#i spent nearly three hours editing this and what for?

[cup-of-starlight-waters]

Okay, let me tell you a story:

Once upon a time, there was a prose translation of the Pearl Poet’s Sir Gawain and the Green Knight. It was wonderfully charming and lyrical and perfect for use in a high school, and so a clever English teacher (as one did in the 70s) made a scan of the book for her students, saved it as a pdf, and printed copies off for her students every year. In true teacher tradition, she shared the file with her colleagues, and so for many years the students of the high school all studied Sir Gawain and the Green Knight from the same (very badly scanned) version of this wonderful prose translation.

In time, a new teacher became head of the English Department, and while he agreed that the prose translation was very wonderful he felt that the quality of the scan was much less so. Also in true teacher tradition, he then spent hours typing up the scan into a word processor, with a few typos here and there and a few places where he was genuinely just guessing wildly at what the scan actually said. This completed word document was much cleaner and easier for the students to read, and so of course he shared it with his colleagues, including his very new wide-eyed faculty member who was teaching British Literature for the first time (this was me).

As teachers sometimes do, he moved on for greener (ie, better paying) pastures, leaving behind the word document, but not the original pdf scan. This of course meant that as I was attempting to verify whether a weird word was a typo or a genuine artifact of the original translation, I had no other version to compare it to. Being a good card-holding gen zillenial I of course turned to google, making good use of the super secret plagiarism-checking teacher technique “Quotation Marks”, with an astonishing result:

By which I mean literally one result.

For my purposes, this was precisely what I needed: a very clean and crisp scan that allowed me to make corrections to my typed edition: a happily ever after, amen.

But beware, for deep within my soul a terrible Monster was stirring. Bane of procrastinators everywhere, my Curiosity had found a likely looking rabbit hole. See, this wonderfully clear and crisp scan was lacking in two rather important pieces of identifying information: the title of the book from which the scan was taken, and the name of the translator. The only identifying features were the section title “Precursors” (and no, that is not the title of the book, believe me I looked) and this little leaf-like motif by the page numbers:

(Remember the leaf. This will be important later.)

We shall not dwell at length on the hours of internet research that ensued—how the sun slowly dipped behind the horizon, grading abandoned in shadows half-lit by the the blue glow of the computer screen—how google search after search racked up, until an email warning of “unusual activity on your account” flashed into momentary existence before being consigned immediately and with some prejudice to the digital void—how one third of the way through a “comprehensive but not exhaustive” list of Sir Gawain translators despair crept in until I was left in utter darkness, screen black and eyes staring dully at the wall.

Above all, let us not admit to the fact that such an afternoon occurred not once, not twice, but three times.

Suffice to say, many hours had been spent in fruitless pursuit before a new thought crept in: if this book was so mysterious, so obscure as to defeat the modern search engine, perhaps the answer lay not in the technologies of today, but the wisdom of the past. Fingers trembling, I pulled up the last blast email that had been sent to current and former faculty and staff, and began to compose an email to the timeless and indomitable woman who had taught English to me when I was a student, and who had, after nearly fifty years, retired from teaching just before I returned to my alma mater.

After staring at the email for approximately five or so minutes, I winced, pressed send, and let my plea sail out into the void. I cannot adequately describe for you the instinctive reverence I possess towards this teacher; suffice to say that Ms English was and is a woman of remarkable character, as much a legend as an institution as a woman of flesh and blood whose enduring influence inspired countless students. There is not a student taught by Ms. English who does not have a story to tell about her, and her decline in her last years of teaching and eventual retirement in the face of COVID was the end of an era. She still remembers me, and every couple months one of her contemporaries and dear friends who still works as a guidance counsellor stops me in the hall to tell me that Ms. English says hello and that she is thrilled that I am teaching here—thrilled that I am teaching honors students—thrilled that I am now teaching the AP students. “Tell her I said hello back,” I always say, and smile.

Ms. English is a legend, and one does not expect legends to respond to you immediately. Who knows when a woman of her generation would next think to check her email? Who knows if she would remember?

The day after I sent the email I got this response:

My friends, I was shaken. I was stunned. Imagine asking God a question and he turns to you and says, “Hold on one moment, let me check with my predecessor.”

The idea that even Ms. English had inherited this mysterious translation had never even occurred to me as a possibility, not when Ms. English had been a faculty member since the early days of the school. How wonderful, I thought to myself. What a great thing, that this translation is so obscure and mysterious that it defeats even Ms. English.

A few days later, Ms. English emailed me again:

(I had, in fact searched through both the English office and the Annex—a dark, weirdly shaped concrete storage area containing a great deal of dust and many aging copies of various books—a few days prior. I had no luck, sadly.)

At last, though, I had a title and a description! I returned to my internet search, only to find to my dismay that there was no book that exactly matched the title. I found THE BRITISH TRADITION: POETRY, PROSE, AND DRAMA (which was not black and the table of contents I found did not include Sir Gawain) and THE ENGLISH TRADITION, a super early edition of the Prentice Hall textbooks we use today, which did have a black cover but there were absolutely zero images I could find of the table of contents or the interior and so I had no way of determining if it was the correct book short of laying out an unfortunate amount of cold hard cash for a potential dead end.

So I sighed, and relinquished my dreams of solving the mystery. Perhaps someday 30 years from now, I thought, I’ll be wandering through one of those mysterious bookshops filled with out of print books and I’ll pick up a book and there will be the translation, found out last!

So I sighed, and told the whole story to my colleagues for a laugh. I sent screenshots of Ms. English’s emails to my siblings who were also taught by her. I told the story to my Dad over dinner as my Great Adventure of the Week.

…my friends. I come by my rabbit-hole curiosity honestly, but my Dad is of a different generation of computer literacy and knows a few Deep Secrets that I have never learned. He asked me the title that Ms. English gave me, pulled up some mysterious catalogue site, and within ten minutes found a title card. There are apparently two copies available in libraries worldwide, one in Philadelphia and the other in British Columbia. I said, “sure, Dad,” and went upstairs. He texted me a link. Rolling my eyes, I opened it and looked at the description.

Huh, I thought. Four volumes, just like Ms. English said. I wonder…

Armed with a slightly different title and a publisher, I looked up “The English Tradition: Fiction macmillan” and the first entry is an eBay sale that had picture of the interior and LO AND BEHOLD:

THE LEAF. LOOK AT THE LEAF.

My dad found it! He found the book!!

Except for one teensy tiny problem which is that the cover of the book is uh a very bright green and not at all black like Ms. English said. Alas, it was a case of mistaken identity, because The English Tradition: Poetry does have a black cover, although it is the fiction volume which contains Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

And so having found the book at last, I have decided to purchase it for the sum of $8, that ever after the origins of this translation may once more be known.

In this year of 2022 this adventure took place, as this post bears witness, the end, amen.

(Edit: See here for part 2!)

[dumbseee]

oh shit.

pro hero!bakugo who has a crush on you.

pro hero!bakugo katsuki x idol!reader.

genre: fluff

__

- the first time bakugo agreed to do an interview was because todoroki and izuku were also there. the top three heroes were asked all sorts of questions before the journalist finally asked thee question. "so~ you guys are so private, we don’t really know much about you. so let’s get to know our top three heroes! first question, who is your celebrity crush?" she asked, a smirk on her lips as she looked at the three heroes in front of her. izuku blushed, fumbling with his answer, todoroki crossed his arms on his chest, saying that he had no time for that kind of stuff, and bakugo scoffed, crossing his legs on the small table in front of them. "celebrity crush? do you have other shitty questions or are we done?" he glared at the interviewer who nearly melted on the spot. izuku elbowed his friend and offered an awkward smile to the poor woman. "but aren’t you a big fan of y/n? i heard you sing her songs under the shower, one time." shoto chimed in, face blank. "what?! no! what are you saying ice hot?! i’ll fucking crush your face, come here!" bakugo jumped from his seat and had to be restrained by izuku and a few security guards, meanwhile shoto sat there, wondering what he did wrong this time.

- the interview went viral, with everyone making fun of the mighty dynamight and his little crush on you. he nearly sent shoto to the moon after seeing all those edits of you and him on social media or your fans calling him the president of the fandom. your fans are even shipping you together! and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t like it. he actually made a fake twitter and tiktok account where he’d like and favourite every single edit/tweet about you. he’d be smiling and blushing like a high schooler in the dark of his room.

- he has a locked drawer in his room, where he keeps all your albums and merch. he’d literally set on fire whoever manage to open it and discover his little secret.

- he spent hours in front of his phone, the screen showing your dm page on instagram, he wanted to dm you so bad. make the first move and try to get close to you, but bakugo was a coward, as funny as it sounded, bakugo was very intimidated by you. he ended up throwing his phone away, he’d try again tomorrow.

- one day he got called for an incident involving a woman and someone who tried to break into her house. nothing major so bakugo went alone, imagine his shock when he saw that the victim was you and the man was your stalker who’s been following you and harassing you for months. he immediately saw red and grabbed the man, slammed him to the ground and threatened to shove a bomb down his ass if he moved. "are you okay?" when you saw dynamite arrive from your window, you immediately ran outside, since you felt safe with the hero around. you hugged yourself and nodded, looking down at the shaking man, but bakugo didn’t believe you. soon enough, police arrived to arrest the man and everyone left, leaving you alone with bakugo. "he’ll leave you alone now, i’ll make sure of it." he smiled gently, putting a hand on your shoulder you forced a smile but slowly lost it when you saw him getting ready to leave. you quickly grabbed his hand and looked at him with pleading eyes, the sight made his heart jump. "please, will you stay with me?" how could he say no?

- bakugo couldn’t get rid of the pink color decorating his cheeks. it was the first time he met his celebrity crush and bakugo wished it was different. he wished he came earlier so you wouldn’t even be aware that your stalker was trying to break into your home. you offered him some food and water but he declined everything, you were getting ready for bed when the incident happened so you were exhausted from practice and rehearsal. you also felt bad for keeping him with you when he was clearly busy or tired from patrolling. "i’m so sorry for bothering you, i know he won’t come back, but i’m still terrified." you played with your hand and felt tears burning your eyes. "don’t. you don’t have to be ashamed for feeling scared, but trust me when i say this, this bastard won’t ever come close to you again." he said it in such a low tone, you thought you imagined it. you nodded and hugged him, which surprised him to no end and also made him as red as a tomato. he didn’t know what to do with his hands so he simply put them around your waist, gently patting your back.

- you fell asleep with the light on, bakugo was sitting on the chair next to your bed and kept his eye on you. he stayed with you till the sun woke up. he noticed every detail of your face, the small freckles decorating your beautiful nose, your long and dark lashes, your full and soft lips and overall your beautiful face. you were, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman bakugo had ever seen in his life. while looking at you, he felt a weird sense of possessiveness and protection wash over him. he wanted to protect you and make sure no one would ever hurt you again.

- when you woke up, you saw a small note on your nightstand, "had to leave for work pretty girl, but don’t worry i’ll see you soon. here’s my number: xxx - xxx - xxx" you didn’t know why but you smiled at his note. of course, you immediately registered his number and sent him a lovely text, thanking him again for yesterday and inviting him for dinner some day. you also signed it "your celebrity crush (;" bakugo almost choke on his coffee when he read your text.

[sierrale8ne]

paige bueckers x black!fwb!oc previous next

nsfw // 3.6k words, no dom/sub ordeal just pure horniness, use of an aphrodisiac, slight dry humping, thigh riding, fingering, tribbing, oral, squirting, multiple orgasms, dirty talk. inspired by this!

Venus hummed along softly to some song off of her (Paige’s) playlist as she sat on her couch. She was waiting for the athlete, who had just finished yet another late lifting session and told Venus she would be there within the hour.

The tattooed girl could very easily tell the difference in how badly the blonde had wanted to be around her these last couple weeks, and it hadn’t even been just about sex. Going on drives, to the movies, even just sitting on the couch and talking. Venus knew she couldn’t let it keep going like this, especially with how her feelings had grown from lust to love in what felt like a matter of seconds. But she had Paige in a way that nobody else did, so she would take what she could.

She heard the knock at her door and—shamefully— shot up and ran to it, opening the door fairly quickly to Paige in a SKIMS cotton ribbed tank top, the same one Venus swore up and down she had stolen last weekend. A black backpack rested on her shoulder and grey Nike sweat shorts were on her waist, exposing her long tanned legs, muscular from all the time she had spent in the gym lately.

“Wasted no time opening this door, huh?” The blonde joked, stepping aside and into the apartment. Her arms finding a home on Venus’s hips.

“Didn’t wanna hear you complain about me taking so long.” Venus responded.

“I don’t complain.”

“You’re complaining right now, or am I thinking things?” Venus chuckled, taking a hold of Paige’s hand and dragging her into the living room, retaking her spot on the couch.

Paige’s sea blue eyes raked over Venus body. Grey sweatpants that hung so low on her hips that she swore one more tug would’ve left her bottom half nude. Her top half was covered by a white tube top, the obvious tan lines on her from the Connecticut sun, peaking through. Venus’s hair was different, now instead of the jet black 30in hair she sported a week ago, she had her hair done in beautiful boho braids.

Paige was nearly drooling.

And her obvious hunger, reminded her of what she wanted to talk about in the first place.

Paige reached towards the floor, and into her bag. “So I was scrolling on TikTok the other night.” She began explaining, “and I came across, this.” Paige placed the box on Venus’s lap.

The box was a nice matte black, gold decals on the seam and decorating the simple font on the front. Limited edition: PINK CHERRY, followed by a very large center font. TABS.

Venus inspected it, slightly confused, before flipping it over, suddenly very intrigued with Paige’s nasty idea. “So like a honey pack, but chocolate.” Venus chuckled, pushing her hair out of her face.

“N-sure. Like a honey pack but chocolate.” Paige rolled her eyes. “You’re such a mom, reading all the information on the back. I promise you’ll be okay.” She joked.

Venus simply brushed the athlete off her eyes glued to the back: Break. Bite. Bang. Pleasure-boosting white chocolate, cherry blend with high-quality natural ingredients to increase your sex performance. She was intrigued.

Opening the box. the girl was met with three different squares, and admittedly, the chocolate looked very enticing. She grabbed one, popping it into her mouth without hesitation.

“Wait! Baby, we were supposed to take them together. Dumbass.” Paige groaned, reaching over and grabbing the second one for herself. She hummed at the flavor.

“Whatever. Split this last one with me.” Venus asked, snapping the chocolate in half and handing the blonde the triangular shaped piece. She closed the box before tossing it on the coffee table. “Now what?”

“You were the one doin’ allat reading. You tell me.”

Those were the last words that rang through the air as the pair sat on the couch. Paige had her legs spread as she sat back with her eyes darting around the room. Venus on the other hand, pulled her legs onto the comforting grey cushions, snuggling into the blonde’s side. She’d smelt like a nice mixture of roses and vanilla, a combination credited to the blonde’s body wash and shampoo respectively. The slight hint of cologne wafted through her nose, making Venus let out the slightest little moan.

The package had mentioned a 20-40 minute wait time and effects that would last for up to three hours, but truthfully after about half an hour, Venus was starting to feel the effects in full form. The box mentioned an amplified emotional connection, but she didn’t think it would be this serious. While her legs were definitely glued shut at this point her mind was running a thousand miles a minute and her heart nearly beat out of her chest. She didn’t know if she could really blame that on just the chocolate.

“You doin’ okay, blondie?” She asked lowly, taking her eyes off the poor Netflix movie Paige had chosen to pass the time, and instead looking over at the girl next to her. The flush on her ivory skin was indescribable. Paige’s chest rose and fell at a rapid rate, her hardened nipples very clear under Venus’s her shirt. She bit her bottom lip softly, and her eyes fluttered every time they closed. “Holy shit, it’s working!”

“Yes, it’s fucking working.” Paige gulped, and the girl’s eyes followed the bob of her throat.

Paige’s right arm was draped over Venus’s shoulder, pulling her close. The heat that radiated off them felt like a dream. Venus’s crazy sex appeal didn’t help her either. The tattoos across her upper body practically glowed under the small lamp light, hair beautifully framing her sculpted face, and the lips Paige loved so much, covered in a sheer pink lip balm. “Im not gonna lie, you got me so fuckin’ soaked right now.”

“Wanna show me?”

That was the nail in coffin. Paige reached over, pulling Venus onto her lap and instantly smashing her lips against the other. They were starving, basically trying to eat the other alive. Venus’s tongue pushed into Paige’s mouth, as she chased her lips. She angled her head a little more, holding the blonde’s face between her hands as she deepened the kiss. Paige’s nails dug into Venus’s plush thighs.

“I need you, baby.” Venus breathes, pulling away from the kiss to push Paige’s hair from her face. A smile fell onto Paige’s swollen lips.

Baby. Venus wasn’t one for pet names, she thought it would cause her to fall deeper into the rabbit hole that was Paige. But she did now, and it was everything she hoped it to be.

Her hips bucked up to meet Venus halfway, desperately searching for something to ease the ache in her stomach. Their lips chased the other feverishly as they rocked back and forth. The only thing heard in the room other than their clothes rubbing and heavy breaths was the voice of the actors on TV.

“You’re killin’ me here, V.” Paige spoke against her lips, “fuckin’ killing me.”

Paige pulled off to kiss and suck at Venus’s neck. Her slender fingers dipping to the waistband of the girl’s sweats. She struggled taking them off, mind slightly clouded by her very obvious lust, but all Venus needed was for them to get past her knees. She kicked them off the rest of the way.

“Need you so bad. Mmph, Look.” Her eyes fluttered shut when Paige bit her sweet spot and eventually pulled away, but nonetheless Venus dragged her hand between her legs to her clothed cunt. The panties she wore were a nice lilac color that made Paige curse under her breath. “My pussy’s so wet for you, P.” Venus explained, using her manicured fingers to pull the cloth to the side. She softly positioned herself on Paige’s muscular thigh, pushing the material of her shorts away as she began slowly rocking on it.

“Oh my God.” Paige groaned, shocked at how wet she really was. It was one thing to see it, but to feel the warm slick on her leg was a different feeling.

The blonde pulled off her tank top, fingers immediately meeting the pink, swollen, and unbelievably sensitive nipples on her chest as Venus continued grinding on her leg.

She brought a hand to Paige’s mouth, slightly touching her parted lips before slipping two fingers into her mouth. She had only ever seen Paige wildly dominant, even if Venus was the one doing the work. So her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head when she saw Paige wrap her lips around them and suck on them, her head slightly bobbing as she looked Venus in the eye.

Pulling out her soiled fingers, Venus let out another moan. Paige’s obvious pining combined with the tug of her clit against her muscular thigh felt like torture. “Fuck— gonna let me play with your pussy, baby?” She didn’t even give a chance for the girl to answer before sinking her hand into Paige’s shorts. Her boxers already stained by arousal. “So fuckin’ wet. Shit, Paige.” Venus’s hands slipped past the grey boxers as well feeling the warmth on her fingers and taking that as the okay to push them inside.

“Oh fuck, V.” The blonde’s head tipped back, the hands once playing with her tits now dropping to Venus’s hips, rocking her back and forth at whatever pace she pleased. There wasn’t any room for teasing with the way they were craving one another. She wanted Paige to moan in her ear now, to tell her how good it felt now, cum on her hand now.

With every push of her fingers, Venus’s hips seemed to move at an ungodly pace. Her clit throbbing so badly that Paige could feel the continued leak of her arousal. “So tight ‘round me, oh my God.”

“Venus. Fuck, ma, just like that. Right there.” Paige gripped her hips even harder, the bruises on those hips almost guaranteed at this point. “Feels good? Riding my thigh like a slut, it feels so good, yeah?”

The girl simply nodded. The pleasure she was feeling was absolutely otherworldly, her eyes rolling back slightly. She couldn’t do anything other than moan.

“I can’t wait to get a taste of you, ma. Want you to cum on my thigh first, okay? Please.” Every thrust of Venus’s made Paige’s jaw drop or eyes roll. The way she felt right now was completely indescribable. Her plump bottom lip was taken between her teeth, filthy, guttural groans escaping her throat.

“I—shit. Pleasepleaseplease, ooh fuck! Please, Paige.” Venus babbled, not even knowing if she was begging for the girl to cum, or for her own orgasm. The lust blending and turning her brain to mush as she came almost immediately. She had never came that fast in her life, no matter how good Paige fucked her.

While her hips slowed and her head gently dipped into the crook of Paige’s neck, she sped her fingers up some more. “I’m gonna get you there, make you cum on my hand. I promise.” Venus spoke into the blonde’s ear.

“C’mon, I’m so close, baby. Fuck me like that. Please, don’t stop.” Venus dipped her head down to Paige’s neck, peppering wet kisses across her jugular. The blatant pleading from the woman under her was intoxicating, she wanted to see her like this more often.

Paige had luckily stopped moving Venus across her leg, but she didn’t stop feeling her up. Hands roaming feverishly along the girls thighs and ass, stopping to grip the flesh in her hands for leverage.

“Sound so good, you gonna cum for me?” Venus asked, snaking her head to lock eyes with Paige.

Face flushed, mouth agape, her blue eyes suddenly very dark by her pupils. She looked fucking hot. It made Venus’s body tingle knowing she was the only one who looked at her like this. Who could make her look like this.

“Yes. I’m cumming, baby, I— fuck!” The high pitched moan that escaped the blonde nearly made Venus cum a second time, arousal dripping down her inner thigh. A smile formed on the girls face as she brought her thumb to Paige’s clit. She rubbed it softly, her fingers helping Paige ride it out.

Venus leaned forward to kiss her lips briefly, or at least she attempted to before Paige’s large hand snuck into her braids and pulled her in deeper. She slipped her hand out of the blonde’s, now completely soaked, sweats, bringing her slim manicured fingers closer to her mouth.

“You’re unreal.” Paige spoke breathlessly when they finally pulled away. Bringing her fingers to her mouth, the piercing on her tongue making an appearance as she licked all of Paige from her fingers, humming at the taste before removing them.

“You taste so good, P.”

“Clothes off.” The blonde demanded, slightly pushing Venus off her lap.

The atmosphere suddenly shifted. Whatever was in those chocolates was working because neither one of them was so fast to start taking off their clothes. Paige kicked off her sweats and boxers, eagerly lying back on the couch with a hand between her legs and watching Venus pull off her dripping panties and tight fitting white shirt.

“You can’t wait for me?” Venus teased, pushing the girl’s hand away from her sopping cunt and situating herself between Paige’s legs. “What?” She asked, noticing the way those enticing blue eyes stared at her body. Raking over her perky tits, toned stomach, hips that sported bruises from just minutes prior, her folds and how they glistened in arousal.

Licking her lips, Paige shook her head, practically in disbelief. “You’re just so gorgeous. I keep forgetting.” Her hands reached for Venus’s hips, pulling her closer so she could slot their legs together. “Been thinking about you and this pussy all day, pretty girl.”

Venus shifted forward, pushing her cunt right onto Paige’s and searching for that perfect angle. It was a bit of a struggle getting in the perfect position, the abundance of wetness in between them both caused Venus to slip but once she found it, it was endgame.

Paige bit on her lower lip so forcefully she almost drew blood, her strong hands found their home on either side of Venus’s hips again, assisting her in grinding against her.

“Tell me.” Venus asked, her breathing slightly picking up. “Tell me what you been thinking about, P”

Her statement was followed by desperate jerks as she rolled her hips and pushed her swollen clit against Paige’s, however, the pleasure became increasingly intense. Paige meeting her halfway while those hands trailed up to her tits made Venus’s. eyes water and eyebrows furrow tightly.

“You riding me—fuck—lookin’ so damn fine on top of me.” The athlete explained, the sensitivity making her orgasm build in her core already. “Pushin’ these legs to your ears and making you take me. I’d fuck you so good, baby, you know that? Get so deep in it you’d be cryin’ for me.”

“Paige—”

“Bend you over every fuckin’ surface in this house.” Paige continued as the tension increased, driving Venus to pick up the pace. Kneading at the girls chest, pinching at her nipples before sitting up slightly and pulling the right one into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the flesh, looking up through her eyelashes at how Venus bit her lip.

She moved her attention to Venus’s other breast, leaving red marks as she went before suckling on that nipple as well. Venus let out a moan into her ear, the friction between them had them both soaking wet on the couch.

“Mmm— How hard I’d make you cum,” Paige started as she pulled back, looking between her legs at the mess on her thighs. “Have you squirt all over me, on the floor, on this damn couch.”

“Shit, baby!” Frantic moans tumbled out of Venus. The room was filled with the sounds of her high pitched whimpers and Paige’s words and blissed out curses. And don’t forget about the wet, smacking sound of hot skin against skin.

“Fuckin’ gonna make me cum. Keep talkin’, please.”

“Shit— I wanna eat you ‘til you’re begging me to stop. I wanna stretch this pretty pussy so wide with my cock. You’d like that, huh? My nasty li’l slut.” Paige was blabbering at this point, sharing her filthiest thoughts while her orgasm approached, the coil in her stomach nearly snapped. “Shit’s leaking for me, baby. You’re so wet, oh my God. Fuck, V.”

She was getting close, her back was arching, and Venus was drooling at the sight of her toned abs and perfect tits put on display the tan of her biceps and tan lines on her torso— it was a sight that was nearly enough to push the tattooed girl over the edge. Paige was eagerly meeting her halfway, bucking up into Venus with haste.

“Good girl. You’re so good, baby, just like that.”

“‘M gonna cum, fuck!” Venus announced, covering Paige’s cunt in her release and the blonde followed soon after with a cry of the girl’s name. Venus held onto Paige’s waist slowing her movements to ride them through their high before sliding off and slumping against the other slide of the couch.

Her chest heaved, and even despite her powerful orgasms and obvious exhaustion from her exertions, the pulse between her legs was undeniably painful. Her clit was so sensitive and the feeling in her lower abdomen seemingly went away for five seconds before coming back like a tidal wave.

“Let me clean you up.”

“What?”

“What?” Paige mocked, “you heard me. Open your legs, ma.”

Paige was a tease. Because while Venus for sure thought she would wipe her down with her shirt, she nearly cried when she felt the girl’s tongue on her clit. The soft kitten licks were enough to break her apart on Paige’s tongue.

“Box said three hours, so let me get you right.” Paige commented, swirling her pointed tongue around the bud. “Wanna make you cum as many times as you need it, baby.” That tone of voice made Venus’s eyes roll to the back of her head, vibrations forcing her legs to close around that full head of blonde hair.

Paige found a grip on her thighs, spreading them wide as she dived deeper into Venus’s cunt. Her nose nudging at the girls clit, sending Venus into a frenzy of moans and whines.

“Paige, oh fuck. Paige!” Her back arching as her hand slipped into the athlete’s blonde hair. Venus’s hand slipped down to her shoulder, making making some sort of attempt to squirm away and get some kind of air back into her lungs.

“Don’t run, baby. You can take it.” Paige murmured, pulling back to push a strand of hair behind her ear, before pulling Venus closer.

“Too much, P.”

“Ion care. Hold your legs up.” She said before going back to her meal.

Paige’s tongue dug deep into Venus’s hole, her left hand spreading her folds open and her right thumb used to add pressure to the girl’s clit. And despite her reluctance to, Venus held her legs open, nails digging into the flesh on her inner thighs as Paige ate her out until she saw stars.

“You taste so good, so fuckin’ good, mama.” Her lips wrapped around Venus’s clit like a straw, sucking and sucking and sucking until the girl’s legs fell from her grasp and shook on the couch cushions. “You not tapping out on me yet, are you?”

“N-No, no— fuck, m’ cummin’—”

Paige nearly laughed, lapping at Venus’s essence with her strong muscle, “I know. C’mon, pretty girl. I gotchu.”

Venus’s orgasm washed over her as she squirted, the inevitable squelching sound of her arousal spraying out of her bounced off the walls of her apartment. Her neighbors by now knew Paige’s name and just how good the blonde had made her cum, with how loud she was moaning.

Spurts of the liquid covered Paige’s face and chest as Venus finally came down from her high. Her legs never stoped shaking because the girl’s tongue never stopped moving, Paige finally worked on cleaning her up. Once her mouth finally detached from Venus’s trembling pussy, she began slow kisses up her body, her hipbones, her abdomen, her sore nipples and decorated neck, before finally connecting their lips.

Venus hummed at her taste off of Paige’s lips. The kiss slow and passionate, completely different than the manner in which they just had sex. Venus licked the girl’s bottom lip tasting herself some more when her tongue clashed against Paige’s.

They were drinking in one another, taking advantage of this opportunity as if anything could take it away. Paige’s hands cupped her face, holding Venus close. She craved her every minute of every day, her body was pulled to Venus like an otherworldly force pushed them together. She lived off of whatever Venus thought of her, she changed the things that Venus despised just to make her happy. Hell, the name Venus ran circles in her head, lived there rent free, and played like a broken record over and over and over again.

“God, I fucking love you, Paige.”

So when she heard those words ring into her ears and be spoken against her lips she nearly passed out.

“Y-you what? What did you just say?”

“Nothing.”

“No. Don’t do that, say it again.” Paige directed, sitting up from her position and looking the girl in her eyes, hands clasped almost permanently on her cheeks. “Say it.”

“I love you?” The sudden confidence had disappeared. Venus was almost sure that she had ruined this, that her admission was gonna make Paige stand up and throw her clothes on and walk right out of her door and her life.

But it didn’t.

Paige had let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding in and connected their lips again, this time in a much shorter exchange.

“I love you too.”

authors note this was the nastiest shit i’ve ever written, i feel like tumblr gives me free range. final part coming whenever i finish it 🌚 might take a lil longer… also thank you guys so much for all the support! it is very much appreciated 🥰

[imaginespazzi]

Part 2: And Even Now

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

Because I'll never let this go (but I can't find the words to tell you)

(In which a deadline-averse writer actually lives up to a weekly deadline)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, A little bit of fluff I guess?

Words: 6.9K (back to my usual)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Happy Monday! Nobody get used to me actually updating on a proper weekly basis because really, let's be honest you're all lowkey shocked I'm actually living up to this too but we'll see how long I can make it last. As you read, let's just all remember my favorite three words: For. The. Plot! Editing and I continue to be sworn enemies so you'll definitely find typos along the way and feel free to point them out so that I can fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next. Have a wonderful rest of your week my loves <3

February 2033

Azzi’s heart is beating a million miles per minute as she gets into her car. She’s just invited Paige into her world  and even if she knows that it was the right thing to do for her team, the full force of what she’s just done is starting to hit her. The plan had been the exact opposite. In fact the plan had been to avoid Paige at all costs while she was here in Oakland. Azzi had spent nearly a decade building this new world of hers that was devoid of anything Paige and it had taken Ohemaa an hour, explaining why Paige was the last domino they needed to fall to win a championship, to convince Azzi to bulldoze her own walls. 

Banging her head against the steering wheel, Azzi lets out a frustrated scream. She’d been the picture of calm and composed while talking to Paige, but internally an earthquake had started rumbling within her the minute she’d finally laid eyes on the blonde. It was unfair that age seemed to have no effect on Paige, unfair that she still made Azzi’s stomach do somersaults, unfair that that stupid smirk made Azzi nostalgic for a feeling she used to call home. It’s funny really. There was a time in Azzi’s life where she didn’t know how she’d survive without seeing Paige every day. But now if the blonde does accept her offer, Azzi thinks, seeing Paige every day, might just be her poison ivy. 

The sound of her car doors opening shakes Azzi out of her pity party, as she rushes to compose herself before Stephie sees her. Through the rear view mirror, she watches as her daughter happily climbs into her car seat, a giddy smile on her face. And all the stress and anxiety seems to evaporate. 

“What’s got you so happy Stephie bean? What did you and Aunty Leen do?” Azzi asks, so focused on Stephie’s grin, that she misses Colleen, who’s just let herself into the passenger seat, shaking her head.

“Aunty Leen lost me,” Stephie says coyly and Azzi immediately turns to Colleen whose head whips around to look at the little girl in the back seat. 

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd are you lying on my good name?” she hisses. 

“Stephie,” Azzi chides, catching on quickly “did you run away from Aunty Leen again?”

“She was boring me Mama,” Stephie whines, sticking her tongue out at Colleen, “and if I didn’t run away, then I wouldn’t have met Miss Buecks.”

Oh.

She told me she thinks I’d look good in purple.

Azzi’s breath hitches in her throat. She hadn’t quite registered that Paige’s words from before meant that she must have met Stephie, too busy finding a way to get out of the gym that was starting to feel just a little too hot. It only clicks now as Stephie starts to ramble about how she’d ran into a stranger in the chill room. But it’s not the idea of Stephie and Paige meeting that sends a shiver creeping up Azzi’s spine. No, it’s that enamored smile on Stephie’s face. It’s the way Azzi’s little girl’s eyes light up just saying those two syllables Miss Buecks. Maybe it’s genetic or perhaps just a Fudd family fatal flaw but Azzi can see a fourteen year old version of herself, blooming in Stephie. She’d hidden it well, behind exasperated head shakes and exaggerated eye rolls but falling in love with Paige Bueckers had been just a little to easy back then. Apparently, it still was. 

“She was really nice Mama,” Stephie gushes and Azzi’s hand tightens on the steering wheel, “is she gonna come play for your team? I told her she should.”

“So I heard,” Azzi murmurs and she can feel Colleen’s eyes immediately shifting to look at her. 

“You talked to Paige?” Azzi’s best friend asks, a skeptical lilt in her voice. 

Azzi shrugs, “I ran into her in the gym.”

“And what exactly were you doing in the gym?” 

“Looking for Paige,” Azzi says sheepishly as Collen makes an indiscernible noise.

“Did you ask her to join your team Mama?” Stephie chimes in eagerly from the back, unaware of the way that the childlike hope in her voice is putting her mother on edge. Azzi has built an impenetrable fortress around her own heart but she’d never considered that perhaps she should have built a moat around Stephie’s too. 

“Yeah baby, I did,” Azzi admits slowly and this time Colleen lets an audible gasp, except it’s drowned out by a series of exhilarated squeals erupting from the backseat. 

“MISS BUECKS IS GONNA JOIN MAMA’S TEAM,” Stephie screams, practically bouncing on her seat as she begins to repeat the phrase in a sing-song voice. 

“Hold your horses, kid. She hasn’t said yes yet,” Azzi warns. 

Stephie smiles secretly, “but she will Mama, I know she will.”

It makes Azzi feel lightheaded, the amount of trust Stephie seems to already have in a stranger. There’s a part of her that wants to crawl into her daughter’s mind and erase the memory of blonde hair and blue eyes because she knows, she knows better than anyone, that once you walk through that door, there is no coming back. And Paige would never willingly hurt Stephie -even after a decade apart Azzi has that much faith in the blonde- but that doesn’t mean that she wouldn’t break her heart any way. 

Colleen turns to Azzi, a look of unmistakable concern on her face as she makes a show of putting her hand against the darker-skinned girl’s forehead, “are you feeling okay?”

“Oh fudge off,” Azzi groans, swatting away her best friend’s hand

“Azzi let me get this straight, you’re telling me you asked your e-x-g-i-r-l-f-r-i-e-n-d to join your team?”

“Look at you spelling Col, I’m so proud of you-”

“Don’t start,” Colleen shoots her a look and Azzi sighs, “what happened to going into Ohemaa’s office and making sure that didn’t happen?”

“I did what I had to,” Azzi shrugs, “I put the team first.”

“And what about-”

“Colleen please,” Azzi begs softly, a wave of tiredness washing over her, “it’s done okay. And it might not even matter. She might not even say yes.”

Colleen opens her mouth and then sighs, seeing something in Azzi’s face that convinces her not to push. There isn’t anyone else in the world who knows Azzi better than her best friend, except maybe the woman they’re talking about. Paige would’ve pushed, she always had. Pushed and pushed until Azzi was letting herself free fall off a cliff, only harnessed by Paige’s promise to catch her before she hit the ground. And then one day Azzi had unclipped the harness, and it was their relationship that had come crashing down. 

“Mama,” Stephie’s inquisitive voice calls from behind and Azzi hums in response, starting up her car, “you knew Miss Bueckers when she was littler right?”

“I knew her when she was younger,” Azzi corrects gently and knew feels like an understatement. They’d lived in each other’s skin, carving themselves onto parts of each other they hadn’t even known existed until the other had come along. 

“Same thing Mama,” Stephie huffs, “was she still so pretty then?”

And as pictures of a younger Paige, beautiful and vibrant like the sun shining on the pavement after a thunderstorm, dance through her mind, Azzi can’t stop the soft smile that flitters across her face. 

“She’s always been the prettiest.”

***

Paige isn’t feeling particularly talkative when her phone rings, Talia’s name flashing on the CallerID. Her senses are still drowned in all things Azzi and she’s not quite ready to be rescued from the ocean of memories that have suddenly flooded her entire being. She wants to lose herself in them, let herself be drawn back to what was. Paige has spent the better part of the last decade running away from her past but today, for the first time, all she wants is to let this slideshow of nostalgia keep on playing through her mind. 

“Talia if you’re calling just to say I told you so,” Paige sneers into the phone, finally picking it up after the ringing starts to give her a mild headache. She’d texted Thalia almost immediately after speaking to Azzi, a simple i think i could make the Valks work, purposely leaving out what, or more precisely who, had convinced her. 

“I would never,” Talia says with a hint of amusement, “if I started telling you I told you so after every time I was right, I fear I’d never have anything else to say to you because I am in fact, always right.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “alright then if you’re done gloating.”

“I didn’t call to gloat,” the manager’s voice is more serious now, “I called to tell you that I talked to the Liberty and they have an offer.”

“The Liberty don’t have cap space,” Paige says slowly, stomach suddenly queasy.

“They don’t have cap space this season,” Talia corrects, “but things are gonna change for them with Sabrina retiring after this season and they can move a couple of other things around to give us what we want next season.”

“What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying that the Valkyries don’t have to be anything more than a pit stop. I know I pressured you into this but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been trying to figure something else out for you behind the scenes.”

“And I assume you’ve talked to Ohemaa too then?”

Talia scoffs, “do I look like an amateur agent to you? Of course I have. This works for them too. If all goes to plan, they have the rights to Atlanta’s #3 pick in the draft and if the mocks have gotten it right, they’ll get Angie Davis.”

“The Stanford PG,” Paige breathes out. 

“Exactly. She’ll get a year developing under you and then hopefully they won’t need you next year. And you won’t need them. Everybody wins.”

It sounds like the perfect solution. The Valkyrie’s would get what they need out of her and she’d get what she needed out of them. Then they’d part ways and Paige’s past would no longer be a factor in her present once she got to New York. One year and then everything would fall into place the way she’d wanted it to. It should fill her with excitement or relief or maybe even both but instead Paige feels nothing but unease, like she’s sealing herself to a fate of never truly having a home. 

She rubs a tired hand across her face, “what if I don’t want to leave after a year?”

“Then we can talk about it in a year. You’re not signing anything other than a one-year contract with the Valkyries right now and letting both them and the Liberty know that you're keeping your options open,” Talia says, her tone perfectly business-like. 

“Good,” Paige lets out a small sigh of relief at knowing she isn’t about to get herself legally bound to anything, “that’s good.”

“Why don’t you sound more happy about this Paige?” an irritated timbre slips into Talia’s words, “you were practically begging me to find you a way out of this and now that I have, it seems like you would rather I hadn’t.”

“The Valkyries are a good organization. Good front office, good GM, good coach, good facilities and you know how much I’ve always loved the Bay Area. Every time we’ve come here to play, the atmosphere has always been amazing. This place breathes basketball and I just wanna be a part of that,” and Paige means every word of it, even if there are other reasons at play.

“But you already knew all of that before you went down there Paige so cut the bullshit. Why exactly are you suddenly on board with all of this?” Talia asks, her voice hardening and Paige hates that her manager, who had really been more of a friend for the last couple of years, knows her just a little too well. 

“I met someone-”

“Oh fucking hell,” Talia groans, “please tell me you’re not making career decisions with your pussy.”

“Don’t be crude Talia. After all these years, I think you’d know me better than that. I met a little girl,” an uncontrollably smitten grin flickers across Paige’s face as she thinks back to her conversation with Stephie, “and she- she made some good points about why I should be a Golden State Valkyrie. You’d be surprised how smart little kids are these days.”

Thalia’s voice is drenched in skepticism when she speaks again, “you met a little girl? Where?”

“At the Valkyries training facilities,” as soon as she says it Paige wishes she’d lied. 

“What was a little girl doing at-,” another loud groan echoes through Paige’s phone and she can practically picture her agent fighting back the urge to facepalm, “please tell me you’re not talking about Azzi Fudd’s daughter.”

“I can’t tell you that,” Paige says, trying to keep her voice light.

“Jesus fucking christ Paige so you are thinking with your pussy then. You’re telling me you wanna join GSV because your ex-girlfriend’s daughter thinks you should? Do you hear how insane that sounds?”

No, Paige thinks, I want to join because my ex-girlfriend thinks I should. Except she’s pretty sure that wouldn’t go over any better with Talia. She knows it sounds insane, knows it’s a little pathetic the power Azzi still has over her, knows that it should have taken more than just Azzi’s little speech to change her adamant no into a resounding yes. But the truth is that the only good reason she’d even had to not want to go to GSV, was rooted in Azzi and once Azzi had removed that barrier, the decision had never seemed clearer. 

“You said it yourself Tals. It’s been years. This isn’t about her and me. It’s about basketball and it’s about winning,” Paige says finally, even if the words don’t sit sound right as they waterfall out of her mouth. 

“So this has nothing to do with Azzi Fudd?” Talia inquires. 

“Nothing other than the fact that she’s the best shooting guard in the country and together we can be the best backcourt in the WNBA. Azzi Fudd,” it’s the first time Paige has said her name in a long time and it ignites a fire on the tip of her tongue “is my past and she’ll never be anything more than a future teammate, not again. Besides,” Paige’s stomach churns as the next words leave her mouth, “like you said. GSV doesn’t have to be anything more than a temporary pit stop.”

***

Putting away her weights, Azzi uses her forearm to wipe away the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She hides a smile as her eyes fall on Stephie. A look of pure concentration marks her daughter’s face as she puts her full little body into lifting a set of 2kg weights. It’s become their Sunday routine. Azzi comes to the Valkyrie’s fitness center to train and Stephie follows along, pitter pattering behind Azzi and trying to mimic every exercise her mother attempts. 

“Mama,” Stephie gushes as she catches Azzi’s eyes in the mirror, “I did twenty today. I think I can do the 3kg ones next time.”

Azzi laughs, walking over and bending down to give the little girl a high-5, “oh yeah? You think you’re ready to move onto the next level.”

“Yeah I am!” Stephie cheers, trying to flex her biceps, “look how big they’re getting.”

“Oh my god baby they’re almost bigger than mine,” Azzi says dramatically, flexing her own arms right next to Stephie’s. 

“Just give me a year,” Stephie promises, giggling as she wraps her arms around her mother’s neck, “I’m gonna be the strongest Fudd.”

Azzi lifts her up with ease, pressing a delicate kiss against her daughter’s hair as the little girl settles into her side, hands immediately playing with the “S” necklace around Azzi’s neck. 

“When Miss Buecks joins your team, do you think she can come ex-cise with us too?” Stephie asks shyly and Azzi sighs as she grabs for her gym bag. 

She should have expected the question really. In the hours that had passed since Stephie had met Paige, the older woman’s name seemed to have risen to the top of the little girl’s vocabulary. Every little thing they’d done since had been accompanied by the mention of Miss Buecks, either a plea to have Paige join them next time or Stephie gushing about how she just knew Miss Buecks would be good at this too. 

“You know kid, I’m beginning to think you might like Miss Buecks more than me,” Azzi teases with a lightheartedness she doesn’t feel. But she won’t let her own discomfort bleed into Stephie’s excitement. 

“Don’t be silly Mama,” Stephie pulls at Azzi’s cheeks, “you’ll always be my favoritest.”

Don’t worry Az, you’ll always be my most favorite. It’s Paige's voice that echoes through her mind, casual and carefree and so, so honest. And she needs to stop doing this, needs to stop her brain from tying her present to the threads of her past, needs to stop her heart from letting Stephie and Paige be pieces of the same puzzle. It’s a dangerous wish she’d let bloom in secret for years but not all wishes are meant to come true, some are meant to tragically wilter in the darkness until they turn into a wistful what if. 

A shrill “MISS BUECKS,” breaks Azzi out of her thoughts as the child in her arms starts to wriggle out of her grasp the minute they step out of the fitness center. As soon as Stephie manages to get on the ground, she’s running before Azzi can get a word out to stop her. And all Azzi can do is watch as Paige turns around at the call of her name, neutral face breaking into a luminescent smile as she catches sight of Stephie running towards her. 

“MISS BUECKS,” Stephie squeals again, tiny hands outstretched as she picks up speed. 

“STEPHIE,” Paige matches the excitement in the little girl’s voice, swinging her into her arms and spinning her around before finally holding her firm against her hip. 

“I missed you,” Stephie confesses, “did you miss me?”

Paige's eyes soften as she nuzzles Stephies nose, “of course I did.”

Azzi feels paralyzed as she watches the scene unfold in front of her. Stephie excitedly chatters about some random topic and Paige seems mesmerized by the most mundane stories. And Azzi’s not sure if she’s floating or sinking, but she knows if she lets them, the tears begging to be released from her eyes could flood everything around her. Her hands fist of their own accord as she takes a step towards Paige and Stephie and it’s like a nightmare and a daydream all at once. 

“Mama look,” Stephie notices her first, “Miss Buecks is here.”

Paige looks over Stephie’s head and as cerulean blue eyes pierce into Azzi’s dark brown ones, she wonders if Paige is thinking of it too, of the future they used to talk about while curled up in one of their UConn dorms as their hands traced forever into each other’s palms.

“I can see that Steph,” she musters up a polite smile, “Hi Paige.”

She gets an equally polite smile back in return, “Hi Azzi.”

Her name sounds different on Paige’s lips and Azzi misses the way Paige’s eyes used to twinkle just saying it, the way her lips would curl around that one word like it carried the meaning of life itself. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie turns Paige’s face away from Azzi, hand resting against her cheek, “did you say yes to joining Mama’s team?”

Paige’s eyes flicker towards Azzi again, before coming back to rest on the hopeful little girl, “I did. I just signed the contract.”

Stephie screams, arms wrapping around Paige’s neck and Azzi expects Paige to at least flinch, but the blonde simply laughs, hugging Azzi’s little girl back with equal fervor. 

“I take it you’re happy,” Paige whispers. 

“I’m-,” Stephie crawls out from Paige’s neck to look at Azzi, “Mama what’s that big word you use es-est-”

“Ecstatic,” Azzi whispers, trying to pretend that Paige’s announcement hasn’t knocked the wind out of her. Hell has just become official and Azzi had personally invited it. 

“I’m es-tatic that you’re joining Mama’s team Miss Buecks. I told Mama that I knew you would. I'm gonna cheer so loud for you,” Stephie says, unaware that her innocent words feel like shards of broken glass piercing at Azzi’s skin. 

“That makes me ecstatic Stephie,” Paige says softly but there’s a hint of something else there that Azzi can’t quite place; the realization that she’s no longer as well-versed in the notes of Paige’s voice hits her like a hailstorm. 

“Welcome to Golden State,” she manages to stutter out and Paige’s eyes drift to her before warily looking down to her outstretched hands, “I think we’ll make a good team.”

“I’m counting on it,” Paige nods as she reaches out the hand that’s not holding Stephie. And the moment they touch, it’s still electric, like lightning during the first thunderstorm after a drought. They stare at each other and Azzi wonders if Paige is thinking it too, thinking that if only they’d held on like this eight years ago when they should have. Blinking away droplets of what happened to you and me forever, Azzi reluctantly lets go of Paige’s hand, ignoring the way the feeling of it still lingers, like it’s destined to etch itself onto Azzi’s palms. 

“Well Stephie bear, I think it’s time for us to go home,” she says slowly. 

Stephie crinkles her nose, “we’re not going home Mama. We’re getting ice cream,” she turns to Paige with a serious expression on her face, “we always get ice cream after ex-cise. Mama says it’s good for the soul.”

“She’s right. Ice cream is good for the soul,” Paige smiles, giving Azzi a knowing look. 

“OH,” Stephie shrieks, “Miss Buecks you should come with us so we can cel-bate you coming to Mama’s team.”

Azzi’s eyes widen, immediately getting ready to shut that dreadful idea down, “Miss Buecks is busy baby and she probably wants to celebrate with her own family.”

And if the word family makes Paige flinch, Azzi pretends she doesn’t notice. 

“You don’t wanna cel-bate with me Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks and Azzi knows that even if Paige had intended to decline Stephie’s offer, once her daughter gives her those big sad eyes, the already people-pleasing blonde won’t say no. 

“Nobody else I’d rather celebrate with,” Paige caves and Azzi sighs, switching her bag to her other shoulder. Some things would never change. Some things about Paige, she would always be able to predict. 

“Yay,” Stephie cheers, finally slipping down from Paige’s lap, only so she can lace one hand in Paige’s and the other in Azzi’s, “let’s go cel-bate.”

***

It’s the first time they’ve been in a car together in a decade, and still the instinct to reach out and grab Azzi’s hand as she drives, prickles against Paige’s fingertips. She tries to focus on the road ahead, tries to focus on whatever story Stephie is telling from the backseat, tries to focus on anything but the woman in the driver’s seat who used to be her passenger princess. 

“You’ve turned into a pretty good driver,” she quips slowly, trying to lighten the tension between them, “I’m only just a little bit scared for my life right now.”

Azzi cracks a small smile, “are you ready to admit I’m a better driver than you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Mama’s the best driver in the world,” Stephie chimes in loyally, “was she a bad driver when she was littler?”

“Younger,” Azzi corrects immediately, “and I was always a good driver, Steph. Don’t listen to Miss Buecks.”

Paige scoffs, “don’t believe her Stephie. She once nearly killed me.”

“I did not. I can’t believe you’re lying to my child.”

“Am I?” Paige cocks her head, “so you didn’t nearly back into me that one time during Christmas?”

“That doesn’t count,” Azzi protests, “I didn’t even know you were coming to surprise me. How was I supposed to know you were going to be right outside the garage door while I was trying to pull out.”

“There are these things on your car called mirrors Azzi, think maybe you should try and use them sometimes.”

“It was dark and I was in a hurry.”

“Where could you possibly have had to go that late on Christmas?”

“I was going to surprise you,” Azzi exclaims, “but you beat me to it so,” her voice fades off as an awkward silence cuts into the easy banter. The memory of that night is clear in Paige’s mind. Christmas 2021 when they’d been teetering on the edge between something and everything. They’d decided they’d meet up the day after Christmas to exchange presents, leaving the day of it just for their families. But the whole day had passed and Paige had been consumed by nothing but missing Azzi. And as soon as night fell, her mind was made up to go see her best friend. She hadn't known just how much Azzi had missed her too. Not until now. It’s funny, Paige thinks, they’d once been the kind of people who didn’t know how to exist when they spent a day apart. Now they were the kind of people who’d fought to spend nearly a decade apart.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie cuts in again, voice inquisitive, and Paige doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of hearing the little girl call for her; it fills her with a warmth she didn’t even know she had the capacity to feel, “Mama said you’ve always been the prettiest, even when you were littler.”

Paige’s eyes dart to Azzi, a smirk playing on her lips as she watches a pink hue spread across the brunette’s cheeks, “she said that?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, hands tightening on the steering wheel as she finally maneuvers into a parking lot. 

“She did,” Stephie confirms, “and she said you were really good at bask-ball and really smart. And then Aunty Leen said something in her ear and Mama got all shy.”

“Right Stephanie. I think that’s enough talk about what Mama said,” Azzi says as she finishes parking and starts to unbuckle her seatbelt, muttering something about inflated egos under her breath. 

“Nah Stephie,” Paige grins as gets out of the car, “I like hearing what your Mama said about me.”

It earns her a glare from Azzi and that only makes her smile harder. Paige is no stranger to praise and compliments but it’s always meant just a little more when it came from Azzi. And she’d never admit it to anyone but every time she’d come across a clip of Azzi praising her over the last couple years, she’d let the clip loop for far longer than she should have.

“You know what Bueckers,” Azzi says, “you’re buying our ice cream.”

“That’s not fair Mama,” Stephie chides, “we’re here to cel-bate Miss Buecks. It’s her treat so you have to pay.”

“Yeah Azzi, it’s my treat so you have to pay,” Paige mimics, high-fiving a beaming Stephie. 

Azzi looks between the two of them, an offended expression on her face, “my own daughter,” she gasps, “betraying me. I see how it is.”

“You’re the one who says we have to be fair,” Stephie says, nudging her mother slightly so she can clutch her hand and then turns to look up at Paige, “was Mama really pretty when she was littler?”

“Younger” Azzi corrects again, before focusing on Paige, “and you don’t have to answer that. She’s seen photos of me from before.”

“But I wanna know from Miss Buecks,” Stephie whines. 

“Stephie,” Azzi warns, an edge to her voice. 

“She was the most beautiful girl in the world,” Paige says softly and two sets of dark brown eyes immediately flash up to her. The California sunshine makes Azzi glow but really that’s nothing new; Azzi has always been the brightest star, at least in Paige’s galaxy, and she can’t help but let the next words slip through her lips, “she still is.”

***

Azzi thinks Paige has never really known the impact of her own words. Whether it was the missiles she fired when angry or the shower of flower petals when she was feeling complimentary. And it seems like time has done nothing to change that because Paige continues to walk towards the ice cream parlor with absolutely no recognition of how Azzi’s heart has just burst into flames. 

She still is. 

It shouldn’t affect her the way it does, shouldn’t elicit any reaction more than just a cocky smirk but instead those three little words seem to imprint themselves on her cochlear, ringing around her like static as she tries to keep a façade of nonchalance. 

The ice cream parlor is bursting with people and it doesn’t take long before both Azzi and Paige are being asked for pictures. Protective instinct kicking in, Azzi reaches to grab for Stephie to keep her from getting lost in the crowd, only to find her already securely tucked into Paige’s side. Azzi watches as Paige interacts with the fans -she’s always been a natural at that- and somehow manages to keep Stephie entertained at the same time, conspiratorially whispering things to her in between interactions and making her giggle. It hurts and heals something inside her at the same time. The thing is, since Stephie was born, Azzi has done this whole thing alone and she’s never regretted it, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a part of her that hasn’t always wished for a partner, someone else who would protect her little girl with her. Like Paige is right now. But this is a mirage, a fever dream that isn’t Azzi’s to dream. 

So she looks away and hides her tears behind a dazzling smile for a photo with a fan. She’s gotten incredibly good at that. 

“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks excitedly when they finally manage to reach the counter.

“Oh um-” Paige scratches at her neck, “I like cookies and cream.”

Azzi guffaws at the lie, “your favorite flavor is cookies and cream?”

“Yes Azzi,” Paige glares, “I love cookies and cream.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow before dropping her voice down to a whisper, “why are you lying?”

Paige sighs, “I don’t want Stephie to think I’m weird.”

“Oh Paige,” Azzi can’t help but smile before turning to Stephie, “Steph what flavor are you getting?”

“Mint chocolate chip,” Stephie says excitedly, eyes fixated on the green ice cream and Paige’s mouth falls open a little bit as Azzi smirks at her. 

She turns to the cashier, “we’ll have open mint chocolate chip, one strawberry and one-”

“One more mint chocolate chip please,” Paige cuts in and both Azzi and Stephie look at her. 

“I thought you wanted cookies and cream Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks with a confused expression and Azzi barely manages to bite back her laugh. 

“I uh-,” Paige begins sheepishly, “I didn’t know they had mint chocolate chip. That’s my most favorite.”

Stephie is contemplatively quiet for a minute before a grin breaks out on her face, “Mama did you know Miss Buecks and I have the same favorite ice-cream flavor?”

“I had absolutely no idea,” Azzi says, winking at Paige as she pays for their ice cream. 

They opt to sit outside on one of the picnic benches overlooking the nearby park. Azzi is distinctly aware of how they might look to anyone walking by right now, like a family. Normally, ice cream Sundays are spent with Stephie rambling and Azzi listening but this time Stephie has someone who’s just as much of a chatterbox as she is. Paige hangs on to every word that comes out of the little girl’s mouth, answering questions and giving replies as if this is the most important conversation of her life. 

“Mama and I go to Stanford games all the time,” Stephie’s saying as Azzi tries to get out of her own head and zone into the conversation instead, “I’m gonna be a- what’s it called again Mama?”

“A Cardinal,” Azzi supplies helpfully. 

“I’m gonna be a Card-nal,” Stephie says and Paige gasps, turning to Azzi. 

“Oh my god you’ve raised a traitor,” she moans, shaking her head. 

Stephie scrunches her face, looking rather offended by that moniker, “I’m not a tray-tor.”

“Steph sweetheart look at me,” Paige says, her voice the epitome of seriousness as she holds the younger girl by her shoulders, “what are we?”

“Humans?” Stephie asks innocently and Azzi laughs.

“No Stephie we,” Paige uses her finger to point at her and Azzi, “we are Huskies. UConn Huskies. And what do we bleed?”

“Oh I know this one,” Stephie says excitedly, “we bleed blue.”

“So do you wanna be a boring old tree or do you wanna be a big, strong Husky who bleeds blue?”

“I wanna be a Husky,” Stephie cheers and Paige cheers along with her. Azzi rolls her eyes but it doesn't quite match the smile on her face. And then Stephie’s racing off to the swings, leaving Paige and Azzi alone for the first time in a long time. 

“Did you just manipulate my child into wanting to go to UConn?” she nudges Paige. 

“Of course not. I just made her understand what’s best for her and that’s UConn,” Paige nudges her back, “just like it was for you.”

“Yeah, it was,” Azzi says softly and they both know she means a lot more than just UConn.

“You um- you have a little bit of ice cream,” Paige points nervously to the edge of Azzi’s lip, hands reaching and then hesitating. And Azzi knows that she should at least attempt to wipe it off herself but she stays deathly still as Paige’s thumb finally makes its way to her face. It’s a featherlight touch that the blonde traces across her lips, their eyes transfixed on each other, neither of them breathing. And they’ve had far more intimate moments than this one but something about this, right here, feels apocalyptic. 

“I meant what I said before,” Paige whispers, “you’re still the most beautiful girl in the world.”

She gulps before starting to move away and Azzi feels a panic course through her blood as she hurriedly grabs the blonde’s hand. And she’s not supposed to do this; she should tell Paige not to say things like that but instead she’s  pulling the blonde closer, hand firmly clasped around her wrist. 

“Azzi,” Paige breathes out, like she wants to stop and start something at the same time. They’ve never really known self-control when it comes to each other. 

“I meant what I said to Stephie too,” Azzi whispers, “you’ve always been the prettiest.”

***

September 2029 

Wings 82 Valkyries 77

Paige almost falls to her knees as the buzzer sounds around the arena. The crowd is on their feet cheering as the Dallas Wings beat the Golden State Valkyries in a hard-fought semi-finals game 5 to advance to the WNBA finals. It takes a brief second and suddenly she has teammates circling all around her as they bask in their well-earned glory. 

“One more series to go. Wings in three,” Satou cheers and the whole team echoes after her. They’re not known to be the closest of teams but at this moment, they almost feel like family. 

Paige is exhausted as she’s ushered to do a sideline interview and she tries really hard to keep the irritation off her face when she realizes it’s Holly Rowe. The questions are generic and some are downright annoying, but Paige’s media training has always been stellar, and despite the fatigue rolling off her body, her answers are heartfelt and charismatic. The interview can’t be longer than three minutes but it feels like a lifetime before she’s finally walking away. Focused on the ground beneath her and trying not to cave into the exhaustion on her way to the media room, Paige doesn’t notice when she goes barrelling into a firm body. 

“Shit I’m so-” the words are stolen from her mouth as Tim Fudd turns around but it’s not him that attracts Paige’s attention. It’s the little girl cradled in his arms, a little girl who looks exactly like the fact that still haunts all of Paige’s memories. Tiny brown eyes stare up at her and Paige is mesmerized by this tiny creature who seems like she could captivate the whole world if she wanted to. 

“Congratulations Paige,” Tim says slowly and Paige tears her eyes away from the baby to look at the man who had once been the person who made it a mission to make her laugh whenever she was on the verge of crying, “I’m really proud of you kid.”

Paige’s eyes sting and she doesn’t know if she wants to run away or beg Tim to give her one of his patented bear hugs, “thank you. It really does mean a lot. She-,” her eyes flicker back down to the little tiny bean, “she’s beautiful.”

“Yeah she is,” pride shines in Tim’s voice, “you wanna hold her?”

“Oh no it’s ok-” Paige begins but before she can finish, there’s a baby being placed in her arms and everything around her seems to come to a standstill. 

“Her name’s Stephanie,” Tim says softly and Paige laughs because of course, of course Azzi would name her daughter Stephanie. 

“Hi Stephanie,” Paige coos, reaching out a finger to tickle the little girl, gasping when Stephanie's small chubby hands grasp it. And then the baby giggles, smiling at Paige as if she’s given her a gift and Paige swears she’s never loved a sound more in her life. 

“Can you hold her for a second while I go find Katie?” Tim asks and Paige shakes her head in panic but he’s already off before she can stop him. And then it’s just her and Stephanie, standing outside the media room. There’s people cluttering in and out of the rooms around her, the whole lobby is bustling with sounds but all Paige can focus on is the girl in her arms. 

“You’re so cute,” Paige whispers in a baby voice and Stephanie giggles, “yes you are, yes you are. I wanna steal you so bad.”

“I don’t think you can win a WNBA championship from jail,” a familiar voice says from behind her and Paige feels her stomach tying itself in knots as she turns to look at Azzi, “maybe try and kidnap my child after the finals?”

There’s a smile playing on Azzi’s lips but a storm brewing in her eyes and Paige knows that if she rests a heart against the darker-skinned girl, she’ll find it beating to the same hyper rhythm as Paige’s. 

“Congratulations Paige,” Azzi says softly as she takes another step towards her, “you guys deserved it.”

“Y’all made it hard as hell-I mean shit-no fuck,” Paige swears and the child in her arms giggles as a litany of curses fall from her mouth. 

Azzi bites her lip, raising her eyebrows in mock exasperation, “in front of my kid? Seriously Bueckers?”

Paige winces, ready to apologize until Stephanie begins to babble “B-buecks,” she giggles, clapping her hands, unaware of how the two adults in her vicinity both freeze, “Buecks. Buecks. Buecks.”

“Yeah sweetheart,” tears prickle against Paige’s waterline, “that’s me,” she looks up at Azzi whose own eyes are watery, “she said my name.”

“Yeah,” Azzi’s voice wobbles, “yeah she did. She’s- she’s a quick learner.”

“Just like her Mama,” Paige whispers, staring at Azzi and she wants to freeze them in this moment, like a still-motion picture she can hang up on her walls and keep with her forever. 

“Mama,” Stephanie burbles, eyes darting between the two women, “Mama. Buecks. Buecks. Mama.”

“You’re so smart Stephanie,” Paige whispers to the little girl, tickling her stomach. She looks up at Azzi with a smile only to find the brunette frowning at Paige’s hand. Confused Paige follows the line of sight until her own eyes catch onto the diamond that’s shining on her ring finger and she can feel her heart drop, “Az-”

“The media’s waiting for you Paige,” Azzi says, the lightness of a few seconds ago replaced with a hard edge. 

“Azzi,” Paige whispers again and she doesn’t know why her tone sounds pleading, doesn’t even know what she’d pleading for but she can feel something slip away from her again. 

“You probably want to go celebrate with your wife,” Azzi spits out the last word like it tastes bitter and sour at the same time, and it lands somewhere in between them, creating a wall that puts them on different sides. And Paige should let it go; she should pretend it’s just a normal sentence uttered without any malice, should pretend that she can no longer read the cadences of Azzi’s voice but instead of putting up a shield, she shoots an arrow. 

“You don’t get to say it like that,” Paige hisses. 

“I didn’t say it like any-”

“Yes you did and you don’t get to do that,” Paige presses, “not when you didn’t want to marry me.”

Azzi flinches. The words, soaked in mistakes of the past, hang like a dagger in between them, ready to sever the thin thread of cordiality that they have tried desperately to maintain. 

“You’re right,” Azzi says finally, her voice ice cold as she reaches for Stephanie, “I didn’t want to marry you,” the dagger twists, “so how about you give me my child back and go find the woman who did.”

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Take Care of You [9]

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Overall Warnings: slow burn, angst/comfort, power imbalance, age gap, possessive tendencies, eventual smut, #daddyissues, independent reader learns to let go and relax, emotionally constipated Joel Miller learns to be vulnerable; (more specific warnings to be added to individual chapters if necessary)

Chapter Word Count: 9,950

Mood board and borders by @saradika

Summary: You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?

[a/n: we back, baby. and we also barely edited so if you catch a typo don't hate me. also this was supposed to end in a different spot but then i got carried away in the middle so i had to split it 🥴]

Chapter Specific Warnings: angst, heartbreak, binge drinking to ease emotional turmoil, mild violence, mentions of blood and injury

09: LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU

"i still haven't figured out how to sit across from you, and not be madly in love with everything you do." ⏤ william c. hannon

Three years ago, Nima tried to convince you to go skydiving with her. She begged and she pleaded, but you told her ‘no’ on account of thinking she was a crazy person for wanting to jump out of a perfectly good plane. Which was hilarious now considering you were sitting beside Joel wanting to pull open the door and dive out. The irony was not lost on you.

The only reason you hadn’t gone scrambling for the door was because Joel was forced to take a work call a few minutes into the flight. He hadn’t moved away. Joel stayed right next to you with his arm behind you as he spoke, and every few moments he’d glance at you with a silent apology and shake his head. You’d reply with a tight lipped smile and go back to mindlessly scrolling through instagram. 

Unfortunately the mindlessly scrolling was not so mindless. Since leaving Vegas, you had a high pitch ringing in the back of your mind like an endless, echoing siren. Married. A married man. Joel was⏤ Your teeth were clenched together so hard you wondered if Joel could hear them grinding against one another. Yesterday had been filled with so much anxiety, and you had managed to work through it by the end of the night. Mostly. But this was worse. This was so much worse. 

Married?

Your throat suddenly felt tight, eyes stinging with unshed tears, and you hastily undid your seatbelt and stood. Joel glanced your way and you pointed to the back of the plane and mouthed the word ‘bathroom’ to him. He nodded with a soft smile, and you spun on your heel and practically sprinted to the tiny plane bathroom. You struggled to get the folding door shut and the stewardess who sat not far away stared at you in confusion. You gave her an awkward wave and finally got it latched. 

“Fuck.” You shoved your face in your hands, leaning against the wall, and held back your tears. You were confused and frustrated, and you couldn’t even find relief in a good cry because Joel would spot it in a heartbeat no matter how much you tried to put yourself back together. The thought of confronting him about this right now was your worst nightmare. You hadn’t had the time to process any of the wild thoughts pinging around your head yet.

Your mind was at war with itself. On one hand, maybe you were being stupid and naive. For the last month and a half you’ve spent nearly every day with Joel and on the days you weren’t actively seeing him the two of you would talk either over a call or through text. You knew Yo-yo for 24 hours. Sure, she seemed nice and sincere, but what if Rosalind sent her to screw with you? For all you knew, Yo-yo had cruel intentions and was trying to drive a wedge between you and Joel. By taking her word you’d be playing right into that trap. What she said about the other sugar baby and about Joel being married? Maybe it was all fake and you’ve been stressing for no reason.

On the other hand, Joel didn’t kiss you. He didn’t kiss you because he wanted to ‘do right by you’. Joel asked for time. Was it because he needed to get a divorce? Worse. Was he married with absolutely no plans to get divorced and just buying time for something else? 

God, if you kept up this line of thought you were gonna vomit. Quickly, you turned to the sink to splash a little cold water on your face in hopes it would help you get your shit together for the next thirty minutes. Half an hour and you’d be on the ground. But then what? It would be a miracle if you kept it together for thirty minutes let alone any longer. 

You took in a long, slow breath and tried to clear your mind. When you felt steady enough, you stepped out of the bathroom. As tempting as it was to hide in there for the rest of the flight, it would probably be a red flag for Joel that something was wrong. You wandered back over to Joel and at your approach, and at the sight of you, he covered the bottom of his phone and whispered, “You alright?”

“Mhmm.” You nodded quickly and sat back down.

“I’m sorry. Jus’ another minute.” 

You waved your hands at him as nonchalantly as you could and he went back to his call. You leaned back in the seat, phone in hand, and Joel readjusted his arm on the back of the seat so he could settle his hand on your shoulder. As he always did, his thumb was tracing circles on your shoulder. An action you always loved, but now an intrusive thought slammed into you⏤ does he do this with his wife? The question was so startling, so sickening, that you couldn’t bite back the nausea that rolled through your body. You jumped up so fast you nearly stumbled over your feet, and you scrambled for the bathroom. 

Vaguely, you heard your name behind you, but you didn’t stop until you reached the toilet. You fell to your knees and threw up. The taste of acid in your mouth made you wince, but getting it all up did bring some relief. That relief was short lived though as you felt a large, warm hand settle on your back.

“Jesus, sugar.” He said in a soothing voice as he rubbed your back. “What’s goin’ on? Have you felt sick all mornin’?”

You spat into the toilet bowl, trying to get the taste of bile out of your mouth, before reaching out and flushing the toilet. You tried to stand, and Joel hooked his arm around you to help you up. He called out of the bathroom and a second later the stewardess brought in a cup of water and a ginger ale. Joel handed you the water and kept his hand rubbing up and down on your back.

“I’m⏤ I’m fine.” You shook your head and took a sip of water to swish and spit into the sink. “Really.”

“Obviously not.” Joel replied. “C’mon, let’s sit you down.”

“Joel…” You tried to argue, but he wasn’t hearing it. He kept an arm around you as he carefully led you back to the seat. He brought the bottle of ginger ale with you and the moment you finished the water he took the cup out of your hand to replace it with the soda. “I feel better now. It’s fine.”

“You’ve been off this mornin'. I was worried.” Joel lifted a hand to feel your forehead. It made sense that Joel picked up on your distress. He had always been so good at reading you. “You seemed fine when we first woke up. When exactly did you start feelin' sick?”

You took a sip of the ginger ale, “I…I don’t know. After breakfast maybe.” You lied. The sincerity in his eyes, the concern in his voice, it was both bringing you comfort and making you sick again all at once. You felt so stupid. Either you were freaking out over a lie a woman you barely knew told you or you were being tricked into feelings by a married man. Either way, you felt pathetic. “Your, um, your work call, Joel.”

Joel shook his head in response and didn’t even bother addressing the work call he stopped. He set a hand on the back of your neck and his thumb was lightly ghosting over your skin. You closed your eyes and took a slow breath in and out through your nose. “Tell me what I can do, sugar.”

“I⏤” You swallowed the lump in your throat. You forced your eyes open, finding Joel’s furrowed brow and worried gaze already on you, and it made you want to cry. You shook your head, “I, um, I think I just wanna lay down for a while. If that’s okay.”

“Course it’s okay.” He replied. 

The seat the two of you were sharing wasn’t long enough for you to lay down without laying your head on Joel’s lap. You planned on moving to the other couch seats to lay down, but Joel’s hand was still on the back of your neck and he lightly began to guide you down. Too tired to even try and move, you settled your head on his thigh and curled your body up onto the rest of the seat. 

In any other situation, this would be one of the most comfortable spots on Earth. Your head rested on his thick, firm thigh, and Joel’s hand traced where he could reach. Up and down your jawline and neck⏤ his thumb and forefinger would occasionally massage your earlobe. You tried to calm your racing thoughts. The truth was, you didn’t know the truth yet. It was a fact you kept repeating in your head in hopes it would numb the sharp pain of your worst fears, but those intrusive thoughts continued to pummel you.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl.” Joel murmured while his fingers dragged across your skin. “What a shitty way to end this weekend.” You hummed in agreement. This really was a shitty way to close out what started as one of the best weekends of your life.

Avoiding Joel made you realize how involved in your life he was. After landing in LA, Joel tried to drag you to a doctor and only conceded when you told him it was probably a 24 hour bug and you just wanted to sleep. He called you later that night to check in on you, and you managed to talk to him for a few minutes before lying about wanting to go to bed early. Come Monday morning, you went to work despite Joel texting you that you should stay home. Trying to focus at work was physically painful. Enough so that after the nightmare Monday had been, you left midway through the day today claiming to Henry that you didn’t feel well. It wasn’t even a full blown lie. You felt like shit.

Nima threw the folder of papers onto her desk and set her hands on her hips, “I’m gonna hit him with my car.”

“Please don’t.” You mumbled with your chin resting in your palm as you leaned on the other side of her desk. After leaving work, you came directly to Nima’s office. Going home and sitting on your couch, alone with your thoughts, would only make you ten times more miserable.

“No, actually, my car isn’t big enough. I’m gonna commandeer a bus and hit him with that.”

“I haven’t confirmed anything yet. For all I know, I’m being this pathetic over nothing.”

Nima snapped her hand up and pointed at you with a glare, “No. I will not have you shit talking yourself when the only person we should be shit talking is Joel Miller and his wife.”

You groaned and let your head fall to the desk. The words ‘Joel Miller and his wife’ made you viscerally ill. The time you spent not talking to Joel Monday night you spent stalking people on social media. You reached dead ends very quickly though since Joel didn’t have any social media whatsoever. The easiest solution was to just look Joel in the eyes and ask him for the truth, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You wanted to know the truth, but you were scared to actually seek it out. 

If you asked Joel for the truth, if you confronted him, then he’d give it to you.

What if the truth was something you didn’t want to hear?

“Alrighty, babe, real talk.” Nima said and you lifted your head, keeping your chin resting on the wood, and saw she had dropped down into her office chair. To meet your eye line, she held her chin on the desk across from you to mirror your position. “I can threaten and plot his demise all I want, but I know I’m not allowed to kill him until this is confirmed or denied.” She twisted her lips. “You deserve the truth.”

You pouted, “How am I supposed to ask him about this, Nima??”

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, “If you did ask… How sure are you that he’d answer truthfully?”

You pushed up and leaned back in the chair. That was a good question, and with anyone else it would probably be a real concern. However, you weren’t worried about that. You truly, deep down, believed that if you confronted Joel about this he would give you the truth. 

“I really think he would.” You answered. “Is that naive of me?”

“You know him better than I do.”

This entire situation made you question that. Did you know him? You knew he grew up in Austin. He had a younger brother, Tommy, and it was just them and his mom for most of his childhood. You knew he attended one year in college when his mom passed away⏤ cancer. Joel dropped out of college to take care of his brother and picked up a job in construction. That’s where he got his start. His first boss saw he had a knack for more than just the manual labor and trusted him with more and more until Joel was running sites for the man. At 27, Joel’s girlfriend of three months got pregnant. They planned to make it work, but she left when Sarah was two weeks old. You knew he adopted Ellie three years later. That he earned his bachelor’s degree in business at home through online classes while raising two young girls and working a full time job. That he started Miller Construction shortly after earning that degree, and it blew up from there.

You knew despite being a tough guy, he didn’t like horror movies.

You knew his favorite whiskey was Lagavulin⏤ neat.

The one thing you didn’t know was if he was married or not.

“I am going to suggest something,” Nima began, “And I want you to listen before you call me crazy.” You shot her confused look and she continued on. “I have this cousin.” You groaned and Nima chastised you to listen. It seemed like she had a cousin available for every situation that arose, and half the people she called cousin weren’t even technically related to her by blood. Anytime you asked her about it all she’d say was ‘Korean moms’ love to talk’, as if that clarified anything for you. “Seriously. He’s dating a private eye. With one text, we can get some answers.”

You shook your head, “Nima, that’s insane.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, hiring a private investigator is insane.” 

“Look, it’ll get us reliable answers.” Nima argued. “The truth.”

You rolled the idea around in your head. It was literally the epitome of paranoid absurdity, but you were wondering if that’s the point you were at. Would it be better to find out this way? That way when you finally did confront Joel you wouldn’t be blind sided by the answer. Hell, if the answer turned out to be ‘no, he isn’t married’ then you can chalk up the last few days as time wasted and move on with your life. That being said, it did seem like an invasion of Joel’s privacy. 

“That feels…” You paused, “Illegal?”

“It’s not illegal to hire a PI.” Nima countered then tilted her head. “I think. I’m not a lawyer, but people do it on TV all the time, right?”

“Well, that logic is foolproof.” 

“I’m not gonna do it if you tell me you don’t want to do it.” Nima said firmly. She crossed her arms and gave a small little shrug. “But you have to do something. Either this or just call him right now and tell him the two of you need to talk.” There was a protective sincerity in her eyes that felt like a security blanket being settled on your shoulders. “I don’t want to see you get more attached to this guy just to be hurt. I don’t want him to lie to you.”

You knew Nima only had your best interests in mind. Technically, Joel had given you no reason not to trust him. Half the time you thought on this topic you convinced yourself you were overreacting and being a pathetic, paranoid mess. Yo-yo, as nice and fun as she had been, was a virtual stranger to you. Her word shouldn’t trump Joel’s. You knew all of that, and you wanted to trust him. However, it felt like some broken part of you was looking for something to be wrong. Joel Miller was too good to be true. Why would someone like him be interested in someone like you? There had to be something else going on. According to your ex, you hadn’t even been worthy of him and Joel Miller was ten times the man he was. 

“Okay, do it.” You blurted and hated yourself for doing so.

Nima held your gaze for a second, but you pushed to stand and crossed her office to her private bathroom. You took one of the paper towels, dampening it, and set it on the back of your neck in a poor attempt to ground yourself. For a while longer, you just stood there in front of the sink. Not staring at yourself, but staring forward at a singular spot as your thoughts raced. You needed a positive thought. Just one would do, and you were prepared to drag it out of your thick skull kicking and screaming if necessary. 

“Everything is going to be okay.” You mumbled to yourself softly. 

The whispered words did nothing for your anxiety. However, the memory of him did. You found comfort looking back at the soft moments spent with Joel and let yourself fall down that rabbit hole. The temporary peace was nice, but it didn't last. Finding strength you didn’t know you had today, you splashed your face one more time and then left the bathroom.

Your eyes immediately landed on Nima who stared back with wide eyes. Nima spoke first, “What?”

“What?” You repeated. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, I thought you said something.” Nima flipped her phone over and settled her hand on top of it. You glanced from her face to her phone and back again. A look of misery flickered across her features. You tilted your head in question. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry.”

“Nima.” You crossed the room quickly. “Did they already text back??”

“No. Yes. Maybe?” Nima shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Nima.”

She twisted her lips and drummed her nails against the plastic case of her phone. You shot her another look and she blew out a sigh. “He sent me a response, but it’s like half an answer. Half a report. We should wait until he can⏤”

“What did he say?”

“Apparently, he’s working on a case for someone else right now and had a database right in front of him so all he had to do was type in⏤”

“Nima, please.” You blurted. It felt like your heart was caught in your throat. You couldn’t breathe and you didn't feel coherent enough to string together a thought. Her hesitance was an answer in and of itself. You rubbed your throat, your other arm wrapping around your torso in a poor attempt to hold yourself together, and gasped. “Just say it.”

“He’s married, babe.” Nima mumbled. You knew the words had been coming, but they still overwhelmed you. The air left your lungs as if someone had gut punched you and you fell back into the seat in front of her desk. “He said he’d send me the certificate when he could, but he has to finish this job first. I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I⏤”

Nima stopped herself from speaking as she came around her desk and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You sat in her embrace for as long as your shattering mind could endure and then shook your head, “I need a drink. Drinks. Plural.”

“It’s three in the afternoon, babe.” Nima mumbled in concern. You shot her a dry look and she offered you a tight lipped smile. “Drinks it is! Let’s go. We can go back to my place and⏤”

“No.” You pushed to stand. “I wanna go out.”

“Oh… kay. Where?”

“Anywhere.” You turned and began to leave.

Nima was scrambling to gather her belongings into her strawberry shaped purse before rushing out after you. “Just one drink though. I hate being the voice of reason, but we should limit ourselves to one drink.”

One drink turned into two which turned into three which turned into twelve.

By 6 PM, you were borderline wasted. It was by no means the best decision you’ve ever made, but you couldn’t classify it as your worst considering that, for the first time since leaving Vegas, you didn’t feel sad or defeated. No, those blue emotions had turned into a burning shade of red. You had finally found your anger and all it took was copious amounts of alcohol. 

“I mean, married?” You scoffed as you stood at the bar with Nima at your side. “That’s⏤ That’s illegal.” Nima nodded in agreement as she blindly tried to find the straw in her drink with her tongue. You reached out and pushed it toward her lips. “And worse than illegal! It’s fucking rude.”

“So rude.” Nima slurped at the last of her drink and all you could hear was the rattling of ice in her glass. She pulled away to slam the cup down and pointed at you⏤ her pink hair had been let down from the braid to messily rest around her shoulders. “You should get a new sugar daddy!” You stuck your tongue out in disgust and shook your head. “No! This is such a good idea.” Nima began to look around the bar. “Let’s find you a super hot, super not married sugar daddy.”

“I don’t want a new sugar daddy. I want another drink.” You leaned on the bar and waited for the bartender to look your way. Nima and you had bounced to a few bars. The two of you, back when you were sober, decided to start drinking in an area that had multiple bars all within walking distance. The one you were in now wasn’t familiar to you⏤ it wasn’t a place you and Nima had been to before. It was a bit too upscale for your liking. Sober you would not have been a fan. Drunk you? Loving it.

Nima was tapping on your shoulder rapidly and when you looked her way she was pointing across the bar to God knows who. “He looks like he wouldn’t marry someone without your permission.”

“That’s,” You shook your head, “not my situation.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head and looked back toward the bartender who was busy with a group of women further down the bar. The sound of vibrating vaguely filled the air and you leaned closer to Nima who immediately wrapped her arms around you in a hug. “You’re vibrating.”

“You’re vibrating.”

You found her purse and opened it so you could rifle through it. It dawned on you then that somewhere around bar two and drink five you had shoved your phone in her purse for safe keeping. When you finally managed to pull it out, Joel’s face was flashing on the screen and you yelped in surprise. You tossed the phone onto the bar and held your face between your hands.

“Oh, no. Oh, no, no.” You shook your head and the vibration stopped. Joel’s picture disappeared and was replaced with a notification of a missed call that joined the notification telling you that you had unread messages. Your eyes snapped to Nima who was trying to drink out of her empty cup again. “Joel.”

“Bastard man.” Nima edited.

“Dinner.” You grimaced. “At 7. I’m supposed to get dinner with Joel at 7. It’s 6:35.”

Nima shook her head and crunched the ice she had shoveled into her mouth, “Bastard man can go to dinner with his wife tonight.”

 You grimaced, “I hate all the words you just used.”

The bartender began to wander over and Nima turned to order more drinks. You picked up your phone and leaned against the bartop with your elbow. With a frown and furrowed brow, you opened your text messages. Every unread text was from Joel unsurprisingly. The first came in at 4:29 and it was a simple, ‘Hey sugar, I’m excited to see you tonight’. The next was almost exactly an hour later and it said, ‘Hope your day’s been alright. We still on for tonight?’. Finally, the most recent at 6:15, was just your name with a question mark.

You set the phone back down before the temptation to reply could overcome you. It only sat on the bartop for a second before it began to vibrate violently as another call came in. Joel’s face filled the screen and you felt a wave of sadness drag you under. The fact that you were mourning the lack of his presence to this degree was probably a sign you were doing this ‘sugar baby’ thing very wrong.

“Maybe I should answer it.” You voiced the thought aloud.

Nima caught it and gasped before slapping her hand on top of the still buzzing phone, “No, ma’am! You will not be doing that.” The bartender set two new drinks between the two of you. Nima pushed one in front of you and moved the straw to point directly at you. “Drink.”

You took a sip then spoke, “I don’t even know the whole story⏤” Nima pushed your face back to the straw so you took another long sip. “Maybe it’s a misunderstanding…” This time your lips found their way to the straw on their own accord and you took a sip that could be argued as dangerously long. “I need to talk to him. Confront him. Demand answers.”

“Yes. To all of that. Eventually.” Nima replied with a nod. She reached forward and bopped you on the nose with her finger. “But not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know one thing in life,” Nima held up the one finger she used to bop your nose, “You do not have serious conversations while drunk.”

You shook your head with a pout, “I thought you said you don’t like being the voice of reason.”

“If it means helping you, I’ll always lean toward reason, babe.” 

The two of you went back to drinking. Your vibrating phone stopped and a few seconds passed before a notification for a voicemail popped up. You turned to Nima, “Can I listen to it? That’s not talking. That’s listening.”

Nima chewed on her straw slowly before bobbing her head in an affirmative nod, “I shall allow it.”

You picked up the phone to listen to the message he left you.

‘Hey, sugar.’ Joel’s voice rumbled over the line and you felt your chest physically ache at the sound. You closed your eyes in annoyance with yourself. If you hadn’t fallen so hard, so fast for this man you wouldn’t be in this scenario to begin with. ‘Gotta say I’m a little worried. Haven’t heard from ya all day. Gimme a call when ya get this.’

You groaned and set your head down on the bar. Guilt gnawed at you. It felt childish of you to be ghosting him like this, and that wasn’t your typical go to move. You had enough respect for the people in your life to address them when needed rather than hide behind voicemail. With the guilt was a swirling vortex of anger. You were angry at Joel for not being up front with you. You were angry at Yo-Yo for being the one to plant the initial doubt that started all this. You were angry at yourself most of all. Angry that you felt guilt at all, angry that you had foolishly placed so much trust in a man you barely knew, angry that despite everything there was still a part of you that craved his presence. You missed his touch and his voice. You missed those burning brown eyes and the way his very glance could melt you into a puddle.

“You okay, babe?” Nima’s voice asked softly. You shook your head without lifting it. “I’m sorry. I can break his knee caps if you want?”

“What?” You lifted your gaze.

“What?” She replied innocently. 

The phone began to vibrate again startling you. He had just called so you didn’t expect him to call again, but then again you were supposed to be in your apartment waiting for him to pick you up for dinner. You pictured him standing at your door dressed up and holding a bouquet of flowers. Nausea rolled over you in waves, and you grabbed your mixed drink thinking it could cure your troubles.

A few minutes passed before another voicemail was left. You snatched your phone up and shoved it back into Nima’s purse so it would be out of your line of sight⏤ not even bothering to listen to the second voicemail. Tomorrow, you decided. Tomorrow you would confront Joel and have this difficult conversation. You both finished the drinks in front of you as the lively bar continued to thrive around you.

“Why is he married?” You asked suddenly. Nima must have known it wasn’t a question you expected an actual answer to as she stayed silent. You rested your face in your hands and sighed. With your eyes closed against your hands like this you began to feel dizzy. A sure sign that you should stop drinking. Nima rubbed your back soothingly and you dropped your hands to shoot her an appreciative glance. “You’re the best best friend a girl could ask for.”

“I know, babe. And you know what else I know?” Nima squished your cheeks together with a wide grin, “You deserve the universe in a gold hand basket, and any man who can’t see that or who would play games with your big, loving heart doesn’t deserve you.”

You laughed and Nima chuckled herself before letting go of your face to pick up her empty glass. Her tongue struggled to find the straw but once it did she tried to take a big gulp only to get drops and air. Nima pulled away from her straw and furrowed her brow, “Who finished my drink?”

With another laugh, you raised your hand to order two more drinks. At this point you’ve already had so much to drink, what would one more hurt? You knew the hangover tomorrow was going to be a bad one, but a part of you was looking forward to it. There would be no mourning Joel tomorrow if your head hurt too much to even think his name. 

Nima successfully managed to distract you again as she drunkenly delved into a story you weren’t quite following, but you enjoyed the way she told it. A low whistle interrupted the moment of peace the two of you had found. You glanced past Nima to see two men in business suits wandering over. Nothing about them stood out to you. One was brunet and the other blond, but they both looked like they never grew out of the frat lifestyle on a college campus.

“We saw you two pretty ladies from over there and wanted to come and offer you our company.” The blond greeted smugly.

Nima turned in her seat to face him and waved her hand at him while taking a long sip of her drink until the ice rattled in the glass. Then she pulled the straw out of her mouth to finally speak with a shake of her head, “Sorry, we don’t speak english.”

“You just said that in English.” The blond chuckled.

“Sorry, sorry.” Nima waved her hand once more. “I don’t understand your accent.”

You snickered under your breath while chewing on your straw. The brunet stepped forward to stand side by side with the other and shook his head, “No need to be a bitch. We just wanted to talk.”

“Oh, you haven’t even begun to see bitchy yet.” Nima pointed her glass in their direction⏤ a bit of ice sloshing out with the exaggerated movement. “I can show you bitchy.” She reached back to swat at your arm. “Tell them, babe.”

“She can.” You nodded in agreement.

The blond set a hand on his friend’s shoulder and tugged him back, “Let’s just go, man.”

The brunet reluctantly let himself get dragged away, but he continued to stare at you and Nima the entire time. Nima spun in her seat and scoffed, “Where was I before I was interrupted by douchebag one and douchebag two?”

“I’m not gonna lie,” You shrugged, “I have no idea.”

“I’ll pick a place then.” Nima said and jumped into the middle of her story. “So, there I was covered head to toe in honey.”

Same as before, you really couldn’t keep track of her tale but it amused you all the same. The two of you chatted for another minute or two before a new face came across the two of you again. Nima had bounced in her seat, excited, and it knocked her strawberry shaped purse to the floor. Your phone clattered out. Before you could climb off the bar stool to grab it, a man passing knelt down and scooped it up. In one tanned hand he grabbed the purse and in the other your phone. The phone’s screen lit up and you swallowed at the sight of the multiple missed messages all from the same person. 

“Oh.” The man cleared his throat and straightened his stance. He was handsome with a kind face. Dark hair, a bit on the longer side, was messily pushed back and it matched the scruff on his upper lip and chin. The man wore a pink button up shirt, all the buttons undone, over a white t-shirt. “I suppose this is yours, miss?”

You begun to reach out, “Thanks⏤”

“Hold it!” Nima pointed at the man making his dark, brown eyes widen. “State your intentions, sir!”

“To…return your purse?” He lifted up the strawberry bag.

Nima narrowed her eyes at him and snatched it away, “Likely story.”

“Thank you.” You reached out and he handed the phone over to you. A glance down revealed four missed calls, two unheard voicemails, and five texts. You winced at the sight and set your phone face down on the bar. You were surprised to see the man still standing by your stools. “You…” You narrowed your eyes at him. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Afraid not, ma’am.”

It was sitting on the tip of your tongue, but your foggy brain just couldn’t quite grasp it. Nima snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “I got it. He’s that guy.” You lifted an eyebrow at her words and she nodded frantically. “Yeah, he’s that actor! You play in that one show with, like, the zombies or whatever, right?”

“Not at all.” He laughed with a shake of his head. “I ain’t no actor.”

“Well then, I’m out of guesses.” Nima grumbled. She tilted her head, looking him up and down once more, “You seem nice enough. Got a pretty face. You rich? You wanna be a sugar daddy? She’s in the market.”

You rolled your eyes, “Nima.”

“You’re in the market for a sugar daddy?” The man asked in shock. You could hardly blame the man for his confusion and disbelief. This was hardly a normal bar conversation. “Really?”

“No. She’s just drunk.”

“Irrelevant.” Nima argued.

You chuckled then introduced yourself and Nima. The man paused for a beat before nodding and offering you his hand. “Nice to meet you both. My name is Tommy.” It took a second to click, but once the name finally wormed its way through your mind your eyes widened. Tommy chuckled and answered your unspoken question, “Yeah. I am.”

Nima glanced between you two with a frown, “Hold on, I’m not following. You are what? You’ll be her new sugar daddy?”

“No way in hell.” Tommy grinned. “If I even thought 'bout it, my brother’d skin me alive.”

The look on Nima’s face stayed confused until you swallowed the lump in your throat and finally spoke, “It’s… Nima, this is Joel’s brother.”

Her face remained frozen before morphing into one of shock. She gasped, almost comically, and pointed at him. “Oh, fuck.” Her eyebrows furrowed into a glare. “You son of a bitch, your brother is a son of a bitch!”

Tommy didn’t pay her outburst any mind, but his eyes darted back to you. “I asked my brother to come out drinkin' with me tonight, but he said ‘no’ cause he had a date with you.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “Funny I’m findin' you here without him.”

“That’s because your brother is too busy with his wife to be with my girl!”

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed in surprise and he glanced back to you, “He already told you about her?”

It was quite possibly the worst string of words you could have heard all day. Only in competition with Nima’s ‘He’s married, babe’. You felt nauseous and dizzy⏤ the breath stolen from you again. Nima was arguing with Tommy, you could hear her voice, but you couldn’t concretely understand a single word that was said. When you finally managed to get a handle on reality, you looked back to see things had fallen apart and more time than you realized had passed in your mental breakdown. 

The blond and brunet from earlier, in the suits, had come back and were somehow arguing with Tommy and Nima now. You suddenly began to regret the last two drinks you had. Maybe if you had gone with a couple glasses of water instead you’d be able to puzzle out exactly what was going on right now.

“Get the hell outta here. They ain’t interested.” Tommy snapped.

“Just curious as to why we weren’t good enough for these bitches and you were.” The brunet slurred his words. Tommy stood a step in front of Nima who had slid off her bar stool to stand in front of you with her hands on her hips. “What’s so special about you, bub?”

“Ugh. How about the two of you run off to the bathroom and jack each other off, huh? Then leave us the fuck alone.” Nima sneered.

“Shut your damn mouth!” 

The blond tried to push past Tommy toward Nima, but Tommy shoved him back immediately. He grabbed the guy by the collar. “You gonna charge at a woman like that? Fuckin' coward.” Tommy’s voice came out in a gravelly growl that reminded you so much of Joel that it was staggering. “You got a problem, you take it up with me.”

The next moment happened fast. The blond tried to swing out at Tommy so Tommy blocked it with his elbow before tackling the man to the ground. The brunet grabbed Nima and wrapped his arms around her. She howled in anger and squirmed in his arms trying to find purchase to hit him. The brunet spun so his back was to you and you slid off the stool. Without pause, without thought, you picked up your empty glass and smashed it to the back of the man’s head. He released Nima, crumpling to the ground with a groan, and any shred of a fight stopped⏤as did the entire bar.

Tommy was kneeling on the ground pinning the blond while Nima stood off to the side.

“Oh my God.” Nima squealed, amused.

“Oh my God.” Tommy blurted, impressed.

“Oh my God.” You gasped, shocked at your own action.

You were panting, damn near hyperventilating, as the brunet began to rise on shaky limbs. Other patrons nearby converged on the scene to help out and before you knew it you were being ushered off to the side where a few couches and seats sat in a lounge area. 

“You’re such a badass.” Nima gushed from beside you. "How’s your hand??”

“Hurts.” You mumbled and stared down at the white cloth wrapped around your hand. Bright red was beginning to seep through. The consequences of smashing glass against the back of someone’s skull. Police had shown up and you knew Tommy was across the room talking to them. But still, your eyes stayed glued on your hand. The cuts weren’t terrible but they stung something awful.

“Babe?” You finally looked up and met Nima’s concerned eyes. She nodded, “You alright?”

You shot her a small smile, “Yeah. Are you okay? I can’t believe he grabbed you.”

“I’m fine.” Nima peeked at your hand then stood. “I’m gonna see if this bar has a real first aid kit we can use. Be right back.”

She jumped up and jogged over to the bar. You sunk in your seat with a sigh and leaned your head against the back of the couch. There had been something very sobering about smashing the glass against that guy’s head. The adrenaline and pain cleared any lingering fog from your previous drinks right out of your head. It left room for you to think about Joel. Meeting his brother certainly didn’t help. Tommy clapped one of the officer’s on the shoulder with a smile and they went separate ways. You lifted your head when you heard his footsteps draw near.

“Well, I spoke to the police.” Tommy stuck his hands into his pockets. “You’re not gonna get in trouble for the, you know, the glass. Won’t have to go downtown with ‘em.” You breathed a sigh of relief. Tommy held your gaze for a few more seconds before scrunching his nose and bobbing his head toward you. “And Joel is, uh, on his way.”

You covered your face with your good hand and groaned, “Can I please just be arrested instead?”

“Sorry, no can do.” Tommy sat down beside you. “You know, I didn’t say it earlier, but it’s nice to finally meet you. Joel never shuts up about you.”

“Please. Don’t.” You blurted. “I can’t… I can’t talk about him right now.”

Tommy nodded, “Right. I, uh, when I called him we didn’t talk much.” He laced his fingers together and rested his arms on his knees. “I mentioned you were hurt and things kind of spiraled from there. That’s probably for the best though. I don’t wanna get in between a lover’s quarrel⏤”

“I’m not his lover.” You snapped, and you hated the way your voice cracked. You shook your head, “Not if he’s married. Not…” The adrenaline was beginning to wear off and you were exhausted to your very bones. “This is so fucked up. I never should've agreed to…

Tommy didn’t immediately reply. He sighed, “I don’t know you, and I don’t got the exact details of what’s going on right now, but… I’m glad you agreed.” He turned and met your gaze with a tight smile. “Joel’s been… He’s been better. Joel was in a rut for a long time. So long that I kind of forgot he was in one. For a while, that was just Joel.” Tommy’s smile grew as he chuckled. “But ever since the two of you met, it’s like this weight has been lifted from his shoulders. We’ve all noticed it, and we’re all thankful.”

  “He’s married.” You whispered. “And he didn’t tell me.”

Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, “I know, but it’s⏤ it’s not that simple.” He nervously chewed on his lower lip. “Can you just give him a chance to explain?” You flexed your hand and sucked in a sharp breath as pain lanced up your arm. “Consider it a favor for me.”

“A favor for you?” You snorted.

“Yeah. I kept you out of prison, remember?” Tommy joked.

You cracked a smile and Tommy’s smile widened in victory. Nima skipped back over and dropped into the seat on your other side. She pulled your hand into her lap and carefully unpeeled the cloth away. As Nima rewrapped your hand while Tommy criticized her technique and the two bickered over you. You couldn’t help but flex your hand when she finished.

“Come on, pinkie.” Tommy stood. “I’ll take you home.”

“Uh, I am not leaving my girl here alone.”

“Joel will be here soon.”

“Then I’m definitely not leaving her alone!”

You reached out to squeeze her wrist and gave her a reassuring nod, “I’ll be okay. Gotta talk to him eventually, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t have to be right now.” Nima argued. You pulled her into a hug to reassure her once again. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you had just smashed a glass against a guy’s head so the degree of your bad ideas couldn't possibly get worse. Nima sighed and stood up too. “Okay. You’re sure you’re fine?”

Tommy clapped his hands. “Joel’s a few minutes away. But we can stay until he gets here if you want.”

“No.” You shook your head. The thought of being alone for a minute was kind of nice. “You guys go.” Your eyes locked onto Nima. “If you’re okay with him driving you.” You glanced at Tommy. “No offense.”

He held his hands up in surrender and shrugged nonchalantly. Nima nodded, “We survived a bar brawl together. We’re bonded.” She grinned and pulled her strawberry purse around her shoulders. “Plus, worse comes to worse, I can stab him.”

“You can what now?” Tommy questioned.

“You’ve already offered me a ride. It’s too late to back out now.”

“Fine, pinkie.” Tommy waved her to follow. 

You watched them go and sunk in your seat. The sounds of the bar was decent background noise, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the noise in your head. You picked at the edges of the gauze wrapped around your hand. Your eyes felt heavy and if you weren’t careful you were going to pass out on this bar couch surrounded by strangers. It was the sound of a crash that startled you back into the moment, and when you looked up from your hand you realized the door had been thrown open hard enough to hit the wall. Joel stood in the doorway panicked and wild eyed. He wore a suit without the tie and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top.

You stayed silent, sinking further into your seat, and watched as Joel’s wide eyes scanned the room. His gaze finally landed on you, doing a double take, and when he realized where you were you saw his shoulders slump in relief. Joel jogged across the room until he was able to kneel down in front of you. Joel’s warm hands found your face, cupping it softly, as he sighed, “Sugar, what the hell is goin' on? Are you okay?” Joel’s eyes studied your face then glanced down at your hand. “Jesus, your hand. Tommy called me. Sugar, I⏤”

“I’m okay.” You whispered, throat growing tight, “I just wanna go home, Joel.”

Joel tensed and he nodded, “Yeah. Alright. Let’s get you home.”

The ride in the truck beside Joel may have been the most awkward and tense ride of your entire life. It was silent. The only sound coming from the road outside. Joel’s hands were white knuckled around the steering wheel. You assumed his tension had something to do with you ghosting him this evening. His truck pulled up outside your apartment complex and your alcohol soaked brain realized not only did you not have your keys but you also no longer had your phone. Both were sitting in Nima’s purse right now.

You opened the door fully prepared to sleep outside your apartment on the welcome mat like a lost dog, but Joel grasped you by the arm cautiously to hold you in place. “You got your key?” You twisted your lips knowing he wasn’t going to fall for a lie. “Where is your key?”

“With Nima.” You mumbled. “She has my phone too.”

Joel sighed and let go of you to instead grab the truck door and shut it. He buckled you back into the seat and began to drive once more. You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but none of the words would come out. You drowned in your indecision while picking at the bandage on your hand. Joel suddenly reached over and lightly pushed your hand away from the injury.

“Stop pickin' at it, sugar.”

“Where are we going?” You blurted.

Joel shifted in his seat, “My place.”

“I don’t wanna go to your place.” You mumbled.

“Don’t care.” Joel replied gruffly and you lifted your head to glare at his side profile. 

The tone of his voice stirred something inside you, and you felt the dormant anger start to reawaken. It had gotten buried under everything that happened, but now it was back full fledged. You sat up, “Take me back. I want to go home.”

“You don’t have your key.”

“I don’t care.” You snapped. “Take me home, Joel!”

“You’re comin' to my place where I know you can safely sleep it off, 'nd then tomorrow we’ll figure out how to get ya back into your apartment. Understood?”

You scoffed, “Don’t talk down to me. I’m not a child, Joel.”

“Oh, you’re not?” Joel scoffed. His tone was angry and frustrated. “Cause you’re sure as hell actin' like one.” He shot a glare in your direction before focusing back on the road. “Are you outta your goddamn mind?! Do you know how worried I was?” You crossed your arms and stared out the passenger window. “I don’ hear from you all day long. You disappear on me with no explanation 'nd then I get a call from my baby brother that you’ve been in a bar fight? And that you’re hurt?!” You stayed silent and Joel scoffed. “And now I get the silent treatment? Very mature.”

“You don’t want to argue with me on what’s mature, Joel.” You said, head whipping back to glare at him.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean??”

“You’re a hypocrite!”

“Excuse me?”

You scoffed, “It’s not very mature for a married man to pay a sugar baby for attention.” Joel hit the brakes and the seat belt caught you as the truck screeched to a stop. You glanced out the window to see his truck had reached a neighborhood and the streets were mostly void of other vehicles. When you turned back to Joel, you found him staring at you in a mix of shock and horror. You shook your head, “What was I, Joel? Some kind of midlife crisis?”

Pain could be seen through the horror, and he reached out to grab your wrist again. “No. No, that’s not…” Joel’s voice was hoarse and broken. He whispered your name. “Please. That’s not what this is.”

You tugged your arm away from his grip. “I don’t wanna talk about this right now, Joel. Either start driving again or I’m gonna get out.”

Joel kept his hands to himself as he slowly went back to driving. As if the awkward silence hadn’t been painful before it was downright agonizing now. You were pressing your thumb into the wounds of your palm just to try and keep from crying. Joel pulled into the driveway a few minutes later, and you couldn’t even get your brain to collect a single feature of the house in front of you. Joel jumped out of the truck and you stayed frozen. The passenger door opened but Joel didn’t move to pull you out. He held the top of the door frame and a foot rested on the running board so he could lean in just marginally.

“Sugar…”

“Don’t, Joel.” You said firmly. “Don’t.”

“Please just let me⏤”

“Are you married?”

Joel’s face crumpled in agony and he hung his head, “It’s… It’s not that simple. Just let me⏤”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You shrugged and tried to ignore the tears welling up in your eyes.

Joel looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he still refused to answer. You whispered his name. Finally, he lifted his gaze back to you and opened his mouth. His jaw hung open silently for a second before he could speak. “...Yes.”

You felt the tears lingering at the waterline drip down your cheeks and hastily began to wipe them away with your hands. Joel gasped and began to reach out but when you flinched he held back. He shook his head, “You’re bleedin'.”

The bandage around your hand was soaked with blood, probably from digging your thumb into the wounds, and when you felt your cheek with your fingertips they came back tinted red. You must have smeared it across your face. 

“Sugar, let me… let me take you inside.” Joel murmured. “Please. I know you’re… upset, 'nd you have every reason to hate me right now, but… just let me get you inside.” His hand reached out for you once more, but he stopped himself. “You can leave in the mornin', but for tonight just⏤ just let me take care of you. Please.”

You gave a small nod. It felt weak of you, but you reassured yourself that you had little to no other option. Your hand hurt, your head ached, you were exhausted to your very being, and deep down you were torn between wanting to yell and scream or curl into a ball and cry. Joel took a few steps back to allow you to climb down yourself, but when you wavered his arms shot out to try and steady you. Joel herded you toward the front door without actually touching you. 

Your eyebrows furrowed when you studied his front porch. The entire front of his house didn’t look like the typical rich LA style you were accustomed to seeing. In fact, his porch and front door reminded you of a quaint farmhouse. Joel unlocked his front door and held it open for you to walk in. Right inside the house, the foyer had an open style with a set of stairs pressed against the wall just up ahead. It opened straight into a large living room that evolved into a dining room with a matching open kitchen to the side. The entire back wall by the kitchen and dining area was made of glass but the back porch lights were off so you couldn’t see the view. 

Joel tossed his keys into a bowl sitting on an accent table against the wall right by the door. You glanced over to a little bench built into the wall on the other side beneath a set of bay windows. The rest of his furniture from what you could see was modern and plain. You were drunk off alcohol and misery, but your brain was still able to take the time to note that Joel’s furniture didn’t match what you imagined him to have.

“C’mon.” Joel motioned you up the stairs. He followed after you and when you reached the top of the stairs he pointed to the left. You stepped into the master bedroom and Joel slid in past you moving straight toward the master bath. While he rooted around for something, you glanced around his room. There was a king sized bed sitting in the middle of the room covered in dark green sheets. A window sat on either side of the bed. The wall to the right was where the bathroom door and the closet door sat, but on the left was a single loveseat pushed against the wall. All the furniture was dark brown including the large dresser against the wall by the door and the smaller bedside drawers on either side of the bed under the windows. You drifted toward one of the bedside drawers where a photo was propped up. It was of Joel and two young girls. Joel had shown you enough pictures of Sarah and Ellie for you to recognize them, but in this photo all three of them were significantly younger. 

The sound of a throat clearing made you look up to see Joel standing there with a first aid kit in hand. “Sit down for me?” You sat on the side of the bed and Joel sat beside you. He opened the kit then carefully unwrapped your hand. When he saw the three lines haphazardly cut into your palm he let out a soft hiss. “You hurtin' much?”

“It stings some.” You mumbled. He hummed in response and used an alcohol swab to clean up the cuts. Joel did so with soft touches and his eyes flickered to your features every second or so to check in on your status. You locked your jaw to bite back any sounds of pain that tried to slip out. 

“They look bad, but I don’ think they’ll need stitches.” Joel thought out loud. 

“Good.” You said. Joel grabbed some fresh gauze and began to wrap it around your hand. You studied his features as he focused so intently on the task at hand. His warm gaze was burned into your skin as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You had the urge to trace your fingers through the scruff along his jawline. When he finished, he lifted his gaze and his eyes locked with yours. The two of you stared at one another in tense silence. Pain and longing filled his brown eyes, and you wondered if it could somehow just be a reflection of your own. It made no sense for you to both be so miserable right now. “Where is she?”

Joel tensed, “What?”

“Where is your wife?” You asked more firmly. 

“Are you sure you wanna get into this tonight?”

“I just want answers, Joel.” You sighed. “I need something. My mind has been a mess since we left Vegas.” Joel’s face crumpled as he closed his eyes with a sigh. “Yo-yo told me I wasn’t your first sugar baby and then she said you were married to your first sugar baby.” The words were falling out like pouring water now. “And then Nima has a cousin who has a cousin who has a friend or something that was able to find your marriage certificate⏤”

Joel murmured your name in reverence and opened his eyes. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you from the start. That way there’d be no miscommunication or confusion. I meant to. But… I kept puttin' it off 'nd it got to the point where too much time had passed…” Joel hesitantly reached out for you and when you didn’t shy away he settled his hand on your arm. “I did have a sugar baby before you. It’s a… long story, but I am not married to her.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You didn’t marry her?”

“No. Absolutely not. She was… Like I said, it’s a long story.” Joel squeezed your arm. “One that I promise to tell you. In the mornin', when you’re not half drunk 'nd half hungover all at once.”

“Then who the hell are you married to, Joel?”

“I… I am technically still married to Celina.” Joel finally spat the words out. You shook your head in confusion. The name was foreign to you, but Joel heaved another sigh and added, “Sarah’s mom.”

taglist (closed):

@weddingfairy @bfences @jasminedragon @biwitchy @huffle-punk @shelbyteller @anoverwhelmingdin @aheadfullofsteverogers @stagerightlauren @basicoccult @boofy1998 @farintonorth @thepascalofus @amatis-gray @casa-boiardi @northernbluess @jettia @sapphicsoie @spidey-3 @hrtsforpascal @gingersince97 @sentients17 @bigboiseason123 @lunxramour @ktheunready @heyheyheygaypay @keepingupwiththeskywalkers @adoringanakin @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @cherriebat @whitewolfstar01 @alyssa121611 @asreadbyaj @painfullyandprettypoetic @cantobightcafe @str84pedro

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✨J.M. Masterlist✨

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part three

authors note: hi! its me again. i had some free time and most of this chapter was completed, sans gaps and editing, so i figured why not?

thank you everyone for all of the kind words, like im still so floored just how many people like the random shit that comes from my head!!!

also, some tags don't seem to work for some reason, like when i type it, the hyperlink doesn't appear so super sorry to those impacted by that!!!

warnings: angsttttt, language, suggestive content

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

word count: 4.2k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion

You were sixteen years old the first time you drank alcohol. Truly, a result of peer pressure. Alcohol never seemed as amazing as your friends tried to preach it to be, not with the amount of hair you’d held back while your friends retched their entire days consumption in toilet bowls. 

Just didn’t seem all that appealing.

And then it was homecoming, and your school won the game, qualifying them for state. The whole town was in celebration, but no one was as lit as the football team. And, of course, dating the quarterback at the time and as cheer captain, your presence was damn near a requirement. High school politics and all.

So, you, Amir, and your closest friends spent the night house hopping, partying at one place for a little while before moving on to the next. And at some point, at some stop, you’d been convinced to try a beer. Honestly, it was disgusting as fuck, but a small part of you didn’t want to be the one prude of your group, so you downed it. And then another. Followed by another. Which preceded one more. 

And by the end of the night, you truly were white girl wasted.

You thank God that you had good friends at the time who made sure you made it home safely, because you absolutely did black out. Amir did too, hence him not being the one responsible for your care.

When you woke up that morning, the first thing you did was dart to the bathroom where you emptied your guts. The second? Panic. You were terrified of your mother finding out that not only had you engaged in underage drinking, literally violating the damn law, but you’d gotten so wasted that you blacked out. It was incredibly stupid and highly dangerous. Your chest tightened and stomach coiled at how she would react if and when she realized what you’d done.

That was the most scared and nervous you’ve ever been in your entire life.

Well, up until now.

Because all you can focus, think, and obsess about is the fact that Joe will be in your state, in your town, in your damn apartment in a matter of hours. He’d text you in the middle of the night a screenshot of his flight information indicating an arrival time much earlier than you were hoping for. 

Dread swept over as you sent him a message asking if he would stay at the same hotel he usually used when visiting, not that it got much use. He typically stayed with you during his visits. But, you offered to meet him there instead, feeling more comfortable if you were out of this setting, not in your apartment that had some type of reminder of Callie in damn near every room.

It took longer than you liked for him to respond, and his answer only served to increase your anxiety and trigger some anger.

No. I’m coming to you.

That was it, no explanation to your follow up texts which you know he read cause bastard had his read receipts on. Just radio silence.

That pissed you off even more, because why the hell was he ignoring you? Wasn’t he about to come talk to you about something anyway?

Oh.

Your stomach tightens. Not knowing what the hell he wants is driving you insane. You know why you reached out to him, but why did he seem so keen on speaking to you? It’d been nearly five years, what could have happened to trigger this sudden desire to reconnect?

And why the hell did he respond so quickly to your initial message? Truthfully, you expected no response whatever, convinced that he’d probably changed numbers after his massive increase in fame. Or, for him to at least hit you with the ‘who is this’? But, he didn’t, he called you and immediately knew who you were.

A tiny gasp leaves your mouth. That must have meant he still had your number saved, the same way you still have his in your contact list.

You….you don’t know what to make of that, don’t know what to make of it at all.

“Mommy, why am I spending the night with Aunt Mariah?”

Callie’s soft voice temporarily eases you from your panic, granted it also makes you aware of how she’s clearly unhappy about this. You know why too. Sundays are always your ‘special days,’ where you spend the entire day together doing the most random of things from baking, to playing game, to random dance parties that sometimes result in neighbors politely asking you to keep the noise down. It’s a tradition, and this is the first time since starting said tradition that it won’t be happening. 

Closing up her drawer where you were just digging for some pajamas for her, you move to sit next to her on her bed. Her head is down as she plays with the stuffed animal in her arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I know this is our day, but mommy just has some business she has to take care of.”

She keeps her head down, voice low. “Can’t you do it tomorrow?

Fuck. You hate disappointing her. “I wish, baby, but it can’t wait.” More like he won’t wait. You’re not sure what you would have proposed regarding a time to discuss, well, Callie, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the next damn day. “Hey, how about this? Why don’t you and I stay home tomorrow and have a special special day on Monday?”

At that, her head lifts, eyes sparkling with renewed excitement. “Really?”

“Yup. Mommy can take some time off, and you can miss a day of school. It won’t kill us.” You rarely ever take time off as it is, mostly because a teacher’s salary isn’t anything to write home about. You have to work your ass off to keep a roof over your and Callie’s head. But also….you’re not even sure what frame of mind you’re going to be in following this meeting with Joe, so better safe than sorry. “But only if we can watch The Lion King first.”

Clearly pleased with this compromise, she offers you her pink finger. “Deal!”

You two seal the deal with a pinky swear as you hold her into your side and sigh heavily. You wish that you two could stay like this forever. “I love you, Callie. Okay? Always remember that.”

________

“He’s what?”

You anxiously chew on the nasty ass protein bar Mariah offered you after you realized you’d barely had anything to eat today. It was a part of the latest dietary plan she was following, probably something she found from one of those weird ass dieting groups she was a member of on Facebook.

You loved Mariah, dearly, but as you two grew older, especially after having her baby boy, Micah, she’d become increasingly insecure about her body. Always the smaller, thinner, more athletic of the two, you knew that she struggled with how much weight she’d put on over the years, especially when her plan to drop the baby weight didn’t pan out. You're not sure she’s lost any of it, to be honest. 

It wasn’t even a massive weight gain, and truthfully, you thought curves suited her well. But, it didn’t matter what you thought. What mattered was how she felt, which wasn’t the best, despite your best efforts to build up her confidence.

“He’s coming into town,” you finally answer, debating if you should offer her the rest of this grass in bar form. Why the hell is it so damn grainy?

“Today? He’s coming into town today?” You nod. “I’m sorry, I must have missed a couple chapters.”

“More like volumes,” you murmurs, sourly. It’s a great opportunity for you to set aside the dirt bar and explain to her everything she’d missed, from Callie’s initial inquiry to your calling him, to him sending you an itinerary for a flight arriving in roughly three hours at this point.

“Holy shit,” she whispers, careful of her volume despite Micah and Callie being occupied in the living room watching Bluey. “What are you going to do? What are you going to say to him? This is….this is bad, girl.”

“You think I don’t know that?” You lay your head against her kitchen island and force yourself to take three, big, deep breaths. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

You hear her exhale. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m serious, Mo. I—” You lift your head and try your best not to cry. Tears won’t do anything to help the situation. “I don’t know what he wants, but it’s obvious he’s angry with me already, and I can’t imagine when I tell him about Callie that he’s gonna feel any better.”

“You think he’ll be upset?”

“Of course, he will.”

“No, not that. I mean, yeah definitely, about that. But, I mean, you know….that you kept her.” It takes a minute for you to process what she’s asking, and it’s a question you hadn’t thought about in some time.

You’d been so consumed about how upset he would probably be that you kept Callie hidden from him that you hadn’t considered the alternative. What if he was more upset she even existed in the first place?

The thought alone takes you to a dark place. Feelings of rejection and abandonment that you yourself experienced and probably haven’t fully processed. Feelings you swore with your life you’d always protect Callie from. 

And always will.

“Then he’ll continue to not be a part of her life.” Your voice is sound and resolute. Mariah also recognizes that all too familiar look of determination that fills your face. 

“But what will you tell her then?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.” A motto, a mantra, an oath. You’ve hit hard times before and always pulled through. This will be no different. Whatever's needed to keep your daughter from the trauma you experienced, you’ll do. No matter what.

Mariah knows better than to try to reason with you right now, not that there’s a ton of that needed. As a mother herself, she fully understands the intrinsic desire and borderline need to protect your child. She just also knows that you can be stubborn, and when you put your mind to something, nothing and no one can change it.

She just wonders how that’s going to bode over with whatever is about to go down.

You finish off the conversation with thanking her again for her last minute availability. You know you could have asked your mom as well, but she would have had questions, questions you don’t have the answers for nor the desire to explain just what’s happening.

Hell, you don’t even fully know what’s happening. 

As the time gets closer, you realize you need to get home and straighten up. Maybe vacuum or some shit. 

“Will you call me before I go to bed?”

“Of course, I will, mama.” You push back some of her hair, hating to see her sad again. She’s wearing that pout that you just realized is similar to Joe when he scowls. Shoving that from your head, you add, “and don’t forget about our big day tomorrow.”

That seems to win you a small smile, enough to make you feel less shitty about ditching her, even if it’s completely beyond your control. “It’s gonna be so much fun!”

“You bet your butt it is, kiddo!” You bring her in for another hug, holding her close and tight. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

“I love you too, mama.” 

Callie expressing her love for you is the soundtrack in your head as you drive home and even as you move around your apartment, dusting and vacuuming. You even clean the baseboard, something you’re sure you haven’t done since you first moved in when you were 22. 

You even make the controversial decision to leave up the photos of Callie or both you and Callie together in the living room and don’t really do much to move aside the indicators that a child lives here. Like her toy bucket near the TV or pink kiddy cups lined up near the kitchen sink. 

It doesn’t make much sense to you to hide these things when the sole reason you even reached out is to make him aware of why those things are there and who they belong to. You’ve stopped letting yourself try to figure out why he wants to speak to you or why he’s upset, realizing it was only making your anxiety ten times worse to the point where you felt like you were going to vomit.

Recognizing you have some time before he arrives, you decide to take a shower that’s much longer than necessary and will probably have you upset at yourself when you get your next water bill. 

But, it’s a nice distraction. Being fresh, clean, and moisturized is always a nice pick me up. Granted, you find it almost silly as you struggle to figure out what to wear. It’s Joe. Not Beyonce. Also, your outfit should be the last thing on your mind, as you eventually settle on a graphic shirt and some shorts. 

And realizing you have nothing else to do, you plop down on the sofa and wait. Wait for whatever the hell is about to happen once you open that door. Strangely enough, your anxiety seems to be settling. Granted, you wonder if that’s being replaced with denial, because you’re also starting to tell yourself that it won’t be that bad.

It may not be, but that’s not a good hill to die on. Preferred but not reliable. 

Needing another distraction, you scroll aimlessly through your Instagram, liking a few posts of friends, family, and former classmates from both high school and college. It’s interesting seeing how everyone ventured down different paths, some homemakers, some business execs, and of course the aspiring musicians aka unemployed. 

And then there was you, the small town teacher raising her secret love child of a WWE superstar in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. 

Your stomach twisting and turning tells you the anxiety is returning, but it doesn’t have as much time to heighten because the doorbell rings.

He’s here.

There’s this irritating yet quiet ringing in your ears and anchor on your chest, both of which make it harder to untangle your limbs and move off the sofa. It’s like watching yourself slowly make your way to the door, the tremble in your hand noticeable as you undo the lock and start to turn the knob. 

I love you too, mama.

Callie’s sweet, reassuring voice floods into your head providing the sweet relief needed to return from dissociation and snap back to reality. Eyes shutting, you take another deep breath and carefully swing the door open.

Truth be told, you weren’t quite sure what you expected to feel upon seeing Joe again, not sure what you should feel. This was a reunion, but only in name. Nothing about him being at your doorstep was warm and inviting. That much is obvious by his stoic, unreadable facial expression, which isn’t entirely out of character. Contrary and both similar to his current heel portrayal, Joe has always been more on the quiet side, not as easy to read. More open and warm once you get to know him.

You’d found that out firsthand.

Taking in his countenance, you can’t avoid observing the rest of him. He’s somehow even bigger than the last time you saw him in person, almost taking up your doorway, rippling muscles on full display in the plain, black fitted shirt he wears. His hair is pulled back as usual, clean line up, and beard fuller than you remembered him liking it. He’s aged, obviously, but well. Very well.

Heat rising to your cheeks, you step to the side, allowing him inside. You hate how you close your eyes as you inhale his scent.

He always did smell so damn good.

The physical distractions dissipate when he’s inside, the door locked, and it’s just the two of you. 

You notice almost immediately how he seems to be intent on keeping his back toward you, playing it off by taking in your apartment. Not that much, if anything, has changed. He can’t be that damn interested. 

It was painfully clear that Joe was already frustrated with you just by his texts, but his anger is even more palpable in person, borderline suffocating. 

Just what the hell did you do to upset him so much?

Clearing your throat and crossing your arms over, you decide that someone needs to say something because this silent shit is not working for you.

But then Joe angles his body, still not looking toward you but something else. And that’s when your anxiety starts up all over again.

You watch him, intently, as he walks over to the side table near the sofa, the one that has pictures on it. 

Pictures of Callie. 

He picks one up, and you’ve never been so still in your life. It’s torture, not seeing how he’s looking, unable to read his facials, clueless to what he must be thinking. He’s quiet for too long, so you decide to bite the bullet and say something. 

“I—”

“Is she mine?”

Waves. Heavy, plunging waves of emotions splash at you with a ferocity that nearly floors you. His question, so simple, isn’t what you expected to leave his mouth. It’s posed so quietly, lowly, emotion evident but not enough for you to know which one. Anger? Sadness? Confusion?

It stumps you, and for a second, you try to convince yourself that he doesn’t mean what you deep down know what he means. 

“What–what are you talking about?”

He curses quietly, and you hear him say your name before he asks again in a dangerously calm voice, “is she mine?”

You recognize this tone, the tone he takes when he’s trying his best to tame his temper, but there’s no guarantee that he can. And that in and of itself is not a good sign, Joe rarely ever gets mad. He’s irritatingly adept at maintaining his composure in all situations. 

Except this one.

You just want to take a nap, take a break from all of this. Everything seems to be happening so fast, too fast. It wasn’t even 24 hours ago that Callie first asked about her father, and now the man is standing in front of you asking you to confirm she is his daughter. You’re so confused about everything. How could he tell so easily? You always said and thought she favored him, but did she favor him enough for him to take one look at her and know she’s his daughter?

That doesn’t even seem possible nor plausible. 

You have so many questions, but there’s no need in delaying the inevitable.

Rip the Band-Aid off.

“Yes.” 

It’s at that moment he finally decides to turn around, and you can see the moment it happens, the moment the floodgate of emotions rush through him like a tsunami. He’s shocked. He’s confused. He’s angry.

“How did you find out?” Putting the pieces together is a slow progress, but one that’s progressing nonetheless. He clearly came here with that question prepared and ready to launch. He knew about Callie, knew when you texted him, knew when he decided to call. Knew before he even walked in and saw a picture of her.

He just needed you to confirm as such. 

That seems to be the wrong question, because anger is suddenly more prominent, both vocally and physically. “You’re seriously asking me how the fuck I found out I have a daughter?” Any attempt to control his anger is out the door, replaced with visceral emotions. “No, the real question is why the fuck you didn’t tell me I have a child?”

You’re not sure what it is, the emotionality of it all, the fact that you’re face to face with the man you’ve worked so hard over the years to get over, or even just the fact that he’s speaking to you this way. Maybe all of it. Regardless, you’re not about to just take it lying down. “First of all, watch your tone. You’re not going to talk to me any kind of way. Second of all, you are married, Joe. What was I supposed to do? Send you and your wife copies of the sonogram?”

“Don't put this on that,” he dismisses, swiftly and curtly. “Jadah has nothing to do with you telling me I'm a father. Don't you think I had a fucking right to know?”

“Of course you had a right.” He did. He does. You won’t deny him that, but it’s also not as cut and dry as he’s making it out to be. “But—”

“There’s no but, Y/N!” He cuts you off, and you have to take another deep breath. This time though, it’s not to lessen anxiety. It’s to calm your own anger that’s rising. Who the hell does he think he is to speak to you this way? Like you’re some damn child. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Are you going to actually listen to me, or are you just going to keep yelling? Cause I don’t respond to disrespect, Joe. You know this.”

He actually smiles, smiles at your words. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m disrespecting you? You keep my child from me, and I’m disrespecting you?” He scoffs and looks up at the ceiling, probably to settle himself. “Did you know when you ended things between us?"

The surprising questions just keep on rolling. “What?”

“I swear to God.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. “Did you know you were pregnant when you told me to leave? Is that why you did it? So I wouldn’t find out?”

This time, you’re the one scoffing, trying to rationalize how he could even think to ask you this. “Seriously, Joe? I told you why I ended things.”

“Yeah, well, you’re clearly not the most honest fucking person, so I don’t even know what to believe anymore.” 

You hate the fact that his words don’t further anger you but instead sadden you. You see how he’s looking at you, with a level of disdain and disgust. It’s such an unfamiliar experience, an unwanted one. “So, I’m a liar now?” It should have come out much stronger, firmer, showing him that you’re not putting up with his bullshit. Instead, it’s a damn near whisper.

He looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, like he doesn’t get what you’re not getting about this. “What do you call what you did?”

Your head is starting to hurt. This is going exactly how you feared it would go. 

Bad.

It’s all becoming too much, your voice weighed down with the emotions of it all. You feel like you’re on the verge of tears, and you hate that. You won’t let him see you cry. “We’re not….we’re not getting anywhere here, Joe. I think—”

“You should get a lawyer.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

He runs both hands over his face, the heaviness of this conversation clearly weighing on him as well. “We need to figure out some type of custody arrangement, and I don’t think us handling it with each other is a good idea—”

“Custody?” The room is starting to blur again, items moving wayward and sideways. The ringing in your ears is also returning. “What—you—you want to take her from me?” You need to sit down, your legs feeling like they’re ready to give out at any moment. Take her. He wants to take her from you. Unable to control yourself, you snap, “she doesn’t even know you!”

He matches your tone and volume precisely, clearly unwilling to back down. “Exactly, I’m her father, and she doesn’t know me because of you!”

You can barely believe the words coming out his mouth, incapable of processing that he’s actually standing here threatening to take your child from you. This has gone from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. “So, you think taking her away from me is the way to get to know her?”

His volume levels down a bit, and you could have sworn you saw a glimpse of sympathy. “I don’t want to take her away from you, Y/N. I just can’t trust you to not keep her away from me.”

This is disastrous. You never could you have envisioned this conversation playing out the way it is. Desperate, you move over to him, needing him to see you, to hear you, really hear you. “You’re here now, aren’t you? Isn’t that enough?” 

His answer surprises you with its austerity. He’s so angry. “No, because it took almost five fucking years for you to call me in the first damn place.”

He moves away from you, obviously headed for the door. He has nothing else to say. Your head is throbbing, vision still murky, but you manage to rush past him, obstructing his leave. “Joe….wait.”

You’ve never felt so small, so desperate, so helpless in your life. It’s reminiscent of the last conversation you had with him five years prior, that same boulder on your chest, bigger now. Much bigger. 

“Please.” You’re not even trying to hold in the tears anymore. That’s not even important. Not in the slightest. This is your child.  “Please don’t take her away from me. She’s my baby, Joe. She—she’s never even been without me before.”

He looks at you, and you can see it now. Finally see it. Finally see past all of the hurtful threats, the dismissiveness, the refusal to hear you out. He’s not angry. He’s hurt. “And she’s never been with me.” He moves past you, but not before one last statement. “Maybe now you’ll know how I feel.”

________

just curious, ya'll think joe trippin? personally, i'm team callie cause both reader and joe are wrong in one way or another but im also biased so ignore me.

[wolvesroampastelgalaxies]

Edit: All chapters up on Tumblr & ao3 :p

Okay, so I saaaaid 3 chapters. But like every good ending to a movie franchise, we going halfsies. ;P I will be dead honest, I have only seen the fist episode of FoP: ANW and have no desire to continue, because, as a 24 yo woman I should not feel this distraught about a cartoon. Also, I'm recalling things from the OG series by memory. So if things don't quite line up with canon or lore, just let me have the liberation that comes with fan fiction. Also, I know the show takes place ~20 years ahead, I like to think Timmy kept his fairies till he was 18 and so it has been 12 years since they have last been together.

Second Star To The Right And Straight On Home ⭐️ (Part 1)

Timmy had been working on this sales report for the first 3 hours of shift. His hands were cramping as his eyes strained at the screen. Maybe he needed glasses? Definitely needed to start taking magnesium supplements. Was he really getting that old? It wasn’t like he had done much in his life to feel old at 30. That was another thought, he hadn’t done much of anything. He’d been at this job for nearly three years, maybe a handful of failed dates, and spent his free time napping on the couch after eating room temperature pizza. 

  What am I doing?

  Introspection always vined its way like poison ivy through the ridges of his brain when left with his own thoughts.  

  I need fresh air, maybe take a walk, go grab a drink this weekend, anything to break up the monotony.

  Monotony: he never used that word. The world was starting to bleed into the black and white screen he worked with, smearing into something gray. This was torture, working under florescents when there was real sunlight. His cubicle was near the back of the office and closest to the windows. It magnified his gloominess by teasing the bright colors of the outside. He frequently cast glances to see streams of sun peeking through tree leaves. Most times, there was a finch sized bird sitting on the closer branches. Timmy noticed it the first time when, strangely, he was feeling watched. Or maybe he was desperate for attention. 

  Lately, when he’d go to check on the little bird, it was missing, leaving him discontent. It was a strange color, akin to lavender or periwinkle. No amount of Google searches revealed the species. It wasn’t uncommon for Cosmo and Wanda to take animal forms. Green and pink dogs were definitely harder to explain. There were no strange looks when they were pins on his backpack or- 

  Wait. 

  Timmy’s brows furrow and he moves his hands to grip the arms of his chair, sitting up straighter. Though he was looking outside, all focus was on whatever was unfurling in his head. 

  Cosmo and Wanda .... did I ever have dogs? No. Definitely not a green one. I had fish, it's a wonder they stayed alive for so long. 

  Why did he think of those names? Why could he picture personified versions of everyday objects? Always the same color. Green and pink. Pink and green. Because he knew them. He knew they weren't pins on a backpack or an .... umbrella? 

  They were my fish. Right? But they were also people. No, that’s not quite right either. 

  They were his fairies. And he remembers skydiving. He’s never been skydiving. But how does he know the sting of wind on his face?  And why was his parachute talking? Timmy nearly knocks over his chair as he gets to his feet, heart rate increasing like the one and only time he went to the gym. A co-worker catches the sudden movement, sensing a source of panic. 

    “Yo, Turner, you good man?”

  Timmy barely registers the words and makes a noise in the back of his throat as a reply.

    “I’vegottogo.” He tumbles out, snatching his car keys and phone from beneath the desk. 

  He has to find that fishbowl. 

💫💫💫

    The house had been shut up since his parents left on their yearlong Winnebago journey. Outside of Facebook posts and a few messages he rarely spoke to them. They were never really the attentive type. At least not to their son. Timmy has a hard time getting the door open. Images and dialogue clog up his concentration. It’s like their occurring in the moment and yet he’s recalling them from the past at the same time 

  Wishing for Christmas every day? Really immature Timmy.

  ‘We’re two halves of a whole idiot!’

  Wanting to be a girl for the day was a bad idea from the start. What was I thinking? Even if Trixie Tang was hot. Wanda did warn me though.

  'This bike stinks. I need one that’s cool as I am!’ 'This bike is as cool as you are!’

  'Did I really wish to be in the internet? Oh dear God I’m so happy it wasn’t the modern-day web.

  'And here's Wanda with the news: Vicky 's going to kill you when she finds out what you're up to!’

  His head pounds from the jumbled jargon he once knew as it takes meaning again. No wonder he felt so bored with his life now. He had fairies and dumb wishes with dumb, sometimes disastrous outcomes as a kid. Cosmo and Wanda were his fairies! There was a whole world of fairies, anti-fairies, and pixies and magic!  And there was a whole book of rules, all of them he sees himself breaking. As well as being the source of new ones.

  When the keys finally make it into the doorknob and he throws it open, not bothering to retrieve them or close the door. After he had moved out, his parents didn't do anything with his stuff. Just shoved boxes and the miscellaneous in as they needed. Everything was mostly in the same spot. Including the fishbowl.  

  It was right where it should be on his nightstand. Timmy went to reach for it but pulled back, staring intently. Dust had covered the glass surface, and he was afraid that disturbing any of it might cease the onslaught of memories. He wanted these memories, he wanted to know his life hadn’t been useless. That there were people who wanted the best for him and didn’t abandon him when there was a stupid decision to be made. Knowing that two tiny fairies said they cared for him. 

  His heart was pulsing hot bolts of pain at the thought of having lost them in the first place. At wondering why his god-parents left him and where they were now. 

  After a long moment, he tentatively reached out, bringing it closer, letting clips of childhood reflect off the glass. It was barely big enough for one guppy, much less three goldfish. Three. There had been three.   

  There was no cringe or embarrassment attached to this wish. In fact he remembered being the happiest he’d ever been in his life. It has been him and his god-parents for a long time, and he never thought it could get better. It was an overwhelming feeling of love that encompassed past and present. Cosmo and Wanda for once hadn’t warned him of the repercussions, despite them being epoch-making; they all knew it was so worth it. 

  Sadness has such a way of tainting things. It crept unnoticed as another memory took place. It was in this room. He felt a tight squeeze around his arm and saw Cosmo’s face pressed into his shoulder, muffling sobs, his dramatics matching the situation for once. A light kiss pressed itself into his temple as Wanda patted down his hair. Tiny hands pulled at his shirt and tears stained more than his clothes. Then there was nothing. Like it was all a dream that faded with the night and the sun was rising a now dull dawn.

  Timmy rubbed at the dust with his thumb, smearing a tear across it. He remembered the third one. His voice choked on something bitter as he saw through the eyes of his younger self, hugging the baby fairy when it all went away. 

    “Oh Poof, I - I’m so sorry.”

    “Don’t be. And it’s Peri now.”  

          💫 💫 💫

  Was that really the first thing to say after 12 years? The strain in his own voice prevented what Peri thought might be condescending. Call it intuition or an inference, but he knew Timmy would come back here. After Dev granted his wish, he sat there dumb struck until the kid asked him what happened next. Peri had pictured the reunion with so many different outcomes that, for a moment, he was scared of ‘next.’ Timmy was all the way back in Dimmesdale, across the country, though that was no problem with a little magic. Magic however, could be independent if left without clear boundaries. Peri had no idea how this wish would work out. Would it be instant? Would it come back in pieces? Would it work at all? He was sure he found a loop-hole. He could recall several times his magic went against Da Rules without the intention, and as dangerous as it was, this was his fail safe. 

  This was Peri’s first time shapeshifting into his human form that was not directly from his normal one. His little finch self has flown through the cracked window, its symbolism lost on him.  A human body felt clumsy, but it seemed like the right choice. What if he hadn’t remembered they were fairies yet? Granted, he was still trying to figure out the wings and crown, it was difficult to hide the markers of his true self.

  It would not have mattered if Poof appeared as a fairy or disguised as human, Timmy could see Cosmo and Wanda in him. He had just been a year or two out of his beach-ball stage when Timmy had turned 18, and the then young kid was already resembling his parents. Now, Timmy was struck with the resemblance to his god-parents. His little Poof had Cosmo’s smile and Wanda’s hair, but his eyes were uniquely his own and easily the most identifiable. Timmy had seen those lavender eyes glitter as they first took in the world. He hated anyone or anything that turned those eyes into blank spaces all this time.

  Peri might not have been going by his government name, but he made a noise akin to it when Timmy pounced on him. Petite as he was, something he got from his father (well, before retirement), he felt enveloped by the embrace. Even as a human, Peri was slight and though Timmy was no body-builder, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. The differences didn’t register as he felt the warmth of Timmy’s near crushing hold. His body recalled the last time they were like this, when it was goodbye. As his mind caught up to the haptic memory, the contrast between then and now made him break.

  My brother remembers!

 Relief was meant to be calming, coming out from a storm unharmed, but for them it was a tsunami. For all the bravado and charisma he showcased, over a decade of longing revealed itself. Timmy wasn’t much taller but it was enough so he could hide his face in his brother’s neck, for once not holding back the tears. He felt the human’s cheek press against the side of his head and it was the most contact either had in a time they had stopped counting. Timmy couldn’t believe this, he never wanted to let go, never wanted to forget a single second of this. How could any magic replace this?

  The moment could not bridge the years apart had they stayed this way for twice as long. Timmy had to force himself to push Peri back by his shoulders, one hand staying there and the other pressed against the back of his head to get a better look. If he still had them, he’d wish for the tears to stop so he could see properly.

    “Oh my God. Poof, look at you! You grew up! How-how could I have missed this?” He hiccuped.

   Peri didn’t bother to correct him, the name was childish but they had both been children when Timmy named him and if anyone had a pass to say it, it was his big brother.  The fairy took a shaky breath, attempting to blink away the kaleidoscopic effect of tears. 

    “Like -,” he has to step back, letting both of Timmy’s hands rest on his shoulders, or he might never stop crying, “Like I said, don’t be sorry.” He smiled pitifully. They could fix it now

    “We used to watch - oh what was that show? Sleazy and Cheezy! And you about got me killed!” He laughed, wanting to recall as much as possible

    “And - and remember the time mom was so mad because you were teaching me to shape shift!”

    “Tree and bee do sound the same!”

    “Okay but, you definitely stretched it with the bird and rocket mix up!”

    “Hey, I wasn’t gonna let you take the fall. You were already falling in on our roof.” 

  Reluctantly, Timmy let go of Peri’s narrow shoulders, the euphoria bottoming out. Peri saw the dimming of blue eyes, and an intense anxiety struck him. This time he was the one reaching out.

    “What’s wrong? 

  Timmy pulls away and moved to sit on the edge of his bed. A musty smell arose as the sheets crinkled under the weight. Peri watched as a perturbed look took form.

    “Why?” He finally says.

    “What do you mean ‘why’?”

    “I grew up, they wiped my brain. You could have lived eternity and forgotten about me.”

     Peri had a lightning-like shot of anger, “I could never forget about you. None of us could.”

     Timmy scoffed, “You’re telling me that immortal fairies, who have had countless god-kids throughout the centuries, would find me so important?”

     The fairy clenches his fist, stomping over to force the human to look at him. "You have no idea how hard they fought for you. Or how much of a hole you left for us. They haven't had a god-kid since you.” 

    “Really?” He concedes. It dissipates into something bitter and selfish when he sees Peri’s resolve falter.

    “Well -

    “I figured as much.”

    “No, you don’t understand.” He says the harshness leaving, replaced with empathy. He sits down next to Timmy. “It was very recent. And I was mad and couldn’t understand either, after all we went through.”

   “Thanks.” He says flatley. 

   “Will you just listen to me? When they met Hazel, they said it felt different from their time with you. Because they realized you meant more than being their god-kid. That it was the same feeling they have with me.”  

 They think of me like their son? 

  Timmy wills himself not to let go of another tear, but it has been an emotional day and having half your life re-written can be a little overwhelming.

    “Do they know, that, well, that I know ? ”

    Peri grins, a bit of debonair sneaking in, “Would you like to tell them?”

  He thinks of the first time he met his god-parents, at 10 it never crossed his mind to be skeptical because, hey, unlimited wishes. Now that he’s older, he realizes all the lessons he learned from them. And how he could get away with so much more with Cosmo and how Wanda would nag him like a mother. They were more his parents than his biological ones. 

    Timmy bumps his shoulder with Peri’s, “You realize we probably are going to be crying again?”

    “No doubt. Family reunions can be emotional.” He says with a curt nod, now wearing a full smile. 

  Family. His family. 

    “I gatta ask though, did you say your name was Peri?”   

[enderpearlll]

Yandere!Bob Velseb - My Favourite Employee. PT 2.

Um. So this is way longer than I expected so there’ll probably be a part three and four. Sorry not sorry. Can you also tell I don’t edit my work?

Gender-Neutral reader, but pet names such as darling, sweetie, sweetheart, and sweet pea are used.

TW/CW: Yandere content, stalking, descriptions of paranoia and anxiety, brief panic attacks, etc.

• That evening Bob walked you home, you felt sick to your stomach. The smell of Bobs cologne was soothing and stuck to your clothes even after you took off his jacket, but that didn't fully rid of the anxiety building in your stomach.

• Maybe it was the build up of stress…. Yeah, that was it. You decided to give up your shifts for the next three days, thinking that a break from work would be refreshing. But that night when you were getting ready for bed, you felt like you were being watched. Like someone was there with you... It definitely didn't help with the paranoia.

• It was a restless night, spent tossing and turning in hopes that no one was actually watching you and that it was all in your head. Luckily your coworkers were understanding, but when you called in the next morning Bob was distraught. He called you nonstop until you answered.

“What happened? Are you sick or somethin’ sweet pea?!” “Yeah, I asked someone else to take my shifts for a few days, hope you can understand…” “… Of course I do darlin’! Just take it easy, okay?” “Alright, thank you so much Bob!”

• You felt relieved that Bob understood your dilemma, and soon enough you calmed down and spent the whole day trying to relax. After a few hours of bliss, you felt that horrible feeling crawl down your neck again. You walked into the kitchen to grab a snack when you felt eyes on your back. With a shaky sigh, you scavenged through the kitchen for a snack to distract yourself. Turns out that it didn’t help and your kitchen was barren.

• You decided to get some fresh air to calm down, going for a walk to the grocery store. But even on the way there you felt like someone was following you. It didn’t help that you actually heard footsteps and eerie snapping. Like a camera shutter going off… So you practically ran the entire way. When you got to the store you felt soothed in the public eye. At least there was other people around so creeps wouldn’t dare to pull anything in a public place.

• But that only made you think harder. Should you call the police? Eventually you decided against it, seeing as it was only a gut feeling that you were going off of. And you didn’t want to know if someone was actually watching you, not at all. You’d rather live in blissful ignorance.

• You were at the snack isle, shoving a bunch of junk food into your basket. You were debating on whether or not you should buy actual food when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You nearly jumped out of your skin and quickly turned around to face the culprit. It was Bob! (Wait, wasn’t the restaurant still open—) He laughed at your jumpy attitude and pat your back, wiping a tear from his eye. “Woah there, sweetheart!” “Hah, sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see you here, Bob.”

• Bob chides you for your horrible food choices, poking fun at you. You felt safer with him around, walking around the grocery store as you both talked about life. You didn’t ask him why he was off work so early, deciding to focus on the task at hand. Eventually you leave with a cart full of groceries, to which Bob was happy to help you take home.

• You let him walk you home again, feeling much more comfortable walking back with him. You felt bad for making him carry almost all of the bags though, but Bob was persistent on carrying all of them. Of course you didn’t let him do it all by himself so he made you take the lightest bags. When you got home, Bob let himself in and helped you put everything away.

• You felt weirded out seeing your boss look so domestic, his cheeks a bright red as he hummed a tune while asking you where the cereal went. When all was said and done, Bob asked if you wanted something to eat. You politely declined and said that you could just order out, but Bob was appalled at the idea.

“What?! No way, I can’t have my darlin’ eating junk when you’re feeling sick! Don’t worry ‘bout nothin’, I won’t poison ya!” “… You make me burgers for lunch everyday.” “Well, that’s my cookin’! I don’t wanna have you eat something that I didn’t cook for ya myself.”

• Inevitably, you caved into his offer and you both began to make some chicken noodle soup. When you put on an apron, Bob began to drool and blush red hot. You blamed it on the heat in your house, chopping vegetables. Bob was doing most of the cooking, you measured out the ingredients since he wanted you to take it easy. (Even though it was your own kitchen—) “My lovely chef! Where would I be without ya?”

• You loved Bob’s cooking, so when it was time to eat you were impatient. And wow, was it worth all of the effort! You felt all warm and cozy sipping at the hot broth, giving compliments to the chef. Bob was flustered at your praise, cleaning up the kitchen as you ate to your hearts desire. “Aw, thanks darlin’. I’m happy to cook for ya any time!” “Wait, aren’t you going to eat too?” “O—Oh! Um, I’m not the biggest fan of chicken myself, heh.”

• Bob left after tidying up, wishing you a farewell as he trekked back into the cold. It was a chilly night, so before he left you gave him some gloves and his jacket. Bob was literally shaking at the notion, uttering a strangled thank you as you slid the gloves onto his fingers. (Mind you, he was a big guy so he didn’t exactly fit them.) Now that you were alone again, you didn’t feel as paranoid again. Having Bob around was a nice distraction.

• You settled down with a movie and some popcorn, calling your coworker to check up on them. Other than Bob, you grew rather close to them. “Hey!” “Oh, what’s up? How you feeling?” “I’m feeling way better now, I bumped into boss at the store today. He even cooked for me, ha.” “Oh, that’s where he was! Boss closed the restaurant early today after getting off the phone with someone, he was frantic. In the middle of lunch rush too!” “… What?” “Oh yeah, he even called in sick for the next few days too.”

• Guilt seeped into your skin, a familiar feeling of dread sinking in as you dropped your phone. Bob closed the restaurant for YOU?! “—Bro? Hello? Dude, you okay?” Your coworker asked, worried sick. You picked up the phone with shaking hands, curling into a tight ball. “I… Uh, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” “What—? *beep*”

• You pinched the bridge of your nose, your heart pounding out of your chest. It was probably a coincidence, you were definitely just imagining things. Bob would never close the restaurant unless it was an absolute emergency, so why would he..? You shook your head and turned off the TV, ready to head to bed before you kept yourself awake with your thoughts.

• As you hauled yourself into your room, you didn’t notice the splotches of steam left on your window, left behind from someone’s erratic breathing. As you brushed your teeth, you didn’t notice the sound of your window sliding open. Nor did you hear the sound of a camera shutter as you washed your face, trying to shake off the feeling of something watching you.

• Turns out he got too desperate, seeing as you walked out and were greeted with the silhouette of the devil-horned man. You screamed at the top of your lungs, watching as his impossibly wide grin drooped down. His chest heaved up and down as he wiped away his drool, heart beating out of his chest. You ran into your washroom and slammed the door behind you, rocking back and forth as you dialled the police station.

• This couldn’t be happening, no way. When someone picked up on the other end, you let tears of relief fall down your face. “Hello, police station—?” “T—There’s someone in my house, I think they broke in!” You sobbed into the speaker, cupping the phone close to your face. You quickly told them your address, desperately gasping for air. It was a few minutes before sirens blared through the streets, waking everyone up at 12 in the morning.

• You heard the door slam open, the sound of someone walking in echoed throughout the house. You waited until they reached your bedroom before clambering out of the washroom, running into a brown-haired officer. “Woah there, are you alright?” You could barely form a proper sentence, on the verge of a panic attack. Another officer came in the room, concern laced on his features. “There’s no one here, John. I think they ran.”

• You fell onto your knees, shaking and trembling on the cold floor. “I swear, someone was here! Please, you’ve got to believe me—! He was wearing a devil costume—“ The older officer named John kneeled down to your level, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, we believe you. Jack, let’s do one last search.” And they left you in the living room with a blanket they found, searching the house one last time.

• “There was no one to be found, but your bedroom window was wide open.” Jack said, watching as John inspected the lock on your door. John sighed and scratched his chin before checking the time. “Keep all of your doors and windows locked, we’ll keep an eye out. Call us if you have any more trouble.” He left you with those words of advice before him and Jack made their leave. None of what they said helped you at all, only serving to make you even more paranoid.

• You grabbed your phone from your pocket, checking the time. It was two in the morning, the cops had spent two hours searching your house for the intruder. You sighed and went to your contacts before clicking on the one that said “Boss.”. You bit your lips as you waited for the phone to ring, tears welling in your eyes. “…Hello? Sweet pea, what’s wrong? You okay?” “B—Bob, can you come over? Someone tried to break in a—and—!” You broke down sobbing, hearing frantic crashing and shuffling on the other side of the phone.

“Sit tight, I’m on my way sweetheart.”

(End of part two. Gotta love cliffhangers.)

[muzaktomyears]

George Harrison remained an enigma to many people, even those who were close to him. For a man who lectured passionately about karma and the meaning of existence, he seemed self-protective and closed off. Witty when called upon, there were also moments when he could be quite boorish. Perhaps it was because he was only twenty years old when the Beatles became a global sensation. That might not seem particularly young in today’s world of social media fame, but at the time, it was uncharted territory for the kind of adulation he was experiencing.

It was also difficult living in the shadow of Paul and John. In the beginning, they were openly dismissive of him. Paul said he always thought of George as a little brother. At first, John pretended not to know his name and sardonically referred to him as “that kid’’. Ironically, one of George’s compositions, Something, became the most covered song in the Beatles catalogue.

This interview was conducted at George Harrison’s palatial home, Friar Park, in Henley-on-Thames, on November 5, 1980. George was gracious but cool. He made a pot of tea in the drafty, vast kitchen of his 120-room estate, and spent two hours lecturing about Transcendental Meditation and the details of a limited edition of his autobiography, I Me Mine, which is certainly how he must have felt getting out on his own.

In 2000, George was diagnosed with oropharyngeal cancer. George died on November 29, 2001, in the company of his wife, Olivia; his son, Dhani; musician Ravi Shankar; and Hare Krishna devotees who chanted verses from the Bhagavad Gita. He was 58 years old and left nearly $100 million in his will. George told Olivia that he didn’t want to be remembered for being a Beatle, he wanted to be remembered for being a good gardener.

‘It was a transcendental experience that was beyond the mind’

On taking LSD

LSD was just such a violent, big experience. Before it I was totally ignorant, and afterward I knew I was totally ignorant and I was now on my way to having some sort of knowledge. I related it to the childhood experience of Catholicism and going to church on a Sunday and seeing all that phoney baloney. The moment I’d taken LSD, it just made me laugh because I understood it inside, just in a flash. I understood what the whole concept of God or religion was just by seeing it. I could see it in the grass in the trees.

It was an absolute truth; like a light going ching. I took three very powerful trips — big, very important — and then it left me a bit unsure because I had to try and figure something out. By that time I had gotten into Indian music and spent time in India, [and] there was so much about it that felt like home to me. Not the surface that you see — all this poverty and the flies and the shit everywhere — [it] went beyond all that. Smells in the atmosphere and the people’s attitude and the music, the food, the religion, everything about it … home.

‘I’d hear his voice wailing at five in the morning’

On the death of Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones

I liked Brian a lot, and later on, I realised it was probably because we were both Pisces. We both had similar natures. He was also similar in that he had a Keith and a Mick, whereas I had a John and a Paul. We both had that problem of two mighty egos to deal with in order just to try and survive. I was very susceptible to dope, and Brian [Jones] was even more susceptible. He’d come [to my house], and I’d just hear his voice wailing at like five in the morning: “George, Geeooorrgggeeee.” So I’d wake up, see what was going on, and I’d look out the window, and he’d be all white and just shattered walking around the garden — just looking for somewhere to be.

I would always meet him at that time of day and just try to calm him down. And I saw him a lot before he died in that sort of circumstance. The last time I saw him, I think, was when I’d been in hospital to have my tonsils out and he came to see me in hospital and the next week he was gone. He was like all of them who kicked the bucket — it was sad because there were too many pressures, really. Not just the pressure of being famous and having the press hounding you day and night and young fans hounding you day and night. Plus the drugs hounding you day and night.

‘F*** it — I could do better than that’

On his childhood inspiration, Cliff Richard

I remember being a kid of about twelve, dreaming of big motorboats and tropical islands and things which had nothing to do with Liverpool, which was dark and cold. I remember going to see Cliff Richard and thinking, f*** it — I could do better than that.

‘I think being Elvis was lonelier than being one of the Fab Four’

On fame — and Elvis Presley

We kept realising we were getting bigger and bigger until we all realised we couldn’t go anywhere —you couldn’t pick up a paper or turn on a radio or TV without seeing yourself. I mean, it became too much. We became trapped, and that’s why it had to end, is what I think … We were like monkeys in a cage. I think it was helped a bit by the fact that it was four of us, who shared the experience. I mean, there was more than four of us, there was Peter Brown and Brian Epstein, but there was only four of us who were actually the Fab Four — whereas Elvis had an entourage and maybe 15 guys, friends of his, but there was only one man having that experience of what it was like to be Elvis Presley. I think that was far lonelier than being one of the Fab Four because at least we could keep each other laughing or crying or whatever we did to each other. It was definitely an asset being in a group.

(source)

[vladajwrites]

Razor’s Edge

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five

Summary; Reader moves to Woodsboro for her senior year of high school. This story take place in the setting of the Scream 4 movie. This story is dedicated to all of the girls living through the current Rory Culkin revival. I love and see you. <3

Also available to be read on AO3 here

It's imperative for me to mention MAJOR trigger warnings for this story; blood, violence, sexual content, alcohol usage, and mentions of abusive situations. I will add and edit tw's as needed.

WC; 4146

Notes; Hello!

The next part should be out relatively soon. Not sure quite yet how many parts will be made and posted. Thank you for any and all support! It truly means the world to me.

(Not Beta Read)

It had been an astonishingly warm night when you returned to the town of Woodsboro. The air around you felt slick with familiar August humidity as you stepped out of the car that once belonged to your father. You stood for a moment, inhaling deeply as if attempting to swallow in the sight around you.

It had been nearly a decade since you had seen the quiet street where your aunt Irina resided. The moon was nearly full, casting a gold tinted glow that rivaled the street lamps near the surrounding homes. Memories of your childhood summers spent rolling in the grass of your aunt’s front yard as she sunbathed beside you flashed through your mind as you stared across the lawn.

A sad smile crept across your lips as you popped the trunk, compiling boxes in an unstable stack within your arms.

You suddenly felt a nervous sting in your stomach as you walked towards the door. Reality seemingly sinking in slowly. You had just turned eighteen only days prior. You dreamt of that birthday for years. It meant that you were now an adult and that in some ways; you were free. Free to leave home and go no contact with your parents. Your parents had plucked you from a town not far from Woodsboro and moved you across the country at the age of nine. They isolated you from the support of any sort of extended family or potential friends. Your mother and father psychically and emotionally tormented you and did so in such a calculating manner that they would never be caught or reprimanded.

You had tried to run away to your aunts once before at the age of fourteen, but your parents had the police bring you back to the home before you could cross the county’s boundary. It was even more difficult to keep in contact with your lovely aunt after that. Your parents monitored the communication between the two of you like a hawk. Your aunt still did what she could to support you and you both knew that when the time came, she would become your safe haven.

You weren’t sure how you’d make your escape, how you would go about hiding the things you were carefully packing away. But it seemed your parents had, by this point, completely checked out. It was as if they quietly understood that you’d all be better off if you parted ways. The final confirmation you needed that this was true was when your dad passed the title of the old car he had kept in the garage and worked on rebuilding over the past years to you just days before your birthday. He committed this action wordlessly, dropping the paperwork in front of your bedroom door to find. You said nothing in return. You knew what it all meant. An action like that from him would never come from a place of love or kindness.

It didn’t take you long after to finish gathering the last of your things. You debated on leaving your parents a note, debated the possibility of initiating a final conversation with them. Using your better judgment, you decided against it. They didn’t deserve anything from you, you knew you’d never receive the closure from them you deserved. Better to just try and forget it all.

You left in the night after hours of pacing your bedroom floor, waiting and listening anxiously until the house grew silent and you could assume your parents were fast asleep. You grabbed your bag containing your phone, wallet, and keys and made your way out to your car that sat adjacent to the curb in front of the Connecticut home that served as your personal hell for nearly a decade.

You started the engine, feeling the car shake as it warmed up. Your hands trembled as they gripped the steering wheel. You were ready, had to be.

Taking a single look back at your home, you felt your heart skip out of step as you caught your mother’s frame looking down at you from her second-story bedroom window. You took your foot off the gas as you met her eyes. You couldn’t have but certain, but by the way her sullen cheeks glinted in the dim night lighting, she appeared to be crying. Her mouth remained pierced and straight, her shoulders and head rigid and stiff in their usual form. Even if she truly were crying, you wouldn’t have been able to bring yourself to care. Too late and far too little, you thought. You snapped your head back to the road and pulled forward down the street, refusing to look back again.

You held your shoulders and back straight, attempting to keep your face stuck in shrewd control. You couldn’t explain the wet, sickly feeling that built and spilled from the corner of your eyes. Couldn’t stop it if you tried.

It wasn’t until you caught a glimpse of yourself in the rearview as you entered the highway that you realized you saw your mother’s face staring back at you. A sudden terrible thought crossed your mind. Could your parents have made you just as cruel and horrible as they were?

You took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that clung to your cold skin. You let your body slack slightly, relaxing the muscles in your face and shoulders. You glanced back up at your reflection once more. No, you thought, there was still a sense of softness in you. You would never be like them. You were going to heal, move forward.

A smile spread across your lips then as another car shot past you. This felt like the first real moment of your life. You reached over, digging in your bag for your phone. You only had one person to call. The phone rang twice before your aunt’s soft-spoken voice answered on the returning line. As if she could read your mind, she asked quietly, “Are you on your way?”

Your smile widened as you answered her, “Yes, yes! I’ll be there in just a few days. I have all my things. I’ll let you know if I run into any trouble.”

The line was silent, you held your breath as you waited for a response. You suddenly felt nervous in those quiet moments. You hadn’t told her that this would be the night you would be leaving. It had all happened so quickly.

Your aunt then exhaled a heavy sigh of relief and your smile returned once more.

“Be safe darling, I’ll speak to you soon. I love you.” Irina spoke.

“Okay, promise I will be. I love you too.” You replied before pressing the button to end the call.

The long drive passed in what now felt like an instant as you stood in Irina’s driveway, boxes in hand, looking up at what would become your new home.

Your aunt Irina greeted you on her front porch, promptly taking one of the small stacked boxes from your arms that hid your face. You sighed in relief at the lightened load.

“Ah dochka, come inside quickly.” Your aunt said over her shoulder as she propped the front door open with foot.

You nodded and followed her, placing the heavy boxes that contained the most important of your belongings on the entryway table beside the stairs. Your aunt carefully placed the box she held on top of the stack as well before turning to face you. You held your arms awkwardly at your side, your fingers twitched as you met your aunt’s gaze. She was all the natural beauty and poise that your mother -her older sister- had without the cutting and sunken look that came from years of contempt and cruelty. You hoped you favored your aunt in that way.

There was a moment of silence shared between the two of you as you took in the sight and presence of one another. Irina’s expression was filled with something indiscernible as she looked you over. You suddenly felt self-conscious in that moment. The last time she had seen you, you were only a child.

“I-“ You began to speak, unsure what your next words would be. You were promptly interrupted as Irina took you into her arms.

“Oh sweet girl, I’ve missed you so much.” Your aunt spoke softly. Her hand slid over your hair, holding your head closer to her own.

You tried your best to get a hold the overwhelming emotions building up inside you as you wrapped your arms tighter around her.

“Listen, don’t worry about any of it right now,” Irina pulled away, holding your shoulders in her hands. “I’ll show you to your bedroom. It’s late. We’ll catch up in all the days to come. As you’re ready, of course.”

She understood you so perfectly. It felt as though no time had passed between the two of you at all. You nodded, wiping away the single tear that slipped past your waterline. “Thank you.” You replied earnestly.

She showed you to your room, helping you carry your things up the stairs. The room was warm and soft, perfectly polished and eclectic, in the style that perfectly encapsulated Irina. You absolutely adored it all.

Your aunt didn’t linger as you swiftly unpacked the essentials you needed for the night. It was nearly reaching the hours of the early morning and you were both physically and mentally well exhausted. You’d let yourself begin to process it all in the morning. For now, you were safe, even happy. It was going to be alright.

The next morning had come and gone. Your aunt woke you with breakfast and the two of you exchanged small pleasantries. In the afternoon Irina stopped you as she caught you on the stairs, a laundry basket stuck to her hip. “We can go tomorrow to enroll you at the high school if you’d like. I have a gap in meetings around noon.”

You picked at your fingernails, tossing up the idea in your head. “It’s okay, I can run by the school on my own tomorrow. I imagine It shouldn’t take me very long.”

Irina furrowed her brow, nodding. “Oh okay then, just shoot me a text when you get everything sorted, will you?”

You smiled and nodded before the two of you resumed your paths apart.

Finding your way to the school the next morning wasn’t too difficult of a task to accomplish. Classes began in a week and to your relief, there were no students hanging near campus yet to be found. Aside from a few members of faculty, the school was entirely deserted.

It didn’t take you much time to locate the staff required to complete your enrollment. The secretary had even exclaimed she knew your aunt quite well. You supposed that everyone must be at least partially acquainted in this town, given its size.

You suddenly felt hesitant as you made your way across the parking lot back to your car. A silver sedan caught your eye as it sped past you. All four windows were rolled down and you could tell the car was full of people that looked just about your age. It seemed you had caught their attention too as you met the eyeline of the driver. She was too far away to make out much detail beyond her short cropped hair and frame.

The thought hadn’t yet occurred to you how difficult it would be to make new friends in a place where nearly everyone grew up with one another. You wished in that moment that you had made more of an effort as a child during your summers spent here to make any friends. But you had always been shy, horribly and painfully shy, as a child. It was just easier to play on your own. In all honesty, you weren’t sure how to make real close friends, let alone keep them.

Still, you shrugged, it would have made this whole transition much easier if you had at least one person near your age in Woodsboro who might have remembered your name.

You tried to keep your mind occupied in the days that followed. It wasn’t much of a hard task to follow. In the afternoon, you mainly kept to your bedroom, flipping mindlessly through a book you had been attempting to finish for the better part of a month. In the mornings you sat in the window bay, hot coffee in hand, remembering the neighborhood boys you used to watch ride by in circles on their bikes. Occasionally, your aunt invited you to eat lunch at the law firm she worked at in town. She’d tell you endlessly how quickly you’d adjust to things once the school year started, reminded you how the home was always open to guests, talked about the possible colleges you could apply to. It was a strange feeling to have someone show so much interest in the day-to-day doings of your life. You figured you’d learn to truly welcome and reciprocate the sentiment in time.

Your nerves had seemed kept safely under control until you began to turn into the Woodsboro High parking lot on the first day of class. Your fingers tapped the steering wheel in anticipation as you pulled into an open parking spot near the back of the lot. Placing the car in the park, you flipped your visor, giving yourself a once over before biting the bullet and getting the worst part of the day on with it. You scolded yourself for unknowingly chewing your lip nearly raw on the drive there, but other than that, you seemed just about alright.

Irina had been so excited to help you get ready for your first day. You knew she had always thought of you as her own daughter. She never had the opportunity to have any children of her own. You gladly let her fuss over your hair and clothing without once interjecting that the curling iron was burning your neck, and the constant outfit changes were exhausting your limited wardrobe. It gave you a sense of confidence, though, knowing that you at least looked your absolute best, regardless of how you felt inside.

You said a silent prayer as you approached the building’s front doors. Groups of students passed by in small droves. Each step felt like sinking through sludge as you noticed the quizzical looks from your new found peers that read ‘outsider.’ Even though your rational brain knew it couldn’t be true, it felt as though everyone in the halls was craning their heads to catch a glimpse. You dug your thumbnail into the palm of your hand as you dropped into an empty chair near the back of your first period homeroom class.

“There’s that new face.” A friendly female voice spoke beside you as she dropped her things on the desk to your right.

You turned to face her and were met by an inquiring smile and a familiar short blonde haircut. You immediately recognized her as the girl you had seen in the school parking lot the day you had registered.

You held out your hand, giving her your name.

She shook your hand in return, “Kirby.” She replied, giving you her own. As the two of you waited for the first bell to ring, you exchanged the usual first introduction sentiments. She introduced you to another girl who sat in the seat in front of you.

“Jill Roberts.” The new girl had stated more matter-of-factly.

“Good to meet you, Jill.” You replied in the same cadence. She gave you a half smile as she onced you over.

You spent the majority of your first few periods staring out of classroom windows or drawing endless little circles on your notebook as your teachers passed around syllabi and gave the same spiel on classroom expectation for the semester. You had learned so many names in just a few hours; you were already struggling to remember even just a handful. You assured yourself it wouldn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things. In a matter of days, most people would lose interest in the new girl thing and you’d slip comfortably by as a nameless face in the considerably smaller student body.

The bell rang for lunch and you were on your feet with your things thrown over your shoulder in a matter of seconds. You carefully squeezed your way through the buzzing hallway and made a direct line to your car, hoping to decompress and catch your breath for a moment.

Just as you planted your first foot on the paved parking lot, you heard your name called, no- shouted, from behind you.

‘Fuck,’ you mumbled to yourself, pivoting in place. It took a moment to locate the person who had called after you. A curly-haired boy awkwardly jogged to catch up, his long-haired counterpart feigned a cooler stepped approach behind him. You couldn’t remember an introduction with either of them.

The curly-haired boy noticing the confused look on your face interjected, halfway catching his breath, “We already got your name from Kirby.” He began, noticing the way your brows furrowed he quickly continued, “I’m Robbie, this is Charlie.” He motioned to the man that stood beside him.

You looked up between the pair, catching Charlie’s line of sight. His eyes dropped just as quickly to his shoes below him, kicking his laces at the ground.

“... Right.” you stated questioningly, dragging your eyes away from the frayed aglet on Charlie’s left shoe to look back up at Robbie.

“Right, yeah,” Robbie stumbled over his next words, “We run the film club. We meet every day after school.” You sucked in your bottom lip, trying to conceal your now amused half smile.

You noticed Charlie now glancing between you and Robbie with dread in his expression at the awkward mess Robbie was attempting to make his way through. Just before Charlie could begin to speak, Robbie rushed to spit out the point he was trying to get to.

“Well, we’d- I’d.” Robbie met Charlie’s eyes for a moment before continuing. “No- we’d love for you to, if you ‘d want to… You should come check it out. After school. Today.”

You rolled the idea over in your head for a moment. You didn’t really believe you belonged anywhere near a film club; you considered yourself an average movie-goer at best. It couldn’t necessarily hurt to go, either. If you really felt out of place, you could just not go back the next day. You squinted up at the pair. Neither of them could meet your eyes. Your aunt would be ecstatic to learn you’d even made an attempt to put yourself out there a bit more. The short contemplative silence hadn’t been a thought that had crossed your mind, but you could tell it was now starting to make them squirm.

“Come on dude, I told you she wouldn’t want to come.” Charlie broke the silence with a quiet plea to Robbie.

Charlie now turned back to face you, “I’m sorry, don’t stress about trying to make it.” The look of defeat in the pair’s expressions brought a pit of sudden guilt in your chest. Just as Charlie grabbed Robbie’s shoulder to drag him back inside the school, you interjected without a second thought.

“I’ll go. I’d love to go. Thank you for the invite.” You drug as much sincerity into your face as you could muster. Both boys stopped in their tracks, exclaiming in unison, “Really?”

Charlie’s eyebrow raised in suspecting confusion.

“Okay, cool! Classroom 120A, right after the last bell.” Robbie called over his shoulder, a wide grin plastered across his face.

You stood for a moment, one foot on the curb, watching the pair make their way back to school. Fixating on the way, Charlie ran his hand through the mess of his long hair.

“See, I told you dude, you just have to make the first move.” You could hear Robbie say, almost out of earshot now. His arm reached out to fall over Charlie’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. Charlie pushed the boy off him. You imagined him rolling his eyes as he brushed off his shoulder.

You laughed to yourself, turning on your heel, heading back to your car to spend the time left of lunch you had in much needed solitude.

The remainder of the school day passed by just about the same way the first half had. In your last class of the day, you took the time counting the heads of the students around you, trying to recount the names of each one you could remember. Once you made your way to the back corner of the room, you noticed Charlie staring down at his lap. He was crumpling, unfolding, then crumpling up the same piece of paper over and over again. You wondered what he could’ve written on that paper, if there was anything written on it at all.

You hadn’t realized how long you sat watching his repetitive movements until he looked up, catching your gaze. His eyes were piercing, deep set, his hair half-way covering the features of his face.

Your face burned hot as you quickly snapped your head back towards the whiteboard in the front of the room.

‘Idiot.’ You groaned in silence to yourself. Out of the very corner of your peripherals, you could feel his eyes still fixated on you from just a row behind. You picked at your nails anxiously, watching the minute hand spin on the classroom clock.

The last bell of the day rang out shortly after and you relaxed into your seat. You slowly gathered your things into your bag on the desk.

“Hey.” A familiar voice spoke beside you. You jumped in your seat at the quiet and sudden proximity. You looked up to meet Charlie’s gaze. He was messing with the loop on the strap of his backpack that rested on his left shoulder. “I can show you to the room we use for film club, if that’d be cool with you.”

You nodded your head up at him. “Yeah, that’s cool.” In all honesty, you had almost completely forgotten about even going.

“Cool.” He said, grabbing your bag off the desk and throwing it over his other shoulder. He began walking to the door, motioning over his shoulder for you to follow him.

You followed closely beside him as you both pushed your way through the hallways packed with students exiting the building. The would-be awkward silence between the pair of you was graciously filled by the loud chatter of people passing by.

“When’d you move back?” You barely caught Charlie’s question. His face was fixed on the wall in front of him.

“Back? I’m sorry, I’ve never lived here.” You replied, “I moved in with my aunt about a week ago.”

He looked over at you, studying your face for a second before turning away again. He nodded his head.

“What about you? How long have you lived here?” You asked, keeping your gaze directed forward as well.

“Born and raised.” He replied. You nodded in response as the two turned a corner. You could see a plaque that read 120A just ahead.

A trio of guys in football garb made their way past, headed in the opposite direction. The closest of the group carried a large bag of equipment at his side that nearly knocked your knee from under you as you crossed paths.

“Ouch,” you mumbled, missing a step. You were alright, truly fine after shaking it off a bit.

Charlie stopped in his tracks beside you. Turning to face the group. “Watch your shit, Anderson.” He called after them.

The carrier of the bag didn’t bother to stop walking, only looking over his shoulder to seemingly size Charlie up. He laughed, “Yeah, alright Walker. You’re not gonna do shit about it.”

You could nearly feel Charlie tense up beside you. Men and their silly egos.

“I’m alright, let’s go please.” You grabbed Charlie’s forearm and pulled him forward towards the room, letting go once you could feel his resistance lessen.

Once in the room, you let out a sigh and took a seat next to Kirby near the center of the room. The meeting, to your surprise, went by well. Charlie and Robbie both seemed much more sure of themselves when they were talking about things they were passionate about. Although you had to admit it was all pretty dorky, you’d never fault them for the devotion in their interests.

You were practically lost throughout the hourlong meeting, but you believed it wouldn’t be too much of a challenge to pick up on things, eventually. It was all sort of interesting, fun even.

You decided on the car ride home that day you’d make sure to attend the next one.

[the-apocrypha]

DVD Bonus Features: Fanfic Edition!

I have like 6k of cut scenes from my last fic (the fourth dimension) and many of them were not cut because they were bad, but because they weren't working with the overall story. Seems a shame to let them languish on Google docs. So, for anyone who might be interested - here's two scenes that didn't make the final cut!

<<<>>>

The hourglass is broken. 

The glass is intact, of course, as is the intricate brass housing Dream had spent so many hours bending and curving into symmetrical spirals. It is the spring plate that forms one of the bases—designed to depress slowly as the weight of sand gathers, thereby stretching a miniature steel coil beneath such that it begins to draw back a tiny gilt hammer. When the full weight of sand is upon it, the catch releases, and the hammer strikes the chime. 

Dream had left the mechanism skeletonized, proud of both the ingenuity and the beauty of the gears he had crafted. This is what allows him to see, today, that even though the sand piles upon the spring plate, the hammer remains stationary. The plate is not depressing.

He has migrated to the window for better light and turned the hourglass every which way. The symmetry of the hourglass means that an identical mechanism exists on the other side, for convenient comparison, and it is from this that Dream is hypothesizing that the issue is perhaps with the pinion gear. 

He will not know for certain until he attempts correction. 

And herein lies the problem, for in a masterful stroke of arrogance on his own part: 

The glass is intact. 

His only options now to access the mechanism are to melt the glass, or strategically break it apart, and in either case hope for both minimal damage to the contents and an aesthetically pleasing repair following the—

“What’s wrong, dove?” 

Or rather, what Hob actually says is hǒu is th' problem, culver?, because Dream is standing in the kitchen next to an abandoned bowl of muesli, because it is breakfast, because during breakfast they speak Middle English. Hob is before him, coffee in one hand, breakfast sandwich in the other. 

“It’s broken,” Dream replies. Is brokæ.

“It’s nearly eight,” Hob replies, eyebrows up. 

Dream abruptly sets the hourglass down. 

“So you noticed the Astrid Alarm was broken,” Hob says, as Dream swings the freezer door open and starts shifting ice packs and frozen pizzas about. “And then you didn’t set a different alarm. You didn’t eat your breakfast. You didn’t pack your bag.” 

“This is unhelpful.”

Hob goes quiet as Dream frantically stuffs notebooks into his backpack, then a water bottle (too light, probably empty), the peas, headphones, and a sweater from the back of a chair that is likely not his own. Three binder clips go into his pocket. All he needs is—

He turns to find Hob waiting, Dream’s wallet in one hand, sandwich in the other, meat now removed. 

Dream accepts both, and heads for the windowsill. 

“No kiss?” Hob complains.

The broken hourglass, too, goes into his bag. 

Dream doubles back, cups the side of Hob’s face more for the sake of injury prevention than tenderness, and presses a quick kiss of gratitude where it belongs. 

The hand on his wrist stays him. 

Hob’s fingers fall comfortably between the three watch bands that lie there, his thumb over Dream’s pulse point. 

“Tonight, five o’clock,” Hob reminds him. 

Dream holds up his other arm in reply, where a fourth watch glints golden. 

“Ah, perfect,” Hob says, beaming. “Hob Fob to the rescue.” 

It is one of the many great failures of Dream’s life, that this nickname has persisted. 

“Five,” Dream agrees, and pulls his hand free. “You will be wonderful.” 

“Best in my age group,” Hob agrees proudly, and raises his coffee mug just as Dream turns around to make for the door. The mug is a custom job from the internet a few years ago, chipped in both paint and porcelain, but the original black with white lettering can still be read: 

It does not belong to Hob. 

WORLD’S 

LEAST 

PUNCTUAL 

WATCHMAKER 

<<<>>>

(Originally there was an OC named Astrid that Dream would birdwatch with every morning, and Hob had a piano recital in the evening. Obviously these plot points went, and so the breakfast scene had to be rewritten.)

<<<>>>

A watch does not know the time it tells. 

It cannot feel the sun moving across the sky. It does not know the axis of the Earth, nor the ellipsis of its orbit. It does not reach into the fabric of the universe and pluck divine truth from the red-shift coefficient of the galaxies that hurtle through space as afterthought projectiles of the origin of existence. 

A watch begins with a mainspring—or perhaps a quartz crystal, or microscopic solar panels—but traditionally, a mainspring. This is where the potential energy is stored, to be released as the kinetic energy that will drive the gears to turn the escapement, which is what moves the hands of the watch forward, and would do so without rhythm or reason were it not for the staying hands of the balance wheel. 

The balance wheel is the best part of a watch. The most precise. The most expensive, for the precious gems encrusted upon it that almost entirely eliminate the enemy of constancy: friction. It is what decides the length of a second, for it is what checks the urgency of the marching army of gears that say go go go go go and instead says no. It says, stop. For one thousand milliseconds or one million microseconds or one trillion picoseconds, it holds the entire watch in perfect stillness. 

Then the second hand ticks over. The next interval begins. 

On, and on, and on, and on, it goes. 

<<<>>>

A watch does not know the time it tells. It is a mindless contraption, a work of metal and stone and glass, and it grinds inexorably forward with a steady tick, tick, tick, tick, tick that may at first listen sound like the drumbeats of progress. But listen closer. Listen carefully. 

It is not a ticking that you hear. It is one small gear, striking back against the machine, protesting, crying out again and again: wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

(I liked this little meditation on the nature of watches, but it's a few shades off from my central thesis, and in the end was not needed.)

And that's it! Alas, sometimes good pieces must be sacrificed in the name of a greater project.

[urf1lterr]

lovesick | pedro pascal [2]

"and on this night and in this light i think im falling, im falling for you."

next chapter: [3] previous chapter: [1] series masterlist

summary: in which a 1975-obsessed film student accidentally falls in love with an older man she can't have.

pairing: actor!pedro x intern!reader

genre: acting world!au, big age-gap!, strangers to friends- maybe lovers?? au | angst, mature, awkward, love- eventually

word count: 6.7k

status: in progress

author's note: this chapter was for fun- i have the 1975 on repeat so i had to lmao. i kinda wanna do a slow burn because i don't want to make anything happen so fast. and pedro was at the oscars a few hours ago so why not post another chapter for him :) not edited.

You hated working weekends.

Something about waking up extremely early on a day that was supposed to be your day off irks you. Why have a scheduled rest day if you're just going to be scheduled to come in? It made zero sense, especially since you were only given a two hour notice before while sleeping.

No pay, clothes, gifts could ever make you happy after being called in at 5am for a 7am shift-

"Venti iced white chocolate mocha with oat milk, vanilla sweet cold foam, caramel drizzle, and light ice as always," Pedro listed as he handed you the coffee.

"Oh my god, I think I love you," you blurted out, staring at the cup in awe.

"That was fast, I see now why you're single," Pedro replied, giving you the side eye. "And soon diabetic."

Rolling your eyes, you take a sip of the coffee before shaking your head. "Not like that, you moron," you scoffed as he glared at you. "I love coffee too much- and who says I'm single."

"Think of it as your reward for waking up to the call," he joked as you just stared at him annoyed. The one time you turn off your do not disturb and this happens. "Your loneliness says otherwise."

"I am not lonely!" you gasp as he shrugs. "I'll have you know I am dating-"

"If you dare say Matty Healy I will personally push you in a bush-," Pedro declares, stopping you as you try to interject. "-and won't help you back up."

Huffing, you cross your arms as he laughs at the sight of your defeat. He knows you too well considering the fact you only met two months ago.

In fact, these two months were probably the best ones you have had all year. Not only did you experience some awesome moments you're sure you'll never get to witness again, but you got along with a lot of special people.

What made things even better was the fact that you got along with your boss because who knows where you would've ended up if Finn was a total douche- which he wasn't. But he did have his moments where he took your kindness for weakness- like asking you to come in for shift on a Saturday.

One thing that definitely advanced would have to be your relationship with Pedro. Nearly best friends is what you two were typically called on a normal day on set by how close you've become.

The nearly part added because nothing could ever come between his relationship with Bella, or Bellie in his own words. And because Jules always made sure to tell the jokesters that she was not giving up her position just yet.

But when it came to work, Pedro was always there for you. Considering he's been in the industry since before you were even born, which he yelled at you once when you joked, he was the best support.

He would even ask you what you were assigned to do and tell you specifically what was wanted without you even asking- even finding ways to physically assist before being caught and sent back to his actual job.

There were also the constant times where he would spam you with iMessage game requests to 8 ball and ignore you after beating him three times in a row, claiming his phone died despite your messages being sent through.

The only thing that made today better was that he was here because who knows how boring the day would have been if you were spent hanging with the technicians who; in fact, did not appreciate the countless times you dropped a mic.

"Why didn't Jules get called in?" you questioned as he turned up the computer brightness you were using. "That girl never wakes up early but I kid you not, she was playing minecraft on her computer when I was leaving."

"I love minecraft," Pedro sighed.

"I do too, but Jules always sends the creepers to my house," you complain. "They always destroy my garden."

"I could only imagine the devastation in your eyes," he dramatically exhales as you nudge him. "But I think it's because you're more...attentive? Not saying that she isn't, but she sure loves to talk about Jersey Shore in between takes."

"She's been binge-watching all the seasons after work."

The conversation ended once he was caught again by one of the producers and lured out of the office you were in. Initially, he searched around the studio and found you to gift the coffee, but he stayed because he did not want to sit on the makeup chair for another round of a drastic look being applied to his face- especially if you weren't there to pester him.

As for you, once clocked in Finn managed to have you scan after emails as a way to apologize for the call in. Apparently, one of his assistants called out so he decided to use you as their replacement since he couldn't find the time to sit down in a cozy office and do so.

But you were totally not complaining.

That only lasted you about two hours before you were finished and terribly bored.

Throwing the empty cup of coffee in the trash, you decided to walk around in hopes of finding something better to do or else you would've fallen asleep on the desk.

You would've if you weren't scared of the thought of a director finding and; consequently, firing you.

Hearing a loud noise, you quickly averted your eyes where your ears were signaling where the noise came from. Lightly jogging behind a curtain, your eyes widened to a sight of a desk on its side and a man hovering over it.

"Joon?!" you exclaim, running over to find him lowly panting, trying to remain his coolness as you began inspecting him to find any injuries.

"I'm fine," he calmly replied, using his dimpled smile as a way to reassure this but you didn't believe him. That was a loud drop.

"Why in the world are you lifting a desk that surely isn't less than 30 pounds?" you glare as he chuckles at the fake anger you poorly tried displaying.

"One of the technicians asked me to bring it out."

"And did you forget that your back would disagree?"

He shuts his mouth for a second, loss for words at your comeback. "I couldn't say no," he shyly replied. "I didn't want to have to pull out my medical forms explaining why I can't lift a table."

Feeling your face sink, you helped him stand straight as he glanced down at the fallen table. "You should have called for help then- everybody would need help for a gigantic table like this."

He only nodded in response, making you feel bad. You felt like you were lecturing him, technically you were, but you didn't want to find out in the future the reason he stopped attending work was because he pulled his back again.

"I'll drag this out," you declare as he tried slapping you hands away from it.

"It's too heavy for you!" he argued.

"Which is why I said drag," you countered back, ignoring his pleas as you somehow managed to lift the table back to its standing positioning.

Walking around it, you bent your back as you began pushing it around the curtain as Joon followed your position, crouching next to you for the extra support.

If it wasn't for the film crew being around the floor, you were sure you would have passed out right then and there. But you couldn't let them know how weak you were.

"And that's how teamwork makes the dream work," you announce, causing Joon to giggle before giving you a high-five as the two of you stand up from your bent posture.

Joon was another person you got along with incredibly well. For one, you guys were the duo out of all the interns. Every job you had that included another person, he was always there.

There was also the many times the two of you, and Jules of course, would carpool together to get home. It turned out Joon was also friends with some of your college classmates so he was always the only person from work who joined you guys for the random nights of cheesy movies and boring games while eating takeout with your other friends.

Despite hanging out for so long, you felt dense when someone called him Namjoon one time, even turning your head around for this Namjoon, completely oblivious to the fact that Joon was connected to Namjoon.

To be fair, he never went by his full name claiming that his nickname sounded more 'chill,' or whatever that meant.

Other than that, you were sure he was your other best friend. Well, after Jules and maybe Pedro. They were probably on the same level if you had to arrange them- not that friends had to ranked.

"Are you ready for this afternoon?" Joon called out as the two of you walked off the stage back to the curtains.

"For what?"

He sent you a surprised look, scaring you because is there something crazy happening that you had to prepare for? "Do you have your phone?"

Patting your back pocket, you shook your head. "I think I left it in my bag. Why? I'm about to cry if you don't tell me," you impatiently whine.

"What kind of fan you are," he simply responds, causing you to widen you eyes.

Immediately jumping on him, you shake his shoulders repeatedly. "What is the 1975 doing?! You must tell me or I swear to the gods I will bust your kneecaps and make you crawl for help."

He bursts out laughing at your threatening begs, trying to calm down your jumps by grabbing your shoulders to hold you. "You're violent."

"And you'll need surgery if you don't hurry it up."

Tapping your shoulder to calm down, you slowly do so. "3 o'clock is when their tickets go on sale for their upcoming tour, one of the dates being in New York City."

You could have sworn you were about to faint if it weren't for Joon pulling out his phone to show you you still had time to mentally prepare for the combat you were about to enter.

That's what ticketmaster was, a war zone.

"How was I not aware of this?!" you cry out, internally panicking about what you were going to do. You can't miss out on this concert, you just had to see these British people in person in order for your life to be complete.

"They did just post the news half an hour ago," he admitted. "Good for you for not being addicted to your phone."

Scowling at him, he quickly closed his mouth as you went over all the things you needed to do to prepare. "Wait, can we go together? None of my guy friends like them."

If you weren't in your own world mentally planning how you were going to beat all these teenage girls online, you would have noticed Pedro walking up to the two to you. But you didn't because your mind couldn't stop thinking about Matty Healy singing 'She's American' because you were indeed American.

"Why does she look deranged?" Pedro questioned, standing a few feet away from you. "Oh no, did Matty Healy die?"

Glaring at him, you ignore his irrelevant comment and face back to Joon. "You and me, my place straight after work. Got it?"

He nods, already in game mode because he knows how bad the two of you need to witness this concert.

Pedro exchanged a crazed look between the two of you, assuming his own ideas as to what you meant. "You're having a party and didn't invite me?" he tried joking to understand the conversation a bit more.

"No time for fooling around, Pedro," you state, grabbing Joon by his arm and making your way back to the office to search for your phone. "We have important business to settle, see you around!"

He watched the way Joon and you walk away hurriedly and wonders if you have a thing for the boy. It would make sense right? Joon was around the same age and he saw you guys work together all the time.

Shaking his head, he walks back to the stage trying to not overthink whatever was flowing in his head. But he couldn't help but question why he was never invited to your place? He instantly rejected that idea, he was twice your age. There's no way that was realistically appropriate.

However, you were friends- so wasn't it hypothetically okay?

No, there was no way he was really debating this. It's completely understandable why he didn't need to be invited over and Joon could.

But how many times did Joon come over?

Stop. His thoughts were confusing him and he needed a distraction. He wasn't going to let another man make him envy of where his friendship stood with you because there is no way he's jealous Joon might take his close friend status.

Because that's who you were to him, a close friend.

After another hour of working with Joon secretly about the tickets while emailing more people who Finn ordered, you two were finally cut for the day.

And luckily you still had two hours before the tickets went on sale.

"I need to grab my coat I left backstage, meet me outside?" Joon asked and you nodded, waving him off as you put on your own coat and bag.

Sprinting out of the office, you didn't expect to fall on the floor by the the person who ran into you. Well, the person fell to the floor while you comfortably landed on top of them, their arms wrapping around you.

"If you missed me that much you should've just texted me sooner to drop by," you heard the culprit chuckle, immediately making you shake their secured hands off your waist to stand.

"That was definitely not the case," you laugh, sticking a hand out to help him get up.

He raises a brow while staring at your hand before taking it, instantly pulling you back down with him. Falling over again, you slowly slip into his arms before finding your balance and giving up on helping him.

"How adorable of you to think you can lift me up," he grins, pulling his own weight up.

"I would love to stay and chat," you start, before looking past him and back again. "But I have something very important to do."

Trying to move around him, he stops you by grabbing your shoulder. "That's why I came to be a generous person and offer you a ride- so you can be home faster and do whatever you needed to do with Josh."

"His name's Joon."

"That's what I said," he ignores you're doubtful glance. "I can take you guys to your apartment."

Thinking it over, it would make it easier and faster to get home and prepare for the sale. If you would've taken a cab and subway it would have been an hour, with him it'll be half that.

"Fine," you spit out and watch as his face lights up. "But I am not owing you anything, you offered."

"Love how two months ago you would've begged the world for me," he placed a hand over his heart. "Oh how comfortable you've gotten with me."

"I don't want to hear it," you shun him, walking past him as he makes a silly face behind your back. "I can feel that!" He immediately stops, surprised you sensed it.

Maybe the two of you gotten a long too well.

"He's gonna drive us to my place, it'll be faster," you quickly explain to Joon who just nods, happily smiling at Pedro who sends him a fast greeting.

Right as you walk through the parking garage and see the familiar black car, Pedro unlocks it before quickly pushing you into the passenger seat, ignoring your protests and slamming the door before you could slip out.

"Not cool," you utter once he buckles inside the driver's seat.

"Don't make me cry," he fake cries before pulling the car out and hitting the road back to your place.

Due to it being the weekend and everybody wanting to be social and outside for some reason, the streets were packed.

It didn't help that Pedro thought starting a deep conversation with Joon about why electric cars annoyed him, knowing damn well Joon loved the environment, was a good idea.

And Pedro's defense being because he loved the smell of gas made you want to slap him.

As if the heavens felt your annoyance, your wish was granted. You were finally in the front of your apartment complex with Pedro pulling up along the red curb. You would've fought him, but you were desperate to get inside as you barely had an hour left.

"Thanks, see you Monday!" you exclaim, jumping out of the car and slamming the door shut. "Let's go, Joon!"

Barely stepping a foot out, you heard Pedro begin talking. "Wait, what are you guys gonna do?"

"Very intense work," Joon stated before turning to you. "But we got this in the bag."

Pedro squints his eyes, curiously scanning your body language because he does not know what this very intense work meant.

Working out? Making out? What the hell was it?

"Of course we do, love has no limits," you declare, making Pedro cough as you grabbed Joon's arm. "Now, let's go!"

"What are you two going to eat?!" Pedro called out, making you heavily sigh and turn back around.

Faking a smile, you gritted your teeth. "Don't know. Maybe we'll cook or make Jules' grab food as we work."

He makes a face, not convinced he wants to let you guys leave. Now that he was here and his day was over with, he didn't want to be alone.

But he also didn't want to tell you he wanted to stay. He wanted you to invite him- but you weren't getting the hint. Or maybe you were, but you couldn't have him in the room while working with Joon.

"That's cool, did you know I make a killer chicken alfredo?" he speaks out, making you pull an interested face as you were very much not. "Especially with garlic bread."

"Make sure to make that once you get home, safe travels," you wave, trying to turn away but was once again stopped by his voice.

You could feel your kindness slowly leaving your body. Was this the day you would be arrested and charged for murder?

"You know what's the secret with making the pasta?" Pedro questions as Joon replies back a curious, "What?"

"The sauce!" he exclaims as you try to control yourself. He was definitely pushing your buttons but you had to stay calm- you had to.

Joon was too interested in the conversation Pedro was beginning, trying to ask what was in this mysterious sauce. You knew you had to interject or you would both be ticketless.

"Maybe you can tell us about this secretive sauce on Monday, when we next see you," you force a laugh, trying to slowly take a few steps back to inch towards the entrance doors. "We really have to g-"

"Why wait till Monday when I can tell you now?" he claps, getting reading to explain his recipe. "For starters, you need a thick, sauce that can sp-"

"Oh my god!" you squeal, causing both men to jump and stare at you in shock as you rambled on. "The parking structure is around the block, my number is 912- just park and come up! Let's go, Joon!"

With that, Joon and you ran inside and Pedro smiled to himself. His planned worked. He guessed the only way to get to you was by speaking nonsense until you gave in- he'll remember that in the future.

Rushing through your door, you took your coat off as Joon pulled his laptop out if his backpack and set it next to your desk.

You looked at it confusingly before asking, "you carry your laptop with you to work?"

"Duh, an intern should always be prepared for computer work," he replies as if it was the obvious rule we should all know.

Shrugging, you turned on your PC and immediately went to ticketmaster, finding that the tickets weren't going on sale until 35 minutes from now. "We still have time to breathe." That was until you heard light knocks on your door. "Spoke too soon."

Walking up to your door, you see that no one was out there.

That was until Pedro decided to jump out from the side and scare the living shit out of you.

"I'm not doing this," you glare, trying to slam the door on his face, but he forced his way in while laughing at the scream you exhaled before.

You stared at him with no expression as he fell to the floor, continuing to laugh as if your fear was the funniest thing in the world. Joon was even silently giggling in the corner, stopping when you made eye-contact with him.

Trying to find a bowl to fill with water so you could throw at him, your plans were interrupted when you heard your roommate's voice boom across the room.

"Who the fuck is making so much noise?! Some of us are trying to sleep- ah! Why is Mr. Boss here?" Jules' gasps, jumping behind the hallway wall and peeking only her head out, too embarrassed to show off her hello kitty pajamas.

"He's gonna make us some pasta with his secret sauce," Joon happily states as she just gives him a confused look.

"Plus, it's almost 3 in the afternoon...," Pedro adds, giving her a baffled look as to why she is barely waking up.

She just gives him an awkward glance before running back to her room, shutting the door. Saturday's were her day off, of course waking up after 5pm was normal.

"The time limit just turned green! Refresh to join the waiting room-" Joon began screeching, doing so on his computer as you jumped around Pedro to do the same on your PC.

Slowly walking up to where Joon was, Pedro began examining the situation you two were in. Reading over your computer screen, his face fell. "The 1975 2022 World Tour...were you guys seriously trying to buy concert tickets this whole time?!"

Joon and you exchanged innocent glances to one another, not sure if he was judging you for your dedication.

"No, we still are trying to buy tickets," you simply reply, pushing him away from your computer.

His negativity was bad luck.

"This is why you were rushing to get home? All for-"

"Be gone, pessimist. Your energy is not it," you frown, moving your game chair to block his view from your screen. "Joon, block your computer, we can't afford his cynical attitude to ruin our chances of making out with Matty Healy."

"Making out with Matty Healy? You still want that? How is he gonna notice you?" Pedro asks, trying hard not to laugh in your face.

You were quiet for a minute. It was just a crazy thing you said because of all the videos you had seen online whenever it was somebody's birthday or they were just a lucky fan in the front.

You weren't actually dedicated to kissing him, but you did wish.

Joon slowly raised his finger, pointing at Pedro. "You're famous, right? Maybe if you went he'll notice us?"

Eyes widening, Pedro quickly shook his head as you placed your hand over your mouth. He was right, maybe he wouldn't kiss you, but he would for sure meet you if he found out a famous actor with over a million followers on Instagram attended his show.

"Not a chance," Pedro declared, ignoring your puppy dog gaze as you just hoped doing it for long would make him so uncomfortable he would give in.

Nudging Joon, he followed your actions with the sad stare, the two of you in front of the poor actor, leaving him really no choice. You were even thinking about calling Jules out to help, but she probably wouldn't appreciate it by her state of looking homeless.

But if it were on a work day she would totally be in.

"You just look like a deformed bull terrier," he says, pulling a disgusted face. "It's kind of unattractive."

"What is that?" you urge, watching Joon hold a laugh.

"The target dog," Joon answers for you.

Shrieking, you smack Pedro in the arm. "My god, woman! You always hit me."

"You're coming with us to the concert," you announce, watching him roll his eyes. Before he could reject your demand, you beat him to it, "if you don't I'm never talking to you again."

"Please, I've been wishing for that for weeks now," he cheers. "Plus, I'm pretty sure I am busy the day they come."

Pulling yourself close to the computer, you check to see the day they were arriving. "So you're saying you aren't free November 7th?"

"Kid, that's basically a year from now. I can't guarantee anything."

"Damn, you're right," you frown, your mood going down. Joon's idea was pretty amazing, but just wrong timing since the concert was so far away. "You can leave now."

"And what about that famous chicken alfredo?" Pedro chuckled, finding your change in demeanor amusing. You must really love these indie boys.

You were about to reply when Joon intervened. "Oh my god! We are in the queue!"

Twisting your head, you could see the clock had hit 3 o'clock exactly. How did time go by that fast?

"Holy shit! Everybody disconnect from the house wifi on your phones! We can not have anything disturbing us!"

Pulling out your phone, you did what you ranted on and made sure Joon did the same. You even ran to Jules' door and banged on it until she confirmed she did so.

Running back to the computer, you could see there was still 983 people in front of you while Joon had 754. "Why is your computer going faster?"

"This laptop-," he sheepishly smiled. "-cost a fortune, but works like a charm."

Turning back to the screen, you saw the purple line move closer. Not even three minutes in and you only had 534 people left while Joon had 312.

You don't know what you did, but God was certainly rewarding you.

"You're honestly really weird," Pedro confessed, staring at your computer screen. "And sad."

"You would be if you were about to buy tickets to see the love of your life."

"I wouldn't pay anything, money can't buy love," Pedro insists, pulling a chair from your table and placing it in between Joon and you.

"That's very romantic," you swipe an imaginary tear from your cheek. "Save it for the cameras."

His jaw drops as you return back to your computer. In a few moments you were about to be inside the room and you were beyond scared. If you did not get these tickets you don't know how much longer you'll have to live.

"I'm in!" Joon shouts, causing you to jump to his screen.

Great, the two of you were going together anyway so it works out.

"Fuck, what's the presale code?!"

Placing your hands on your head as he begins to panic, you die inside. What the fuck were you going to do now? "Go on Twitter and check!"

To say Pedro was not intrigued would be a lie. It was very fascinating seeing how strongly engaged you were just for a damn ticket. To be honest, he thinks you would be great on a reality tv show- your expressions were just off the roof. He wonders if other people genuinely acted like you.

"It's probably something super simple, try 'thesound,'" you exclaim, watching as he typed right away but frowning when it denied it. "try 'somebodyelse.'"

After each attempt of every famous song they had, it was still wrong. What pissed you off even more was that fans were gatekeeping the code no matter how many times Joon and you tweeted for help.

Greedy little shits.

Eventually, your screen allowed you into the room as well. It was no use, you didn't have the code. "I think I'm going to have a panic attack," you clutch your chest as you felt your lips quiver from sadness. "We were so close."

Pedro just stared at you not believing how miserable you suddenly became. Is this how easily young people let concerts take over themselves? Do people really idolize artists that much to the point where they feel depressed if they don't get tickets?

He shivered imagining how BTS fans dealt with this pressure.

"Let me try," Pedro speaks up, pushing you to the side as he began typing away on your keyboard.

It never hurts to try, right?

Innocently clicking away, your face fell as the check mark appeared, unlocking the room for you. "He got in!"

Hurriedly jumping to the screen, Joon urged Pedro to do the same as you began searching through the seats. Instantly clicking on the floor, you hit the continue button for 2 seats.

Feeling your nerves kick in, your hands begin to shake as you typed in the needed information in order to complete your order. But once you pressed 'place your order," your world stopped.

Ignoring your surroundings, you only focused on the screen. Quietly praying, you're sure Joon and Pedro could hear your desperate requests to the ruler of the universe to grant you your biggest wish: these tickets.

You Got The Tickets To The 1975!

Feeling weightless, you screamed so loud you were sure your neighbors were going to call the cops. Joon looked over, doing the same cheers once he realized you two were set for the show.

Jumping out of your chair, you practically tackled Pedro to the ground as you wrapped your arms around his neck and planted him numerous kisses all over his cheeks.

For once, you were happy you managed to outlast his annoying-self.

"I will forever be grateful for your existence!" you cheer, squeezing his poor body in your arms as he tried to remain in balance, laughing at how nice you suddenly became.

Planting a big kiss on his forehead, you turn to Joon and jump together in happiness. You couldn't believe you managed to score tickets, especially floor seats.

"Wait, what was the code?" Joon asked, pulling away from you and turning to Pedro who tried containing his grin.

"The 1975."

You dropped you arms, feeling incredibly stupid. How could you not write their name as a code attempt? It was shorter than 'it's not living if it's not with you.'

"Joon, we are officially the two dumbest people in New York City," you confess as he slowly nods before stopping.

"Not dumber than Jules though."

You heard her door open before her loud yelling appeared, "Well fuck you too!"

Ignoring her, you jump to Pedro who had his gaze on you already. "Welp! Since we got that out of the way, why don't you make some of that chicken alfredo with your sauce."

He smiled before realizing what you were asking. "What sauce?"

You roll your eyes before hitting his side. "The secretive one you were bothering us about."

Pedro bounces up once he understands what he had mentioned earlier. "Oh, right. That one," he chuckles. "I was kidding, I just wanted to see what you guys were dong."

Your face falls as Joon lets out a sad sigh. "Man, I really wanted to taste how thick and creamy that sauce was."

Pedro just tilts his head to Joon before pointing at the door. "It was great hanging with you guys though! Hey, at least we all worked together for those tickets! I'm gonna head out now, have a good rest of your evening!"

With that, he awkwardly backs away and opens the door, quickly running out before you could argue why he would lie about such a thing.

Before you could process what had just happened, he quickly opens the door again and peeps his head inside. "By the way, you don't actually like a deformed bull terrier," he clarifies. "I was kidding, maybe a cavalier king charles spaniel, those are precious."

And again, he runs out. This time, your face was pretty noticeable when it came to how much redness was present. You cringed to yourself, the littlest of compliments always made you blush- it made you sick.

Joon and you exchanged confused looks to each other. Pedro was a very interesting man.

"What is a cavalier king charles spaniel?" you lightly question.

"The dog in the arms of an angel commercial," Joon simply replies.

Reaching his car, Pedro quickly unlocked the door before jumping in. He felt his heart beating fast, not sure why it was doing so.

Was it because he adored how committed you were for those damn tickets? Maybe. Or how your eyes sparkled once you realized you got the right code? Possibly.

How you kissed him and pulled him in close? Most definitely.

But he would never reveal such a thing to anyone. People would take it wrong and believe he had feelings for you. All he had were feelings one would have for another close friend like you.

His heart was beating because he was excited for you, that's all.

Walking around the studio Monday morning was exhausting. Not only did you pull an all-nighter Saturday night because you were too happy to fall asleep, but you only managed to gain a few hours of sleep on Sunday as you were too busy trying to finish homework due that same night.

"Are you alright? Do you need water?" you heard Bella worriedly ask as you pulled a hoodie over your head and walked near the snacks table.

"I need a pill that can wake me up."

"That could be arranged," she joked, stopping when you sent her a serious look. "Not by me, of course."

Bella managed to wake you up a little once she suddenly pulled out her phone and turned the flash on, flashing it all around your face. "Are you trying to make me blind?!"

"It's supposed to wake you up, is it working?" she grinned, still shoving her phone up your face.

Grabbing her wrist, she stops. "No."

"Damn, that sucks."

Somehow you managed to pull yourself together, walking to where the rest of the interns were once you heard all the directors call out for an urgent meeting.

Probably wanting one of you to run to the coffee shop for coffee as usual.

Seeing Pedro waving at you from the side of his cast's group, you smiled and returned it. He then proceeded to make a confused face, wondering why there was an emergency meeting being held.

You sent the same look, adding a shrug because you were feeling the same. You weren't aware about what was going on, but noticing how many people were present- it must be a big deal.

Finn walked in and stood near the director, sending you a smile that didn't look natural.

If anything it looked fake and...sad?

"A lot of you are probably wondering why I called everyone down here on this early morning," you hear one of the directors begin, making some people nod while others just patiently waited for him to continue. "Starting with wonderful news, we have just been given access to explore our visuals and proceed to try out different surroundings in regards to our planned perception for the series."

Hearing a few people clap, you do the same. You were glad that the set was upgrading, but what did they have to do with everyone?

"Unfortunately," you heard him begin, causing your breathe to hitch. "with locations being held in various places like Canada, we are going to have to make cuts."

Feeling your heart drop, you already knew who he was planning to remove. A big series like this can't send interns they don't care about out of the country for help and you sure as hell couldn't afford to pay for the travels yourself if it came down to it.

You didn't want to make eye-contact with Bella or Pedro and feel their condolences through their expressions. All you wanted to do was be cut already so you could go home and cry at home.

To cry over a job was pathetic, but considering how much you learned and loved to manage it for the past couple months, it was sad to let it go.

As the director went down the list of small departments he planned on letting go, he finally made it to yours. "As for the interns, we are especially grateful for the hard work you brought to this set and trying to fill not only our needs but the casts. If we have any open positions in the near future we will make sure to grant you priority, and if you ever need letters of recommendations for your future activities, I am sure Finn would be able to handle that behind closed doors..."

You zoned out after that, not really caring what else was being said. It was the typical its not us excuse, claiming the company couldn't provide for all of their workers yet were able to spend millions of dollars on each location and its visuals.

The meeting was over when you noticed the directors and producers giving a final sympathetic look to the crowd, bowing their heads before walking back to where their offices were located.

"I feel like crying," you heard Jules sniffle, patting her under eye with her sweater. "But I took time on my eye makeup so I can't!"

Rubbing her shoulder, you tried to distract her from her tears coming out as Joon stood next to you guys, telling her funny spongebob jokes that she did not understand.

"Uh oh, Mr. Boss is coming. He's gonna make me cry, I can't hear his sorrow," Jules' explained, turning her back the other way.

"Hey, kids," you heard Pedro lightly say.

"The tears are coming out!" Jules' exclaimed, running away to the nearest bathroom while Joon and you looked at each other, feeling extremely bad for her.

"Sorry about that," Pedro awkwardly started, continuing once you shook off his unnecessary apology. "I just wanted to talk, see how you guys are handling the unfortunate news."

Joon was the first to speak, sounding surprisingly calm for someone who just lost his internship. "It sucks, but at least it was for an understandable reason. Traveling costs money. Plus, we go to school here, we can't just leave."

You nodded, agreeing with what he said. It was true, you should have known this job would've ended sooner than later, there was only so much you could have done inside a film studio.

The series was an apocalypse that needed feature more outside and environmental sets that looked deadly than a building that was only useful for inside takes.

"How about you?" He questions, sincere eyes following yours as you shrug.

"I am sad but that's the industry," you force out a small chuckle. "If you aren't cut at least once, you aren't gaining the full experience."

Right after you said that, you felt tears lining around the inner corner of your eyes. Looking down, you tru to contain yourself. "I'm going to go check up on Jules."

Reaching out for you, Pedro tries to console you but you were out of his reach in seconds. He hated the tears in your eyes and his job being the reason behind it.

He felt as if it were his fault for your departure when he knows he shouldn't.

It also didn't make him feel any better that Joon followed straight after you once you walked away. He knew he had to do something but he wasn't sure.

All he knew was that he would rather see you smile than cry.

[mazzymoonlight]

Are There Still Beautiful Things?

summary: inspired by taylor’s “seven”, follow JJ and reader through snapshots of their lives together.

warnings: mentions of the death of a parent, mentions of excessive drinking, mentions of abuse

word count: 9.9k

a/n: hellooo & welcome to my first fic :) some of this had been previously posted in parts, but after evaluation i realized this needed to be heavily edited & worked better in this format. this fic has a special place in my heart, so i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoyed writing it. (p.s, happy obx 3 eve!)

SEVEN

please, picture me in the trees, i hit my peak at seven feet, in the swing over the creek, i was too scared to jump in but i, i was high in the sky with pennsylvania under me … are there still beautiful things?

JJ Maybank thinks the last time he was truly, truly happy was when he was seven. At such a young age, anything seemed possible. The sky was the limit and the ocean was their backyard. He had his mother and his father, and even though it leaked sometimes, a roof over his head.

And he had his friends, his favorite people in the world. John B, who he had been sat next to on the first day of second grade and was now inseparable from, and y/n, the girl whose mother was his mother’s best friend, who he had known his whole life.

It was always the three of them, getting into trouble together and spending nearly every moment with each other. You rarely saw one of them without at least one other, and even at such a young age, it was clear they had a bond some people spent a lifetime searching for. They were lucky, and people liked to tell them that.

In their younger days, one of the moms (or more often, both of them together) would often take the trio around. Watching at the beach while they learned to surf, the parks while they played until red in the face, treating them to dinners at the local establishments, or ice cream on those extra hot and intolerable days.

But their favorite was camping in the backyard. They would set up a tent and a bonfire, and roast s’mores and stare at the stars.

JJ’s mom had a particular affinity for the mystery that hung above them and would spend hours teaching the kids everything she knew. She loved the moon, she would tell them everything she knew. She liked to talk about the phases and what they meant, what kind of full moons they were in store for soon.

But Saturn was her favorite, she would talk about any chance she could.

Did you know it’s actually a big ball of gas? That it would float in water?

The ring is made up of ice and dirt and bits.

It’s windy up there.

It takes twenty-nine earth years to revolve around the sun.

Time must move slowly up there.

And they let her talk too. And they listened to every word. They listened to the tales and myths and theories of space until they couldn’t fight the sleep back, and their eyes of wonder became sleepy, slowly blinking at the woman in front of them.

“Goodnight,” She’d say to the three of them, and then she would lean in close to JJ, and leave a kiss on his little forehead.

“I love you to the moon and to Saturn.” he would fall into sleep with a smile on his face.

Nights like that were always beautiful. Memories like that were beautiful.

JJ couldn’t help but wonder; without them, was there any beauty at all left in the world?

FOURTEEN

sweet tea in the summer, cross my heart won’t tell no other, and though i can’t recall your face, i still got love for you your braids like a pattern love you to the moon and to saturn, passed down like folk songs … the love last so long.

The summer they were fourteen, JJ’s life changed. His mother passed, and he was never the same after it. It seemed like the entirety of the outer banks was aware of the light that had been lost.

y/n and her parents were right alongside Luke and JJ. None of them knew what was in store without her. Filled with anger, sadness, regret, and guilt, they all knew that she had so much more to give. Life was not kind, life was not fair, and although they all knew it, they never thought that they would get a reminder quite like this.

JJ stood in between his two best friends, y/n’s hand in his, she was struggling too, but she was holding back. She knew she had to be strong for JJ, she had lost someone special, but he lost his mother, and that was something that he would never get back, something that could never be replaced.

That night y/n stays with JJ, and they end up outside the same way they used to, but without a bonfire tonight. Tonight they stare in silence at the night sky, both thinking about all the things JJ’s mom had told them about the stars and planets above.

“I keep thinking she’s on Saturn,” y/n says, suddenly, the thought slipping out before she can think about stopping herself.

“What?”

“I keep thinking about Saturn, how much she loved it.” She clarifies, “And I keep thinking how happy she must be to finally see it.”

There’s more she wants to say, but figures it’s nothing that JJ hasn’t already heard. What can she say, really? When she catches his smile, the first she’s seen in weeks, she leaves it at that. She’s said all she needs to.

“Yea,” he said, wiping a stray tear. “I bet she is. I like that thought.”

And he meant it. The thought of his mom, an angel on her favorite planet, he didn’t think there was any other explanation.

FIFTEEN

JJ’s fifteenth birthday creeps up, and y/n had worked extra to get him a special present. She had seen it in one of the windows of the fancy boutiques on figure eight and immediately ran in to look at it, begging the store owner to hold it for her after seeing the price on the tag. It had to be JJ’s, she knew it the moment she saw it.

So two weeks later she returned with money collected from babysitting and delivering groceries, the proudest smile on her face. Bringing it home and exchanging the chain for a longer silver one before wrapping it up neatly.

Everyone gathers at the Maybank home on the day of. John B and his father, y/n and her parents, and Pope and Kiara, who the trio had recently befriended.

Luke had even put in a little effort, putting up some simple birthday decorations he had bought from the dollar tree. It wasn’t very much, but all JJ cared about was that everyone he loved was there with him. JJ was happy, but there was a lurking sadness in the back of his head. This was his first birthday without his mom. There was an empty space that would never be filled, no matter how hard he tried. And he was trying very hard.

Despite the weight of loss, it was one of the best days JJ’s had in a long time. Luke had set up a slip-n-slide for the kids, really just a tarp with some water and some dish soap but the kids didn’t care. He grilled hamburgers and hotdogs and even stocked up on more sodas than they needed. y/n had made a cake and John B helped her decorate it. It was sloppy, but it was theirs, for JJ.

y/n had waited until later to give JJ his present. She found him still sitting at the outside table with his hand on his chin, looking up into space like he always did.

“There you are.” She says, siding into the seat next to him. She follows his gaze up toward the night sky.

“Looking for Saturn?” she asks.

“Always am.” He answers sadly despite the small smile on his lips.

She doesn’t say anything, only matches his sad smile with one of her own, and holds out the box shyly.

“Happy birthday Jay.”

He takes it gently, looking at her with a look neither of them can register yet. He leans into her a bit, nudging her softly before tearing at the paper.

When he opens the box his smile drops, and suddenly it feels like he can’t breathe, he feels caught off guard as his emotions blindside him. He had no clue what to expect but this certainly wasn’t it.

y/n sees his reaction and it feels like a gut punch. Why had she gotten him that?

She felt so certain it belonged with JJ but seeing him look so upset now she just felt stupid.

“JJ, I’m sorry, I can bring it back, I just thought … if you don’t like it I’ll take it back.” She tries to explain herself and reaches for the box, but he jerks away from her when she tries to take it back.

She freezes, confused now. He doesn’t catch her reaction, still looking at the necklace in his hands.

“I think I’m forgetting her.” He finally says, voice barely above a whisper, like he was scared to say it. Like this was the first time he was admitting it to himself.

“I’m scared y/n, it’s only been a year, and every day I’m scared I’ve lost another piece of her, what if I’m forgetting her?” And then he’s crying before he can stop himself, sobbing almost.

He clutches the box to his chest like he’s scared to let it go, like letting it go would be the end of the world for the second time.

y/n pulls him in, a few tears of her own falling, thinking of all the things she would do and the things she would trade to take away his pain.

“JJ… you’re not going to forget her, okay, I promise you. All you’re doing is healing, trying to learn to live a normal life without your mom, something that no child should ever have to do. You have so many memories of her, you have so many stories and pictures. You're a piece of her. When you’re older you’ll pass the stories on, and people who never got to know her will know her. And when you're older, older, you’ll tell your kids about their grandmother, the woman who was as strong as a hurricane and soft as a butterfly all in one. You won’t forget her JJ, you can’t when you’re part of her.”

She talks him down, and once he subsides he sees the truth in her words, he trusts her so he trusts what she’s saying wholeheartedly.

“You promise me, y/n?”

She holds him tighter

“Cross my heart JJ.”

“Okay,” He says, sitting up from her.

“Okay?” she questions, wiping the last few tears from his face “because you don’t have to be.”

“I know, but I will be.”

She smiles at that, she knew he would be, even if he didn’t fully believe it, he was the strongest person she knew.

She nods towards the necklace “so you like it then?”

He nods. “I think this is the best present I’ll ever get.” And finally pulls the chain out of the box, staring at the clip confused as he tries to figure it out himself.

y/n laughs, making a motion for him to come closer.

“Here, I’ll do it for you.”

She undoes the clasp and wraps it around his neck, closing it again before adjusting, the charm settling just above his heart.

Her fingers linger on the charm, smiling at the memory, the meaning of it.

“Now you have your own Saturn, always with you.”

His hand closes on hers.

You are my Saturn y/n, he thinks.

But instead, he wraps her in a hug, “wanna camp out tonight? I’ll get John B to come back, the three of us like old times.”

She nods in his arms.

“Always.”

That night the three of them all felt like things had gone back to normal, even just for the night both John B and y/n were glad that JJ could feel some type of relief, even if it was fleeting. They knew in the morning things would go back to the way they were, and JJ would struggle a little bit more than the average person, but if they could just give him a couple of hours, it was worth it.

And finally, when they’ve retired to bed and settled in their sleeping bags, JJ and y/n had the same thought running through their minds as they fell asleep.

I love you to the moon and to Saturn.

And JJ swears he felt something press against his forehead that night, exactly like old times.

SIXTEEN

and i’ve been meaning to tell you, i think your house is haunted, your dad is always mad and that must be why, and i think you should come live with me and we can be pirates … then you won’t have to cry, or hide in the closet and just like a folk song, our love will be passed on

The summer they were sixteen was one they had been dreaming about what felt like their whole lives. Finally old enough to roam freely, exploring all the nooks and crannies unsupervised. The trio had now officially graduated to a group of five, and now they took on the world with Pope and Kiara by their sides.

It should have been a dream. Granted, most of the time it was, but there were nightmares constantly lurking in the corner. JJ didn’t want to admit it, but he was pretty sure he had finally lost his father.

Luke Maybank was never the same after his wife died, but for a while, he at least attempted for JJ. He tried, he really did, to be there, and be something for JJ. But he was losing himself, and in the past year, he was slipping further and further away, turning into someone that even y/n’s parents, who had known him for so long, didn’t recognize.

The drinking was getting out of control, and the hitting started not too long after. When he was sober, he was sorry, but eventually, it became a rare occasion to find Luke Maybank sober

So JJ’s normal became sneaking around his own house, avoiding the last of his family, seeing how many family dinners at y/n’s he could get invited to each week, and saving everything he could from his oddball jobs to get out as soon as possible.

He didn’t like to talk about it, in fact, he never did. He let the pogues think whatever they wanted to and never gave them a real answer when they asked. As far as he was concerned, they didn’t need to be concerned about him, he’d be leaving soon anyways.

But y/n knew. She watched like she always did, she was observant. She watched his eyes get that faraway look whenever he rattled off his latest excuse and the way his smile would fall when he thought no one was looking. She watched him and knew he was hurting more than he would let on.

She had gone to his house to find him but only found Luke instead, and what she saw scared her. She did not recognize the stumbling drunk man looking back at her. And he didn’t recognize her either. The girl he had watched grow up next to JJ, the girl he had roasted countless marshmallows for when she was scared of getting too close to the fire. The girl he made pancakes for in the mornings and the girl he lit fireworks for on the fourth of July. None of the memories registered, he had run her off his property like a stranger had just trespassed.

It was when y/n knew that for the second time, JJ’s life had changed. The knowledge tormented her for weeks. She hated the small piece of her that still felt sympathy for Luke, he was a broken man with plenty of reason to be. She was holding out hope, that something good would happen to JJ.

But when JJ showed up with a black eye one afternoon, blaming it on a group of kooks, she knew she had to say something. She spilled half-truths to her parents, although she suspected they picked up on the unspoken story from the tears in her eyes.

“I’m just - I’m worried about him. I just have this feeling that things have been, I don’t know … harder than normal lately.”

Her parents had sensed the shift too, all her confession had done was confirm the suspicion. Her mother told her then that JJ was always welcome in the home, and her father told her he would try to talk to Luke the next day.

And that worked for a little bit, JJ had visibly perked up and for a minute things seemed like they were back to normal, and y/n was waiting for the right to tell him what she knew but it seemed Luke had beat her to it.

She had been waiting for him at the beach, but her smile immediately turned to worry when she saw him storming up toward her.

“What the fuck y/n?” was the first thing out of his mouth, and now instead of worried she was panicked realizing his anger was directed towards her.

“JJ, what-” But before she can get anything else out he’s talking again.

“What did you do? What did your dad do? What’s with all these cryptic messages of watching us and threatening to take me away? I mean what the fuck, what does that even mean? Take me away? Away from what, my home? My father, my only family I have left? How could you do this to me?”

Her face pales immediately, her head shaking.

“JJ, that is not what happened, that’s not what he meant -”

“So then it’s true, he did come by?”

“Yes but he didn’t threaten your dad JJ, he -”

“You know what y/n, I don’t care. I just came to tell you to stay out of it. I don’t know what you think you know, but my dad and I are fine. We don’t all have a picture-perfect family to go home to at the end of the day.”

His words stung, leaving her nearly speechless. “That’s- that’s not fair JJ. You are family.” She chokes out, but he was already walking away.

“What if it was me?” She calls out, frustrated.

He stops, and she keeps going. “If I were you, and my dad was putting his hands on me. If I started showing up with marks and bruises, wouldn’t you do anything to protect me?”

“I don’t need you to protect me y/n.” And that’s the last thing he says to her before walking away.

JJ’s not around for the next couple of weeks, and it drives y/n up the wall not knowing where he was, or what he was up to.

She spends time with the pogues, but she’s never fully there at any time, part of her mind was constantly on JJ. She finally broke one day and told the pogues to please go find JJ and make him go out on the boat with them. They tried to argue with her but she told them that she was pretty sure that if he didn’t blow off some steam soon, he was going to start getting into trouble, and it wouldn’t be good for him.

She gave them space for a few days, and just assumed that they had picked up JJ and got him out of the house for a bit, so she nearly lost it when the pogues finally confessed that they hadn’t seen or heard from JJ since they had been tasked to go find him.

“Are you sure he’s not at the house?” she asked “Sometimes he just won’t come out, or if you ran into Luke then -”

“He wasn’t there, and we didn’t see Luke either. We checked inside.” Pope answers.

She could feel herself panicking.

“Why did you say something sooner?” She stressed, looking mostly at John B.

He looks down, away from her gaze. “You know how he is y/n… and you were already worried enough. We thought he’d turn up soon, he always does.”

She shakes her head, “maybe, but haven’t you noticed that when he does there’s always a new bruise?”

The three of them exchange looks while she closes her eyes, taking a breath and trying to think for a moment.

“Okay, why don’t you guys go check some of our beach spots maybe? There are a few places I can look and just keep me updated if you find him and I’ll let you guys know too.”

They part ways and y/n knows she’s going back to check the house first. Even if he had left, he was never gone from the house long, there was too much to leave behind.

She parks a little way down from the house, she hadn’t been back since the day Luke had yelled at her and if she was being honest she was still a bit scared. She crept up to the house carefully, freezing she hears shouting, the noise becoming clear once the door swings open.

“Boy, I tell ya, that’s just about the funniest thing I think I’ve heard you say.” y/n hears him laughing maniacally.

“You’re not going anywhere, you won’t leave her, you know you won’t. You’re stuck here, just like me.”

Luke stumbles off towards a trail and y/n waits until he’s out of sight before dashing into the house, finding it still and quiet. She wonders for a moment if Luke had been talking to himself the whole time, not finding it entirely impossible considering how drunk he seemed.

And then y/n is suddenly realizing that the last time she had been in this house was JJ’s fifthteenth birthday, and she was suddenly very aware of how empty it felt. It had lost the warmness and comfort it once held, feeling more like a ghost town than a home now. She felt out of place, which was something she never, ever thought she would feel in the Maybank home.

She notices a slightly open closet door at the end of the hallway, and she swore she could hear sniffling, muffled cries like someone tucked away and hiding in there.

“JJ?” she called out, and when it suddenly went silent again, she knew, rushing over to the door and opening it delicately.

And there JJ was, curled up in himself, knees up to his chest and a photograph in his hand. She knew exactly what photo he was looking at, and she immediately dropped next to him. She didn’t know what to do, she didn’t want to scare him, but looking at him broke her heart.

So instead she starts talking.

“I remember that day.” She says. “That was one of the fourth of July parties, we were all there, even John B and his dad. And this was the year the full moon lined up with the holiday, and your mom was so excited, she talked about it all day and got us excited too. Our dads bought way too many fireworks like they always did. And we ended the night with s’mores, of course, because it wouldn’t be one of our nights without them. You always were so messy. There she is again, cleaning you up.”

JJ falls into her then, and y/n catches him like she always does, and always will. She has tears too, staring at the picture of an innocent JJ, a smile plastered on his face, stacked s’more in hand, staring up at his mom who he loved so much, with no idea he was going to lose her in the next few years. And there was his mom too, beautiful as always, her own s'more in one hand and the other attempting to wipe the sticky marshmallow from his mouth, laughing because she knows it’s useless. But she was his mother, so she would try regardless.

She wraps him up in her arms, her grasp firm so he knows she’s there but not tight enough to hurt him.

“I know why you won’t leave. I know why you won’t leave him, why you always come back. You’re holding on to that last piece of normal. It’s okay, it’s okay to hold on, but not when it’s hurting you like this. This house is full of memories, but it’s haunted and full of pain too. I would never ask you to leave what you know, but please just come with me for tonight, maybe a few days at most.”

JJ has always trusted y/n, so even now, when he was upset and jumbled with emotions he trusts her.

She lifts them both up gently. “Let’s get some spare clothes, okay? I can pack them for you if you want.”

They both walk into his room but he makes no effort to pack. Instead, he picks up another photograph that was sitting on his dresser before sitting at the end of the bed. Without saying anything else she grabs one of his duffle bags, and starts putting in a few extra shirts and shorts, and even grabs a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt just in case. When she’s finished he’s still staring at the photo like he’s in some kind of trance.

She throws the bag over her shoulder and reaches her hand out to JJ. That seems to break him out of his state a little, standing up and pocketing the photographs. He takes her hand and they walk out of the house together, out to her car.

She pulls into her driveway, and they walk into the house together and up to her room.

“Why don’t you shower and change?” She can tell he’s still dazed, and she’s hoping a shower will relax him.

While he showers she makes her way back downstairs, her parents are out of town for the next few days, so she figures she’ll cross that bridge when she gets there. She does, however, text the pogues, realizing just how long it had been since they all began looking for JJ. She keeps it simple and just lets them know that he’s okay and with her for now.

And then, she makes two sandwiches, one for herself and one for JJ, because she knew he wouldn’t eat if he thinks she had made something especially for him. When she walks back up the stairs into her room, JJ is already out of the shower and changed. He looks up when she walks in and she lifts up the plates of sandwiches slightly.

“Eat with me?” she asks.

They sit and eat the sandwiches in silence, and when they’re both finished she runs the plates back down before returning with two classes of water.

“Okay,” she says after a few sips. “Just try to get some rest, okay? I’m going to shower, but I’ll be quick.”

Long after the shower turns on, JJ is still hesitating and realizing how stupid their fight was. All that he knows is that he missed y/n, and now he was here with her, everything felt like maybe it would all be okay.

He had just made it under the covers when the water shut off, and a few minutes later y/n came out, not hesitating to lay down in the bed beside JJ. It didn’t matter that they had been fighting, or not speaking, or had not seen each other in the past few weeks. They would always be there when it was needed.

“I’m sorry y/n,” he says suddenly. She had thought he had fallen asleep.

She shakes her head, even though he can’t see her.

“It’s okay.”

He rolls over, and now they’re both on their back, staring blankly at the ceiling as if staring long enough would make it disappear and show them the night sky just on the other side of it.

“But it’s not.” He starts, “You were just trying to protect me. And this whole thing has been so stupid - I’ve been so stupid. I didn’t like that, us fighting, us not talking. It just feels like … a storm sometimes. In my head, and it scares me when I’m not in control.”

His hand finds hers in the dark, “I know you were just trying to protect me. I was just mad at myself because I feel like it’s my job to protect you, and I wasn’t doing that.”

She squeezes his hand. “Maybe it’s not okay…” she starts, “but just know I understand, and that I’m always going to be here.”

She looks at him then, reaching up and finding his chin, turning it gently.

“And we protect each other, okay?” There’s a desperation in her voice that he picks up on. One that he understands, deeply.

He gives her wrist a soft squeeze, “okay.”

Then he’s curling into her, and she lets him. It’s silent for another moment before y/n breaks it this time.

“JJ?” she says quietly.

He’s barely awake but he still answers her with a tired “Mhm?”

She hesitates, “to the moon and to Saturn.” She backs out, but the unspoken meaning is still there.

He smiles.

“You are my Saturn.

EIGHTEEN

please, picture me in the weeds, before i learned civility, i used to scream ferociously … any time i wanted

y/n blinks and suddenly it’s graduation. She’s never been happier, a swirl of excitement and pride all in one stirring in her stomach. For herself and everyone but mostly for JJ. Things had been okay enough, but no one could deny the hand JJ had been dealt. He faced it every day, the sideway looks and the backhanded comments and the flat-out insults. But he had done it, proved them all wrong.

Luke had even made it to the ceremony, sitting tucked away in the back as he watched his son walk the stage, and afterward y/n eyes them as they had a conversation before finally parting ways.

JJ runs over to the rest of the group, scooping up y/n and spinning her around, cheering and causing a scene.

“We did it, we’re done!” He’s yelling, “we’re free!”

They continue to chat for a while and joke around, taking photos until the parents are all satisfied before parting ways with plans to meet back up at the beach later in the night.

JJ goes home with y/n and her parents, where there’s a small celebration set up for the pair. They eat cake and flip through old scrapbooks and photo albums. He’s happy, but there’s a sting in his chest, wishing his mom was there.

He imagines briefly, what it would have been like had his dad never changed, if he would have been there in the living room with them, or if he would have had his own afternoon planned. He decides not to dwell on it, instead, he wraps his arms around her from behind on the couch. He focuses on her, and her parents, the photo album of past memories. He understands he’s still lucky.

It gets later, and before JJ and y/n leave for the beach her parents call them into the kitchen again, they have something for JJ. He blushes at the statement, although he tries to hide it. He’s handed a small box and is shocked when he sees a silver key sitting inside.

“We hope we aren’t overstepping,” your mom starts, “really, it’s a bit overdue but we just thought - we just want you to know you’re welcome here anytime.”

Her father places a firm hand on his shoulder when he sees JJ getting choked up, “just if you ever need anything. Hell, if you ever just want to come bother us. You know you’re family.”

He laughs a bit, trying to lighten the mood, shaking his head, “Aw man, now you guys got me all emotional.”

Then he looks up at her father, “thank you, really.” And then he turns to her mother too, and she pulls him into a hug that he gladly accepts. “This means a lot to me, really… I don’t … I don’t know what I would’ve done without you guys. Where I’d be… just, thank you.” He tells her.

“You don’t need to thank us, honey. We’ll always be here to take care of you.”

The moment passes, he pulls away, clearing his throat in an attempt to hide his emotional state and he turns to y/n. “Alright, soaps over.” He announces, “you ready to go?”

They make their way to the beach, talking about summer along the way. JJ keeps listing all the things he wants everyone to do together before it’s time to part for school.

They find a spot on the beach, sitting and talking about how strange it is to be done with high school, and the future. Everyone is leaving, even John B. But JJ and y/n decided to stay close to home, not ready to leave yet.

“After college,” he says, “that’s when it’ll be time to go.”

“You would leave Outer Banks?” She asks, slightly shocked.

“Yea.” He says, confused as to why she was so shocked at his statement

“I’ve always said that, why the face?” He questions.

She looks down, realizing that he was right, he had always said that. She never thought about it in detail, never pressed him on it. Maybe she thought all this time that he never really meant it. Everyone always says they want to leave their hometown but how often did they really?

“nothing it’s just, something I heard Luke say once.”

She catches the way his face drops and she tries to backtrack

“No, no, it was nothing bad I promise. I heard him say ‘you know you won’t leave her’ and I don’t know, it’s just the only thing I’d ever agree on with Luke. That you wouldn’t leave your mom behind, and I understand that. You could build something better, be something better.”

He has a pained look on his face, his hand reaching up to the Saturn around his neck.

“Did you mean what you said, about me being a part of my mom?”

She rests a hand on his shoulder, “of course I did JJ. Everyone knows. You’re the best parts of her.”

“Then it won’t matter where I go. She’ll always be with me.”

Then the look on his face turns into a smirk.

“Besides,” he starts, “it wasn’t my mom he was talking about.”

y/n pulls her arm back from JJ’s, retreating into her own space.

“Oh.” She says simply, starting to wonder who would keep him tied here.

The only other girl he really had in his life was Kiara, and they had been awfully close this past year. She had even gifted him a locket for his seventeenth birthday and it now sat right next to his Saturn charm. It took everything in her not to ask what it was, her curiosity was killing her but she respected his privacy more. But truthfully, y/n couldn’t blame JJ even if she wanted to. Kiara was special, she wouldn’t want to leave her either. She didn’t want to leave any of them.

And then y/n started to realize that she always thought it would be her and JJ. Whenever she imagined the future, JJ was there too. She was realizing that maybe it was selfish of her to just assume he’d always be there. She knew he had dreams of his own, and who was to say that she was involved in any of them?

“Hey now,” he starts when he notices the change in her demeanor, grabbing at her face and pushing at the corner of her lips, playfully trying to force a smile.

“Why’s my y/n so sad?” He says with a pout, putting on a dramatic voice like he’s talking to a hurt child.

She pushed his hands away, trying to look annoyed but failing miserably, not being able to control the smile that follows her laugh.

“Well I’m sorry, my best friend just dropped a bomb that he has some mystery woman he’d follow to the ends of the earth. I guess I’m just a piece of moldy bread to you now, huh? I’ve been replaced.”

She overplays her sadness, saying it dramatically, but truthfully deep down a part of her is hurting at the thought.

His hands have moved to the side of her face.

“Come on now y/n, you’re supposed to be the smart one.”

She places her own hands on his, turning her head to the side slightly in question.

“Oh my god y/n,” he laughs, “are you going to make me say it?”

She remains silent, her face reflecting her deeper confusion, wondering what he was on about. She honestly felt like she had missed something, feeling like he had moved on to a whole new topic all together.

“It’s you, you big dummy!” He exclaims, shaking her a bit to emphasize his point.

Suddenly y/n is shocked and embarrassed, moving her head down, trying to hide from JJ’s gaze.

He laughs again and pulls her in, “I would never leave you y/n. You’re stuck with me.”

She doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t need to, instead, she lets him tuck her into his chest. Her eyes land on that locket of his, and she can’t stop her fingers from playing with the charm.

Then suddenly his hand is running up her arm and grabbing hers.

“Why don’t you just ask already?” He says and she immediately freezes. “I know you want to know.”

She still doesn’t say anything but she shrugs her shoulders a bit. Yes, y/n was dying to know what was in the locket but part of her also felt it was an unspoken line that she shouldn’t cross. It was Kiara that had given it to him, so it was probably something that meant a lot to the two of them, and she didn’t want to pry at their relationship.

Of course, he would tell her if she asked but she never let herself.

“Just open it y/n.”

She looks up at him, still hesitant. But the look on his face reassures her, so she pinches open the locket and immediately smiles when she sees the photo inside. That photo from that fourth of July all those years ago, sitting with his mom on the banket, marshmallow all over his face. She can’t help the bittersweet tears that prick at her eyes, thinking about all that JJ had accomplished, and wishing more than anything that his mother had been there to see it.

Then silently JJ reaches up and opens the locket the rest of the way, and when y/n sees the photo on the other side it feels like all the air has been sucked out of her. It’s a photo of him and her from when they were little, looking like it’s from the same night. There they were, standing next to each other with wide eyes and beaming smiles, sparklers in hand. Trails of light surrounded the sparklers, the children unable to keep them still.

And that was when y/n knew. She knew that it would always be the two of them, somehow and someway. She knew that she would go wherever he wanted or needed to go at the drop of a hat and that he too would follow her without hesitation. And most of all she knew she was lucky. She knew how lucky she was to have someone like JJ in her life.

She closes the locket with tears in her eyes, and rests her palm on his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly. When she finally looks up she sees him tearing up too. She reaches up and wraps her arms around him, holding onto him tightly and he does the same.

“I love you JJ.”

He squeezes her tighter for a moment.

“I love you too y/n.”

And maybe the words meant more to both of them. It seemed like over the years that the lines between loving platonically and loving romantically had blurred. Best friends, soulmates, twin flames, they were always something to each other. But the one thing that they did know was that they had time. They had so much time to figure it out and neither were in a rush to figure it out. What they were now was good, who were they to question it?

TWENTY-TWO

sweet tea in the summer, cross my heart won’t tell no other, and though i can’t recall your face i still got love for you, pack your dolls and a sweater, we’ll move to india forever … passed down like folk songs our love last so long

It’s Friday night and the Fourth of July. y/n has been cleaning the apartment all day, needing everything to be perfect. Everyone lived busy lives now, but they were coming tonight to celebrate. She even decorated. A few balloons tied to chairs and red, white, and blue streamers hanging from the doorway.

She hears the front door opening but doesn’t look up from the counter she was wiping down.

“Are you still cleaning? It’s just the pogues y/n, relax.”

“I know,” She says, folding the last blanket and placing it on the edge of the couch “I just want it to be nice. It’s all going to be so different soon.”

There’s a beat of silence and a bittersweet tension hanging in the air.

“Why are you home so late?” She asks, changing the subject quickly.

He lifts the grocery bag in his hand, “beer” he says simply.

She rolls her eyes. “JJ, we have plenty of beer.”

She starts walking towards the kitchen and JJ trails behind her, pulling the pack of beer out of the bag.

“Oh y/n, you can never have too much beer.” He places the pack in the fridge and then starts taking out a few more items.

“Plus, we can’t do the fourth without our favorite.”

She smiles at the contents on the counter, “how could I forget the s’mores?”

JJ turns back to her and puts his hands on her shoulders.

“Because you’re in overdrive, and stressing yourself out. Go take a nap before they get here. You’ve been up all day and I know you had a late night, you’re tired.”

“No, I was going to make some snacks and -” She protests.

“You don’t need to make anything, Kie said she’s bringing dinner from The Wreck.”

“Well, what about the fireworks?”

“John B has it covered”

“What about -”

JJ cuts her off again, “everything is done y/n, we’re ready for tonight. Go rest.”

She pulls him in, wrapping her arms around him.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

She looks up at him, admiring him for a moment. It was something she caught herself doing often, and if he noticed he never commented on it.

College had been kind to JJ. Once he got a handle on it he thrived in the freedom of it. They were coming up on a year since graduation, and JJ had since shed his childlike habits. He was still himself, the light of the party and loud and still sometimes impulsive but underneath it all, he was a man now. It was evident in the way he carried himself now, broader and more confident. He took his life seriously and was happy to do so.

She smiles up at him, “I’ll take a nap if you come with me.” And when she looks at him with those eyes of hers, JJ simply cannot resist.

“Okay, come on.”

They walk over to the couch, JJ picks up the blanket and unravels it before laying down.

“JJ! I just folded that.” She says, slightly irritated but laying down nearly on top of him anyways.

He only rolls his eyes at the comment, dropping the blanket over them and wrapping his arms around her, y/n melting into him as soon as he does.

Minutes of silence pass, and JJ thinks she’s fallen asleep until she speaks up.

“Are we sure about this?”

“y/n, we’ve spent months talking about this. I promise you we’re doing the right thing, okay?”

She sighs, knowing deep down that he was right, so she lets herself relax and catch up on the much-needed sleep.

-------

Hours later and the night has finally begun. They’re all sitting in the living room, chatting. JJ and y/n exchange a look, and they know it’s time. 

“Alright guys, we have something to tell you all.” Her smile is spreading, but she still turns to JJ for reassurance. He takes her hand in his and the pair turn back to the group.

“We’re moving.” They both spit out at the same time. 

The other four drop their mouths in shock, it wasn’t the news they thought they were getting, but it was still enough of a bomb to catch them completely off guard. 

But the speechless shock only lasts a brief moment before they start bombarding the pair with questions.

“Okay, okay!” y/n shouts, trying to calm all the voices talking over each other. 

“San Francisco, California. That’s where we’re going. I got a job offer and JJ found a few places hiring where he can teach surfing lessons.”

Kiara and Sarah are nearly jumping from excitement, pulling her into a hug. 

“y/n, that’s amazing!” 

“Congrats, baby!” 

“When do you have to be there?” 

y/n’s smile drops and she pulls away. 

“Well, that's the thing…” She starts, glancing towards JJ again, and that’s when he steps in. 

“Our lease for here is up at the end of this month anyway …” 

“You’re moving across the country in less than a month?” 

“We didn’t think it was going to move this fast but things just seemed to line up that way…” 

...

After the excitement and explanation, they’ve migrated into two separate groups, the boys still lingering in the living room. 

“So that’s not the announcement we thought we were getting tonight,” Pope says, nudging JJ. 

JJ looks at him confused, “what do you mean?” He asks. 

“He means,” John starts, sitting up, “when are you gonna ask y/n to marry you?” 

JJ nearly chokes on his drink at that, even spitting a bit of it out. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asks, “we’re not even dating.” 

The other two glance at each other for a moment before back at him.

“What?” 

“What?” The other two echo back, just as confused. 

“And I thought two of my best friends moving across the country was going to be the biggest news of the night,” John says, taking a swig from his beer. 

“What have you two been doing the past five years then?” Pope asks.

“We’re just … She’s my best friend, you guys know that.” 

“But aren’t you guys more than that?” John asks. “You know, you could have told us you’ve been dating since high school and we’d believe it. You really aren’t together?” 

JJ shakes his head, trying to explain what he doesn’t fully understand himself. 

“No, not like that. We’re just… we’re JJ and y/n. Like we’ve always been.” 

The other two share a small laugh. 

“What?” The blonde asks.

“It was never JJ and y/n,” Pope answers. “It was always jjandy/n.”

“Have you guys really never?” He pries. “... At all? Anything? This whole time? Have you talked about it ever?” Pope continues as JJ shakes his head.

“No… we haven’t, we’ve never had to. I just know I’m always going to have her, and she’s always going to have me. We’ve never questioned or talked about how or in what way.”

“But what are you going to do if she meets someone? If you meet someone? Will you move out? Do you two even know how to function without the other?” Pope spits the questions out at a rapid-fire, genuinely curious.

“Of course, we can function without each other, we aren’t codependent.” JJ sighs, taking a breath, “I don’t know what’s going to happen if we meet people, we’ve never had that problem. She’s never mentioned guys past a hook up so I don’t know.”

“And what about you? What if you meet a girl?”

“I don’t know! Good god, what’s with the third degree?”

“You’ve seriously never thought about the future?” John presses. 

“Not in, that sense I guess.”

“Okay, here, close your eyes. Don’t give me that look, come on just close them.”

JJ rolls his eyes but does as he’s asked. 

“Okay, now, imagine yourself five, maybe even ten years from now. What do you see?”

“I don’t know… I just - I just see y/n.” 

…

In the kitchen, Kiara and Sarah are giving y/n a similarly hard time, although it seems to be phasing her a little less. 

“You know we totally thought the two of you were going to tell us that you were finally engaged, right?” 

y/n rolls her eyes at Sarah, jumping up onto the counter to sit, “I’ve told you guys, we aren’t even dating. I don’t know where you keep getting that.” 

“Still?” Sarah nearly shouts, “You guys still aren’t dating?” 

“Ha!” Kiara cuts in before y/n can reply, “You owe me ten bucks.” 

“Oh, so you guys are betting on us now?” 

“Sarah’s betting.” Kiara says, “I’m making a profit.”

The other two are still standing, leaning against the counter inches away from y/n.  

“What have the two of you been doing this whole time?” Sarah starts asking. “I thought for sure after we graduated college the two of you would finally get together.” 

“They’re their own thing, Sarah, I keep trying to tell you.”

“But you guys are basically together, aren’t you? Is it just a ‘we don’t want to put a label on it’ thing?” Sarah presses.

“No, we aren’t together romantically at all. As I’ve said, I don’t know why it’s so shocking to everyone whenever I remind you.” 

“But do you want to be?” Kiara asks, shifting the tone of the conversation a bit. 

“I don’t know.” She says quietly, thinking it over. 

“I mean, Sarah is right you guys have been together for, well your whole lives really. You guys are moving across the country together. The two of you are pretty much starting your lives together. What if he brings someone home? What if you meet someone?” 

y/n just shrugs, starting to feel the tingling of emotions. 

“To be honest with you, I don’t like to think about it. I mean I’ve dated here and there, and I know JJ has too but it never became anything serious for either of us.” 

That day on the beach all those years ago had been enough to hold her over. The thought of always being together in some way, but now that they were getting older and a new part of life was starting, would that hold true? 

“I just know I want him in my life.” She continues, “I mean, I think part of me always did think that maybe we’d end up together but… I don’t know I just, I guess I just want to make sure we’re together because we want to be, not because we’re all we’ve ever known. Sometimes I get scared that we’re holding each other back, that there’s something or someone we’re missing out on.” 

She looks back up at the two girls, shaking her head at her emotions that seem to be building up. 

“But most of all I just want him to be happy you know? I need to be prepared if it’s not with me. I guess I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m saying.” 

Sarah places a hand on y/n’s shoulder comfortingly. 

“No, we get it. I think a lot of this is just anxiety from the move, from this big life change coming up. I can tell you, the one thing that’s never going to change is you and JJ. You guys are absolutely not holding each other back. Trust me, one of us would have said something if we were worried.” 

“You can’t see it from the outside.” Kiara jumps in. “It’s not always bad to have someone like you have JJ. Never once have either of you held each other back. You’ve always brought out the best in him and he’s always brought out the best in you.” 

“You really think so?” She asks, looking between the both of them. 

They both nod, pulling the girl into a group hug best they can, just as the boys are walking back in from the living room. 

“Hey!” JJ immediately shouts, walking over to the three girls. “Which one of you made my y/n cry?” 

Sarah wordlessly moves from her side and next to Kiara, making space next to y/n for JJ to slide into, sending a look to Kiara at the words my y/n while doing so. 

“Kiara was telling me a story about work.” y/n says quickly. “You know how I get about the turtles.” 

“Oh yes,” He says, lifting a hand and wiping away the few tears, “that would explain it.” 

“What about you boys?” She asks, nodding at Pope and John as well, “What were you all gossiping about, huh?” 

“John was telling me all about the fireworks he brought. You ready to go light ‘em up?” 

She jumps down from the counter excitedly. 

“Yes, let’s go!” She says, grabbing the large plate that contained chocolate and graham crackers in one hand and a large bag of marshmallows and skewers in the other. 

The rest of them follow the pair out, watching as JJ takes the plate from y/n so she doesn’t have her hands full. 

“Okay,” Sarah says, “I’d put money on a year from now.” 

“Oh my god, Sarah,” Kiara says, giving her a playful shove. 

The rest of the night is good, y/n makes sure to take a moment to let it sink in, all their smiles and all their laughs. 

They set off fireworks, and sparklers, throw poppers at each other’s feet, watch the boys run from one another with roman candles in hand, and JJ and y/n eat their weight in s’mores. The night runs longer than intended, especially since the girls decided to bring the alcohol back out. 

Finally, long after the night has settled and everyone has lingered for as long as they can, the group starts to say goodbye to each other. Dishes and trash are brought back inside, excess fireworks and belongings collected, and goodbyes dragged out until JJ and y/n are left in their apartment.

y/n lets out a long sigh, feeling the night and the drinks and the reality of them leaving catch up to her. It felt a lot more real now that they had told their closest friends. 

JJ notices her lingering by the door and tugs her gently on the arm. 

“Hey, you wanna sleep with me tonight?” 

She nods silently, a grateful smile on her lips. 

“Go change and meet me in there, okay?” 

She moves a little bit slower than usual, weighed down by exhaustion, doing the bare minimum to get ready for bed, simply changing her clothes and brushing her teeth lazily before pulling her hair up and walking to JJ’s room. 

He’s just climbing into bed and she follows without hesitation, curling into him. She thinks about how easy it is with JJ, or maybe natural is the better word. Everything just is with him. 

He notices the way she’s holding his hand tightly and to her chest.

“Hey,” he starts softly, “you know if … if you’re second guessing this whole move, just say it and we’ll stay. Or… just tell me and I’ll stay.” 

“No,” she says quickly, holding him even tighter now. “It’s not that…” She pauses, trying to gather her words and her courage. 

“It’s just, you know that I love you, right? But do you know that I love you?” 

JJ thinks he can’t breathe and worries for a second that his heart beating as fast as it is can’t be healthy. He wonders for a moment if he’s already fallen asleep and if this is all just a dream. 

Because this is the moment he’s been waiting for his whole life.

“I’m starting my life with you. Moving all the way across the country… away from our home, our family, and our best friends. But the thing is, as hard as I know it’s going to be … I don’t care. Because I’ll be with you, JJ. I’ll have you. I don’t want anything else. Anyone else. I never have.” 

It’s more of a confirmation than anything else.

There’s a moment of silence, and she holds her breath. Then another, while JJ tries to find his words. His mind races, processing her precious words. Pieces of their life together flash through his mind.

He’s crying before he can stop himself, overwhelmed.

“Just… come here.” He says desperately, pulling her in and locking her into his hold. 

“You’re going to make me cry.” She says, muffled in his chest. 

If it was anyone else, maybe the tears would be alarming. She would’ve read the situation differently, and taken it as a rejection. 

But it was JJ. And tonight is more of a confirmation than a confession. 

He pulls her even closer, tightens his grip in hopes of emphasizing his words, and just how much he means it. 

“I never told you outright, but you had to have known, right?… that it was always going to be you? I’ve never been good with my words but I hope I’ve shown you. I hope you’ve felt it this whole time. How important you are to me. How much I love you.” 

She escapes his grip, pulling away only so she can see his face. 

“I have never felt anything but loved by you JJ.” 

And then JJ blacks out he thinks. Or maybe it was just a mind-numbing rush of adrenaline. Or maybe it was natural instinct that had been lying dormant this whole time, just waiting for the right moment. 

Because one second he was staring at her glossy eyes, and the next his lips had found hers. 

Finally. 

It’s soft and slightly desperate, dizzying and intoxicating. 

A sensation that both of them had been the feeling they had simply been waiting for their whole lives. 

They only break away to relieve the burning in their lungs. 

“Say it,” she begs softly, a little out of breath and a little drunk on JJ. 

His mind is in a haze, a smile still adorning his lips as he tries to get back to hers. “I love you.” 

“No,” She says, pulling on him to get as close as possible, “the other one. Tell me again.” 

He doesn’t even hesitate, knowing what she means in an instant. 

“You’re my Saturn, y/n.” 

She smiles into his chest, “again.” 

His hand finds her cheek, guiding her face to look up at him. 

“You are my Saturn.” 

“Never stop saying it?” 

He kisses her again, then pulls her back into his side, tucking her into the spot that she’s always belonged in. 

“Never.” 

[sassylegshayne]

marry me, idiot. - chapter six

this chapter is so sweet and domestic I hope you guys enjoy, I love it sm!! lmk what you think mwah xx 🫶💓 3.5k words!!

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You and Spencer groaned simultaneously as the two of you left the Smosh office after another very long, wedding themed day. You'd started off the morning by shooting for the Reddit series, reacting to a load of wedding themed stories that Shayne read. It ran for longer than planned, as shoots with the three of your tend to; it was nearly two hours later that the three of you moved to the next set.

Kiana loved your idea for the TNTL wedding party gauntlet and gave it the go ahead. She appeared for both sides, Spencer and you unwilling to cave and let the other claim your shared best friend. Shayne did the same, sitting through the first round with Spencer's team, but as the last person was set to appear, he went out as CFM.

Your team ended up losing early on when Spencer's team pretended to be male strippers, each in a different costume, hired for your bridal party.

Lisa screamed and shook her head from her stool beside you as lan stood before her, rubbing his chest hair after he unbuttoned his floral button up. You tried your best to hold it in as the sole survivor of your team but caved when Spencer approached you in the rodent stume, twirling the tail around.

"That feels like it's gonna be a HR nightmare, Lisa, I'm so sorry." You laughed, wiping your mouth.

The final stretch was here, once you two had picked your bridal parties, shooting began, again. You two had decided it best to keep it within the realms of Smosh, excluding your family and other friends. It didn't really matter, you were only getting fake married.

There'd be a real wedding in the future. What? What the fuck? Would there be? You and Spencer had spent the last nine months in a secretive, blissful fog together. You'd spent the same amount of time together, just some small things changed.

You had been so wrapped up in the planning of the fake wedding recently, Kiana helping as best as she could with her own busy schedule. It felt like every moment you weren't shooting, editing, or sleeping, you were ordering a cake, ordering decorations, booking the chapel.

The stress around every other part of your relationship had blinded you, not thinking for a moment about what you two would actually become after you wed.

Spencer is about two shirts away from moving his entire closet in with yours; you were just around the corner from asking him to move in, as soon as the timing was right.

You learned just how deeply of a boob-man Spencer is, he didnt keep his hands off of you behind closed doors, and his hands liked to wander. You never complained, you missed out on years worth of love for each other, you're allowed to make up for lost time.

Somehow you two had actually managed to grow closer, if it's even possible. You'd already been attached at the hip, but Spencer began spending almost every night with you, much to Criag's dismay.

Their relationship continued on the steady path it seemed to always stay on. They avoided each other, then followed each other, then spent time together, and the cycle would begin again.

Your cat and your boyfriend were slowly beginning to learn to co-exist.

You and Spencer had established that you're a couple, you're dating, you're actually engaged and will be getting married, but as a joke. But neither of you had thought about what would come after that?

Not once in the last nine months had the thought crossed either of your minds until now. As you walked out of the office door, hands locked together, it dawns on you.

Your wedding was just over a month and a half away and you had no clue where your relationship would stand after you got married. What a fucked up situation you were in.

Spencer tugged on your hand softly, pulling you to a halt just before you reach his car. He grins as he spins you slowly, tugging you into his embrace as soon as you face him.

You couldn't help but grin as you resting your head on his shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips pressed gently against your forehead.

"You gota lot on your mind?" Spencer spoke softly, his hands trailing gently up and down your back as you nod.

"I'm kinda stressin, dude." You replied, laughing softly. The squeaking of hinges in the distance sends you jumping back a bit, hand placed to your chest.

Spencer couldn't hold in his laughter as the loud parking garage door constantly startled you. You shoved his shoulder gently, blushing as you passed him, waiting impatiently at the car door.

"Stop pouting, your face is gonna get stuck like that." You rolled your eyes, flipping him the finger as the doors finally unlocked.

You talked about your dinner plans, settling on ordering in, the both of you were far too tired to cook.

When you arrived home, you were quick to scoop your meowing cat into your arms. You pecked Spencer quickly, carrying your purring kitty down the hall as you entered into your bedroom.

Craig was quick to dismiss you, springing from your arms and onto your mattress, settling himself on Spencer's pillow.

You praised your cat quietly, rubbing his head gently before you began to gather a few things.

Kimmy and Courtney had gifted you a massive basket full of different self-care itemsa few weeks ago.

Kimmy had presented it to you, claiming that you'd need these more the closer the wedding got. You gratefully accepted the gift, so overwhelmed that anyone was treating this as if it were real, and amazed with how sweet your friends are.

You had dismissed her warning before, but as you found yourself so close, so much planning still left to do or finalize, a night to yourself sounded amazing.

The thought was entertained for days, the idea of coming home and not having to concern yourself with the wedding for a few hours became more appealing each day.

Spencer had laughed softly when you brought it up to him the night before as you two laid in bed. You rested your head on his chest, fingers balled around the fabric of his shirt as you listened to his steady heartbeat.

"Spencer?" You whispered, afraid you'd procrastinated too much and that he'd fallen asleep already.

"Y/N?" He finally spoke back after a moment. Hus voice was raspy with sleep as he adamantly denied being woken up, trying to keep from upsetting you. You would profusely apologize if he admitted it.

You laid out your plan, detailing what you wanted to do for the night with every last detail, down to the face mask you were going to use. Your cheeks grew warm, the pink invisible to Spencer in your dark room as he chuckled, nodding along.

He pulled the covers tighter, shifting after he kissed the top of your head. "Okay, baby:" Spencer spoke, resting his chin atop your head as he shut his eyes, feeling your shoulders relax as you sighed.

He slowly wrapped his arms around you, peppering your face with more pecks and kisses as you giggle, squirming in his grip. Spencer slowed his assault, trailing his lips to meet yours, melting into a fevw sweet, chaste kisses.

He knew in his gut that something was wrong, you hadn't been this stressed before. You had a lot on your plate and Spencer was more than ready to help whenever you were ready to ask.

You found yourself to be much more excited than you expected as you dug through the goodies. You pulled out a few lotions, setting aside your favorite scent alongside the matching body wash.

You quickly made your way into your bathroom, grinning at Spencer as you passed by him in the living room.

"Should order now or later?" He called out, leaning over the backside of the couch to glance into the open bathroom doorway. Spencer couldn't help the giddy feeling inside of him as he caught a glimpse of you removing your shirt.

No matter how many times Spencer sees you undressed, he's always this excited. You two had accidentally seen each other naked a fewW times before you got together, and many times on purpose since, but it was different now. Every kiss gave him butterflies, and everytime he sees you naked, he practically turns into a thirteen year old.

He realized quickly what is was that had shifted. You were his now, you gave him the freedom to roam, learning every little detail about your body, and Spencer realized that he didn't want anybody touching you like he did.

It wasn't so much of a protectiveness, but moreso because he wanted to be the one to touch you for the rest of your life and his. He'd absolutely fallen for you all over again, and it felt like it was becoming a daily occurrence.

The most intimate moments with you were so much better than he'd ever imagined. It felt like you two were made for each other in every sense of the word. He told you that he loved you constantly, but showing you was was better, and moaning it in your ear was the best.

Having you in his life felt like a gift, a privilege he would cherish forever, grateful that the stars aligned or whatever it may be that brought you to him. Spencer was way beyond head over heels.

You call out to him, but it falls on deaf ears as you shimmy out of your bottoms, your back to the living room as your boyfriend remains quiet.

"What? I can't hear you?" Spencer finally calls out to you. He had gotten lost in his thoughts, your voice mumbled as he looked back toward the bathroom.

You sigh as you unclasp your bra, a grin across his cheeks as it hits the tile floor, looking over your shoulder again. Your eyes meet your boyfriend's, the blue now your favorite color, as a blush spreads across your cheeks, finally catching him staring at you.

Spencer sits on the edge of the couch, his leg bouncing as he held his phone tightly, his cheeks now tinged pink. "Come here, I didn't catch that." He felt like a kid on Christmas morning as he heard your feet patter across the floor.

You huffed, one hand pressed to your chest as your previously discarded shirt barely covered your chest, your other hand posed on your hip as you gave Spencer a playful glare.

"Happy?" Spencer laughed, resting his hands on your hips as you slipped the shirt back over your head, tugging you into his lap. The two of you held each other, enjoying the stillness and silence until a figure jumps behind Spencer, causing you to jump as well.

A chuckle rumbled through Spencer's chest as a meow echoed from your cat, earning a glare from you as he perched around your boyfriend's neck. The two of them shared a habit of startling you.

"Order later, let me take a shower real quic-" Spencer shook his head, silencing you as your brow furrowed.

"No need to rush, take your time. I'll order whenever you want." He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, but you weren't ready to part. You trailed after him, pecking his lips quickly, hand tangling gently in his hair as the other rested on his chest.

Spencer groaned softly as your teeth sunk gently into his bottom lip, his fingertips digging into the soft skin of your bare bottom. After a few moments you feel Spencer's hands wandering under your shirt, excitement building inside of you rapidly.

Your mood dissolves quickly as your hip stings lightly, Spencer snapping the waistband against you as he pulls back slowly, a smug look on his face. You glare at him playfully, lightly punching his shoulder before your press your forehead to his, smiling.

"Go, get in the shower." He squeezes your thighs gently as you pout, unwilling to remove yourself from his lap. "Go relax, we've got the rest of our lives to spend together."

You felt a strange pressure settling in your chest at his words, your thoughts once more weighing heavy on your mind and heart.

Spencer was quick to notice the small movements you make, the twitching of your fingertips as your smile falters ever so slightly. No one could notice these tiny shifts like Spencer could.

You sigh softly, pressing a final peck to his lips before you rise from his lap. You lean over him, smiling as you scratch under Craig's chin before slipping back into the bathroom.

Spencer finally released a breath he didn't realized he'd be holding as the pipes squeak, indicating that you'd started your shower. Something was off, but he knew way better than to pry. You would come to him as soon as you were ready.

It isn't how you used to handle your problems before you started dating, but now that you

You were around each other so often, your conflict resolutions had shifted. You liked to take your time thinking over exactly how you wanted to Word everything, every answer to any question he may have.

So he'd sit on the couch, and he'd let you relax. Tonight probably wasn't the night, judging by your reaction.

You tried your best to melt away your stress with the hot water, hoping your anxieties could rinse down the drain as you shampoo your hai. You follow your own, and Spencer's, demands and take your sweet time, your phone softly playing music from the bathroom counter.

You pull on a shirt of Spencer's that you've You go through your skin care routine for the first time in a while, a thin layer of dust atop your lotion bottle.

You set it aside, mentally chastising yourself over your lack of regularity. You pull yourself on to the bathroom counter, crossing your legs as you stared at your freshly washed face in the mirror.

You sat in the small room for a while, taking your time applying a facemask as you thought over just how to approach this weird relationship.

Spencer wandered down the hall after placing the order for your pizzas, furrowing his brow with a small chuckle as he glances into the bathroom, the door still open.

You grin at him in the mirror as best as you can, the mask drying quickly and pulling your skin tightly. You spun around, motioning Spencer to join you. He stood between your legs, resting his hands on your thighs. "Do I get pre-wedding selfcare, too?"

"Of course you do, sweetheart. It's very important."' You quipped as you grabbeda headband, allowing him to push his hair out of his face.

"Ya know what?" You spoke quietly as you began applying the mask to him. He hissed as the cold, thick, cucumber scented mask swiped across his cheek, unhappy with the feeling. "I'm glad you're growing out your hair again. liked the buzz cut, but the curls suit you. You're very babygirl."

Spencer was thankful for the mask as it hid his brightly colored cheeks. Once you had read one comment where someone called Spencer that a few years back, it sparked something. had been quite a while since the last time you'd brought it up, he almost missed it.

"I am not babygirl." He protests, his nails dragging softly against your skin as he lets his hands wander your exposed thighs. You smile as much as your mask would allow, giggling when Spencer gives you a confused look, wincing as the mask cracks.

His fingertips trail under the hem of your shorts as you squirm a bit, his light touch tickling your skin. Spencer attempts to grin at you as he tugs you closer, pressed up against you as you lazily Wrap your legs around his waist.

You grab a makeup wipe and clean around your boyfriend's eyes and lips before nodding curtly. "All done, now you gotta sit around and wait." You pressed a peck to his lips, quickly dissolving into a fit of giggles as Spenc refused to let you pull away. He kept peppering your lips with soft pecks in between your laughter.

"Spence." You huffed, whining softly as he finally halting his actions, still laughing as he tried his best to stifle it.

"I have something kinda serious I wanna talk about, you dick." Spencer took a deep breath, trying to take you as seriously as he could with the cracked green mask coating your face. He finally gets his giggles under control, nodding to you, encouraging you to begin.

"Okay, so we're dating, and kinda engaged, but after the wedding, where we agreed to actually get married, are we still dating or are we married?" You speak quickly, sighing as you finish, eyes filled with worry as Spencer's heart tugs at the thought. That's why you'd been so weird, hed been stressing you out without even knowing it.

Spencer quickly raises his hands to cup your cheeks but stops short as you lean away, giggling as his hands nearly smudge your mask away. He rolls his eyes, placing a quick peck to your lips, wincing as the mask pulled his face taught.

You alarm begins to ring as your boyfriend groans, it felt like everything in your relationship was destined to be interrupted as the door bell rang quickly after. Spencer groaned, catching a glimpse of his own face in the mirror, finally taking in his current state.

"You have to answer the door, I look like Shrek, Y/N." Spencer spoke, taking a step back from you, hoping you'd slip from the counter.

You huff, keeping yourself seated as you hiss back at him jokingly. "I look like Fiona, I'm not going to get it." You argued as the bell rang again, pointing your finger towards the front door.

Spencer huffed, rolling his eyes as he trudged down the hall. "At least Fiona's hot, no one wanted to fuck the ogre." He mumbled under his breath as he approached the door, shooing off Craig as he waited to pounce on whoever may be standing outside of the apartment.

You quickly grab a washcloth, rinsing the mask from your face, quickly applying your lotion after. You take a deep breath, smiling at your reflection as you admire the glow on your skin.

Spencer returned to you after a few minutes, his face deadpan as he stood in the doorway. "Dude laughed, the guy saw my self care and laughed in my face. That sucked."

You bit back a laugh as you grab the washrag once more, slowly removing the green from your boyfriend face. Spencer was quick to steal your lotion,

You mirror him, grinning before you usher him out of the small space, the smell of greasy pizza hitting your nose. You quickly dart around Spencer, giggling as you grab the pizza box from the counter.

You settle into the couch, smiling at Spencer's before sitting beside you.

The two of you wordlessly dig in, Spencer rolling his eyes as you refuse his offer of a plate again.

think that we have to decide together what we become after the wedding. I mean, I don't care what title we put on our relationship because I'm yours no matter what." Spencer spoke softly, his eyes on yours as he smiled reassuringly.

You nodded your head, chewing your lip as you mulled over the idea. You leaned forward, swiping a bit of sauce off of your boyfriend's cheek. "You're right, and agree. I mean. it may be a bit soon to get married for a normal relationship, but.."

Spencer laughed as you gestured between the two of you. You two had built a wonderful relationship full of love despite taking the strangest route to get here.

"Move in with me." You said before taking another bite, offering him nothing else as you smiled sweetly.

"Alright." Spence chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. He never thought a relationship could be so easy; the two of you just decided to get married, for real, and move in together within a few minutes.

It warmed Spencer's heart to think about how quickly his life had changed, and how much more it would in the next few months.

[halfbakedideas]

i can hold my breath, i've been doing it since he left

After Aziraphale leaves, Crowley does a lot of waiting. And drinking.

Notes:

EDIT: changed the title from 'curse the wind, fan the flames, yell 'till your lungs are drained' (Quiet Company by Jack Harris).

CW for alcohol and a character being drunk. Do I still need to warn for 02x06 spoilers or has it been long enough now? This is essentially just word vomit on one speculation I had for Crowley post-season 2 & written during one of my writing classes. Figured I might as well post this otherwise it’ll just rot in my drive forever.

Read on Ao3

—x—x—x—

Crowley sits slumped over at a bar. Beer cans, whiskey glasses, and even a couple of empty wine glasses forming a barrier around him.

The barkeep had started shooting him worried looks when he finishes a second handle’s worth of whiskey after about three beers and two glasses of wine, and was still (mostly) upright.

It takes a lot of alcohol to get someone of angel stock properly sloshed. But when Crowley has spent more of the last eleven months with some form of alcohol in him than sober, that doesn’t really mean anything.

A glass of red wine rests in his hand, still filled a quarter of the way. He didn’t care enough to know which one when he’d gotten the barkeeper to pour him another glass.

Crowley raises the glass to his lips and takes a swig. A drop of wine traces its way down his chin. He wipes it away with a hand. He nearly knocks an abandoned whiskey glass clean off the table when he sets it down.

“Alright, I think that’s enough for you,” the barkeep speaks up, stepping towards the demon. Her hand is outstretched as if she plans to take the wine glass out of his hands.

“Nuh — not yet, not even drunk yet,” he slurs. He waves a hand in her direction to make her forget about what she had just been about to do and the events of the last two hours too. Whoops.

He drinks some more wine and manages not to spill any of it this time.

By the time the bar closes half an hour later — or is it fifteen minutes? He hats that particular stretch of time: fifteen minutes — Crowley is still upright and on his feet, by the sheer force of a demonic miracle.

‘On his feet’ does not automatically mean ‘able to walk in a straight line’.

The demon makes his way down the street, the path in front of him swimming.

He believes that he is going to make it back to his flat without becoming a serpent-shaped pancake on the pavement, so he would. More or less.

Logically, the smart thing would have been to miracle all of the alcohol out of his bloodstream before he left the bar. But the thought had occurred to him when he first started doing this, and it had been quickly dismissed. He isn’t going to change his mind now, eight months later.

Existence is so much easier to deal with like this; being too drunk to be able to think straight means that he doesn’t have to think. Thinking is overrated anyway.

Surprisingly, this much alcohol in him keeps him from doing something stupid like yelling in the vague direction of the sky. Would he be yelling at Aziraphale or God, he isn’t sure. Or go charging into the elevator to do something phenomenally stupider.

Alcohol certainly makes passing the time easier. Makes it pass quicker. Makes waiting less boring.

That’s what he has been doing for the last eleven months, waiting. Because, after the initial shock and heartbreak wore off, Crowley choose to believe that Aziraphale hasn’t truly abandoned him for Heaven. That he took the Supreme Archangel position because he has a plan, whatever it could be.

He isn’t quite sure what he would do if the opposite turned out to be true.

Die, probably.

So Crowley holds onto that flicker of hope (You’re a demon, demons don’t get to hope. Stop that.) and resigns himself to waiting.

But it is in times like this, the very very early hours of the morning when he is staggering off back to his flat or over to his bed, that hope starts to wane. When the ‘what ifs’ begin to creep in.

What if Aziraphale doesn’t have a plan or isn’t going to come back to Earth (and Crowley) again? What if he stays up there forever? What if the angel has forgotten about him?

He will either find out or spend eternity waiting. Some days he isn’t sure which is worse.

Crowley has just climbed into the Bentley when a flicker of light catches his eye. And there is a see-through version of Aziraphale sitting in the passenger’s seat beside him. Turned towards him slightly with his mouth open as if he’s about to say something.

Not this again.

“Know you’re not really here, so fuck off,” he tells the hallucination.

“Crowley…“ Whatever the hallucination is about to say next gets cut off.

“No. Don’t care. You aren’t real, anyway,”

The Bentley pulls out of the parking space and onto the road. It takes off in the direction of Crowley’s flat faster than an eighty-year-old car should have been able to. Crowley doesn’t see the sad expression that ghosted over the hallucination’s face before it vanishes from the passenger’s seat.

This is something that has started happening whenever the demon thinks too hard about what ifs and Aziraphale, a hallucination of the angel would appear.

When it had first appeared, it scared the wits out of Crowley (not that he would ever admit that to anyone) who had been in the middle of a Golden Girls marathon. He yelled at the hallucination for nearly fifteen whole minutes before he realised he wasn’t yelling at the real Aziraphale. That had made him yell some more, just in the direction of Heaven instead.

The next day plays out much like every day before it had. Crowley wakes to find himself very much, disappointingly sober but with a ridiculous headache. The cure, which he decided upon months ago, was to get up and go drink some more.

It wasn’t like he has much else to do. Hell stopped giving him any assignments after Armageddon’t and stopped communicating with him at all as of eleven months ago.

So all he has left is an indeterminate amount of waiting.

—x—x—x—

End notes:

Is Crowley really hallucinating Aziraphale, or is it something else entirely?

[aninklingof]

Not a Big Deal

Welcome to part 2 of the tickle monster au! 😁 Part 1 here <3

Lee! Sapnap yay ❤️

Warnings: swearing ✨platonic✨

Fanart of the fic at the end!

Enjoy!

~~~~~

It wasn’t just a dream. It couldn’t possibly be, because half a week later Dream continued to be tormented by the monster under his bed every night. At 12 AM on the dot Dream would be woken up by velvety tendrils teasing his poor hypersensitive body, the shadowy being to whom they belonged taunting him while staring down at him with its bright purple glare.

Dream would be forced to endure the tickly torture until the being decided it was full. Sometimes it would only tickle the blonde for an hour, sometimes three. However it never seemed to stay past 4 AM.

Dream was starting to visibly deteriorate from having his sleep interrupted nightly. Sapnap and George began to notice how quiet the taller was, how he seemed more sluggish, and of course the massive purple bags under his eyes.

When the blonde did talk to his two roommates the conversation would always inevitably devolve into Dream swearing up and down that the monster was real and George arguing back that it was simply not possible. The change in dynamic was making Sapnap anxious.

Sapnap wanted to believe it was all merely a recurring night terror, Dream was still only getting worse. Whenever Sapnap or George would even brush past the bigger man he would flinch away with a heartbreaking whimper, like his nerves were shot from whatever he experienced every night.

It was Wednesday after nearly a week that Dream snapped, shouting loudly at George while they had been bickering:

“If you don’t believe me then why don’t you see for yourself?! Spent a night in my bed, you’ll believe me then!!” Dream then stormed off to his room fuming, leaving his half-eaten bowl of cereal forgotten on the table.

George scoffed and muttered something about how Dream was being dramatic and began scrolling on his phone but Sapnap stared down the hall after the older, turning over the words in his head.

The brunette spent all day thinking over what Dream had said until he finally made up his mind. Approaching the blonde’s bedroom door, he knocked softly on the wood.

“Dream?”

“Come in.”

He turned the door handle and opened the door to see Dream staring at his monitor blankly, seemingly editing a video. “Hey Dream.”

“Hi Sap.” He croaked.

Sapnap sat on the edge of Dream’s bed, quickly crossing his legs on the mattress when the thought of the possible monster living under it itched at the back of his brain. After hesitating a moment, he finally spoke.

“I thought about what you’d said this morning,” he started, staring at his hands while he fidgeted nervously.

“Yeah? What about it?” Dream prompted, spinning around to face Sapnap.

“We can… we can swap beds tonight. I’m— I’m worried about you, and if you’re this serious about this… monster… then I’ll spend the night in your room.”

Dream looked like he was about to cry. He quickly leaped out of his chair and hugged Sapnap around the neck, startling the younger man. He blinked and gingerly wrapped his arms around the blonde.

“It’s okay Dream, it’s alright.. it’s not that big of a deal.”

At least that’s what Sapnap hoped.

~

Sapnap opened his eyes to the dimly lit ceiling of Dream’s room. He blinked blearily and turned his head to read the clock on the bedside table: 12:00 AM.

“Well what do we have here?” A deep voice purred, startling Sapnap into full awareness.

The brunette lifted his head off the pillow to look down the foot of the bed, only to see a looming shadowy blob towering above him.

“Wh-What the f-fuck???” Sapnap stuttered.

“You’re not Dream. Perhaps one of his housemates?” The creature pondered, it’s big catlike eyes never blinking as they glared hungrily at the man in the bed.

“N-No, this— this isn’t real,” Sapnap’s voice shook as he began to realize that Dream wasn’t lying— and also that he was stuck to the bed.

“Oh it’s very real,” the being purred. “In fact, allow me to show how real I am.”

Many long shadowy tentacles unfurled from the creature and crept towards Sapnap’s vulnerable body. Sapnap simply struggled and watched in terror, cursing himself for choosing to sleep shirtless.

At the first stroke against the brunette’s body, he knew he was going to die. The velvety texture of the tentacles against his bare skin sent shockwaves of tickles through his whole body, and it was intense.

“Wahahahahait!!! Wahahahait plehehehease!!!” He cackled, squirming left and right as dozens of tendrils explored his upper body. “Wehehehe cahahahan tahahahalk ahahahabout thihihihis!!”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing to talk about. Laugh for me, tickle toy~”

Unbearable tickling invaded Sapnap’s underarms and threw the poor man into hysterics. “WHAHAHAHA WAHAHAIT NOHOHOHO!!! GEHEHEHET OHOHOHOUTTA THEHEHEHERE!! FUHUHUHUCK!!”

Tears pricked the corners of Sapnap’s eyes, it was so much. Tentacles tickled his armpits, ribs and eventually his thighs ruthlessly. His chest ached with how hard he was laughing— how hadn’t he woken up Dream and George yet?

“You’re quite ticklish, and I thought Dream was sensitive!” The creature teased, his low rumbling voice worsening the electric tingles that flooded his system.

“PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAP!! FUHUHUHUCK, IHIHIHIT TIHIHIHICKLES!!”

~

The next morning Dream awoke feeling relieved. He hadn’t been tormented in the middle of the night, and it was refreshing to get a full uninterrupted night of sleep.

He left Sapnap’s room and headed to the kitchen, but as he walked past his door it opened and out walked a disheveled and exhausted-looking Sapnap.

The brunette looked up at Dream with bloodshot eyes, taking a long time to seemingly process the man in front of him, before finally he spoke.

“We need a fucking exorcist or some shit.”

~~~~~