#for me anyway!!!!! having a very normal weekend so far

[rebeccadumaurier]

going insane about murderbot and ART hours are 24/7

[fangomango]

Love the way that I'm so sick I want to die but I still have to go to school even though last I check most doctors didn't recommend that

[toastsnaffler]

trying to watch all of us strangers and it's just making me cry really hard this is why I don't do romance movies WAH

[ot8archivesblog]

Party

꒰ ͜͡➸ Pairing: Minho x Female Reader

꒰ ͜͡➸ Genre: College AU, Smut

꒰ ͜͡➸ Warnings: (Obviously) NSFW content, alcohol, mentions of drugs, cigarettes, smoking, drinking, explicit content, overstimulation, fingering, pet names, praise (like good girl)

꒰ ͜͡➸ w/c: 3,5k

꒰ ͜͡➸Masterlist

So I read this request a day ago and thought of it as really interesting because I'm currently writing a story which is similar to that, so I wanted to give this specific scenario a go.

You haven't mentioned which Gender the Reader should have, so because of the roommate being female (and as far as I know there are no mixed rooms) I will assume that the Reader is female as well.

This is actually my first attempt to write NSFW so I hope it'll be good and let me know how you think of it.

Have fun <3

(Not proof read because it's 1 am and I was too lazy so please excuse any mistakes <3)

Request by @the-unknown-daisy

Your bag hit the ground the moment you finally closed the door to your dorm room.

Your best friend was currently sitting on her bed, painting her nails, while you let yourself fall onto your bed.

"Everything okay?" She turned her head to you for a second, taking in the little ball you had curled into, before she went back to concentrating on the task ahead.

She knew you had been like this for a few weeks now and she didn't know what was bothering you.

You normally always talked with her about stuff like that, but this time you decided against it. Exam stress was getting to you and you felt as if you weren't doing enough, but it felt stupid to voice it like that.

You knew she would understand and support you, but you still didn't confide in her.

She had been so happy these past few weeks, always meeting up with Changbin and spending time with him, that you didn't want to spoil her mood with yours.

Changbin is a really nice guy and he was making her so happy, sometimes you envied her.

Of course you wished them nothing but happiness, but it often happened, that when you saw them interact, you wished to be able to have someone like that in your life too.

You weren't lucky with boys though. All your relationships had ended on a bad note and you were just annoyed by it at this point.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Are you getting ready for something?" Stupid question. It's Friday. There would obviously be a campus party somewhere.

Students could barely contain their desire to drink and party all week, of course no one would miss the weekend parties.

Normally you would go as well, not as often as your best friend, but also quite often. However you didn't really feel like it the past few weeks and you didn't want to drag anyone down with you.

"Yep, the party is at Changbin's dorm this time. I would have either spend the night with him or at a party anyway so it's pretty convenient." Your best friend answered, while she finally closed the bottle of nail polish.

"You're coming with me, by the way." She nonchalantly added, as she blew on her nails.

"Wait, what? When did I say yes to this plan of yours?" You tilted your head, confusion taking over your features.

Had you promised to go?

"Well you didn't. But I told Changbin I would bring you along. You've been quite down these past few weeks and I wanna cheer you up." She got up from her bed and went over to yours, sitting down next to you.

"Plus you know Changbin's roommate?" Of course you did. Who didn't know him.

"You mean Lee Minho?" Her face lit up at that.

"Exactly! Isn't that enough reason to come? He'll be hanging out with Changbin, I'll be hanging out with Changbin and you'll be hanging out with me." She beamed at you and you could only sigh.

Of course, like everyone, you thought that Minho was very attractive. Hell, their entire group of friends was. But you still felt rather down and meeting someone like him in this condition, wasn't going to get you any plus points with him.

You turned to your friend to tell her that you didn't want to come, when you noticed her smiling down at her phone.

"I'm Telling Changbin you're coming! He missed having you around too." At that point you couldn't say no any longer.

She was being so happy over the fact that you could spend the night together, that you didn't want to let her down again.

"Fine, I'll come."

~

The last few hours had been spend with getting ready and by now, you were already tired.

You didn't know how you'd get through the night, but your best friend was convinced that if you looked hot, you would certainly feel hot and she wasn't wrong.

You did actually feel better, if you didn't think about the tiredness seeping into your bones. An energy drink would fix that.

Your best friend was wearing a pretty white top, that stopped right above her belly-button and a short pinks skirt with high heels.

Her makeup was close to that, but not too much pink.

While you were wearing tight black jeans and a black top that had only one sleeve and also stopped right above your belly-button. However it was also V-formed, showing more of your cleavage than your besties top did.

The dorm wasn't too far so you made your way over there, slowly strolling through the night, which was immediately illuminated by the party lights.

The music was already at full power and you could nearly hear it on the entire campus.

Professors thankfully never minded, so they could keep doing their little parties.

You followed your friend, never letting go of her hand as she lead you inside the dorm, finally meeting up with Changbin.

"Hey baby, you're here." He pulled her closer by her waist and planted a soft kiss onto her lips, which probably would have turned more passionate if you hadn't been standing next to them.

"Hey there little one, I missed you." The taller male greeted you by ruffling your hair up.

"Missed you too." You replied while your eyes scanned the room.

It was already extremely full and it was only 11 pm. You didn't want to know how full it could get.

You had been to quite a few parties but you were always amazed how many people actually fit into these dorms.

They weren't small but they weren't exactly big either.

Changbin had been playing beer pong with some guys until we had interrupted him. So he resumed in doing so, while one of his arms was securely wrapped around your friends waist.

"Binnie." Your best friend whined and he chuckled.

"Sorry guys, finish without me." He turned to her and kissed her, before leading you two away.

"Minho just wrote me telling me he's on his way back with Chan." Changbin commented as he made his way through the crowd and into the kitchen, offering us something to drink.

"Where did they go?"

"They went to get the others. Jeongin was at his parents for a few hours and Chan and Minho went to get him." The older answered, while giving us two glasses.

Not even seconds after he had given them to us, the crowd outside got louder.

"Seems like they're back." Changbin chuckled and went to meet up with them. We followed him closely.

"Hey, look who is finally out of her prison." Chan joked as he side-hugged you.

You had become friends with most of them after your best friend started dating Changbin so this was pretty normal behaviour.

"Sorry, sorry, didn't know I was missed so much." You chuckled as you leaned into Chan's side, when your eyes found Minho's.

You never knew what he was thinking. Could never figure him out. He was a mystery to you and many others.

Chan left first, going to greet some friends while Changbin, Minho, your friend and you made your way to the terrace to get some air.

A lot of people were out here as well but you all sat down on the couch.

"Let's play a game." Someone suggested and everyone agreed on truth or dare. The typical party game that everyone loved to participate in when their brains were non-functional.

You were sipping on your drink while the game commenced.

Till now you had been playing it safe, mostly taking truth, as you knew not many would pick up on it due to being drunk. However someone did pick up on it.

"Three time in a row. You have to pick dare." Minho said as he leaned back on the couch, his eyes fixed on you.

It had been Changbin who had spun the bottle, so why was he interfering?

You said but complied, picking dare this time, which made Changbin grin.

"Kiss Minho."

You were left speechless for a moment. Of course you knew how the game worked, but you hadn't expected this from Changbin. He always went easy on you, which is why you hadn't really been worried when the bottle picked you.

"What, never kissed anyone? I won't bite unless you want me to." Minho commented, a smirk finding its way onto his lips.

You got up from your place, walking over to Minho.

People were sitting next to him so you couldn't do so to kiss him. While you were still contemplating what to do, his hand found your waist and pulled you onto his lap.

"Not so shy." How could you not be, when you were about to kiss the Lee Minho?

Your thighs were on either side of him, as his hands still kept a steady grip on your waist. You leaned in closer, stopping right before your lips could touch his.

At this point both of your eyes were fixed on the others lips and you could feel his smirk on yours.

"What are you waiting for, Princess?"

That's all it took for you to connect your lips.

The kiss was slow at first. Your lips still finding the perfect rhythm to move against each other. However, it didn't take long before the kiss got more heated. He bit your lower lip, asking for entrance which you immediately complied with.

His tongue found its way into your space, exploring your mouth while you tilted your head to deepen the kiss.

It didn't take long for his tongue to find yours, his hands moving up and down your waist at this point while you could feel that you were sitting atop his member, as he got hard.

Your hands found their way into his hair, holding onto him as you moved your hips for a second, making him bite your tongue at the movement which made you gasp in return.

You both parted from each other, a delicate string of saliva still connecting your lips to each other, as you tried to breathe in as much air as possible. This being the only reason you parted in the first place.

The game had commenced while you two had been shamelessly making out and you finally realised that you two weren't alone.

You immediately got off his lap and went back to your place, however your lips were still burning with the feeling of his on them.

The game got boring soon and most disappeared back inside, including Changbin and your friend, while you were now sitting next to Minho, still outside.

He was smoking a cigarette right now, accompanying it with a glass of vodka.

You never really smiled but at this point and the level of drunk you currently were at, you were curious.

"Let me try."

Minho turned his eyes to you, the cigarette still on his lips. He seemed to contemplate it for a moment, until a smirk formed on his lips.

"Sure, but allow me to try something." You didn't really mind. He is Changbin's friend so you trusted him as well.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, before his long fingers found their way onto your chin, pulling you closer without a word. They put slight pressure on your chin, which made you part your lips and you immediately understood, parting them a little more.

He came closer to you, your nose nearly touching his as he leaned his head to the side, to blow the smoke inside of your mouth. You inhaled, but he didn't give you a lot of time to think as his lips smashed onto your again.

The smoke not being the only thing that went into your mouth as his tongue followed suit. You held onto his shirt, returning the kiss while his hands found their way to your ass, squeezing them for a second before he lifted you onto his lap by your waist.

You immediately adjusted to the situation, sitting up slightly. Your hands finding his neck as you returned the kiss. Your tongue finding his, the fight for dominance not taking long as Minho immediately won it.

You both parted again, out of breathe. It was way too hot between you two. And you both wanted nothing more than to taste the other.

Without a word he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his torso as he carried you to his room.

His room was a no-go zone at parties like these. Everyone knew that. The moment he entered you noticed that the room was empty. He closed the door behind you two, locking it before he resumed his way to his bed, letting you fall on it.

Minho didn't wait for another second, his lips were on your neck this time, as his hands found your waist again. His lips were leaving butterfly kisses all over your neck before he finally found a spot he was satisfied with.

His lips latched onto the soft skin and he sucked on it. Gaining a sweet moan from your lips. He grinned, finally letting go of the skin, admiring the dark hickey that was forming.

"You're okay with this, right?" He asked, just to be completely sure, before you two went any further.

Your nod was more than clear, however that wasn't enough for Minho.

"I need your words, Princess." Those words went straight to your core and it needed a lot of self-control to not cum untouched.

"Yes, please." You didn't need to tell him twice. He removed your shirt from you, his hands immediately unclasping your bra as well as his lips found their way onto your chest.

Soft butterfly kisses littered it at first, before his mouth found one of your nipples catching them between his teeth. At first he softly licked it, watching goosebumps erupt all over your skin before he softly bit it, again pulling a moan out of your throat.

Your sweet sounds were going straight to his member but he tried to control his desires, wanting to prep you enough for him.

You could feel yourself getting wet and it only got worse the more he continued. You needed to feel him inside of you, but you could barely form thoughts, let alone words. Everything felt so good for your touch starved body. And it didn't help that Minho was so perfect at everything he did.

He stopped torturing your breasts, continuing his journey down, a soft kiss on your belly-button and you felt his teeth on the hem of your pants. His hands skilfully opened them before he pulled them down and threw them away.

Just as he had done with your shirt and bra.

"Already so wet for me. What a good little, Kitten." A whimper escaped your lips the moment you felt his hand on your inner thigh, moving closer to your heated core.

"Minho." You managed to moan but the boy only smirked as he moved your drenched panties aside to let one finger graze your folds. He was only rubbing them slowly, but this was enough for you to arch your back already. His fingers felt so good, you could barely wait for them to finally enter you.

"You want me so bad?" He looked up at you as you nodded as much as you could. "I will need your words, Princess."

"Yes, please Minho-..." A moan escaped your lips as his finger entered you. Your hands found the blanket behind you, as you had nothing else to hold onto.

He moved his finger slowly at first but the moment he felt you losing your mind his pace picked up, hitting all the right places.

You were so close to your release when you felt a second finger entering you. You pushed your head into the mattress, trying to ground your thoughts but everything felt so hot. You could barely wait any longer.

"I'm so close." You whined which only made him pick up his pace.

"The cum for me, Princess." Seconds passed after his sentence before your orgasm came crashing down on you. He helped you ride it out until he pulled out his fingers, licking them clean.

"you taste so good." He chuckled.

"You made such a mess, only because of my fingers?" You blushed. "Let's see what a mess you'll make for more." He knew he prepped her enough so he finally got rid of his clothes as well, letting his member finally out of its confinement and you understood why he had to prep you so good.

His member was a sight to behold and you could feel yourself getting wet again only at the sight of it.

He got on top of you, pulling a condom out of his drawer before you stopped him.

"It's fine, I'm on birth control." You needed to feel him inside of you, without a condom.

"Are you sure?" He asked, wanting to be completely sure that you were okay with this.

"Yes."

He threw the pack of condoms away, not wanting to waste another second on them before he connected his lips with yours again.

The kiss was as messy as the first ones but this time you could feel him positioning himself at your entrance.

He broke the kiss, his eyes finding yours. Analysing if there was any doubt before he pushed the tip in slowly.

Your warm walls immediately welcoming him.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He moaned as he slowly kept pushing his member deeper. You were holding onto him, your nails surely leaving marks on his back as your back softly arched. You needed him inside of you, all of him.

He finally bottomed in, giving you a moment to adjust to his size before he pulled out nearly completely only to push it inside a little more forcefully this time.

His groan and your moan mixed as he kept a fixed pace. Your back arched as his member hit your sweet spot every time he pushed it back inside of you. His hands holding your hips so that he could burry himself as deep as possible.

You felt so good around him, your pussy clenching around him as you felt yourself getting closer.

One of his hands moved to your clit, softly rubbing it as he thrust into you, making you scream his name out in pleasure.

You were happy it was so nosy outside, or everyone would have probably heard you two. It was impossible to contain your moans.

"I'm close." He notified, hid hold on your waist tightening.

"Please come inside." You moaned, wanting to feel the warmth of his cum inside of you, to fill you up with it.

"You you want me to fill you up with my cum?" You didn't have to look at him to see the grin.

"Such a needy, whiny brat. If I had known this we would have done this earlier. So good for me. You better take it all. Every drop." He chuckled as his thrusts got sloppier and harder.

You were close, your pussy clenching around his member which made him groan.

"Clenching so good around me, such a good girl."

This only threw you over the edge, your pussy clenching around him as you arched your back, your orgasm hitting you like a truck for the second time.

He helped you ride it out, his thrusts not faltering as his pace only picked up, indicating that he was getting closer to his release.

You felt overstimulated, your pussy was burning as you tried to match him but there was no need, as he came only a few moments after you had.

His hot cum filling your walls as he held your hips still to push his member as deep inside of you as he could.

His back was arched as he threw his head back, your pussy so tight around him that it felt as if it was squeezing every drop out of his members.

"So greedy." He chuckled as he pulled out, admiring the mess you two had made.

"I told you to take it all, Princess."

He teased as he noticed some of his cum sliding out of your hole, only to push int inside with his finger again, making you moan in the process.

Your clit was extremely sensitive and every touch felt burning hot.

"Min, mhh." His eyes focused back on your fucked out state and he grinned, pulling his finger out of you and in front of your lips.

"Taste our mess." You immediately parted your lips taking his fingers into your mouth and licking them clean.

"What an obedient Kitten."

You were exhausted at this point, hoping that he wouldn't make you leave now, but it seemed as if he had no intention to do so.

He pulled you closer to him, covering you both with a blanket.

"Rest for now, let's clean this mess up later." A soft kiss was placed onto the back of your neck as you back was pressed to his chest, his hands secured around your torso.

It didn't take long for your eyes to shut and for you to fall asleep next to him.

No one had ever made you feel as good as Minho had, and you were certainly hoping this wasn't the first and last time you did this.

[anundyingfidelity]

WHAT IF...? — Soldier Boy/Ben (2)

Summary: Ben, now as your husband, gives up Vought for good and retires along with you far away from the spotlight and the big cities once you're pregnant with your first child. He knows better than to make the same mistakes his father did.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader

Word count: 900ish.

Warnings: none, soft Ben, OOC!Ben? idk, this is sweet.

GEN MASTERLIST! — DRABBLES MASTERLIST!

taglist is here!

PART 2

1990

The way back home was tiring to say the least. You and Ben had a weekend shopping schedule. It wasn’t the best idea John had for a funny Saturday, but you could tell he enjoyed being at the mall. He was six already, full of energy, joy, and eager to discover the wonders of the world.

From the passenger seat you moved slightly just to check on your son. He was already snoring in the back seat, drooling and sleeping peacefully as if it was his own bed. The sight of him just made you smile.

“He had a great time, huh?” Ben asked, giving you a side glance. He got better at driving after you gave birth, which you were so thankful for.

“Yeah, I mean, he’d definitely pick a baseball game instead but this is good for him,” you said back. “He’s been at home too much, don’t you think?”

“Hey, it's school break! Do you really love your kid?” Ben teased with a playful smile, you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up. All I mean is that I’d just like him to have friends and talk to other kids, do the normal kindergarten stuff… That’s all.”

Ben nodded more for himself. There have been a couple of weeks already, and he was more than happy to spend time with the little brat, but he got your point. You didn’t want him to be alone and the teacher at kindergarten had told both of you John was having some trouble with making friends and socializing in general. He was shy, but smart and creative, but even the teacher had some issues when talking to him at first. John wasn’t like that at home and it hurted you just a bit.

“Probably we should call Janine and some of the parents that were there in the last parent conference, you still have their numbers. We can do something for our kids to meet outside school,” you suggested.

“I think those moms were hitting on me,” your husband said, taking a last turn on the highway before heading home. He chuckled as low as he could when you patted his arm. You got pretty jealous at the last meeting when those ladies approached him, almost swooning. Even John’s teacher looked like she’d faint anytime. “What? I’m Soldier Boy anyway.”

“You’re an idiot.”

He parked the car outside your house after an hour of driving. There were some cons of living in the outskirts of the city, but as long as his family got the calm and green life around, driving for so long was not a problem.

You took John between your arms, careful of not waking him up. He weighed more and more each year, reminding you he wasn’t a baby anymore. He was taller, a good talker at least with you and Ben, he liked seeing the squirrels in the trees that surrounded the house, and he was very, very smart.

It felt like a day ago you gave birth to him, that he started babbling nonsense, and mere seconds that he started walking little baby steps… Now, his eyes were bright blue, his hair long and blonde, his cheeks sprinkled with freckles just like his dad…

Most of his factions were just like Ben’s mother, and she was beautiful from the old pictures he’d show you before. You were happy John was like an exact copy of her, you knew how much Ben loved her and how much her death hurted for him. John was like a reincarnation of her spirit, now sleeping in your arms.

Ben started to take out the grocery bags and some other stuff you had gotten yourself from the city, most of them puzzles, board games, and teddies John picked back there. As much as you tried to get him to reason to not buy unnecessary things, he would just spoil John a lot. But you understood why he did it. He was nothing like his father, he had time to learn how to be a better man, how to manage his own feelings and slowly, teach John to be a good man, even at his young age. You felt so proud of him, watching him discharge the bags on the kitchen counter with John clinging to you, deep in slumber, his little arms now wrapped around your neck to not let go.

When finished, Ben looked at you with a soft look on his eyes. You, holding his son, was a picture he’d never grown tired of. He would hit himself to confirm it wasn’t just a beautiful dream; it was real. You and John were very real, and he was thankful for giving up the superhero shit already. This could never compare to anything Vought offered to him before; what he built in there with you was everything he ever needed.

“I’m gonna take him to his room,” you mumbled, but before you could walk up the stairs, Ben approached you.

“I’ll do,” he announced in an equally low voice.

“You sure? I don’t want him to wake up-”

“John sleeps like a trunk, trust me,” Ben said, taking the kid softly away from your arms. John immediately wrapped his arms around his dad’s neck, hiding his face on the crook of his neck. He was so exhausted after the trip.

“Right,” you nodded. “Thanks, I love you.”

Ben gave you a charming smile, one that you never could grow tired of. He leaned down to kiss your lips softly, his new and trimmed beard tickling your skin a little.

“I’ll be here in a couple of minutes to help you,” he said.

You watched him disappear on the stairs to the second floor, John deeply sleeping in his strong arms, hugging each other.

Weekend trips like this were monotonous sometimes, but it was okay because you always came back home with your boys after all.

Soldier Boy taglist:

@delaynew @k-slla @thesilmarillionblog @onlyangel-444 @mrsjenniferwinchester

@daisy-the-quake @jackles010378 @mostlymarvelgirl @deans-spinster-witch @drasticemotions

@stoneyggirl2 @sapnaploves

@believeinthefireflies95 @demodemo909

[auras-moonstone]

Hi!! So the Canucks just lost to the oilers 😔 could we get some more Ethan or Jack x Hockey??

Or sm cowboy Jack related yk bc of his most recent ig post🤭

Anywayyy hope you are having a great start of The Weekend, love your writing 🫶🏼💋

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ sparking up my darkest night — ethan landry

ᡣ𐭩 word count: 3k

ᡣ𐭩 pairing: cowboy!ethan landry x pop star!fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary: y/n goes to her grandparents’ hometown to hide from the drama, and she meets ethan, a cowboy who helps her through the darkness as they fall in love with each other.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings: fluff. cheesiness.

after long, exhausting hours of driving, y/n arrived to the minuscule town where she was going to hide for undefined amount of time. according to her publicist, disappearing from the public eye was the best choice, primarily for her mental health.

the two grammy award winner fell victim to the manipulation of another famous singer who, using his power as a big figure in the industry, twisted a story and went as far as editing conversations and calls to paint y/n as a villain.

and it had worked like a charm. at the moment, y/n’s name was trend on every platform and the hateful comments outlawed the positive ones, that were practically non-existent. people who already disliked her took the situation as an opportunity to unleash their hatred and some of their fans even turned their backs on her.

the castle y/n had built crumbled overnight, and so she decided to hide in the town her grandparents grew up in and try to pretend she was a normal person and her career and future weren’t slipping through her fingers like sand.

y/n stood right next to the car as her eyes inspected the house from outside. the flowers on the front garden were very much alive, the grass was perfectly cut, the windows were practically glowing. there was no aspect of the house that indicated it had been uninhabited for the last five years, and it sent y/n in a spiral because why was the place in such good conditions?

“y/n?” a boyish voice pulled her out of thoughts.

the girl went stiff and adjusted her sunglasses. “um, no?” she turned around to find a boy her age and a brown and white horse by his side.

amusement filled his eyes. “you are not sure if you’re y/n?” he asked, evidently trying to hold his laugh. “what’s with the big glasses and the bandeau?”

the pop-star instinctively ran her hand over the silk cloth. “i’m undercover.”

“in a vuitton bandeau and driving a benz? hate to break it to you, but that’s not how you go undercover. does your team hate you or something?”

“wouldn’t be surprised.” she muttered under her breath. “anyways, how do you know my name, smartass?”

“i’m ethan landry, nice to meet you.” he extended his hand for a shake and his calloused fingers met hers. to his surprise, they were calloused as well, and then he remembered that y/n played way too many instruments so it made sense. “my parents are friends of yours, they asked me to check if you’d arrived safely and to help you settle.”

“oh, that’s nice of you. thank you.” y/n smiled gently.

“no problem at all. at your service, ma’am.” he jokingly tipped his cowboy hat.

y/n laughed. “nice hat, want to exchange?”

ethan scoffed. “get that overpriced thing away from me, i’d rather stay true to my roots.”

“whatever, cowboy. are you going to introduce me to this gorgeous creature?” she eyed the horse with soft eyes.

“i already told you, my name’s ethan.” he winked, making her roll her eyes. but the boy was charming, there was not denying that. “this is my horse, pegasus, and his favourite song of yours is white horse.”

her shoulders shook with laughter and ethan’s heart skipped a beat. that sound was as angelic as her voice. but he quickly locked those thoughts away, he could not go there. she was not only here for a short period of time, she was also beyond untouchable.

“hi, pegasus. aren’t you the cutest horse ever? yes, you are.” she baby-talked the gigantic animal while petting him. “i love your name.” the horse made a sound and the next thing she knew, he licked the side of her face. “aww! it’s nice to meet you too. you’re as charming as your owner, huh?”

“thanks for the compliment but i’m not going to lick your face.” ethan joked, but he was screaming from the inside.

y/n sighed, feigning disappointment. “well, i tried.”

they got to know each other a bit more as ethan helped her get settled in the house, which he knew like the back of his hand because he was the reason why the house looked good as new. her parents payed him to clean the house and take care of the garden.

“well, i’ll leave you to start getting familiar with your new home for the time being. i wrote down my number and sticked it to the fridge. you can call me or text me any time, i live five minutes away so it’s no inconvenience for me. don’t hesitate to reach out, okay? whether you need help with something or if you need a friend to talk to.”

a friend. that sounded so nice. her so called friends from the city let go of her hand as soon as the drama unfolded, not giving her a chance to explain. they didn’t even ask what happened, they just disappeared. they discarded her once her reputation went down the drain.

“hey…” he said softly. she met his gaze and the look in her eyes splitter his heart. he lived in a small town and even though he wasn’t on the phone that much, he didn’t live under a rock. ethan knew the reason behind her escapade, and because of his parents’ friendship with y/n’s family, he knew all those things the singer said about her were fabricated and far from real. “the truth will come out. it always does. you’re allowed to feel sad, and angry, and whatever you’re feeling, but don’t let them bring you down.”

“they already did. my career might be over, everyone hates me, the record is thinking about letting me go because i don’t bring them a good image anymore, i have no friends left. they made me ran away from my home, ethan. i can’t even defend myself because they’re so filled of hatred that they won’t hear my side of the story.”

“so you don’t play the part of the victim, even though you are one. you gather all the awful things they’re saying about you and laugh it off. make it your brand. they can’t use it against you if you embrace the hate.” he said all of those things, and he truly believed it. but at the same time, he had the urge to bring him into his arms and secure her from the outside world.

she pressed her lips in a thin line “that sounds great, ethan. but i don’t know if i can do that.”

he nodded in understanding “and that’s normal. the wounds are still raw, but you’ll get there eventually, because you cannot let them win.”

“you’re kinda wise, cowboy.” she finally smiled.

“thank you, super star. maybe in your next album you can mention a hot cowboy who helped you see reason.”

“oh, do you know any hot cowboys? introduce me please.” she teased him.

ethan gritted his teeth. he did not like the image of her with someone else at all. he had met her two hours ago and he was already having possessive thoughts. ethan was definitely not going to survive y/n. he feared she already had him under her spell. after all, her funny comebacks and soft heart were impossible to resist.

“nah. you already have the best combo in town, the hottest, most charming cowboy—me—, and his sweet sidekick—pegasus.”

y/n shook her head in amusement “you’re so full of yourself.” but she couldn’t deny that she agreed with him.

“more like aware of myself.”

“i don’t know how that hat fits in that big head of yours.”

“it’s custom made, darling.” he winked.

“and pretty ugly, too. here, let me help.” she took off her bandeau and wrapped it around his hat. “now you’re a fancy cowboy.”

“i’m going to be the town’s biggest disappointment.” yet, he didn’t take it off. “i really have to go, but let’s do something tomorrow, okay? maybe i can show you around town.”

she smiled like the cheshire cat. “can i ride a horse?”

“sure, we can borrow my sisters’”

“yay! can’t wait. see you tomorrow, ethan.”

“it’s fancy cowboy for you, super star.” he winked and then left the house.

as she watched both pegasus and ethan disappear from her sight, she realized it had been months since the last time she had smiled so genuinely. and even though she had been in this town for a couple of hours, she already decided it was the best decision she could’ve made.

as soon as ethan caught sight of y/n standing in the porch, he smiled like a little kid. she was adorable, with a basket in hand, short overalls and cowboy boots and excitement lighting up her face.

“dressed for the occasion, i see.” ethan said.

“like it?” she asked, doing a little turn.

“you look gorgeous, y/n.” he answered softly making the singer blush. “though, there’s something missing to complete the outfit.” her curious eyes met his, and he simply smiled as he took a cowboy hat from his bag. he put it on y/n’s head and hummed in content. “now we’re talking.”

“i love it! thank you so much!” y/n didn’t even think before jumping and throwing her arms around his slim waist.

“you’re very welcome.” he murmured, hugging her back. her figure felt so perfect against his, like puzzle pieces. “what’s on the basket?”

“i made cupcakes, a cheesecake and sandwiches. i was thinking we could stop to have a little picnic.”

“that sounds very nice. i know a spot by the lake.“

y/n admired her surroundings. the sun reflecting on the lake, the green grass, the quietness, the tall trees, the animals living so freely. she felt so at ease, not needing to be in high alert for invasive paparazzis or overstepping fans.

“a penny for your thoughts?” ethan asked, curious about what thoughts had her smiling so big.

“it feels so good not being under scrutiny. no hunters with cellphones at sight, i feel so fucking light.”

“you don’t miss the city?” he asked curiously.

“not even a bit.” she answered truthfully. “when the drama began, i realized i have nothing there.“

“what about your friends? boyfriend? girlfriend?”

“no boyfriend or girlfriend.” thank god, ethan screamed internally. “and all my supposed friends turned into smoke. being friends with a liar is not good for their image, and that’s the whole reason why they hung out with me i now realize.”

“fuckers.” he spat angrily. “when your next album breaks all the records they’re going to came back with their tails between their legs and you’re going to laugh at their faces.”

how could someone she had met less than a day ago make her feel so much? “you’re setting the bar too high for my next album. what if it ends up sucking and you have to eat your words?”

he shrugged “easy, you just have to work your ass off so my ego isn’t hurt by not being right.”

“working hard is the way of making a good album? damn, i would’ve never thought of doing that!” they exclaimed sarcastically.

“lucky you met me, then.”

jokes aside, y/n really was lucky. the soft spot on her heart was slowly becoming reserved for him. feelings were already blooming and there’s nothing she could do to stop it.

she really liked how funny he was and god, she was part of hollywood yet she had never encountered someone more breathtakingly beautiful than ethan landry. but the way he constantly made her believe that she could truly get her reputation back? the way he truly had faith in her? that’s what made her certain he was the best of the best.

“would you…” he started the question, then hesitated. y/n raised her eyebrows, urging him to keep going. “would you consider leaving the city to move here?”

“right now? i would say yes, i’d really consider it. but that’s because in l.a everyone is going to shove a camera in my face and ask questions and i wouldn’t be able to go out without hate being thrown at me.”

ethan nodded. “yeah, that makes sense.”

“i guess time will tell.”

“maybe i’ll have to make sure to give you endless reason to stay.”

she had a feeling it wouldn’t take too much work. besides, him living there was enough reason to make her stay.

six months had gone by. everyone wondered where y/n was, if she was going to drop new music, if she was going to show her face, activate her social media again, if she was going to address the drama and explain her side of the story in detail. everyone speculated that she was drowning in her own misery—which they agreed she deserved for being a liar and manipulator—, they had no idea she was going better than she ever had. or that she had just finished writing her comeback album.

“this is amazing, y/n.” ethan said when he finished reading one of the songs. “everyone’s going to love it.”

they were currently sitting in y/n’s living room, just right by the fireplace. they had brought down her mattress and made a fort with the covers and pillows. ethan had begged her to show some of the songs, and she accepted. she was not showing him the ones she had written about him, though.

“i don’t know about that.” she shook her head. “anyways, i’m not doing it to be liked again. i guess the only reason i’m dropping this album is because i don’t want to keep my side of the story to myself. if i want to close this chapter of my life, everything needs to be let out. and i also want my remaining fans to know.”

“you don’t want your career back? you deserve it. you’ve worked so hard to get the spot you had before that jealous prick ruined it.” ethan spat with hatred. honestly, at this point he was more angered by the whole thing than her. it made her heart melt, the way he cared about her.

“i do want my career back, but i don’t want it to be the center of my world anymore. i’ve found other things that brings me joy, too. i don’t want to let go of them.”

ethan pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at her. “and… what are those things?” he asked hope invading his chest.

“picnics next to the lake, taking care of farm animals, riding horses while watching the sunset, just… enjoying my life with no pressure.“ she spoke, then shoot her gaze up, meeting his. “but mostly, i enjoy doing those things with you. having you in this house, making dinner with you, baking, making forts, dancing around the kitchen… you make me want to leave my old life behind.”

ethan smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “there’s nothing i’d love more than for you to stay here with me, but i’d never ask you to give your career up.”

“i know. i know you wouldn’t, and that’s why i like you so much. you’ve been supportive since the beginning. you’re the main reason this album is going to exist. not only because you were my muse, but also because you gave me the strength to want to get my career back.”

“y-your muse? what are you talking about?”

“i only showed you two songs, the album is going to have around sixteen songs. those i showed you are about the drama, but… the concept is going to be about how finding love got me through the drama.”

“finding love? you…?” he would’ve been embarrassed of his high pitched voice if he weren’t so shocked by her choice of word.

she nodded softly, and eyed him hesitantly, trying to figure out if she’d read the signs wrong. next thing y/n knew was ethan rolling on top of her and his soft lips pressing against hers. “i love you. i love you. i love you.”

“i love you, too.” she kissed him back. “eth?” he hummed. “what do you think about the basement?” she asked, making him blink in confusion.

“the basement?”

“yeah, do you think it would be a cool place to build my little recording room?”

his jaw fell open. “what are you saying?”

she traces his face features with her fingertips “i’m saying that i’m moving here. and there’s no way i’m driving to L.A everyday to record the album, i would get too tired and i’d miss you too much.”

“we could move to your apartment until you finish.” he suggested.

“you would move to the city for me?” she asked, getting a bit emotional.

his eyes sparkled. “i would do anything for you.”

“you’re so fucking sweet, but you don’t need to move. i really want to move here, for good. i would probably have to drive a few times a month for important meetings or for interviews, but this is my home. both you and this town.”

he had no words, he simply kissed her softly and then hid his warm face on the crook of her neck. after a long, peaceful silence, he finally asked. “can i read those love songs?”

y/n smiled. “why don’t i play them for you?”

“this is the best day of my fucking life. don’t move, i’ll get your guitar.” he quickly got off her and ran up the stairs like an over-excited puppy.

y/n couldn’t believe what a turn her life has done. a couple of months ago she wished to have a time machine to avoid that call that turned her life into hell. now, she found herself feeling grateful that happened. not only she felt stronger but it also showed her the fake world she had blindly been living in. and most importantly, it brought her to ethan, and she would go through hell thousands of times for him.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 4: The Art of Letting Go

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Only know you love her when (she lets you) go

(In which a still very sadistic writer make things a lot worse but only so they can get a little bit better)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt with very little comfort

Words: 7.9K

TW: Car Accidents, Panic Attacks, Swearing

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I know I'm very, very late with this and I love you all for being so patient. I don't really know how I feel about this chapter but it is what it is. Logistical details are probably a little off but I need things to work for the plot, so try and ignore that. Per usual I did edit (very loosely and I'll probably go back over it later), there are probably typos anyways. And as always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't, and what you'd like to see in the future. Happy reading lovelies and let's get a W this weekend. <3

December 2023

A week or so after they get back from the Cayman Islands, Azzi feels like she’s been sleep-walking through life, everything around her hazy and dull. She religiously sticks to a routine of eat-study-practice-sleep. Except well, sleep isn’t really sleeping. It’s her brain conjuring images of blonde hair and blue eyes and Azzi forcing herself to wake-up from a nightmare that used to be her favourite dream. 

She doesn’t tell anyone what happened, lying to herself it’s because it would be embarrassing and not because it would mean having to face the truth. Still, it doesn’t mean that her teammates can’t piece together little bits. There must be something quite sinister about the air around her, because none of her normally nosy and eager-to-help sisters try to weasel any information out of Azzi. They act like they always have, only sharing worried looks behind her back when the façade of i’m doing fine slips momentarily when she thinks no one’s watching. 

And then that façade goes to hell over the span of a couple of hours. 

It starts with the inevitable breakup with Zoe. At first Azzi avoids it, making up excuses as to why she can’t see her girlfriend. Selfishly, there’s a part of her that wants to keep Zoe, keep a girl who would never leave, never make her feel anything less than (or more than) just content. But it’s not fair, Azzi knows that, and it’s why she practises her it’s not you, it’s me speech to perfection in front of the mirror. When she goes to message Zoe that she's coming over, the text chain causes a pinch of guilt in her heart at the contrast between her girlfriend’s hopeful tone versus her own nonchalant one. And Azzi thinks that Zoe will never really understand just how similar the two of them are, stuck at wanting someone who would always let them down. Only, Azzi will let Zoe free but when it comes to her herself, she’s pretty sure she’s destined to be trapped forever. 

It’s embarrassing to admit that Azzi remembers the apartment in Storrs that she’d visited barely a handful of times a lot more than she remembers the apartment she’s currently in, the one that belongs to her girlfriend. Zoe sits rigidly on the couch with the same reserved, guarded expression she’s had since she’d opened the door, clearly aware of what was about to happen. Her foot taps incessantly as the silence between them drags on.

“You deserve better,” Azzi says finally, keeping her eyes firmly locked on the floor. 

“No,” Zoe’s voice is cold, “don’t say shit like that. It’s a cop out. It’s the shit people say to make themselves feel better-”

“Zoe-”

“Don’t be a fucking coward Azzi. Look me in the eye and say it, say exactly what you’re here to.”

Azzi doesn’t want to do any of that. She wants to crumble to the ground and let it swallow her until she’s buried so far away from the mess she’s created. But she owes Zoe this. When she does look at Zoe, there’s this look in the other girl’s eyes that Azzi had never thought herself capable of evoking in anyone and she has to swallow away the bile that rises in her throat, disgusted by her own self. 

“I’m breaking up with you,” Azzi whispers. Her words linger in the air, like shrapnel after an explosion. Zoe flinches, a single tear trickling down her face. 

“There it is,” the Californian says quietly, the ghost of an ironic smile playing on her lips, “I knew it was coming but damn- there it is.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“For what-” Zoe cuts herself, “no actually don’t- don’t answer that. I think I know.”

Azzi draws in a deep breath, ready to confess, “I need to tell-”

“Please-”

“Z-”

“Please,” Zoe sobs, “please don’t tell me. I don’t wanna hear it okay? I don’t- I don’t want to hate you Azzi. It’s too much and I don’t- I just- I’m so tired of feeling so much for you when you don’t- when you feel so little for me.”

“That’s not true,” Azzi counters helplessly, her words ringing hollow to her own ears. 

“Fucking hell you just ended it Azzi, you don’t have to pretend anymore. And it’s okay because I get it. You can’t feel any more than what little you do for me because- because you’ve already given the rest of it away. And it’s not- it’s not like I didn’t know you know? I only ever met you because you were crying over her. You only let me into your life because you missed her. And now you have her,” Zoe says wistfully. 

It’s terrible the way everything else becomes white noise as Azzi’s ear latches on the last sentence, a sentence that couldn’t be any further away from the truth. She was prepared for the accusations, for Zoe to hurl every curse word in the book at her, but this, the unintended reminder that she was giving up on soft, sweet, gentle Zoe for something that she didn’t have, hurts far more than any words could. 

“This isn’t about-” 

Zoe’s quick to cut Azzi off, pushing herself off the couch they had been sharing, trying to put even more space in between them, “please do not insult my intelligence by finishing that sentence. I deserve that much at least.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are because I know- I know who you are Azzi and I know you’re a good person and that’s why- that’s why I don’t wanna know okay? Whatever you did- whatever happened- just let me- just let me have this. Let me remember you as someone good- someone great,” Zoe pleads.

“If that’s what you want Zo,” Azzi answers weakly, the guilty clawing at her heart. She doesn’t think she deserves to be remembered like that, doesn’t think she’s worthy of being thought of with fondness, not anymore. 

Zoe doesn’t make any acknowledgement of Azzi having spoken as she starts to pace, “I should have known. You know the day I met her this summer, I got it- the appeal- I got it immediately. She has this aura, this charm. She just- she just fucking glows you know? And she’s just- she’s this huge entity and so are you and I’m just,” she lets out a hollow laugh as she shrugs,  “I’m just a girl from Stockton, California.”

“And you’re amazing,” Azzi puts up a hand when Zoe tries to cut her off again, “you are. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank you for what you did for me last year. You could have walked away that day and maybe- maybe one day you’ll think you should have. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Zoe. You do deserve better. It’s not a cop out. It’s the truth.”

Since she was younger, Azzi’s always hated endings. This time is no different. The bitter truth is that she probably won’t miss her girlfriend, but she will miss the friend that had gotten her through one of the toughest years of her life. Slowly, Azzi picks herself off of the couch and walks over to a still Zoe, squeezing her left hand once before heading towards the door. 

“Azzi,” Zoe calls out, just as Azzi has one foot out the door, “I hope it works out for the two of you. You and Paige always did just seem inevitable.”

***

She blames the fact she’s currently stuck in the terrible LA traffic, with the word inevitable ringing in her ears, for the way her fingers continuously flicker over the green call button under Paige’s name. Zoe saying her name had been the first time in a week that Azzi had even let herself, in consciousness at least, think of the blonde properly. And now that it had been unleashed, whispers of Paige, Paige, Paige echo through every crevice of skull. The pain and anger that she’d been trying to shield herself from, come barraging into her heart as she’s held captive once again by thoughts of her best friend. 

It would be a lie to say that Azzi hadn’t been hoping for a call or a text to come through. She’d waited two days with bated breath for a friendly quip that would lead them back to their safe haven of just pretend. Instead it was as if they were back to being who they had been before summer of 2022 all over again. Back to being nothing. But this time Azzi had been adamant that if Paige was going to cut her off again, she wouldn’t fight it, not this time. Apparently that resolve was never meant to last and Azzi feels a little pathetic with how desperately she needs to hear Paige’s voice, how desperately she wants to try again. 

The traffic clears just as she presses call and maybe that should have been a sign. Azzi’s not a bad driver per say, but as her dad always said, no one’s a good driver when they’re distracted. The phone rings for too long and she should take that as her next sign and accept it as Paige not wanting to talk, but she lets it continue to ring anyway, as she turns onto a more secluded road. And then-

“Hello,” the voice is unfamiliar and Azzi doesn’t really know Paige’s teammates, beyond Caroline, that well but she’s pretty certain this one doesn’t belong to any of them. 

“Hi uh- who is this?” she manages to get out as her grip tightens on the steering wheel.

“Oh um- this is Rose, Paige’s friend” comes the reply, the word friend said with a sultry lilt and Azzi feels her skin prickle. Hang up. 

“Why are you answering Paige’s phone?” her tone is far more accusatory than she’d like it to be. 

“She’s in the bathroom but she told me to,” Rose answers defensively. 

Azzi hesitates, she doesn’t need to know more except, “does she know who called?”

Because surely if she did, if Paige knew it was Azzi on the other line, she wouldn’t let one of her likely random hookups answer the phone, surely Paige would know what it would do, how it would make her feel. 

“Uh yeah- I told her Azzi called and she seemed pretty sure she wanted me to pick up.”

Maybe Paige does know what it would do, does know how it would make Azzi feel, maybe that’s the whole fucking point. Through the phone she can hear quiet footsteps walking closer, towards Rose. When Paige is close enough that Azzi can make out the sound of her breathing, can almost picture the way her chest is heaving, that’s when the tears finally fall, blurring her vision. 

She doesn’t see the blinking headlights rushing towards her until it’s too late and then she’s swerving. The world around her erupts in motion and light and noise, everything spinning and spinning and spinning. For one moment, as she loses complete control of her car, Azzi thinks maybe this is it. And the most terrifying part of it, is that for a second, she’s not all that opposed to the idea of this being the end. It’s a singular image of her parents in her brain that has her regaining her senses and hitting the brakes as hard as she can. Her tires screech as her car barrels into a tree and her entire body jerks around in her car, her seatbelt leaving burn scars against her neck. Azzi feels her heartbeat going haywire, as everything comes to a halt. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Rose’s panicked voice echoes. 

“What?” and there’s Paige and even in this wreckage, Azzi’s heart stutters at the sound of her best friend. 

“I think she crashed-”

“WHAT?” there’s frantic shuffling until, “Azzi? Azzi? Hello? Are you there? Fuck. Azzi are you okay? Please say something. C’mon Az. I know you’re there. Can you hear me? Please be okay. Azzi? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Azzi?”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth, trying to answer to the call of her name, but nothing comes out. She feels hot and cold all over at the same and she swears there’s a hand curled around her neck because she can’t fucking breathe. 

“Azzi,” Paige says again desperately, “please say something.”

“P-Paige,” Azzi finally manages to stutter, her chest heaving as she gasps for air. There’s blood rushing to her ears and everything around her feels hazy. 

“Azzi,” and that one syllable is wrapped in so much emotion, “I’m here okay, are you okay?”

No, Azzi thinks, I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay. 

“I c-can’t breathe. I think” she grasps at her neck, “I th-think I’m having a panic attack.”

Paige curses under her breath, “okay, okay alright listen to me breathe okay? And try to match it okay?”

“O-okay,” Azzi whispers, pressing her head to her steering wheel as she tries to mimic Paige’s exaggerated deep breaths on the other end of the line. 

“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me Azzi, just keep breathing okay,” Paige’s voice is far calmer than she probably is in reality, “just keep breathing with me okay.”

Azzi closes her eyes as she feels her chest slowly start to loosen up and lets herself be immersed by Paige’s soothing words of comfort. And for a second, it almost feels as if her best friend is right there with her. For a second, Azzi imagines that they’re on a whole other planet, just them in their little world, like it always should have been, like she’d once been so sure it would be. It’s a beautiful dream that reality is quick to gatecrash. 

“Babe, is she okay?” Rose asks, and Azzi’s eyes fly open at the term of endearment. She’s not on a different planet. She’s alone. And Paige isn’t. 

“I’m fine,” Azzi breathes out and then more firmly, “I’m fine.”

“Thank God,” Paige lets out a sigh of relief before her tone turns sour “what the actual fuck Azzi?”

Azzi winces at the loudness, pretty sure she might have a concussion from the way her head had crashed back into her headrest as she’d crashed into the tree in front of her. 

“I’m fine,” she repeats assertedly, as everything around her slowly starts to make sense again. It’s not a lie really, at least not physically. There’s the potential concussion, and the litany of bruises she’s starting to feel all over her body but she’s pretty sure there’s nothing wrong internally. Well except for her stupid fucking heart but it wasn’t the accident that had fucked that organ up. 

“You just crashed your fucking car, no you’re not fucking fine,” Paige yells, voice thick with tears. 

“What the fuck do you care?” Azzi bites back, “sorry I interrupted your fucking night Paige. I swear it won’t happen again.”

She hangs up before Paige can say anything else, sitting deathly still for a second. And then she lets herself completely break apart. 

***

74 missed calls from Paige

did u go to the hospital 

pick up ur fucking phone 

dude

azzi

this is not the time for this stubborn bullshit 

PICK UP UR FUCKING PHONE 

AZZI 

just say ur ok at least

please 

called ur mom 

said u had a concussion and some bruising 

thats not too bad 

ur so fucking stupid 

it could be so much worse 

please pick up 

AZZI FUCKING FUDD PICK UP UR PHONE 

so u can call carol and not me ok 

thats just fucking perfect

dude i feel like an accident > stupid fights 

so maybe just pick up 

or call me back

u wanna play this stupid game fine 

ignore me for now

but i’mma be in dc for christmas

ur gonna have to talk to me 

i know where u live 

***

The box in Azzi’s arm feels freakishly heavy, like she’s holding the whole world inside of it. In a way, maybe she is. The walk up Paige’s dad’s driveway feels longer than it ever has and she’s fighting the urge to turn back with every step. As soon as she’d seen the vaguely threatening text message, Azzi had decided she would beat Paige to it. The night of the accident had put several things into perspective and Azzi was determined to finally grasp control of her own life. 

It hasn’t been that long since the Cayman Island and so it hasn’t been that long since Azzi’s seen Paige. But when the door opens and she’s face to face with her best friend, despite the dread and anxiety that’s drowning her heart, Azzi still feels that beat of it’s cold but you always make me feel warm flutter in her chest. Paige smiles and Azzi’s arms wobble, drawing the blonde’s attention to the box in her arms. 

“Still a couple of days till Christmas Az, a little early to give me my present,” Paige smirks lightly and Azzi feels a river of hot anger slide around her veins. After everything she’d put her through in the last couple of weeks, the fact that Paige could act so frivolous, as if they were still fine, makes Azzi see red. 

Her voice is icier than the sheet of frost on the ground when she replies, “it’s not a Christmas present.”

Paige’s eyebrows knit together questioningly, “then-”

“It’s all your stuff I had lying around,” Azzi cuts in, trying to keep her voice confident and stable. 

The smile disappears from Paige’s face as she studies Azzi's face, looking for some semblance of emotion beyond the blank stare. 

“What?”

“All the things you’ve left at my house over the years, a couple of t-shirts, a hat, a book and a couple other things, they’re in this box,” Azzi says pointedly. She tries to hand it over but Paige is quick to move away from it, staring at the offending object as if it’s a ticking time bomb. 

“What the actual fuck is going on Azzi?”

“I might have missed some things. Let me know if I have and I’ll mail them to you in the future,” Azzi recites clinically, keeping her demeanour stoic as possible “and of course I would like my things back as well. Not right now of course. You can mail them to me whenever it suits you.”

“Mail back your things? What? What the fuck are you going on about?” Paige asks, a bewildered expression taking on her face. She reaches out as if she wants to shake Azzi but seems to think better of it. 

Azzi doesn’t say anything, as she sidesteps Paige into the house, putting in the utmost effort to make sure no part of herself brushes up against the older girl, knowing the inevitable burst of electricity when they touch would be enough to break her resolve. She places the box of Paige’s stuff on the coffee table in the living room, before turning back to Paige. 

“I’m giving you your stuff back,” Azzi repeats, “I’m giving you what you want.”

“What I want? When did I ask for my stuff back?”

Azzi draws in a deep breath, fighting desperately against the screams of you don’t want this in her own head, “I’m giving you a clean break Paige. I’m letting you go.”

Saying those words feels a lot like free-falling. Her stomach lurches at the way Paige’s features scrunch up in pain and she’d never meant to do that, but Azzi’s so tired. She’s so tired of this push and pull, the way they seem to hurt each other every fucking time, the way things get so close to going right and then go wrong any way. The bitter truth of life, Azzi has forced herself to admit, is that it doesn’t matter how hard you fight, sometimes the darkness wins out anyway. 

“You think-,” Paige stutters, clutching at her chest, “you think this is what I want?”

“Well isn’t it?” 

“Of course n-”

“If I hadn’t called you that night would you have called me first Paige?  If I hadn’t gotten into that stupid accident, would you even have texted me ever again?”

Paige’s silence is an answer in itself . And although Azzi had known it, she can’t deny that there’s a part of her that had posed the question hoping against hope that Paige would have answered it with a resounding yes of course. She thinks maybe she should be used to the singe of disappointment that burns her skin by now but she’s never been immune to Paige’s fire. 

“That’s what I thought,” Azzi says quietly, “I’m tired of running after you Paige. I thought I was done after the Cayman Islands but then I- I don’t know- I don’t know why I called you that night when you- you clearly didn’t want that.”

“Azzi c’mon-”

“It’s my fault really. Because you've always been clear about it and I- for some reason- I just don’t listen. You were clear with it when you told me to go to UCLA and get out of your life. You were clear when you didn’t want me to come into your air BnB. You were clear when you told me to get out of the bathroom last summer. And when you left that night-,” Azzi pauses as Paige’s eyes widen, the words catching in her throat, “when you were gone that morning- every time you didn’t call- every time you didn’t text- you were always clear about it Paige and I- I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

“You’re being really fucking unfair right now,” Paige accuses, “you’re mad because I didn’t want to be your fucking side whore? I’m so sorry I had more self-respect than that Azzi.”

Azzi blinks rapidly, her face still completely neutral, “excuse me?”

“You wanna blame me for those first two things, fine. But you have a whole ass girlfriend and you wanted me to be what? Just a girl you can fuck occasionally because you feel like it? Who the fuck do you think I am? I deserve so much better than that.”

“I don’t-”

“You wanna know why I left that morning?” Paige asks icily, “I woke up and the first thing I saw is your girlfriend’s fucking i miss you text. All that shit you said to me when I kissed you in LA about not wanting to be one of my groupies or whatever but what did you want me to be Azzi?”

When they were young and naive, the largest fight they’d ever had was about whether or not one of them had cheated in a game of horse. The allegations of cheater from a 15 year old Paige had seemed massive back then, but they pale in front of the accusations of cheater from a 22 year old Paige. It’s not that Azzi thinks she’s some prime example of a good samaritan and she can deal with people thinking she’s not all that, but it’s different when it’s Paige, it’s different to know that Paige could ever think so low of her. 

“You really think I’d do that you? That I’d make you my sidepiece or whatever?”

“What else am I supposed to think about you fucking me while you have a girlfriend?” Paige asks exasperatedly and Azzi flinches at the repeated use of the profanity. 

“Had.”

“What?”

Azzi grips the hem of her shirt, trying to focus her eyes anywhere but Paige, “I had a girlfriend. Past tense.”

“You- you broke up with Zoe?” Paige’s expression morphs from anger to confusion before finally settling on realisation. 

“I never wanted you to be a side piece. You think I don’t know you deserve better than that?” Azzi rubs her temple, as she tries to keep herself steady on her feet, “I know seeing that text hurt you but it’s not like you didn’t know I had a girlfriend. But- but if you’d just waited for me to wake up, god if you’d just talked to me once instead of jumping to conclusions then-”

“Then what?” Paige breathes out and Azzi doesn’t miss the little spurt of hope that’s taken birth on the older girl's face. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Azzi shakes her head, “that’s also past tense now.”

The thing with Paige is that anger is her protective mechanism. When she gets a little close to losing control of her emotions, or feeling too much, it’s what she falls back on so it’s not surprising that her tone is harsh when she speaks again. 

“How the fuck was I supposed to guess you were gonna break up with your girlfriend Az c’mon,” Paige takes a step towards her, “I’m not a fucking mind reader.”

“I never asked you to read my mind. I just- all I’ve ever wanted- is for you to just have a little faith in me- in us,” Azzi’s voice breaks on the last word. 

“That’s not fair. I was really fucking  hurt Azzi-” Paige begins, her voice pleading.

“And then you tried to hurt me back on purpose,” Azzi spits out as the façade of neutrality completely slips off, “you knew it was me calling and you had that girl pick up any way knowing exactly how it would make me feel.”

“Azzi,” baby blue eyes sparkle with tears and Azzi has to force herself to look away, because no matter how much she’s convinced that this is what needs to happen, seeing Paige break, will drown Azzi and she’s barely floating as it is. 

“I don’t enjoy hurting you Paige,” Azzi says softly, “and I don’t think you enjoy hurting me but for the last couple of years, I feel like that’s all we’ve been doing and I- I can’t do it anymore.”

It’s not something she’d ever admitted out loud, or even to herself, but once upon a time Azzi used to think her and Paige would have one of those stories, one of those soft, sappy fairytale-esque stories that had no chance of an ending that wasn’t happily ever after. And she hopes that maybe in another universe, maybe they did have that. Maybe in a universe where she chose UConn and things never went wrong in the first place. Maybe in that universe, they’re happy. But in this universe, they seem to be destined for misery. And Azzi thinks the saddest tragedy of it all, is that it feels like she’s ending a story that never even really got the chance to start. 

“So that’s it then, you’re walking away- you’re just- you’re fucking giving up?” Paige says bitterly, crossing her arms protectively over her chest and Azzi feels a flicker of annoyance light up against her ribcage. 

“Isn’t that what you did?” she accuses, “Is that not what you do? You walk away every. single. time. because you can’t deal with things getting just a little too fucking hard. And what? I’m just supposed to wait until you come back? Or chase after you like a pathetic little puppy?”

Paige flinches at the hardness in Azzi’s tone, mouth opening and closing but nothing escaping. 

“I’m so fucking tired of always being the one calling, the one showing up, the one trying. I’m so fucking tired of fighting for us when it feels like you’re fighting against me,” Azzi pauses,trying to blink away the tears she’d tried so hard to keep locked behind her eyelids, “if you wanna call that me giving up then okay, but I don’t think you realize just how fucking hard I want to hold on.”

Azzi’s not sure if it’s the way her voice cracks, or the absolute misery behind every word she says, but Paige's hard and cold expression is gone so fast it gives her whiplash. And then her Paige, the girl with the warm eyes and soft heart is back, looking at Azzi in a way that makes her want to believe in them all over again. Arms outstretched, Paige takes a step forwards and there’s nothing more Azzi wants then melt into them. It takes everything in her to step away instead. For a moment there’s nothing but them staring at each other in silence, a moment where Azzi tries to memorise everything about Paige just in case this is the last time. And then-

“What if,” Paige begins softly, “what if I entered the draft?”

Azzi looks at her in confusion, “what does that have to do with anything?”

“The Sparks have the second pick, it’s where I’m projected to go,” Paige bites at her lips, peering at Azzi through her eyelashes. 

The Sparks. The Los Angeles Sparks. 

“Is that what you want?” Azzi asks quietly, trying to prevent her brain from already coming up with dreams of stupid picnic dates at the park during sunset. 

Paige hesitates. And it’s enough for those dreams to crumble, because Azzi knows Paige just a little too well, knows exactly what that little bit of hesitation means. 

“I haven’t decided yet but if- if there was a reason that I should-”

“There isn’t,” Azzi says firmly, “it’s not what you want.”

“I don’t even fucking know what I want,” Paige argues and that doesn’t make it any better. 

“Then figure it out,” Azzi yells, frustratedly rubbing her hands over her face, “I won’t deal with you fucking resenting me and running away again in a couple of years- hell in a couple of months- because you regret your fucking decision.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“Please just stop. It's done. I’ve made up my mind” Azzi begs, exhaustion flooding into her body, “just- just let this go please.”

Paige meets her eyes with a stubborn fire, “I don’t fucking want to.”

“Well tough luck because I do.”

“Azzi,” Paige pleads desperately, trying to block Azzi as she beelines for the door, but the younger girl is quick to push past her. 

“Goodbye Paige.”

***

December 2024 

azzi please just let me in 

ur parent are saying u dont wanna see me 

and i get it 

but i can fix this i swear 

i know u know im here

please fucking let me in 

i fucked up 

i know 

im so fucking sorry

but dude we can fix this

just 

can u just fucking let me in

i really wanna see u 

i really wanna talk 

can we just fucking talk 

please 

merry christmas az

u know what fuck u actually 

didnt mean that sorry 

i was just mad 

u make me really fucking mad 

christmas breaks almost over 

i have to go back soon and ik u do too

we should talk before that 

ur so fucking stubborn 

but so am i

im not giving up 

i won’t 

January 2024

hi 

i miss you

ur really fucking annoying

not texting me back

but its fine

i’ll just fucking spam 

i had an ok day today 

practice was kinda ass 

not me tho

i was great

as always 

bet i made more threes than you did 

bro im watching ur game

and

what the fuck kinda airball did u just throw up 

get in the gym az jfc 

oh that was a good pullup

not better than mine

but decent 

been a fucking month azzi 

just fucking call me back 

or text me idk 

i miss u 

sooooooooooo

hows ur day

good? good.

hows mine?

oh kinda shit 

lets see

we lost in front of all these uconn legends

to their fucking rival 

everyones saying uconn fucking sucks 

some people are saying i suck

they might not be completely wrong 

now would be a good time to reply az 

like maybe make me feel better

fuck u actually 

what the fuck am i doing 

idk if u even read these 

February 2024

idk maybe i should stop 

like maybe only fucking psychos do this 

but idk bro 

i feel like ur gonna text me back eventually 

well sc was a shit show 

i mean we knew it but holy shit 

i really wanna talk to you about it

it’d mainly just be me fucking yelling 

and u giggling 

fuck i miss ur laugh

i miss you

idk if u just ignore these

so idk if ur gonna even see this 

but 

i wanted to tell you first 

before u saw it from somewhere else 

im staying at uconn 

u were right

i didnt want to leave yet 

i want my 4 years

but 

just dont think it means i didnt mean what i said

that i dont wanna be in la with u

i do

its not about that

i just need to do whats best for me

and thats staying here 

fuck

i get what u meant now

u didnt pick ucla over me

fuck fuck fuck 

im sorry az

is this how u felt 

when i didn’t text u back 

because it’s actually fucking hell 

i miss you so fucking much dude

i’m so sorry 

i’m really fucking sorry azzi 

for all of it

please just call me back

March 2024

last pac-12 tournament mvp!!

dude i’m so proud of you

we also won 

idk if u heard 

it wasnt easy either 

everything just always fucking goes wrong 

fucking pisses me off 

but oh well 

u know i dont even like texting 

idk how many messages ive sent u 

its gotta be hundreds atp 

insane shit on my part 

tf is wrong with me 

did u see the bracket

see u in the final 4 azzi 

April 2024 

i fucking told u 

i told you id see u in the final four

fucking meant it

fuck 

gonna kick yalls ass

revenge szn

we’re built different in march

cleveland here we fucking go 

but also

cant avoid me anymore 

i cant fucking wait to see you az  

***

UConn 87     UCLA 84 

There’s six seconds left to go and UCLA has control of the ball. The game today had been completely different from the on down in the Cayman Islands. That one had featured a UCLA team that had dominated from start to finish versus a UConn team still reeling from multiple injuries. This time around, UCLA seemed to have lost some of their shine and UConn had been on a tear. She would never give Paige the satisfaction of knowing it but her stupid goading, her incessant smirking because UConn seemed poised to win handedly, had gotten in Azzi’s head for most of the game. The fourth quarter had seen UConn enter with a 11 point lead that had held study until the last two and a half minutes when something had finally clicked for Azzi. 

“Told you, you should have fucking come to UConn,” Paige had sneered while casually dribbling the ball and that had been enough to break Azzi out of whatever funk she’d been in. All of her anger and frustration at Paige seemed to culminate into that one moment as she’d swiped the ball straight from Paige’s hands, narrowly avoiding a foul. An easy steal-and-score layup was followed by two signature three pointers, created by her team’s defence, and suddenly the lead had been cut down to three. On the other side, Muhl had been called for an offensive foul and immediately Coach Close had called for a timeout to advance the ball. 

When both teams get back on the court, Azzi, with her competitive streak in full control of her emotions, relishes in the way Paige’s face is contorted up in frustration. But it isn’t just this game that has Azzi irritated. Paige had been relentless since both teams had landed in Cleveland in trying to corner Azzi. She’d known it was gonna happen since she’d read the text but still Azzi had hoped that maybe the blonde would just let it go, would understand just how much Azzi didn’t want to have to deal with this. Because seeing Paige hurts. All the missing and yearning of the past few months seemed to have blended into this ball of tight hot pain that had burst the minute Paige had smiled at Azzi. She knows Paige means well, and it’s taking everything in her to ignore the part of her that’s secretly enamoured by how hard the point guard is trying finally, but Azzi just can’t do it again. She can’t let Paige in again and then spend every other second scared that Paige will run away again. 

The whistle blows and Charisma gets ready to inbound the ball. The play call had been to just get it to Azzi but it’s clearly one that UConn had anticipated, because she finds herself swarmed with Paige and Muhl both trying to make sure she doesn’t get the ball. Instead, it’s Kiki who gets the ball and the countdown starts, as Azzi fights to get herself free, running off of screens, to get herself open on the three point line. It takes too much time and they don’t have any more timeouts left. Kiki throws it inside to Lauren who misses the layup but gets her own rebound and somehow the ball finally finds its way into Azzi’s hands. And with barely a second left to go, and Paige’s hand firmly in her face, Azzi throws up a prayer. The arena goes deathly silent as the ball hits the back and then circles every inch of the rim before spilling over the edge and falling straight into Edwards’ hands. 

The crowd erupts in deafening cheers as the UConn bench rushes to the court, jubilantly hugging each other with Paige in the middle. Azzi blinks rapidly, refusing to be caught shedding a single tear on camera. Her teammates look distraught and Azzi feels disappointment curling into every crevice of her skin she’d almost had it. In the grand scheme of things she knows that, that shot would have only guaranteed overtime and not a win but still, it wouldn’t have meant a loss. And she knows this one isn’t completely on her either but it doesn’t mean that she doesn’t feel the burden of it on her shoulders any way. 

But despite it all, seeing Paige’s bright smile stretch all over her beaming face as she celebrates with her team, soothes the sting of the loss just a little bit. Azzi still remembers late night calls and Paige’s broken voice too well, her brain imprinted with the misery of a girl who had just wanted to play the sport she loved and couldn’t. And even if everything between them resembles the remnants of an earthquake, Azzi can’t help but be just a little bit happy for Paige. 

The handshake line is better this time around with no one being unnecessarily hostile. One team is too happy to care and when Muhl briefly hugs her, Azzi can’t help but be a little shocked by the affection. Her team is too despondent to be mad, and Angela briefly nods at Paige when shaking her hand, and gets a reassuring grin in return. Azzi has to force herself not to run away, if only for decorum’s sake, once she and Paige finally get to each other. Trying to keep herself steady, she reaches out her hand to counter Paige’s outstretched arms. The smile falls a little bit from Paige’s face as a more resigned expression takes its place. 

“Good game Bueckers,” Azzi manages to muster out. 

The last name stings but Paige does her best to not let it show, “good game Az.”

***

When there’s a knock on the door to her hotel room a little bit after 10pm, Azzi knows exactly who it is. The look that Charisma gives her as she goes to open it, suggests that she does too. 

“Oh thank fucking god, I thought maybe y’all left already,” and there it is, Paige voice echoing through her room and from where she’s perched on the edge of bed, her feet dangling over the side, Azzi catches a brief glimpse of the UConn point guard. 

“Had a little bit of a transportation issue. We’re not leaving til tomorrow morning,” Charisma explains, “what are you doing here Paige?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously at the doorway, peering over Charisma’s frame in the doorway to catch sight of Azzi, “can I talk to Azzi?”

“First you kick my ass in the final four, and now you wanna kick me out of my own room?” Charisma asks, voice light but there’s an edge of seriousness to it. 

“I-uh-” 

“Az,” Charisma turns to Azzi with a questioning look, and Azzi sighs at having all the attention on her, “you wanna talk to her?”

Say no. Say yes. Her head fights with itself. And for the last few months, Azzi’s done well with listening to the logical part of her brain, diligently sticking to letting go. But that had only been easy to do because Paige hadn’t actually been there. Now that she is, with bright hopeful eyes fixed on Azzi, well, this time the emotional side wins out. She nods her head in yes at Charisma and Paige seems to glow all over. 

“You’re lucky it’s me and not Angela or Kiki or any of the other girls,” Charisma warns, “but I swear to god Bueckers if I come back and there’s a single tear-”

“Then you have my permission to fucking murder me,” Paige vows, her face a paragon of sincerity. 

Charisma nods once, stepping aside to let Paige in. The Bruin’s point guard looks at Azzi once more for confirmation and then, satisfied by the small smile Azzi shoots at her, she leaves the room, letting the door shut behind her. And then it’s just Paige and Azzi and the myriad of unspoken thoughts that seem to always linger between them. 

“Hi,” Paige says softly. 

Azzi stares up at her with tired eyes, “shouldn’t you be celebrating or something?”

“Still one more game to go. Gotta lock in for that first.”

“Then go do that. What are you doing here?”

Paige flinches at the harsh tone and Azzi feels a wave of guilt come over her. She doesn’t mean to be so hostile but she’s scared that if she gives in just a little, all of her will go tumbling down. 

“Sunday is the most important game of my life,” Paige says quietly. 

“I know- I know it means a lot to you.”

“It does,” Paige nods, as she takes a step forward, hesitating for a second, before she drags a foot stool over, so she can sit right in front of Azzi, “will you stay for it?”

“That’s not-,” Azzi sucks in a deep breath, her senses muddle by having Paige so close to her again, “I thought I was clear about- about us.’

“You were but I thought I was clear with my texts,” Paige counters. 

“Paige please.”

“I just-,” Paige pauses, leaning forward and staring intently at Azzi, “I don’t know how the national championship is gonna go. I don’t know if we’re gonna win or lose but I just- I know that no matter what happens, I want you there. Because if I’m gonna end up fucking crying, then I want it to be on your shoulder. And if I’m gonna end up celebrating, I want it to be in your arms. I just- I just want you there. With me. Always.”

Everything else floats away and for a moment, all Azzi knows is Paige, and the warmth that reverberates through her body at the earnestness in those words. If she could, she’d capture that feeling in a bottle and keep it forever. Because moments are fleeting. And when her brain catches up to her heart, and that voice in her head is back to echoing it won’t last, Azzi feels cold all over again. 

“You don’t believe me,” disappointment echoes in Paige’s voice; she’s always been a little too perceptive of Azzi’s emotions, “you think I don’t mean it?”

“I think you mean it now. I don’t think you’ll mean it forever,” Azzi shrugs. 

Paige is quiet, nerves on full display, as she cautiously reaches for Azzi’s hands with both of her own, an audible sigh of relief floating out of her lips when Azzi lets her. 

“I know I fucked up,” she begins quietly, thumb caressing Azzi’s palms, each trace sending jolts of electricy through the younger girl’s body, “like really fucked up and I get why you think that. I get why- why you’re so scared to believe me. And I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

A teardrop rolls down Paige’s cheek, falling onto their intertwined hands, and Azzi feels herself flinch, her own eyes beginning to glisten. 

“If I could go back in time, I’d change so many fucking things. I’d go back to the beginning- back to your room the night before you went to LA and- and I’d tell myself to shut the fuck up. I’d tell you that I supported you- that I understood that you weren’t choosing UCLA over me- and I’d- I’d tell you that it didn’t matter how many fucking miles away from me you were- we’d survive it. But I can’t- I can’t change the past. I can’t change that we fought. I can’t change that- that I was a fucking idiot for ignoring you for a year. I can’t change that I was a dumbass for leaving that morning.”

Tears are freely streaming from both of their eyes now as they grip each other’s hands tightly. There’s something cathartic about finally being able to cry, about finally being able to mourn the loss of what could have been together.And it feels a little bit like healing. 

Paige looks up at Azzi through watery eyelashes as she continues to speak, her voice wrecked with emotion, “and I’m not gonna make promises about how I’ll never do shit to hurt you again because god knows I can be really fucking stupid.”

They let out simultaneous giggles at that and Azzi can feel something in herself unravelling. 

“But what I can promise is that if you let me, every day- every fucking day that I live- I will try. To not hurt you. To make it up to you. To fix this. To fix us. And I can promise, that I will never ever fucking run away from you again. I know- I know it’s gonna be hard but I swear- I fucking swear- that I will stay right here and face it with you.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers helplessly. It’s everything she’s wanted to hear and it’s too much. The voices in her head are too loud again, screams of she’ll hurt you, she always does, let her go colliding with shouts of it’s Paige, it’s your Paige, hold on to her. 

“You said- you said you were tired of fighting alone but you never- you never have to do that again because- because I’m here now. Fuck- Azzi I’m here. And I know- I know there’s so much we have to talk about and so much we still have to fucking deal with. But we can do that- we can- we can deal with anything. Because it’s us. Paige and Azzi. We can do anything. Together.”

Paige presses her forehead to Azzi’s, pulling their interlocked hands to her chest. They’re breathing in sync and Azzi can feel the thrum of Paige’s heart beat against her fingertips. Azzi’s eyes close of their own accord, as Paige’s lips brush over hers, her next words coming out in a breathless whisper. 

“Believe in me- believe in us just one more time, please.”

[emersonfreepress]

help i'm alive

So! Long time, no see. 2023 was a whole goddamn lot lol

I don't have a demo update to share yet, but that's because I had to scrap nearly everything I managed to write during a very, very, very bad stint of writer's block last year. I hadn't even realized it had been a block like that until I went over my work so far last month and realized it was bad -- like, trust me; a slog to read that didn't even sound like me. It's been extremely frustrating but I've finally broken free of that and it's been easy and actually fun to write again for the first time in actual years. I just hate giving updates that have no actual news in them. And I really had nothing to share other than: I deleted thousands of words and feel so much better now 😅

Anyway, little about my demo plans have changed: I'm still putting out the Chapter 3 demos in Choicescript/on Dashingdon and then will be going dark to move things over to Twine. Where I am in the process right now is... feeling like 35% done with the overhauled version of this chapter and 50% done for the next demo update.

As far as asks, I'm... not really sure what to do?? I believe I've read them all (I love you guys), but so much time has passed since getting most of them that I'm not sure if it's, like... still pertinent??? To go back and answer them?? I suppose some of them like character asks could be, but all the nice messages of support -- that feels weird since I've practically ghosted this blog since August! Idk. Y'all tell me what to do with 'em and I'll do it. Maybe I should make a poll.

Uh... that's really all there is to say regarding the game! I've added some personal stuff after the cut, but if you're done here: Thanks for reading and sticking around. It means the world, for real.

So what has occupied my time all this time? Doctor, therapy, money, and friends. And improv! But especially the first two. There was a lot of non-writing related stuff fucking up my ability to focus and write, so hopefully with my mind and body both feeling a lot better, I can get back to being present and active with the game. I didn't realize how physically unwell I was until last year and it's been like... life-long issues I've been treating. It turns out it's not normal to feel exhausted enough to sleep at any given time, at all times, for your whole life! wow!!

I also uninstalled Tumblr from my phone back in February, so you could say I'm sort of generally focused on offline life. (And what an interesting coincidence that my writer's block dissipated shortly after that...) I also just moved!! The last two weekends have been so expensive and stressful -_- But I can't even compare the old place to the new. We're basically paying the same price for idek how much more space. The cats are so happy; which means the house humans get to be happy.

My schedule is finally freed up from constant medical shit (there was a 3-month stretch this winter with multiple doctor appointments literally every fucking week 🙃🙃🙃). My mental health is doing a lot better -- literally incomparably better compared to where I was this time last year. There's live comedy now (which I dabble in, to be clear lol), but I've finally found myself able to like... balance it all. The physical and creative energy that goes into it all, anyway. The lovely thing about improv is that you kinda just show up and do your thing -- it doesn't cut into my writing time so much as it costs energy. Unless I end up in this comedy debate show thing next month, which I am very excited to give up writing time for

So like... Life is life-ing and I'm just vibing. Or something? I'll be around.

Thank you all again so much for your interest, support, patience, and readership <3

[middlingmay]

okay okay, sexy ideas. weekend pass in London. They have a hotel room. They still end up doing the nasty in an alley because they’re both thrill seekers and stupidly horny 😏

- @stoneinyourshoe

Thank you so much for the idea @stoneinyourshoe! But damn you. This...this got wildly away from me. Apparently I have a lot of thoughts about the Buckies being horny little thrill seekers.

Constructive criticism more than welcome! Let me know if it's stilted, repetitive, doesn't flow, awkward, out of character - I wanna knooow.

NSFW under the cut.

They always joked that Gale had to cut Bucky off when he got good and drunk. But he hadn’t done it once. Not ever. Because truth was Gale liked drunk Bucky. He liked Bucky all ways, but he liked drunk Bucky for two very specific reasons.

First, he liked to observe and measure and catalogue how different Bucky was to his dad. They both had a proclivity for whisky, but John's never turned him mean and Gale liked the count all the ways that was true.

Second, Bucky got handsy.

To others it may have looked like Gale merely tolerated Bucky hanging off him when he was drunk, grabbing at Gale's face, chucking his chin, slapping his thigh, showering him with compliments that would make a dame blush. But Gale craved it, thirsted for it, drank every single scrap of it all in and wanted more and more and more. He worried that he wanted more than Bucky had in him to give, but Bucky seemed determined to try anyway.

And London had made him freer than normal. Maybe it was the relief and giddiness from being away from base. Maybe it was the anonymity that came with being in such a large city full of people. Maybe it was the dim lighting of the bar. But Bucky was well on his way to tipsy and his hands were everywhere. Gale didn’t know how he was doing it.

They sat at a small table listening to the band and watching couples dance on the floor. So far, Bucky had put his arm over Gale’s shoulder and stroked the downy hairs on the nape of his neck on the way by. He’d traced the curve of Gale’s ear and tugged on the soft lobe between two rough-skinned fingers. He’d patted Gale’s chest and lingered over his heartbeat. He leaned into Gale’s side with almost all his weight and spoke deep and rough into Gale’s ear where no one could hear the goddamn filth that man could spew.

“Think they’d notice if I slipped under the table?”

“Fuck you smell good. Wanna taste you, Buck.”

“When you told that rookie off the other day? Got me half-hard. Think you could talk to me like that later?”

With each utterance, Bucky got closer than the last until Gale felt the very tip of his tongue, warm and wet, lick at the juncture where his ear met his jaw. Gale had to cross his legs and lean back before they got themselves into a situation they couldn’t talk themselves out of.

And fuck if that didn’t get him harder. Because that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? He and John were kindred spirits, a little wild and a little unhinged like all good pilots had to be to do their job. When they’d started up this thing together, and had finally given in to that pull, that nature of theirs had spilled over into their sex life. It was hard to hold back when they wanted each other, and being together on a military base during wartime meant you had to embrace a little risk. But Buck and Bucky got off on it. When they heard voices pass them by, or footsteps come near their hiding places; when they decided they just had to have each other fifteen minutes before they were due for a briefing, it had them clawing at each other more viciously, giving biting kisses and delving their tongues in to plunder up every taste and sound they could. It had them pulling hair until the strands broke and coming so hard their eyes rolled back into their heads and their ears buzzed for a while after they came back down to earth.

The real kicker was when they returned to wherever they were supposed to be, strolled in like the leaders of the pack, spick and span and not a hair or a mark out of place, and no one batted an eye.

Under the table, John’s hand left his knee and crept up the long expanse of Gale’s thigh. His fingers pressed the inseam of Gale’s pants into the soft skin and caught and tugged on the hairs there on its way up, sparking little bursts of painful pleasure. With Gale’s legs still crossed, they created the perfect little cove for John to cup Gale’s length with one massive hand.

“Shit.”

“Think I could get you off here? Think you could sneak out when your come’s still drying?”

Gale grabbed John’s half-finished whisky and tossed it into the soil of some poor potted plant that didn’t deserve it.

John didn’t take his eyes off Gale. “I was drinking that.”

“You’re finished.”

“Ah, Buck,” John grinned and pulled his hand away. “I’m just getting started.”

Gale kept close to John’s back as they left - more cover for the effect John had on him. Not even the cool burst of air of a London evening could settle him down fully.

That, and John was a man of his word. He really was just getting started.

“Think I wanna kneel on the floor,” he said when the coast was clear. Gale didn’t say a word, fully aware John was not looking for his input. “Whilst you lean over the bed. So I can eat you out.”

Gale tongued at the inside of his cheek, feeling the silky smooth softness of the skin; skin John had told him felt like the inside of a woman. Gale had never tried it before.

“I’ve heard about this thing they do in Europe, too. You lie on top of each other, but one of you is upside down, so we can blow each other at the same time.”

Gale’s stomach clenched. Jesus fucking Christ.

“But I really wanna call room service, then fuck you against the door and try to make you come before they get there and hear that fuckin’ squeal you got. Shit—”

John nearly lost his balance as Gale bodily shoved him into the mouth of an alley. He only just caught himself, but Gale pushed and bullied and kept on shoving until they were more than half way down and the evening shadows afforded them some cover.

Gale grabbed John by his lapels and thrust him against the scraggly brick wall. He worked his knee harshly between John’s legs and watched dark brown lashes flutter over the dusky blue of his eyes.

“Squealing?” Gale murmured against his lips. “Like you don’t whimper like a virgin on her wedding night every time I take you for everything you got.”

The sound of a car passing by had Gale’s tongue flicking out into John’s waiting mouth. John trembled and followed after as Gale pulled back. He whined when Gale shoved him back against the wall.

“You got anything with you?”

The aching disappointment on John’s face was all the answer he needed. Gale tutted and John hung his head, a sorry looking thing. Gale may have liked John’s eagerness to please, but he never liked him looking so hang dog, disappointed in himself. He put a finger under his chin, like he used to do to Marge, and tilted John’s head up.

“What’s got you so down, baby? I don’t like it when you ain’t smiling.”

John grabbed his waist, squeezed the trim angles and thumbed at the oblique muscles that corded his sides.

“Wanna fuck you,” he whispered into Gale’s mouth.

“Right here?”

“Mhm.”

Fuck. Fuck. Gale loved when John got like this. Compliant and needy. Reduced to short sentences and mere sounds. He couldn’t help himself. He let his tongue dip into John’s mouth and pulled him into a messy kiss that shot straight to his cock. The slick sound of Gale pulling away way was like the rendering of ripe fruit.

“Think you can take it a little rough?”

John’s hands had already dropped to Gale’s belt before he even started nodding, promising Gale he could take it with breathy yeah, yeah, yeahs. Gale placed his hands on the wall, either side of John’s head and let him pull Gale’s belt apart, prize at the button of his slacks, and unzip him just enough to pull out the length of him.

But Gale grabbed his wrist before he could do that. He twirled his other finger in a circle and without a word John turned around to face the wall, holding himself up by his hands.

Gale watched the trembling line of his wide shoulders, a wingspan befitting a bomber pilot—a bomber squadron commander who had to bear the weight of all those men. He watched the rock of John’s hips as he thrust uselessly into the pace between him and the wall.

John was an indulgent, vice-loving man. He really couldn’t help himself. And Gale did like to live vicariously through him.

He would have liked to have taken his time, drawn it out and teased John with it until he got desperate. But anyone could walk by, look a little closer and see them. So time was against them.

With deft fingers he uncoiled John’s belt, undid the fastenings to his slacks and shoved them and his boxers down to just below the curve of his ass.

“Gotta be quiet,” he murmured into John’s ear. “Can’t give anyone a reason to come lookin’. You hear me?”

John’s agreement came muffled through a bit lip.

He dipped his fingers into the crease below the divot at the small of John’s back and spat a long, thick line down into it. Then another. Then another. He had a finger pressed just above where John wanted him, not letting any of the precious viscosity escape. Quick and sudden, before his spit could dry, Gale pressed his finger into the furling heat of John. A choked off gasp and a sharp hiss had Gale kissing the nape of John’s neck gently, had him slipping his other hand down the front of John and tugging and pulling and rolling to give John something else to focus on.

The mewling that stuck at the bottom of John’s throat for Gale’s ears only was his guide. The second it came smoother, higher, Gale slipped in another finger. It was just edging the wrong side of too dry for John; Gale knew what he could take, what he thought he could take and what he couldn’t. But John kept thrusting into the flat palm Gale held against his cock, and the sharpness of the feeling of just two fingers inside him had John dripping globs of precum down his shaft.

What a generous, thoughtful, useful sort, was John.

Gale scooped up the sticky moisture and used it to slick the way a little better. John had his forearm against the wall and bit into the thick, heavy fabric of his army issued jacket.

He really was a good boy.

“That’s it John,” Gale panted from behind. “You got anymore for me? Just a little more and you’ll be ready for me.”

John did, always so ready to give Gale what he asked for. With three fingers still inside him, Gale stroked himself, slicking himself up with his own slickness and lined up as he pulled his fingers free.

John barely had time to make a single noise of complaint before Gale was driving all the sound out of him. John’s mouth opened in a silent scream as his head fell against Gale’s shoulder. His eyes were wide open and wondrous, and the smooth, freckled skin of his forehead was lax and uncreased. Blissful. Contended. Beautiful.

Gale grabbed the thick stretch of John’s neck just above the collar and John’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. Every thrust of Gale’s hips drove the breath from John’s lungs. There was no sound left in him, no room for it with the blinding pleasure tinged with pricks of stinging pain from the rough texture of the brick, Gale’s grip on his throat, and the full, pulling stretch of Gale inside him.

John almost sobbed when Gale finally dropped the hand at his neck back to his cock. Gale grinned and bit the lobe of John’s ear. So greedy, he never did want it to be over.

But they were running out of time.

Gale stroked him hard and quick, almost double time to his thrusts. The sound of their bodies coming together echoed in the quiet London alley and Gale felt like everyone, anyone nearby must know what they’re doing. God maybe this was it; maybe this was the time they were going to get caught.

He said as much to John and his knees shook and went weak until Gale was all that held him up.

His stomach tensed and fluttered. He was almost there. John’s panting was getting higher and whinier, a sure sign he was riding that edge, too. Fuck, they needed to come now. They were going to get caught—

A woman’s sharp laughter barreled down from the mouth of the alley and Gale came with a harsh bite to John’s shoulder through the fabric of his jacket. That woman could be standing right next to them watching, calling her friends over to watch and it wouldn’t have mattered. Gale shoved deeper and deeper into John as he rode out his orgasm, revelling in the warm, wet heat of his own making, marking John up like that from the inside. Fuckin’ let those sanctimonious bastards watch. Whilst they fucked around on their husbands and wives, he got to make it whenever and wherever he wanted with the love of his life.

John’s hands snapped around to grab at Gale’s hair and he was painting the wall in front and the ground below with his own spend. He was pushing against Gale trying to ride out the moment for all it was worth, painfully aware it would be over in a few short seconds. It had to be. They’d pushed every ounce of luck they had already. And then some.

Gale let himself indulge in kisses along John's neck, up his jaw and on his ear, before he pulled out carefully. John hissed and groaned as he did and Gale murmured soft apologies as he put them back together. John first, all tucked away and belt buckled before he saw to himself.

As he did up his own trousers, John turned and started to fix Gale's hair, putting it back in place before picking up the hat Gale hadn't noticed had fallen off and wiping it clean of dirt against his own slacks. He popped it just right on Gale’s head and grinned bright and boyish.

“Goddamn poster boy, Buck Cleven. Have you as a pin up any day.”

Gale smirked back. “Not Alice from Dallas?”

John barked. “If I never met you, Buck, I’d let that woman throw me around however she wanted.”

They kept a safe distance between them as they emerged from the alley and joined the meagre pedestrian traffic hurrying out to an evening’s entertainment, not paying two soldier boys any attention

“But you did meet me.” No doubt about it, Gale Cleven sounded smug.

“Yes I did. Best damn day of my life.”

And Gale laughed loud and free into the sky. “I don’t know. We’ve got the rest of the night ahead of us. Let me know in the morning.”

[orchidyoonkook]

Under The Willow Tree | MYG

Title: Under The Willow Tree   

Pairing: Bad Boy!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (T) | One Shot, Small Town AU, S2F2L, Implied Age Gap, Slow Burn, Angst, Touch of Fluff, Darker Subject Matter, First Kiss, Silce of Life

Summary: The town outcast shows up in the one place you find solace from it’s residents. The people you force yourself to fit in with, even though you never want to be anything like them. Will he ruin your only place of salvation, or become the most unlikely friend?

Warnings: PG16, some not necessarily positive non-specific religious discussions, people using religion in a negative may, plot twisty, cursing, kissing, semi-apparent abandonment issues, discussions of dead parents and guardians, mentions of alcoholism in a parent, mentions of illness in a parent, yoongi has tattoos and a motorcycle, motorcycle lessons, longing, mishandled emotions, catharsis.

Word Count: 7401

Release Date: April 10, 2023, 4:05PM

A/N 1: This happened due to a writing prompts post I shared sometime in late march. I’m quite proud of it considering I hadn’t planned anything so the entire story was written as I was writing. Very different than my normal writing process. 

A/N 2: Thank you endlessly to @borahae-k​, @katykatmeow​, @here4btsfics​ and @phthartic-fox​​ for beta’ing this. I love you all for your help, support and kindness. 

It happened under a willow tree. A weeping willow.

Your favourite willow, to be specific. Even though there’s just the one.

It’s by the pond deep in the woods behind your house, where you watch ducks swim through the long, wispy branches that just reach its shore. Where you sit at the base, waiting for the sun to set the sky ablaze with colour as it falls into the horizon for another good night's sleep.

The one under which you had your first kiss.

You’d been waiting. Wanting it to be special, with the right person.

But a brief brush of soft, pink lips with the last person you ever expected had you wanting more, more, more.

It’d been a few months since he started coming to the willow. You’d assumed for the same reason you did.

To get away. From anyone and everything.

There aren’t many places in your hometown that allow for privacy, and you imagined he needed it more than anyone. Somewhere far from the residents' judgmental stares that were always nothing less than smothering.

Hailing from a very small, very rural, religious town where everybody’s known everyone for generations, your community is one where you follow in the footsteps of your parents and grandparents before them.

Where your life is already decided for you at birth, whether you know it or not.

Copy. Paste.

Copy.

Paste.

You’re born there; either at home with a midwife or in the one floor hospital down the main road. Raised there; a hand-me-down wearing, bike riding, creek-playing child.

You go to school there; stuck inside the same four walls from the ages of 4 to 18. Get your driver's licence there; from the sheriff after a road test that a 9 year old could pass.

You graduate there; from the same high school your friends, parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents went to. Get a job; in town or on a farm, the only two options there are. 

And marry there; before 25, lest you become a spinster, subject to the gossip vultures also known as your neighbours. Then have some kids before growing old and dying, your permanent resting place dug in the same graveyard as everyone else that came before you.

Copy. 

Paste.

It’s a suffocating fate that petrified you to your core. And you’ve known you didn’t want it for as long as you can remember.

You never liked their rules. Didn’t want to become one of them, to do as they do, live the way they live.

You’d skillfully escaped making any true friends as you grew older, but kept the people you could tolerate close enough to not be bored on weekends. They’re all temporary placeholders in your life anyway, people who sound like robots stuck in the same settings. People who would hold you back.

What’s worst of all is that you don’t share the religion they claim to be so hallowed and wonderful. The one that’s unwittingly forced them all into this life of monotonous repetition.

You dream of more. Of life outside this dreaded purgatory.

Of leaving.

But no one ever leaves. They’re stuck here, in this downwards spiral of life you’re so desperately trying to dig yourself out of. It makes you feel like a fraud, constantly pretending to be one of them. Always wearing a mask just to make it to the next day alive, unharmed by them and their values.

It makes you feel like there’s always a pair of eyes watching, waiting for you to mess up and reveal your blasphemous self.

You’re terrified they’ll discover the truth. Terrified of the ostracisation that will come the second they know you aren’t one of them.

You’ve seen it in real time. What they do to people who don’t conform.

Seen how they treat him.

Two years older. Bleach blond hair and a sleeve full of tattoos. A leather jacket he wears like armour with all black clothes to match. And last, but certainly not least, a motorcycle.

You daydreamed about that bike. Taking it and riding far, far away.

The busybodied people of your town never had a kind word to be said about him. Instead, choosing to call him any and every horrible name under the sun.

Beast, bastard, demon, monster, criminal.

Unable to understand him, understand anyone different.

They herd their children away from him in the streets; parting like the Red Sea when he walks by.

As if he were acid.

As if he was evil itself, and not just a young man.

You’ve never even heard him speak because no one dares to talk to him, worried any contact could turn them, seduce them into whatever his sick ways were.  

And you’re ashamed to admit you’re one of them…sort of.

You aren’t worried about speaking to him, you’re worried about what being seen speaking with him will do to you.

You’re someone whose only salvation from complete and total social isolation relies on fitting in.

And even if it kills you to pretend, you only need to do it for a little while longer.

You just had to make it to college. You’d be the first one in decades to go. Their mindset of ‘you have everything you need here so why bother leaving’  having not once in your life resonated.

You can deal with them and all of their beliefs about what you should do with your life for the short hours of school and occasional shifts at the diner, so long as you can escape to your willow tree, you’ll be okay.

The weeping willow in the middle of the forest behind your house is the only one in the area. You never understood why that is, but it’s your oasis away from everything you hate.

The tips of its branches sway rhythmically in the wind, and moss creeps up its trunk. It’s surrounded by dense, plush grass for you to sit on, and after all the years of sitting in the same spot, a little groove in the shape of your body has formed at its base. 

Its canopy protects you from the outside world, creating a space where you don't have to hide. Where you can proudly be yourself without fear. Where you spend as much of your time as you possibly can to keep your sanity intact.

No one bothers you here.

Your mum died years ago from an illness they never diagnosed, her plot in the town’s graveyard long since filled.

And your dad never notices you gone, too drunk in your house up on the hill to care.

So as long as there’s a constant supply of food on the counter and beer in the fridge, you’re free to do as you please.

Under the willow you do your homework and sketch. You take pictures and eat breakfasts and lunches and dinners. You listen to music and dance under the safety of its shade.

Under the willow you read great adventure novels, and dream you’re the protagonists whisked away on grand adventures. Anywhere but here.

Under the willow is your home away from home. Next to the pond, under the stars.

So it’s to your great surprise when an unexpected guest pries open the curtain of flowing foliage one spring afternoon. A bleached blond, leather jacket wearing, motorcycle riding, guest.

You don’t see him at first, too focused on the sketchpad in front of you. He steps in, and watches you work quietly, waiting for you to notice him.

You fascinate him. Every other girl in town can be found at one of three places, yet you were never at any of them. Not at the restaurant sipping on a milkshake. Not at the library studying. And not at the church volunteering. 

You’re always elsewhere. 

And he’s finally figured out where that is. 

He was nervous at first. To follow you. You’d never spoken but that wasn’t anything new to him. No one in this town ever did. 

Not to him.

But you don’t look down at him like the others do. Or jump out of the way when he walks by. You don’t tear away from his gaze as fast as the others. You hold on, even if for just a second longer. 

Unknowingly, you’ve captivated him more than anyone else he’s ever met.

So he followed you to see where you vanish off to, not expecting you to go into the forest behind your house. 

For a half second he considered you dangerous, because what on earth could you be getting up to in a forest for hours? But as he trailed the sounds of your footsteps and saw the small clearing with the tree, it began to make sense.

After jumping ten feet from seeing something tall and dark in your periphery, you exhale a large breath when you realise you aren’t in any danger, and shake out the nerves. 

You’d normally worry he was there to hurt you, but something in you knew he never would. Never could. Maybe it was the look he gave as he regarded you. 

Soft. Wistful even.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, wary. The first words you’ve ever spoken to him.

Barely contained inside the limits of the willows perimeter, he shrugs, and takes a long look around your little sanctuary.

And as he does, you get your first real look at him.

He’s handsome. Stoically so. And for only a moment do you wonder about all the stories hidden behind his eyes.  

The ones now focused on you.

“Wanted to see where you disappear to. You’re never in town.”

So what if you were never in town? Why did he care? Wait—How did he know? Does he pay attention to you?

…Why you?

You didn’t think he cared to notice anyone in this town, let alone you enough to know you don’t follow the social expectations of someone your age.

To pick up on the fact that you’re never there at all.

It makes a million things run through your mind—Why does he care about where you go? What about you is so special? Does he even know your name?—before one resounding thought hits you like a ton of bricks.

Can you trust him?

No one else in this town does, but all of their reasons are superficial bullshit.

All you know is you don’t know the first thing about him, and that now he knows about the one place you feel safe.

“That’s intentional,” you say, cautious. Not giving away anything but not saying much either.

“Can’t blame you,” he responds, before checking out the rooftop of bright green and muttering, “Eyes and ears everywhere.”

Those four words alone are all you need. 

He gets it.

“Yeah.”

Maybe you can trust him.

Observing each other for a silent minute, there seems to be an unspoken understanding forming between the two of you.

And he shoves his hands in his pockets, asking, “Mind company?”

You think about it for only a second.

No. No you didn’t.

“As long as you’re quiet. I’m trying to focus,” pointing the eraser end of your pencil to the sketchpad on your lap. “The cattail leaves are the hardest to get the lines right.”

He nods, finally breaking free of his position at the branch's edge. Nearing the base of the tree, he crouches down, about a quarter of the trunk's diameter away from you. It’s close enough to still see each other, but far enough to not bump into one another.

And before nestling in fully, he extends a tattooed hand to you.

“Yoongi.”

An introduction.

“Y/N,” you return, putting your pencil down in the crease of your pad and shaking.

His hand is calloused, the ones you get from years of working with your hands. And strong, a firm grip. The kind you’d want to pull you up if you were dangling over a cliff. 

So many stories contained in a 3 second touch. Yet you find yourself wanting to know all of them.

Releasing, he settles in.

What surprises you most about the whole encounter isn’t his arrival, or speaking to him for the first time, or even the handshake.

It’s that when he’s comfortable, with one leg up for an elbow to rest upon, he digs a book out from the confines of his jacket.

Jules Verne, The Mysterious Island.

Your favourite.

Spring fades into a wonderful summer of late nights and early mornings. Of beautiful blue skies and vivid sunsets you appreciate a little more now that you have someone to share them with.

Yoongi comes almost, if not, every day to the willow. Always a different book in hand. Always one of the classics.

The Iliad, 1984, Jane Eyre, Moby Dick, Anna Karina, Dracula, Little Women, Frankenstein, Catcher in the Rye, and those are just the ones you can remember because you’ve read them too. Some of them more than once.

You never expected to have anything in common with the boy that sits next to you. But from the little you’ve spoken to one another over the months, you’ve found that you share so much more than just reading habits.

On a warm April afternoon he told you he reads because he loves it but also to escape the daily hell that is your town.

    “Mmm, what’s your favourite?” you’d asked.

    Yoongi was lying down with an arm behind his head, staring into the treetop. Brave New World sat opened and facedown on his chest, his hand resting atop it.

    “Pride and Prejudice.”

    That was the last answer you expected.

    “Why?”

    He lifts his head to look at you.

    “I thought the answer would’ve been obvious.”

After a cold drink on a hot June morning he told you his dreams of moving across the country. As far away as he could get.

    “Just have to save up enough money first.”

    You wondered how he made any. He definitely didn’t work anywhere in town…maybe waiting to inherit?

    Who knew?

    Both on a blanket you’d brought, Yoongi’s lying opposite and beside you, his feet by your hips. He used his balled up jacket as a pillow while you sat in your usual spot, capturing the way the branches swayed in your sketchpad.

    He’d taken to reading to you while you drew, including you in the grand stories he now knew you loved to read too.

    That day he had The Great Gatsby, a story you’d read about 20 times.

    You often dreamed of attending one of his parties. Of seeing the green light across the way, or having a conversation with Nick, why he stayed.

    “Are you anywhere close?” you asked, in reference to his saving goals.           

    “Getting there,” was all he gave.

And on a miserable, rainy night in the middle of August, is when you learned he’s all on his own.

    Sitting beside each other, you both huddled underneath his jacket for what little protection from the rain it could give. Water droplets fell from the tips of his bangs as he spoke.

    “My parents died in a car crash when I was 9, and then my grandma who took care of me, when I was 15.”

    You grieved for him as he told you his story.

    How he had to raise himself.

    Just like you did.

    “I’m sorry,” you’d replied gently. Softly. Knowing how it felt to have no one support you. No one to help you.

    Knowing how it felt to be alone.

    You understood.

    You did, you did, you did.

    Yoongi just stared at the ground, unable to meet your eyes. And you’d wondered if any of the water on his face was salty as he breathed out a quiet and heartbreaking, “Thank you.”  

    It made you question how many kind words he’d heard since his family passed.

    And also incredibly pissed off at the people in your town for how they’d treated him.

    How you’d…treated him.

    A silent promise was made then and there. Never having felt more embarrassed and furious with yourself than in that moment. You’d learned your lesson, and hoped that offering up your own piece of vulnerability might help him feel not so alone.

    Though you watched the rain turn the pond into a canvas of vibration as you did. Words dragged from the deepest parts of your soul, burning the back of your throat as they left.

    “My dad hasn’t been sober a day since my mom died. His eyes are turning yellow,” you said, hugging yourself to stop shaking, convinced yourself it was because of the cold.

    Even though it was August.

    “He doesn’t recognize me most of the time.”

    You closed your eyes, a familiar tang washing over your tongue as you licked the water dripping from your lips.     He gave no response, but an arm found its way over your shoulders and squeezed.

    He understood.

It’s the beginning of September. The air’s started to nip at your cheeks, and the ground crunches a little more everyday with all of the leaves falling underfoot.

The tips of the willows leaves have begun to turn the colour of the morning sun, and by the time mid October rolls around, it’ll look like golden hour every hour of the day.

Yoongi finally tells you about the job he has at a mechanic's in the next town over. He explains how they don’t pay him nearly what they should, but he doesn’t complain because every cent brings him closer to leaving.

Just him and his bike.

You turn sheepish.

“Can I tell you something?”

He sits closer after all this time, more comfortable around one another. Still not enough to touch, not crossing that invisible boundary line, but enough that you don’t have to turn your head much anymore to see his eyes.

Brown and endless.

“Yeah, sure.”

You take a deep breath.

“I kind of always dreamed of taking your bike to get away from here and never come back.” He gives you a look and you shrug. “Seemed the easiest route to take.”

A smile that starts as a smirk turns into a healthy laugh.

“What’s so funny?” You demand. He has to calm himself down a bit before answering.

“You just uhm…don’t seem the criminal type to me, Cattails.”

There’s a flutter of something in your chest at the stupid nickname. For the drawing you did the day you met.

He continues, unaware of the goings on inside you. “Stealing? You? Nah. Not a chance.”

You open your mouth in mock outrage, scrunching your brow and bringing a hand to your chest.

“I’ll have you know I’d make an excellent criminal,” you lie to his face. He knows it too. 

But giving in, you detail the plan you’d always kept in your head for emergencies, heat slowly rising in your cheeks with every word.

“I’d take the key from you when you weren’t looking, duplicate it at the hardware store, and slip it back into your pocket before you ever noticed it was gone. Then go to your place in the middle of the night and be halfway across the country before morning.”

“Oh yeah?” he says with a raised brow you don’t trust.

“Yeah,” you confirm with a little too much faux confidence.

“And where do I keep my key, Y/N? Hmm?”

“Your jacket pocket,” you’d deduced long ago.

“Mmm,” he tsks with a shake of his head. “Nope.”

Oh. Well then it must be,

“Your pants pocket?”  

“Nuh uh, try again.”

Damnit!

You’d never thought much about it. How many places can someone keep a key on them without a bag and it not be in their pockets?

“Ummm, in your wallet?” Far-fetched but worth a shot.

“Ooo,” he blows through pursed lips before smirking at you again, but this one was different. It caused something very deep inside of you to turn to lava. “Good guess, but also no.”

Closing his book and setting it down, Yoongi straightens and reaches inside the collar of his shirt, retrieving a necklace you didn’t know he wore.

It’s small, the key, and almost silver. The colouring is tarnished from years of use, with worn teeth and some lettering at its base.

He holds it against a palm to show you.

“Why there?” You ask, wondering if there’s a reason aside from convenience.

With a sad tug of his lips, he answers. “Bike was my dads. I like to keep him close.”

A tender smile meets your own plush as you stare at the little key, appreciating it more after learning the importance it has to him.

And Yoongi watches you, viewing his ticket to freedom with the biggest eyes he’s ever seen, full of that same compassion and understanding you’ve always given him.

An understanding he didn’t think he’d ever see again from this place.

One he doesn’t know if he deserves.

Before you can respond, he’s taking the chain off and sliding it over your head, hand lingering for a second longer than necessary at your nape.

“Yoongi,” you hesitate.

It’s the first time you’ve said his name out loud.

You like the way it feels on your tongue. Warm, sweet. Like honey.

What you don’t know is he loves the way it sounds coming from you.

You falter. “W-what are you doing?”

“What’s it look like I’m doing?”

“But it’s your key! Don’t you need it?”

“Nah, got a spare in the storage compartment of the bike,” he says, gesturing to the one you now hold in your palms. “This way you won’t have to go through the hassle of stealing it.”

“But I—”

“Keep it,” he cuts you off. “In case you need it more than I do.”

It never leaves your neck.

“You want me to what?” You ask as you walk towards the forest edge, Yoongi trailing on your left.

“Take her out for a spin. See if you even can. You’re the one who has all these grand plans but doesn’t even know how to turn it on,” he explains, referring to his motorcycle.

“Those were just daydreamed plans! I never thought I’d actually use them! What if I crash?”

He was kidding right? He must be.

For all the time you two have spent together, you’ve never spoken or been around one another in public. An unspoken agreement.

What happens under the willow tree, stays under the willow tree.

So to be out in the open? On his bike? You don’t know if you can. Or if you should.

But then you remember a promise you made not long ago.

“You won’t crash,” he says, like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.

“How do you know? Like you said, I don’t even know how to turn it on,” you hmph.

“Because I’ll be there.”

And maybe it’s the tone of voice he uses, or the fact that you trust him, you find yourself saying,

“Okay, fine.”

Minutes later you’re swinging a leg over the bike, and sinking on to the surprisingly comfortable seat.

“Where do I put the key?” You ask, taking it from your neck and handing it over.

Yoongi puts it in the side of the motorcycle, somewhere close to your knee.

“Here,” he shows as he turns it to the ‘ON’ position.

“Oh.”

What a weird place for an ignition. 

“Mhm,” he acknowledges, then points. “Put your hand on the brake, it’s the part that sticks out on the right hand side. Hold it firmly against the handlebar. Don’t roll the handle bar itself back though, okay? That’s the throttle.”

Doing what he says, you hold the brake tight against the handle bar, murmuring an ‘okay’ under your breath.

“Now hit that button there on the right to let the fuel pump start up,” referring to the button beside the brake near your thumb. You do so.

He checks a little gauge on the side near the ignition. Seemingly pleased, he continues. “And now hit the button on the left to start it.”

Following his words once again, the engine roars to life the second the button is pressed, purring powerfully.

You feel exhilarated and a little terrified. But he’s here. You know you’re safe.

Voice a little louder to combat the noise from the motor, he says, “Okay, now on the left handle bar, grab the clutch. I’ll show you how to move into first gear, and look at me,” your eyes meet his, “do not let go of the clutch.”

You nod, but for extra precaution, he clamps his hand over the one you have holding it. You watch as he bends to put your left foot on a pedal and presses it down till you hear a pop, pushing up the kickstand when he rises.

The bike is heavy, now that you’re the only thing keeping it up right, you can feel its weight. And you understand why they’re designed to be able to have your feet on the ground even when sitting. You’d probably fall over otherwise.

“If you’re uncomfortable you let me know, yeah? And if you get scared just do what you’re doing now with this hand,” he squeezes for emphasis, “it’ll take all the power away from the engine and you’ll just coast until you stop, okay?”

“Okay!” You say, more excited by the minute. Your toes and fingertips are starting to tingle.

“I‘m gonna let go and you’re going to very, very slowly let up on the clutch—not all the way. Just enough that you move at about a pedal bike's pace. Let me jog down the road about 50 feet or so, and then you meet me there. Hold tight to the clutch again when you’re about 20 feet from me and I’ll catch you. Sound good?”

Nodding one more time in confirmation, nerves crawl all over your skin. You can’t describe the new feeling fully, but the closest you can find to it is probably the beginnings of an adrenaline rush.

You watch as Yoongi jogs down the road, throws his hands up over his head, and gives you two big thumbs up.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly release some pressure off the clutch and begin to move forwards. You know your feet are supposed to go on the metal foot rests below you, but you're so focused on not falling or crashing that you just stick them out so they don’t touch the ground.

Halting your left hands release at the speed he said to, you cruise along, wind picking up with your increased pace.

Holy shit!

You’re riding a motorcycle! 

You never thought you could, it was just a dream for so long. Something you kept in the back of your mind just for fun, but now you’re actually doing it! Your driving down the road on an actual real life motorcycle!? All by yourself!?

Turns out all you needed was a little encouragement and someone you trust to spot you.

Aiming for Yoongi, you clamp down on the clutch once again, cutting power to the engine. You drift right into his awaiting hands braced for the impact, and he slides a little on the gravel road before getting you to a full stop.

He presses one of the buttons you did earlier and the bike shuts down, allowing you to jump off.

You’re positively giddy.

“Oh my god did you see me?! I just did that! I just drove a motorcycle! Can you believe it?! I can’t believe I just did that!” You don’t even register what you're saying, too full of excitement to care.

Yoongi can’t contain his grin as he gets the bike standing on its own. Your joy is too infectious not to take part in, and he walks over for a high five to celebrate. 

But to his surprise, you bypass his hand completely and embrace him, throwing your arms around his neck.

It takes only a second before he’s enveloping you with his own, not letting the chance to hold you go by.

“Thank you!” You say, before letting go, not even realising what you did. You’re too busy catching your breath from all the rambling and jumping around, still filled with the remnants of your elation.  

Meanwhile, Yoongi can’t get the feeling of your body against him out of his head. How soft you were. How warm. The way you smelled like a mixture of your natural scent and outside.

And he’s asking, “You wanna to go for a ride?” before he can tell himself not too.

The question makes you pause. Was he serious? Because you can’t think of anything you want more.

Staring at him, your answer is far too gentle for someone who was just screeching with joy. 

“Really?”

He nods, still untrusting of his mouth, confirming with a ‘mhm.’

You don’t hesitate. You want to feel like that again.  

Not a minute later he’s giving you the helmet and securing it tightly. He also makes you wear his leather jacket to protect your torso, leaving him in just an oversized black t-shirt and dark ripped jeans.

Swinging a leg over, he pats the seat behind him.

And you’re glad to have the helmet on because without it he would most definitely see your inability to meet his eye. You can barely focus on anything aside from the sight in front of you and being wrapped in the scent of him. But then he gives a tattooed hand to help you hop on, and says,

“You have to put your arms around me and hold on. Otherwise you might fly off the back when we accelerate,” holding his hands behind him to guide yours. 

What? You didn’t think this far. He—you have t—Ummm, well... 

“Okay,” you answer, voice small, letting your hands be guided. 

Despite the loss of his jacket, he’s still deliciously warm, and the heat in your cheeks increases tenfold with your hands now splayed over his abdomen. 

Lightly defined muscles meet your fingertips through the thin material of his shirt and you do your best to memorize them as he turns on the bike and pulls away from the curb.

He starts slower than normal to make sure you’re alright, but when you give him the thumbs up, he speeds up to just over the limit and you hold tight.

You’ve never felt so free, loving the rush of wind that flows over your body from going so fast. It’s pushing a welcomed cold through the fabric of your clothes as your body temperature has only increased since getting on.

You could go anywhere, do anything. Nothing and nobody could stop you.

You want that. You want it so bad. And he gave you the key to be able to. 

Literally.

But now when you think about leaving, you think about leaving with him. Yoongi driving and you sitting right here on the back, nothing but each other, the road, and hope for the future.

Growing confident enough to release your grasp after a few minutes, you raise your hands in the air, and let the wind catch your fingertips.  A whoop of joy leaves you at this newfound feeling he’s given you. 

Then another, and another, before returning them to their place around him.

Yoongi can’t help but smile the biggest he has in years when hearing your squeals of glee.

Because for the first time in a long time, he feels it too.

Yoongi doesn’t come to the willow for almost a week.

He’s never done that since he started coming. Not once.

And you’re worried.

Where is he? Is he okay? You have no idea.

It’s not like you can go looking for him.

And you two aren’t anything anyway, so you shouldn’t even be this worried in the first place. If he’s safe, or in the bottom of a ditch somewhere.

But you can’t help it.

Just like you can’t help the feelings that have blossomed for him over the months. The feelings you didn’t want to admit to yourself for fear of him not returning them.

Yet there they were, and there isn’t anything you can do about them now.

They make you wonder if you’ll ever see him again.

Six days.

It takes him six days to return. Stomping in, and visibly pissed off.

“What’s wrong?” You ask once he’s close enough to hear.

“I’m leaving,” he says flatly, uncaring. Like you asked him what colour the sky was.  

And your stupid, silly little unrequited heart shatters.

“What?”

“I’m leaving. Taking off. Getting out of here. I can’t do it anymore.”

Piece by piece it falls from your chest and into the depths of your stomach.

“B-but why? What happened?”

“I got fired.”

“Fired?”

“Yeah, fired. I tried all week to fix this one stupid mistake I made,” he explains, smoothing over his creased brow with two fingers. “But it cost more to fix than to keep me around, so they fired me. I don’t have the amount of cash I planned for, but I have enough to make it work. And I can pick up odd jobs on the road if I need to.” He nears, extending a tattooed hand. “I just came to get my key and say goodbye.”

Your hand reaches for it, clutching it tightly. You don’t want to give it back.

Who the hell is this? Because you barely recognize him. It certainly isn’t the Yoongi you’ve come to know.

The wonderfully kind, classics reading, dream-sharing, motorcycle instructing, freedom key giving man.

The one who told you about his grandmother, and his parents. Who read you stories while you drew and ate meals together. Who taught you how to ride his motorcycle.

The Yoongi you fell for.

Your Yoongi.

The person currently standing in front of you isn’t him at all.

He’s the hard, cold exterior, crafted over years of verbal and societal abuse. The one everyone avoids at all costs when walking through town. The person he had to become in order to survive.

You don’t know this person.

And you hate it.

You hate it so much it decides to exit your body in the form of tears. Ones of sadness, frustration, and heartbreak.

He’s—he’s leaving. 

Actually leaving.

This place, it’s people.

You...

The few remaining pieces of your heart plunge to the floor, crumbling to dust as they hit. Nothing but a hollow, empty cavern remaining where it once sat.

“But I–you…,” the lump in your throat only getting bigger when you try to speak. You face away from him.

Don’t let him see you cry.

He’s clearly never felt anything close to what you do for him, so suck it up. Reign it in. You do it everyday. So why can’t you do it now?

You don’t get to feel this way!

Shove it back down, get it down!. Crush it all until it’s nothing.

Make it go away. Far, far away. 

Yoongi’s face is falling while you’re taking deep breaths to calm down.

In all of his rage and despair at his terrible week, he’s forgotten who he was speaking to.

His kind hearted, music-sharing, been through hell and back, kickass girl. The one he can call his only true friend.

He’s such an asshole. He hadn’t seen you for almost a week, which killed him in of itself. And then the second he does, all he‘s able to do is spew the frustration and misery he’s been feeling the entire time you were apart.

Nah, he’s worse than an asshole.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t ha—”

But he freezes at the sound of a small, wet inhale.

You’re crying.

He made you cry.

And a regret bigger than the ocean drowns him.

“Hey, wait, please,” he says, rushing over, but you hold out a hand to stop him. “Please, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

He reaches for you again, and again you stop him. You can’t let him comfort you.

Not when he doesn’t realise he’s become the only person in this whole godforsaken, judgemental hellhole of a neighbourhood wasteland you have.

Your grandparents are dead, along with your mum. Your dad’s an abusive drunk, too far gone to remember he has a daughter. You don’t have any aunts or uncles or cousins to rely on, nor do you have any real friends.

You have no one, aside from Yoongi.

And now you won’t even have him.

So you can’t let him comfort you. Can’t let him see you break.

You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.

Because you don’t know if you’ll be able to put yourself back together without him if you do.

But a quiet, “Y/N, please,” imbued with pain you haven’t heard since a rainy August night leaves his lips. A last ditch effort to get you to look at him, to let him help. 

And it breaks you completely, bursting into a million tiny pieces to match your heart on the floor.

An unrestrained sob falls from your mouth, and he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. Yours go to his neck as he drags you onto his lap, gripping tight. 

He holds you through every whimper and hiccup and stuttered inhale and shudder. Through every muttered ‘please don’t go’ and ‘please don’t leave me,’ that escapes, stroking a hand along the back of your head and down your spine, soothing.

He whispers, “it’s okay. I’m right here. It’s okay,” on repeat with the motion. Over and over and over until only occasional sniffles and deep breaths remain.

You hug him tighter as you start to shiver, the warmth created from your breakdown beginning to wear off. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to slide off his jacket and throw it over your shoulders. An instant cocoon of warm and comfort.

When his hands find their place back around your waist, he dares to speak.

“I got you.”

“I know.” And you do. Your voice is a little wobbly, as you’re unmoving from the embrace, but you most definitely do. 

This is your Yoongi. The one you’ve come to know. To trust. 

Of course he’s got you. 

You use one of your long sleeves to dry your eyes and under your nose. With the nearing autumn weather, you’ve returned to occasionally wearing them.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe into his neck after a long beat of silence.

“What could you possibly be sorry for, Cattails?”

The return of your nickname has a grin threatening to emerge.

“For freaking out. I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

“Don’t be,” he says firmly. “I sprung that on you in such a shit way because I was in an even shittier mood. And you clearly weren’t prepared to hear it. I should’ve known better, so don’t you dare be sorry about anything,” he loosens his hold to pull back and look at you. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

You look down, hiding, not wanting him to see you like this.  

“None of that,” he whispers, and brings a finger to your chin, tilting up.

It doesn’t meet much resistance.

Your eyes are still a bit swollen and patchy, but it’s the concern in his that makes you crack the smallest of smiles, if only to see his worry erased.

He already has enough on his plate. No need to add to it.

Not able to offer much more than a quirk of the lip, you’re relieved that it’s enough when he starts to wear one of his own.

It’s then you realise your position. Like the sight of it cleared your brain fog.         

You’re kneeling over his lap, sitting on his thighs, face inches from his. One of his hands is holding your chin up while the other rests low on your waist, your own still loose around him.

So close, yet so far away.

Because he’s leaving.

And that thought alone allows you to throw caution to the goddamn window. It’s not going to matter once he’s gone, and you’ve wanted it to be with someone special.

He’s as special as they come.

Leaning forward, you close your eyes and the gap between the two of you.  

Eyelids fluttering as your lips brush his. Soft, and gentle.

Like him.

You hold only long enough to make sure it counts before pulling back.

It’s funny, really.

It was just a few seconds, but you already find yourself wanting so much more with him. An unfamiliar but welcomed electric pulse finds itself running through your blood at the thought, and it makes you want his lips everywhere. 

Your mouth, your jaw, your neck.

Anywhere he can reach.  

Sparks pool inside you. Sparks and butterflies and fast flowing lava.

You let yourself relish in the glorious feeling for a single moment, before the reality of what you just did sinks in.

And then you’re scared.

Terrified, actually.

To open your eyes, see his face. His reaction.

What if he hated it? What if he’s never felt anything but platonic affection towards you and now you’ve gone and done this?

Sure, he’s leaving. But now that you think about it, does him leaving mean you’ll never see him again?

What if you just ruined everything?

Teeth sinking into the plush of your bottom lip, you take a peek.

For the second time today you feel your heart breaking, this time at the look on his face.

Is it shock? Or worse.  

Disgust?

Doesn’t matter.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. Not knowing what else to say.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, trying to get out of his hold, but he keeps you there. Unyielding. And you start rambling. “I shouldn’t have done that. You clearly don’t—It’s just that you’re leaving and I—“

Lips on yours shut you up.

It’s fervent and needy and passionate as he pulls you closer by the hips, desperately trying to get you as close to him as physically possible. Your nails drag over his scalp as your fingers snake through his blond locks. They elicit a delicious groan from his mouth that you consume with your own.

It’s the most intoxicating sound you’ve ever heard, and you want more of it. So you do it again, and again, and again.

He moves down your jaw and neck, sucking at the tender flesh near your pulse point, and your mouth drops open at the feeling.

You’ve always wondered, but…you didn’t know it could feel like this.

Every touch, every whisper, every press of his lips to yours feels amazing. He’s pulling pleasure out of places you wouldn’t have thought possible before him. And you never want to go back to not knowing.

The sweetest of whimpers leaves your mouth as he gently bites a soft spot, then soothing the glorious pain he created with the kindness of his tongue.  

Yoongi swears to any god who will listen that he’ll do whatever they want so long as he gets to hear that sound repeatedly and for the rest of his life.

He returns to your lips and says, “come with me.”

You’re so focused on feeling that it takes a moment for his words to land. “What?”

“Leave with me. Let’s get the fuck outta here, and never look back, the both of us. Together.”

Yoongi looks so serious but..

He—he can’t be serious can he? 15 minutes ago he was going on and on about leaving and needing his key back and saying goodbye.

And now?

Sensing your hesitance, he punctuates each of the next three words with a kiss. 

“Come. With. Me.”

It makes your answer arrive without really thinking. You don’t need to think. Not when you know deep in your newly reconstructed heart that it’ll always be the same whether you think about it or not.

So long as you’re with him, you know you’ll be,

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” He questions like he can’t believe it. Can’t believe you'd agree.

You make sure there isn’t a single doubt in his head as you look him dead in the eyes and confirm.

“Yes, Yoongi,” another kiss. “I’ll go with you.”

He pulls you into him for what feels like a million more under your shared willow tree.

Your salvation.

And you know they’re going to be the firsts of many, many more to come.  

Three days later, and two bags packed full of all your earthly possessions, you’re on the back of Yoongi’s motorcycle.

In those three days he’s prepared everything else you’ll need. He’s gotten a cute leather jacket and helmet for you, some reading materials for the road, snacks, drinks. A place by his side for the foreseeable future.

In the same span of time, you’ve given him a home in your heart, someone he can rely on other than himself. Talk to, trust, experience life with.

Something he hasn’t had in nearly ten years. 

Something he never wants to lose again.

He swings a leg over and you unclip the chain from your neck, handing him the key to the bike, to your now shared future.

Driving out of town—straight down Main Street—you watch as all the people you grew up with, who you almost destroyed yourself to fit in with, gawk.

Watch as they judge you for being with him, your best friend. For leaving, and not doing what they all expected of you.

For not being like one of them.

Because you’re not one of them. 

You never have been.

And just like the dust that flies behind the wheels, you feel weightless, not giving a single fuck what they think for the first time in your life.

You don’t have to anymore.

You’re free.

A/N 3: Thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: I have nothing to say for myself. The Jummy has been making me feral for the last few days and I had to cleanse myself somehow… so I figured writing smut was the best method for that. (It makes sense to me, don’t worry about it) It starts out a little angsty with Jake being insecure, but don’t worry bc it heats up VERY quickly. As always, sorry for any typos. Also this is probably my most favorite thing that I've ever written so I hope you guys enjoy.

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, body insecurity, body worship, a little bit of cockwarming if you squint, unprotected sex, p in v sex, 18+ MINORS DNI 

Word Count: 3593

Preview: 

“You’re fucking solid, Jake. Powerful. You fuck me so hard. You think someone built like him could fuck me the way you do?” You shake your head. “Wouldn’t even come close. No one can fuck me the way I need it besides you.” 

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

Admittedly, it had taken you a little while to realize that something was off with Jake – far longer than it should have, given how long the two of you have been together. But, in your defense, Jake Kiszka is a master at hiding when something is wrong. 

The first warning sign had been a few weeks ago when Jake had declined going out to his favorite steak restaurant, claiming that he was too tired and that he’d had a late lunch anyway so he wasn’t super hungry. You’d been doubtful, but the two of you stayed in for the night and Jake had distracted you beyond the point of awareness of anything other than his tongue and fingers. He'd fucked you slow and deep that night and needless to say, you’d quickly forgotten about it.

The second came during a dinner with him and his brothers. You, Jake, Sam, Josh, and Josh’s partner had gone out to a local Thai place that all of you loved. You all frequented it regularly and got the exact same dishes every time – which is why you had been confused when Jake ordered something else. You’d looked at him in shock, as did everyone else at the table, but he’d simply shrugged and said that he wanted to try something new. When the food had arrived, you couldn’t help but notice that the dish was much smaller than the one he usually got, but he seemed to enjoy it so you didn’t say anything. Again, you’d allowed yourself to forget about it. 

The third warning (and arguably the most obvious one) happened just two weeks later on an impromptu lake house trip that you all went on. Deciding to enjoy the last bit of time that they had until tours started again, Danny had suggested that you all spend the weekend swimming and hiking at the lake, just like you all used to do when you were younger. It had been a wonderful weekend, and you almost didn’t notice that anything was wrong… almost. 

The first day there had been spent hiking and goofing around inside, but your second day was always reserved for swimming. That morning, as you were changing into your swimsuit, you watched as Jake pulled on his swim trunks; nothing out of the ordinary. But what was strange was that he then put on a swim shirt, hiding his gorgeous torso from view. 

“Why are you putting that on?” You asked, grabbing your towel from where you’d hung it on the bedroom door. 

“I don’t want to get sunburned.” He said, perching his signature sunglasses on his nose. 

You opened your mouth to tell him that he’s never cared about getting burned before (much to your annoyance and worry) but he swiftly left the room. You trailed behind him, staring at his shoulders through the swim shirt and worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You couldn’t tell if he was actually being weird or if you were just overthinking. 

The rest of the trip had gone completely normal, with the boys acting like literal children in the water while you relaxed and sunbathed – occasionally joining them in the lake to participate in their craziness. But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you were overthinking, you couldn’t help but worry as you watched Jake in that stupid swim shirt. 

The entire drive home you’d wanted so desperately to bring it up to him, but you weren’t even sure what you were bringing up. Distantly, all those other little warning signs tinkled like little bells in the back of your mind, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Jake was acting completely normal. So what he was too tired to go to dinner one night? And why was it such a big deal that he wanted to try a different dish at a Thai restaurant? And maybe he really did just want to avoid getting sunburnt. And sure, you and him hadn't been intimate since that night he declined going out... but a few weeks wasn't really all that long in the grand scheme of things. Besides, even though it was between tours, Jake was still almost constantly busy with something – photoshoots, interviews, spending time in the studio. He was tired from work (and so were you). Nothing to be worried about. You shook your head at yourself, willing the little ball of anxiety in your gut to go away. 

And it did. Until just two nights later, when Jake asked you to turn the light off before he fucked you. 

“What? Why?” He was looking down at you, palms planted on either side of you and his weight settled on the bed between your thighs. He had on nothing but a plain t-shirt and his boxers. 

“No reason.” He said, reaching over to turn the bedside lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. He sunk his weight back on his heels to pull his shirt over his head before diving back down to attach his mouth to your breasts, suckling and biting at the sensitive buds. His distraction almost worked. 

“Jake, no.” You said, sitting up to stare at him. “Why do you suddenly want to turn the light off while we fuck?” 

“More romantic?” His words came out as a question, but he didn’t give you time to respond as he leant back down, intent on carrying on without explanation. 

“More romantic for me to not be able to see you?” He didn’t answer, instead beginning to place hot kisses down your throat, teasing the spot that he knew you loved. But you weren’t backing down. Not this time. 

“Jake, stop. Just stop.” 

He sat back up and you stared at him, trying to read his face in the dark. 

“You and I both know you’ve been acting weird. I’m not doing anything with you tonight until you tell me what the fuck has been going on with you.” You told him, your tone leaving no space for debate. 

“How have I been weird?” He asked, his voice far too cool and smooth for it to be genuine. 

“For one, you didn’t want to go to the steakhouse the other night. You know, the one you never say no to?”

“Y/n, I was tired. And full from lunch. How is that weird?” 

“You got something different when we went and got Thai with the guys!” You said, voice raising in volume as he kept staring at you like you were crazy. 

“Okay…” He said slowly, like he was speaking to a child. “And is that a crime? Am I not allowed to order something different?” 

“No. But you love that Thai dish that you always get!” Your hands flew about madly as you spoke, all the worry that you had pushed down finally coming to the surface. “And the swim shirt, Jake. You’ve never cared about getting burnt. Like ever. Why did you start caring now? And now you want to turn the light off while we fuck!” You were yelling now but you didn’t care. You were tired of ignoring that something was wrong. You didn’t know what it was – the dots not connecting between all these events yet. But you knew in your heart that something was wrong. 

“Please, Jake. We haven't slept together in weeks... which isn't like us at all! Just tell me what’s wrong so I don’t have to start making assumptions!” You had the inkling of one already, and you were praying that it was wrong. 

He stayed silent for a long moment, and the tension in the room was so thick you could probably cut it with a knife. Finally, his shoulders fell and he dropped his head. His hair fell on either side of his cheeks, framing his pretty face. 

“I’ve just… put on a few extra pounds recently. That’s all. It’s no big deal.” 

You stared, mouth falling open as the horrible assumption that had been plaguing your mind since the lake was confirmed. 

“So?” You asked, genuinely at a loss over him making this such a big deal. 

“So, I need to lose them. And maybe a few more.” You hated how sure he sounded as he said the words, like he’d already given this so much thought –and he clearly has. “I should've done it years ago to be honest."

“Jake, I-” You stopped, overwhelmed and at a loss for what to say. You wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him; scream in his face how wrong he was for feeling so low about his body. 

“You don’t have to say anything. It’s the truth. I’ve let it get too far and I have to slim down before tour starts.”

“Why?” The question is all your brain can come up with. You want to slap yourself for that being what your brain decided to spew at him first. He sighed deeply and hung his head. 

“Because, y/n. The outfits they make for me are always open chested – and people have already made comments about my weight in the past. So I want to slim down before we start again.” 

“Jake, those people have no right to make comments about your appearance. You’ve said that yourself in the past. Why do you suddenly care now?”

“Because they’re right about this. I don’t understand why you don’t get it!” 

For a split second, his raised voice hurts you, slicing through you as he snaps at you. But you know that it’s coming from his own hurt – the hurt that he’s been keeping to himself. 

“Jake,” you say quietly, “I’m confused because I think you’re the sexiest person on the planet. I love the way you look. I don’t care if you feel like you’ve put on some weight. You’re still just as sexy as you were before.” You pause, sliding up in bed so you can see him more clearly in the dark. “If I’m being totally honest, I think you’re even hotter now.” 

His eyes widen at your confession and even in the dark you can see the blush that overtakes his face. 

“You do?”

“Fuck yeah, I do. C’mere.” You beckon him to come and lay against the headboard. He complies, crawling his way up next to you and laying back. You toss one leg over his waist and settle on top of him, straddling him as you place your palms on his chest. 

“Do you know what I mean when I say ‘I love you?’” You ask him quietly. 

He nods his head. 

“I don’t think you do.” You lean your head down to press your lips softly to his for a moment before pulling away. “It means that I love all of you. Ever fucking thing about you – on the inside and on the outside.”

“But it’s embarrassing.” He whispers, eyes pinned on yours. “I don’t like being the heavier twin.” 

The phrase sounds foreign on his tongue and you realize that it's because he's quoting something – no doubt a shitty comment from some asshole who claims to be a fan. You have half a mind to slap the shit out of him. His words fill you with so much anger you feel like you’re going to explode. 

“Jacob, do not EVER compare yourself to Josh. Ever.”

“But-” 

“But nothing.” You cut him off, pressing your pointer finger to his soft lips to silence him before cupping his cheek with your palm. 

“If I wanted to be with Josh or someone built like Josh, I would be. But I don’t. I want you, Jake. As you are." You shake your head at him. "You're not fat, Jake. Like at all. You literally have nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

He’s looking at you with shiny eyes and you wish your words would be enough to convince him. But he’s nothing if not hardheaded, so you know it’s going to take more than a few flowery words to get him to see the truth. 

“I’m going to turn the light back on.” You say gently. “And I’m going to show you how much I love you. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He whispers, and you can practically see it as his whole body tenses beneath you. 

You reach up and turn the lamp back on, washing the room in golden light. Jake is still looking at you, his eyes wide and nervous. You give him a little smile as you settle back down on him. Forgoing anymore words, you press a feverish kiss to his neck, licking and sucking down the hollow of his throat. His breath stutters in his chest as you slide your ass downwards. His cock is soft after your conversation but you know you can get him back to where he was at the start of the night.

“I love your body, Jake. These pretty nipples.” You swirl your tongue around them, drawing a breathy moan from him. 

You reach out your arms and find his hands, laying limply at his side. You lace your fingers with his and bring his left hand to your lips, kissing his calloused fingers. “I love your hands. I love how they look when you play guitar – fast and merciless and so fucking talented. And yet they’re still so gentle when they touch me.” You slide his index finger between your lips, swirling your tongue around the digit before releasing it. “And I love the way you make me cum on your fingers. You’re better at that than anyone I’ve ever been with before.”

“Really? Better than anyone?” He asks, the whispers of his usual cocky self shining through.

“Really.” You assure him, dropping his hands to focus your attention elsewhere. “Can I tell you a secret?” You ask him, looking up at his flushed face through your lashes. 

“Yeah. Tell me.” 

“Your stomach is probably my favorite part about you.” You say, delicately trailing your fingers down his sternum and over the curve of his belly. 

He scoffs. 

“You’re just saying that.” 

You shake your head. 

“I’m not. It’s the truth, Jake. I fucking love it. I love watching the sweat drip down it while you play on stage. It makes me so fucking wet, imagining licking it off you.” You bring your mouth downwards, biting at his soft sides as your hands knead into the flesh. You suck his skin between your teeth, creating a purple mark just to the left of his belly button. “Everything about you makes me wet, but your belly does it the most.” 

As if in answer, your pussy throbs at the sight of the hickey you left there. You can see on his face that he still isn’t convinced so you slide off your panties and kick them to the side – leaving you in nothing but your tank top. You rise slightly off the bed and swipe a finger through your folds, collecting the wetness that’s pooled there. 

“See?” You say, allowing him to see your juices drip from your fingers. Wordlessly, he grabs your wrist and pulls your hand to his mouth. He wraps his lips around your finger, swirling his tongue to lap up your wetness. He moans at the taste of you and you pull your hand free. 

“Believe me yet?” You ask him with a sly smile. 

“Getting there.” He gives you a cheeky grin and you can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your stomach at the sight. 

You give his belly one last lick before moving downwards, avoiding where his half-hard cock lies in his boxers. 

“And I fucking love your thighs.” You tell him, sliding your palms up and down them as you speak. “So thick and strong. Makes me so fucking horny.” 

You trail kisses up the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, and the muscles twitch as you get closer to where he wants you. 

“You’re fucking solid, Jake. Powerful. You fuck me so hard. You think someone built like Josh could fuck me the way you do?” You shake your head. “They couldn’t even come close. No one can fuck me the way I need it besides you.” 

“Y/n… fuck.” His pupils are blown wide and his breathing is heavy. Even his chest is flush with his arousal. His cock is rock hard in his boxers now, tenting the fabric – straining them so much it looks like they might burst at the seams.

“And this,” you say, finally pressing your palm to his dick. “I don’t even have the words.” He groans at the pressure and his hips shift upwards off the bed in search for more. You give it to him, sliding his underwear down and off him. His cock springs free, slapping his stomach. You spit into your hand and wrap it around him, stroking him slowly. “You have such a pretty cock, Jake. It makes me feel so fucking good. Reaches places inside me no one else can.”

He groans loudly as you pump him, and you watch in awe as his eyes screw shut in pleasure. Your mouth waters and your cunt throbs at the sight and sound of him. Deciding that neither of you should have to wait for it tonight, you rip your tank top off quickly before sinking down on him, taking in his thick cock inch by inch. You moan and whimper as he stretches you, the familiar burn feeling so good. 

“Oh fuck!” Jake groans, opening his eyes to look at you taking his cock. “You’re so fucking beautiful, y/n. Look at you.” 

You still as you sink all the way down on him. He���s watching you with dark eyes and sweat is beginning to bead on his temples. 

“Jake…” you whine, beginning to rock your hips into his. 

“Shit, you’re so fuckin’ tight.” He growls, gripping your hips with his strong hands, kneading his fingers roughly into your flesh. 

You rise off him almost completely, before plunging back down on him – causing the both of you to moan loudly. You set a brutal pace, slamming down on him as he thrusts his hips up to meet yours. You drop your gaze downward to stare as each thrust causes movement in his soft belly, and you wail in pleasure and shock as you cum so hard you see stars. It tears through you so quickly you aren’t expecting it at all, and your movements still as waves of pleasure wash over you. When you finally come back to the world of the living, you want to be embarrassed for falling apart like that – but you can’t with the way Jake is looking at you. 

His jaw is open and his eyes are so dilated they look black. He looks like he wants to eat you alive. You both sit there, neither of you moving, as he looks at you like you’re the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. 

“Fuckin' hell.” He says, voice husky and broken.

 “Haven’t cum that easy since I was a fucking teenager.” You say, still a little embarrassed, despite his reaction.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” Jake confesses, flipping you over quickly so that he’s on top. 

You know he saw where you were looking when you came – he’d been staring at your face the whole time. As embarrassing as that blatant display of lust had been, you can’t help but be thankful that he saw. There’s no way he can doubt your earlier words after seeing that. 

“Fuck me, Jake. Fuck me hard.” You plead, hooking your legs around his waist and pulling him in closer to you. “Fuck me the way only you can.” The last part comes out as a whisper and his cock twitches as you say them. He plants his forearms on either side of you, caging you in with his body. 

“I’ll fuck you every day until the day I die.” He says, before plunging into you again. 

There’s no delay now as he snaps his hips into yours – the force of each thrust causing your whole body to move upwards. His powerful thighs drive into you with fucking monster truck force and the sound of his skin hitting yours is loud and obscene. You rake your nails down his back, undoubtedly drawing blood as he hits that special spot inside of you that only he can. 

“Oh fuck, right fucking there. Jesus Christ!” You scream, digging your fingers into his sides and squeezing. 

“You’re so fucking tight, y/n. I’m gonna fucking cum.” Sweat drips down his neck and chest and you take the opportunity to lean upwards and lick it off him, moaning at the salty taste of him. 

“Dirty fucking girl. Jesus.” 

His thrusts are growing sloppy and erratic and you can feel his cock twitching inside you. You clench around him and the sound that falls from between his lips is practically a whine. 

“Do it, Jakey. Give it to me.” 

And that’s all it takes for him to spill inside you. 

“Fuck!” He growls, sinking his teeth into the skin of your shoulder as he cums. The sting brings you over the edge too, and you clench around him as you cum – milking him for all he’s got. 

When the two of you finally resurface, Jake pulls out of you and collapses on the bed next to you. You turn on your side to see his hilariously fucked out expression. You giggle. 

“What?” He asks, turning his head to face you, a sweet smile on his lips. 

“Do you know what I mean now when I say I love you?”

His smile widens – his beautiful white teeth on display as he scoots closer to you. 

“Yeah, I think so.” 

He kisses you – deliberate and passionate. 

"Jake," you say as he pulls away, "if you want to lose weight for you, then I don't care. But if you're only doing it because you feel like you have to..." You trail off, heart heavy at the thought that he had been feeling so down on himself without you realizing.

He smiles at you – the widest and most genuine one he's given you all night, and he slots his lips against yours in another kiss.

“Thank you.” He says as he pulls away from you. "But I think you've convinced me that I'm good with how I am right now." Seriousness overtakes his soft expression as he looks at you. "Thank you."

“It was literally my pleasure. I love getting to worship you.” You lean your head on his shoulder and he pulls the covers up over the two of you and turns off the lamp. “All of you.”

He chuckles, and the sound rumbles in his chest where you’re pressed against him. 

“I love you too, y/n. All of you.”

---------

Taglist:

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@gold-mines-melting

@objectsinspvce

@starshine-wagner

@ohgodthefeeling-gvf

Let me know if you'd like to be added to my permanent taglist <3

[rishiimaa]

HI HI! I was the person who requested the “jjk with a child who’s tooth was growing or lost a tooth” which was 😮‍💨🤌. Then I had another thought where jjk characters child/children first start crawling/walking 🤔(I’m having a baby fever rn) please lmk if these requests are bothering you 😭😭

Nope! Requests’ll never bother me, and if they do, it’s not your fault, I’d just turn the requests off, so please, do more requests! I love it when people give me attention anyways!

Anywho… onto the fanfic!

Fluff

Yuji, Megumi, Gojo, Geto

Yuji

——————————————————————

Yuji would be the reason your son walk, he’d be watching football and cheering on, and he’d feel a bump on his leg, only to find out his son was standing!

——————————————————————————————

“Wh— God damn it! How do you fucking fumble that?!” Yuji yelled at the top of his lungs, earning a glare at you from the kitchen.

“Watch your mouth in front of C/N and stop yelling, I don’t want his first words to be that.” you narrowed your eyes at Yuji, easily making him shrink in size as he scratches his neck.

“Sorry, babe, it’s just I can’t understand why my team is fumbling so many balls! Especially the easier ones…I could totally catch that…”

You roll your eyes before getting back to your cooking, and you let out a breathy laugh, it was absolutely impossible to stay mad at Yuji, he’s just too sweet for his own good…so sweet that you even feel bad for scolding him.

Yuji laid back onto the couch in a pout, this game was totally scripted…all these years of rooting this stupid team just to lose again…so annoying.

While Yuji was having his temper tantrum, C/N, required his father’s attention, he tried reaching for him, throwing toys, making random babble noises, and even throwing toys at him! (Which never really makes it that far…But it’s worth a try!)

But nothing gained Yuji’s attention, his focus was on the game and only the game, which made C/N mad.

Suddenly…C/N made an attempt to stand by himself, by placing his feet on the floor and allowing to push himself up, just like his daddy does!

C/N began to finally wobble towards Yuji, slowly, but surely, C/N made it to Yuji’s leg, and began to punch it softly, this caught his attention, so when he looks down to his knees, he saw a very close standing wide-eyed C/N.

The silence grew…and both stared at eachother for a while, before Yuji finally realized what was going on.

“HOLY SHIT—!”

“Yuji!”

Megumi

——————————————————————

When C/N finally learns how to crawl, it took everything in Megumi not to cry, because if he did, he’d never hear the end of it from you…of course he ends up crying anyway…

——————————————————————————————

It was a normal day with the family, since it was the weekend, everyone was off work…So the Fushiguro family was stuck at home, Megumi was reading a book, you were watching TV (and a bit of baby clothes shopping), and little C/N was just laying on her belly on a blanket on the floor full of toys.

You continued to show Megumi the baby clothes you “scrolled” upon, but Megumi could never be irritated, he loved to hear you talk.

“Megumi! Look! This one has cute little sheep on it! You can also match with her—“

“Pass.”

Megumi groans, avoiding eye contact, you seethed at him with the sudden interruption.

“Pardon me? What gives you the right to say no to me? I pushed out C/N for two hours straight, and you can even match with her?”

Megumi groaned once again before pulling you on top his lap and giving you a light peck on your cheek.

“I meant with the sheep one, do the wolf one, that one’s cooler.” Megumi points at the screen, you let out a snort.

“What—“

“You’re so cute Megs, who knew i’d be married and have a baby with the cutest man in the world.”

“Could you not call me cute? That’s embarrassing…”

While you and Megumi were gushing, the ball that C/N was playing with rolled away, she tried to reach for it instead.

She made a sound, to alert her parents, but to no avail, no one responded. She pouted before lifting herself off the ground and deciding to crawl by herself to get the ball.

“Megumi, where’s C/N?”

Megumi looked over at the empty pile of blankets, both of you quickly went to your feet, but as you both stood up, you see a little C/N reaching for a small red ball.

You squealed with joy and you ran to your daughter and picked her up, simply out of pure excitement, you didn’t even let her finish crawling, but Megumi simply just stood there in silence.

then suddenly…you hear sniffs over your squealing, you look over at Megumi, covering his face, as the room fell silent.

“Megumi…Megumi are you crying over—“

“Shut up…”

Megumi said, wiping his tears but of course, knowing you, you didn’t shut up.

“Aww!! Look C/N, see how much your papa loves you? All those times he’s been mean doesn’t mean anything after all!” You tightly hug C/N, before she asks to be put down.

You put her down, when you do, C/B begins to crawl to her Papa, making happy baby noises as she reaches for Megumi for carrying. This definitely snaps Megumi as he lifts her up, hugging C/N once again with small sniffles sounding off…except this time it’s a bit louder…

You snap a picture, once again.

“I am definitely hanging this up.”

Gojo

——————————————————————

It takes Gojo so many attempts to get C/N to walk, and when she does…Hysterical, absolutely an abomination of tears and a camera roll full of pictures that he puts in his wallet.

——————————————————————

“Come on sweet pea…! I know you can do it! Walk to daddy, I got you!” Gojo said in a whiney tone, reaching out for his daughter, only for her to crawl to him and give him a sweet hug.

“It’s adorable that you did this, but I’d rather you’d walk…”

Gojo said sadly as C/N blew bubbles. He sighs of defeat before grabbing the remote and deciding to put it on spongebob, during that time it was C/N’s favorite show.

“Satoru, you know C/N’s not gonna walk when you ask her to, it’s gonna have to come natural.” You sigh, sitting on the couch after getting out the shower.

“I told you to let me get in the shower first! You take all the hot water!”

“Hm…well guess what, I’m a full grown woman! Should’ve been mature and went in yourself!”

Gojo pouts, before continuing to fidget with the spongebob plushy that C/N loves so much.

It makes sense that C/N would love spongebob, who wouldn’t, first of all, and second, her dad is Satoru Gojo, maybe it’s just genetic…

“Ugh…I can’t understand why you like this episode C/N, this one sucked.”

Gojo said, as if C/N could understand.

She acts like she does, because she looks at her dad and tilted her head, Gojo simply just looked at her with a pouty expression.

C/N furrowed her eyebrows, she took the insinuation that her dad was sad! And she couldn’t have that.

And so when Gojo wasn’t looking, she took the chance to walkover to him to comfort, with a little bit of struggling, she finally began to walk to her dad, you noticed this and pointed it out right away.

“Toru, Toru! Look! C/N in walking!” you pointed at C/N, but you always pull pranks on Gojo like this, so he simply tirelessly looked at her, not believing you at first

“Ohh yeah…and I’m the weakest man on—“ Gojo stops mid-sentence when he sees C/N slowly waddling towards him, in an instant, Gojo opens his arms so C/N could fall in them, she then places her chubby hand on Gojo’s cheek, and made a blabble that sounded like ‘there, there.’

You counted down from thee till the waterworks come…

Three

Two

one..

Sniff

hell yeah! right on queue!

i “You’re so adorable, C/N, I love you so much, never grow up and stay this age forever…” Gojo tightly holds C/N before he whips out his phone and takes a picture of his now standing daughter and a tearful Gojo.

Y/N thinks that those tears will never stop.

Geto

——————————————————————

Geto was obviously the calmest out of everyone in this list, but this time, you were the reason the twins walked, they were going through that phase when they only wanted their mother.

——————————————————————————————

Geto was currently giving both the twins a bath, he was struggling, as G/C/N was squirming around and is avoiding getting scrubbed, but of course B/C/N was being compliant.

“G/C/N…please…at least let me clean your butt, you literally just took a shit.” Geto sighed of defeat, you walked to the bathroom with a basket full of laundry.

“Any luck, Sugu?” You said, half-joking, Geto just shook his head and sighed

“G/C/N is refusing to take a wash…the most she’s done was get in the water” Geto almost lets out a whine. Before you let out a chuckle.

“It’s okay, Sugu, G/C/N is just stubborn like that, I’ll put your clothes in the washer, ‘kay?”

Geto gave a sound of approval, before trying again with G/C/N, she dodges the wash cloth once again while B/C/N was playing with a toy boat.

B/CN accidentally threw the toy out of the bath (don’t ask how), causing him to whine, Geto sighs, getting up to go and get the boat.

G/C/N took this opportunity to make a run for it after seeing her mom walk by, she crawled out of the tub, and stood on her feet, her naked body standing proudly, B/C/N said a “woah” noise, following his sister, just a bit more clumsily.

As if it wasn’t their first time walking, they both dashed out of the bathroom, following their mother.

“What the hell—? Y/N! Catch the twins! They’re making a run for it!”

Geto said in a panic, it would be easy to catch up to them, but they were small, so it was hard to grab them.

“Making a run for it—on my goddd!!” You said in a panic, running over at the door of the laundry the laundry room as both naked twins jumped on their mother laughing out loud, Geto sighed a breath of relief when he finally makes it to the twins, he couldn’t chose between being happy that they finally walked, or he should be pissed that not only did they wet the carpets, but they ran around the house naked.

“Well…who knew this’ll be their first walk…”

Geto ran his hand through his soft locks, sighing as he bent down to their level.

“Sugu, it seems they won’t take one unless I’m there, how about we all just take a bath together?”

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄 [𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐘]

PAIRINGS —  Mark Darcy x fem!Reader

SUMMARY —  Mark and Reader meet on a dock in Greece and the rest is history

WARNINGS — difficulty conceiving, pregnancy, allusions to sex

NOTE — Okay the beginning and end of this are definietly Mamma Mia-esque but TRUST ME it fits the vibessss- anyways I hope you guys like it :3 Also a big thanks to @/mystic-writings for beta-ing!

Mark wondered what had brought him here that day. There he was sitting on a dock in Greece, reevaluating all of the decisions he had made in recent days. He found it very hard to stay hopeful when that very much could have been the woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with on that boat, sailing towards an island he didn’t know the name of with a ferry that wouldn’t allow him to chase after her until two days later. 

He was about to get up and turn around, find the nearest airport that would get him out of the sunny Mediterranean country, when he felt someone tap on his shoulder. 

He squinted against the sun, trying to get a better look at who it was, but it wasn’t clear until you stepped in front of him. 

“You miss the ferry?” you asked him and he nodded his head. “Shame,” you sighed and took a seat next to him. You introduced yourself and offered a hand for him to shake. He took it and introduced himself in return. 

“I don’t suppose your travels have also been…” he chose his words carefully, “subpar?” 

“Actually, they have,” you leaned back. “This was supposed to be some sort of girls trip.” 

“And?” 

“Well, you don’t see any girls around me do you,” you motioned to the empty dock. 

“No I don’t suppose I do.” 

You sat in silence for a moment, the sun beating down on both of your backs before you chose to speak again. 

“Have you done much sight-seeing yet?” 

“None. I just got here, and I think I’ll be leaving first thing tomorrow,” he admitted. 

“Leave Greece without seeing even one sight? You’re an interesting man, Mark.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” he sighed and pushed himself up off of the bench. 

“You know,” you started, “If you change your mind and want to see some of the sights before heading back to wherever you’re from, come find me. My hotel’s that one over there,” you pointed to one of the buildings overlooking the water. 

Mark nodded his head and wished you a good day before grabbing his bag and heading towards the main street, he’d call for a taxi and maybe his choice would be more clear to him the next morning. It was hard to think in the midday heat, because right now, for some peculiar reason, your offer seemed awfully enticing.

—

The next morning you awoke to a knock on your door. You checked the time, it was half past seven which was far too early for housekeeping. 

With a confused look on your face, and a just-in-case large vase in hand and ready for whatever was on the other side, you approached the door. In a quick motion you unlocked the door and swung it open, the vase held as threateningly as you could until you realized that you recognized those eyes and that tall frame. 

“Mark?” 

“You said if I wanted to get in some sightseeing before I go I should come to your hotel. You didn’t tell me what room though. I made a few awkward mistakes before landing on your door.” 

“What compelled you to do this at half past seven on a weekend?” you chuckled. 

“I could ask the same about your vase. Not normally something you greet someone with at the door,” he commented. 

“Just playing it safe,” you said, now lowering the vase and returning it to its place on the table. “Why don’t you give me two minutes to get dressed then I’ll properly invite you inside.” 

Mark nodded his head and you quickly shut the door, rummaging through your suitcases until you found what you wanted to wear, changing into it and reopening the door and allowing Mark to come inside. 

“So, what changed your mind?” you asked. “You seemed awfully set on leaving.” 

“I thought maybe it was time I took a break. I can’t remember the last time I took a vacation,” he admitted. “And it crossed my mind that perhaps you were right.” 

“About what?” 

“It would be a shame to leave Greece without seeing at least one sight.” 

You grabbed your bag and shoved a few things in it, looking back up at Mark. 

“Then let’s find a sight, shall we?” you offered your arm to him and he took it as you exited the room together. 

After you sorted out where you wanted to go you found yourselves on a hot overcrowded bus, trying to understand what the stops were and continuously looking at the map and your surroundings to determine where to get off. 

“So Mark, where do you hail from? I’m guessing England, but whereabouts?” you asked, over the loud engine. 

“London, currently,” he said. “And yourself?” 

“Currently? Also London,” you said. 

“But-,” 

“I don’t sound British?” you looked over at him and he chuckled. 

“Exactly,” he nodded. 

“I’m there for work. I’m an art curator,” you explained. “Brits bring pretty good business.” 

“That I can believe, and I think this is our stop,” he pointed. 

“Oh goodness, HEY! HEY! Stop the bus!” you called and stood up, waving down the driver with your hat. He slammed on the brakes and you jerked forward, almost falling into the seats in front of you if it weren’t for Mark quickly grabbing you by the waist and pulling you back down into your seat. “Man, let’s get the hell out of here.” 

Mark couldn’t help but give you a little smile as he helped you up from your seat and you exited the crowded bus as quickly as you could. 

“Good grief,” you sighed. “I would have gone flying if it weren’t for you. Thanks, Mark.” 

“Don’t mention it, all part of the Greek charm I suppose,” he shrugged as you began to walk down the quiet countryside street, looking for the entrance to the beach. 

“What about yourself, what do you do for work?” you asked. 

“I’m a lawyer,” he said. “Human rights type stuff mostly.” 

“Oh so a true London hotshot then,” you chuckled. “Come on, I think it’s right down here,” you motioned to a small trail opening. 

“Well, I don’t know if I’d say hotshot,” he said. 

“Oh don’t worry, I’m just teasing,” you said as you slipped on some loose gravel only to have Mark catch you again. 

“You’re quite clumsy.” 

“It’s a part of my charm,” you grinned. 

From there you both silently decided maybe it would be best if you held on to Mark so as to not fall again, and you walked a short distance in comfortable silence until you came to the opening of the beach. 

“Wow. Mark, this is really a sight,” you grabbed his arm and dragged him further so he could see the full view. 

The cove was secluded and the pristine water gently lapped against the shore along the white sand. 

“What do you think?” you asked. 

“I’m glad I stayed,” he said with a smile. 

Still hand in hand, you found a comfortable spot in the sand and laid out a blanket you had packed to sit on for the time being. 

“Do you have anyone waiting back home for you, Mark?” 

“Not aside from my parents,” he shook his head. “And yourself?” 

“Unattached currently,” you said while grabbing a water bottle from your bag. “My girlfriends would say this seems to have the making of a summer romance.” 

Mark found himself curious to see if you thought so too. Certainly he thought that seeing Bridget go off into the sunset with someone else would be the end of his romantic life, but perhaps he was mistaken. 

“Well, we’ll have to see if they’re right,” Mark said simply and you chuckled. 

Spending time with Mark was easy. It was as if your friends hadn’t all bailed on you and this was your plan all along. The days quickly melted into one, then two, then three and it was an easy routine for Mark to join you at your hotel in the morning. 

You were both too caught up in a whirlwind of tourism filled with adventures and flirting that you barely even noticed your departure date approaching. 

“Has it already been ten days?” you sighed, leaning into Mark’s side as you sat along the beach just outside of your hotel. 

“Went by a lot faster than I expected,” he admitted. “Feels like just yesterday I was so forwardly introduced to you.” 

“Shut up, Mark. You’ve had a good time,” you laughed. “Now let’s do one more fun thing before we go back to the doom and gloom of London.” 

“What do you have in mind?” he asked as you stood up and walked with him towards the water. 

“Hmm, have you ever tried the opposite of skinny dipping?” 

“Which is?” he frowned. 

“This!” you exclaimed while pushing him into the water, fully clothed, but not before he grabbed onto your waist, pulling you down with him. 

You squealed in surprise, falling on top of him in the shallow water. 

“Did you really think you could get away with that?” Mark asked and you shook your head with a laugh. 

“It was either this or you’d get up and chase me and throw me into the water.” 

“We could do that too if you wanted,” he moved one of  the wet strings of your top off of your cheek which it was currently stuck to. 

“No, I think I kind of like it here,” you said with a whisper. 

“Good, because then I can do this,” his thumb moved from your cheek to your chin, pinching it between that and his index finger and bringing your face closer to his before finally pressing his lips to yours. 

You brought yourself as close as you could to him, your hands holding on to both sides of his face. You could feel the water’s crests and falls and tasted its salt on Mark’s lips. 

When he gently moved away, giving you both a moment to breathe, he said, “I had to make sure I gave you a proper kiss goodbye.” 

“Could I perhaps entice you to make that a regular occasion?” you asked. 

Mark kissed you again, this time shorter before giving you a thinking face and then nodding his head. 

You chuckled and grabbed his hand, standing up yourself first before pulling him up with you. He trailed behind you as you walked towards your things, pressing a kiss to your temple from behind, then your neck until neither of you could help it and turned around to kiss properly again. 

“Why don’t you stay in my room tonight,” you murmured. “And maybe if we’re lucky the vacation will continue when we’re back in London. Any objections?” 

“No, sustained,” he kissed you again and you giggled at his joke. 

“Save something for the room, Mark,” you teased as you pulled away, “If we stay out here much longer we’ll be putting on a show for the tourists.” 

“And?” he raised a mischievous brow. 

“Mark!” you exclaimed with a surprised laugh, quickly grabbing your bag while he grabbed the blanket, shaking out the sand before grabbing your hand and heading back to the hotel, prepared for whatever this summer romance would bring. 

—

A few months later…

“Mark! I’m here, are you home yet?” you called into the townhome as you stepped across the threshold, throwing your keys on the table and slipping off your coat. 

There wasn’t an answer so you assumed he hadn’t arrived yet, but when you climbed up the stairs you saw him lying down on the couch with a pillow over his face. 

You chuckled a little and quietly bent down and removed the pillow only to be met by a soft, 

“Hey.” 

“Last I remember, you asked me to come over after work,” you leaned down and pressed a kiss to his nose. “How was your day?” 

“Exhausting, can’t you tell?” 

“Yes, quite clearly,” you nodded as you sat on the edge of the couch. “So, did you miss me?” 

“Dreadfully,” he nodded and beckoned you to come lay down with him. “How was work?”

“It was alright,” you sighed. “I think I’m getting tired of working for snooty rich folk. Maybe I need a change of scenery.”

Mark kissed your temple and you hummed, 

“Or maybe I should stay like this all day.”

“I wouldn’t complain,” he teased. 

“But alas, there’s work to be done. Come on, we have to make dinner,” you pushed yourself up and took Mark’s hand, helping him up and dragging him to the kitchen.

You had agreed earlier on what to make for dinner so you easily fell into a rhythm of preparing things together. 

Even though the clouds were grey and it was perpetually raining in London, when you were with Mark, everywhere felt like Greece. 

“Mark, how am I supposed to get any bloody work done when you keep distracting me?” you asked just as he finished pressing yet another kiss to your neck. 

“We could forget about work,” he suggested. 

“As much as that sounds enticing, I’m starving,” you sighed. “And I think we both know what happens when I haven’t had enough to eat.” 

“Yes, I believe we’d like to avoid that,” he nodded his head and went back to chopping up some vegetables. 

“Mark, can you pass me the pepper and paprika please?” you asked, pointed over to his spice cabinet as you walked away from the stove for a minute to go grab something to drink. 

As you bent down to check what was in the fridge, something caught your eye on the counter and you quietly closed the fridge to inspect it. 

“Mark, what’s this?’ you asked, picking up the small box and opening it as he protested only to stare blankly at what was in front of you. 

“Ideally,” he started, “this would not have happened.” 

“I-I just…” your voice trailed off. 

Mark sighed, “You see I was worried this would happen, you’d see this and get scared and run away, and I’ve ruined it, haven’t I.” 

“You mean this is meant for me?” you pointed to the ring, then to yourself. 

He nodded his head.

“When did you get it?” you asked. 

“The day we left Greece,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “See I told you, you would think I was insane-.” 

“I never thought that,” you were grinning, looking up at him. 

“You-You don’t?” he confirmed. 

“Since I’ve ruined the surprise, why don’t you ask me the question and see what my answer is.” you suggested. “Go on.” 

“I-Darling, are you sure you want to do it like this? I could plan something more romantic than being in my kitchen in the middle of making dinner.” 

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s perfect.” 

Mark took a deep breath and walked up to you, taking your hands in his, saying your name in the way he did that made you feel like it was his magic spell that would fix all his problems. 

“Will you-,” 

“Yes,” you interrupted him, unable to even contain your own excitement. 

“You didn’t even let me get the question out,” he chuckled. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you shook your head. “Say it again.” 

“Will you marry me?” 

“Mark Darcy, I would love to marry you,” you grinned and he quickly pulled you in for a searing kiss. 

When you pulled apart, Mark took the ring from the box and slipped it onto your finger. 

“Your parents are going to think we’re insane,” you laughed. 

“And yours won’t?” he poked. 

“Oh I’m sure they will, but-wait, what’s that smell?” you frowned. 

Mark turned around and you looked past him seeing the smoke coming from the pan. 

“Shit!” you exclaimed and quickly went to turn the stove off and move the pan off the hot element. 

You both examined the burnt food and then looked at each other. 

“Take out?” you suggested and he nodded. 

“Thai?” 

“Nah, what about Mexican?” you asked and he shook his head. 

“Indian?” Mark landed on and you nodded. 

“That’s the one.” 

Mark easily reached out his hand and took it in yours before grabbing your coats and heading out the door. 

As you walked down the lit streets, Mark lifted your hands so you could both see the ring glimmering under the streetlamps. 

“I think it looks complete with a ring,” you said. “Don’t you?” 

“I surely do,” he nodded and pressed a kiss to your hand. “I love you, my darling.” 

You smiled fondly at him, “I love you too.” 

—

Several years later…

Mark never got tired of going to sleep and waking up next to you every single day. If anything, his heart longed for you to be next to him when he was away on trips for work. 

Tonight was no different, except it was a little sweeter on this occasion, it always was when he was coming back from being away. 

He quietly got changed and slipped into bed next to you and you jolted awake, turning around excitedly. 

“Jesus, Mark! When did you get here?” you asked. 

“Moments ago,” he chuckled. 

“I tried to stay awake,” you yawned. “I really did.” 

“Well, you’re up now,” he kissed you. “And I suppose that means we can fall back asleep together.” 

“Yes, but before we do that, I have something I wanted to ask you,” you started. “I’ve been thinking about this when you were away and I was wondering what you think of maybe having a little one join us?” 

“You mean like Lucy?” he looked over at the corgi sleeping at the foot of the bed. “I suppose we could get another puppy-,” 

“Mark, not a puppy,” you laughed. “A baby.” 

“A baby,” he hummed thoughtfully. It was something he always assumed he would have, it seemed like the next logical progression of things, and when Mark thought of having a miniature version of you running through the hallways of your home, he was sold. “I think, if you’re ready of course, maybe we should start trying.” 

“Really?” you grinned. 

“It’s an easy decision,” he kissed your nose. “I would take any chance to bring more of your light to the world.” 

You gently reached out for Mark’s cheek and looked at him lovingly. 

“Funny, I was thinking the same about you.” 

You both shared a sweet kiss, and Mark let his lips stray away from your lips, kissing along your jaw then your neck. 

“You know, we could start trying now,” he murmured. “No harm in getting a head start.” 

“Well, I am awake,” you raised your brows and squealed playfully while he pulled you on top of him. 

After a little bit more discussion in the following days, you and Mark had gotten yourselves as prepared as you could for life as a family of three. Mark was determined to make sure your finances were in line and what both of your work lives would look like once a baby came into the picture. With that sorted you began trying, and weeks turned into months, which turned into a year, and then another, still with nothing. 

Mark could see how difficult it was getting, each time you went in with a little light of hope in your eyes, but it continuously became dimmer and dimmer with each negative result. 

At this point, you both wanted it so badly, but nothing you were doing seemed to do the trick so to speak. 

Mark waited patiently outside the washroom while you went in there with another test, by now you had both lost count. When you came out he could see that the test still wasn’t done, so you both waited in silence by the kitchen counters for the three agonizing minutes to pass. 

When your watch beeped, you hesitated before lifting the test up to your face to see what the results were. Mark was standing across from you and he watched as all hope and energy drained from face and how quickly your shoulders began to shake while you covered your face with your hand and began to sob. 

Mark quickly came to your side and wrapped you up in his arms, taking the test away from you and placing it on the counter, allowing you to feel the weight on your chest, but also lean on him. 

“I-I’m so sorry, Mark,” you shook your head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he shook his head. “It’s just a hurdle, we’ll jump over it like we always do.” 

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” you cried softly into his shoulder. “It’s been two years since we started trying, Mark.” 

“Then let’s press pause,” he whispered and kissed your temple, he could feel a few tears welling in his own eyes, not only was his heart crushed by the state you were in, but regardless of how much he let on, he wanted this too. 

After a few more moments in silence together you told Mark you were going to call in sick at the museum and just take the day. 

“Do you want me to stay with you?” he asked. 

“No, you have important things to do at work, you should go,” you said as you walked back into your room. 

Mark watched from the doorway as you walked to your side of the bed and slipped back under the covers. 

“Are you sure?” he checked again. 

“I’m sure,” you nodded. 

He came in and kissed your temple once more, whispering a soft I love you which you returned. 

Mark gathered his things and headed out the door, calling a taxi to come and pick him up. As he sat in the car and an overwhelming feeling came over him, he was about halfway to work when he couldn’t sit with it any longer. 

“Can we please turn the car around,” he asked. “Just take me back to where you picked me up,” he told the driver while dialing a number on his phone. 

“Hello?” a man’s voice on the other line responded. 

“Paul, it’s Mark, I’m not going to be able to come to work today, something came up at home and I have to be with my wife.” 

“I’m sure the world won’t burn down without you for one day,” Paul assured him. “Go be with your wife. You both barely took any time off for your honeymoon anyways.” 

“Thank you, Paul. Call me if you need anything that I can do from home.” 

“I won’t. Like I said, go be with your wife.” 

Mark chuckled and they hung up the phone. He’d always had a hard time letting go of work, but sometimes it was a little easier when it came to you, and you both agreed there were a few things in your relationship that not even an urgent case could pull Mark away from. In his opinion, this was one of them. 

When he entered the house again, he tossed his keys on the front table and slipped off his shoes while loosening his tie. 

Coming back into the room again, he could see you were still curled up in the bed and Mark came carefully placing himself behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“You came back?” you asked. 

“This is more important than work,” he said. “Someone else can save the world today.” 

You turned around and pressed your face into his chest, holding him so tightly. 

“Thank you for coming,” you mumbled. “It hurts a little less when you’re around.” 

“I feel the same,” he kissed your hairline. “And regardless of how things turn out, whether you get pregnant, or we adopt, or decide not to have a baby after all, we’ll still have each other.” 

You looked up at him with a small smile, 

“No regrets?” you asked, but he could tell you were teasing. 

“Never,” he leaned down and kissed you and you knew he meant it. 

—

A few more years later… 

Mark stood outside the front door to his home, looking down at what was in his hands in contemplation. What would be the best way to break the news to you? He could just come in and show you, but perhaps it would be best to tell you slowly, he could manage that, he just had to use his skills as a lawyer and it would be easy as pie, you wouldn’t even know what had hit you. 

With one last deep breath, Mark swung the door open and stepped inside. 

“Darling, I’m home!” he called. 

“Oh good!” you called, “I have something I want to tell you.” 

Mark frowned curiously, and thought to himself what could it be that you had to tell him? 

He hid his one hand behind his back and climbed up the stairs, meeting you in the living room. 

“What was it you wanted to tell me?” you asked when you stepped into the room from the hallway. 

“What did you want to tell me?” he asked in return. 

“Maybe we should go on three?” you suggested and Mark nodded. 

“1…” 

“2…”

“3.” 

“I bought another dog.” “I’m pregnant.” 

Mark’s jaw dropped as he now held the baby dachshund puppy in front of him. 

“You’re-You’re what?!” he repeated. 

“You bought another dog?!” you looked with surprise at the puppy in front of you. 

“I just thought Lucy was getting lonely, and we could use the extra energy in the house, but wait,” he paused, placing the small puppy on a soft spot of the carpet. “You said you’re…” 

“Pregnant,” you smiled. 

“But I thought-,” 

“We couldn’t have kids?” you filled in for him and he nodded. “Turns out impossible sometimes means: very, very, very, very unlikely.” 

“We’re going to have a baby,” Mark said softly to himself. “My God, we’re going to have a baby!” 

He scooped you up in his arms and pressed a smacking kiss to your lips and you joked, 

“Took us long enough.” 

To which Mark laughed and said, 

“I know right.” 

“Now, I think someone on the carpet wants our attention,” you moved over to pick up the small puppy who was wagging its tail excitedly. “What’s your name, little one?” 

“Maisie. She’s a rescue,” Mark said, wrapping his arms around you again from behind. 

“A baby, and a puppy,” you shook your head. “It’s perfect, don’t you think?” 

Lucy barked and you both laughed. 

“Someone certainly thinks so,” Mark commented before bending down to pick Lucy up so she could meet her new sister. 

“It will be a full house, that’s for sure,” you kissed Mark’s cheek, “but something tells me that’s what will make it fun.” 

—

Nine months passed like a whirlwind and before you knew it, your beautiful baby Ana was here with minimal complications, leaving you with a very healthy baby. 

The first time Mark held her in his arms you knew it was love at first sight, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen him smile that big.

“How am I supposed to go back to work when she’s growing every second,” Mark sighed and whispered as you held the napping baby in your arms, sitting up in your bed. 

“You could try it out and see what it’s like,” you suggested. “Or maybe you could do consulting from home for a bit, until she’s a little older. Do you think they would let you do that?” 

“They might,” he nodded. “They’ll probably call the police to report a missing person first.” 

“Come on Mark, you’re not that bad,” you chuckled. “Okay, maybe you are, but you’ve always made time for what’s important. Trust me, especially if you talk to Paul, he’d be surprised if you didn’t quit.” 

“I’ll call tomorrow and speak with the firm to see what they’ll allow,” he said.

“Are you sure you won’t miss working cases too much, and you won’t be too cooped up in the house with us?” 

“I’m sure, and like you said, if it works out I can always reevaluate when she’s older.” 

He looked back down at his daughter and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“Don’t you think she’s just the most beautiful baby you’ve ever laid eyes on,” you sighed, leaning into your husband’s shoulder. 

“The most beautiful indeed,” he turned his head and kissed your temple. “Just like her mother.” 

“Mark, I’m literally a week postpartum after a geriatric pregnancy, no one looks good after that,” you laughed. 

“You have the glow of motherhood,” he insisted. “And your smile still hasn’t changed,” the corner of your mouth with his thumb. 

“Sweat and delirium, my love,” you responded. “But either way,” you looked down at Ana once more. “I still can’t believe she’s really here.”

“Neither can I,” Mark spoke softly, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. “Our daughter.” 

“Have you thought about what you want her to call you?” you asked. 

“I was thinking Papa, but I’m not sure it suits me, but she’s far too young to be training her.”

“Speak for yourself, I’ve already started to teach her how to say mum,” you teased which made Mark chuckle. 

Ana started to move and shift in your arms and you could sense she was waking up to be fed. 

“Unfortunately, I can’t be much help for this,” Mark said. “But I can go into the kitchen and warm up one of those lasagnes your mother made when she visited so that we can have something to eat.” 

“Sounds splendid,” you kissed your husband’s cheek and exchanged quick "I love yous" before moving on with your respective tasks. 

No matter how tired you got over the next couple of months, you both would never forget that feeling, the one of gratitude that by some chance of life, you were able to create the little human being in your arms. 

—

“Sweetheart, are you sure you’re okay to do today alone?” you asked. 

“I’m sure,” Mark insisted, “look at us,” he pointed to the baby carrier fitted with a recently one year old Ana. “I’ve got phone consultations lined up for the day and some simple casework. You should go before you’re late.”

“Goodness, you’re right,” you looked down at your watch. “They really don’t tell you how hard it is to leave.”

Mark quickly kissed you goodbye and you kissed Ana, lingering a little longer, not knowing how you’d last a full day without your little girl. 

“Alright, goodbye my loves, I’ll miss you,” you blew them both kisses and Ana giggled which made you smile as you headed down the stairs and quickly ran out the door to get into your taxi. 

Back inside Mark slowly began to get into the groove of things. 

“Today is Papa and Ana banana’s day,” he smiled and kissed the top of her head, listening to her babble. She’d do that whenever he called her Ana banana and sometimes he’d do it just to hear her little attempt at speech and communication. “Alright, shall we get to work?” 

Ana bounced in her carrier, smiling brightly. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Mark grinned. 

Having already felt with breakfast, Mark put on an earpiece and began making his necessary phone calls, walking around his home office consulting on matters pertaining to different cases he was consulting on. 

After about an hour or so Ana began to get a little fussy and Mark assumed she wanted to move around a bit, so he took her out of her carrier and placed her inside an enclosed play area in his office while he did some paperwork. 

He loved any time he would get to spend with Ana, even if it meant working from home. 

The rest of the day went by in a flash and by the time you got home both Mark and Ana were taking a nap on the couch. Ana was lying on top of Mark’s chest drooling on his shirt and Mark still had his bluetooth in his ear. 

It was a sight to see and you quickly snapped a picture before either of them awoke. 

Carefully you took Ana off of Mark and went to place her in her cot and woke up Mark, knowing if he stayed asleep any longer he wouldn’t be able to sleep that night.

“Where’s Ana?” he asked immediately and you chuckled. 

“I put her in the cot. Your father-daughter day go as planned?” 

“Exactly,” he nodded and you kissed his cheek. 

“Come on, I brought home dinner. You can tell me all about it.”

You took Mark by the hand and dragged him to the kitchen, making sure to turn the baby monitor on in case Ana woke up. 

You grabbed your takeout and sat on the counter, eating your food, watching Mark and listening to him recount all of the cute things Ana did throughout the day. 

Even though more of your meals had become store bought and you were running around in every direction, it was always all worth it when at the end of the day you could sit together and visit, especially with Ana at your side. 

—

“I think we should go, don’t you?” you placed the invitation back on the table. “It’s a good excuse to go on vacation again and it’s around the area where we met. It could be romantic.”

Mark looked skeptical. 

“I’m not sure it’s the best idea, perhaps we could go another time.”

“Isn’t this your friend getting married?” you asked. “Come on Mark, please? Right Ana darling? Don’t you wanna go too?”

“Yes Papa,” she stood up in her chair and clasped her small hands together. “Please!” 

Mark looked over at his wife and daughter and shook his head. 

“Alright, I’ll look into the tickets,” he said and you grinned and Ana clapped. 

“Your first real vacation Miss Ana, what do you think?” you kissed her cheek. 

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I’ve never been on vacation.”

Mark chuckled and picked up his now six-year-old daughter, 

“Well, your mum and I met on vacation,” Mark told her. “She was very clumsy.”

“And your papa was very-”

“Handsome,” Mark tickled Ana and she squealed. “Now before your mum can correct me, why don’t we go look for flights, Ana banana.”

“Alright, Papa,” Ana agreed. 

“Ah ah ah,” you scooped Ana out of Mark’s hands. “After she finishes her dinner.” 

Ana quickly jumped out of your arms and went to eat her food as fast as she could so she could join her dad. 

“Slow down, sweetheart you’re going to choke,” you chuckled as she pushed her plate away from herself, saying,

“Done!” with her mouth half full of food. 

In the end you got what you wanted because three short months later you had landed in Greece and were on your way to the location of the wedding being held for Mark’s friend. 

“Mark, isn’t this the dock where we met?” you asked, looking around at the benches as scenery that looked very familiar. “Yes, I think it is, look, there’s that hotel I stayed at.”

“Mum, this is where you and Papa met?” Ana asked and you nodded. 

“What a lovely coincidence that is,” you smiled and kissed your daughter's cheek. 

Mark just gave you a small smile as you awaited the ferry and after you boarded the crowded boat, you squished into a few seats with Ana sitting half on your leg and half on Mark’s. 

“I guess you finally have the chance to take this ferry,” you laughed a little to yourself, but you could help but notice that Mark was awfully quiet. You figured you’d ask him about it later, maybe once you’d settled in your hotel room, but first on your list was to mingle with the rest of the wedding guests and the bride and groom in some of the hotel common areas. 

All three of you couldn’t have been more happy to get off that boat and Ana was excited to have a little run around before coming back and holding one of your hands and one of Mark’s. 

“Did you and Papa come here, Mum?” Ana asked while swinging both her arms. 

“No, we didn’t,” you shook your head. “I guess we were just waiting to come with you.” 

“Well you waited a long time.” 

That made you both chuckle as you finally finished your walk and arrived at the hotel. 

“Should we check in or-?” 

“Mark!” you all turned when you heard his name only to see a bright smiling blonde woman coming your way. “Mark, it’s so good to see you, I’m so glad you could make it.”

She gave him a big hug before taking a step back and introducing herself to both you and Ana.

“I’m Bridget,” she said. “It’s so nice to meet you all, you must be Mark’s family.”

“Yes,” you grinned. “And you’re the bride!” 

“Guilty,” she laughed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come or not, but I figured I’d throw the invitation out there.” 

“Oh, why wouldn’t he come?” you asked curiously, not noticing Mark’s tense reaction. 

“It’s just, after Mark and I broke up I came to Greece, oh what was it, around ten fifteen years ago, and I just hoped it wasn’t a sore subject still, but I can see it isn’t,” she pointed at you and Ana. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

You wanted to respond, but your mouth seemed to stop working. You heard Mark do it for you and quickly excused you all so you could check into the hotel. 

You could hear your name being said a few times when finally a gentle hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your trance. 

“Ana, can you do Papa a favour and go over there and spend time with aunt Jude?” he asked. 

“Okay,” she nodded and chased after her father’s friend’s wife leaving just you and Mark. 

You turned to him with a hurt look on your face, 

“You came to Greece to chase after her didn’t you,” you said quietly. “That’s why I found you on the dock; that’s why you were waiting for the ferry.”

Mark chewed on his lip and nodded. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me she was your ex before letting me convince myself it was a good idea to come here?” 

“Darling, you were so excited and I didn’t think it mattered-,”

“Mark, please,” you shook your head. “I just-,” you paused and took a breath. “I need some time.” 

You took some of your things and went to the front desk to check into the hotel while Mark went to join Jude who had Ana in her arms. He made friendly conversation until you were done and you collected Ana and went upstairs to your room in silence. 

“Ana, how are you feeling, my love?” you asked. 

“I’m a little sleepy,” she admitted. “Is it bedtime soon?” 

“Mhmm,” you nodded. “We’ll all get ready and tuck in early, how does that sound?” 

She yawned, “Good.” 

Once you got in the room, you started to help Ana get changed while Mark got out your toiletries and easily took over when it came to teeth brushing. You took the time to get changed and settled, giving Ana a book to flip through while you and Mark both silently got ready for bed and slipped in the bed on either side of Ana. 

You slept close to the edge, your back turned away from the centre so Ana naturally decided to curl closer to father. 

“Is Mum okay?” Ana asked in a quiet mumble. 

“I hope so,” Mark kissed her head. “Why don’t we go to sleep, maybe we’ll all feel a little better in the morning.” 

You hoped deep down Mark was right. 

—

“Why isn’t Mum coming with us to the beach?” Ana asked while Mark helped her put on some sunscreen. 

“She just needs some time to herself,” Mark said simply. “You know how Mum and Papa sometimes like to have alone time.” 

“Yeah, but we’re on vacation,” she tilted her head. “Do you think she’ll come later?” 

“Maybe Ana banana, I’m not sure. I think Papa might have hurt her feelings by accident,” he admitted. 

“Did you say you were sorry?” she asked. 

“I did, but sometimes we need to say sorry and give some alone time, too.” 

Ana nodded her head thoughtfully, “Okay, then let’s go to the beach so she can have her alone time.”

Mark nodded his head and took his daughter’s hand in one of his and grabbed a bag in the other and they headed out to the beach together. 

Ana was adamant on starting off with a sandcastle, but both her and Mark found out quickly it was a little harder than it looked in all the movies, so they quickly abandoned that task to go for a swim. Ana had always enjoyed being in the water and Mark loved seeing how much she was enjoying herself. He just wished you were there to see it with him. 

He tried to keep his focus on Ana for the time being, knowing he would hopefully have a moment later to talk to you, but the day passed so quickly and before he knew it you were back in bed resting to prepare for the rehearsal dinner the next day. 

The next morning, Mark made a point to speak with you before you went down for breakfast, knowing if he left it he may not catch you until dinner. 

“I spoke with Jude,” he started, “she can look after Ana this afternoon so we can talk.” 

“Alright,” you nodded. “We can meet on the terrace.” 

Mark agreed and before you left, quickly reached for your hand to give it a squeeze. 

You chewed on your lip before squeezing it back, he was still your husband and you still loved him regardless of your hurt. 

The afternoon couldn’t come fast enough for Mark, he waited anxiously by the terrace after dropping Ana off with Jude, at least she’d have fun playing with her friends. 

“Mark,” you waved him down by the stairs. “Come on, let's walk,” you suggested. 

He jogged to catch up with you and you walked side by side down the stairs and further along into the streets, busy with traffic and locals, just going about their daily business. 

“I figured I should probably tell you the whole story of how I ended up in Greece,” Mark said, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

You nodded your head and motioned for him to continue. 

“After Bridget and I broke up, for the second time mind you, I thought I had to chase after because in my mind I thought she was the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with,” he said truthfully. “So I wound up on that bench on the dock, mourning my losses as she came to the island and I was stuck on the mainland.”

“You wanted to marry her?” you asked. 

“I thought I did,” he clarified, “but then I met you.” 

“Mark-,” 

“You know me, darling. I’m terrible with emotional declarations, which is probably why I never managed to tell you how quickly I fell in love with you,” he admitted. “I was set to pack my bags and go home, but you convinced me, somehow just in your demeanour to stay, and so I did and spent ten of the most wonderful days of my life by your side. It made me realize the reason I came to Greece wasn’t for Bridget, I came because I had to meet you.” 

You looked up at Mark and saw him staring down at his shoes. 

“It never occurred to me to mention her because of how clear my future looked with you in it. How clear it still looks.” 

“And how does it look?” you asked. 

“Well,” he sighed. “Ana grows up and becomes a lawyer of course.” 

You chuckled at that. 

“And as she grows we retire eventually, move into that rundown cottage in the countryside we always talk about buying. They come up with some way to keep dogs alive forever and we grow old, fixing our cottage with Lucy and Maisie and Ana visits us on weekends, eventually with a husband and our grandchildren. It’s quiet and simple, but it’s us.” 

You smiled a little to yourself and leaned your head against his arm which he easily wrapped around you. 

“How uncomfortable was that for you?” you asked, knowing your husband wasn’t often fond of talking about his feelings.

“Unbearable,” he said, “but worth it.” 

“Good,” you turned his head to face you and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I’d love to grow old with you, Mark Darcy. Although I’m already convinced we have a little bit, the hotel bed is really not doing it for my back.” 

“That’s funny, I was going to say the pillows for my neck,” Mark teased and you nudged him a little. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” 

“I’m sorry I doubted you had a very romantic reason for not telling me,” you joked while circling back towards the hotel. Ana caught both of your eyes and she waved at you, rushing down to meet you at the bottom of the stairs, much to Jude’s worry. 

“Mum, is your alone time done?” Ana asked. 

“Yes it is, my dear,” you laughed and bent down to kiss her forehead. 

“Good, cause you need to come see this trick I learned!” she exclaimed, grabbing both yours and Mark’s hands and pulling you up the stairs. 

@/iceman-kazansky

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for making my sister change before we went to our cousin’s wedding?

Right, so I (25f) am currently guardian for my sister (16f) because her school is nearer where I live than our parents. She lives with me, sees our parents at weekends/holidays and stuff. My parents pay me rent for her staying here, covering living expenses and stuff. So, my sister and I have a bit more of a parental figure/child relationship than a normal sibling one. We’re chill most of the time, but she’s really annoyed with me over this, and I’m questioning whether I did the right thing.

So, our cousin (31m) was getting married last month, and he and his new husband wanted to have quite a relaxed wedding. What they did specify though was that people should be in “whatever formal attire was most comfortable for you” on the invitations.

I asked my sister if she wanted to come do wedding attire shopping (be that a dress or a suit or whatever) with me, but she said that she already had what she wanted to wear and that she was good. So, I assumed that she had picked something that fit with the theme, because well it’s a broad theme hard to mess up, and didn’t pry further.

When we were getting ready to go though, she came out of her room in what can only be described as Japanese schoolgirl style lingerie. It was a little “dress”, more like a camisole really. It was dangerously short, quite sheer and tbh the whole dressing up as a sexified version of a schoolgirl outfit thing is deeply repulsive to me, so I was not impressed.

I told her that it was a formal event, not a clubbing night, and that she needed to wear something else. She started on about how our cousin said we could dress in whatever we were most comfortable in, to which I replied that I didn’t believe she was comfortable in that outfit to begin with and that he said whatever FORMAL attire we were comfortable in. He meant not to enforce the gender binary, not have people in “pedo-bait lingerie.”

I admit that “pedo-bait lingerie” was a bit too harsh on my end, but I mean really what other reason do they make lingerie like that? Its no different to the “sexy schoolgirl” outfits they make of Western school uniforms, I’m not going to give it a pass because they’re sexualising pre-teens from a different culture. But we didn’t really have time for a philosophical discussion about the ethics of sexy schoolgirl costumes and calling it “pedo-bait lingerie” was poor wording on my part. I didn’t mean that she was attempting to bait in pedos, but that is what she took from that.

Anyway, we got into a fight about whether clothes are inherently sexual or not which was very stupid and went on for far too long, before I said “it doesn’t matter if its inherently sexual or not, the invitation says formal and showing up in that is only going to cause a scene and take the attention away from [cousin and fiancée] on their wedding day, and you don’t want the memory of their wedding to be tainted by people talking about how you kept accidently flashing people, do you?”

At that point she stomped off, and came back wearing a dress she’d worn to our brother’s graduation and then we went to the wedding. She avoided me the whole wedding, and our mother ended up calling me the day after to ask for my side of the story, because my sister had told her that I had slut shamed her and forced her to change. After I explained, our parents are on my side, but idk they do lean more conservative so getting outside opinions would be appreciated.

AITA?    

What are these acronyms?

[mewtwoandme]

I haven't really worked on much the last couple of days. I may be suffering from burnout due to working on backgrounds one after another, and the effort has made me tired....well, if I'm being honest, I've just been tired in general XD. As far as finding motivation, I haven't been forcing it and have just been chillin' until it decides to come back.

I was hoping the burnout would go away before the weekend cause I'd personally like to get back to drawing and finishing up the bgs, but life might have other plans. Some last-minute bills have come up that I accidentally forgot about, normally I'm better at remembering and write the dates down, but ehh, it happens. I might have to go in to work the weekend anyway. So I don't see myself being very protective this weekend. A mild hiccup in my plans lol so bear with me guys. Hopefully I'll get my motivation back soon, amongst everything else.

[jangofettjamz]

Doctor Wednesday Pt2

Gentle!Wednesday x Selective!Mute!Male!Reader

Reader is on the Autism spectrum.

Summary: You feel overwhelmed and Wednesday comforts you because you're her favourite person.

Words: 1786

Wednesday POV

"Is he okay?" Enid asked me, worried for Y/Ns condition.

"He'll be fine soon enough, his fever is getting better, though not yet in the normal range. He's still quite congested. I'm constantly checking him over. I haven't left his side." I say to the werewolf. "I won't leave him alone until I'm confident that he's well enough to resume classes."

She smiled at me, deviously. "What?" I ask her, wanting to know what she found so obviously amusing.

"You're so in love, Wednesday it's insane." She laughed as she spoke. I hate to admit it, but Enid is most certainly correct. I am in love with my beautiful Y/N, and I'm not ashamed to admit that, not at all. Though I am ashamed to admit that Enid is proven right.

I let out a sharp exhalation, expressing my annoyance with the werewolf. "You're enjoying the fact that you're right about me, aren't you?" A rhetorical question, but she answers anyway.

"Umm absolutely! You're so in love with him. And now you're basically his personal doctor. How romantic!" She exclaims excitedly, luckily no one heard as we were in our dorm.

"I didn't want to take him to the infirmary. The nurses completely disregard his needs everytime he goes there. I won't put him through any unnecessary discomfort if I can prevent it. Besides, I'm far more qualified to take care of him than those pitiful excuses for nursing staff" I scoff, their incompetence definitely shows.

My eyes dart over to Y/N sleeping figure, I only hope he's not in anymore pain when he regains consciousness.

"Anyways, would you like to go out with me and Yoko to Jericho this afternoon?" She asked, but I gave her a look of disapproval.

"Go out with you and the vampire while Y/N remains alone in bed? No thank you, I have a patient to look after. Like I said, I'm not leaving him." I say, shutting down Enid's suggestion immediately.

Y/N began to stir in his sleep, whimpers of discomfort causing worry to flow through me. "Enid leave now. Y/N isn't comfortable with guests at the moment." She nods and immediately heads out, she may be foolish but she knows Y/N isn't in the mood right now.

I walked over to Y/N, who's still laying on my bed. I sat down on his bedside to gently comfort him. "Shhhh it's okay sweet boy, it's okay. I'm here." I cooed, pressing my lips to his forehead.

His eyes slowly opened, my hands stroking the top of his head as he awoke from his slumber. I smile down at him, letting him know that's he safe. "Good morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling?"

He couldn't speak too well so he began signing instead "Can I have some water please? My throat's really dry" He asked.

"Of course you can, darling" I grabbed a water bottle and held it to his lips, gently guiding the water down his throat in small increments. "Small sips, my love" he gulped down the water, soothing his dry thoat. "Your IV has finished. I'll re-examine you in a moment, but I'll give you some time since you just woke up." He nodded and began signing again.

"Can I have a hug please?" He looked embarrassed at the request. Usually I'd gag at the prospect of cuddling someone, but he's very special to me, and I love hugging him.

I smile at him and cup his face "You can have as many hugs as you want, mi amor. Don't be afraid to ask me that. Come here" I gently wrapped my arms around him and pulled him into my chest, careful not to cause any unnecessary discomfort.

"I know you're still not feeling the best, my lovely. But I'll make you all better soon I promise. It's the weekend so we can spend the next few days together." He smiled and I reciprocated, holding even tighter to my chest.

"Are you feeling okay sensory wise?" He signs that he's not feeling great. "Is the material for the blankets and pillows okay?" He nodded. "Is it your chest that's feeling weird?" He nods again "How does your chest feel?"

He began to speak with words this time. "Umm it still feels little bit tight. I still have shortness of breath." I nod at his words.

"Can you sit up for me? I'm gonna have a listen to your chest, sweet boy" he did as I asked. I took the stethoscope from around my neck and put in my ears, warming up the diaphragm against my palm for his comfort.

I placed the stethoscope onto his chest to listen. "Is that too cold, sweetheart?" He shook his head and I smiled, kissing his temple shortly afterwards. His heart was racing, at least 90bpm.

"Hey, sweet boy it's okay. Are you panicking a little?" He nods his head frantically, his chest rose and fell rapidly as his breathing became more rapid. He began to stim, tapping his knees and playing with his fingers. He's gonna have a meltdown.

His heart rate had risen more, so has his breathing. "Oh sweetheart come here" I cooed. He leaned sideways into my shoulder, my arms securing his body. "We'll rock together while I listen to your heart so I can calm you down. Does that sound okay, my love?" He nodded and snuggled into me further.

His body was shaking a tremendous amount, as though his entire nervous system was in overdrive. I held him close to me while listening to his chest, wanting to hear his heartbeat slow down while I rocked him. "Shhhh you're okay, Y/N. You're okay. I've got you. You're safe in my arms." I reassured, hoping it would slow down his heart rate.

"I'm sorry!" He cried into me.

"What an earth for, my love?" I haven't the faintest idea why he's so upset.

"I'm sorry for not getting better. I'm such a burden, taking up all your time to look after me. I'm so sorry Wednesday!" My heart broke. I could never be mad at him for needing me to take care of him, he's sick and needs his partner to help him.

"Shh shh shh I'm not mad at you, mi amor. I could never be mad. Your illness is just being stubborn is all, it's not your fault." I say whilst holding him, rocking him gently, listening to the sound of his heart slow down at my reassuring words.

"You're doing so well, my love. Your heart is calming down a bit too. Take deep breaths for me, I'll do them with you." He followed my deep breathing techniques, his heart slowed because of it which caused relief to flow through me.

His heart rate became steady enough for my liking. Now that he was more relaxed, it was time to listen to his breathing. I moved the stethoscope down to his ribs to listen to the lung sounds. "A couple more deep breaths for me, sweet boy." He followed my instructions, the crackling in his lungs was still present, but not as prominent as last night.

I took off my stethoscope and put it around my neck. "You're lungs are clearing a bit, which means your condition is definitely improving." I feel his forehead to get a gauge of his temperature. "Your temp is lower too. How's your stomach feeling?"

"A little better than last night, still hurts a bit though." He says while still snuggled in my arms. I nod at his words and lean him onto his back, preparing some medicine for him.

I pour the medicine onto a spoon, he grimaced as he did so. "Alright darling open up" he sighed and reluctantly opened his mouth, accepting the spoonful of medicine. I patted his back to make the consumption of the horrible spoonful more bearable to swallow.

"Good job, Y/N. Are you feeling more relaxed now, my love?" He nods, but unable to talk. "Are you feeling non-verbal?" He nods again. "That's okay, you can sign if you want to. Can I take your blood pressure again?" He nodded and I kissed him on the cheek gently.

"Stick your arm out, my love" he does as he's told and I wrap the cuff around his bicep, making sure it's not too tight. "Does that feel okay?" He gave a thumbs up as response to my question. I put the stethoscope back in my ears, placing the diaphragm on the crook of his elbow where the brachial artery is located. I began squeezing the pump.

I stopped pumping the cuff and listened, his blood pressure had definitely improved. "130/86, better than last night. You're getting better my love" I smile softly and kiss his forehead. A sense of relief washes over Y/N. I put the stethoscope back around my neck and took the cuff off his arm.

"I know you probably won't feel better for atleast a couple days, maybe even a week. But, once you're all better I'll take you anywhere you want. The harvest festival is on soon. I know you don't like crowds but I promise I'll keep you safe and protected. We can get ice cream too" He smiled brightly which I happily reciprocated.

I cupped his face, my thumb rubbing in circles on his cheek. "But, like I said, we can go anywhere you want. My treat for being such a good patient" I open my arms for him rest his head against my chest, he gladly accept my embrace and moved himself to be held in my grasp as I sat on his bedside.

"I love you, Wednesday" He mumbled against my chest.

"I love you too, mi amor. My special boy" I kiss the top of his head and held him tight, not wanting this moment to end.

A/N

Thanks for reading this fic. I know Wednesday is quite out of character here which may be jarring to some people. If you'd like more stories where Wednesday is really gentle only for Y/N, please let me know.