#and committing the same errors again and again

[ronandhermy]

I go. It's safe like an ambulance is safe. You being inside means you're already hurt. A Poem is a Place by Isabelle Correa

[jdtrashman]

Looking back, it's insane how spoiled we were by J. K. Rowling's unmasking.

The signs WERE all there from the beginning, from interviews to her personal life to the work itself. So when the mask finally came off for good, our eyes were shot open to all the red flags.

And a lot of folks keep expecting that same revelation every single time another beloved artist turns out to be a bastard. But here's the thing; Rowling is an outlier. Most predators are nowhere near as unsubtle. And everyone telling you all these "solutions" to make sure you don't get hurt again are in willful denial of this

"Don't trust charming people", "don't trust people who declare themselves allies of this or that cause", "charisma is a red flag". All of that may be true, but lemme tell ya - it won't save you.

Because here's the uncomfortable truth: there were zero signs. I followed Gaiman for years, both with his work and here on tumblr. Never noticed a single red flag - and looking back, I can't think of a single sign. And the same can be said for all of you.

It is possible to commit no errors and still lose.

[imaginedisish]

My Girl (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Hey guys!! So sorry this took so long. Here is the secret relationship/breeding kink fic. I honestly really like this one...and I hope you guys do too. Was listening to "Juna" by Clairo while writing it, but went with "My Girl" for the title. ENJOY!

Summary: You and Logan have been in a secret relationship for months, but everything comes to a head when a new mutant visits the Institute, and won't leave you alone...Logan shows him, and you, who your man is.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!! SMUT!!! Thigh riding, Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), breeding kink, praise kink, possessive!Logan, jealous!Logan, unspecified/implied!Age Gap, established relationship, creepy!OC who hits on reader and doesn't lay off, minor violence, afab!/fem!reader, fluff/feelings, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it?

Word Count: 5,313 this is why it took so long also, smut right under the cut...

You remember the first time he fucked you, vividly. 

It was late at night, after a mission. You almost died in his arms. And that was what broke that thing inside him, the burden of time that he carries, that deep-seated pain that made it justifiable to stay away from you. He had held back for so long—had done his all to resist falling for you. He was screwed from the beginning, and he knew that. But he had become so terrified at the thought of losing you that he hadn’t realized it could happen all the same if he stayed away—if he forced himself to remain a friend. 

So, when he fucked you that first time, that first night, he fucked you like it’d be the last—the only time. 

“Goddammit, so fucking perfect,” he mumbled, his lips bruising yours, shoving himself deep inside—as deep as you could take him. “Needed you this whole time. Can’t live without you.”

“Logan,” you whined, his hips snapping against yours. “D-don’t stop, please.” “Never gonna stop, pretty girl,” he promised. “Can’t go back. Can’t be anywhere but here.”

For months now, you’ve been together—but nobody knows. There’s no doubt about commitment—nothing casual about the relationship in the slightest. You start and end every day in Logan’s bed. You’ve talked about running off together, getting married, and settling down. For the first time in his long life, Logan sees a future where he’s happy—genuinely happy. 

The sun peaks through the curtains. You curl yourself into Logan’s chest. His arms are wrapped around your back, holding you tight against him, even in his sleep. You listen to his breathing as the fall breeze creeps through the open window. Everything is calm and quiet in the morning, when everyone is still tucked away in their bedrooms, sound asleep. 

Logan groans, tugging you closer to him, nuzzling his face into your neck. “Go back to sleep.” His voice is heavy, laden with exhaustion. “Too early.” He kisses the spot just under your ear, and you moan involuntarily, feeling extra sensitive in the haze of the morning. He smiles softly against your neck, and kisses you again, his teeth grazing your skin. You moan louder this time, intertwining your legs with Logan’s. “Love those pretty little noises you make.”

“Feels good,” you murmur, his thigh slotting between your legs, pressing against your core. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, rocking your hips back and forth. “Need you, Lo,” you beg. 

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Logan husks, his palms warm against your bare skin as he slips underneath your shirt��which is really his. 

He’s slow in the morning, pressing soft kisses on your bare shoulders, letting his touch linger longer than normal. He likes the peace of it all—waking up to each other, smelling you next to him, feeling the other side of his bed warm and full of you. When he fucks you, early like this, he takes his time. 

His fingertips trace the curves of your stomach, falling into your dips, gripping your flesh. Logan breathes you in, his lips softly melting into yours. “Still too early?” You mumble between soft, lazy kisses. 

“Never too early to want you,” Logan husks, dragging his thigh against your core again. “Always need you.” You can feel his erection through his boxers. “Gonna take care of my girl. Gonna make you—”

There’s a knock at the door. “Logan?” It’s Scott’s voice on the other side. He knocks again. “Logan, you in there?”

Logan tries to ignore him, his fingertips dragging down your sides, bumping into the hem of your panties as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses down the hollow of your throat. You let out a breathy moan as Logan bites down on your pulse point. He smiles under your jaw at the soft sound, content that you can’t hold back. 

“Logan,” you whisper, running your hands up his arms, to his shoulders, your fingertips finding the nape of his neck. “He’s not gonna stop.”

Sure enough, Scott knocks again. “Logan, I know you’re in there,” he calls, banging on the door now. “Wake up. We have some tech guy on his way.” 

Logan groans into your neck. “Why do you need me, Summers?” Logan licks your collarbone teasingly, hiking your t-shirt farther up your body. 

“He’s…a mutant,” Scott explains. “He can speak with machines, computers, code—you name it, he can do it. He’s gonna fix some stuff around the mansion. Charles asked me to make sure you’re awake just in case…” Scott trails off.

Logan finishes Scott’s sentence. “In case everything goes to shit?” 

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Scott huffs, likely shaking his head on the other side of the door. “But yes. In case things don’t go as planned. I’m also looking for—"

But Logan cuts Scott off, saying your name for him. 

“Yeah, I can’t find her. Do you know where she might—”

“On a run,” Logan chimes in, and you suppress your laughter by pressing your face into his chest. “She’ll be back soon.” Logan’s arms wrap around your back, holding you against him. 

“Alright,” Scott says, shuffling, slowly stepping away from the door. “If you see her, let her know what’s going on, okay?”

“Trust me bub,” Logan husks, his fingers digging into your flesh, tickling you. “I’ll make sure she knows.” 

Scott mumbles something unintelligible as he walks down the hallway, his footsteps echoing as he disappears down the stairs. 

Logan’s lips are attached to your neck again, sucking playfully. “Where were we?” He teases, his nails grazing down your back. His palms settle on your ass, squeezing your flesh tightly in his hands. 

You moan, your chest flush with his. “Logan,” you whine. “We need to get up,” you insist, your hands pushing against Logan’s broad shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscular biceps. “Can’t stay in bed anymore.”

Logan grunts, his thigh still nudged between your legs, rocking into your core. You want him, and it’s tempting to let him take you right here, right now. But you can’t. And he knows it. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips and pulls you tightly into his chest. “Later,” he promises, his lips finding the shell of your ear. You smile at the thought. There was always a later with Logan.

You snuck out of Logan’s room, unnoticed, as always. It was still early—too early for the ruckus of a morning at the mansion to begin. You got ready for the day and slipped downstairs. You’re still shocked at just how oblivious the rest of the team is. Truly, no one knows about you and Logan. 

You’re in the kitchen now, nursing a cup of coffee, waiting for the day to start. Familiar, heavy footsteps approach, and you smile before you can even see his face. 

“Hi pretty girl,” Logan coos, standing behind you and wrapping his arms around your front. You lean into him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the strength of his heartbeat. He presses a chaste kiss to the crown of your head and walks over to the coffee pot. 

Scott enters the kitchen as Logan takes his first sip of coffee—one second earlier and he would have seen Logan holding you. “The guy is here,” Scott announces from the doorway. He looks at you and smiles. “Oh! Hey! How was your run?” He asks cheerfully. 

You almost spit out your coffee, remembering what you were actually doing this morning. “Great!” You say, doing your all to hold back your laughter. “Surprisingly relaxing.” Logan snorts and plays it off like he’s sniffling.

Scott smiles, none the wiser, and nods, cocking his head towards the hallway just outside the kitchen. “Come meet the tech guy!” He backs out of the doorway and into the hallway. Logan settles his coffee cup—which reads #1 Professor—next to yours on the counter and gives your waist a quick squeeze as you hop out of the chair. You walk shoulder to shoulder into the foyer. All the signs of your relationship are there—out in the open—and yet, still, no one seems to catch them.

You step into the foyer, and there’s Scott and the Professor by the front door, chatting with a younger man—who’s about your age. The man’s eyes find yours, and he smiles softly. “Hi there!” He calls, waving. “I’m Mark!” He strides away from Scott and the Professor and towards you. “But you can call me Techno.” He smirks and winks, extending his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

Logan grabs his hand instead, gripping it tightly, catching Mark off guard. “Wolverine,” Logan growls. “And you can’t call me Logan,” he adds, gritting his teeth. “So, you turn on computers, bub?” 

Mark grimaces, wrenching his hand from Logan’s grasp. “A little more than that,” he asserts, closing his eyes and bawling his fists. You look up as the lights flicker, and televisions turn on and off. Your cell phone rings in your pocket, and you pull it out. The screen reads: Incoming Call from Mark.

Your lips part. “How did you…” You trail off. 

Mark shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “My powers essentially let me communicate with electricity and tech,” he explains. You can practically hear Logan seething beside you. 

“A technopath,” Charles offers as he rolls over to join the three of you with Scott in tow. 

“Exactly,” Mark says, nodding to Charles. “Makes it easy to put my number into pretty girls’ phones.” Mark winks at you, and you press your lips into a straight line in response. 

You shake your head. “I’m not inter—”

You’re cut off by the sound of Logan’s claws unsheathing. “These,” Logan pauses, lifting his claws to Mark. “Make it real easy to hurt creeps who put their numbers into girls’ phones without asking first, bub.” 

Mark rolls his eyes, and the corners of your lips twitch up. You try to force down your smile, try to slow the rhythm of your heart. You secretly liked when Logan got possessive over you. He was inherently protective, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on just a little. 

“Let’s stay on course,” Charles reprimands, guiding Mark to the hallway to the left with a wave of his hand. “Let me show you some of the machines I’d like you to work on.”

“It would be my pleasure, Professor Xavier,” Mark says harshly, his eyes locked on Logan as he backs away to follow Charles and Scott.

Logan lowers all but his center claw, giving Mark the middle finger as he turns around. “Don’t mind Logan,” Scott says as they disappear into a room, the door shutting behind them.

“Logan,” you whisper, now that everyone is gone. “Don’t worry,” you assure, bringing a hand to his shoulder. 

He turns to look at you. “He’s a fucking creep.”

“It’s going to be fine.”

 It is not going well, or fine.

Mark is something of a nuisance. He’s only been here for an hour, but he has already created multiple excuses to talk to you, to pull you away from whatever task is at hand. 

You’re in the middle of teaching an English class, discussing Mrs. Dalloway with a group of older students. “So, what are we to make of Clarissa and Sally’s relationship?” You ask the students, to no avail. 

This was your hardest class of the day—especially given the fact that you’re not even a decade older than most of the students. You had joined the X-Men in your early 20s, your powers having shown themselves a bit later than in most mutants, and only a few years have passed since then. Convincing the students who have been here their whole lives that you deserve to teach has been nothing short of a challenge. 

So, when Mark butts his head in on your class, annoyance burns through your body. You take a deep breath and swallow down your frustration. 

“Hey!” He chimes, his head poking through the open classroom door. “Mind if I take a look at your computer really quick?”

The class perks up, more focused on you than they were just seconds ago. You fake a smile, nodding and pushing yourself off the front of your desk so that he has space to access the computer. 

He slips behind the desk and smiles widely. “You didn’t have to move,” he remarks. “Would’ve been nice to have you close.”

You want to gag. You turn away from the students, whispering so they can’t hear. “Listen,” you chide, narrowing your eyes. “I am not interested, so could you please—”

“What are you doing in here, asshole?” Logan’s voice echoes against the walls of the classroom. For the first time all year, the class is paying incredibly close attention. “The Professor told you to check the computers in the lab down the hall.” Logan fully enters the room, striding over to Mark, his hands bawled into fists at his sides. “Beat it, bub.”

“Whatever,” Mark mutters, his head down as he exits the classroom. The bell rings, and the class stands, grabbing their things and filing out the door. 

You groan. “Please read the next twenty pages for tomorrow!” You shout over the hubbub and shuffling of students. “I know it’s a challenging novel, but I think you guys can…” The students are gone before you can finish your sentence. “Handle it.” 

Logan smiles sympathetically, closing the distance between you and him. His presence is comforting, warm, everything you’ve ever needed. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. “Sorry,” he apologizes, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Didn’t mean to make your class harder than it is already.”

You take a deep breath, your annoyance fading away. “You helped,” you whisper. “Mark is the one who ruined things,” you insist. “He won’t leave me alone.”

Logan chuckles. “You don’t like him?” He teases. “Don’t like a guy your own age flirting with you?” He’s egging you on, trying to joke, but you can tell part of him is a bit serious. 

You shake your head. “Only like you.” You press your lips to the hollow of his throat and Logan grunts. 

He reluctantly pulls away, the palms of his hands dragging down your arms, his fingers intertwining with yours. “Gotta get to my class,” he husks, his fingers slipping, tugging longingly as he steps to the door. “Meet me after?” He asks, but he already knows the answer. You’ll be outside his classroom door before the bell rings, waiting for him.

You nod, and he smiles, his hands gripping the doorframe like some invisible magnet is pulling him away, and he’d give anything to spend another second with you. He slips down the hallway, and into his classroom. 

You spend the next thirty minutes or so grading papers, waiting for the period to end so that you can walk across the hall to Logan’s class. Another few minutes pass, and you start to collect your things, readying yourself to meet Logan. Your heart thumps in your chest at the thought, even after all the months you’ve spent together. 

You grab your bag and head to the door, closing it behind you and locking up. You cross the hall and stand outside Logan’s door. He’s teaching a younger group of kids—ten to eleven-year-olds. You would trade places with him in a heartbeat if you could. The younger students loved you. There was no question of respect, no doubt of your power. But Logan was given the class as a challenge—Charles wanted to test his patience. 

And, honestly, seeing him with the children did something to you. You loved watching the way he doted on them, carefully explaining material in a way they’d understand. He was an excellent teacher, and one day, you’re sure, he’d make an even better father. You find yourself falling into fantasy: Logan, late at night, a baby—your baby—on his chest. You can see it now—him changing a diaper, teaching the child to walk. Your heart squeezes in your chest, your eyes falling closed as you daydream about the future—your future together. 

You’re so distracted that you don’t hear Mark walk up to you—don’t feel his hand grab your shoulder.

You yelp and jump. “Oh my god,” you mumble, turning around and coming face to face with him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand lingering for far too long on your shoulder. He finally peels away, his arms falling to his sides. He leans against the wall, trying to appear casual and cool. “What are you doing tonight?”

The bell rings before you can think of a polite way to shoo Mark away, and the students exit Logan’s classroom, happily shouting greetings in your direction. You stood outside Logan’s door every day, and the students were always excited to see you.

A few of them run up to hug you, complaining about Logan’s gruffness. When they hear Logan’s footsteps approaching the door, they bolt down the hallway, their laughter booming against the walls. 

Logan steps out into the hall, and he groans audibly when he sees Mark next to you. But Mark ignores Logan, his eyes trained on yours. “Got plans?” He asks again. 

You roll your eyes. “Dude, I’m not interested!” You groan, too irritated to pretend to be nice. Mark smirks and parts his lips, ready to persist like the creep he is.

Logan steps in front of you, his claws already out. “Listen, bub,” he growls, his claws just inches from Mark’s chest. “If you don’t fuck off and stop harassing my girl, we’re gonna have a problem.”

Mark scoffs. “My girl? What are you, her father? You can’t possibly be dating her.”

You can see the anger in Logan’s eyes, the honest rage. “Lo,” you soothe. “Don’t do it.” But you know it’s too late. His decision is already made.

Logan shoves Mark against the wall, his claws pressed against his throat. “I’m her fucking boyfriend, bub,” he grunts as Mark squirms helplessly under his hold. 

“Oh, her boyfriend?” He teases, despite the fear in his eyes. “Aren’t you too old to be a boyfriend?”

Logan shoves him harder into the wall, and Mark yelps pathetically, like a small dog. “More serious than that,” Logan asserts. “Guessing you wouldn’t know anything about that though, would you?” 

“Alright, break it up!” Scott’s voice echoes from down the hall. He runs over, Jean and the Professor by his side. Rogue and Gambit follow close behind. But Logan doesn’t budge, the tips of his claws almost digging hard enough to draw blood. 

You bring your hand to Logan’s shoulder. “He isn’t gonna hurt me,” you whisper to Logan. “I could handle him easily if he tried.” You slide your hand to the nape of his neck, trying to soothe him, to relax him. “Nothing’s going to happen, okay?” 

Logan retracts his claws and lets go of Mark, who stutters away from Logan and into the center of the hallway. “I’m getting the fuck out of here!” Mark shouts, but Logan doesn’t react. He simply intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“You okay?” He asks, his thumb brushing circles into the side of your hand. 

You arch a brow. “Are you okay?” You smile and lean into him. 

“So…” Scott trails off, interrupting. “You two are…”

“Together.” You finish his sentence, your eyes still on Logan’s. You can feel the tension in his shoulders stretch down to his hand. He’s rigid, still on edge. You know he needs to get out of here, needs to be alone with you. 

“How long has this been going on?” Scott asks, genuinely caught off guard. “Did anyone know about this?” 

You turn to the team to see heads shaking side to side—save for the Professor. “I did, of course,” Charles confesses. “But I felt it was best left a secret until the two lovebirds decided otherwise.”

Rogue shakes her head, the corners of her mouth twitching up. “I can’t believe you never told me!” 

“Told you what?” Jubilee calls from down the hall, approaching the group. She blows a bubble as she stands next to Rogue, her eyes trailing down to where your and Logan’s hands connect. Her eyes widen and her bubble bursts. “No way!” She cheers, jumping up and down. 

“Settle down,” Charles laughs, extending his hand down the hall to where Mark was just moments ago. “Scott, make sure our technopath friend makes it out the door alive.” Scott nods and heads down the hall. Charles turns to you and Logan. “As for the two of you,” he pauses, winking. “We’ll discuss more at a later point.”

You smile in understanding, and Logan squeezes your hand—another sign it’s time to go. He’s still worked up about Mark; he needs to get this out of his system, needs to relieve all the built-up tension. 

“Got something I need to take care of,” Logan says to the group, tugging you down the hallway.  

He strides through the mansion, practically yanking your arm out of your socket. “Logan,” you whisper, trying to catch his attention. You’ve never seen him like this—rage and jealousy like fire in his eyes, dripping from his pores. He leads you up the stairs and towards his bedroom, and it suddenly dawns on you what exactly he needs to take care of. 

Logan pushes the door open and slams it closed the second you’re inside. His hands are immediately on you, grabbing at the pillowy flesh of your ass, pinning you to the door. His lips find yours—hungry and rough, the wiry hairs of his beard scratching your face. He tastes you, his tongue seeking more of you as it swipes across your lower lip. You open your mouth, inviting him in, your tongue tangling with his.

Logan hoists you up without breaking the kiss, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You can feel his erection straining inside his jeans, pressing against your heat. He grinds into you as one hand slips under your top and drags up your back, holding you tightly against him. 

“Need you,” he mumbles against your lips. “Always fucking need you.” He tears you away from the door and towards the bed. He throws you onto the mattress and climbs over you, slowly, like an animal stalking its prey. “Tell me you need me, pretty girl.”

“N-need you,” you stutter as he settles on top of you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. 

“I’m not too old for you?” Logan teases, one of his hands loosening its grasp on your arm and trailing down your body, settling on the hem of your shirt. “You don’t wanna be with anyone else?” He hikes up your top, pushing it above your breasts. 

You can feel the heat pooling between your legs. “No,” you whine, arching your back as his fingertips play with the bottom of your bra. “Only wanna be with you,” you breathe as Logan slowly, teasingly pulls your bra up. “Please,” you beg, spreading your legs wider. “Want you to fuck me.” 

Logan smirks, finally tugging your bra and top over your head and casting them to the floor. “Gonna take care of you, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, palming your breasts with his free hand, rolling your nipples under his thumb. 

“Fuck,” you moan as he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

Logan hums, his fingertips trailing across the valley of your breasts, doing the same on the other side. Logan pinches harder, and you moan louder this time. “That’s it,” he coos, his lips finding your pulse point, sucking roughly. “Don’t be quiet, darlin’,” he demands. You whisper his name, your voice whiny and needy. “Show me how much you need me. Keep making those pretty little noises, baby.”

“Feels good,” you whimper as his hand traces down your stomach, to your hips, gathering the fabric of your skirt in his fist and yanking it up to your waist.

He chuckles darkly. “You wore this just for me?” He asks, his thumb hooking inside the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs. “Wanted to make it easier for me to fuck you?”

“Fuck, yes, just for you,” you pant, watching as Logan lifts himself off you, tugging his t-shirt up and over his head. He dexterously unclasps his belt buckle and throws the leather to the floor. He balances on his forearm as he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, pushing them down his thighs along with his boxers. “I’m all yours, Lo,” you promise as he presses his forehead to yours.

Logan’s hand glides down your side, slipping between your legs and finding your folds. You moan as his fingertips prod at your entrance, spreading your slick. “Fuck, all this is for me?” He pinches your clit before swiping through your folds again. “You’re soaked already, princess.” His fingertips brush your clit, tracing achingly slow circles into the bud. 

You rock your hips against Logan’s touch, searching for more friction. “Logan, need you,” you whine, squirming underneath him. “I’m yours.”

“All mine?” He whispers, his touch suddenly disappearing. You groan at the loss of contact. “Say it again, pretty girl,” he demands, guiding his cock to your folds. 

“All yours,” you answer, trying to move your hips lower to feel just an inch of him. “Please just—”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he slams into you, down to the hilt with one thrust. He throbs against your walls as he works you open, his hips still, his cock splitting you in two. “Fuck,” Logan grunts. “So fucking tight. Perfect little pussy. Wanna stay right here forever. Maybe I won’t even fuck you. Maybe I’ll just make you sit on my cock.”

But you need him to move, need him to take you. “Logan, f-fuck me,” you choke, trying to move your hips. His hand grips your waist, stopping you from sliding up his length. “Please, move,” you plead. 

“So impatient,” he chides, kissing you bruisingly, biting your lips. He finally pulls out and slams back in, bottoming out again. His hand slides down your waist and slips between your legs. “You gonna be a good girl and let me fuck you the way I want?” 

His hand is just above your clit, inches away from where you need him most, waiting for your answer. You nod emphatically. “Yes,” you say with pleading eyes. “Anything. You can do anything just please—oh fuck!” Logan pinches your clit and starts his machinations, swirling around the bud. He pulls out and pumps back in, setting a ruthless pace. 

His hips snap against yours, taking all of you with reckless abandon. His lips swallow your moans, consuming you, drinking you in. Of all the times he’s fucked you, it’s never been quite like this. There’s a hunger in Logan’s eyes that you’ve never seen before, an undying need you’re not sure can be satisfied. Something feels different about this time—more intense, fervent, and feverish. 

Logan thrusts in and out of you, bottoming out with every pump, still stretching you out. His fingertips stroke your clit roughly, your walls already fluttering around him. He curses under his breath, his chest heaving against yours. 

“Look at you,” he groans, fucking into you. “So beautiful like this. Always so beautiful.” You can feel his cock twitching inside you. “Wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

“I-I already am,” you stammer, his fingers drawing tight, rapid circles into your clit, pushing you closer to the edge. “Always gonna be yours.”

“Want more than that,” Logan grunts, his hips rocking, his pace quickening. He’s so deep inside you—hitting exactly where you need him most with every thrust. 

“Whatever you want,” you pant, your chest pressing flush to his. “It’s yours. I’m yours.”

“Yeah?” He growls at the shell of your ear. “You gonna let me fill you up? Gonna let me stuff you full of me?”

“Yes, please,” you cry out as he pumps in and out, shoving himself as deep inside as he can possibly fit. You feel so full, so complete. Nothing compares to having Logan this close, to having him be so connected to you. You’re already coming undone underneath him, falling apart. “Want you to stay inside.” And then the words fall from your lips without a second thought. But you mean it, and you want it more than anything…

“Wanna have your baby, Lo.”

Logan groans at your words, his cock throbbing with need. “Fuck, don’t tease me like that, sweetheart.” 

“N-not teasing,” you stammer. “I mean it.”

“Shit,” Logan growls, his skin slapping against yours, your words spurring him on. He’s letting himself go, letting himself plunge deep inside you, fast and hard. “Such a good girl,” he praises, his length dragging against your walls, pushing deeper still. “You gonna let me fuck a baby into you?”

“Yes!” You cry out, the fire burning in your belly spreading up to your spine, coursing through your veins. Your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tightly.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you, his hips stuttering. “Want you forever.”

You throw your head back as his fingers swirl around your clit. “You have me Lo, always gonna have me.” Your walls clench down around him, and the tension snaps. Electricity shoots up your spine as your orgasm crashes into you. It’s intense—more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. Pleasure washes over you in waves, heat blooming across your chest and up your neck.

Logan is right behind you, whispering a string of praises as he finishes inside you. “Did so fucking good for me. Always so perfect, beautiful.” His thrusts slow until he’s still inside you, but he doesn’t pull out. “Don’t wanna move, princess,” he husks, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“You don’t have to,” you say, your voice hoarse. Logan rolls you onto your side, hoisting your leg up and over his hip, keeping himself deep inside your cunt. You close your eyes, your heartbeat finally steadying, your chest still heaving in time with Logan’s. 

The silence is comfortable, calming. You listen to Logan’s breathing as he runs his hands up and down your back. “You okay?” He asks, pressing a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. 

You hum. “I’m perfect,” you mumble, burying your face into his chest. “Do you really…” You trail off, suddenly nervous to ask the only question on your mind, despite everything that just happened. 

“Yes,” Logan answers immediately. “I meant it. Wanna be a family. Wanna be with you forever.”

You melt into him, wrapping your arms around his back. You can feel his cock growing hard inside you as you move to get more comfortable. “I want that too, Lo,” you sigh. “More than anything.” You smile against him, thinking about your future, thinking about how all this started because some asshole wouldn’t leave you alone. You can’t help but giggle at the thought.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks. You can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You look up at him. “You’re crazy, you know that?” You joke, your smile widening. “You could’ve hurt that guy.”

Logan’s smile widens too. “Just crazy about you,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you, his cock still deep inside you. “Should’ve kicked his ass.” You bite your lip, waiting for his next move. “You’re my girl,” he groans, sliding out of you slightly. 

“Yours,” you breathe as he thrusts back in. “All yours.”

tags: @cosmiccandydreamer @alsoprettyinpink @alastorssimp @1800-fight-me @iamburdened @chaoticweirdogeek @loganobsessed @seasonofthenerd @witch-lemon @the-occasional-artist1125 @https-murdock @afw5 @wolviesgirl @the-ruler-of-death @xtwistedchaosx @wittyjasontodd @galacticglitterglue @silversprings-mp3 @zxaera @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @prettyseaveins @ilysmdovie12 @evasmlp @derbygracie @rammakela @honeyfewr @ricefordays-blog1 @manipulatour

[colorfulrook]

I have an idea:

Basically, it would be Reader and Jinwoo who have known each other for a long time. They're best friends, and Reader was always super affectionate with him when he was an E-rank. She treated his wounds, cooked him food, etc., and flirted with him directly, but Jinwoo ignored her advances every time (for him, it was just affection between friends), but Reader always continued even though it wasn't reciprocal.

When he became an S-rank, he got closer to the other hunters, especially Cha Hae In, and Hae In did the same thing Reader did for him (taking care of him), except that he reacted to her advances. Reader, seeing this, understood that she had to let it go and was happy for him despite the heartbreak. Everything she did for him, she did with the other hunters in the guild (brought back cookies, put bandages on Baek, while complimenting him on his muscles, etc.). Jinwoo seeing Reader being affectionate with everyone except him gives him a pang in his heart realizing that he hates it when Reader is with people other than him and begins to regret all the times when he didn't reciprocate and ignore her advances. One day when Reader is injured he goes to heal her and tries to do what Reader did for him hoping to be able to get closer to her again

Thank you so much for trusting me with your idea! I hope you will enjoy reading it and tell me if you liked it! I value quite much every opinion you throw ahaha, love you all - Rook

Ps: I proofread it a bit quickly so eventual grammar errors will be dealt it later!

Where the heart awaits [S.JW x F!Reader]

Pairings: Sung Jinwoo x F!Reader Word count: 1.5K Theme: Fluff, angst (Injury ahead!)

Being an A-Rank healer was tough, but it had its perks. You met all kinds of people—arrogant hotshots, quiet tanks, mages who thought they were gods, hell even S ranks—but none of them managed to leave you an impression like Jinwoo. Gentle, caring Jinwoo who, no matter the hardships of being an E-Rank, never backed down on a job.

You met him during one of your first dungeon after you awakening, despite having already some offers for all kinds of guilds, you politely declined, saying that you would like to lend a hand to the guildless people before committing to one.

That’s how you ended up in a cramped, damp D-Rank dungeon with a group of nervous, under-equipped hunters… and him.

He hadn’t said much at first—kept his head down, focused. You watched as he silently took more hits than he should have, trying to protect the others even though he was clearly exhausted. By the end, he was bloodied and limping, but smiling when he handed the core to a trembling C-rank who looked like he might burst into tears. You had walked up to him, healing magic already warm in your palms, and asked with piqued interest.

“Do you always try to be a martyr, or was today special?”

He blinked at you. Then he smiled. “Habit, I guess.” Feeling refreshed as you healed him, warm magic tickled his skin.

That was the start of your friendship.

From then on, things moved fast. Days turned into month that eventually turned into one year.

You started teaming up more often. Dungeons with Jinwoo became your favorite—how you waited eagerly every time there was a new dungeon, a smile forming everytime you read Jinwoo's name on the list. You could already feel your heart warming.

You began to see him after and before the raids, sometimes even cooking for him and his sister after a particularly gruesome outing. He walked you home after late-night cleanups. You learned how he liked his coffee, how he couldn’t handle spicy food, and that he always, always made sure everyone else was safe before thinking about himself.

You started to look forward to the way his eyes would light up when you brought snacks. To the little, tired smiles he’d give you at the end of a run. You flirted with him—openly, shamelessly—sometimes just to see him flustered. But he never responded to it. At first, you told yourself it was just because he was shy.

But you were wrong, he wasn't shy, he just thought you were very friendly.

It hit you one night when the two of you went out to eat in one of those small restaurant full of people and laughs. You'd teased him again—something flirty, casual, something about how you liked guys who were quietly heroic and kind to their teammates. Jinwoo had just laughed. Not nervous. Not awkward. Just… amused.

The thought of you referring to him went completely over his head.

"Don't worry (Y/n), you are an amazing person and hunter, I'm sure you will find someone you love soon enough!"

And that’s when it sunk in. You could feel your smile dropping a bit before regaining your composure.

To him, your kindness was just that—kindness. The way you patched him up, brought him home-cooked meals, dragged him out for breaks, gifted him silly little trinkets to cheer him up—he’d seen all of it as the affection of a good friend. And maybe, in his mind, he didn’t deserve more than that anyway.

So you smiled and kept going, because even if your heart ached sometimes, his presence was worth it. Being by his side was better than not being there at all.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

When Jinwoo came back from his double dungeon, you felt everything change, as if someone pulled a rug from under your feet and disrupted your carefully built balance.

He was stronger. Colder. More focused. You watched as he built his new life—his new guild—and got closer with hunters you barely knew. He spent more time with Cha Haein, and even though she didn’t speak much, she didn’t need to. The way she looked at him said enough. And worse, the way he looked back at her…

You decided to let him go.

You still talked frequently but you decided that it was time to do something with yourself, Jinwoo was happy with Haein, it was time to reach your happiness as well.

You decided to join Baek Yoonho's guild, feeling ready to lend your powers to a bigger group of people—it was time for a "fresh start" as you called it.

You loved it there, truly, you began to grow fond of every member of your usual dungeon party. Thus you decided to spread your affection to them.

You began to take extra care while healing everyone, especially Guildmaster Baek, handed cookies to the office staff, even embracing one of the rookies— "Gukkie" you called him with the affection of a big sister—in a warm hug for nailing one of the raids in a dungeon.

You didn’t mean it as payback. It was just you being you.

But Jinwoo slowly began to notice it.

And for the first time in a long time, he was the one watching you from the sidelines.

Jinwoo didn’t realize when it started—the way his eyes always followed you, shadows always at the ready to protect you.

Maybe it was the moment you tucked a blanket around Baek Yoonho’s shoulders after a gruesome raid and told him to get some rest, your voice warm with that same gentle tone you used to use just for Jinwoo.

"Master Baek, I know you are toning your body everyday but you must take care and rest after a dungeon!" you'd say pouting.

Or when you ruffled that one hunter's hair after he brought you a smoothie and said, “You’re getting sweeter by the day,” and Jinwoo had to stop himself from yanking your hand away, starved of your usual caring touch.

It didn’t hit him all at once. It crept up slowly, a quiet cold wave that nipped at his ankles. A sharp tug in his chest every time you smiled at someone else. And a heavy, sinking feeling when he realized that you haven't smiled like that at him for weeks.

You were still kind and affectionate during the now rare times you saw each others. But you didn’t linger anymore. You didn’t tease. No more late-night texts, no more lingering touches. You didn’t call him “handsome” with a laugh or sneak his favorite candy into his coat pocket before a raid.

And it was his fault.

Thinking back to before he went in that double dungeon left him with a bitter taste on his tongue.

He’d thought it was just how you were. That your softness belonged to everyone. He hadn’t realized—until it wasn’t his anymore—how much of it you had given only to him.

Now it was too late. Or maybe it wasn’t. He didn’t know.

Not until the day of an abnormal red gate dungeon.

When Jinwoo felt the pulse of the gate from across the city so stronge that even Igris twitched.

And then your name came through the emergency report from the White Tiger Guild.

A red gate. An unexpected ambush. An A-Rank healer, critically injured. You.

Jinwoo didn’t remember giving the order to teleport. He just moved. Shadows exploded from the ground like a tidal wave, launching him towards your position.

The first thing he noticed was how small and frail you seemed in Baek Yoonho's arms, whom looked at him with wide eyes.

"We closed the dungeon but we need to help her fast if we want her to live"

You were unconscious, blood seeping from your uniform, your breathing was shallow, and your mana flickered like a dying candle. Someone had tried to patch you up, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t you.

Jinwoo’s hands trembled as he touched your cheek. For a moment, all he could do was stare.

You were always the one healing. Always smiling through exhaustion, patching wounds, giving warmth without asking for anything back. Now you lay still, quiet and cold.

Something cracked deep inside him.

“Why didn’t I see it?” he whispered, almost angrily. “Why did I let you go?”

Beru stood silently nearby, his gaze lowered. Even his shadows stayed quiet, watching their king kneel beside the one person he could never bring himself to face until it was too late.

Jinwoo’s heart raced as his hands trembled, pouring every ounce of mana into you with a desperate kind of reverence, trying to heal the wound he had failed to stop. His shadows clung to you like a protective cocoon, dimly glowing with the magic he so freely gave, trying to mend what had been broken both in your body and in his soul.

"Please," he whispered again, his voice trembling with a vulnerability he had never shown before. "I can’t lose you. Not like this."

His forehead touched yours, and for a fleeting moment, the world faded into the background. The overwhelming pulse of his heart, the suffocating grief, the quiet dread of losing you—all of it seemed to blur as he focused entirely on you.

His breath came out in ragged gasps as he choked on the words he had kept buried for far too long.

“Wake up…” His voice cracked, the words barely audible. “Please. I still haven’t said it. I haven’t told you…”

But then he felt it—a soft pressure on his hand.

“Jinwoo…” Your voice was weak, your hand reaching up to gently touch his face. “I’m here…”

He leaned down, cheek pressed against yours as relief washed over him like a tidal wave. The fear, the doubt, the hopelessness that had gripped him melted away.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured softly, his hands brushing away the sweat on your forehead. “I'm sorry you had to wait for so long”

You smiled weakly as you felt the warmt of his words settle in your chest, maybe there was still hope after all.

[sevikaslatinawife]

Soft Sevika Headcannons

Saw someone post they wanted more fluff for Sevika. Here’s my addition because I also believe we need more Sevika fluff.

NOTE: It has been brought to my attention that I added Sevika as “blushing”, and that it would not be visible on her skin tone. I will do better on this next time when writing.

ᡣ𐭩 — Forehead kisses.

Won’t ever admit to it but whenever you two are cuddling and you kiss her forehead, she melts. She just grunts and buries her face in your chest or anywhere where you won’t notice her blush.

You notice because even her ears get pink-tinted, but you never say anything. You just kiss the top of her head instead, liking the smell of her hair. This just receives another grunt for her and – maybe you were dreaming – feeling her lips quirk into a soft smile against your skin.

ᡣ𐭩 — Cuddling/Hugging.

She isn’t used to being held, not even something she grew up with, so the first time you hugged her, she felt light. She hugged you back and leaned her chin on your head while she held you. That is, after the initial shock of what was happening wore off.

She felt like she was vibrating and you pointed it out.

“You’re shaking,” you had said in a soft, concerned voice. She simple said, “I'm cold,” which you both knew was a lie. So you just smiled and hugged her tighter.

Whenever you two found yourselves with enough space, mostly a couch – specifically in Silco’s office – she would hug you close and bury her face in your hair or the crook of your neck.

She just takes calming breaths of your scent at your pulse point. She doesn’t think you’re real or with her, so smelling the heat of your skin and the ways it smells distinct, it calms her down.

ᡣ𐭩 — Having her hair played with.

Sevika was kind of taken aback the first time you touched her hair. Not because she didn’t like it, but with the softness that you did it with.

Now, she would lay on your lap and happily close her eyes while you played with her hair. When she had it longer, you’d take the ponytail off and run your fingers through the strands.

But now, she liked how you would rub the shaved part of her haircut with your fingertips. How you push the strands back to get a glimpse of her face because they couldn’t be tucked behind her ears as easily.

ᡣ𐭩 — Praises/Compliments.

The first time you told her she did a good job, was after she was grumbling about making being scolded by Silco – not an error she commited, but being told not to “Dissapoint him again.”

She looked at you like you were stupid but it made her heart race that you would think that of her. You could see the way her eyes shone, how glassy they looked when you said it.

So you kissed her cheek and told her again. “You did a good job, my love. Don't worry, you were wonderful.” You felt how she leaned into you when you cupped her cheek but only slightly. As if she didn't really believe the words you were telling her, like she was on edge you were just trying to soothe her and not really meaning to praise her. “You did do a good job,” You reassure. “You're my strong, wonderful girl.”

And maybe she melted and leaned her face into your hands while pulling you closer. You made sure to always praise her when you had the chance from then on.

ᡣ𐭩 — Your smell. [Curly Girl Edition.]

If you have curly hair and use products that smell a specific way, she buries her nose in your hair or neck where the smell clings to. Since it’s where your curls would brush against your skin and would leave it smelling the strongest.

Once you even caught her clicking the bottle of cream and sniffing it, frowning because it just wasn't the same. It smelt similar to you, but it smelt better on you, on your skin.

You didn't say anything, though, because you knew she'd never admit it, even after being caught.

Wanted it to be longer but couldn't come up with more :'( Please lmk what you think, if you'd like more and any headcannons you'd want me to add!

[stllmnstr]

sacred monsters: part four

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

part four word count: 15.8k

part four warnings: swearing, more blood and other vampire-y things, dark themes, descriptions of past abuse (non-explicit), even MORE tragic backstories, a little sexiness

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood

note/disclaimer: EVERYONE DOUBTED ME. I DOUBTED MYSELF. BUT DESPITE IT ALLLLLLL HERE IS PART FOUR!!!!!!! Enjoy my friends, and then tell me about it! As always, happy reading ♡

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

When you wake up, it’s with a pounding headache and a deep wave of something that almost tastes like regret. 

Through the jumble of your sleep-addled mind, it takes you a few moments to locate the source of that uneasy feeling. But as soon as you do, it washes over you in a sweeping tide of sensation. 

Images, sounds, tastes. Feelings. 

You’re lying in your bed. Alone. But your mind isn’t convinced of it. 

For long, heavy moments, if you screw your eyes shut tightly enough, you’re somewhere else entirely. 

Notches of your spine pressed against the expanse of a wall. Long fingers, ones  that don’t belong to you, toying with the hem of your shirt. Tracing the skin beneath your ribs. 

Sighs that you swallow. Lips pressed against your own. Teeth. 

Desperate, heady, sordid.

A brief stinging sensation. The faint, metallic taste of blood. 

The breathy pleas that follow. 

All at once, all over again, you’re lost in it. Drowning in it. Consumed by it. 

It’s a ghost of the real thing, a mere shadow in comparison. But you’re aching with it just the same. 

Through the muddle in your mind, you barely remember getting home. 

Footsteps and movement and other mundane details are lost to memories of a much headier nature. 

Lips against yours in the cover of darkness outside your apartment door. Fervent whispers of words that sound like “Bad idea” and “Not tonight.”

But still. He followed you in. Or at least you think he did. There’s far too much room for error in the recesses of your clouded memory.

It feels real, though. The recollection of gentle fingers in your hair. Soothing this time. With the intent to calm, subdue. Creating distance from desperation instead of adding to it. 

The slow press of lips that you wish you had more time to become familiar with. Against your temple this time, the bridge of your nose, the swell of your cheekbone. 

And a final, quiet command. 

“Sleep,” he’d insisted. 

And you hadn’t wanted to, not really. But no matter how many encounters you’ve had with immortality, you’re still woefully confined to the constraints of your humanity. And exhaustion still has clutches you can’t escape. 

Eyelids flickering, unconsciousness sang to you like a siren song until you were unable to resist its lull any longer. 

And there had been no promises between the two of you, but waking up alone was not what you expected. 

It’s undeniable though, even as you sit up, sheets tangling around your hips. You’re still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. They’re wrinkled – a result of fervent ministrations and a long night of sleep disturbed only by strikingly vivid dreams. 

But even though small remnants of his presence remain, your room is empty, save for you. 

Rolling your neck in a slow circle, you wince at the stiffness, the tinge of pain you feel as it crosses above your left shoulder. 

The rest of your body carries a similar heaviness. As you ease your way out of bed, your limbs feel tight, stiff, overworked. 

Still, you force your feet to carry you to the space outside your bedroom. If you’re honest, part of you is hoping that you’ll find him waiting for you there. But as your eyes trace over the expanse of your apartment, your stomach sinks with disappointment. 

Empty. Just like your bedroom. 

It’s not enough to make you panic. Not yet. There are a thousand possible explanations for his absence. Before you start to decide which one is most likely, a knock echoes against your front door. 

And it’s almost embarrassing, the speed at which you cross your living room. 

But you can’t swallow the immediate sense of relief you feel. Coupled with a sudden swoop that reaches all the way to the pit of your stomach. 

Because he’s here. He’s here and it’s real and the surge of butterflies is enough to have you forgetting any potential complications. 

You know he can hear your footsteps, can certainly tell that your heart has just begun to beat unnaturally fast, but you don’t care. Can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. 

You wonder if he feels it too, this magnetic pull. It clutches at your heart with a soft touch and pulls at your mind like nostalgia. As if you’re a girl with a crush, writing the details of your affection in the secrecy of a diary and doodling hearts along the border. 

You pause, hand on the doorknob. With your other hand, you flatten the top of your hair, self-consciously tucking a strand behind your ear. 

It defies logic. After all, any remaining mussing is of his doing. But still, you can’t suppress the desire to have him see you at your best. 

After one last deep breath, you twist the knob. A smile is already tugging at your lips, widening along with the door. 

But when it opens fully, your lips fall flat. It’s not Heeseung that stands on the other side. 

From where he lingers in the doorframe, Jake scratches at the back of his neck rather awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. 

“Jake?” Disappointment colors your voice in obvious strokes. You might feel bad about it if you weren’t so confused. 

“Hey, ___,” he returns. His exhale almost sounds like an apology and it has your stomach swooping again. This time in trepidation. Anxiety. “Can I come in?”

“Is he okay?” It’s probably rude, the way you ignore his question entirely. But suddenly, it’s all you can think of. Why is Jake here? Avoiding your gaze and already sounding regretful. 

“Heeseung’s fine,” Jake assures. Your brow furrows. He’s fine, but he’s not here. You can’t decide if that inspires relief or something far more unpleasant. 

The silence extends for a moment. Jake doesn’t offer any additional explanation. Instead, he requests again, “I have something to ask you, but it would probably be better in private.”

“Right,” you nod, forcing the unease in your gut away. “Would you like to come in?”

Jake smiles, a tight thing, before stepping inside wordlessly. When you shut the door behind him, you keep your back turned for a moment. Inhaling deeply, you try to regain a bit of control over your mounting emotions before turning to face him. 

Jake has already made his way to your couch. Instantly, you're reminded of when another guest of yours did the same. It’s almost enough to send you spiraling again.

Jake, unaware of your inner thoughts, doesn’t let you linger in them for long. Instead he motions to the seat opposite of him. “Come sit.”

You frown, still fraught with nerves. Jake sounds far too serious for this conversation to be anything but unpleasant. Following his request, you slide down into the chair across from him. 

Once you’re seated, he doesn’t waste any time. “If you’re feeling up to it, I’ve got an errand for us today.”

Raising your brow, you wordlessly urge him to elaborate. 

Jake reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small, metal object. It takes a moment for you to recognize it, but once you do, your stomach only sinks further. 

It’s a key. The key. The same one you found last night. Along with someone whose absence is still very much unexplained. 

Jake looks at you, but your gaze is still trained on the object in his hand. “How do you feel about a return trip to New Haven?”

New Haven. You can hardly process his question, much less answer it. 

Because they were together. Heeseung gave the key to Jake. Intentionally passed it along to him. And despite all of the possible explanations, you can only fixate on one. 

He’s avoiding you.

You don't say anything, but Jake reads your expression all the same. Gently, he sets the key on the table between the two of you. Again, he sighs. It’s an apologetic sound, and you hate it.  

A beat passes. Two. He doesn’t beat around the bush. “Something happened between you two, didn’t it?”

You don’t answer. At least not with words. But the way your eyes widen is confirmation enough. 

“I—” You can’t decide if lying would serve you any good here. Ultimately, you decide to stick with the truth. You have too many unanswered questions to play any games. “How did you know?”

Jake smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “After five hundred years, you kind of just… know.” He pauses for a moment, weighing his words. And then he adds, “You don’t have to tell me, of course. But you can. If you want to.”

You can’t think of anything you’d rather do less. It’s illogical and frivolous and entirely human, but you’re embarrassed. The things that passed between the two of you hold weight in your mind. Significance. Importance. 

And now he’s deliberately avoiding you. You can’t help but feel slighted. Played. Used, even. Your voice is small when you ask, “Did he say anything?”

Jake shakes his head. “He’s been pretty silent. Even more so than usual.”

You don’t want to tell him. You don’t. But answers are still lingering far beyond your reach. Jake might not be privy to the details of your affection, but he does know Heeseung like the back of his hand. 

With a deep exhale, you push your pride to the side. 

“We…” you trail off, searching for the right words. Something that won’t feel too invasive, too intimate to share. “We had a… moment. And I thought— well,” you frown, suddenly unaware of your own expectations, “I guess I didn't know what I thought. But I didn’t expect him to avoid me.”

“Ah,” Jake enunciates carefully. “That would explain why he’s been so moody today.” He nods to himself, pausing briefly before adding, “It’s not because of you.”

You just give him a look, obviously disbelieving. 

“I mean, it’s not because of you specifically,” Jake clarifies. “It’s…  a bit difficult to explain. Heeseung is…” he trails off, searching for the right words. “guarded, as I’m sure you can tell. He’s quiet, reserved. He keeps a lot of himself locked up in his own head, and he ruminates on everything. Predicts a million terrible outcomes of every situation and fixates on them until he’s convinced himself that everything will end in flames.” 

“So a raging pessimist, essentially.”

“Maybe,” Jake pauses. “But I think that you have to consider his perspective, too. That’s the thing about immortality. It’s… lonely. Often unbearably so. We all deal with that in our own ways. Sunghoon and his bed are one extreme end of that. Heeseung’s the other.”

You frown. He’s skirting around the edges. Hinting at something without fully saying it and you’re tired of guessing. 

Jake sighs. “I won’t pretend to know everything that’s happened between you, but Heeseung’s not just acting irrationally.”

Your brow furrows. “What does that mean?”

“I…” This time it’s Jake that hesitates. A struggle plays out across his features, as if he can’t decide whether this story is one he should share. Finally, he exhales. “It’s not really my story to tell. But Jungwon had a similar situation, I guess you could say. We had only been changed for around twenty years when he met this girl. It was purely by chance. And it was completely innocent at first. She was an apprentice at the tailor shop in the town we were living in. A human one.”

Your stomach is sinking with every word. The story has barely begun, but you call tell from the tension in Jake’s expression that it doesn’t have a happy ending. 

“He never intended for anything to happen, but he met her once and then he kept going back. It wasn’t intentional, but things spiraled from there. Until he was in far too deep.”

Jake is sparing plenty of details, but even the vague picture he paints is enough to have the unpleasant feeling solidifying in your gut. 

“And there was nothing dramatic, really. No big fight or fall out.” Jake sighs. “But she got older. And he didn’t. For the time they had, they made each other happy. In a lot of ways, they were perfect for each other. Except for in the one way that mattered.”

His immortality. Her humanity. Jake doesn’t say it, but the truth is there all the same. 

“Their love fell apart in a quiet way. Slowly, steadily. Five years had passed, and Jungwon looked the same. She started getting suspicious. He was running out of excuses and had to cut contact just to keep us all safe.”

A part of your heart breaks for him, for the love that he lost, for the circumstances that were always going to dangle just outside of his reach. 

“He couldn’t help it, though. He kept tabs on her. And she did what every human does. She nursed her broken heart, and then she moved on. She fell in love and found a family. Including a daughter.

“But for Jungwon… It broke him. For almost two hundred years, he felt like a shell of himself. And we all watched it happen, but I think it hit Heeseung the hardest. Out of all of us, he was always the romantic, although you’d never guess that now.” 

Jake smiles wryly and the dread in your stomach hardens into a rock. 

“He might not have to hide what he is from you, but that will only buy you so much time.” Jake meets your eye, imploring you to understand. “No matter what happens between the two of you, you’ll always have something he doesn’t: the ability to move on. To forget. To find someone that fits into your life in all the right ways. He’ll never have that, no matter what he wants. No matter what he feels.”

Jake’s gaze settles on the side of your neck. The bite has already begun to fade, scar tissue covering what was once an angry red wound. 

“And he’s already led to you getting injured once. I can’t imagine the kind of guilt he’s probably feeling over that.”

You’re quick to protest. “But that wasn’t his fault—”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jake shakes his head. “That’s how he sees it.”

Lips tightening, you search for holes to poke in his logic. “Isn’t it better to take that risk? You can’t avoid a chance at happiness just because you’re worried it will lead to sorrow in the future.”

“That’s a nice perspective,” Jake agrees. “But it’s a human one. If you want to understand him, you have to consider what it’s like for him. His regrets and sorrows aren’t like yours. They don’t have an end date. They’ll live forever, just like him.”

“But so will the good memories—”

“No.” Jake shakes his head. “They won’t. Time will warp them, eat at them, until the good memories hurt just as bad as the awful ones. Maybe even worse.”

You flinch as if you’ve been scolded. Jake’s features soften. “I don’t expect you to understand. And I know he doesn’t either. He doesn’t expect your understanding or patience or forgiveness. He wouldn’t ask that of you, because he knows it’s not fair. Because he knows that it’s different for you.”

It’s selfless. It’s considerate.

You hate it regardless.  

Carefully, Jake adds a final suggestion, “For you and him, for the sake of your own peace, it might be best for you to do the same.”

His words settle heavily into the air. 

Do the same. It’s vague enough to be open to interpretation, but no matter how you warp it, there’s always one striking similarity. 

Jake is encouraging you to move on, to forget about last night and everything that led to it. To let memories fade and moments die before they can grow into anything stronger. 

And in the grand scheme of things, even in your limited mortal lifespan, it really hasn’t been that long. The first time you saw Heeseung was only a handful of months ago, and the taste of his name was bitter on your tongue for the majority of it. 

There have been so many versions of him. A rival classmate. A pesky annoyance. A savior. A guardian. A lover. 

A vampire. 

You don’t know him. Not really. You’ve seen parts of him, and the remaining pieces feel like something that would be all too easy to want. To love, even. 

And maybe Jake is right. He has the advantage of perspective. He’s seen history unfold and recognizes the patterns. He’s terrified that tragedy will repeat itself. 

But it doesn’t make it any easier – the thought of letting him go. 

Your feelings might be mortal. Your days may be limited, but that doesn’t make them any less significant. 

Amidst all the uncertainty, you know one thing for sure. It’s not a conversation with Jake that will give you any kind of closure, that will lead to any final decision. 

You need to talk to him. To Heeseung. Need to hear his thoughts and fears and desires in his own words. Need him to listen to yours. 

You’re not sure how to go about it. If he’s hellbent on avoiding you, there’s little you can do. 

But there must be something. Some way of getting to him. 

Before you have long to linger on it, another knock sounds against your door. It’s much sharper, more urgent than Jake’s was. 

Immediately, your eyes flicker to the vampire across from you, widening in surprise. 

Jake just sighs, shaking his head slightly. “I apologize in advance.”

Although slightly cryptic, it’s confirmation that whoever is on the other side poses no threat. Slowly, you stand, making your way back to your front door. 

Opening it, you find five overeager faces crowded in your doorframe. 

“Morning, ___,” Sunoo beams. “Hope you slept well.”

 “I don’t know,” Niki whispers, “Those look like some pretty serious dark circles.”

“Dude,” Sunghoon elbows him. “You can’t just say that.”

“Yeah,” Jay nods. “That’s super rude.” Turning to you, he gives you a wide smile. “You look great, ___. Not tired at all.”

In the center of them all, Jungwon just sighs. “Sorry to intrude like this.” Sheepishly, he rubs the back of his neck. “Is there any chance you could invite us in?”

Two minutes later, the sight that greets you would be enough to make you laugh out loud if the surrounding circumstances weren’t so dire. 

Your couch is far too small for the five vampires crowded onto it, elbows flying into ribs every time someone adjusts too far in one direction. Next to the chaos, Jungwon leans against the arm of the couch, eyes trained on you. 

His gaze feels assessing, almost. As if he’s trying to decipher the events of the previous day. Under his scrutiny, you do your best not to flush. 

From his seat at the far end on the couch, Jake’s lips pull into a flat line as another scooch sends him squished up even further against the armrest. “What are you all doing here?”

Jay smiles, nodding at you. “We came to check on our favorite human, of course.” 

“We heard you even snuck into your evil professor’s secret lair.” Sunghoon adds, nodding appreciatively. “Badass.”

“Plus we had to get out of the house.” Niki grimaces. “Heeseung is still in one of his moods.”

Despite yourself, you can’t quite help the expression that crosses your features as soon as his name is mentioned. 

As if that weren’t mortifying enough on its own, of course all six of them pick up on it. 

“Don’t worry about him,” Sunghoon waves his hand dismissively, entirely unaware of why you’re so affected by the sound of his name. “Being in a mood is just a regular Tuesday for Heeseung.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jay shudders, clutching at his neck. “When I mentioned that Jake was planning to go with ___ to New Haven so she could go back into the secret evil jail, I thought he was actually gonna throttle me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so–”

“Anyway,” Jungwon interjects. He might not have been privy to your conversation with Jake, but he is a bit better at picking up on the subtleties. “We did want to form a plan for your return to New Haven. I apologize for the sudden intrusion, but since you and Jake were already here, we thought this might be the best place for all of us to talk.”

Jungwon’s words barely register. He’s there. Heeseung is at their shared home. Of course he is. It makes sense. It’s the most likely place for him to be. 

But he’s there. They’ve all seen him. Talked to him. And now they’ve come here without him. 

“Right,” you nod, forcing a tight smile. “Well, we have the key from the professor’s university office now. And we don’t know for sure, but it just might open the chest I found last time at New Haven. As soon as we know that the professor is away from the building, I think we need to return and try to open it as soon as possible.” 

The thought of going back into that place fills you with a distinct sort of dread, but you need answers. You all do. 

Jungwon nods thoughtfully. “We can do that. We’ll get eyes on him first and establish a warning system for you and Jake.” Reaching into his back, he pulls out a pair of walkie talkies. “Heeseung also mentioned that there’s no cell service down there. The two of you can use these so that you’re not going in blind.”

Reaching forward, you take them from his outstretched hand. “These will be perfect,” you agree. 

“And ___,” Jungwon adds, suddenly serious. “Thank you. Truly. We know that none of this has been easy.” Five heads nod in near perfect unison. “But what you’re doing will save lives. There was another attack last night–”

“What?” You can’t mask your shock.

“A few miles outside of the city,” Jungwon confirms, lips pulled in a tight line. “In an area we hadn’t been patrolling. There were two victims.” Jungwon pauses, his words weighing heavy in the air. “High school students.” 

High school students. In recent weeks, death has become a familiar theme. But youth has it feeling brand new. You suddenly feel like crying. 

High school students. Kids. Children with their whole lives ahead of them. Dreams and plans and goals for the future. All lost in one tragic, horrific moment. 

Your heart hurts for their families, their classmates, their teachers. So many lives affected, changed, darkened. 

Teenagers whose worries should have extended only to homework and exams and finding a date for the prom. Not becoming headline news in an ongoing series of tragedies. 

Wait –

Headlines. News. 

Frantically, your eyes flick towards the clock on your counter. Last night really did do a number on you. You slept well past mid morning. If your clock is accurate, it’s dangerous close to one in the afternoon. Ignoring the fact that you can’t remember the last time you slept so late, you return to the more urgent matter at hand. 

Panicked, you turn to Jungwon. “We might have another problem. I’m supposed to have my first article for Professor Kim written in the next two hours. I don’t know if I–”

Jungwon shakes his head. “It’s already done.”

“What?” A confused frown pulls at your lips. “What do you mean? I haven’t written anything yet.”

Reaching for the bag he set down by his feet, Jungwon pulls out a small stack of papers. “He gave these to me this morning before we left,” he explains before handing them to you. 

Wordlessly, you reach out, accepting them. 

Fingers shaking slightly, your eyes trace the first handful of lines. 

It’s jarring – there’s no other way to describe it. 

You have no idea how he’s done it, but reading Heeseung’s writing feels a bit like looking into a mirror. It’s unsettling, just how easily he seems to be able to emulate you in his writing. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought you wrote this yourself. 

Everything is perfect, down to the last detail. Words you’ve been scolded by past professors for overusing are scattered throughout. Unique turns of phrases that are hallmarks of your style are intricately weaved between paragraphs.

And it only solidifies your determination.  

You have to see him. You have to.    

Writing has always felt like an extension of your soul, a physical manifestation of your very being. And anyone that can capture you this intimately, this intricately, is not someone you can just forget. 

Jungwon, unaware of your inner turmoil, must mistake your silence for scrutiny. “Is it okay?” He asks, an edge of concern in his voice. “We still have some time, so if there’s anything you need to change–” 

“No, it’s…” you trail off, unsure how to describe the writing in front of you. “It’s exactly what I would have written. 

“Oh,” Jungwon nods. “Okay. Well… Good, then. I have the digital copy too. I’ll send it to you and you can pass it along to the professor.”

You nod, a bit numbly, still shaken by what you’ve just read, still brimming with the urge to confront Heeseung about it.  

Logically, you know that your visit to New Haven can’t be delayed for something as selfish as this. People, lives, an entire city, are hinging on answers you might find hidden there, after all. But as soon as you’ve finished, you know what you’ll do next. 

You decide, in your living room, surrounded by a group of six immortal beings, that it doesn’t matter if Heeseung has senses and skills for evasion that far outmatch yours. You will find a way to see him, to talk to him. You have to. 

But then your gaze shifts, lands back on Jungwon. There’s a slight frown that pulls at his lips as he talks to the others, assigning patrol duties and discussing potential complications for your upcoming mission. 

The longer your gaze lingers, the more you see it. The unmistakable weariness. Telltale signs of exhaustion. Jungwon might have lost the physical need for sleep, but the exhaustion that clings to him comes from a different source. And it runs deep. 

All at once, you can’t help but wonder what Jungwon was like, all those centuries ago. Before he met her. The human girl Jake told you about less than an hour ago. You wonder if he still thinks of her now. You know he must. 

You wonder if it hurts just as bad, if the sting is just as sharp every time. And that sends your thoughts spinning to a different, far more dangerous place. 

In five hundred years, when the only memories of you that remain are left in these seven boys, you want them to remember you with fondness. The kind that aches with affection instead of regret. 

If Heeseung wants to prevent an inevitable heartbreak, then you suppose you can’t blame him for it. But to you, his avoidance is cowardice. Distance won’t undo what’s already passed between you. 

If he wants space, then so be it. You have a key in your hands and pressing matters to attend to. Heeseung will only stay hidden so long, and it’s best to do what you can in the meantime. 

You owe it to them, to him, to everyone whose lives have been touched by recent tragedies, to do everything in your power to change the trajectory of current events. 

So, with a new determination, you push Heeseung a little more firmly into the back corner of your mind, tucking all of the loose edges and pressing thoughts into a neat, tidy box to be revisited later. 

Pulling out your phone, you open the digital version of the article Heeseung has written under your name. You give it one more once over, and it’s just as uncannily you as before. 

Tucking away every feeling that inspires for later, you turn back to Jake.

“So,” you venture, eyeing him as he turns the key over between his fingers. “Are you ready to do this?”

…..

New Haven feels only slightly less ominous in full daylight. Although the remnants of winter still cling to the air like a bad omen you can’t quite shake, sunlight streams through the clouds with the steadiness of a sure thing. 

At your side, Jake appears equally uncertain. 

“Your professor has interesting taste.” It’s a joke, something meant to lighten the mood, but you hear the wariness all the same. 

“Wait until you see the inside.”

Jake picks the lock with nearly as much ease as Heeseung had the night prior, and then the two of you are inside. 

Despite his initial uncertainties, Jake handles the looming hallways and odd shadows of the publishing house rather well. Knowing that the other boys have eyes on your professor and are protecting you from afar helps to abate some of the anxiety, even if you still have to force away a handful of unpleasant memories that threaten to rise. 

When the two of you reach Professor Kim’s office, you don’t bother to hesitate. By now, you know what you’ll find on the other side of the door. 

Jake, however, does give a double take at the massive painting you and Heeseung put back into place just one short night ago. 

Gauging his reaction in your periphery, you decide to play dumb. 

“Is something wrong?”

Jake just takes another long look at the painting of the open field, filled with flowers. He tilts his head to the side, and for a moment, you think he rather resembles a curious puppy. 

“No.” Jake shakes his head. “Sorry, I just…” He takes one final look at the painting. “That painting just looked weirdly familiar for a minute.”

“Celedis, right?” You turn to face the vampire. “I thought the same thing, but Heeseung said it’s slightly different. Something about the flowers.”

At that, Jake doesn’t bother to mask his shock. “He told you about Celedis?”

“Showed me, actually. You know,” you reach your arm out towards him. “With the whole physical contact astral projection thing.”

You’re about to ask Jake to help you move the painting, but he’s still stuck in the details you’ve just revealed. 

Jaw nearly slack, he asks, “He showed you Celedis?”

“Yeah,” you frown. You didn’t realize this was new information. “I thought you knew. Back at your house, after I was attacked. He told me – er, showed me – about you guys.”

Remembering the water tower, you add, “And he’s used it, his ability, I mean, to show me other things about his past.” A memory surfaces, one of a young boy sneaking pastries from a medieval kitchen. Your heart gives a sudden lurch. “About Celedis.”

“Fuck, Heeseung.” Jake swears under his breath, but you hear it all the same. 

“Was he not supposed to?” Despite your current feelings of frustration towards Heeseung, your intentions aren’t to get him in trouble or create any sort of rift between him and the others. Suddenly, you’re scrambling to backtrack. “It was really only a couple of things to help me understand, I promise. He would never compromise your safety or–”

“It’s not that.” Jake shakes his head, interrupting. “Heeseung just… his ability isn’t one he uses often.”

At that, your brow furrows. That strikes you as odd. All things considered, it seems like a rather useful gift that should have found several practical applications over the past five hundred odd years. “Why not?” you ask. 

“It’s not…” Jake trails off, hesitating. Trying to decide how much he should share. “It’s not exactly something he takes pleasure in doing.”

Your brow creases further. That only leaves you with more questions than answers. You can’t remember him being particularly bothered either of the times he exercised his ability with you. “What do you mean?”

Again, Jake hesitates. His teeth worry at his bottom lip like that will prevent words from spilling out. “It’s not really my story to tell.”

“What story?” The corners of your lips pull downwards. “I don’t understand.”

For a moment, Jake just takes a long look at you. And then he sighs. “Heeseung explained Celedis to you?”

You nod.

“Including our origin story?” Jake pauses. “Our families?”

Again, you nod. “You were all nobles.”

Jake hums in agreement. “Yeah, we were. After peace was forged, the kingdom had to reorganize itself a bit. Our families were allies now, partners instead of enemies. Eventually, it was decided that each of our families would spearhead one sector of rulership, if you will.” Pausing for a moment, Jake gauges your reaction from his periphery. He asks, “Did he tell you about this?”

Deciding honesty will serve you best here, you shake your head. 

Much to your gratefulness, Jake just sighs again. “My family primarily dealt with the management of food resources. My father tracked annual crop production, rainfall, resources allocation, things like that.”

“Okay…” you nod, trailing off. The picture he paints is a logical one, but you don’t see a connection to Heeseung’s strange supernatural ability yet. 

Jake continues, “Heeseung’s father, on the other hand, always had a knack for strategy. It was decided that his family would be the de facto head of defense and protection of the kingdom. We were allies, but there was still worry that enemies from outside Celedis’ borders might arise. Although, his father’s methods were always a bit more… aggressive than you’d expect in peacetime.”

Frowning, it's hard to imagine. You suppose that hter may be sides to Heeseung you haven’t yet seen, but it’s difficult to think of him as anything but patient. Gentle. Hearing that his father was the complete opposite doesn’t sit well with you. Quietly, you wait for Jake to continue. 

“Even though we kept aging until we were twenty-one, our abilities manifested when we were just kids. And Heeseung, at ten years old, did what any child would do when he suddenly realized he could project his consciousness through touch.” Jake sighs again. “He told his mother.”

The memory comes rushing back unbidden. Heeseung isn’t here to project any visions, but all of a sudden, you feel like you’re back in that field anyway. Watching silently, helpless, as a tiny version of Heeseung accidentally makes his friend ill after his ability manifests for the first time. All over again, your heart hurts for him. Too small to understand what was happening, too frightened to do anything but seek consultation from his mother. 

“His father, of course,” Jake says, “eventually found out, too. And like any great strategist, he saw this newfound ability first and foremost as a tool. Heeseung wasn’t just a heir anymore. He was a weapon. And he was brought along to things no ten-year-old should have to see. War meetings, strategy sessions. Prisoner interrogations.” Jake’s eyes drop to the floor. “Torture, mutilation, executions. He was made to watch all of it.”

The small gasp you let out is involuntary. 

Jake’s eyes find you again. “And then, afterwards, he was forced to relive it, over and over and over. His hand on top of his father’s, so that the kingdom’s leader of defense could analyze every detail. Construct the perfect strategies, devise the best methods for extracting information, for making others bend to his iron will.”

Your stomach rolls with a fresh wave of nausea. 

Jake finishes with, “I’ve known Heeseung for five hundred years, and I can count on one hand the number of times he’s ever utilized his ability with me. Every single one of them has been out of sheer necessity.”

And explaining Celedis to you, sharing pieces of his long lost childhood, are decidedly not. The gravity of it all sinks in with full force, and you suddenly feel as if your knees might buckle under the weight of it all. 

You have to see him. You ache with it now, the overwhelming urge to just say fuck it and run until your feet have carried you all the way to their shared home. Until your fist connects with the outside of his bedroom door and the only barriers that exist between the two of you are easily breakable. 

But Jake has a key in his pocket, and you have the fate of a city resting in the liminal space between you. Selfish desires, no matter how strong, will have to wait. 

“I…” you hesitate for a moment, searching for the right words. “Thank you. For telling me, I mean. For trusting me.” 

Jake nods. “For what it’s worth, we all do. Trust you, that is. Even Jungwon, although he might never admit it out loud. It’s been a while since we’ve spent so much time around a human. They’re all really fond of you, you know.” Jake grins, something just a bit devious entering his eyes. “It drives Heeseung insane.”

“Well,” you return, “For what it’s worth, I’m quite fond of you all, too. Definitely my seven favorite vampires.”

“Aw,” Jake brings a hand to his heart. “You’re too kind. I’m honored, truly.”

Turning back towards the painting, it’s a sobering reminder of why you’re here, what you still need to do. Looking towards Jake at your side, you request, “Help me move this?”

Nodding, a refound sense of determination enters his gaze. “Let’s do it.” 

Painting aside and key in your hand, you find yourself once again face to face with the small opening that separates Professor Kim’s office from that horrifying dungeon of a room that sits just below it. 

Jake hands you a walkie talkie, and you eye it warily for a moment. “We’re sure these things work?’

“Positive,” Jake nods. “We tested them this morning. Oh, and I brought you this, too.” Reaching out, he hands you a headlamp. “He mentioned that it’s pretty dark down there.”

“Good thinking. Thank you.” Clipping the walkie talkie onto your belt loop, you take the light from Jake, securing the headband around your temple. Even though the gravity of the situation isn’t lost on you, you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous. Giving your front pocket a final tap, you confirm that the key is tucked away safely. “Well,” you turn back to Jake, “see you on the other side.”

“Good luck,” he nods. “And if anything, and I do mean anything, feels off, use that to talk to me, okay?” He just his chin at the walkie talkie at your waist. 

“I will,” you promise. 

And then, with just one final glance over your shoulder, you’re suspended into darkness just as surely as the previous night. For a moment, you consider igniting your headlamp. But you decide against it rather quickly. It’s probably best that you don’t see just how far beneath you the ground is. 

This time, thankfully, your decent feels much shorter. With some of the uncertainty stripped away, your feet are touching solid ground before you know it. 

Once you’re firmly planted, you reach for the light on your forehead. 

It ignites, shooting a strong beam of light straight out in front of you. 

Again, you fight the shiver that traces the length of your spine. It is quite cold down here, with a certain dampness that permeates into your bones, but that’s not why you shudder. 

WIth light revealing their secrets, the cells that line the passage are even more ominous. Dark, rusted iron lies in wait on either side of you. 

Handcuffs, chains, spare pieces of metal you’re sure you don’t want to know the purpose for, line your path as you force your feet forward. Even if you wanted to take a closer look, that’s not why you’re here today. Mission in mind, you continue down the long, dark path towards the opening where you know you’ll find the chest.  

Finally, after a few long minutes, you’re face-to-face with the locked chest again. The desk is still there, too, undisturbed. 

Taking a deep breath, you reach into your pocket, retrieving the key from Professor Kim’s university office. Forcing away any other lingering memories of the previous night that threaten to rise, you bring the key to the lock. 

Your hands are shaking. The cold, the fear, the anticipation. They all settle heavy in your bones and leave you with tremors you can’t quite stop. 

“C’mon,” you whisper out loud to the darkness, with no one but you and the faint sound of dripping water to hear. “Come on.”

Finally, the key aligns just right. 

Despite the tremble in your fingers, despite the improbability that this key even matches this lock, it slides in with ease. 

And when you turn it to the right, you hear a telltale click. 

In your shaking grip, the lock falls open. Sliding the key back into your pocket, you pull the lock out of the loop of the front of the chest. Setting it down at your feet, you take one deep inhale. 

And then, with hands that still tremble, you push the heavy lid of the chest open. 

You’re not sure what you expect. Something horrific, maybe. Some damning evidence of evildoing. Something soaked in blood, something so explicitly terrible that there’s no guesswork to be done. 

But the chest contains only two things. 

The first is a massive stash of what you assume must be distilled moonflower. Organized neatly into rows upon rows of tiny small vials that look terribly similar to the contraption he used to shoot you in the neck the first time you came to the publishing house.

This, in and of itself, feels like a revelation. According to Heeseung, moonflower is rare. And knowledge on proper distillation processes is even more obsolete. To have this much of it distilled and on hand… it must mean something. 

The chest is nearly overflowing with the small vials, save for a small space, just in the middle, where a book sits nestled amongst the moonflower. 

A book that looks nearly identical to one you’ve seen before. To one that still sits forgotten in the bottom drawer of the dresser next to your bed. 

Hands still unsteady, you reach for it. 

At first glance, it’s an exact copy of the strange book you found in the university library all those weeks ago. But as you lean closer, you notice one key difference. The title. 

The one you found tucked away on a library shelf was called Sacred Monsters: The Origins of Immortality. 

But it must be part of a set, an anthology of sorts. 

Because the book between your shaking fingers stares back at you with the title Sacred Monsters: Cures for the Affliction. 

Book in your hands, you realize you have a dilemma. The volume is far too thick to take pictures of every page, but removing it from the chest to bring with you feels risky. 

At least this time, you think as you reach for the walkie talkie at your waist, you don’t have to make all of your decisions alone. 

Pressing the button on the side, you speak into the receiver. “Hey Jake, you there?”

A handful of seconds pass before his response filters through. It’s crackly but perfectly audible. “I’m here. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “I found something. A book. It’s pretty hefty. I won’t be able to take pictures of all of the pages. Do you think I should bring it with me or just take a few photos and leave it here?”

“It was in the chest?” Jake asks.

“Yeah,” you nod. “I think it might be too risky to bring with me.”

“I agree,” Jake confirms. “Just take a few pictures, and then get out of there.”

“Will do,” you agree. “See you soon.” You secure the walkie talkie back on your belt loop. 

Setting the book down on the cold ground, you sink to your knees in front of it. Reaching for your phone, the first picture youtube is of the front cover.  

Deciding that they’ll want evidence of the moonflower as well, you reach up to angle your camera towards the open chest. 

And then you return to the book. Opening it to the first page, the similarities are uncanny to the one you found in the library before. The font, the slight discoloration, the ink smudges lost to time. It’s too overwhelming to just be a series of unlikely coincidences. It must be connected to the other Sacred Monsters. 

Taking quick photos as you flip through the pages, you force yourself not to linger, no matter how much curiosity eats away at you. You’ll have time to review the pages later, you tell yourself. Right now, the best course of action is to get in and out as quickly as you can. 

Still, a handful of phrases and words jump out at you as you photograph the pages. 

Moonflower distillation…

Degeneration…

Test subjects…

Nightshade…

And finally, just as you’re drawing to the end of the book, a phrase catches your eye. 

The Kingdom of Celedis. 

Your heart drops into your stomach, body going cold.

He knows. You’re not sure how much. You're not sure exactly what. You have no idea why. But your professor has a book locked away in a secret underground prison beneath his publishing house. A book that mentions a kingdom lost to time, forgotten by everyone, preserved only in the minds of seven immortal beings. 

Professor Kim knows. And somehow, that’s more terrifying than anything else contained in this dark, decrepit place. 

Taking a photo of the final page in the book, you let it fall shut once again. Placing it back in the chest just as meticulously as you found it, you close the lid again and slide the padlock through the hold. 

The key goes in just as easily this time, locks as easily as it opened. Despite the obvious age of everything else in this place, the lock has no signs of rust, no hint of disuse. 

It’s been opened regularly, you assume. And likely by your professor. 

As that realization begins to settle, the walkie talkie on your hip gives another disconcerting crackle. Immediately, your heart leaps into your throat, mind spinning with the worst possibilities. 

You’re at the very end of the passage. It will take you at least ten minutes to be back in the office and another three to be out of the publishing house. More than that if you account for the potential of your professor’s heightened senses. 

After a moment of extended silence, Jake’s voice filters through. 

“Everything still okay down there?”

Your mind swims with relief, but your pulse doesn’t slow. 

Bringing the device to your mouth, you press the button on the side. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just finished. I’ll be back up soon.”

Another beat of silence passes. And then, “Glad to hear it. I’ll be here.”

But you can’t help but confirm, “They still have eyes on Professor Kim?”

Jake answers quickly, “Yeah. Sunghoon and Niki have eyes on him. He hasn’t left his house.”

Tucking the key back into your pocket, you begin the journey back, your quick footsteps echoing against wet stone. “Good. See you soon.”

Down the narrow passageway, your phone feels leaden in your pocket, weighed down with evidence you’re not sure how to parse. You want to be out of here as quickly as you can, back in your apartment where you can compare the two books. Where you can show them to the others. 

Thankfully, again, the way out feels shorter. Despite the ache in your muscles as you pull your body up the ladder, time passes quickly as you ascend back to the publishing house. 

True to his word, Jake waits for you just outside of the narrow entrance. He reaches out a hand to help pull you back into the small room. 

Giving you a quick once over, he frowns. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You practically have. Celedis. But this isn’t the place. 

You shake your head and tell him as much. “Not here.”

Despite the brevity of your words, Jake understands. Instead of pressing you further, he helps you slide the mural back into position, once again covering the opening to the room below. 

Giving the painting a final look, you’re sure of it now. It is Celedis. It has to be. Even if some of the details are slightly wrong. 

But your head is spinning and your thoughts are jumbled and you can’t be the only one with the weight of so many revelations weighing on your mind. 

As the two of you make your way back down the hallway towards the front door of New Haven, Jake tells you, “We’ll reconvene at our place. We can go over everything there.”

You shake your head. “Tell everyone to meet at my apartment instead.” 

“What?” A flicker of confusion creases his brow as his head tilts to the side. “Why?”

“It’ll make sense soon, I promise,” you tell him. “There’s something there I need to show you. All of you.”

Jake glances at you, but he doesn’t question you further. His earlier words echo in your mind. “For what it’s worth, we all do. Trust you, that is.”

At your side, he pulls out his phone as you pull the door to New Haven shut behind you. “Jungwon,” you hear him say. “Change of plans. We’ll meet at her apartment instead.” 

Again, the questions must be short lived, and Jake is ending the conversation just as quickly as it started. 

…..

When you arrive back at your apartment, Jungwon, Jay, Sunoo, and Niki are waiting for you in the parking lot. 

Stepping out of the driver’s seat, Jake nods at Jungwon. Then, after glancing around, he asks, “Where’s Sunghoon?”

“Keeping an eye on the professor,” Jungwon answers. “We thought it would be best to have at least one of us tailing him still.”

Jake nods. 

Jungwon turns to you. “I take it you found something. And there’s something here at your apartment you want us to see?”

You nod. “Yeah. A… well, a book. Two books, actually,” you amend. “Let’s go up,” you nod at the staircase, “and I can show you.”

Jungwon hesitates for a moment. A meaningful glance that you can’t quite decipher passes between the five of them. 

“Okay,” he finally acquiesces. “Lead the way.”

Phone heavy in your pocket, you climb the two flights of stairs with the five of them trailing behind you. The distance they put between you is slightly odd, but you don’t have much space left in your mind to think much of it. 

That is, until you reach your doorstep. And find it already occupied. 

“Heeseung,” you breathe. A force of habit more than anything. 

He’s already looking at you. Heard your conversation in the parking lot and your footsteps on the stairs and your heartbeat in your chest. He knew the exact moment you would round the corner and the number of breaths it would take you to reach him. 

His dark eyes reflect afternoon sunlight in a way that looks all too much like stars, and you have no idea what to do with any of it. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, as if his words are anything more than a bandaid on a bullet wound, as if the five boys behind you can’t hear the words that pass between you. 

And you’ve been stewing in it since this morning, thinking of all the ways you could beg him, plead with him, convince him to let whatever lies between the two of you to blossom, to grow wings. 

But now, with his eyes on you and the fate of a city in the pocket of your jeans, words fail you. 

Finally, your lips part. “I have something to show you.” And now you’re the one putting up walls, building barriers. For now, he’s not a boy that kissed you until your head was spinning and you couldn’t make right from left. He’s a vampire, and the two of you have a job to do. 

Your hurt, your desires, your wounded pride still sit heavy in your gut. 

But you owe it to him – this boy that was born a prince and sharpened into a weapon and cursed with a blessing he never asked for – to bring an end to this particular bout of suffering. 

To let the tragic kingdom of his youth rest once and for all, even if you have to reopen wounds in the process. 

Across from you, Heeseung only nods. 

Stepping to the side, he lets you be the one to open the door. He doesn’t need to linger outside; he’s already been invited in, more than once. But he does anyway. He waits for your words, for your approval, and then he follows you inside. Behind him, the other five exchange long, sideways glances. 

Just like this morning, the sight of the six of them crammed on your small couch is almost enough to inspire a smile. Under any other circumstances, you’d be laughing out loud. Now, however, you just give a long exhale. 

“They key worked,” you begin. “It opened the chest.”

Five hundred years, and they all have yet to perfect their patience. 

“And?” Jay is practically tripping over himself to get the question out. 

“It was full of distilled moonflower,” you tell them. Vials like the one the professor used to inject me in the neck. Hundreds of them.”

“What?” Sunoo gasps.

“How?” Niki frowns. 

“Moonflower is rare,” Jake shakes his head. “There’s no way he could have that much of it.”

“Well, he must know some secret place where it grows or something,” you suggest. “Because he does.”

“No,” Jungwon shakes his head. “You don’t understand. It’s not only a matter of knowing where it grows. Moonflower is a magical substance, and magic is finite. It simply doesn’t grow in abundance. In order for someone to have a stash that large…”

“He’s been collecting it,” Heeseung finishes. “For a long, long time.”

“He’s been a vampire for twenty years,” you remind them. “Maybe he’s been collecting it just as long.”

Again, Jungwon shakes his head. “Hundreds of vials isn’t something that can be achieved in twenty years. Hundreds of vials is hundreds of years.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense.” You frown, wheels in your brain beginning to spin. 

“There are two possibilities,” Jake says. “Either your professor is lying about how old he is…”

“Or he’s not the only one that’s been collecting and distilling moonflower,” Jay finishes. 

Sunoo shakes his head. “We haven’t seen any evidence of him working with others.”

“Either way,” Niki frowns, “Something's not quite right.”

“The moonflower.” Jungwon looks at you again. “Was it the only thing in the chest?”

You shake your head. “No. There was also a book.”

“Right.” Jake nods. “The one you took pictures of.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I left it in the chest, obviously, but I took photos of the pages. I didn’t have a chance to look too closely while I was there, but I think it talks about…” you trail off for a moment, eyes flickering to Heeseung, despite yourself. “I think it talks about Celedis.”

“Celedis?” Jake balks. 

“That’s impossible.” Jay shakes his head. 

But Jungwon just looks at you. “Earlier in the parking lot, you said you had two books to show us.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I do. I was in the university library a few weeks ago, and I found this book. It was about vampires, but it was… I don’t know. It was strange. It wasn’t vitriolic or propaganda. It was almost like a diary. The reason I wanted you all to come here is because I checked it out. I have it here, in my bedroom. But the weirdest part is the title.”

“The title?” Sunoo prompts. 

“It’s called Sacred Monsters: The Origins of Immortality. And the book I found in the chest today, it looked really similar. And it was called Sacred Monsters: Cures for the Affliction.”

A beat of silence passes. Another. 

“That,” Niki finally says, “Doesn’t feel like a coincidence.”

Standing, you nod. “I don’t think so either.” Walking to your bedroom, you open the bottom drawer of your dresser. With the events of the past weeks, part of you expects the book to have vanished mysteriously. To have been nothing but a figment of your overactive imagination. 

Despite your musings, Sacred Monsters: The Origins of Immortality lies undisturbed just as you left it. With careful hands, you pull it out of your dresser and bring it back to the living room, setting it on the coffee table in front of the boys. 

“This is the book from the library?” Jungwon asks. 

“Yeah,” you confirm. “And I don’t have a printer or anything, but I’ll send you the photos I took of the book from the chest today.”

Scrolling through the files you send him, Jungwon pauses on the cover, glancing between it and the book on the coffee table. “I see what you mean. These must be related.”

Reaching for the book, Jay flips open the front cover, frowning. “There’s no author or publication date.”

“I know,” you agree. “It’s all so odd. It wasn’t even in the library system,” you add, remembering that night at the library. “The librarian had to manually check it out to me.”

“Jesus,” Sunoo grimaces, glancing at some of the pages over Jay’s shoulder. “This is super depressing.”

“Yeah,” Jay nods. “I see what you mean. This is definitely about vampires, but it’s nothing like other human-written vampire literature. 

Next to them, Jungwon scrolls through the images you’ve sent him, enlarging photos to read pieces of text. With each and every passing image, his frown grows deeper and deeper. 

“We have a problem,” Jungwon finally says. Looking back at the photo, he amends, “Several, actually.” 

You assume he must have drawn the same conclusion as you. “He must know about Celedis, right? The professor, I mean.”

“Yes,” Jungwon confirms. “I’m sure he does.”

“But how?” Jay presses.

“I don’t know.” Jungwon’s mouth pulls into a grim line. “But that’s not all.”

“This page,” He holds up his phone. “It’s a guide. Explaining in excruciating detail how to harvest, store, and distill moonflower. It also discusses its side effects. On humans and vampires.”

Scrolling to the next photo, he adds, “It looks like they studied these side effects. Through experimentation. Most of these pages are entries. Data. Experiments.” Looking at all of you, he lets the weight of that sink in for a moment. “Whoever wrote this book tested moonflower and its effects. On humans and vampires.”

“What?” Jake frowns. “The professor tested moonflower on vampires?”

“Not the professor, necessarily,” Jungwon shakes his head. “But yes, whoever wrote this book must have.”

“The cells,” you breathe, a sickening realization beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. “The cells beneath New Haven. It wasn’t just a jail.”

“It was a lab,” Heeseung finishes, locking eyes with you. 

Jungwon holds up another photo. “I think you’re right. Look at this.” You all squint as he enlarges the photo. There’s a date at the top – September 13, 1942. And next to it, a number V029.

Beneath it are a series of notes too small to make out from where you sit. Jungwon reads them, “Dosage: 8 milliliters. Injection site: Lower throat, right side. Time of effect: 2 minutes, 19 seconds. 

“V029 continues to exhibit strange behaviors under the influence of Moonflower. Although dosages have varied, the results remain consistent. Today, she spoke again about “Celedis.” When prompted with the addition of pain, she requested drawing paper. Upon refusal, she would not speak. A second dosage was administered (6ml) and further infliction of pain was utilized. V029 did not respond audibly to any given prompt or stimuli.”

“Celedis,” Jake echoes. “One of his… test subjects,” he spits with vitriol, “was the one to mention Celedis.”

“That still doesn’t make sense,” Jay points out. “It doesn’t matter if his test subjects were vampires. We’re the only ones that know about Celedis. Every other vampire in existence is a descendant of the eighth son. None of them should have any idea that Celedis ever existed.” 

“And we don’t know that these were the Professor’s test subjects,” Niki points out, echoing Jungwon’s earlier words. The page is dated for 1942. If he is telling the truth about when he was turned, he wasn’t even alive yet.”

“There must be some way to corroborate that,” you frown. “He said that he was turned the same night his entire family was massacred. Obviously, it wouldn’t have been reported as a vampire attack, but there should be something about it. Some kind of public record of their deaths, at least.”

Heeseung nods, pulling out his phone. “I’ll see if I can find anything.”

“Um,” Sunoo interjects, holding up the original Sacred Monsters book, the one you brought home from the library. “We might have another problem.”

Six pairs of eyes turn to look at him. 

“Most of these entries just seem like personal writing, like you said,” Sunoo nods at you. “But this section towards the end, here…” He trails off for a moment. “It’s called Blood Moon Ritual.”

“What?” Six voices echo in unison. 

“ There’s only one entry,” Sunoo continues, frowning. “And it doesn't really make sense. It’s a poem, like the others,” Sunoo explains. “Here, I’ll read it.

“The Origins of Immortality

That which was lost can be gained. 

The requirements are the same. 

That which was gained can be lost.

The sacrifice goes unchanged. 

Every life can end.

Every life can endure.

Fate is always determined

By what the wish is for.”

For a moment, your living room is silent. 

Jay breaks it by asking, “What the fresh hell does that mean?”

“Literature majors,” Niki glances between you and Heeseung. “Either of you want to pipe in on this one?”

“I mean,” you start, “without context, it kind of just sounds like a bunch of nonsense.” 

Before you can turn the words around in your mind again, Heeseung speaks up from where he sits. “I think I found something,” he says, holding up his phone. 

“Really?” You ask, just at the same time as Jay presses, “What?”

“There is a record from,” he double checks the date, “almost exactly twenty years ago. It’s anonymous, but it gives ages. A nine-year-old child and her forty-three year-old mother. The official cause of death is listed as an animal mauling.”

“That matches, then. That’s exactly what the professor told me.”

“There’s more, though,” Heeseung frowns. 

“More?” Your brow creases. 

“Another death.” Heeseung matches your gaze. “The child’s great grandfather, age ninety-one. And the location of death… Didn’t Professor Kim tell you that he was visiting family outside of the city?”

You nod. “He said it happened in a remote cabin. A group of nomadic vampires attacked them there.” 

Heeseung shakes his head. “The location listed here is the city. This city.”

Your frown deepens. Heeseung sticks the final nail in the coffin. “Their bodies were discovered near a row of abandoned buildings where there have been past instances of mountain lion activity. It’s on the far side of the city. Just a few blocks away from New Haven.”

You echo his words. “His family died near New Haven?” It’s odd, the way the truth seems to mingle with lies. The way your professor seems to have chosen strange pieces of the story to be dishonest about. “Why would he tell the truth about his family dying from a vampire attack twenty years ago but lie about where it happened? And not mention a grandfather?”

“I don’t know,” Heeseung says. The reality of just how much you have yet to uncover begins to settle uncomfortably in the air. Every discovery seems like it only leads to ten more mysteries to solve, another dozen dead ends. 

“I’m still stuck on Celedis,” Jay says. “We need some way to figure out who this person was and how they knew Celedis. We need–”

“We need the whole book,” you finish. 

It’s not a question or a matter of opinion. It’s the obvious conclusion to be drawn. 

Jungwon nods. “Sunghoon should still have eyes on the Professor. I’ll confirm that he’s still home, and then we can–”

“Are you insane?” Heeseung isn’t looking at his phone anymore. His search for more information on the tragic deaths of Professor Kim’s family are forgotten for the moment. “She was just there twice, and you want her to go back again? Now?”

“Heeseung…” Jake warns, taking care to guard his tone. 

“I know it’s not ideal,” Jungwon tries to placate him, “But that book has answers that we need. Right now, all we can do is speculate. If your professor has a massive stash of distilled moonflower and knows about Celedis, who knows what else he might have access to? What else he might know? People are still dying, and he’s connected to it all somehow. I’m sure of it.”

“I know that,” Heeseung bites, visibly frustrated. “But why does she have to be the one to–”

“And how exactly are you planning to get one of us down there?” Jungwon sighs, running an open palm over his features. “I don’t want to argue with you, but unless you have a plan for getting Professor Kim to invite you into his secret vampire torture chamber, ___ is the only one of us that can get this book.”

“It’s okay,” you finally interject. Something about the two of them arguing over your fate while you sit and watch doesn’t quite sit right with you. More than that, something about him always speaking over you, acting as if it’s all in your best interest, while also not bothering to give you the time of day, is all too reminiscent of the other decisions he’s made on his own. 

Still, you choose to be gentle. “I debated with Jake, actually, about whether I should bring the whole book or not. We thought this would be safer for now, but I knew it was a possibility that I would have to go back for it. I was prepared for this.”

Heeseung looks like he wants to say more, like he wants to argue, but something in your expression has his words dying on his lips. 

“I’ll get ready,” you nod. Retreating to your bedroom, you add, “Just give me a minute to grab my jacket.”

In all honesty, your jacket is the least of your concerns. Because despite your resolve, despite the will that you’ve forced yourself to steel, Heeseung is right. 

Even at a distance, he can still read you like the back of his hand. Like an open book with nothing but pages for him to peruse at his pleasure. 

The thought of going back to New Haven, of going back into that cold, dark, empty expanse of horror sends your mind spiraling. Walking into the bathroom adjoined to your bedroom, you place both hands on the counter on opposite sides of the sink. It’s an attempt, a feeble one, maybe, at grounding yourself. 

Forcing your gaze upwards, you match your own eye in the mirror. A million emotions are reflected back at you. Determination, weariness, resolve, fear. 

You’re scared. No matter what you tell them, no matter what you tell yourself, you feel it. Swimming in your mind, nestling in your bones. A terror rooted so deep you’re not sure you’ll ever get it out. 

You don’t want to go to New Haven. You don’t want to descend down that ladder. You don’t want to risk your life or your comfort or your sanity. You don’t want to have feelings for an immortal being that needs blood to survive. 

But reality doesn’t bend to the whims of frightened girls, and ignoring the things that scare you won’t make them go away. 

Bravery, you think, as you watch your reflection in the mirror. It’s not just reserved for moments that feel grand in scale. It’s also here, in places like this. Where there’s nothing but you, your reflection, and all of the things you wish you could avoid waiting for you just outside the door. 

So with a final inhale, you force your features into something neutral, something that at least five of the boys waiting for you outside will believe. And then you walk back to your bedroom, making sure to pull your jacket over your shoulders before stepping back out into the living room. 

Jake stands from his seat on the couch when you enter the room again. Heeseung avoids your gaze. 

“You ready?” Jake asks. 

“As I’ll ever be,” you nod, forcing a false sense of cavalier lightness into your tone. 

“Good thing I left the headlamp in the car,” Jake jokes, pulling on his shoes. 

“And the walkie talkies,” you agree. 

Despite yourself, you can’t quite stop your eyes from wandering back towards your living room one last time. 

Jungwon is dictating new assignments while the others listen attentively. Well, three of them anyway. 

Heeseung just sits there, his eyes still trained on the ground. 

You’re sure he can feel it, the way your gaze settles on the side of his face, traces his profile and then does it again. But no matter how long your gaze lingers, he won’t return it. 

And maybe this is it, you think. Maybe you’ll just have to make peace with the fact that all you’ll ever get from him are closed doors and avoided eye contact. 

He’s had his teeth in your neck and your blood on his lips, and despite it all, the only thing he has for you now is a cold shoulder disguised as concern. 

And if this self flagellation is some kind of atonement, an apology for a crime he’s convinced himself he’s committed, then that, you think, is where his true selfishness lies. 

He can call it altruism and immortal wisdom all he wants. But caring for you from a distance will never be something you thank him for. 

It’s not a declaration you can make in front of an audience, so with a final sigh, you turn towards your front door and follow Jake’s retreating figure from it. 

As it so happens, you can be selfish too. You pretend you don’t feel Heeseung’s eyes on your back the entire way out. 

However, you must not be as good at disguising your fear as you thought, because Jake is nothing but apologies while the two of you walk side by side down the stairs. 

“I really am sorry,” he breathes into frigid air. The warmth of his breath creates a visible cloud. “I shouldn’t have told you to just leave the book there, but I was worried–”

“It’s not your fault.” You shake your head. “I thought it would be best to leave the book, too. And it’s okay, really. I’ll be just fine.”

“Still,” he reiterates. “I’m sorry that it has to be you. It can’t be fun going down there all alone. And especially since we know what it was used for now…”

Your lips flatten. “Are you trying to make me feel better or worse?”

“Sorry,” He laughs, apologizing again. “You’re right. No more gloomy talk. We’ll just get you in and out as fast as we can, and we can worry about the rest of it later.” 

“Works for me.” You force a tight smile, reaching for the car door. If it’s any consolation, you’re glad that it’s Jake you’re with. His presence is steady, carries a certain kind of lightness that helps to chase away some of the lingering storm clouds, even if just for a moment. 

But just as you move to slide into the passenger seat, you hear the telltale sound of footsteps on pavement over your shoulder. They’re rapid, loud. Whoever it is, they’re running. 

Turning over your shoulder, your brow creases in confusion when your eyes land on Heeseung. Again, it’s not you he’s looking at. 

Heesung is talking to Jake when he says, “Change of plans. Jungwon wants you down by the river.”

“What?” Jake frowns. “But what about–”

“I’ve got her.” Heeseung’s words cut through the air like an arrow, pierce through your uncertainties like a knife. 

“I…” Jake trails off. He’s looking at you, not Heeseung when he asks, “You sure?”

“Go,” you nod. “I’m sure Jungwon has his reasons.” It’s flimsy reasoning, and between the three of you, no one is convinced that Jungwon is responsible for this change. 

But they’re switching places all the same. Jake gives you one final glance over his shoulder, and you swear you see him shake his head before he heads back up the stairs to where the other boys still sit in your apartment.

And Heeseung still won’t look at you, even as he walks around to the other side of the car and slides into it, sitting only a handful of inches away from you. 

It’s a reflection of this morning, an echo of earlier as the car turns out of your apartment parking lot and sets course for New Haven. Only this time, it’s Heeseung in the driver’s seat, not Jake. 

The silence between the two of you extends for long minutes, nothing but the gentle hum of the car heater to fill the empty air. 

Finally, with nothing but road ahead of you, Heeseung exhales a long sigh. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You say the word, and I’ll turn this car around. We can go back to your apartment or to my place or somewhere else entirely. I’ll get you on a plane out of the country, if that’s what you want.”

You raise a brow. His meager attempts at kindness have started to lose their shine. “And the book?”

Heeseung shakes his head. “Fuck that stupid book.” 

Easy to say, maybe. But both of you know it’s not true. Besides, “I don’t want to leave the country.”

“Really?” You can’t tell if he’s serious when he adds, “I hear that Costa Rica is lovely this time of year.”

“I’m sure it is,” you concede. If he wants to skirt around admissions, you’ll run headfirst into them. “But I’d be worried about you.”

Heeseung only sighs. “I can take care of myself.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You’re sure he knows it, but being difficult on purpose isn’t new to either of you. “And we’ve had this argument before. My mind hasn’t changed, and clearly yours hasn’t either. If you get to decide how to live your life without any input from me, then I expect the same courtesy from you.”

“It’s different,” he insists. Now, at least, he’s talking. Even if it’s only to beg for a bit of your understanding. “I’ve already lived a life. Too many lives. Five hundred years worth of life with no sign of any end coming soon.”

You have to disagree. “Have you, though? You know, when people talk about having lived a life, they’re not just talking about years. They’re talking about family, friendships, community. Achievements, accomplishments.” The last word dangles from your lips. Oh, fuck it. “Love.”

Next to you, Heeseung is silent. You press on, “I understand that you’ve made up your mind. That with all your five hundred years of immortal wisdom, you’ve decided you get to make decisions for the both of us. But you know what else is a normal part of life? Kissing someone and regretting it. You can just avoid me at parties, you know. You don’t have to threaten to send me to Costa Rica.”

“It wasn’t a threat–”

But you’re not done. “I liked it, by the way. In case you were wondering. I don’t care if you regret it.” Your pride feels like something forgotten, discarded long ago. Maybe it’s a facade or false bravado, but you find it easy to bare your secrets here in the passenger seat. “I liked it when you kissed me. I liked the way it felt when you put your hands on me. I liked the way you lost control with my blood in your mouth. I went home and I laid in bed and I thought about it. All alone in my bedroom, with my hands on my skin everywhere you touched me while I pretended like it was you. I dreamed about you. I woke up thinking about you.”

Heeseung whispers your name. A warning, a plea. He might as well be shouting in your ear. 

“You can avoid eye contact and pretend it never happened all that you want. I’m not going to. In fact, I’m probably going to think about it again tonight. Do what you want. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t have feelings for you, and I’m not going to avoid New Haven,” Your chest is heaving now. Between words, it’s easy to forget that you need to breathe, too. “And I’m not running away to fucking Costa Rica.”

“You think I enjoy this?” Heeseung’s knuckles are white against the steering wheel. “You think I like having this… this war in my brain? This constant struggle? You think I’m playing with you? Toying with your feelings because I can’t make up my mind?” He shakes his head and sends your thoughts scattering. “I’m not. You used to glare at me across the lecture hall, and it would be the highlight of my day. I looked forward to every assignment Professor Kim gave us, because it meant I’d have another chance to read something you’d written. I’ve been alive for five hundred years, and I don’t think I’ve ever found anything that makes me feel the way your words do. For the first time in my life, I felt like someone else could take what I was feeling and put it into words.”

That gives you pause. He… thought about you? Even then? He read your writing?

“And it didn’t stop there. I used to go home from class imagining, praying that I could be like every other person in that stupid class. That I could be just another kid in my twenties worried about disappointing their parents and picking the wrong major. That I could waste my afternoons staring at the pretty girl in my literature course that couldn’t be bothered to give me the time of day. Fantasizing about asking her to study with me at a coffee shop or share a workroom in the library.”

Your eyes are wide now, and they’re trained directly on him. Heeseung is still looking out at the road in front. 

“You think I don’t think about you too? That I want to pretend none of it ever happened? You’re wrong. All I do is think about you, and all I do is want. But they’re things I can’t have, things I can’t be. I wish I could fall asleep dreaming about you. I wish I could wake up with you on my mind and know that I only have so many days to do something about it.”

He shakes his head, as if that will clear the errant thoughts that have clearly begun to consume him.

“But I can’t. I can’t sleep. I can’t shut off my brain, even for a second. All I do is think. All I do is remember. You think I didn't like it? You think I didn’t go home with the feeling of your skin on my hands and the taste of your blood in my mouth? You think I don’t spend every waking hour with the sound of you whimpering burned into my mind? I’ve wanted things before, but never like this. I made peace with myself a long time ago. I know what I am and I understand that ultimately, my existence is a burden to this world. I’ve learned to stop wishing for impossible things. But every time I look at you, I just… I just want.”

Your voice is small. You don’t know how to respond to any of it. “It’s okay to want things.”

“It’s not.” Heeseung shakes his head. “Not when they’re impossible. Not when it will only bring pain to the people I care about. I don’t want to be someone you avoid at a party. I don’t want to watch you move on with your life when this inevitably ends. But all of those things you talked about earlier, all of those parts that make up a life – friendship, family, community. I can’t give you any of that.”

It’s hard to hear. It hurts to see how visibly upset he is about all of it. 

“It doesn’t matter if I live for another five hundred years or a thousand years or until the end of time itself. I already know I’ll spend all of it thinking about you.  I’ve made peace with it before, and I’ll learn to do it again, but I can’t take your life from you. And even if I wanted to, I can’t watch you grow to resent me for it.”

In front of you, the road appears endless. With sunlight reflecting in the rearview mirror, the day is dying, and your hopes are going with it. 

“When I tell you that I’ll send you to Costa Rica if that’s what you want, it’s not because I’m trying to get rid of you. It’s because I want you to make the choices that are best for you. Not for me, not for the boys, not even for this city. I don’t expect you to take me up on it. Your moral compass will be the death of me, I’m sure. But the offer will always be there.”

Your emotions feel frivolous. Your desires feel petulant. Still, you can’t help but counter, “And what if I resent you now? For not even giving this a chance?”

Heeseung smiles, a wry thing that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Then I’ll take comfort in knowing you have a whole life ahead of you to get over it.”

It’s a stalemate that has the car stumbling back into silence, even as your head spins. He noticed you, he thought about you, long before you ever thought you were even a blip on his radar. 

He read your words and connected to them. As a writer, it feels as if he’s admitted to seeing your soul and finding it beautiful. As a human, it makes you want to fall in love, despite all of the ways he’s thoroughly and entirely erased that possibility. 

You’re not sure how long you sit in the quiet, mind reeling. It can’t be more than a handful of minutes, though, before the scenery around you begins to take a familiar shape. You’re close. 

Early evening has just begun to close in. Around you, shadows are growing longer, street lights flickering on as the last rays of sunlight fade from the day. 

Still a few blocks away, Heeseung pulls into an empty parking lot. 

You frown. “Surely we can get a little closer than this?” It’s seamless, how well the two of you slip into your roles. You have a job to do. In the face of that reality, it’s as if the past twenty minutes don’t exist at all. The only evidence is the lingering tension that simmers in the air. 

“It’s not that.” Heeseung pulls his phone out, frowning at the screen. “Sunghoon’s not responding.”

“What?” Your eyes widen. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Heeseung assures you. “He was responding to Jungwon just fifteen minutes ago. But that means we haven’t heard from anyone with eyes on the professor since then.” Weighing his options mentally, Heeseung finally suggests, “Why don’t we drive by New Haven first? We can make sure everything looks okay. If Sunghoon still hasn’t responded by then, we can make a decision.” 

“Okay,” you nod. 

Back on the road, it takes you less than five minutes to reach the publishing house. Immediately, you can tell that something is wrong. 

“There’s a car,” you whisper, even though you’re still inside the safety of the car, still driving down the road. “There’s a car parked out front.” 

“I see it.” Heeseung’s lips pull into a tight line. 

“I think it’s his car.” Your eyes widen. “The professor’s.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung confirms. “I think so too.”

“Why is he here now?” You wonder. “Didn’t you say Sunghoon had eyes on him at his house just fifteen minutes ago?”

“Something’s not right,” Heeseung agrees. “I’m going to turn around. We’ll head to the house and figure things out there.” He maintains an even tone, but you can sense the hint of panic in his voice, the slight tremble as he turns the car around and starts to head in the opposite direction. 

“Sunghoon…” You trail off. 

“Try calling him.” Heeseung passes you his phone, jaw tight. 

Taking Heeseung’s phone from his outstretched hand, you press the call button. The phone rings. In the quiet, each shrill ring sounds like thunder, burns like terror. 

“He’s not answering.” Your voice is quiet as you state the obvious. The call drops from lack of response. 

“Fuck,” Heeseung swears beneath his breath. But then he reasons, “I’m sure it’s fine. He’s probably just occupied at the moment or–”

The sound of a ringtone suddenly fills the car. 

“Is that him?” A wave of relief washes over his features. But it’s premature. 

“No,” you shake your head, frowning at the dark expanse of Heeseung’s screen. “It’s my phone. Hold on.” Digging it out of your pocket, the caller ID only makes the dread in the pit of your stomach intensify further. 

Again, your phone rings, the sound cutting through the car like a knife. 

“Who is it?” Heeseung asks. “Your heart just jumped like crazy.”

“It’s Professor Kim.” Your words are barely a whisper. 

“What?” Despite the task at hand, Heeseung takes his eyes off of the road and turns to you. 

“I should answer it, right?” You frown, fingers trembling. “He’s probably just following up on the draft I submitted earlier.” You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince – Heeseung or yourself. 

“Fuck,” Heeseung repeats. “I… yeah, you should answer.”

“Okay, just,” you sit up a little straighter, as if your professor can somehow see you. “Just don’t make any sounds.”

Sliding your thumb across your screen, you accept the call. 

“Hello? Professor Kim?”

“Hello,” he greets from the other end. Oily slick as always, but there’s something ragged in his voice, too. As if he’s recently exerted himself. At the very least, he doesn’t leave you wondering for long. “I had a chance to review your article.”

“Oh,” you reply, some of the tension easing from your shoulders. “What did you think?”

“Outstanding work,” he praises. “Truly. You are one of the most gifted students I’ve ever come across.”

Under any other circumstances, you’d beam with the praise. Now, your anxiety only heightens. Twists knots in the pit of your stomach. “I… I appreciate that, professor. It means a lot coming from you.”

“I’d like to discuss my suggestions for edits, of course.”

“Right,” you nod. “Could I call you back? I don’t have my computer at the moment, and–”

“I’d like to discuss with you in person, actually.”

“Oh,” you force neutrality into your voice, even as your heart gives a sudden lurch. “Okay. I’m available tomorrow, if there’s a time–”

Again, he interrupts you. “I would like to speak with you tonight. And I have something to show you. It’s quite urgent, I’m afraid.”

“Tonight?” You echo. And ‘something to show you’? At your side, Heeseung stiffens. “It’s a bit late. I’m not sure…”

“With the recent deaths in mind, I’m sure you understand that time is of the essence. The sooner we can publish your work, the sooner the victims can be avenged.”

You turn to Heeseung, a question in your eyes. Matching his gaze, you see the way his head begins to shake. His silent disapproval of the idea. But then he stops, sighs. 

In the driver’s seat, next to you, Heeseung silently mouths three words. 

It’s your choice. 

It almost makes you want to cry. His small adjustment. His trust in your ability to choose for yourself. 

Into the receiver, you ask, “Where should I meet you?”

“The publishing office,” your professor responds, approval in his voice. “How soon can you be here?”

Mentally constructing an alibi, you settle with, “I’m not too far away, actually. Probably twenty minutes. Maybe a little longer.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you shortly.”

The line clicks dead. 

“I don’t like this,” Heeseung’s voice is dripping in unease. 

Yours is no better. “I don’t either, but it’s all part of earning his trust, right?”

“He said he had something to show you. I don’t like all of the possibilities that could entail.”

“I’m sure it’s just something to do with the article,” you try to reason. “He’s probably prepared it as a mock publication or something and thinks I’ll be thrilled to see my writing in an official format.”

Under any other circumstances, you would be.

On the topic of your article, you’re reminded that the words in question aren’t actually yours at all. If this car is a place for revelations, you decide to add one more to the list. 

“How did you do it, by the way?” Your gaze traces Heeseung’s side profile where he looks out at the road ahead. “How did you write that article just like I would have?”

Heeseung just sighs. “I told you,” his voice is low, quiet, “your writing means a lot to me. I’ve spent a lot of time with it. I suppose that made it easy to emulate.”

“Well, thank you.”

“For stalking your writing?” Heeseung teases. 

“For reading it,” you correct. “For taking the time to understand it.” To understand me. 

“You act like it was torture for me.”

“Well, I do remember you calling one of my pieces ‘nauseatingly vitriolic.’” It feels like a lifetime ago, that evening in the writing workshop. 

“That was one piece,” Heeseung defends. “And it wasn’t really you.”

“No,” you agree, “it wasn’t.”

Heeseung glances at you, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine it too. A world where he’s just Heeseung and you’re just you. 

Two humans that met by chance, worried about disappointing their parents and picking the wrong major. Arguing over semantics and vying for attention from their professor. Stealing glances across the lecture hall that start to linger just a little too long. Meeting outside of class and pretending it’s nothing more than a terrible coincidence every time, even if you never fail to slide down into the seat next to his. 

Stealing kisses outside of your professor’s office. Sharing a cup of warm tea at a sporting event both of you are only pretending to understand. Falling in love. 

Simple moments. Quiet moments. Human moments. 

Heeseung reminds you just how far away that version of reality is when he asks, “Should I turn around, then? It’s already been five minutes.” His voice is quiet, like there’s a fantasy he doesn’t want to disturb, too. 

You shake your head. “Take a right at the next light, and drop me off at the bus stop. There’s a group of cafes a couple stops down that are popular with students. If he asks, I’ll say I was at one of them when he called.”

Heeseung doesn’t bother to protest. He follows your directions until the two of you are parked on the curb of the bus stop. Bidding him goodbye, you step out from the passenger seat. “I’ll meet you back here,” you tell him. “I’ll take the bus this far, just to be safe.”

“Okay,” he agrees, “but message me before that. As soon as you can.”

“I will,” you promise. The moment lingers for seconds longer, a million words and promises and declarations dying on both of your lips. You sever them all with the shutting of the car door. 

Heeseung doesn’t drive away, not until the bus arrives. And even then, you swear it’s his car you get fleeting glimpses of in the rearview mirror. 

But a handful of minutes later, Heeseung and his car are nowhere to be seen as you exit at the stop closest to New Haven. With the absence of the sun, there’s a biting chill in the air. Grateful for your jacket, you pull it a bit tighter around your body, suppressing a shudder. 

Glancing down at your phone, you send one final message before taking your last few steps towards the publishing house. 

Going in now. 

Heeseung responds in milliseconds. 

Be safe. 

Raising a fist, it feels a bit odd to knock on the same door you’ve broken into twice in the past twenty-four hours. The irony doesn’t have long to linger. Professor Kim is quick to answer the door and even quicker to usher you inside. 

Tonight, he looks every bit the well-kept professor you grew used to in your classes. With a creaseless button down tucked into dress pants, he might as well be back at the front of the lecture hall.

“Thank you,” he reiterates as he leads you down the hallway. “I appreciate you coming on such short notice.” 

“Of course,” you nod, trying to look as enthusiastic as he wants you to be. “The gravity of the situation is not lost on me. I’m excited to review your edits and get my article published as soon as possible.” 

“Right,” he nods, a bit apologetically. “You’ll have to forgive me, then, but I have something rather important to show you first.”

That makes your brow crease in confusion. Is what he’s showing you not related to your writing?

“What is it?”

Your professor just shakes his head. “I’m afraid words won’t do this justice. Follow me.” 

Beckoning you forward, he leads you to the same room you were poisoned in the first time you visited New Haven. Suppressing a shudder at the memory, you force your footsteps forward, even as your senses start to scream at you in protest. 

Pausing at the door, he turns over his shoulder to look at you. “You’ll be pleased to know that I believe I may have been wrong about Lee Heeseung.”

That sends ice spinning through your veins. You don’t like the sound of Heeseung’s name in his mouth, hate the idea that he’s been so fixated on him. “What do you mean? Wrong in what way?”

“See for yourself,” your professor grins. And then, he opens the door. 

The room is as dim as it was the last time you were here, but this time, your professor is quick to turn on the overhead light. 

But the absence of darkness only reveals a horror much worse than anything you imagined the darkness concealing.  

Because on the opposite side of the room, hunched in the corner, there is a figure illuminated under the harsh fluorescent overhead lighting. 

His system is infused with so much moonflower essence that he can hardly do so much as lift his head. But when he finally finds the strength to do so, you make direct eye contact with Park Sunghoon.  

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: Hello my loves! I am so happy to finally be able to share this with you all. I know I mentioned before that part of the reason it took so long was because of some recent changes in my life outside of tumblr, but if I'm honest, part of it too was that I was just having a really hard time continuing this story in a way that felt like it did justice to the first three parts.

There are so many moving pieces and things going on, and I really want to make this story come to life in the best way possible. Thank you for being patient with me while I agonized over that internally lol. I hope that this part was worth the wait. Love u all ♡♡♡

[bbrissonn]

𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝 - 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ in which your agent forces you into a relationship for PR, but when you find yourself developping feelings for the boy, everything goes to shit

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ disclaimer: english is not my first language and this is not proofread so please excuse any errors and if any words are missing add them in your head :) also this is a work of fiction, this doesn’t reflect how these boys act in real life, and it isn’t how i imagine them acting 

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ warnings: angst angst angst, no happy ending cause bitch does the song sound like a happy ending 😭, mention of sex but no nsfw content, swearing

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ pairing: luke hughes x reader

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ wc: 8.7k (including lyrics)

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ guts masterlist

Want it, so i got it, did it, so it’s done Another thing i ruined i used to do for fun Another piece of plastic i could just throw away Another conversation with nothing good to say

You were currently sitting in your manager’s, Chris, office alone, two other chairs next to you as you waited for him to return with his “special guests”. You truly had no idea what this was about, you never had meeting with guests, or whatever he meant. Your confusion only grew as you heard your manager’s laugh as he walked back into his office, another man in a suit next to him as he too laughed out loud, and a boy who looked about your age walking in behind them. 

“Y/N, this is my friend, Mike, and his client, Luke, he plays for the New Jersey Devils.” 

“Hi.” You answer looking briefly at the two before looking back in front of you. The last thing you wanted to do at the moment was have a social party with two strangers. 

“Excuse her behaviour, she’s been a little one edge lately. You two make yourselves comfortable.” Chris said as he walked to his desk chair, pulling out some papers from one of his drawers. Meanwhile, Luke took a seat next to you, sending you a small smile, which you didn’t bother to return, and Mike sat on the last chair. “Ah, don’t you just love a freshly printed contract!” Chris added, looking at his friend before the two shared a small laugh. 

“Contract?” You and Luke both ask at the same, looking at your respective managers. The two stayed silent for a couple of seconds, before Chris cleared his throat. 

“Mike and I have been talking for a bit, and we’ve both come to the conclusion that this is an excellent step for to the two of you to take to help your careers.”

“Career? I’m doing just fine, thank you very much.” You sassed as Luke shifted awkwardly in his seat. He knew who you are, how could he not. Your first big time movie had released only a couple of weeks ago, it was all he would see whenever he watched TV. But the movie had not been doing has good has your manager had hoped, no brands or magazine really reaching out to work with you. 

“Luke’s an uprising star in the NHL, Y/N, big prospect here, lots of attention on him. It wouldn’t hurt for you to get some of it.” 

“Well if he’s so beloved, what’s he need me for?” You asked, pretty much ignoring the two other men present in the room. At that, Mike stepped him, coughing slightly to bring the attention to him. 

“Luke’s been involved in some… worrying headlines lately. Being seen with you, seemingly in a committed relationship would do him some good.”

“Relationship?”

“Commited?” The two of you exclaimed once again. The last thing on your mind at the moment was being in a relationship, you had to focus on your career. 

“I’m not dating a stranger!” You said, drifting your gaze from Mike over to Chris, who was already looking at you with a pleading smile. 

“You two don’t need to actually date, as long as the media believes you do, what you do in your private time is none of our business.” He explained, his words almost sending you off of yout chair. 

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever head!” 

It took almost an hour for Chris to convince you to sign the contract, which somehow had crazier terms than the idea itself. Your “relationship” would last for 8 months, meaning during the length of Luke’s season. To make it even worse, no one outside of this room could know about the contract, meaning you would have to pretend to both your families and friends. Thankfully, the boy who would be your fake boyfriend was not as ugly as other men you’ve seen, sure he was far from your usual type, but he had some positive traits as well. His height being the first thing to catch your eye when he first walked in. Plus, he was an athlete, and it was hard to ignore his muscles showing throught his thigh polo shirt. He didn’t seem like an asshole either, so maybe there was a chance the two of you could somewhat get along. 

“So, what’s your favourite colour?” Luke asked as both of your managers left the small room for a couple of minutes, insisting the two of you got to know each other a bit. You looked over at him as his words hit, was this really the first thing he was going to ask you? You just rolled your eyes as you looked down at your lap. “Look, I’m just as happy as you are about this. And if I’m being honest, I’m not really interested in knowing more than needed about you.” He added, shifting slightly in his seat to have a better look at you. 

“Green.”

“Green?” He scoffed, making you send him a look, almost challenging him. 

“Yeah, green.” You sassed, making the boy smirk slightly.

“Like a- like a bright green or-”

“Are you mocking me right now?” You questioned, not finding the smile on his face amusing.

“No, no, just… interested, you know. There’s lots of greens out there.”

“Forest green.” You answered, keeping it short in simple before looking away and back down at your lap. 

“Not gonna ask mine?”

“Not interested.”

“Dark red, for sure. Although, you can never go wrong with maize and blue.” 

“Maize and blue?” You quipped. It was now Luke’s turn to give you a look. 

“Maize and blue. Michigan, baby!” He said with enthusiasm, earning himself a look once again. You took a second to look at him, really look at him. He  looked like a baby. 

“Michigan?”

“Michigan.” He repeated with a grin. 

“You from there?”

“Sorta.” He responded. You raised your brows at him, clearly indicated for him to expanded his answer. “Born in New Hampshire, moved to Toronto for like 10 years, then we moved to Detroit, been living there ever since.”

“And maize and blue, that’s…?” You trailed off.

“University of Michigan! Maize and blue, wolverines.”

“And I’m guess you went there.”

“Sure, did. My eldest brother too.”

“Cute.” You said, your voice filled with sarcasm. “When you’d graduate?” This was your way of finding out how old he was, without directly asking. 

“Didn’t.” Great, a college dropout. 

“You dropped out?”

“Yeah, to come here. If it makes you feel any better, I did attend all my classes, got good grades. I’m not some idiot.” He explained, you could tell he was feeling a little annoyed by your question. 

“Okay, well when would you of had graduated?”

“2025.” If you had a drink in your mouth, you would’ve spat it right out. This guy, this college dropout guy, was 2 years away from his graduation. You were right, he looked like a kid because he is one. 

“Gosh, how old are you?”

“Turned 20 last month. Why?” His words made you stand up, ready to storm out of the room and hunt down Chris. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not doing this. Gosh, you’re a kid. I can’t pretend to be in a relationship with a kid!” You exclaimed as you went to push the door open, only to realize it was locked. Great. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Well, how old are you?”

“Don’t asked a women her age!” You snapped as you still tried to push the door open. “24.” You whispered as you realized there was no way this door was going to open, at least not thanks to you. “25 in January.” 

“You’re like… the same age as my brother.” Luke whispered to himself, his face turning into a grimace at the thought. 

“See, even you find it weird! Let’s just tell them it makes us uncomfortable. You’re too young for me, and I’m too old for you.”

“Never said you were too old for me. What if I like older?” He smirked as he made himself more comfortable in his chair. There was no denying his attraction towards you. Your instagram had popped up tons of times on his explorer page, and he never shied away from liking your posts. 

“You just said I am your brother’s age. Do you not find that weird?”

“Well, if we’re getting technical, he’s born in 1999, and from what I understand, you’re born in 2000. So you’re not his age, you’re just like 3 months younger than him.” He explained, his smirk still plastered on his face as you dropped down on your chair with a sigh. This was going to be the longest 8 months of your life.

I thought it, so i said it, took it ‘cause i can Another day pretending im older than i am Another perfect moment that doesn’t feel like mine Another thing i forced to be a sign

“So, what do I do exactly?” Luke asked from besides you. The two of you were currently on your way to some award show, meaning you would have to walk a red carpet. A red carpet with Luke. 

It had been about three weeks since you had sign the contracts, you and Luke had spent some time trying to get to know each other. He tried to put in some effort, ask you question as simple as your favourite food, and some more complexe, like what made you move from North Carolina to New York. You barely put in any efforts to answer his questions, simply because you weren’t interested in him getting to know you, and vice-versa. The two of you had been spotted a couple of times by fans, but you never held hands, or displayed affection towards each other in public, not like you did in private, but no one really knew what to take away from the pictures. 

“Just, stand there and smile. There’s gonna be like a thousand cameras, so just keep your eyes moving, ignore their questions and yells. When the workers tell you to move, you move.” You explained, your eyes looking outside the window. The red thigh dress hugging your skin perfectly, your heels the same colour, you looked gorgeous. Luke was wearing a black suit with a red tie matching your dress. 

“You gonna pretend like you at least enjoy being within 5 feets of me.”

“Aha. You’re so funny, I’m dying of laughter.” You responded, you voice in the same monotone voice you always used with him. “You make a fool of yourself, or me, and I will rip your eyes out with my own hands.” 

“Kinky.” Luke smirked as the car came a stop. The boy looked over at you, your eyes were closed as you took a deep breath. You hated this things, you hated walking down that carpet, papparazies with cameras in your face like wild animals. You hated it. Your eyes snapped open, and a giant smile appeared on your face.

“Let’s go.” 

Luke stepped out of the car first, everyone around holding their breathes as they waited to see who else was going to come out of the car. The boy stretched his hand towards you, a small nod of his head as you slowly made your way out of the car. The cameras were flashing around you everywhere, and you could tell Luke was getting a little overwhelmed. 

“Ignore them, just walk with a smile on your face, nod a bit.” You whispered to him as you leaned in close. Then, the two of you made your way to the door, you fingers intertwining with Luke’s without you even noticing. As you crossed the door, Luke let out a small “woah”, his eyes rooming around the entrance. He had been to his fair share of events for the NHL, but none of them were like this. Everything look expensive, everyone looked expensive. He was completely starstruck. So much he didn’t even noticed a worker coming over to the two of you and giving you instructions. 

“Luke?” You asked, making the boy snap out of hi trance. “We gotta go, come on.” You whispered before guiding the boy to where the worker had gone. “You okay?” Your voice was so low the boy wasn’t even sure if it was real of his imagination playing a trick on him. 

“Yeah, it’s just…”

“A lot.” 

“Yeah.” He answered as you looked over at him. The boy could’ve sworn he had seen the corner of your mouth lifts slightly, before your head snapped back to the worker. 

“Alright, you too, once she’s done, you two can go. Remember to smile, you both look perfect, enjoy the night!” She said with excitement as the girl in front of you moved to the next area of photographers. Luke heard you take another deep breath before slowly making your way onto the carpet. 

“Put your hand on my waist.” You whispered, a smile on your face, as you let go of his hands, that you hadn’t even realized you were still holding. Your hand landed near the top of his shoulder as you put one of your foot out and bent your leg. The slit of your dress riding up you thigh as flashed surrounded you. You felt Luke’s hand glide across your lower back before settling on your waist and pulling you a little closer to him. You instinctively leaned your head on his shoulder as you plastered your best smile. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“This is exhausting.” The boy sighed as the two of you finally sat down at your table. 

“Welcome to my world.” Thankfully, the two of you were able to avoid any interviews, and once you were done with the carpet, you were free for the rest of the night. 

“You nominated for anything?” Luke asked as he reached down to the menu on the table. You had warned him that he wouldn’t be able to pick was he ate, everyone was getting the same thing, besides of course people with allergies and such. Chicken. Not his favourite, but not the worse. 

“Me, no. The movie is, but I doubt we’re gonna win.” You answered, only two of your co-stars could attend, the other one being busy with a new project. Sadly, you were seated a couple of tables away from them. 

“Why not?”

“Because when you go up against movies like Avatar, it’s hard to win.” Luke didn’t asked any other question about the awards after that. 

“For what it’s worth, I think you should’ve won.” Luke whispered to you as the cast of Avatar made their way onto the stage. You looked over at him, the two of you hadn’t spoken since before the show started. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean Avatar’s good you know, classic. You’re movie was great.” 

“You watched it?”

“Before the whole… you know. My brother, Jack, we were looking for something to do and he made us go. You look hot in black.” He mentioned, clearly referreing to the long black silky dress you had worn in the movie. 

“Are you flirting with me?” 

“Is it working?” He asked with a smirk, only making you roll your eyes. 

“No.” Silence. One minute, two minutes. “You didn’t mention you knew who I was.” This was probably the first time you had been the one who made the effort to keep a conversation going. Luke smiled as he shifted in his seat slightly. 

“To be fair, you don’t really like when I talk, and when I do, I doubt you listen.” He answered. You couldn’t tell if he was taking a jab at you or not. He probably was. 

“Just because I am not interested in what you have to say, doesn’t mean I don’t listen.” You said, almost like you were defending yourself. 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You sassed. “We’re at every different points in our lives, we have different interest, our brains don’t think the same way. I mean you’re pretty much a college frat boy, and I am about to be 25. You play hockey, which I know nothing about, and I act and model. Totally different.”

“I modeled for American Eagle once.” He stated, and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. But as you looked over at him, the deep shade of red on his cheek answered your question. 

“You modeled for American Eagle.” You repeated softly, trying your best to hold in a laugh. 

“Just… laugh. You wouldn’t be the first one.” He mumbled with a small smile on his face. You let out a small giggle.

“That’s interesting. See, we could talk about that.” 

“It was… like two years ago. It was like with the school or whatever. My buddies were, like ruthless. It was horrible.” He explained, making you giggle even more. 

“They at least pay you well?”

“Yeah, yeah, it was good.” 

“Good on you.” The rest of the night, you and Luke surprisingly talked a lot. You hated to admit it, but you were warming up to him. He was sweet, there was no denying that, and you did feel bad for how you had acted before. 

“Y/N!” Chris exclaimed as you answered his phone call. You and Luke were now back in the car, on your way to your apartment. 

“Hi.” 

“How was your night?” You looked over at Luke, his eyes focused on his phone as he texted his brothers, who were apparently freaking out about his outing with you.

“Better than I expected.” You answered honestly. 

“Good, good. Have you been looking online? They love the two of you together, you’re all the media is talking about right now…” The man kept going but you paid no attention to his words. You eyes fixated on Luke. He had a soft smile on his face as he typed away on his phone, chuckling every now and then. You hated to admit it, but this night had gone far better than you had imagined. Luke was… well he was something. Maybe these next couple of months wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

Well, sometimes i feel like i don’t wanna be where i am Gettin’ drunk at a club wuth fair-weather friends Push away all the people who know me the best But it’s me who’s been making the bed

“I mean, it’s been great! Just, so proud of her, and excited for her. She’s been working really hard for years, and I mean, yeah, just, she deserves this.” Luke answered the reporter, the lie slipping so easily from his mouth. You were now two months into this fake relationship, and your friendship with Luke had grown. You two actually spent time together now, enjoying the other’s company. You had been quite present in public with him, and fans were quickly growing for your relationship. 

The lies came out so easily about your relationship. How you had met, how long the two of you had been together, all of it. It almost worried you how good he was at it, of course for you, it was just acting, but this was totally new to him. Gosh, he was so good at it that sometimes it almost felt real. Like right now, his hand on your waist, holding you close to his side as he spoke with a large grin. 

“Think they like me more than you, now.” The boy joked as the two of you sat down. You were now at a movie premiere, your movie premiere. This project had been completed long before you ever met Luke, yet it was still so easy for him to lie about how proud he was, and how hard you worked. He didn’t know. He didn’t know how much effort and passion you put into this job because he wasn’t there, yet the lie sounded so natural. 

“Yeah might have to let you come alone next time.” You joked with a fake smile on your face, one that Luke knew too well by now. 

“What’s wrong?”

“You do it so easily.”

“What?”

“The lying. Just, I don’t kno- nevermind, it’s stupid.”

“No, no, hey, talk to me.” Luke whispered, his hand reaching for yours. His touch felt so natural, so right, that you had to remind yourself why he was doing it in the first place. You were surrounded by people. 

“I just, you’re a really nice guy, Luke, and this industry it can… can do stuff do stuff to you, bad stuff. Stuff that changes a person, and I’d hate for that to happen to you, and for me to be the reason.” You admitted, looking down at your lap. You almost felt pathetic. 

“I am not gonna lose myself. Trust me, I’ve got 2 older brothers and a bunch of guys that keep me very humble on a daily bases. They keep my grounded, my whole family does. Even with hockey. And I am tougher than I look, you know.” He joked at the end, elbowing you slightly. You smiled softly at him, nodding your head slightly. 

“You promise?”

“I promise.” He whispered back, his pinky connecting with yours. “My parents are always asking about you, you know. Jack and Quinn, too. Well, pretty much everyone in my life.” The boy added after a couple of seconds of silence. His words made your body stiffen. 

“Oh.”

“Do you, uhm, wanna meet them? That way you can see for yourself how humble I’m being kept.” The boy added. 

“Sure, yeah.” You answered, your voice shaky as you looked around the room. 

“We can just start with Jack, he’s the worse one though, but he’s the only on that lives here, so. But we do play Quinn in like 3 weeks, so my parents are gonna be in town…” 

“Jack first works.” 

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ 

“Can’t believe my brother actually convinced you to date him. I mean little Lukey, with you.” Jack said with a teasing smile on his face. By the ton in his voice, you understand he meant the “with you” part as a compliment, almost saying you were too good to be with his brother. 

“Jack-”

“I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised. I taught you well, Lukey.” The older boy added with a proud smile. You looked over at Luke, who smile at you apologically. You had spent your evening at the brother’s apartment, Jack had tried his best to cook a meal for the two of you, but you ended ordering instead. 

“It’s getting late, I should get going.” You stated, peaking quickly at the time at your phone. 

“I’ll walk you to your car.” Luke said, standing up quickly from the couch and you were fast to follow his move.

“You can stay over if you want. Its getting pretty late.” Jack said nonchalantly, making you look over at Luke. The two of you had never spent the night over at the other’s place. Well, actually, Luke did sleep over most of the times after events, but he always slept in your spare room. You knew they didn’t have a spare room, and sleeping on the couch was too risky as it could be seen form the kitchen. 

You and Luke shared a quick conversation with your eyes, refusing to stay over would probably wave form red flag. 

“I’ll leave the two of you alone, don’t worry. Just, please remember that I do sleep in the room next to yours, Luke.” Jack said with a smirked as he stood up from the couch, joining the two of you. He ruffled Luke’s hair slightly, before giving you a smile. 

“Good night.” He said before turning around and making his way to his room. After his doors closed, silence took over the whole apartment with you and Luke standing in the middle of the living room. 

“So…” 

“You really don’t have to if you don’t want.”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ll stay. He seems really happy about it, so.”

“Right, yeah. Uhm, I’ll get you some clothes.” Luke said before guiding the two of you over to his room. Ten minutes later, you were laying next to him on his bed, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie of his. 

“He’s not as bad as you said, you know.” 

“That’s ‘cause he just met you. He’s an ass, really. Once you get to know, like really know him, he’s gonna be the most annoying person you’ve ever met.” Luke said with a scoff, making you smile slightly. Luke’s bed wasn’t exactly the biggest, meaning the two of you were laying shoulder to shoulder. 

You looked over at him, only to find him already looking at you. And then before you knew it, he was pulling you on top of him, your lips connected as his hands roamed your body. 

There was no denying the the two of you felt quite attracted to the other, and as you got to know him more and more, you attraction only grew and grew until you felt like you didn’t even have to pretend anymore. This was turning into something real for you, and you could only hope that the boy felt the same. 

The next morning, you woke up alone in the bed, wearing nothing but Luke’s hoodie. The first notification on your phone being from him. Hey, had to leave for practice, didn’t wanna wake you. Left a key on the counter, i’ll call you tn :).

Only he didn’t call, didn’t text either. And when he showed up at your place the day after, it was like nothing had happened. You wanted to talk about it, you needed to talk about it, but he had quickly made it very clear that he had no interest in that conversation. So, you stayed quiet and pretended it didn’t happen, that nothing happened. 

I’m so tired of bein’ the girl that i am Every good thing had turned into something i dread And i’m playin’ the victim so well in my head But it’s me who’s been making the bed

“It was so nice to meet you, sweetheart. You should come visit this summer.” Ellen gushed as she hugged you tightly. 

“I will.” You lied with a smile. Your 8 months would end right when summer would start, and you honestly had no clue what would happen after that. 

“Maybe we’ll see Luke a little more if you do.” Jim joked as he and Ellen waved at you as they left the apartment. Jack had offered to drive them to the airport, meaning it was only you and Luke in the apartment. His apartment. You hadn’t been over since that night, a night that almost felt like a secret. Like if you were to talk about it, or mention it, the world would explose. Like you were walking on breaking glass, and bringing it up would be that extra pressure that would make it snap for good. 

“You stayin’?” Luke asked as the two of you stood by door. 

“I don’t wanna be a bother.” 

“You won’t.” Luke said softly, his hand reaching for yours. “I want you to stay.” 

Those words, those 5 small innocent words, somehow lead to you once again waking up in nothing but his hoodie. You were alone once again, but you could head the two brothers arguing about something stupid in the living room. You quickly found your underwear and a pair of sweatpants before making you’re way to the two boys. 

“Y/N!” Jack exclaimed as he saw you slowly walking down the hallway. The older boy was sitting on the couch, while Luke stood behind him. But the younger boy quickly made his way over to you, wrapping his arms around. 

“Morning, baby.” The boy said softly, making your eyes grow wide. Baby. Luke had just called you baby. You never used nickname, never had and never even talked about it. 

“Hi.” You mumbled against his chest. 

“Y/N, tell your boyfriend that you always brush your teeth before you eat, not after!”

“Gosh, Jack, leave her alone.”

“Why would you brush your teeth before you eat? You’re just making them dirty again.” You answered Jack, making the boy’s smile drop, while Luke just let out a chuckle. 

“I made pancakes.” The boy mumbled, guiding towards the kitchen and away from Jack. 

“You trying to poisson me?”

“Not yet.” Luke chuckled as he placed a cup of coffee in front of you. The boy leaned against the counter as he watched you slowly started eating the pancakes in front of you. 

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” The boy mumbled as he walked past you, pressing a small kiss to your head before heading towards the bathroom. His reaction and action to your questions made his answer quite clear. 

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

“What’s up with you?” 

“Mm?”

“What’s up with you?” Luke repeated, making you look up from your phone. The two of you were currently sitting on your couch, a hockey game playing on your tv. 

“Nothing’s wrong with me.”

“That’s bullshit. You’ve been on your phone the whole night.”

“I’m busy, Luke.” You mumbled. It was a lie, you weren’t busy, you were just not interested in having a conversation with him after what had happened last week. Thankfully, he had left for a roadtrip with the team that same night, meaning you had one full week where you could just not think about him. The two of you texted a bit, but nothing more than seeing how the other was doing. The second the team’s plane had landed, the boy was quick to make his way over to your apartment, catching you completely off guard. 

“Yeah? Busy doing what? Scrolling on Tiktok?” The boy mumbled as he stood up from the couch. His action made you look up at him. “If you didn’t want me here, you should’ve just said so.” He added before walking away towards the front door. 

“You could’ve just texted, ask if you could come, not just show up at my door with no warnings!” You said as you followed him, making him scoff as he finished putting his two shoes on.

“That’s what this is about? I didn’t ask if I could come see you? We haven’t seen each other in a week, Y/N, sue me for thinking you’d want to hangout. For thinking you’d want to talk, catch up, see how I am doing-”

“Talk? You want to talk? Where was that attitude last week Luke?”

“What are you talking about?” The boy asked, making you scoff at him. He couldn’t be serious right now. 

“Why do you refuse to acknowledge the fact that we’ve had sex, twice now. Every time I even try to bring it up, you shut me out. So, I am sorry if I am not in the mood to talk to you when you please, Luke.” You snapped back, your voice filled with annoyance. Luke rolled his eyes at your words, making you bit your lip out of anger. 

“I can’t deal with this right now.” He said as he threw on his jacket. 

“See, you’re doing it again!”

“What is there to talk about, Y/N? We had sex, so what? Don’t be making a big deal out of this. Don’t act like this is something real, okay? We’re friends.” Luke said harshly, making your body freeze. The boy was gone before you even realized he was moving. Was this not real? Was all those nights spent doing nothing but talking about life nothing? Or how easily his lies would slip out of his mouth, were they really lies? 

Gosh, you felt like an idiot. Luke’s sole problem with this whole fake relationship thing was the commitment, he didn’t want that. He was a 20 year old just starting off his life, he didn’t want to be tied down right now. He didn’t have the time to be truly committed to someone right now, and you felt stupid for thinking he did. Stupid for thinking that those sweet comments he would make in front of camera were anything but sweet comment for the camera. Stupid for thinking some stupid contract would actually change Luke’s playboy attitude. I mean, that was the reason his manager wanted this relationship; clean up his image. That’s all you were, someone to clean up his image, to let other people know that Luke Hughes wasn’t just some guy going around fucking every girl he met. That’s all you were. 

You stood in front of you door for what felt like hour, praying and hoping that the boy would walk back in and tell you it was just a joke. That he didn’t mean those things and you meant more to him than he let on. That you weren’t just his friend, or his fake girlfriend. But he never came back. Never said the words you wanted to hear the most. Never. 

The next morning, you texted him asking if the two of you could talk. Nothing. No answer, no reaction, just silence. He had seen your message, and you couldn’t help but tear up at the sight of your message thread. Seen. 1 hour. 2 hours. 3 hours. The sun was starting to set and the word seen was still plastered on your screen. You felt even more stupid than you did the previous night. Laying awake in your bed, waiting for something, anything. Any sign of life that let you know that he was out there thinking about you. 

And a sign of life you were given. Of course, it wasn’t the one you wanted, if anything it was the opposite. You cursed yourself as the first tear fell down your cheek, and then even more as the tears kept falling. No way. There was no way this was real. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t do that to you, right? 

But he did. On your phone screen, staring back at your tear stained face, were photos of Luke in a bar, his hands all over a girl as his lips danced with hers. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course he did, the contract didn’t mean anything to him, it was just to keep his manager happy. 

You knew he knew this would get out. That people would see and it would reach you in only minutes, but he didn’t care. You were the last thing on his mind as he walked into that bar, his eyes roaming the room to find someone, anyone, who could help take his mind off of you and the stupid contract. People knew who he was now, he gained followers like crazy as the public became more and more in love with your relationship. And here he was, blatantly cheating on his fake girlfriend simply because he could and he wanted. 

There was no way Chris would make you keep your promise of 8 months. No way he would make you look like the stupid girl who went back to her cheating boyfriend. Right? No, no, Chris wouldn’t do that you. Although you weren’t so sure anymore, you thought Luke wouldn’t do something like this, and he did. 

And every night, i wake up from this one recurrin’ dream Where i’m drivin’ through the city and the brakes go out on me I can’t stop at the red light, i can’t swerve off the road I read somewhere it’s ‘cause my life feels so out of control

The next morning you woke up with your phone blowing up, which made you quite confused since you had made sure to put it on do not disturb last night, meaning the only one who could be reaching you right now was Chris. You had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning. You hated this. You hated that you let your guard down with the boy, hated that you let him, gave him the power, put him in a position to hurt you. You hated what you actually felt for him. You wouldn’t call it love, but your heart was his and only his. It was stupid, I mean you had only known him for barely 3 months. 

“What the hell happened?” Chris asked as soon as you answered his call. You tried your hardest not to let the tears fall again. Sitting up in your bed as you looked over at your clock, 10 a.m. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You whispered, your voice breaking slightly. 

“I’m outside your door.” The man said before hanging out the call. You slowly made your way out of bed, walking to your door and letting the older man in. Chris tried his best to hold in a gasp as his eyes met you. Your hair was a mess, but that’s not what caught his attention, you face did. It was red, really red, so were your eyes. Left over mascare from the previous day lingering around your eyes. 

“Y/N/N…” He said softly as he followed you to the couch, where you threw your body down before wrapping yourself in a blanket. “Are you okay?”

“Please… please tell me the contract’s done.” You begged, your eyes tearing up as you watched Chris looked down at the floor. 

“He won’t… he won’t let us. I asked, I mean this looks bad for him, but Mark he’s… he’s not letting up.” Chris explained, his voice low and soft as tears started falling out of your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“We argued. We did… we hooked up, twice. And it meant more to me than it did to him. He got mad, stormed out, and I haven’t heard for him in almost two days, so.” You explained, trying your best to keep your voice stable. Chris let out a deep sigh at your words, his fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll talk to Mark, again. See if we can find a middle ground.”

There was no middle ground. You had signed the contract. Luke had sign the contract. And although Mark was not happy with his client, you had signed the papers. Which led to you sitting in Chris’ office, Mark next to you and Luke on the other side, later that day. The last time the four of you had been in the same room, you never would’ve guess what the next couple of months were going to be like for you. Never in a million years did you think you would grow to actually enjoy the younger boy’s presence, and you certainly never believed you would actually have feelings for him. 

“All right, so, papers were sign-”

“Can’t we just sign other papers to say we agree to end it or whatever.” You quickly cut Mark off, making the three men look over at. 

“Y/N…”

“No. I am not gonna be painted as the dumb girl who goes back to a cheater! This was supposed to be good for my image!” You said looking at Chris. He knew you were right, so did Mark and Luke. This was supposed to be a good thing. 

“Y/N-”

“No! I am turning 25 in a week, Chris, I am too old for this stupid high school drama. I don’t care about the stupid contract! I am done with this.” You said sternly before standing out and leaving the room. Of course, Luke was quick to follow you. 

“Y/N!”

“Fuck off, Luke.” You called out, not even bothering to turn back around. Of course, just to your luck, the elevator took forever to come up, giving Luke the chance to catch up to you. 

“Please, just hear me out.” The boy begged as he stood besides you. His words made you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. Thankfully, the doors opened and you were quick to enter and press the button to close to door. Unfortunately, Luke was quick to place in hand in the way, joining you inside. 

“Hear you out? What is there to hear out, Luke? You’ve made yourself very clear, so, please, just leave me alone.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!” The boy said before pushing the emergency button, making the elevator stop. 

“What are you doing?”

“Let me talk.” 

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say, Luke. I get it, okay? You’re young, and you wanna enjoy your life. You don’t want to be tied down, I get it. I can’t give you what you want, and you sure as hell can’t give me what I want, so just back off.” You whispered before pushing the button. Thankfully, you weren’t far away from the first floor, meaning about 3 seconds later Luke was standing in the elevator all alone. His eyes fixated on you as he watched you made your way out of the building. 

He was such an idiot. 

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Every year was the same. You’d go to sleep the night before your birthday, expecting to feel completely different the next morning. But then you’d wake up and feel the exact same. 

25 was no different. If anything, you felt even more pathetic this year. You were 25 crying over a 20 year old who only thinks with his dick. Everyone always looked like they had their lives figured out by that age, relationships with someone they were convinced they were going to marry, or kids on the way, a stable work income, dreams they wanted to fufill. You had none of those. Well, since your fake relationship with Luke, producers were a lot more interested in what you could bring to their movie. But that attraction only came once you were by a man’s side. 

This 20 year old little boy had brought more success to your career than you ever did before. Pathetic. Even more pathetic that the same 20 year old could not give two shits about you. Pitiful. Yeah, that works better. 

You had no plans for the day, ever since the whole “cheating” drama went down, you had stayed inside. You didn’t go on social media, there hadn’t been a single sign of life from you, and honestly you didn’t have the energy to give you. You couldn’t be bothered to give you because you were too busy mourning the lost of a relationship that didn’t even exist. 

You spent your morning on the couch watching some stupid reality dramas, trying to make yourself feel better. Hoping that maybe there were some bigger idiots out there. And as you watched the same girl cry over the same guy for cheating on her for about the tenth time, you realized maybe you weren’t so pathetic. You had made it clear to everyone you wanted to be alone today, you didn’t have the energy to socialize right now. The only people you were planing on seeing were your food deliveries guys. 

So, when the sound of your doorbell echoed through your apartment, your brows furred. It couldn’t be food, no you were currently eating it. You were left even more confused as you opened the door to see no one. Looking down, your eyes met with a large basket filled with flowers, treats, stuffed animals and much more. A larged card with your name written on it with a handwriting that you could recognized all too well. You could see him out of the corner of your eyes. Granted all you could see was the top of his head as he had stopped halfway down the staircase as he heard your door open. But he was there. You weren’t sure what you should do. Do you look at him? Keep pretending you don’t? Do you even take his gift? 

Your head was telling you to go back in, take the gift, throw the card away and just fill yourself with sweets. But your heart had the better of you. You missed him. You hated that you missed him, but you did. Luke almost let out a yelp as your eyes met his. He didn’t know you could see him. The two of you stared at each other before you softly nodded towards your door. 

The next thing you knew, the two of you were sitting on your couch, Luke’s gift basket on your coffee table as you stared at the wall. Luke’s gaze was fixed on you, you knew it was. You could feel it. 

“I miss you.” He whispered so lowly you could barely hear it, but you did. You didn’t know if you should believe him or not. You let out a small scoff at his words. You weren’t falling for it. “I’m being serious, Y/N.”

“You don’t miss me, Luke. You miss the attention I gave you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. Because the second that attention was gone, you went to someone else to give it to you.”

“I want to be with you, Y/N, and I am so fucking sorry for what I did. And I know sorry is never going to make it to you, but please-”

“You want to be with me? You want to really be with me?”

“Yes! The only reason I never mentioned the fact that we had sex was because I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way I did about it.”

“But I did! And when I finally told you, you pretty much told me to go fuck myself and that it meant nothing to you! And now you really wanna sit here and tell me it meant more to you than a quick fuck? Please, Luke, I wasn’t born yesterday.” You snapped, looking over at him. “You embarrassed me. You made me feel stupid for thinking you would ever want something more than a quick fuck. And that wasn’t enought, that you had to go and hookup with some random chick in a public place, knowing people would find out, that I would find out about it. Now I look like the idiot who got cheated on by some kid.” 

“Look, I messed up, I know I did. I freaked out and ran away, when I should’ve just been honest with you. But, please, let me even try to make it up to you. I want to be your boyfriend, Y/N, I really do.” 

“I turned 25 today, and when you turn 25 it makes you realize that you have no clue what’s going on in your life. I mean I’ve got about 15 to 20 years until I can’t have babies anymore. I want to get married and have kids soon, Luke. And you’re no where near wanting that in your life. Maybe you are being honest, maybe you do really want to be with me. But I mean what I said in the elevator, you can’t give me what I want. I don’t want to wait another 5-6 years for you to be ready to settle down. I need someone who’s ready right now.” You explained. Luke knew you were right, his older brother had gone throught the same realization last summer. 

“We’re at different points in our lives.” Luke mumbled the same words you had told him during your first real outing in public together. Gosh, you wish you could go back and do so many different things that night. You wished you hadn’t let your guard down, maybe this whole thing would’ve never happened and you’d be out celebrating your birthday with your friends and fake boyfriend. Maybe. 

“Yeah… and if I’m being honest, I don’t think I could ever forgive you. You made me look like a fool to everyone, Luke. And maybe I was just being stupid with my feelings or whatever but I atleast thought we were friends, and you’d never humiliate me publicly like that.” You said harshly, making the boy look down at his lap. “I deserve better.” 

“I’m sorry I can’t be better.”

“You should leave.”

And i tell someone i love them just as a distraction They tell me that they love me like i’m so tourist attraction They’re changin’ my machinery and i just let it happen I got the things i wanted it’s just not what i imagined I’m so tired of bein’ the girl that i am Every good thing has turned into something i dread And i’m playin’ the victim so well in my head But it’s me who’s been making the bed

The next day, you were freed. The whole contract thing was done. Chris had told you the reason it hadn’t been before was because Luke didn’t want it to be done. But that something in him had changed last night and he had agreed to end it. It felt odd really, you never guessed you could miss something that never really existed so much, but you did. You cut all public ties with Luke and his world, making it quite obvious to the public that your relationship was over. 

You went back to your old life, pretending none of it had happened. Pretending that Luke Hughes hadn’t walked into your life three months ago and flipped your wold upside down. You didn’t talk about it, you refused to talk about it because you weren’t sure you’d be able to answer any questions without crying. You felt even more pathetic about that. You and Luke had never officially been together, neither of you ever flat out say you liked the other. So why were you so hung up on him? Maybe it was the way he always knew how to boost your confidence before a red carpet. Or maybe how attention he paid to details. You didn’t know, and you didn’t like it one bit. 

What made it even harder was that Luke was went back to how his life was before. A different girl in his bed almost every night, and now since he was linked to you, even more attention was brought to it. It was hard, seeing the boy you were so hungup on kissing all these girls. But all the negative attention that came with it almost made you feel better. This whole situation was supposed to do some good for both your images. 

Now a month later after your “break up”, you were the girl who go cheated on, but was thriving in the industry, while Luke was a cheating whore. It made you feel good. Good to see that people on the internet stil hadn’t lost their minds and sense of logic completely. Good that maybe you did come out of this stronger and more liked than before. Good that you were about to start working on the biggest project of your career so far, and Luke would be stuck being reminded of his actions every time he opened his phone. 

But you still felt pathetic. You weren’t sure you’d ever stop feeling pathetic. Pathetic for lying to all your friends and family, lying to his family. Pathetic for not answering any of Jack, or Quinn or even his parent’s messages. But you couldn’t. What were you supposed to say? Oh, I am actually not that sad because we never really dated, it was just a contract. I mean, that would be a lie, but part of it would also be the truth. It was just a contract. You both messed up, and you needed to stop acting like this was all Luke’s fault. 

You shouldn’t have slept with him, you shouldn’t of had let him ignore the fact that you slept together for so long. You did this to yourself in a way. You knew going in about Luke’s behaviour, you knew the second the contract was over, he’d go back to his old ways. You knew. But you still let yourself fall for it. You could even say you were to blame for it. You kissed him first. You kissed him. Both times, you iniciated it. So, who was really to blame here? 

Somethings i feel like i don’t wanna be where i am Countin’ all of the beautiful things i regret But it’s me who’s been making the bedMe who’s been making the bedPull the sheets over my headMaking a bed, oh-oh

[obae-me]

How He Kisses

Hey there, so things are...kinda awful right now, and while I don't want to fully distract myself from my other works I'm chipping away at, I did want to post something a bit short and sweet to hopefully- well, saying "to make everyone feel better" feels sort of self-inflated, but if I can make everyone stop and think about something happy for just one second, that's more than I can ask for. I have no idea how similar this is to my hug headcanon ones. Not really checked for too many errors, this was all kind of done in the spur of the moment, but I don't think that matters too much.

Lucifer

Proper and slow. He likes being patient, kissing you once before pulling back to look at your face. He feels a sense of Pride when he can see the effect he has on you, knowing that he can comfort you like this. He's a perfectionist, he likes the whole experience to be included. That's why he likes to do it more often when you two are alone, knowing he has the freedom to do whatever it takes to make this moment perfect. Whether it's music, a lit fireplace, over a dinner, under the comfort of a blanket, everything is set up for you. To show his love for you, nothing less than high quality will be accepted. The kiss is simply the bow that ties everything together. And he'll take his time to relish in this moment with you.

Mammon

Fervent and greedy. He cannot contain his love for you. Even around his brothers, he lets it slip. So when you find yourselves alone, it's like pulling the lid off a stuffed container. Your eyelids, your ears, your forehead, cheeks, chin, lips, none of them shall be spared in his spree. It's almost frantic, as if he doesn't get as many now, he'll never have them again. He craves all of you, and he wants to be only yours in equal measure. Love, soul, attention, all of it is for you. It's as if he has to make up the seconds lost whenever you're apart. He never wants it to end. He hardly breathes. Every one is just as good as the last, and he is focused on making it just as wonderful an experience for you as well. After all, he wants you to be greedy too. Tell him your every desire.

Levi

Eager and grateful. Push past the anxiousness and the self-doubt, and you find a Levi that adores you more than anything. Like an ultra rare drop he can't get anywhere else. If he can stand in line for days for something he wants, he will stand with you till the end of time. His kisses show that, how deeply in love he is for you. Given the chance, he has the confidence to prove to you how special you are to him. Every kiss gets him more excited than the last, and in turn, he's determined to do whatever it takes to make you feel just as joyous as he is in these moments. Thank you for being here with him, your presence means more to him than you currently know, and he'll spare no effort to start showing you that.

Satan

Meek and curious. Whether or not it is considered if he's kissed someone before, every time he kisses you, it feels like the first time. He almost always has a distant look on his face, as if he's thinking about a million other things at the same time, and every million of those thoughts is something about you. He learns something new every time and commits it to memory. Which way your head naturally tilts, where you prefer his hands to be, how many you like, how long they take, he's going to remember them all. Well, he says that, but oftentimes its as if his mind wipes after every kiss. It's hard to think during those moments. But he's not worried about it, that just means he'll have to keep going. He has no plans to leave your side anytime soon after all.

Asmo

Uplifting and addictive. He likes to kiss for every occasion, every emotion. Happy? Kiss. Excited? Kiss? Sad? He says he saves his best kisses for those moments especially. Maybe it's shared love that makes his kisses almost tingle, or maybe its some kind of magic. It makes you feel light. And he'll give you as many as you want. He adores kissing you, not able to get enough of it. It's as though he's almost on clockwork, having to give you an embrace at perfect intervals throughout the day. He can't get enough of you, and he can't help but get giddy at the thought of running to your side and letting you know exactly just how much he loves you.

Beel

Warm and encompassing. Gluttony often gets mixed up with Greed, but this is one of those instances where the differences are clear. Every kiss is slow, and feels as if it lasts several lifetimes. It's as if he's drinking you in, savoring this moment in it's entirety. Of course he'll come in for seconds, and thirds, and fourths, but it comes steadily. Something about his kisses fills you with a warmth that's hard to describe, similar to soup or a hot beverage seeping through every part of your body to endure the coldest of days. It makes your toes curl like they're in warm socks. It makes you feel as if nothing can get to you. And with him around, nothing will.

Belphie

Soft and persistent. No amount of drowsiness can stop him. Even if he's asleep, the demon that will normally sleep like the dead will wake himself up and make sure to give you a kiss. They're so gentle, and it's difficult to tell if its tied to his personality, or if he's afraid of hurting you. Sometimes they're as light as a feather, almost tickling you. If you're falling asleep, they'll never wake you, only guiding you towards sweeter dreams. With every movement you make, you'll almost recognize the sensation of his kisses. They're like a promise, an assurance, that even in the deepest darkest of dreams, he's right there. They always lull you into a sense of peace.

[choerypetal]

Reunited Once Again / Viktor (Arcane)

summary: After Viktor’s supposed death, it wasn’t you who unearthed the truth—it was Jayce. He delivered the news, the air between you still charged with the remnants of last night’s heated argument. Despite your unwavering commitment as Viktor’s assistant, it was you who found him first, solidifying his discovery with a final decision. For Viktor to keep you all to himself.

**Arcane s2!Viktor**

P.S. English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for any spelling errors or small syntax mistakes. enjoy!

Viktor’s gaze lingered, unwavering, tracking your every movement. There was an intensity in his stare, not of malice but of captivation—a fascination he could neither name nor fully understand. To him, you were an enigma, a creature of such exquisite beauty it bordered on the unreal. How could someone so... human stand before him with such poise? Such life? The thought consumed him, each detail of your presence embedding itself in his mind. After all, he wasn’t called a miracle worker for nothing.

But you knew the truth, didn’t you? The whispers in Piltover Academy had already reached your ears. Rumors spread like wildfire, some so vile they left a bitter taste in your mouth. Stories of a horrific accident, of Viktor’s untimely death—tales steeped in tragedy and finality. You had believed them too, hadn’t you? Who wouldn’t, when all evidence pointed to his demise? Yet here he was, standing before you. Alive. Or something close to it.

“Красавица,” he murmured, the word soft but piercing. 

The sound of his voice made you flinch. It was Viktor’s voice—undeniably his. But it carried a weight it hadn’t before. Dull, melancholic, almost distant. Was it a compliment? Or something else entirely? You couldn’t tell, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know. His sudden boldness, the rawness of the word, left you reeling. 

Красавица.  

A beauty.  

The way he said it wasn’t casual or fleeting; it was deliberate, almost reverent. He didn’t shy away from the truth in his words, nor did he seem burdened by shame or hesitation. This was Viktor—a man unafraid to speak what he saw. And yet, there was something different about him now. Something fractured. His voice carried more than admiration; it carried guilt, an emotion he rarely wore so openly.  

Meeting you here, especially after the argument you’d had back in the lab, wasn’t easy for him. The memory of your heated exchange still lingered, unresolved and heavy. He hadn’t said what he truly felt then, hadn’t had the chance to admit how deeply he cared. How much he loved you. Even now, with you standing before him, the words felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of unspoken regret.

“Моя Красота,” he said again, softer this time. My beauty.

The phrase stirred something in you, though you refused to let it show. You tried to convince yourself this wasn’t real—that he wasn’t real. After what Jayce had told you, how could this Viktor be the same man you’d known? The same man who had once worked tirelessly beside you in the lab? The Viktor before you was both familiar and foreign, a perfect replica yet fundamentally different. 

Still, his presence was undeniable. His voice, the same one that had soothed you through countless sleepless nights at the lab, felt achingly familiar. Back then, you had cared for him, ensuring he ate, rested, and took care of himself amidst his relentless drive. Now, the roles were reversed. It was you who needed care.  

But could you accept it from him? Could you accept that this Viktor, no matter how real he seemed, was a shadow of the man you once knew?

[imaginespazzi]

Part 13: If You Stay

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 14 - Part 15

And I find it bittersweet (cause you gave me something to lose)

(In which, an all over the place writer, writes an all over the place chapter)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst with some Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 13.1K

TW: Swearing, Slightly Suggestive Content, Mentions of Divorce, Drinking

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 So clearly that 48 to 72 hours deadline completely evaded me but here I am! I've always gotten asks about how many chapters GH will be and normally it's an estimate but I can almost for certain say that after this one, there will be two more chapters. This part is, like I said, a little all over the place as I start to tie in loose ends and bring everything together but it's pretty important as we start our journey to the end. This isn't particularly well-edited because as well know I hate editing but I eventually will go back and edit so any typos/errors you see are much-appreciated. As always, your live reacts give me life, so let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely weekend my loves <3

May 2033

Paige wakes up alone to an empty bed. Her eyes open to the feel of her fingers reaching out and finding nothing but the soft material of her crinkled bedsheets. She stares at the empty space, gaze fixated on the way the sunlight hits the exact spot Azzi had been curled up in and lets her mind wander back to yesterday -god everything had been fine just 24 hours ago- when the rays of sunshine coming through the window had cast lines of gold across the brunette’s face. It wasn’t often that Paige woke up before Azzi, but for some reason she had yesterday. Maybe it was the universe’s way of giving her one last chance to memorize an image that she’s not sure when she’ll be able to see again. Paige traces her hands along the linen, blinking back tears, and she swears she can still feel the heat of Stephie and Azzi’s bodies radiating off of it. It’s unfair, she knows, to expect them to have stayed when it’s the one thing she herself can’t commit to doing but still, that awareness does little to dull the ache reverberating through her chest. 

Sighing to herself, Paige shifts onto her back, turning away from the empty space that almost feels taunting. She gives herself a minute, taking deep breaths to chase away the erraticness in her heartbeat and the moisture in her eyes before finally sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Her eyebrows knit together when she notices the bag in the corner -the pink duffel Azzi had packed for last night- and she almost gasps. It wasn’t like Azzi to forget her stuff, even when escaping. And then she hears it, the familiar giggles of a little girl echoing from her kitchen and Paige feels her heart break and fix itself at the same time. 

They’d stayed. 

Paige flings the covers off of herself, making it from the guest bedroom to the stairs in record time. She almost slips on the fifth step as she races down the stairs, every part of her alight with the need to just see Stephie and Azzi. Her feet skid to a halt before the kitchen doorway and her breath catches in her lungs, hand immediately clutching at her chest as she takes in the scene in front of her. It’s the three most important people in her life gathered around the kitchen counter. Azzi’s flipping pancakes, a soft grin on her face as she listens to Drew and Stephie -both of them already with a stack of pancakes on their respective plates- who are animatedly arguing about whether bananas or chocolate chips go better with pancakes. 

“Come on Uncle Drew,” Stephie drawls, “choc-chips are the best-est-est-est and ‘nanas are boooooring.”

“Bananas are not boring,” Drew counters, his voice filled with dramatic offense, “you can mash them in the pancake or eat them on the side or on top of the stack. Bananas are versatile.”

Stephie scrunches her nose and Paige smiles as the little girl gives her brother a pointed look, “I don’t know what vers-a-tile means so that doesn’t even matter to me.”

Azzi snorts, “I don’t think that’s how that works Stephie-bean.”

“Does too,” Stephie pouts and then juts her fork out at Drew, “here Uncle Drew, try it and you’ll see choc-chips are so much better than that,” she looks disdainfully at the young man’s plate. 

Drew dutifully accepts the bite of food, chewing it at an exaggeratedly slow pace as he pretends to contemplate how he feels about it. 

“I mean it’s not bad,” he says finally, before a smirk breaks out on his lips, “but banana’s clear.”

“Nah, I don’t know about that,” Paige says, finally making her presence known as she walks over to Stephie’s side, “You’re both wrong. Blueberries are better with pancakes than both bananas and chocolate chips,” she reaches out to ruffle Stephie’s hair, smile faltering when the little girl dodges her hand, “Steph-”

“Mama,” gone is the happy child that had been casually bantering with Drew; Stephie’s face is ashen with the remnants of her emotions from last night as she shifts herself as far away from Paige as possible, “I wanna go home.”

Her words feel like a needle, pricking against the bubble of delusion Paige had created mere seconds ago; the wishful thought that maybe they could ignore what had happened last night, that they could just close the lid on the jar of darkness they’d opened and pretend the obsidian hadn’t slipped out, clouding the paradise they’d built before. And maybe that’s Paige’s problem. Avoidance. She’d pushed herself towards Stephie and Azzi, acting like there wasn’t a harness -bound together with the ropes of all the grievances, all the fears, that the past had left in her- and now she was stuck. So close to reaching them but unable to finally get there. 

Azzi’s eyes flicker conflictedly between Paige’s ashen face and Stephie’s stormy one, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, “you’ve still got some more left on your plate Stephie-bean,”

“I don’t want the rest,” Stephie says adamantly, pushing the plate away from her, “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Stephie we don’t waste food,” Azzi says it like it’s a reprimand but Paige knows it’s for her sake, to give her more time with Stephie, and a mix of guilt and gratefulness pools in her stomach as she fights the urge to pull the younger woman into her arms and kiss away the stress lines that have formed on her forehead in the last 24 hours. 

“Then pack it and we can take it home,” Stephie slides off the counter, tiny arms crossing over her chest as she looks at her mother with pleading eyes, “please Mama, I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“Stephie-” Paige tries to say, reaching out once again for the little girl. 

“Excuse me Coach Bueckers,” Stephie sidesteps the older woman, her voice far colder than a little girl’s voice should be -far colder than anything she’s ever used with her Miss Buecks- and it feels like shards of ice prodding against Paige’s heart. 

“Stephie please-”

The little girl refuses to meet her gaze but Paige notices the way her eyes glance towards her for the briefest moment, like she wants nothing more than to turn around and fling herself at the older woman. But the look is gone as quick as it came and Stephie’s face hardens -and Paige hates herself for being the reason why- as she looks at her mother. 

“Please can we go home now Mama?” 

Azzi sighs, “yeah bean, we can go home. Unless-” she hesitates, eyes locking with Paige’s, “unless- maybe Miss Buecks has a reason we should stay?”

And Paige knows this is Azzi giving her one last chance, one last opportunity to say the right things, to keep Stephie and Azzi with her. It’s why she hadn’t left this morning; she’d been waiting to see if Paige was ready. And all Paige has to do is open her mouth and make the promises that she couldn’t last night; shut the door on her escape plan -to New York and the Liberty- and she can open the one that leads to her perfect dream, that leads to a forever with Stephie and Azzi. But that’s the thing; what if forever doesn’t last? After all, the last time she’d trusted in it -trusted the same woman in front of her to be hers always- forever had turned out to be a myth. Paige isn’t ready. And so she averts Azzi’s gaze, keeps her mouth shut and looks away before she can see the hope disappear from the brunette’s face. 

“Right,” Azzi swallows, “alright then uh -you’re right Stephie- we should- we should go home. You go wash your face and uh- Mama’s gonna go grab our stuff and then- then we can go.”

The last words make an indiscernible noise creak out of Paige’s lips as she watches Stephie make her way towards the bathroom. Azzi carefully flips the final pancake onto a plate -one with a stack of blueberry pancakes- before turning the stove off and beelining for the stairs towards the guest room. But Paige is quicker, curling her fingers around the younger woman’s wrist to keep her in place. 

“Az,” she breathes out, unsure what to say- unsure what she even wants to say.

Azzi doesn’t look at her, “I ordered groceries.”

“What?”

“You didn’t have any food and I- I wanted to make pancakes,” Azzi explains, “but uh- I got more than just pancake stuff. There’s eggs and milk and that stupid cereal that you like and just- just basic groceries you know. And I know you don’t like veggies but I had to get some because they’re good for you Paige okay but don’t- don’t worry- I balanced it out with all those ridiculously unhealthy snacks you like.”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice cracks, “you didn’t have to-”

“I did,” Azzi cuts her off, “you just- you can’t live off of fucking takeout okay,” a lone tear slides down her cheek, “and I got- I got enough groceries to last you two weeks but you- you’ll have to get more eventually if-” she stops herself but they both know where that sentence was going. 

If you’re gonna live here- if you’re gonna live by yourself. 

“I just-” Paige struggles to get the words out, “I need some more time.”

“I know,” Azzi finally looks at her and for a second Paige almost wishes she hadn’t because the hurt -the please just say you’ll stay- swimming in the younger woman’s eyes is almost too much to bear, “I know you need time and you- you can have it,” she brushes her thumb against Paige’s waterline, “but you can’t have both. You can’t have time and us.”

Why not, Paige wants to scream, wants to stomp her feet like a petulant toddler but she knows Azzi’s right, knows that they have to be apart until she figures it out. And so she nods at the brunette’s words as Azzi gently caresses her cheek -fingers lingering just a little longer than they should- before she rushes upstairs to grab her and Stephie’s overnight bag. 

Paige watches her go before she disappears out of sight, and the blonde falls back against the counter. Closing her eyes as she takes in a couple of deep breaths, she swears the air has never felt more acidic. And she he can feel Drew looking at her, can almost see the contemplative -maybe even concerned- look in his eyes without opening her own. 

“What?” she bites out, harsher than intended. 

“Nothing,” Drew hesitates, “I just- I didn’t think Azzi would have stayed last night.”

Paige shrugs, eyes still closed, “I asked her to.”

“I figured but I- I guess I didn’t expect her to agree,” Drew says quietly. 

There’s an undercurrent to her brother’s tone that has Paige finally opening her eyes, fixing him with a stern gaze, “what exactly are you trying to say Drew?”

“Nothing,” Drew repeats but the nervous shuffle of his feet say something entirely different. 

“Drew.”

“She stayed Paige,” his voice breaks unexpectedly, “last night, this morning, she- she stayed.”

There’s a beat of silence as Paige stares at her brothers, absorbing his words when the unexpected flash of anger hits, “seriously?”

“What?” Drew’s taken aback by the fire in his sister's eyes. 

“What do you mean what? One fucking stack of pancakes and suddenly all that shit you said to me last night- you don’t believe it anymore? All of that’s forgotten now?”

“That’s not-”

“Jesus fucking christ Drew,” Paige pinches the bridge of her nose and she’s fully aware her anger is misdirected -that it’s herself, she’s mad at- but she continues ranting at her brother anyways, “you made me overthink everything Drew. I was doing fine, we were doing fine and then- then you said all of that shit last night, reminded me of everything and now here we are the next morning and what? You’re not mad at Azzi anymore? She stays one fucking night and all is forgiven? You’ve changed your whole fucking mind-”

“You can’t blame me-” Drew begins to cut her off loudly but then there’s another voice -soft and small- interrupting both of them. They turn to see Stephie staring at them, her expression almost fearful at the sound of them arguing. And Paige hates herself a little bit for putting all these new expressions on the little girl’s face; she misses when she used to be the reason for her smile. 

“That’s- that’s two bad words Miss-” Stephie stops herself, swallowing away the familiar name, “I mean- Coach Bueckers.”

“Sorry Stephie,” Paige whispers, pausing slightly before she takes a nervous step towards the girl, “so does that- does that mean I owe you two kisses?”

Stephie’s face wobbles, her bottom lip trembling as she nods slowly, “yeah you do.”

Paige breathes shakily as she kneels down in front of the little girl, eyes drinking in the sight of having her this close -like they know they might not get this moment again- as she slowly pulls her into her arms. Stephie is warm and soft and familiar and Paige wishes she would never have to let the little girl go. She squeezes her to her chest as she delicately places her lips against Stephies left cheek. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” she whispers against the little girl’s soft skin, hoping the child knows it isn’t just for the swearing before she presses another fluttering kiss against Stephie’s right cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

And then, just as Stephie’s about to pull out of her grasp, Paige stops her, pressing her lips to the little girl’s forehead. When she pulls back, Stephie’s staring at her with a confused look on her face. 

“You only owed me two,” she says matter-of-factly, “what was the last one for?”

Paige gives the little girl a sad smile as she brushes away a strand of curly hair that had gotten loose from her ponytail, “just because you’re my Stephie-bean.”

Stephie stares at her and Paige can see a myriad of emotions flicker behind her tiny eyes. She opens her mouth, like she’s about to say something and Paige’s heart thumps in anticipation, but then the sound of Azzi’s footsteps coming down echoes from the stairs and Stephie pushes away from her. And suddenly, Paige feels empty, like the most vital parts of her are missing. 

“You ready to go Stephie-bean?” Azzi asks, mustering on a brave voice for her daughter but Paige can hear the way it’s cracking, can tell from her red-rimmed eyes that she’d taken a little longer than necessary upstairs to fix herself. 

“Yeah Mama,” Stephie takes her mother’s outstretched hand, “let’s go home.”

The walk through the foyer and outside towards Azzi car feels like it takes hours. Drew doesn’t come all the way, stopping at the front door and giving Stephie a quick high-five that draws a brief smile from the little girl. He doesn’t say anything to Azzi but there’s an underlying softness in the way he tips his head towards her as they nod at each other. And then it’s just the three of them and Paige swears they’re all walking just a little bit slower than they normally do, like they’re trying to savor this moment just a little longer and prolong the inevitable. 

She leans against the side of the car as Azzi buckles Stephie into her carseat. The little girl keeps on her brave face, avoiding eye contact with both Paige and her mother as she focuses firmly in front of her. When Azzi closes the backdoor, Stephie’s face disappearing behind the tinted windows, Paige wants to scream. Everything in her feels like it’s burning and freezing at the same time. 

Azzi hesitates as she’s about to get into the driver’s seat, biting her lip as she turns back towards Paige. 

“You should know that I - that Stephie and I- we-” she pauses, like she’s scared to say the rest of it, “we want you- we want you forever Paige,” both of them suck in a deep breath as the confession looms in the air above them, “and I know you need time and you should take it,” Azzi says softly, her hand reaching almost halfway to caress Paige’s cheek before falling forlornly back to her sides, “but we can’t- we won’t wait forever.”

*** 

August 2031 

Paige is normally a big fan of All-Star weekend; she relishes the chaos of the weekend, getting the opportunity to connect with her fellow peers in a way that wasn’t possible during the rest of the season and just didn’t quite happen at this level outside of it.  But she’s definitely not a fan of it this year, considering it’s being held in her team’s city, in Dallas. Six years later and still, something about this city doesn’t quite feel right, doesn’t feel quite like a place she can call home. 

But still, at least it had given her the chance to not have to be in her apartment this weekend. Unlike her teammates who were more than comfortable staying in their respective homes, Paige had taken up the WNBA’s offer to stay where the rest of the non-Wings players were staying. It’s ironic that the sterile walls of an unfamiliar hotel somehow feel more comforting than a home that’s supposed to be hers. Except, the apartment -the one she’d moved into after the divorce after giving Oliva their house in an act of goodwill- feels cold and empty and Paige has done little to rectify it. She pretends it’s because she’s too busy, that she’ll get to hanging up the picture frames and decorating the walls eventually. But there’s a part of her that knows she’s likely just stalling the inevitable, that the apartment is as temporary as it gets until she finally lets herself make the decision to to leave Dallas. 

The quiet ding of the elevator opening has Paige sighing as she shakes her mind of that daunting thought. It’s why she’d rushed out of her room in the first place, not wanting to be trapped with herself for longer than necessary. The silence has become her worst enemy, enhancing the loneliness that she’s felt ever since the divorce- maybe even longer. 

Divorce. 

God she hates that word, has hated it since her parents had sat her down and said they were getting one. She’d always told herself she wouldn’t become another divorce statistic like them but clearly history liked repeating itself. And the worst part of it, Paige thinks, is that she doesn’t regret the divorce -thinks it might be one of the only right decisions she’s made in the last six years- but maybe she regrets that marriage, regrets selling Olivia a dream, she’d subconsciously always known she wouldn’t be able to fulfill. 

Thinking of Olivia makes Paige feel awful. She hadn’t done anything outrightly wrong to the other woman, never raised her voice or said anything untoward and she’d definitely never cheated. Well, not physically at least. But she’d gotten married to the reporter for all the wrong reasons, trying to fit a puzzle piece that had all the wrong edges into the jigsaw of her life even though she’d known the empty space in her heart could only be filled by one person. For her part, Olivia had been just as good at pretending as Paige was, acting like she couldn’t see the cracks in their relationship or the water that was seeping in through them. 

And then something shifted -maybe the water had finally gone over their head- and just like she’d been the one to bring up the idea of getting married, Olivia was the one who had filed for divorce. And Paige thinks maybe the worst thing she ever did to Olivia, is the way she didn’t fight it once. She remembers the hesitation in her ex-wife’s eyes, remembers the slight pleading look on her face as if she wanted Paige to at least resist it a little bit. But she hadn’t; she’d simply nodded and signed. That was the end of the Olivia, Paige knew and from then on the sweet, bubbly, slightly over-enthusiastic reporter who’d stumbled over her question at Paige’s first media availability transformed into a cold ex-wife who could keep up a charade of cordiality for appearances, but never refrained from a cutting jab here and there. 

The elevator dings open and Paige steps into the lobby, straightening her hoodie a little bit as she scans the area for familiar faces. Finding no one she’s particularly interested in talking to, she’d just about to head to the bar when her eyes land on a little girl nervously bouncing on her feet next to a vase of flowers that’s almost double her height. She can’t be older than three years old and Paige can tell from the way her bottom lip is trembling, that the young child is doing her absolute best to hold in tears. Something constricts in her heart -something almost more than just empathy for the little girl- as Paige makes her way over. 

Gently, trying not to scare the girl, Paige kneels in front of her, “hey sweetheart.”

When the little girl turns to look at her, familiar dark brown doey eyes filled with unshed tears, her breath hitches in her throat and Paige suddenly realizes why she’d felt that tug in her heart. This is Azzi’s kid. 

“H-hi,” the little girl manages to splutter, playing with her fingers as she regards Paige with a way expression, clearly trying to discern whether she’s safe or not. 

“Hey,” Paige repeats, smiling reassuringly, “you okay?”

The little girl nods slowly but there must something about the warmth in Paige’s smile that she pauses, rebellious teardrops running down her face as she goes from nodding to shaking her head. 

“I-I-I-I- lost,” she wails. 

“Oh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige tries to say, hands instinctively reaching out to run up and down the little girl’s shoulders. 

“I was- I was ‘posed to be with Aunty J but she- she was talking and I saw pu-ple flow-es,” she points to the vase through her tears, “so I came to see but then- but then- I look back and Aunty J no there anymore and I want- I want my Mama,” she heaves, fully sobbing now, “I want my Mama.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, shhh,” Paige comforts the little girl as she stands back up, lacing her own fingers through her tinier ones, “how about we go and try to find your Mama?”

She’s about to turn around when feels a tug on her hand and when she looks down, the young child is shaking her head, adamantly planting her feet firmly on the floor. 

“We can’t go,” she says firmly, “Mama says if I get lost, I stay where I am and Mama will find me. And-,” she hesitates as she looks Paige up and down, “Mama says I don’t go anywhere with a st-anger.”

It shouldn’t sting -because that’s what Paige is, a stranger- but it’s an unsettling reminder that this is a world like nothing she’d ever imagined when she was younger, a world where Azzi’s daughter doesn’t know her. 

“So we can’t go. We have to stay here and Mama will find me,” the little girl says again and despite the tears still swimming in her eyes, there’s complete confidence -trust- in her voice that her mother -that Azzi- will find her. 

“Okay,” Paige agrees softly, “but is it okay if I wait with you?”

Azzi’s daughter looks at her with a contemplative look for a couple of seconds before a bright grin explodes on her face and Paige thinks it feels a little bit like a ray of sunshine bombarding into her otherwise cloudy world. 

“Okay,” the little girl grins happily before holding out a tiny hand, “I’m Stephanie Katarina Fudd.”

Paige laughs at the formality as she shakes Stephanie’s hand, “I’m Paige Madison Bueckers.”

“Nice to meet you Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chirps as smiles up at the woman. 

“It’s Bueckers,” Paige tries to correct as Stephanie scrunches up her nose. 

“That’s what I said,” she says with a confused look on her face, “Miss Buecks.”

Paige opens her mouth to try and correct her again but stops, deciding she’s not about to argue with the little girl and that she quite likes the incorrect way Stephanie says her name.  Instead she lets herself fall to the ground, leaning against the pillar as she stretches out her legs in front of her. Stephanie raises an eyebrow at the actions but eventually sits down next to her and Paige smiles. They sit in silence for a bit as Paige reaches for her phone, considering texting Azzi for a brief second before she eventually decides to text Jana -who she thinks might just be Stephanie’s Aunty J- instead to let Azzi know Stephanie was with her. 

“I know you,” Stephanie says suddenly and Paige looks away from the phone to see the little girl’s eyes wide with recognition. 

“I thought you said I was a stranger,” Paige cocks a teasing eyebrow. 

“You are,” Stephanie says matter-of-factly, “but I seen you at Mama’s game sometimes.”

“I’ve seen you too,” Paige admits. 

“You’re good at bask-ball,” Stephanie states and the thing is, Paige has heard and read so many people say she’s great at basketball but there’s something about the way Stephanie says it -something about the genuine innocence of it- that makes her beam with pride. 

“I guess I am,” she bumps Stephanie’s shoulder as she winks at her. 

“I love bask-ball,” Stephaniee’s eyes gleam as she says it and Paige knows that expression -knows that slight look of madness that’s just the beginning of falling in love with a sport. 

“Yeah?” she asks casually, “you play ball?”

Stephanie nods enthusiastically, “Mama got me a hoop for Ch-istmas -just like the one she had when she littler- and she p-omised that when I’m bigger, she’s gonna lemme go bask-ball camp.”

It’s hard not to grin along with Stephanie’s ranting, especially not when her determination to play basketball -one that reminds Paige a lot of herself- shines through her words. 

“You any good,” Paige teases, biting back a laugh when the little girl’s face contorts in offense, like she can’t even believe someone would have the audacity to question her basketball skills. 

“Of course I am. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter,” Stephanie says proudly, blissfully unaware of the way Paige's smile wobbles for a second at the statement, “but Mama says one day, I’mma be even gooder than her.”

“Can I get your autograph now then?” 

Stephanie scrunches her nose, “what’s an au-to-gra-ph?”

“Wait,” Paige stands up, on a mission to find a pen, but Stephanie immediately grabs her hand. 

The little girl’s eyes are wide with anxiety as she looks up at Paige, “no Miss Buecks don’t leave me.”

“Oh sweetheart I’m not,” Paige crouches back down in front of Stephanie, thumbs reaching out to rub the little girl’s cheeks in reassurance, “I’m gonna go right there to get something,” she points to the the reception desk, “I’ll be back in one minutes. I swear.”

“Pinky p-omise?” Stephanie raises her pinky and Paige diligently intertwines her own around it. 

“Pinky promise,” she says, before practically skipping over to where she’d spotted a cup-holder full of pens. She can feel Stephanie’s anxious eyes piercing into the back of her head and if possible, the smile she’s had on her face since meeting the little girl, somehow deepens. It’s dangerous, she knows, becoming so enamored with Azzi’s daughter but her heart has always moved faster than her head, and Paige still hasn’t quite figured out how to stop that. 

“You’re back,” Stephanie claps happily when Paige comes back to her and the blonde beams at the affection in her voice. 

“Told you I would be,” Paige grins as she plops back down next to the little girl, holding out the pen she’d found. 

“Why you get pen?” Stephanie asks, staring at it like it’s a foreign object. 

“Because you need a pen to give me your autograph,” Paige explains, “an autograph is when someone famous signs their name on something for someone,” she holds out her arm that is currently covered by a grey hoodie, “will you sign my hoodie?”

“Silly Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chides, “You and Mama are famous. I’m not famous.”

“Not yet. But if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, Stephanie Katarina Fudd, you are gonna be so famous. Just like me and your Mama,” Paige taps the little girl’s nose, releasing the giggle it elicits from her and she thinks it might be her new favorite sound, “and I wanna be the first person who gets your autograph.”

“Can I get yours too?” Stephanie asks, her tone a little shy and Paige thinks that forget an autograph, she’d give her the world if she’d asked for it. 

“Of course you can bean,” the nickname slips out before she can catch it and Paige’s mind travels back to her wedding day, back to the phone-call with Azzi. 

“Mama calls me bean too,” Stephanie says, as she begins to messily try and write her name on the sleeve of Paige’s hoodie, “she calls me Stephie-bean.”

As if on cue, Azzi’s voice fills the air, tinged with a slight bit of panic and Paige feels her heart catch in her throat. Six years they’ve been apart, something always thrums in her every time she feels Azzi’s presence near her. But it feels almost electric this time. The memories of the last time they’d seen each other, the night they’d spent together after this year’s National Championship game linger in the air and Paige shivers like she can still feels the softness of Azzi’s skin underneath her fingertips; can still hear the breathlessness of her moans in her hears. 

“Stephie-bean,” Azzi calls out and Stephanie’s eyes dart towards her mother’s voice as she immediately stands up, little feet tripping over each other as she rushes to get to the younger woman. 

“MAMA,” Stephanie yells, flinging herself into her mother’s arms and Paige watches as Azzi cradles the little girl to her chest, kissing all over her face. Something pangs in her chest, and she wishes she were a part of that embrace too. And if all the dreams they’d dreamt together when they were younger had come true, she would’ve been.

“Stephie what have I said about running off,” Azzi scolds as she coaxes the little girl's face out of her neck. 

“I din-t run off,” Stephanie defends petulantly, “I go to look at pu-ple flow-es cause they looked so pretty but then when I turned around, Aunty J gone,’ her face wobbles at the memory, “I was so scay-ed Mama cause I lost and ‘lone but then,” her voice changes immediately as she turns around to point at Paige, who freezes when Azzi’s gaze lands on her, “Miss Buecks find me!”

“Miss Buecks,” Azzi repeats dazedly as Stephanie begins to pull her towards Paige, unaware of the anxious tension between the two adults. 

“This is Miss Buecks,” Stephahnie introduces the two of them, “she find me and she tol’ me she help me find you but I say that Stephie can’t move cause Stephie have to stay right here cause Mama says if Stephie lost, Stephie don’t move,” the little girl says animatedly and both adults laugh at the random switch to third-person, “but Miss Buckes say she’ll stay with me and so I not ‘care anymore cause I have Miss Buecks,” she says casually, naive to the way it makes both Paige and Azzi swallows, “and look Mama,” she eagerly grabs Paige’s sleeve, “I give Miss Buecks my auto-gaph.”

“That’s, that’s lovely sweetheart,” Azzi says softly before she turns to Paige -and Paige wonders if it’ll ever stop, if the way her stomach swoons every time the brunette looks at her will ever go away-, “thank you for texting Jana and thank you- thank you for staying with her.”

Paige shrugs as casually as she can, “don’t gotta thank me,” she nudges Stephanie, “we had a great time together didn’t we Stephanie?” 

The little girl nods enthusiastically, “the great-est-est-est time,” she exclaims to her mother, “Miss Buecks is so cool.”

“Thanks Stephie-” Paige hesitates, unsure if she has the right to use the nickname, “Stephanie. You’re really cool too.”

Stephanie practically glows at the compliment, “Mama, Miss Buecks thinks I’m cool and- and- and- she say that I’m gonna be famous one day. That’s why she wanted my auto-gaph. Cause I’mma be a big bask-ball star just like you two.”

Azzi ruffles the little girl’s hair before looking at Paige with an indiscernible expression, “just like us huh?”

“Maybe even better,” Paige says softly. 

“I guess we’ll find out,” Azzi grins before leaning down to pick her daughter up -the sight of it invoking something warm and fuzzy in Paige’s stomach- “alright Stephie-bean, say bye to Miss Buecks. We gotta go get ready the orange carpet and I gotta go yell at your Aunty J for losing you again,” she winks at Paige who lets out a laugh. 

And she hasn’t laughed like this -laughed as much as she has in these last few minutes with Stephanie- in so long that she’d almost forgotten what it sounded like. 

“Bye Miss Buecks,” Stephanie waves over her mother’s shoulder. 

“Bye Stephanie,” Paige waves before hesitating for a second, and then she calls out, “hey Azzi?”

Azzi turns around slightly, humming in response, “what’s up?”

“I like that you call her Stephie-bean,” Paige admits nervously, hoping Azzi will understand what she means and by the way the brunette’s eyes soften, it’s clear she does. 

“It just felt right,” Azzi says softly; her mouth opens like she wants to say more -something more than what their current colleague-esque relationship allows for- but in the end, she settles on something far more mundane, “see you around Bueckers.”

“See ya,” Paige whispers back and if she stands completely still, watching Stephanie and Azzi walking all the way until they turn a corner and she can’t see them anymore, well that’s nobody’s business but her own. 

That’s the first night Paige lets herself wonder about the possibilities of becoming a Golden State Valkyrie. 

***

June 2033 

Dream 64      Valkyries 87

Paige has never had particularly strong feelings towards the Atlanta Dream. They weren’t a particularly bad team, nor were they a particularly great team and Paige had simply never had an experience with them -whether it was a fan of the league or as a player in it- that was worth remembering for her to feel anything towards them. But tonight, tonight Paige fucking hates the Atlanta Dream. 

Okay maybe she doesn’t hate the team. 

She hates a certain player, a certain #11 wearing French player who’d had the audacity to hold her Stephie, to wrap her arms around her Azzi. Paige had spent the first couple of minutes of warm-ups with a deep scowl on her face as she’d watched Clémence interact with her girls. She’d hated the way Stephie grinned at the French woman, hated the way Azzi had laughed at something she’d said. But most of all Paige hated that she hadn’t been able to do any of that -hadn’t been on the receiving end of Stephie’s giggles or Azzi’s warm smile- for almost three weeks now. God she missed them so fucking much. 

It was until Jana had tapped her on the back -a knowing look in her teammate’s eyes- that Paige had finally turned away from the scene. She’d channeled all her anger and frustration into the game, playing as the most aggressive version of herself. And it had paid off in the form of a 31 points, 7 assists, 4 rebounds and 3 stocks game, another statline cementing her position in the rather early race for MVP. But all of that feels futile now as Paige -signing autographs before she had to head off to media- notices Stephie go racing back into Clémence’s arms, the little girl’s face bright with happiness as the French woman catches her and twirls her around. From the corner of her eyes, she notices Azzi walking towards the two of them and Paige normally loves Azzi’s smile -think’s it’s nothing short of being the prettiest sight in the world- but she thinks she might hate it a little bit right now when it’s directed at Clémence. 

“Aunty Chérie,” Stephie’s squeals echo clearly in Paige’s ears, despite the noise of the crowd surround her, “you played so good today.”

“Merci ma chérie,” Clémence's voice is saccharine sweet, “I’m very happy to see you. I have missed you lots. I was thinking,” Paige continues to sign another jersey but her ears are fully tuned into the conversation happening a couple meters away as Clémence’s attention turns towards Azzi, “we are leaving tomorrow morning so I have some time tonight. So I was thinking maybe I could take you and Stephie out to dinner tonight? Unless-” Paige feels both Clemence’s and Azzi’s eyes flicker to herself and she tries to keep her focus on the fans in front of her, “unless perhaps you are going with someone else?”

Paige waits with bated breath for Azzi’s answer, wishing her telepathic plea for the brunette say no, could somehow reach her but it’s Stephie who answers first. 

“Mama please can we go,” the little girl begs immediately -her tone one that Paige knows to be the one she uses when she’s trying to get her mother to agree, “please, please, please. We haven’t gotten dinner with Aunty Chérie in so long.”

“Stephie-” there’s hesitation in Azzi’s voice but Paige knows that she’s likely to cave into her daughter’s wishes -after all Stephie isn’t asking for anything ridiculous- and she knows she has to get away, not wanting to hear anymore about Clémence’s stupid fucking dinner plans. 

Giving the fans in front of her a tight-lipped smile, Paige slowly backs away from them, eyes searching for Joyce -her companion to face the press tonight- as she heads towards the media-room. She’s so focused on looking for her teammate or perhaps she’s too in her head but she doesn’t spot the assistant carrying water bottles coming. The two of them collide with a large crash that rings around Chase Center as the bottles go flying across the court. Paige’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink as she feels the eyes of everyone on her -none more piercing than Azzi’s- but she doesn’t dare turn around. Instead she shoots the assistant an apologetic look, gathering as many water bottles as in front of her, before she’s bolting to the press room, wondering what the fuck she's done for the universe to keep testing her like this.

*** 

Paige is the last person left in the locker room. By the time she and Joyce had returned from the press conference, most of the team had fizzled out. And so she’d taken her time -ignoring the weird look Joyce gave her considering normally they were all eager to get home- showering and getting changed. She’d come out of the shower to a desolate locker room and as she’d sat on the bench, drying her damp hair, she’d let herself succumb to all the thoughts she’d been suppressing. 

It’s somehow worse this time; it hurts more in a way that Paige hadn’t known was possible. They hadn’t been together nearly as long as they were back then and their relationship was barely defined. But at least last time, Paige had been able to run to another side of the country where she wasn’t constantly reminded of her ex. Azzi isn’t even technically an ex this time, but there’s no avoiding her. Not when they’re on the same team, not when she’s a coach at her daughter’s camp.  And Paige doesn’t quite know what’s harder, trying to find oxygen in an air devoid of Azzi and Stephie’s presence, or trying to breathe when they’re near her.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so different. Paige has lost Azzi before and even if that doesn’t make the hurt any less, at least she has a blueprint for how to cope with it. But she doesn’t know how to deal with losing Stephie, doesn’t know how to not miss the little girl’s smile and her big doey eyes and the way she’d used to wrap her arms around Paige like she was trying to bind them together forever. 

But more than anything, more than missing Azzi or Stephie, Paige misses the three of them together. She misses Azzi’s exasperated look when she and Stephie would indulge in some sort of ridiculous drama. She misses the little girl’s mischievous look before she’d launch herself into both of their arms. She misses her own soft smile as she’d watch the two of them engage in the most mundane things. She misses the peaceful silence as they’d eat together and the noisy chaos when they’d argue over what movie to watch afterwards. She misses everything. 

And the worst part is that she knows she wouldn’t be missing any of it, if it wasn’t for the barriers she’s put up herself. This is a cage of Paige’s own making and the key to open the lock rests in her own hands. She just needs to be brave enough to use it. Azzi words run amok in her head, the reassurance that Paige could have time clouded by the reluctant warning that eventually that time would run out. 

“Hey,” she snaps herself out of her thoughts to see Azzi cautiously entering the locker room, her playing jersey swapped from a casual green top and cargo pants. 

Paige swallows, “hi.”

“I uh- I was um-” Azzi’s eyes nervously dart around the room as she strides over to her locker, picking up the pink lipgloss -one Paige has the taste of memorized- that’s sitting on the bench under it, “I forgot this so I uh- I came back to grab it.”

“Cool,” Paige replies monotonously but her head’s already racing with thoughts of will you let her kiss it off of you the way you let me? And she knows -she trusts- that Azzi won’t but even the possibility of it lights a small fire within her. 

Azzi chews on her lips as she nods, before starting to walk towards the door but she stops last second, turning around with the starts of a smile on her lips, “you were amazing tonight P. I mean you have been since the season started but tonight especially, you were just- you were you. You were awesome.”

Paige absorbs the compliments, tries to use it to douse the simmering jealousy that’s flaming up within her at the knowledge that once Azzi leaves this locker room, she’s likely going with Clémence. 

“Thanks,” the blonde manages to get out and it’s a little short and rather icy but Paige thinks it’s probably better than saying all the other things that are on the tip of her tongue. 

Azzi’s face dims at the curt reply, smile faltering as she nods, “anytime, P.”

That should be it. Paige should let her go, should be content with this small interaction that’s the most she’s gotten from outside of practice in weeks. But then the bitter words are waterfalling from her lips faster than she can stop them and despite the regret she feels immediately after, there’s a part of her that’s relieved when it makes Azzi come to a halt right in front of the door. 

“Your girl played well too,” she bites out, the acidic words burning her tongue. 

Azzi doesn’t turn around but Paige notices the way her shoulders go rigid, “don’t do this Paige. You know she’s not my girl.”

Paige ignores her, “11 points, 2 rebounds, 1 assist. Not bad numbers. Decent. But not better than yours of course.”

“Paige,” there's a warning note in Azzi’s voice, like she knows exactly where Paige is going with this.

“I’m just saying, “ Paige shrugs with a casualness that’s in stark contrast to the tension lingering in the air, “she’s a decent player. But you’d never be in her shadow. Never be known as just her anything.”

Azzi turns around slowly and Paige feels her anger dissipate as quickly as it had erupted when she takes in the way the brunette’s eyes are brimming with tears. 

“Seriously?” Azzi grits out, “you’re seriously gonna throw that in my face right now?”

“I’m not throwing anything in your face. I’m stating a fact-”

“Oh bullshit-”

“It’s not bullshit,” Paige yells before she sucks in a sharp breath, closing her eyes to calm herself down before she continues, “it’s not bullshit,” she repeats, “it is a fact and that fact is the reason why we’re here right now.”

“What do you mean?” Azzi crosses her arms across her body. 

“Nine years ago you said no-”

“Oh my god,” Azzi says exasperatedly, “we can’t keep going over this again.”

“We have to Azzi,” Paige cuts her off, “we have to because you said no. And you broke my heart and you broke my trust. And that’s why we’re here right now. That’s why I made the deal with the Liberty and that’s why I can’t let of my escape plan and that’s why I can’t promise to stay and that’s why we have to keep going over it. Because I’m trying, “her voice cracks as the first tear slides down, “god Azzi- I’m trying so fucking hard baby but how do I know you won’t say no me -to us- again?”

Azzi stares at her with an undecipherable expression, her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides. It feels like an eternity passes in between them as they look at each other, breathing heavily almost in sync, until the brunette finally speaks. 

“Well how do I know you won’t leave again?”

Paige blinks in confusion, “excuse me?”

“You keep accusing me of all of these things Paige but you’re the one that keeps leaving,” Azzi says and they both know she isn’t just talking about nine years ago, “I know- I know I made a mistake. But when I said no all I asked for was a little bit of time. That’s all I asked for Paige. Time. Just like you’re asking for right now. And I know- I know we said a whole lot of shit that night -I said a bunch of fucking things I shouldn’t have- but- god Paige you didn’t even give it a day. I came to find you less than 24 hours later and you were gone,” she chokes on the last word and Paige wants nothing more than to cradle the younger woman in her arms, take away her pain and shield her from ever feeling anything like it again. 

“Az-”

“And if you’d just waited -just given me a little bit of time,” Azzi continues as if she hadn’t even heard the blonde attempt to speak, “then maybe you would have known that I wasn’t saying no forever. Just for a little bit, just for then. But you just- you left.”

“You said a lot more than just no,” Paige says frustratedly. 

It’s Azzi’s turn to look guilty and Paige can almost see the memories of that night flashing in her mind, “I know that but I would’ve taken it all back if you’d just waited.”

“How could I have known that?” Paige whispers and she’s not sure if she’s defending herself from Azzi or from that voice in her head -the one she’d done her best to silence- that’s always wondered if she’d made a mistake immediately leaving for Dallas the morning after. 

“You couldn’t have,” Azzi says softly, sounding almost defeated, “the same way that you don’t know that I won’t say no again. The same way that I don’t know if you’ll leave again,” she sighs as she sits down next to Paige, “but that’s life Paige. We don’t know what’s gonna happen in the future and we can’t- we can’t predict what someone else will do. All we can do is try and trust ourselves and trust each other.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Paige nudges her shoulder and Azzi lets out a short laugh. 

“I know it’s not. Trust me, I know it’s hard. There’s about five hundred different voices in my head saying that I should stop waiting or whatever it is I’m doing right now. That I should let you go for good. That even if you end this whole Liberty bullshit, you’ll still leave me -leave us- eventually.”

“But?” Paige presses and she feels like she’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, like the next words out of Azzi’s mouth will determine whether she falls or flies. 

“But,” Azzi breathes out as she turns to look at Paige with a slightly wistful smile, “there’s this one voice in my head, clearer than all the rest that says I should trust you -that I should believe in us- that maybe we just need to get through this one last hurdle to get back to each other,” the younger woman reaches out to squeeze Paige’s hand gently before she stands up, “I think you just need to find that voice too P.”

“I’m scared Az,” Paige says softly. 

“I am too,” Azzi admits as she leans down to brush the blonde’s tears away with her thumb, “trusting is really fucking scary. I get it. but maybe- maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together.”

Paige shudders when Azzi presses a kiss to her forehead, the brunette's lips lingering long after she’s embedded every unspoken thought into it. She pulls away almost reluctantly, patting Paige’s cheeks lightly before starting to walk back towards the door. 

“Azzi,” the blonde calls out, mouth going a little drying when Azzi turns over her shoulder, “don’t go to dinner with Clémence.” 

Go with me. Let me take you and Stephie out to dinner instead. 

“Don’t hold on to the deal with the Liberty,” Azzi says quietly in lieu of an actual answer, “say you’ll stay.”

Paige falters, “Az I-”

“I already told you P,” there’s a sad smile on Azzi’s face before she turns away, “you can have time or you can have us but you can’t have both. Not right now. 

“Azzi-”

“I hope you find that voice soon Paige and I hope it leads you back to me.”

***

August 2032 

Paige is standing in a corner -a dirty Shirley in her hand- cackling at a joke that Cam had just made when she sees her entering and the laughter dies in her throat. Cam notices the change immediately, her eyes tracking Paige’s gaze until they land on the brunette who’s being pulled into a series of congratulatory hugs by players from other countries. 

“So where did y’all go last night?” the LA Sparks center asks casually 

“What?” Paige asks distractedly, her eyes narrowing when she notices a familiar French player inching towards the door for a hug of her own. 

“You and Azzi,” Cam clarifies and Paige swallows at the mention of her name, “y’all disappeared while we were all still celebrating. Lowkey felt like we were back in Belarus all over again when y’all just kept going off somewhere with each other,” the taller woman shoots Paige a teasing grin, “so where’d you go?”

“Just uh- just needed some air,” Paige bites her lip at the lie. 

Because the truth is that once they’d left the hotel bar, and they’d practically pounced on each other -from the elevator till they’d made it to Paige’s hotel room- they’d barely come up for air. The feeling of each other’s lips and bare skin was more intoxicating than any drink they’d consumed -maybe even more intoxicating than the Olympic Gold medal they’d finally won together earlier that day- and neither of them seemed to care about unimportant matters such as breathing. 

Cam quirks an eyebrow as she sips at her drink, “if you say so Bueckers.”

“I do say so,” Paige retorts before dislodging herself from the wall she’d been leaning against, eyes still tracking every moment Azzi made, “we should- we should go say hi.”

“We should, should we?” Cam smirks but the sweet angel she is, she falls into step easily with Paige as they start walking across the room. 

The banquet hall is buzzing with players dancing and drinking and mingling with each other. Now that the basketball portion of the Olympics was over, they’d all returned from being fierce competitors playing for their country, to being the friendly co-players they all were. Laughter and chatter fills the air as teammates and rivals alike, reconnect at the FIBA-sponsored party that had almost all of the women’s basketball players participating in Bris2032 in attendance. 

“Azziiii,” Cam squeals as the two of them finally reach the Valkyries superstar who’d just finished hugging Gabby. 

Azzi grins when she sees Cam but it slips a little when she notices Paige next to her. She’s quick to fix it, eyes going back to Cam as she pulls the taller woman into a hug. Something pinches against Paige’s heart and she forces herself to look away; her gaze landing instead on where Gabby has walked away from the three of them to slip an arm around Marine’s waist. Paige stares wistfully at the scene -at the way Marine relaxes into Gabby’s touch as she continues whatever conversation she’d been involved in. It’s all she wants and instinctively, her eyes wander back to Azzi. 

“Hey,” Paige says slowly as Azzi lets go of Cam, disappointment coursing through her veins when all she gets is a nod of acknowledgement.

“So Azzi I was just asking Paige here, where y’all disappeared to last night?” Cam asks with a teasing tone. 

Azzi blanches as the question, “oh um- I- uh I wanted to go check in on Stephie.”

“And you needed Paige to come with you for that?” 

A distinctly pink hue begins at the base of Azzi’s neck, climbing up until it tints her cheeks, “I was a little tipsy and uh- just wanted the support I guess.”

Paige almost snorts at the response. Azzi had been way beyond tipsy and Paige wouldn’t have been any support, considering she’d been maybe two drinks away from blacking out. But she supposes, Cam probably doesn’t need to know that and she definitely doesn’t need to know what it had led to. 

“Interesting,” the taller blonde looks between the two women as she takes another sip of her drink, “Paige just said y’all needed some air.”

“I mean that- that was definitely a part of it too. The bar was getting pretty hot-” this time Paige does snort at Azzi’s answer which gets her an amused look from Cam and a very unamused look from the brunette herself. 

Cam puts her hands up in surrender, “listen if Paige says y’all needed air and if you say you needed to go see Stephie, I believe you,” she says but that cheeky grin on her face says the exact opposite. 

“Speaking of Stephie. It’s uh- it’s almost her bedtime and I should uh- I should call my Mom so I can say goodnight,” Azzi manages a tightlipped smile towards the two other women before she disappears into the crowd, heading towards the balcony. 

Paige hesitates for a second before she turns to face Cam and that shit-eating, knowing smirk on her friend’s face almost has her giving into her pride and swallowing the words she’s about to say. Almost. 

“I’m uh- I’mma go to,” she stumbles out. 

“Oh of course,” Cam grins sly, “bet Azzi needs some more support huh?”

Paige shakes her head, flashing Cam her middle finger -and rolling her eyes when it causes the taller woman to laugh- as she follows after Azzi. The chill Brisbane air swarms around her as she steps out into the balcony. Azzi’s standing right by the railing, her phone held right above her as she facetimes her daughter. Paige catches on quickly to the conversation, realizing that the little girl is telling her mother about how Tim had let her have ice-cream after dinner. 

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” Paige hears Tim’s voice echo through the phone as Stephanie’s eyes go wide on the screen, “I thought it was gonna be our little secret?”

She holds in a laugh, leaning back against the door, as the little girl splutters trying to justify her tattle-taling, “it’s Mama, Pops. I can’t hide things from my Mama.”

Tim scoffs but there’s no genuine irritation to it, “that’s the last time I give you ice-cream.”

Stephanie shoots him an unimpressed look, “you say that all the time Pops and then you give me ice-cream anyways.”

“She’s got you there,” Katie choruses from the back and Paige watches as she high-five her grand-daughter. 

And she doesn’t quite know what that pang in her chest means, but she’s felt it every time she’s seen Stephani and the Fudds over the course of the Olympics. The Fudds had come to Brisbane -of course they had- and every time Paige caught sight of them in the stands or watched them from the corner of her eyes, it felt like something was stinging against her rib cage. They’d all had custom #35 Azzi jerseys and their cheers were louder than every other voice in the arena any time Team USA did anything and after each win, they’d been the first people down the stairs, ready to hug envelope Azzi in a hug. At the forefront of it was Stephanie, who’d ran into her mother’s arms at lightning quick speed and Paige had watched -hoping she was being at least somewhat conspicuous- as Azzi had spun the little girl around. 

It wasn’t that the Fudds ignored Paige. In fact they’d made it a point to come over to her right after to wrap her up amidst themselves. Stephanie had come over too, her smile shy as she’d congratulated Paige on the wins. The little girl clearly didn’t quite remember their interaction from all-star last year -her eyes regarding Paige almost like a stranger- and the blonde consoles herself with the fact that Stephanie’s only four. Four year olds weren’t known for remembering things that had happened when they were three. Still, it hurt a little bit considering Paige thinks of that interaction more than she probably should.  

But even though she’d still gotten the hugs and the smiles and the congratulations, it wasn’t quite the same, wasn’t anything like she’d picture during the conversations of we’ll get customized 5+35 Bueckers-Fudd jerseys for the Olympics she’d once had with Tim and Katie. 

“Alright Stephie-Bean, Mama’s gonna head back into the party-” Paige refocuses on the conversation just in time to hear Azzi get cut off by her rather dramatic daughter.

“I can’t bel-ieve you went to another party without me Mama,” Stephanie drags out the words, “no Mama-good-night-kisses cause she pick party-time over Stephie time.”

The little girl’s joking but Paige can tell by the way it makes Azzi pause for a second -her shoulder stiffening just a little bit- that it’s hit a nerve. She wants to soothe it away, wants to wrap her arms around her from behind, hitch her chin over her neck and take away all of Azzi’s worries. And that bitter thought -the one that seems to surface every time her heart beats a little faster for the brunette, the one that had filled her head when she’d woken up next to the younger woman earlier this morning- takes birth in her head again. The thought she could have done all of that -would have the right to do it- if only Azzi had just said yes.

“I’ll make it up to you Stephie-bean,” she hears Azzi promise, “tomorrow, just you and me okay sweetheart? All of my time’s gonna be yours.”

Stephanie’s face immediately brightens up, “okay Mama,” she says happily as she blows a kiss to the screen, “love you Mama. Good night.”

“Good night sweet girl. I love you more,” Azzi choruses back, waving at the screen before she cuts the call. 

It takes her a moment to turn around and Paige watches as Azzi takes in a deep breath, a subtle smile on her face as she takes in the Brisbane skyline. When she does finally turn around, surprise filters onto her expression at seeing the blonde standing there. 

“Hey,” Paige whispers nervously, stuffing her hands into the pocket of her pants. 

Azzi looks at her for a moment, “hi.”

They stand there rigidly, letting the tension -a completely different kind than the one that had encompassed them last night- simmer between them. It’s almost like they're daring each other to say something, to address the elephant in the room. 

Azzi breaks first, “something you wanted to say?”

“Just wanted some air,” Paige says, cringing a little bit at the cliché line that she’s now used twice in one night. 

“Right,” Azzi nods, moving towards the door, “guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Her voice is tinged with an iciness that sets Paige on edge. They haven’t been like this in a while and she’d thought they’d let go of the resentful exes gimmick they’d had going on for the first couple of years. But the hardness in Azzi’s tone suggests that it’s back with vengeance tonight. 

“Az-” Paige calls out. 

“What?” Azzi asks loudly, biting her lip when the harshness of it almost makes the blonde stumble back, “sorry I-”

But before she can apologize, Paige finds herself retaliating with the same hardness in her own tone, “what’s your fucking problem?”

“My problem?” Azzi reels back, eyes flashing with anger, “are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes. That’s clearly what I asked,” Paige retorts. 

Azzi laughs devoid of emotion, “I woke up to an empty bed this morning and you’re asking me what my fucking problem is?”

Guilt inches it’s way up Paige’s spine but it pales in comparison to the anger that flickers in the pit of her stomach, “oh that’s rich coming from you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is that not exactly what you did last time we fucked,” the profanity tastes acetous as it falls through Paige’s lips because it sounds wrong, like she’s insulting the sanctity of their relationship, no matter how broken it might be. 

“No it’s not,” Azzi nostrils flare, “I told you I was leaving. I had the common fucking decency to let you know. I didn’t just sneak out.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “oh spare me the semantics. It’s all the same shit at the end of the day. We both left.”

“Oh fuck you Paige,” Azzi snarls as she tries to leave but Paige is quicker, fingers wrapping around her wrist to stop her. 

And everything she’d been prepared to say dies in her throat because now they’re too close, chests heaving in harmony as their matching glares turn into something else. Paige’s eyes fall to Azzi’s lips, breath hitching when the brunette’s tongue darts out for a second to wet them. She tugs on Azzi’s wrist experimentally, pleased when there’s little hesitation and the younger woman lets herself be pulled closer. The air is electric with want as they lean in slowly, their noses brushing against each other as they wait for each other to make a move, to close the distance. 

But then there’s the sound of someone clearing their throat,  followed by someone else coughing and the two of them spring apart like they’ve been burned.

“Jesus Az, careful!” Jana’s concerned voice makes Paige’s ears perk up and she follows the Egyptians line of sight to see that Azzi had moved back so fast that she’d  fallen back against the balcony railing. 

“I’m fine,” Azzi says hurriedly but the shake in her voice betrays that she’s anything but. 

“Are you?” Paige turns to find Aaliyah watching them with the wary gaze of someone who’s been around them and their bullshit far too long, “because uh- we can hear y’all yelling from inside.”

Azzi’s eyes shoot up, panic evident on her face, “you heard us? Did you- could you hear what we said?”

Paige scoffs loudly, “oh right yeah because that would be really fucking bad wouldn’t be it Azzi? God forbid anyone found out you fucked me.”

And she doesn’t even know why she’s arguing -honestly she’s just as embarrassed at the idea of their teammates and rivals and everyone else in between actually overhearing their argument- but it pinches a nerve and she pointedly looks away from Azzi’s ashen face. 

“You guys fucked?” Paige flinches at how loud Jana is and Aaliyah lets out a low groan. 

“Jana,” the Canadian warns, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Sorry but like,” Jana looks back and forth between Paige and Azzi, dropping her voice, “y’all fucked?”

Paige sighs, feeling drained as she leans back against a pillar for support, “that’s what I said yes.”

If possible, Jana’s eyes get even wider, “so- so what does that mean for the two of you? Are you- are y’all gonna get back together?”

Azzi looks at Paige. 

Paige looks at Azzi. 

And it’s like they’re both imploring each other to answer Jana’s question and to answer it right. 

“It means nothing,” it’s the wrong answer and Paige knows it even before she says it -can tell by the way Azzi barely reacts that she knows Paige doesn’t even really believe herself- but she thinks maybe they’re not quite ready to get it right. Not yet. 

“Well there you go,” Azzi says quietly, shrugging nonchalantly at Jana, “it means nothing.”

Paige flinches at the repetition of her own words, looking away as Azzi starts walking towards the door again. The brunette’s shoulder brushes against the older woman’s -sparks igniting around them- and she hesitates. 

“It means nothing,” Azzi repeats, her voice a longing whisper only meant for Paige’s ears, “but maybe it could’ve meant something. If you’d stayed.”

***

June 2033

Paige is sulking in her room -watching film to distract herself from the images of Clémence, Azzi and Stephie together from last night that her brain is hellbent on conjuring up- when her pity party is broken up by the sound of her doorbell. She has the urge to ignore it, to stay curled up in the same position she’s been in all day. It’s a rather pathetic way to have spent one of her rare days off but it’s the only thing she’d felt like doing. But then whoever’s outside her door starts to press the bell longer and Paige huffs -irritated by the loudness of it- as she forces herself out of bed. 

She’s not sure who she was expecting. Perhaps Jana, who’d caught on rather quickly to what was happening between her two former teammates and had been making somewhat of an attempt to help fix it. Maybe Colleen, here to knock some sense into her on Azzi’s behalf. Or maybe even Tessa, who Paige had learned in the most awkward way, knew about them when the former Gamecock had made a teasing remark about the two of them the next practice, not knowing what had transpired two nights before. When both Paige and Azzi had immediately tensed, instead of blushing or rolling their eyes, Tessa had been perceptive enough to understand something had gone wrong. She’d been trying to help Jana ever since and Paige half expects it to be her at the door with words of wisdom and comfort alike. 

Who she isn’t expecting is Tim Fudd. 

His wife, she would’ve understood. After all Katie had done exactly that before and it was in the older woman’s nature to meddle just a little bit. Her husband, on the other hand, tended to stay as far out of things as possible. He could be a hovering coach and whenever Azzi’s spirits were low, he’d be there with a ridiculous dad joke and arms outstretched for a big bear hug. But when it came to his daughter’s personal life, Tim Fudd did his best not to interfere. 

Tim smiles at Paige when she opens the door, one hand holding up a bottle of whiskey with a grin on his face while his other hand is hidden behind his back. He rolls his eyes fondly when he notices the skeptical look Paige shoots at his liquor of choice before he reveals the premade bottle of dirty Shirley he’s been hiding behind his back. 

“Tsk tsk,” he grins mockingly, “what would the fans say if they knew their big bad rizzler can’t drink anything but a sweet cocktail?”

Paige shakes her head as she steps aside to let the man inside, “just cause I don’t drink cheap whiskey, doesn’t mean I don’t drink anything other than cocktails.”

“Cheap?!” Tim guffaws as the accusation, “I’ll have you know this is a Macallan.”

“You know that that means nothing to me right,” Paige says as she follows his lead into her kitchen. 

It’s almost foreign having somebody else in her space. Since Drew had left -rather hesitantly after seeing his sister’s condition- the house had been devoid of anyone else but Paige. Jana had tried to invite herself over a couple of times but it had gone in vain when Paige had chosen solitude over any company. It’s not that she particularly wants to be alone, it’s that she thinks -no, she knows- that there’s only two people who can cure this dreadful loneliness that feels like it’s become an innate part of existence. 

“Sit,” Tim says as he rummages through Paige’s cupboards for two glasses. 

Hesitating for a split second, Paige does as she's told, “did Azzi send you?”

“Are you hoping she did?’ Tim asks pointedly as he places two glasses one top of the counter, filling one with whiskey and other with dirty Shirley. 

Paige swallows as she accepts the drink from his hand, “nah,” lies, “ just uh- just feels like something she’d do.”

Tim looks at her for a minute as he takes a sip of his whiskey. 

“She didn’t send me,” he says finally and Paige tries to mask the tinge of disappointment his words send through her by taking a large swig of her shirley. 

“This tastes like shit,” she grimaces, wiping her mouth with the back of hand. 

“That premade stuff usually does. It’s that easy shit you know? The things that just exist without you doing any work. Just doesn’t hit the same as the harder stuff,” Tim says slowly as he leans back against his chair, a clear double meaning in his words. 

“You’re using alcohol as a metaphor? So I guess Katie sent you then?” Paige manages a half-smile but she feels her stomach churn at the implication of what he’d just said. 

Tim laughs, “it was my idea actually.”

“Her meddling rubbing off on you?” Paige quirks an eyebrow. 

Tim shakes his head, “I’m not here to meddle. Just wanted to tell you a story.”

Paige sighs, “so you are here to meddle then.”

Tim ignores her, fiddling with the glass of whiskey in his hands, “did you know Katie and I almost didn’t end up together?”

Paige stares at the older man in shock. Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised; relationships were complicated after all. But for all the years she’d known Tim and Katie, they’d always been just that. TimAndKatie. The epitome of stableness that had stood strong amongst all the other relationships Paige had watched break down one by one.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Tim says lightly when he notices how wide Paige’s eyes have gotten, “everyone makes mistakes. We’re all capable of doing dumb shit that almost makes us lose everything we’ve ever loved.”

Paige gulps, “what- what did you do?”

“I left,” Tim says slowly. 

“You left?” the familiar words make Paige nauseous and she wonders if that slightly regretful look on Azzi’s dad’s face is echoed on her own. 

“It was a couple months into our relationship and Katie and I had a huge fight. It was about her not letting me make a decision about Azzi,” Tim explains and the similarity of the situation almost makes Paige want to block her ears. 

“It was something small, something stupid. Probably nothing that even mattered cause I don’t even remember it. But I remember how I felt. I was really fucking mad but more than anything I think- I think I was scared. Because that argument, it was a remind that even though I loved her so fucking much, Azzi wasn’t mine. Not yet. And that if I lost Katie, I’d lose her too. The idea of losing Katie was scary enough but losing both of them? I didn’t know how to deal with that,” Tim's voice shakes, like he’s relieving his biggest fears and Paige feels her own eyes start to water; his words settling salt in her still-raw open wounds. 

“And it got so heated and we were yelling all this bullshit at each other that eventually I just- I didn’t know what else to do and I just- I started to leave. And Azzi- I guess we were so loud we woke her up- she- she saw me leaving,” there’s an unfamiliar grave look on the normally jovial old man’s face as he reminisces that night, “she ran down the stairs and threw herself at my knees begging me not to go but I- I was so mad and so fucking scared that I walked away anyways.”

“How- how did you fix it?” Paige asks, her voice almost pleading as she wipes away the droplets of water running freely down her cheeks. 

“Well not immediately that’s for sure,” Tim cracks a smile, trying to lighten the mood, “took me a little bit of time to pull my head out of my ass and when I finally did, Katie wasn’t so quick to forgive me for it either. And it wasn’t about her or me or us, it was about Azzi. The first time I showed up, she didn’t even let me in. Said she could only let me through that door again if I could promise to stay. Because Azzi had seen me leave once and she wasn’t gonna let her see it again.”

“It must’ve killed you,” Paige whispers, her stomach twisting in knots, “the guilt of hurting her.”

Tim nods, “it did but I think- or at least I hope I’ve made up for it now.”

“You have,” Paige reaches over to squeeze his arm gently, “how did you get her to forgive you?”

“Simple,” Tim places his own hand over hers as he continues, “we talked it out. I explained all my fears to her. How scared I was of losing her, of losing Azzi. And she- she understood because she was scared too, scared of losing me, scared of Azzi losing me. In the end we were both scared of the same thing but all of that got a whole lot less scary when we faced it together.”

Maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together

“How did you get over it,” Paige asks, almost desperately, “the fear of losing them? How did you move past that?”

Tim smiles wistfully, “time. Not time apart but time together. It wasn’t easy taking that first step, facing that fear but I knew if I wanted them, it was what I was gonna have to do. And I had to trust Katie, that if I stayed, she’d stay.”

“And she stayed,” Paige says softly. 

“Yeah she did,” this time, Tim’s grin breaks through his entire, “and the more time she stayed, the more my trust in her grew until one day I just knew. I knew she wasn’t gonna leave ever again. Well, maybe she’s thought about it a couple of times like when I nearly burnt the house down tryna make cookies or when I accidentally tore a hole in our wall tryna hang up a photo frame. 

Paige lets out a watery laugh as Tim winks at her, everything suddenly seeming a lot more simple than it had before the older man had walked through her door. 

“I know it’s not quite the same for you and Azzi,” Tim continues slowly, “you guys have a history that Katie and I didn’t. You both have more reasons to be scared than the two of us did. But Paige, I’ve always thought you were it for my baby girl. From the moment she came back from USA camp and all she could talk about was you, I just knew.”

Paige can’t help the broken sob that escapes her lips and Tim immediately rounds the kitchen counter to wrap an arm around her shoulder. 

“When she was pregnant with Stephie, she kept on asking for mint-choc chip ice cream. Said it was a craving or something. And she decorated everything for her in purple. All the baby clothes she bought were shades of purple,” he doesn’t quite say why Azzi did all of that but there’s a clear implication in his words. 

And Paige thinks that probably,  why she and Stephie are so similar, why they shared so many favorites, why the little girl had always felt like hers. Because Azzi had given a part of Paige to her daughter, even when she hadn’t had Paige herself. 

“Katie and Azzi, they’re mine but I think- I think if maybe someone else had gotten to them first -someone who loved them just as much as I do- maybe there’s a chance things would be different but Paige,” Tim squeezes the younger woman gently, “I think Azzi’s always been waiting for you. Subconsciously at least. There’s never really been anybody elese for her. Her and Stephie, they’ve both always been waiting for you, they’ve both always been yours.”

“You mean that?” Paige asks croakily and she feels like she’s a teenager again, asking Tim to pinky promise that he’d like her box-dyed purple hair no matter what. 

“I do,” Tim smiles as he looks at her, “and I think they’ll be yours forever. I think they want to be. You just have to say you’ll stay.”

[westside-rot]

Talk To Me Nice

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black reader

No warnings for this one. Hopefully there aren't too many errors cuz it's only lightly edited. I'm trying to squeeze in my last post of the year lol

This little idea is the result of a writing prompt and @megamindsecretlair keeping me honest about writing something every day. Figured I'd share the results with whoever else wants to check it out.

“That’s a bit harsh my love…”

After spending the last 20 minutes filling your home with negative energy you expected reciprocation.  Instead you were being derailed with a new form of gaslighting, the kind reserved for evolved men who appeared harmless on the surface but harbored a petty side few got to see. Though impressive, you knew Terry was only using kind words to paint himself the victim. It didn’t matter how many steps ahead you thought you were. The guilt still hit with the same bruising force.

Six months of newlywed bliss cruelly interrupted by disappointment you never wanted to feel so early into your marriage. Perhaps there was a better way to convey that hurt to your husband. Maybe sitting him down for a mature conversation would’ve spared you from the growing pressure around your temples and the rawness in your throat from all the yelling you’d been doing. You were convinced the window for apologies and grand romantic gestures had closed. He'd started it. You were damn sure going to finish it.

You pushed through your doubts and committed to your frustrations with arms folded tightly across your chest, the initial urge to roll your eyes shifting to a hard, resolute stare. “Well Terrence sometimes harsh is necessary.”

He scratched his beard and nodded as though you’d just agreed on what to have for dinner. Silence took over the room once again, intensifying the conflict between you. His eyes never broke contact.

“Are you done?” From anyone else the question would’ve triggered your inner toxic and possibly resulted in the police being called. But there was note of calmness in your husband’s voice that exonerated him from the accusation before it became your new truth. Terry wasn’t being dismissive. He was simply better at regulating his emotions.  His inability to stop wringing his hands together revealed the stress hidden within. For a second time you were forced to ignore your guilt for the sake of winning. Mirroring his casual demeanor, you continued to stand firm and prepared for whatever he intended to say next.

“I must’ve imagined sitting in premarital counseling for all those weeks. Or maybe I was the only one taking it seriously. That must be it 'cause at the first sign of a problem you’ve broken every promise we made to each other.” His words landed direct hits on your conscience. Everything holding you together began to cave under the weight of his response. Terry wasn’t wrong. Instinctively, you went into defense mode anyway.  

“That’s not fai—”

“Nah, you’re not about to interrupt me. I let you speak. You’ll show me the same respect. Understand?” The natural base in his voice instantly got your attention. Yes sir rang so clearly in your mind you weren’t entirely convinced you hadn’t said it out loud. You prayed Terry couldn’t somehow feel the lust pulsing alongside everything else flooding your system. One day soon under normal circumstances you were going to explore his newfound aggressive side. How, you weren’t entirely sure. With a new goal seared into your brain and soaked through panties clinging to your ass you managed to retain a sense of dignity as you obeyed your husband’s command. 

“You’re my wife. One day you’ll be the mother of our children. I refuse to let them hear us talking crazy to each other, so I’m gonna need you to find a better way to communicate your feelings. If I need to sign us back up for therapy I will but this shit ends tonight.”

All the fight drained from your body. Shame took its place. In its presence you were finally able to recall those important conversations leading up to your wedding, the dreams you shared, the legacy you wanted to create. If not for your anger you could have revisited them sooner and found a better use for them. Now you were facing an evening apart, perhaps more depending on how long Terry held on to a grudge.

All you could do was stare at the ground and wait for it to be over with. Hopefully you’d find a way to sleep knowing you had failed your first test as a wife. When your lip started to quiver you promptly bit down on it to keep your hurt feelings in check.  You hadn’t behaved in a way deserving of care but when Terry's long fingers reached out to palm the side of your face you sought out his warmth like a needy kitten.

“Now you’re breaking my heart.”

“I can’t help it. Did you have to be so mean?” Though you found your ability to speak you burrowed your pout lips further into his hand. The loudest person in the room didn’t deserve to cry. If you were lucky you'd disappear and rematerialize tomorrow with more sense.

“It got your attention. Besides, I thought harsh was necessary. Or does that only apply when you’re cursing me out?” He chuckled.  You weren’t persuaded by the playfulness in his voice to look up. Terry initiated the gesture with fingers affectionately placed beneath your chin. It wasn’t lost on you that he'd repositioned your face at the same proud angle you held while lecturing him as if two nights apart somehow equated to years of neglect. You wanted to look away but soon discovered his eyes remained steadfast and beautiful in the aftermath of the storm you’d caused. They connected with your soul in an instant providing a gentle assurance that you were safe with him.

 The words flowed through your upturned lips effortlessly. “I’m sorry baby. You didn’t deserve all those ugly things I said to you.” Before you could say more he captured your face in both hands, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re already forgiven my love.” Terry’s lips grazed yours as he spoke. The distance was torture. Finally, after what felt like an unbearably long time, he covered your mouth with his, reestablishing his dominance with a tenderness that sets your heart and mind at ease.  It was a proper reconciliation, but it also wasn’t enough. Not after the way you behaved tonight.

You treated the sincerity on his lips as your own personal buffet. When it became difficult to breathe you pulled away to regain control over the situation.  “I still have a lot to make up for.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he pushed the curls back from your face. “We both do. Your approach needs some work, but you had a right to be upset with me.” You nodded and yet nothing in you wanted to celebrate the vindication. You were simply relieved to know you hadn’t caused any irrevocable damage by overreacting. Even more relieved to see him smiling again.  "I think my beautiful and extremely childish wife should get the honor of going first.”

The frown you attempted to hold cracked under the pressure of his wide grin. You hate being teased. You were also guilty on all counts and willing to take your punishment. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“It’s very fair.” He mumbled between prolonged kisses down your neck.

You exhaled and curved your fingers over his broad shoulders. It was becoming harder to think or even breathe with him sucking everywhere his lips could reach. “Can we talk it out like grown-ups tomorrow?”

“Of course, baby. It's mandatory from now on.” When he spoke the guttural quality possessing his voice registered deep in the places he’s yet to touch. You felt painfully empty but knew you wouldn’t stay that way for long. At the rate his lips were moving you weren’t convinced you'd make it past the couch. You preferred the comfort of your king-sized bed the scene of your crime was a fitting place for getting down on your knees to make proper use of your mouth.

Terry surprised you when he broke the suction on your collarbone to reunite at eye level. There was a noticeable glint of mischief in his eyes before he bent down to throw you over his shoulder. You squealed and braced a hand at the center of his back for support you really didn't need.

"You better not drop me trying to be cute!"

"I was planning on letting you off easy tonight. Now I'm thinking your apology needs to be as loud as all that shit you've been talking."

"Yes daddy. Remind me what all these big strong muscles are really for. Also, please send help!"

With a single act you reclaim the home you’ve built, your gasps and combined laughter echoing along the walls as he carried you upstairs.

[dimesdimesdimess]

CONFESSION - Part Two

Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader

Warnings: innocent reader, lustful priest, oral (female receiving), fingering, swearing

Readers Notes: You guys enjoyed the first part so much I wasted no time writing the second part! I hope you enjoy and there could be one more part coming. Not proof read, possible spelling errors.

part one

As the week passed all you could think about is what happened with you and Father Charlie during your confession. Part of you felt guilty for doing what you did, but another part of you enjoyed it and you hated to admit that you were looking forward to Thursday and to seeing him again. You had no idea what he could possibly have planned this time. He had spoken to you on Sunday and instructed you to come on Thursday after hours, so there would be no interruptions. You never had done so before, but you carefully picked out your outfit: a cute tan mini dress with florals on it and a cute bow that tied in the bust area of the dress and tan ballet flats. Along with your white rosary around your neck. You took one last look of yourself in the mirror before you finally headed out and made your way to the church. 

Father Charlie was in his office waiting for you, his fingertips tracing along his desk as he thought of you and thought of your pussy as it glistened under the dim light of the confession booth last Thursday. He too knew the thoughts he had were a sin.. But he always knew how to absolve himself of his lustful ways. You had come walking into the church, dipping your fingers into the holy water and signing the cross before you headed toward his office. You thought a silly thing for you to sign the cross considering the sins you were going to commit soon. 

You took a deep breath as you walked toward Father Charlie’s office and once you were face to face with the door you took another deep breath and quickly soothed out your dress before you lightly knocked on the door. “Father? It’s me, Y/N.” you said softly. A warm smile formed on his face when he heard your voice. 

“Come in, Y/N.” he replied. 

You slowly opened the door, peeking your head in at first before stepping aside. He didn’t lift his head up but his eyes looked up through his lashes and he slowly brushed his fingers against his chin as he saw what you were wearing and he smirked to himself as he quickly stood up. “Right on time as usual..” he hummed, eyeing you up and down in your little dress. You could feel his stares as you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes as you felt your face growing hot. He liked that. He liked how innocent and shy you were around him. He leaned against his desk and his hands rested against it. “Sit down, Y/N.” he murmured. 

You slowly walked over and sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk and you glanced up to see him standing before you, he looked handsome as always. You tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear nervously. “So.. uh.. What are we going to do today, father?” you asked in a mousy little voice. He had a half smirk on his lips. 

“Well.. I thought we’d talk more about your thoughts. The dirty ones. Are you still having them after our last talk?” he looked down at you, his stare so intense. 

You nodded hesitantly. How could you not have them after what happened last week. 

“Mm..” he says softly. “And they’re still the same as you described to me?” he questions. 

“Yes..” you answer softly, peering back up at him and seeing the smile on his face. He loved this. 

“Mm.. Well, I think we should maybe take the next step into helping you.” he suggests. 

You raised an eyebrow at him curiously. “What’s the next step?” you ask. He suddenly got closer to you and he leaned over toward you, his hands resting on either side of the arm rests of your chair and his hands gripping it tight. If you wanted to move.. You couldn’t because he had you trapped between him and the chair. You stared up at him. Your eyes meeting with such intensity, he licked over his lips as he studied your face for a moment. 

“The next step is making those desires of yours come true..” he uttered in a low raspy tone. His right hand letting go of the armrest of the chair and reaching up to touch your face and you jump slightly at his touch as his fingers caress your cheek slowly. “Instead of you playing with yourself and imagining this man touching you.. I can help you.. I can give you what you want.” he whispered, the pad of his thumb tracing along your bottom lip. The very feeling of it makes you shudder in pleasure and you could feel your breathing growing heavy.

“Is.. Is.. that allowed? I thought priests couldn’t do things like that..” you mumble as you look up at him innocently. 

He smirked and his face moved closer to yours and now your lips were practically inches apart from one another. “God wants this.. God wants you to give yourself to me. He chose me to give this to you..We must obey him, right?” he mumbles before his lips crash against yours, not even giving you a chance to answer. A soft moan escapes you as you kiss him back without a thought, nodding in response to him. You kissed him with such a hunger that you began to drag your tongue along his lips and slipped into his mouth, he moved his hand from your face and reached up to grab a handful of your hair and tugged your head back forcefully. You look at him with wide eyes as you gasp. “Do you want this?” he mumbles to you as his lips press against your jaw. 

You let out a soft whimper. “Yes.. Yes..” you pleaded. 

“Yes what?” he whispered in your ear. 

“Yes father..” you whimpered. 

He smirks and lets you go as he stands up straight again and he takes a hold of your hands and stands you up. “Take off your clothes.” he demands as he reaches up and tugs at the bow on the front of your dress until it unravels and opens up at the top just enough to get a peek at your breasts. You scrape your teeth against your bottom lip as you nodded at his words, not even thinking about questioning him this time. You slowly begin to slip your dress off and let it fall into a puddle at your feet and you step out of it, staring up at him as you stood there in just your bra and panties. He licked over his lips as he looked over your body and he ran his fingers up along your left arm which caused you to shiver. “Remove everything..” he whispers. You look up at him and you lock eyes as you slowly unclasped your bra and let it drop to the floor as it slides off your shoulders, Father Charlie takes a deep breath as he stares down at your breasts, biting his bottom lip as his eyes linger down and he watches you slip your panties off next. He runs his hand along your abdomen as he just stares at your body, his staring making you feel a bit shy and when you try to cover yourself with your hands he quickly grabs them to stop you and he shakes his head. “Don’t. You’re beautiful..” he says softly. 

You feel the heat rushing to your face again and you smile at him. “Sit down, Y/N.” he mumbles. You look at him confused but sit back down as he asks and the cold leather of the chair pressed against your ass makes you shiver and you watch as he gets down on his knees before you. His hands run over your thighs, slowly moving up and down in between your thighs. He stares at you with such intensity in his eyes as he smirks. “This is a blessing from God.” he mutters. Your eyes are wide as you watch him, his hands feel so good against your soft skin and you breathe heavily as you watch him as he spreads your legs open and leans his head down so that he’s right in between your thighs and soft noise escapes from your lips. 

“F..Father..” you say breathlessly. 

“Shh..” he mumbles, softly pressing kisses along your left inner slowly making his way up to your pussy. Your eyes rolled back just feeling his lips against you. You couldn’t believe it but you were already wet and in desperate need to feel his mouth against your pussy and without hesitation as his lips grew closer and closer to your throbbing cunt your hands grab onto his head and you grip his hair between his fingers and he smirks to him when he feels you tugging at his hair and he sticks his tongue out and drags it up your inner thigh and he lets out a soft moan and now his hands grab your thighs and spread when further that his props your legs up over the arm rests of the chair and now you were spread wide open, your pussy completely on display for him and he can see the arousal dripping between your lips and you could hear a soft groan escaping from his lips from the very sight before he buries his face in your pussy and his tongue dives right in between your wet folds, he presses his tongue against your swollen clit and flicks his tongue against it slowly as his hands grip your thighs tugging you closer and you throw your head back in pleasure feeling his warm tongue in your pussy and you moan softly, gripping his hair tighter in between your fingers.

He begins to circle his tongue slowly around your clit, your wetness smearing on his face as he begins to lap his tongue around your clit and flicking it playfully before sucking on it a bit. You let out a soft moan and your head tilted back and a small “Mm..” escaping your lips. He pressed his tongue firmly against your clit again dragging it up and down and he glanced up at you for a moment to see you completely overcome with pleasure. He starts dragging his tongue down now and sliding it inside of you, pumping it slowly. You begin moving your hips slightly against him, tugging hard at his hair as your moans grew a bit louder, your eyes rolling back. Father Charlie was enjoying every minute of this that his pants were so uncomfortably tight from how hard he was now, he removed his tongue and slide it backup to your clit, and moved his right hand between your legs using three of his fingers he ran them in between your wet folds getting his fingers nice and coated in your arousal before shoving the three of them inside of you roughly as his tongue played with your clit and he now pumped his fingers inside of you at a steady pace. You gasped loudly as you whimpered between your loud moans. “Fuck.. Father…” you could hardly speak. His fingers dug into your flesh as he squeezed your thigh for dear life with his other hand and he pulled his head back momentarily and he spits on your clit and his saliva runs down to his fingers as his they continues to pump deep inside of you and curling just slightly to hit the right spots inside of you. You were so wet that his face was a mess with your arousal.

His cock pressed tight against his pants from how hard he was but he was too focused on pleasuring you to even think about himself. He’d masturbate after thinking of you to get himself off. You didn’t know how much longer of this you could take, your legs began to tremble and your moans were becoming extremely vocal and you could feel that funny feeling you felt before when you were close and now it was building faster than before and you pushed his face against your pussy and your thighs wrapped around him forcing his head there. It felt like the devil had suddenly taken over and now both his hands were on your thighs and he was moaning against your pussy, sucking, licking every last bit of you like you were his last meal. “F-.. Charlie..” you cried out. “I’m gonna.. Gonna cum.. Fuck..” you whimpered and you held him tight against you as you finally reached your orgasm and your body convulsed and twitched against him as you came hard all over his face. You could hear him groaning and mumbling and he let go of your thighs and pushed them away as he pulled his head up for air and he was moaning as his face dripped in your cum. 

“Goddamn..” he groaned, licking his lips and then taking two fingers and wiping them against his face so they were coated in your cum and he stared at you. You felt like you were seeing stars when you finally opened your eyes again, your body felt stiff and tired now and you stared back at him and he reached over and grabbed a hold of your face and shoved the two fingers covered in your cum into your mouth forcing you to taste yourself and your eyes rolled back and you sucked his fingers clean like a desperate little slut. He watched you with delight in his eyes and he pulled his fingers out of your mouth and then put them into his mouth, sucking your saliva off as he stared intensely at you before he stood back up on his feet and soothing out his clothes and fixing his collar. “I think we really got somewhere this time.. In no time I’ll have you rid of those dirty thoughts in that head of yours.” he grinned. 

You didn’t even know what to say because you were still in a daze. You slowly sat up trying to compose yourself as you reached down to grab your dress and he suddenly stopped you and made you look at him. Father Charlie leaned down and he kissed you softly. You kissed him back and when he pulled away you didn’t want him too and a part of you felt disappointed. He now begins to pray over you and absolve you of your sins. You stared silently as he did and all you could think about was how you wanted him more than ever and now you weren’t sure if this was helping you or making your feelings for him worse. But all you knew was that you desperately wanted to fuck the priest.

Tagging: @nicholasachavez @smokeymountainboy @arianatheangel-girl @theycametoconquertheearth53 @suspiciousmindsxo

If you would like to be added to my taglist let me know!

[artytaeh]

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

can i disagree with some of this fandom's perception of tom riddle? surely he won't be a sweetheart like lorenzo, but...

┊ i also don't think that he'd be so intentionally rude, so cold towards his significant other. i honestly think that if tom ever becomes infatuated with someone, he would take pride into getting this someone to belong to him. willingly! 🌷

౨ৎ i guess i'll never know the reason why you ♡ ͡

love me like you do; that's the wonder of you . . .

... tom riddle is a smart man, you see. love, romantic feelings, to act like a couple and all of those things— these might be the most confused that tom riddle will ever be, because otherwise, he's an extremely competent, capable young man.

tom riddle does get confused, a little lost on what to do; he'd torture himself by discreetly watching couples at hogwarts interacting, maybe make some research (= read novels. romantic novels. it was a discovery of a new medieval torture for tom, seriously, to waste his precious time reading some sappy crap like that.) to better understand how to handle you.

how to deal with you.

how to cherish you, so that you don't ever entertain the idea of leaving him. you see, tom is a practical man— he'd rather not commit mistakes, because to fail, means to spend extra time fixing his error and doing the same thing twice, so that this time, it's done correctly.

applying this ideology to you, it means: that 1) tom riddle prefers to always keep your heart happy, so that you don't have doubts about him; so that 2) he won't have to take twice the effort to conquer the city of your heart again.

some think that tom wouldn't like petnames. to be fair, tom would frown at many of those, at first— thinking that they were cringe, disgusting or a psychological way to acquire diabetes. however, when tom gets used to this stir on his heart, those loud heart beatings that cloud his rational thoughts...

... it's excused to say that tom's preferred petname to call you by, is 'my love'.

tom reasons that's because it isn't a lie at all. well, you're certainly his— and because of you, because of your existence, of this enchanting aura of yours; that's how tom riddle discovered love. there are few things that tom is attached to. even fewer that he shows to care about, to have affectionate feelings for; one of them is the basilisk. others are his favorite books, all of them first editions that were troublesome, but endlessly worth it, to get. nevertheless, at the peak of the pyramid, there's you.

you. oh, how your name sounds so angelic, so right, so perfect on his lips. sometimes, tom doesn't call you by any petnames, so that he can mouth each syllable of your name, tasting the acquaintance of the name of his darling on his lips.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

he might call you by other petnames, depending on the occasions:

darling; which, in his opinion, is fairly one of the best petnames to be shared between a couple. because you, reader, are endearing to his eyes— a darling, really, whose presence immediately softens (ever so slightly, because tom riddle still is tom riddle himself, and that mask of stoicism of his won't be broken without putting up a fight.) those previously icy, cold eyes of his.

dearest; if tom is trying to reason with you. unlike what many think, tom would take a deep breath, put on that handsome smile of his, and use a gentle tone to convince some words inside that pretty little head of yours. 'dearest', he calls for you— so gentle, so full of affection; as if reminding you that you are the object of all of his affections and desires. you, his dearest, the one he adores the most. the reminder of such a fact easily melts you in less than a few seconds, which tom sees as too perfect of an opportunity to lose to convince you much faster.

doll; if you look rather ravishing to his eyes, whenever you dress up even prettier than other school days, and wear such pretty clothes and many accessories to further optimize your beauty. beautiful, perfect, flawless; like a doll. a carefully made doll. a doll, that sits there quiet and all pretty, obedient, doing as she's told.

( i must warn you, though, that tom won't entertain silly nicknames from you. tom riddle will ignore you, march forward without sparing a glance at you, not even acknowledging your presence should you insist on the matter. tom won't answer you, should you refer to him by such hideous petnames. you could be about to fall from a mountain, and yet tom won't help you until you address him properly. baby? he's not a child, for salazar's sake! pookie bear? now that might make tom riddle himself throw you off from the mountain's edge— call him such a monstrosity like that, and tom will lose every drop of faith on you. you're a lost cause. )

if he had to choose; yes, tom would prefer if you were obedient. contrary to popular belief, tom riddle is quite fascinated with sweet personas. to have a sweet significant other, who's all smiles and considerate words— it's so, so much easier for tom.

between a brat that trashes around for his attention, and a sweet girl who gently tries to indulge (purely out of concern, wanting him to share his problems with her!)— tom would rather choose the latter.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

quite the darling you are. to boldly take tom's hands between your own, with that frown of yours. no, you're not being whiny; yet tom can see that there's consideration, there's time spent on that little brain of yours, that tries to find the right words to speak with him.

then, when you voice your concerns— that tom spends some time alone from time to time, seemingly hiding something from you, as if to shoulder all of those burdens all by himself...

tom takes a deep breath, swallowing his temper. trying to keep his composure, because tom hates having to justify his actions. with a smile, tom puts on a facade, with a too much convincing tone: "oh, dearest, no. i'm flattered that you noticed that i haven't been having the best days; however, your presence makes everything better. in fact, being with you now, makes all of my problems seem insignificant in comparison."

should his sweet words not be enough to keep your nose out of his business, then tom takes a step further. holding your hands, tom squeezes them between his fingers, gently at first, tightly when you're too stubborn: "my problems are mine to solve, my love. i would never put such a heavy burden on you; your smile is too precious for me to ruin."

sweet, sweet words; some that tom mentally grimaces at, but knows that are necessary and effective with you. talking as if he's doing you a favor on keeping you away from his PERSONAL thoughts and goals.

and that's how tom pushes you way. gently, smoothly— so that you'd have to rethink this moment over and over, for you to understand that once again, tom riddle has tricked you; tricked you into doing what he wants. because without a fight, without you daring to bother him further... tom riddle made you go back to your own business, and leave his alone.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

however, when tom is in a better mood and less stressed with his own goals, he'd find it funny, entertaining even, if his darling tried to be bossy. to pout, to want some sort of control. it's hilarious for him.

so, he indulges you. well, sort of— tom tricks you into thinking that he gave in to your commands. to your whims. in a sneaky way, tom makes you think that you're in control!

the one who's in charge is you. yes, darling, of course. he pats your head, gives you that charming smile of his. with such a serene expression, tom briefly raises his eyebrows, mocking you inside that devious mind of his, as he says: you are absolutely right, dearest.

tom riddle doesn't really mind that you aren't consciously aware that the one in charge is him. that's fine; no, seriously, go and brag about it!

because ultimately, tom knows that what he says, goes. that with some sweet words of his, a little touch here and there, that you'll soon see the reason and comply to whatever tom wishes you to say, to do, to behave.

he does is so smoothly, that even for the outsiders, well... it'd be hard to realize that all that tom riddle is doing to you, is nothing but manipulation. and you're oh so easy to manipulate— it was a challenge at first. now, it's more of a chore; tom barely blinks through it. he knows you so well.

however, so that you whining and getting used to think that you're having things done your way, tom throws some praises and compliments here and there.

touching you chin, gently brushing his thumb on your lower lip; tom's gaze intentionally softens, as he praises: 'you're just too good to be true, my love.', whenever you act accordingly. when you do as he says.

brushing a strand of yours away from your face, so that he can further admire the physical features of his beloved: 'i sincerely can't take my eyes of you, darling, when you are so good for me like this. pardon the way that i stare— you're too beautiful.'

and with even more sincerity, tom riddle isn't sure where his manipulation ends and his genuine care for you starts; tom isn't sure, whether his words are now a muscle memory of his, or if he truly means them.

but he never allows himself to discover the roots of this thought. to actually find out if he truly is such an emotionally shallow person, or if his weakness for his darling is deeper than he realizes. no— this is one of the few matters, in which tom would rather remain ignorant about.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

because tom is such a gentleman with you...

opening doors for you. walking two, three steps ahead of you as soon as the entrance is upon sight, tom will open the door for you; his arm keeps it open for you to enter or leave the room first, and so those grayish-green eyes of his watch you, as you pass by. then, tom will enter just behind you, following your lead, quickening his steps to go back to his rightful place by your side. he lies to himself, saying that he only does such a small gesture to effortlessly keep you by his side. tom would be telling the truth, if he doesn't interrupt the thought that he enjoys to escort you— because, deep down, tom genuinely appreciates your company. every step, every minute you spend together. 'here, love. please, continue; what did you tell your housemate, then?'

tom riddle refuses to let you carry heavy books. so, as if it was muscle memory and so smoothly that you can't do anything about it, tom will carry your books along with his, as soon as you leave the classroom. it's not that he finds you useless, incapable; rather, tom riddle perceives you as a... preciously delicate, fragile little thing. most of the times, tom does it so nonchalantly that you don't even notice; you're too distracted by your conversation, to notice how tom carries your stuff, busying his arms. however, should you notice or worry that you're being a burden to tom in any way; tom shakes his head at you, waving off this silly insecurity of yours: 'i know you can carry them, beloved. however, allow me to do it for you. i am your boyfriend, am i not?'

offering his hand for you to take, whenever there's a higher step to be climbed up, or tricky stairs on your way. tom will do it too, to give you some kind of support, should you jump off of a particular high edge. whenever you wear high heels, tom would be specially careful with you— he offers his arm or hand for you to take, walking in a much slower pace than usual, so that you won't overexert your feet. we can't have his darling getting hurt, now can we? no bruises, no pain, no redness on your skin undesired by him, nothing to interrupt the lovely time you're spending together. 'take my hand, my love; it's quite high for you. that's it, darling, good girl.'

whenever you're about to sit, tom grabs the back of your chair, pushing the seat backwards for you to take, then helps you settle closer to the table. only then, will tom take his own seat in front of you. it's something that becomes so, so common between both of you, that sometimes you find yourself taking a few more seconds to sit down, whenever you hang out with your friends; unconsciously, you'd wait for tom to gently guide you to your seat. oh, you're spoiled.

leaning down to get the material you accidentally knocked out; if he's not quick enough to notice, then tom will keep his hand on the edge of the table, so that there's no chance for you to hit your head. 'quite the klutz, aren't you, darling?' — with a lighthearted tone, so that he doesn't come by as mean, tom couldn't help but to tease you just this time, — 'next time, let me get it for you, dearest. now, careful with your head.'

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

... and because he's always so soft-spoken with you, well, how could you listen to your friends, in case they notice that maybe tom riddle isn't as a good guy as he lets on? that perhaps, he is a little controlling. that maybe, he's too overprotective of you.

→ and of course, being the fool you are, you stroll to the lion's cage (or should we call it snake?) and deliver all of this information on a silver platter for him.

SAT SIDEWAYS ON HIS LAP, tom settles your thighs to rest on top of his, while a hand is respectfully kept there; caressing the smooth skin, rubbing circles on the bare skin of your thigh, just inches underneath the hem of your skirt.

tom riddle keeps up a serene expression, sometimes humming in acknowledgement, to show you that he's listening to this ramble of yours. if it's a topic that seems to have bothered or upsets you, then tom will keep another hand on your lower back; he soothes you with small movements of his fingers.

oh, how funny. so this ravenclaw friend of yours, told you that it isn't normal for tom, your boyfriend, to comment whether you roll up your skirt during summer? that such a thing is being controlling? now that's something tom will have to deal with. perhaps, he'll only have to frame this irritating ravenclaw girl; have you ever thought that maybe, she's interested in tom? that must be why the ravenclaw is filling your pretty little brain with such absurd exaggerations of his doings. how lucky you are, to have an attentive boyfriend that easily notices when a friend of yours has bad intentions.

( for obvious reasons, tom despises amortentia. he finds it disgusting, but more than that, tom riddle perceives amortentia has a rather pathetic tool to get someone's affection. tom will never use it on you— he doesn't need to! however, he will get his hands on one, to use it on that nosy, insufferable ravenclaw friend of yours. only to prove his point. so that this nosy girl acts disgustingly flirty around tom, so that you'll come running back into his arms, crying about such an awful friend and that once again, tom was right. you apologize to him, for doubting his assumptions. you end this friendship and cut ties with the ravenclaw girl. and tom, well, tom riddle has once again rid both of you from troublesome outsiders. )

ah, now this is entertaining! so these friends of yours, housemates, have noticed that tom has been keeping an eye on you. now, dearest, that's rather silly, don't you think? so what if you seem to find the same familiar faces in the same space as you? do you really believe your friends' theories? that he sends his followers ''friends'' to follow you around the school? darling, hogwarts is quite enormous and spacious, yet all of you study together in the same castle. it's inevitable, to see familiar faces, here and there.

( however, tom will blame his followers. how difficult can it be, to follow, to stalk a girl like you? and to go unnoticed as they do that? sincerely, tom stares at them with such disgust, such disappointment, that his followers tremble under his gaze— the future dark lord even mentions the idea of getting rid of them. of throwing them away. after all, why would he need such useless, such incompetent boys like them, if they can't follow simple orders correctly? it's excused to say, that you'd never suspect being stalked again. 1) because tom reassured you that such a thought is rather silly; and 2), because these followers of tom riddle do a much better job. out of fear. )

oh, darling, what silly friends you have! sincerely, it seems like you only attract observant delusional friends, or attentive paranoid companies!

in the end, it doesn't matter if your friends tried to alert you about tom's toxic concerning flaws traits. because in the end, at night, he will have you nuzzling on his lap, holding you so tenderly; all of these warnings disappear into thin air, when tom makes you laugh at such accurate ridiculous accusations.

in conclusion: no, tom riddle would never be rude or snap at you; not if he can help it, not if he can keep his temper in check. he believes that the best way to keep you so effortlessly devoted and infatuated, to keep you willingly by his side, is to treat you with care (even if sometimes he has to manipulate his way into it). how lucky you are, to have such a obsessive caring boyfriend!

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i'm endlessly faithful to theodore nott. however. the first to kick the entrance door to my heart was tom riddle. and what a man (i can't fix him. i would let him ruin my life him tho!), ladies and gentlemen.

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[manikas-whims]

if you're writing on Xav's dialogue then how about some smut on this 🤭

“no one's here. you can yell or scream if you're tired.”

just a suggestion no pressure tho hehe 👉👈

ohhh anon i love this idea! 🤭 this was written in one sitting so please ignore any errors in grammar..

“no one's here. you can yell or scream if you're tired.”

— Part 2/? of turning Xavier's questionable dialogues into short fics.

The obscene plap plap plap of skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the emptiness of the gym. Xavier’s arms held your ass in place as you felt your walls being stretched and filled with every thrust he made into your dripping folds.

“Mmmmphhhh!..mmmhhhh..”

Your legs quivered under the force of the thrusts, head hanging low with the exhaustion of not just some regular workout but the naughty endeavors you two had decided to engage in due to the absence of other residents at the apartment complex’s gym. Although with how dazed you felt right then, you highly doubted you’d actually mind an audience watching you get your back blown out.

Lately, you two found it impossible to keep your hands off of each other, indulging in heavy make-out sessions by the claw machine and a quickie here and there during your missions together.

You sensed one of his arms loosening its hold on your waist to glide along your damp neckline, and tilt your chin up, your eyes meeting your own fucked out reflection in the mirrored wall. Thanks to his impatience, and your own arousal at the mere sight of sweat glistening upon his muscles, neither of you bothered with discarding your clothes. With one swift tug he had pulled your leggings and panties down to the ankles, freed his own red, hard member from the shorts that still hung low on his hips, and begun pounding your core.

Your legs quivered under the force of the rutting, and if not for his arms, you would’ve stumbled to the floor long ago.

Thankfully, Xavier took note of your struggle and pushed you towards the mirror. And you complied, wobbling ahead on shaky feet, his cock still buried inside your slick oozing folds.

He guided your arms to rest against the cool glass of the mirror, glazed blue eyes meeting yours through the reflection as his hands returned to your waist, wordlessly asking if you were alright. Asking if he could continue to fuck you senseless against the mirror.

The mere gesture aroused you even more (if that was even humanly possible). Had you asked him to stop then and there, he would have, regardless of his own need for release. It made you want to love him even more than you already did. Be good for him as he was for you.

So you arched your back for him and nodded your head ever so slightly. And with the permission granted, he immediately snapped his hips into your ass, causing a particularly loud moan to escape your swollen lips in spite of your attempts at keeping your voice low.

Xavier leaned his face to your nape. In the mirror you watched his teeth nibbling along your skin as he plunged deeper. Then he pulled back, and plunged in once more. Pulled back; plunged in. Pulled back again; plunged in, pistoning into you faster than ever.

Your head spun, overwhelmed by the pleasurable sensations of your cunt clenching around his length, molding your walls to commit the shape of his cock to memory.

“Xav– ahhhh!”

“No one’s here. You can yell or scream if you’re tired.” He whispered tenderly yet his pace became relentless at the same time to force the screams out of you anyways.

“uhh..uhhh..unnhhhh!!!” You sobbed with every thrust.

Seems like only yesterday when you used to feel shy at the mere idea of something as intimate as sex. Yet here you were— lips parted as you rested your head against the mirror, drool smearing the glass, and eyes bleary with desire.

Xavier’s pace became frenetic, his brows knitting as he sensed his orgasm building up right along with yours. His arms came up to entangle his fingers with your own on the mirror and despite the ache in your thighs, you moved your hips in response, trying to meet him moan for moan, thrust for thrust.

“Mmm..you feel so good, angel..” His hot breaths fanned your face as he huffed in his abraded tone. “Let’s come together..yeah?”

And you followed his gentle command, your cunt spasming and contracting around him as he spurted rope after rope of his seed inside you. You felt some of it leaking down your legs and soiling your panties that were still stuck around your ankles.

Xavier pressed his lips affectionately to your cheek. “We should workout more often.”

Your legs nearly gave out at that and you chuckled despite the exhaustion. “After all this time, this is what motivates you to workout?”

He smiled, his skin flushed beautifully in the afterglow of your indecent activities. “Anything motivates me as long as you are involved.”

» MASTERLIST «

[xqueen-of-disasterx]

Enemy

Kinktober day 3

Paring: Spiderwoman!reader x Venom!Nat

Warnings: SMUT, dub-con, fingering, tendril sex, Venom forming a dick, (I’m sorry), degradation, humiliation, public sex, breeding kink, nipple stimulation, orgasm control,

!Disclaimer English is not my first language so please excuse any grammar or spelling errors. This story is completely fictional!

A/N: I’m very sorry if you read this Lewis

Masterlist- Kinktober

The rain was purring onto the dirty streets of New York washing away all the grease left by the city however the read dirt stayed; they had to be taken care of by you. You were Spiderwoman since you had turned 17 a few years back and since then the streets were your life. Your mornings, your noons, your evenings even your nights had been spent cleaning this city from its dirt. There was simply no time of a committed relationship, even though you had tried and failed with what you thought would be the love of your life. Unsurprisingly being a superhero barley covered anyones bills not like it had been implied by the comics you had spent your whole youth reading. You couldn’t quit either Spiderwoman was a symbol. A symbol of hope and kindness when every institution failed you had been there protecting those who couldn’t do it themselves.

Sitting alone in your one bedroom apartment you were certain that being a super hero in high school was a lot easier than making it your profession in adulthood. Your head was planted upon your desk your eyes threatening to fall asleep from sheer exhaustion. You barely listened to the frequency of the police radio. You were quickly awoken by the news of a black human like monster being sighted by civilians. You were in your suit in record time pulling your mask over your tired eyes before swinging into the cold city. You swung over the busy traffic of the the New York streets.

Arriving at the described location you realised that the object of your attention was no where to be found. Not a trace from it left. Your curiosity got the better of you. In your years of being a superhero and fighting against the green goblin and people made of sand nothing could shock you anymore. Oh how wrong you were. But this was something something, new something exciting which could potentially make your boring life a bit more exciting.

The police was just as clueless as you were so you started to search around the area yourself. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until you made out a red headed woman alone in a dark alleyway. You came closer to her this probably wouldn’t help your search but she had a strange aura around her pulling you in. She seemed a bit nervous perhaps her green eyes fixated on your athletic form. She looked older than you maybe in her mid 30s but you weren’t sure.

“Can I help you this is a dangerous neighbourhood.” The woman face changed to a smirk “Well” she started “I’m sure you can help me in a personal way” Flirting and especially sleeping with civilians was off limits but you were desperate. It had been months since the last time you had another woman at your mercy. “I’m sure I can be of great-” you could see the womans eyes widen as she looked over your shoulder in the same moment your spider senses went off. Was something behind you? You turned around to see nothing you were confused for a second until you felt a force wrestling you onto the ground. You managed to turn to onto your back only to face a black slimy creature. You stared into its big white eyes as it slowly opened it mouth to reveal its many white razor sharp teeth. It seemed to have multiple rows of them all tripping in salvia. Its velvet tongue had an impressive size as it hovered above your masked face. Salvia tripped onto your face as you tried to move away.

“You were right Nat… she is stupid” the creature above you remarked in its deep voice. “Hey” you squeaked higher than you had intended to. The goo pulled back to reveal the beautiful red head again. “Oh look V she looks so shocked” she snarled at you pulling her arms from the black slime but your hands remained pinned to the concrete. Her hand gripped onto your mask pulling it up as you shook your head to side violently. Never once did you get unmasked but she did it gripping onto your chin so you couldn’t move. “You are a pretty one spider girl.” “Fuck you” you bit back. She responded in laughter making you blush in humility. “Oh no I’m gonna fuck you sweet girl” she said in between laughter.

***

“Please” you whimpered desperately your face pressed against the hard brick wall. The position you were in was beyond embarrassing. Complete naked bend forward black tendrils running over your naked form with her fingers deep inside of you pressing against you g spot. “Who would’ve guessed the symbol of hope would be such a slut. Look you are dripping down your legs like a penny whore” she slapped your ass making you cry out for more. “More” you whined feeling the tendrils rolling over your nipples.

She moved her fingers at her brutal pace curling and twisting as you clenched down. “I- I’m gonna-” “Should we let her V” she asked her companion. “Cum” you did on command releasing your slick over Nats hand and wrists.

Natasha pulled her hand from your heat making you whine at the lost. “I think she can do another” the goo formed a dick around Nats hips which you only realised once its big head was already pressed against your tight hole. “I can’t” you lied as she pushed in “Your body wants it I know it Spidey” she chuckled pushing in until she bottomed you out. She let you adjust before picking up her pace. She fucked into you hard and fast. “I’m gonna fuck you pregnant you little slut” she bit into your neck the tendrils working magic on your already overstimulated clit. “Fuck I’m gonna cum” she picked up her pace one last time before releasing her with cum inside of you.

The tendrils pulled back from your cum mixing into each other before tripping down your thighs. She pulled her pants back up leaving you panting against the wall. As a last act of affection she helped you back in your suit before leaving.

“Until next time spider girl”

:)

I do not own these characters all rights go to Marvel

[golden-moony]

king of my heart | smau

pairings: lando norris x fem!reader | pato o'ward x fem!reader

summary: y/n is an F1 content creator loved among the grid and the fans, and more than one person ships her with lando due to how close they've always been. but when y/n goes to her first IndyCar race, the last thing she expects is being involved in rumours with another mclaren driver.

warnings: love triangle? kinda.

author's note: i might turn this into a mini series but i'll see how it goes. btw english it's not my first language so if there's any grammatical error please let me know so i can fix it, ty🧡 now enjoy!

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

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yourusername posted to their story!

[caption 1; it's indycar weekend in Long Beach, babyyyy!] [caption 2; time for practice and snacks🌞]

patriciooward

liked by indycar, zbrownceo, yourusername, and 83,527 others!

patriciooward INDY500 colors and back in the streeetz🤩

user1 lookin' goooood🔥

arrowmclaren it'll look even better with confetti covering it😉 user2 admin knows a win is coming!! 💪

user3 Este es tu año, cabrón! VAMOOOOS 🇲🇽

user4 is it a requirement to be handsome to drive in mclaren? cause daaaamn

user5 same girl, same

yourusername black is the new papaya fr 🔥 can't wait for tomorrow!

patriciooward hopefully you'll be wearing #5 user6 OMG?!?!!!??? yourusername can't show favoritism! i'm a professional, sir patriciooward it can be our secret then 😉 user7 OH MY- HELLOOOOO? user8 landonorris come get your girl bro!!! user9 omfg mr o'ward i wasn't familiar with your game user10 y/n sweety, wrong mclaren driver landonorris 🤨 user11 she really said i want a mclaren, don't care which one😭 user12 and she's so real for that

user13 let's goooo Pato!! 🦆🧡

user14 y/n and pato's exchange?? NEW SHIP HAS ARRIVED!

user15 i feel like i'm betraying my roots but pato and y/n would be the it couple fr user16 SO TRUE user17 pato and lando deserve sooo much better.

user18 NOT LANDO REPLYING TO THE COMMENT 😂😂

user19 f1twt is about to have a blast with this one 🍿 user20 they already have #teampato and #teamlando hashtags going on 😭😭

yourusername posted to their story!

[caption 1; preparation for ✨qualy day✨] [caption 2; that's how you arrive in style]

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, alexanderrossi, shelovesformula1, and 76,088 others!

yourusername First IndyCar race ✅ can't explain how incredible this weekend was! I’ve had the pleasure of chatting to so many cool people, discovering so much about this series and meeting so many of you! 🧡 can't wait to show you everything soon 😘

user1 what a babeeeee 😍

frosenqvist so great to meet you! hope you come to another one again soon! 🏁

arrowmclaren we second this! user2 she's an indy girl now 😎 tkanaan especially after all the fun we had last night😜 yourusername oh i'll definitely come back for more races (and parties ofc🙊) user3 she's part of the family now! love to see it user4 mclaren team 🤝 us: being in love with y/n

user5 PATO INTERVIEW??!! WE WON

lissiemackintosh so happy to have met you!! 💖

yourusername can't wait to see u again 🥹 user6 MY FAVES 🤩🤩 user7 girls supporting girls 💞 user8 we need a colab!

landonorris y/n get out of there. That's not your family!

carlossainz55 y/n please hurry, the kid has missed you maxverstappen1 y/n please hurry, we can't stand him anymore maxfewtrell y/n please hurry, he gets whiny when you're not around alex_albon y/n please hurry, oscar is about to commit crime oscarpiastri that is correct, so please y/n hurry landonorris when i asked y'all to back me up, this is NOT what i meant 🙄 yourusername if it helps at all, i've miss you all 🫶 (except Lando) landonorris i hate y'all fr user9 this is the kind of content i pay my internet bill for 😂

user10 literal queen 👑

user11 she couldn't become lando's wag so now she goes to indy to try to find a man lol such a clout chaser

user12 girl stfu she's literally just doin her job user13 try not to sound so bitter next time 💋 user14 get a life, hater

user15 MOTHER IS MOTHERING

user16 i don't think we're talking enough about that last photo

user17 RIGHT?! Y/N X PATO LET'S GOO user18 nah y/n x lando >>>>>>>>

patooward Indy looks good on you 💯 i wonder who took that amazing first pic

yourusername credits to you, amateur😘 user19 you can't convince me they're not flirting user20 i truly don't know if i wanna be pato or y/n... i only know i'd hate to be lando rn 😭 user21 y/n and lando are the endgame user22 Y/N X PATO TILL THE END

landonorris posted to his story!

[caption; safe and sound where she belongs]

sooo.... y'all want part 2?