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[imaginespazzi]

Part 10: The Bridges Burned Around Us

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9

Be good to me, and I'll be good to you (but please don't be too good to be true)

(In which an apologetic writer finally finishes a chapter that took much longer than necessary)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff and Angst

Words: 10.2K (seems fitting for chapter 10 lol)

TW: Swearing

A/N: Hello my lovelies :) I am so incredibly late with this I know but considering it's really the length of two chapters, I think I should be forgiven. Despite how long this took me, I don't really know how I feel about this chapter because it's both filler but also pretty important so honestly it does feel a little all over the place. But I hope y'all like it anyways. I do suggest quickly skimming over Part 2 before you read this just to jog your memory a little bit. I did edit as I always do but there's probably typos/mistakes, so feel free to point those out. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a wonderful weekend my loves <3

May 2033

“What the hell Bueckers?” Coach yells, glaring daggers at Paige who has the audacity to at least look a little embarrassed as she reaches a hand to help the rookie she’d just knocked over with far too much unnecessary force. Azzi narrows her eyes at the scene, confused at Paige’s atypical behavior. It wasn’t uncommon for the vets to rib the rookies a little bit, hell they had a whole ragging initiation ceremony planned for this weekend to welcome the newest members of their team, but Paige seemed to have a personal vendetta against Angie Davis.

When they’d watched the draft together, Azzi could’ve seen sworn she’d seen a flash of uncomfortableness flicker in Paige’s eyes as the commissioner announced that the Valkyries, with their third pick acquired via Atlanta, were picking Angie Davis from Stanford University. The blonde had stiffened but only for a split second and Azzi had chalked it up to nothing because really, what beef could Paige possibly have with a 22 year old? Except clearly something was bothering the Minnesota native because this is the fifth time today itself that Paige has fouled the girl so hard that her body had almost slightly bounced as it hit the floor. 

The first time, everyone had found it amusing because who didn’t laugh at a rookie getting a taste of the league. The second time, Coach had rolled her eyes but the rest of the team had still found it pretty funny. And then as it continued, Azzi could tell her teammates were just as confused by Paige’s behavior as she was. They might not know the blonde as well as Azzi did, but in the last month or so they’d discover that the basketball superstar was really just a ball of golden retriever energy. Since they’d started training camp recently, they’d seen that Paige always practiced hard but she also had the time of her life doing it. They’d seen that she might practically bulldoze her teammates in her eagerness to be a good defender but she’d always be the first one to help pick them up with a teasing grin on her face right after. Except apparently not with Angie. With Angie, there was nothing but brute force and the first couple of times, before Coach’s clear irritation had started to seep onto her face, Paige hadn’t even bothered helping the rookie up. And although Azzi would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that a part of her found this aggressive display of strength just a tad bit attractive, she also knew it was completely unlike her Paige to be acting like this. 

“So,” she says softly, lowering her voice purposefully as she sidles up to Paige in the locker room after practice, “are we going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” there’s a smirk on Paige’s face as she takes a step closer towards Azzi. 

The brunette narrows her eyes, “you know what.”

“What I know,” Paige whispers as she ghosts her hands across Azzi’s hips, keeping her movement innocuous as to not alert their other teammates who are engrossed in conversation not too far away from them, “is that I’m pretty sure you’re just looking for a way to get close to me.” 

“You’re so fucking full of yourself,” but she can’t stop the faint blush that’s creeping up  her cheeks as Paige’s hot breath fans across her face and her gaze shifts to the blonde’s sweat sheened biceps that are on fully display under her flimsy tank top. 

Paige notices it immediately as her smirk widens, “appreciating the view baby?”

“Shut up,” Azzi shoves her back lightly, “don’t try and distract me.”

“‘I’m not even trying. I just have that effect on you,” Paige shrugs coyly as she pushes herself back into Azzi’s space.

The brunette’s eyes dart over to her teammate for a brief second, making sure the rest of them are still occupied with their own conversations as she takes her own step towards the blue-eyed woman, the edges of her lips turning up into a smug grin when she hears Paige’s breath hitch, “and what about the effect I have on you?”

There’s something thrilling about hiding this from their team, something sexy about having to keep their hands to themselves when they’re constantly desperate to touch. It was torture in a way, having Paige so close and not being able to kiss her or hold her. But that only meant that when Azzi did finally get to do all of those things, it felt like finally coming up for air; like after being deprived of her oxygen for so long, she could finally breathe. 

Last time around, they’d kept it a secret from the world but everyone who meant something to them had known. Their old teammates for one. This time, especially since they hadn’t quite defined what this was, they’d chosen to keep it even closer to their chests. It had been Paige’s idea this time and Azzi thinks maybe she’d proposed it just to beat the brunette to the punch-maybe she’d even been a little disappointed by it- but she thinks that they probably do need a little more time; a little more time to trust that this time they wouldn’t go up in flames, that they wouldn’t burn everyone else around them. 

“You don’t- you don’t have any effect on me,” Paige stutters. 

“Is that right?” Azzi asks coyly, taking her shirt off at a ridiculous slow pace, enjoying the way blonde’s eyes are immediately drawn towards her toned abs, “none at all?” 

“N-no,” Paige gulps as she watches the brunette finally get rid of the offending t-shirt and she’s left in nothing but a sports bra that does little to hide the curves underneath. 

“Appreciating the view baby?”  Azzi smirks, repeating the older woman’s words from before she slyly runs her index finger across the purplish red hues of a hickey Paige had left on her collarbone from the night before. 

“You’re so-”

“Bueckers,” a loud voice interrupts Paige’s groan as the two of them spring apart, everyone in the room turning to look at their Coach leaning against the doorframe, “in my office. Now.”

It feels a little bit like they’re college students being reprimanded again but there’s this nagging intuition in Azzi’s gut, as she watched Paige sheepishly follow Coach into her office, that she’s missing out on some important information. Something churns in her stomach at the thought of it. Things had been near perfect so far; they were climbing back up to what they had been, maybe climbing their way to something better but Azzi thinks that if another gust of circumstance tries to shove them down again, they might not be able to get back up this time. Because this time, they’re not climbing alone. This time, they have Stephie and at the end of the day, she’s all that matters. 

“So is Paige’s car broken or something?” Tessa’s question catches Azzi off guard as she shakes herself out of head and looks at her teammate with confusion. 

“Uh no why?”

“I mean it’s just every time she shows up somewhere, it seems she’s in your car, with you. So I just figured something must be up with her car, why else would y’all be carpooling literally every single day unless-” there’s a sparkle in Tessa’s eyes as she leans casually against her locks, “unless there’s another reason?”

“What other reason could there be?” Azzi’s voice is unusually high-pitched as she avoids Tessa’s perceptive eyes and instead glares daggers at a spluttering Jana, “her car’s in the shop. That’s it. That’s definitely it. That’s the only reason I’m driving her around.”

“Aw that sucks,” Laila says with an oblivious empathetic smile, “I mean we could help out if that’s the case? With carpooling.”

“I don’t think-”

“What a lovely idea Phelia,” Tessa smirks and Azzi knows just by how guileful it is, that the former Gamecock is absolutely onto them, “what do you think Azzi? Maybe we can make a little chart for who drives Paige to practice huh? Be welcoming to our teammate?”

Resisting the urge to flip off both Tessa and Jana whose shoulders are shaking with laughter, Azzi settles on a sugary sweet smile instead, “I don’t think that’s necessary-”

“Oh we’d be happy to help,” Tessa chirps happily and Azzi’s suddenly wistful for the moment back in her senior year when she’d dropped the South Carolina guard for an easy layup. 

“And that’s very kind of y’all but,” she reaches over to squeeze the younger girl’s shoulder tightly, making her grunt in discomfort, “I think Paige is okay. It just works better if it’s one person. Less complications, you know?”

“Won’t somebody please think about the complications,” Jana snickers. 

“I’m so confused,” Laila says, a frown on her face as she looks weirdly at her teammates. 

“It’s nothing,” Azzi says shrilly as she slings both her and Paige’s bags on her shoulders, rolling her eyes when both Jana and Tessa giggle at the domesticity of the action, “don’t worry about it, Phelia.”

“Y’all are acting strange,” Laila shrugs as she starts to make her way out of the locker room and Azzi’s rounds on the other two women. 

“Whatever you think you know Tess,” Azzi raises a finger in warning, “keep it to yourself.”

Tessa makes a point to make a zipping motion across her lips as her eyes glimmer with mischief. 

“Thank god,” Jana gasps dramatically, “I was so tired of having to deal with these two all by myself. Do you know how hard it is Tess? I’ve been doing it for YEARS.”

“You poor soul,” Tessa coos, “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you. They’re kind of disgusting.”

“You peeped that already? Damn Azzi, do you realize how sickening y’all must be for Tessa to have already figured it out?”

“No forreal,” Tessa teases, “if you don’t want people catching onto your shit, I suggest y’all stop eyefucking every other second.”

“Fuck all the way off. Both of you,” Azzi grunts as Jana practically howls with laughter.

“You kiss your daughter with that mouth Fudd?”

“I dunno about Stephie,” Tessa drops her voice so only Jana and Azzi can hear her, “but I bet she kisses Paige with that mouth huh Az?”

Azzi groans, hiding her bright red face in her hands as her teammates' jovial laughter echoes through the locker room.

*** 

Paige is eerily quiet as she climbs into the passenger seat and Azzi knows immediately by the way she doesn’t try to coax her way into driving, that whatever conversation she’d had with Coach, likely hadn’t been a pleasant one. There are a thousand and one questions taking birth in her mind but Azzi doesn’t voice any of them, knowing Paige isn’t ready to answer them. Instead, she laces her fingers through Paige’s, resting them on the other girl's lap as she rubs a soothing circle against the back of her hand, a promise of whenever you’re ready to share, i’ll be ready to listen. 

They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts, one driven by that fact Paige has practically moved into Azzi’s house at this point. Their day started with them dropping Stephie off at school before the two of them would go to training or practice or whatever basketball activities they had planned. Then, they’d go to pick up Stephie from school and Azzi would drop her and Paige off at Curry camp while she ran various errands before circling back to pick them up. It’s domestic as hell and there’s a part of Azzi that’s still a little fearful; perhaps they’re trying to fit the puzzle pieces of their separate lives into each other a little too quickly. But she thinks that maybe those puzzle pieces had never really been disconnected, because sometimes she thinks their existence might just be an extension of each other’s. 

“You know,” Azzi begins softly when it becomes abundantly clear Paige isn’t going to speak first, “I’m okay with the fact that you’ve probably fucked other people. I mean other than the woman you married as well that is.”

“What the fuck?” Paige’s head whips towards her so quick, it must hurt just a little bit, “where the fuck did that come from?”

Azzi shrugs, “I’m just saying-”

“Why are you just saying?” Paige's eyes widen in panic as she possessively tightens her grip on the brunette’s hand, “are you about to tell me about someone you hooked up with? Because I’mma be honest Azzi I’d rather jump out of this moving car then hear about some whore who had the audacity-”

“Audacity? You do realize I was-”

“Say you were single and I actually will jump out of the car,” Paige warns, “but no actually dude what the fuck?”

“Well you see,” Azzi says carefully, “I’m trying to figure out why you’re being such a bitch to our new rookie and after careful deliberation, I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s gotta be a hookup gone wrong because why the fuck else would Paige Bueckers, who has a hard time killing a spider, be so unnecessarily mean to this poor girl?” 

There’s silence in the car for a second as Paige opens and closes her mouth, unable to get a word out, until she doubles over laughing, the sound of it echoing all around them. Azzi can’t help the soft grin that flitters across her face, relieved at seeing the way the tension begins to dissipate from the blonde’s shoulders. And Azzi swears that when Paige laughs, it feels a little bit like the sun has come out again; like the flowers are blooming and birds are chirping and everything is right in the world again and she thinks the sun should probably be jealous of the warmth Paige exudes because at least against the silhouette of Azzi’s sky, Paige burns brighter than the sun ever will. 

“You-you think I fucked Angie?” Paige finally manages to splutter out between peals of laughs, “baby she’s barely 22.”

“Hey,” Azzi pouts, “you always did go for younger women. Like me for example.”

Paige narrows her eyes, “you’re literally one year younger than me.”

“One year and a couple of days,” Azzi corrects. 

Rolling her eyes Paige uses both hands to hold Azzi’s non-driving one, “Azzi I swear to you that I have never in my life hooked up with Angie fucking Davis.”

“I know,” Azzi confesses, eyes still focused on the road ahead of her, “so what exactly is your problem with her then Paige?”

“You couldn’t have just asked me that?”

Azzi shrugs, “felt like I needed to make you laugh first. So tell me Bueckers-” before she can continue, she feels lips being pressed to her cheeks and can’t help the crimson tinge it elicits on her face, “what- what was that for?”

“Because you’re a little bit of a sap and I’m glad you’re my sap,” Paige grins, “all mine.”

“You’re trying to change the topic.”

“I am not.”

“Paige.”

The blonde sighs, leaning her head back against the headrest, “can we talk about it tonight? I wanna tell you I promise- I just- I think we need to sit down so that I- I can explain it to you properly.”

“That feels ominous,” Azzi’s stomach clenches at the seriousness in Paige’s voice as she turns onto the street for Stephie’s school, “should I be worried?”

“No,” Paige says firmly, bringing their enclosed hands to her mouth so she can brush a kiss across Azzi’s knuckles, “it’s nothing we can’t get through.”

Azzi nods as she pulls into the school parking lot, mustering up a reassuring smile of her own as she squeezes Paige’s hand. But there’s still a speck of fear dancing around in her gut; it’s this constant fear of losing Paige again that she doesn’t think she’ll ever truly be able to sweep out of her system. They’ve been doing so good these last few weeks -like they’re collecting together the scattered pages of everything we used to be and binding them back together with strings of all that we can become- but sometimes Azzi finds herself afraid that it might all just disappear, that a gust of wind might blow everything out of her hands all over again. 

“HI MAMA. HI MISS BUECKS,” she’s shaken from her thoughts by the backdoor opening as Stephie barrels into the car, the happiness in her voice contagious as she leans over the console to kiss Azzi and then Paige, before hanging between them and tapping at her own cheeks. The two adults laugh as they simultaneously press their lips to the little girl's cheeks, causing her dimples to deepen as she giggles between them. 

“How was school Stephie-bean?” Paige asks, peering over her own shoulder to make sure Stephie buckles herself in correctly as Azzi backs the car out. 

Stephie scrunches up her nose is distaste, “it’s school Miss Buecks. It was so boring. Except for lunch. Lunch was great. I love lunch.”

“You’re so real Steph,” Paige nods seriously, “lunch is the best and school is so bor-”

“Paige!”

“C’mon Az, I’m not gonna lie to the kid.”

“Exactly Mama,” Stephie chimes in loyally from the backseat, “lying is bad.”

Azzi rolls her eyes as Paige twists her hand to hold it out for Stephie to high-five it from the backseat, “the two of you are insufferable.”

“What does that mean?” Stephie asks, tilting her head in confusion. 

“It means we’re her most favorite people in the world,” Paige winks at the little girl as Azzi shakes her head fondly, choosing to keep the you’re more than that, you two are the reason my world keeps turning that tastes sugary sweet on the tip of her tongue to herself as she continues to drive. 

“What do y’all want for dinner?” she asks instead, ready to make a mental note of ingredients she might need to pick up from the grocery store while Paige and Stephie are at Curry Camp. 

“Actually,” there’s a slight nervous lilt to Paige’s voice and when Azzi looks over, she finds the older woman fidgeting anxiously with her thumbs, “I was thinking that maybe um- maybe y’all could come over to mine tonight? Maybe I can cook?”

They haven’t stayed at Paige’s since that first disastrous night. It hadn’t been on purpose per say; it was simply just easier to stay at Azzi’s, especially with Stephie to consider but perhaps a part of it had been subconscious self-preservation on the younger girl's part. Something about sleeping over at Paige’s feels more purposeful; like she’s fully letting herself step back into the other’s girl world and this time with the promise to not run away in the morning. It’s scary but when Azzi sees the hopeful look on Paige’s face as the blonde bites her lips, she thinks it’s worth it to take the leap; she’s ready for it. 

“I think that would be nice,” she says with a soft smile, “I’ll pick up some clothes for Stephie while y’all are at camp.”

Paige beams and Azzi can tell she’s itching to lean over to grab her hand or kiss her touch her in any way but there’s still the little fact they still haven’t quite told Stephie anything about them yet that stops her from doing any of the above. 

“What do you think of that Stephie bean? You wanna have a sleepover at my place tonight?” she redirects her attention to the little girl instead. 

“YES PLEASE,” Stephie squeals, practically bouncing on her car seat before a frown crosses her forehead, “but um-” she hesitates, “you um- you can’t cook Miss Buecks.”

Azzi bursts into a laughter as an offended look clouds Paige’s face, “excuse me? I absolutely can cook.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie says, her condescension-filled tone as adult as she can make it be, “you burned my eggs three times this week and then Mama had to make them all over again and we were almost late for school,” the little girl smirks through her ramble, “but that’s okay because I don’t mind being late for school because like I said school is really boring.”

“Okay but what about the one time I didn’t burn the eggs?” Paige haughtily crosses her arms over chest, “have we all just forgotten about that?”

“Pretty sure they were a little undercooked and saltless that one time-OW,” Azzi’s snicker is cut off by a pinch to her stomach, “do you want me to crash the car woman?”

Paige ignores her, turning back to look at Stephie with a betrayed expression, “you said you liked them?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feeling Miss Buecks,” the little girl wails and Azzi feels a mix of pride and love bloom in her heart at the kind soul she’s raised, “I’m sorry Miss Buecks but I just-” Stephie reaches as far as her seatbelt will allow to cup Paige’s hand in her tiny hands, “I really don’t think you should cook Miss Buecks.Please. I don’t wanna die yet. I’m too cute to die.”

“You know what Stephie bean,” Paige taps the little girl’s nose, “I think you might be even more of a drama queen than me-”

“Don’t sound so proud,” Azzi mutters under her breath. 

“Shhh,” Paige chastises, never looking away from Stephie, “but alright sweetheart. I won’t cook. How about we order pizza?”

Stephie lets out a delighted cheer as Azzi grumbles, “more junk food? I swear to god Bueckers you’re completely ruining her diet.”

“On the contrary, I think I’m finally fixing it. You poor thing,” Paige coos at Stephie dramatically, “I bet your Mama was torturing you with nasty green things all day every day before me huh?”

“No no no Miss Buecks, veggies are good for you,” Stephie recites loyally and Azzi grins triumphantly at Paige. 

“Oh dear Stephie you’ve been brainwashed-”

“Excuse me? Don’t try to corrupt my child out of her good habits.”

“I’m not corrupting her,” Paige defends as Azzi makes a left turn into the parking lot for Curry Camp, “I’m just teaching her the wonders of grease and oil and all the other fun things that adults lie are bad for you.”

“Paige you are an adult.”

“But a fun one,” Paige smirks, waggling her eyebrows at Stephie through the mirror as Azzi stops the car right outside the building, “right Stephie-bean?”

“The fun-est-est-est-est,” Stephie choruses back as she begins to unbuckle herself so she can latch onto her mother’s neck from behind. Paige takes the opportunity to climb out of the car so she can grab Stephie’s sports bag from where it’s kept in the trunk.

“You be good for Miss Buecks and Uncle Twin at camp today okay?” Azzi whispers to the little girl, “and I better hear that you made all your shots.”

Stephie scoffs, “you know I never miss Mama.”

“That’s my girl,” Azzi grins as she nuzzles her nose against the little girl’s before Paige opens the backdoor and Stephie unlatches herself from her mother, only so she can go barrelling into the older woman’s arms instead, “Stephie-bean you know you can walk.”

“But Mama,” Stephie whines, wrapping her hands tightly around Paige’s neck, “I’m too tired to walk-”

“Stephie,” Azzi sighs. 

“You don’t mind carrying me, do you Miss Buecks?”

“Of course not,” Paige grins, “whatever you want sweetheart.”

Stephie looks pointedly at Azzi, “see Mama? Miss Buecks doesn’t mind.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Azzi shakes her head, “alright off you two go. I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

“Bye Mama,” Stephie waves, “hurry back okay? We’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you guys too,” Azzi says warmly, blowing a kiss at both of them. 

It’s uncanny how similar the two of them are, when both Stephie and Paige make a show of catching the kiss and bringing it to their heart before looking at each other and giggling over their own silliness. It makes Azzi’s heartache in the best way possible. And as she watches the two of them start walking up the stairs, Stephie rambling and Paige hanging onto every word, she thinks that as long as life gives her the two of them, she’ll never ask for anything else. 

***

The first thing Azzi notices when she walks into the gym, arriving a little before camp finishes so she can say hi to her mentor, is Stephie sulking as she glares at Paige from the other side of the court. Confused, because it’s rare to see her daughter looking at the other woman with anything but pure adulation, Azzi follows the little girl’s line of sight to see what could possibly have upset her. A fond smile crosses her face as she sees Paige crowded by a bunch of children, all of them watching the superstar with wonder as she demonstrates her shooting technique. Paige swishes the ball into the basket and one would think she’d just scored the game-winning shot in the finals, by the way the gaggle of kids around her let out enthused cheers. 

The blonde has always had this aura that draws people to her -Azzi would know; she’d been one of the first people to succumb to it (not that she’d put up much of a fight)- but there’s something different about the charisma Paige has with kids. Perhaps it’s because of her own childlike innocence that’s still intact despite her age, but it’s clear that the little ones adore her. Azzi watches as one of the little girls animatedly tries to mimic what Paige had just demonstrated, looking upset when the basketball barely touches the rim. 

“I’m never gonna make a basket,” she hears the girl pout. 

Paige ruffles the kid’s hair before lifting her up onto her lap, “of course you are. You just needed a little bit more height. Here try again,” she says as she urges the girl to shoot again now that she’s higher off the ground. This time the ball falls magnificently through the hoop and the child whoops. 

“OH MY GOD COACH P I DID IT,” she squeals, hiding her face in Paige’s neck and while Azzi finds the whole thing quite adorable, when she looks over, she realizes that clearly Stephie is not nearly amused as she watches her daughter’s face transform into a scowl. 

“Riley and Ryan used to make the same face any time I gave another little girl too much of my time,” Azzi grins as Steph appears by her side, the former Warriors guard bumping her shoulder as a sign of greeting, “I split the kids into groups, half with Paige and half with me. Kept Stephie with me cause you know I thought I was her favorite but she’s been glaring at all the kids with Paige this whole time.”

“She’s uh- she’s a little possessive,” Azzi chuckles, eyes still on her daughter who finally looks away from Paige, before angrily shooting the ball at the lowered basket in front of her. 

“NICE SHOT TWIN NIECE,” Steph cheers as Stephie makes the shot, the little girl’s face unmoving as she gathers the ball back and gets ready to shoot again. Sometimes Azzi thinks, as she claps with pride, her daughter’s laser-focus attitude might rival her own. Maybe it’s a mother’s bias -she’d call it intuition- but she’s certain Stephie’s going to be a basketball phenomenon one day. 

“That was so pretty Stephie-bean,” Paige is beaming as she approaches Stephie, the little girl from before holding her hand, “you think you can show Claudia here how you get that arc on it?”

“No thank you Coach Bueckers,” Stephie’s voice is perfectly polite as she makes a point to not look at the two people who’ve just entered her space, but Azzi catches the split second when her gaze shifts irritatedly to the way Claudia’s hanging off of Paige, “I’m a little busy right now. Maybe another time.”

“Oh she’s good,” Steph whistles lowly as Paige’s mouth falls open at not being referred to as Miss Buecks, “she’s gonna have Paige groveling after camp I bet. She’s gonna get whatever treat she wants.” 

Azzi groans, “that is not a good thing. Do you know how much junk food she manipulates Paige into getting her?”

Steph laughs, “she spoils her huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Azzi mutters but there’s a wistful grin on her face, “It’s part of why Stephie adores her so much cause she knows Paige would give her the world if she could.”

“I don’t think it’s just Stephie who adores her,” Steph bumps his shoulder against her and Azzi blanches at the knowing tone in his voice. 

“That’s not- I mean- I don’t- I don’t know what you mean,” she stutters out. 

Steph rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, “oh come off it Az. It was obvious when y’all were kids and it’s still obvious now.”

“When we were- you knew?” 

“Of course I knew,” Steph scoffs, “I’ve been married for more than 20 years to the same girl I fell in love with at 15 years old Az, I know a thing or two about what love looks like. Of course I knew.”

“I’m just getting clocked left right and center today what the hell,” she grumbles but there’s a part of her that’s slightly relieved about the people around them slowly figuring it out. She thinks she should maybe be a little more embarrassed about how obvious they apparently are -have supposedly always been- but honestly she kind of loves that their love is so bright, that it’s impossible to not see it. 

Love. The word sends a shiver through Azzi. It’s not a foreign feeling to her at all, especially not when it comes to Paige. If she’s honest with herself, it’s a feeling that has never left. She’d tried as hard as she could; shoving it underneath a rock of you’re not allowed to feel this way that weighed heavily against her chest. But it had always been there and as soon as Paige had waltzed her way back into Azzi’s life, the blonde seemed to have found a way to shovel it right back out. And that four-letter-word isn’t buried anymore; it’s right there on the tip of her tongue and every time Paige smiles at her -eyes crinkling with only for you-, Azzi’s this close to let it slip through her lips. She’s just waiting for the right time.

“Hey Stephie-bean can I fix your form a little bit,” her attention is drawn back to her surroundings as she watches Paige try to get Stephie to look at her again but her daughter is nothing if not stubborn. 

“That’s okay. It’s almost time to go home and I’m sure Uncle Twin can help me with my form Coach Bueckers,” the little girl says contemptuously to a gobsmacked Paige before gesturing at Claudia, “how about you just keep helping her instead.”

“Sheesh that’s one petty kid you’ve got there Fudd,” Steph remarks before stepping to the front of the court and blowing his whistle, “alright y’all it’s 5 o’clock. Great job today! I hope you guys had a lot of fun and learned some good stuff and I’ll see y’all back here tomorrow!”

The former player diligently high-fives all the kids before they disperse towards their awaiting parents. Azzi can tell Stephie’s still irritated when the little girl barely hugs Steph, shaking herself out of her Uncle’s arms much quicker than she normally would as she all but stomps her way to her mother. 

“Woah there Stephie-bean,” Azzi says gently, falling to her knees in front of her daughter, “what’s wrong?”

Stephie pouts miserably, “I’m mad at Miss Buecks. She’s been helping other kids this whole time.”

Azzi has to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling, amused by the child’s dramatics, “baby you know that’s Miss Buecks’s job right? She’s here to coach all the kids.”

If possible, Stephie’s frown deepens as she kicks her feet stubbornly, “she can coach them,” she says matter-of-factly, “but why does she have to carry them and give them hugs. She should only do that with me.”

“Stephie-”

“And camp is over now and she’s still with stupid Claudia,” Stephie whines as she uses her hand to turn Azzi’s face towards Paige, “see?”

The we don’t call people stupid lesson that she was just about to give her daughter dies on Azzi’s lips as her eyes fixate on where a stupid pretty young woman who she knows to be Claudia’s mother is staring up at Paige with a stupid flirty smile. Azzi has no idea what the blonde is saying, but she’s sure it can’t be that funny to make the woman tilt her head back in laughter, left hand reaching out to flick Paige’s bicep and lingering far longer than necessary. 

“You know what Stephie-bean I think it’s time to home,” and really she feels just a little guilty with how she’s about to use her clearly upset daughter, “how about you go call Miss Buecks over.”

That’s all it takes to get Stephie running towards her and Azzi follows cautiously behind, only getting further irritated at how Claudia’s mother seems determined to step closer and closer to Paige and the clueless blonde does absolutely nothing to stop it, continuing to smile politely at the other woman. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie comes to a halt in front of Paige, interrupting whatever conversation was going on as she practically forces herself in between the two women, “Mama says it’s time to go home.”

Despite the jealousy simmering her heart, Azzi can’t help that her heart skips a beat at the way Paige’s whole face brightens up at seeing Stephie; clearly relieved at the little girl using her nickname again. 

“Give me one second sweetheart. I’m just a little busy talking to Claudia and her mother-”

“Mama,” Stephie says loudly, cutting Paige off as she turns to Azzi, “do you know if Aunty Chérie is in town?”

“Um- I- uh-” the brunette stutters, not having expected her little girl to bring that up as her gaze flickers towards a frozen Paige whose smile is completely gone, her body going rigid at the mention of Clémence.

“I was just thinking,” Stephie barrels on casually, “maybe we could go see her and she could give me cuddles and kisses since app-ently Miss Buecks is too busy to give them to me-”

The little girl cuts herself off with a squeal as she’s suddenly lifted off the ground and into Paige’s arms; the blonde peppering her lips against every inch of Stephie’s face. 

“Never ever too busy for you and I’m especially never too busy to give you kisses Stephie-bean.”

“Promise,” Stephie holds out her pinky finger and Paige diligently intertwines her own through it, pressing a kiss to their now interlocked pinkies. 

“Promise.”

Shaking her head fondly at her menace daughter’s antiques, Azzi fixes Claudia’s mother with a sweetly saccharine smile as she wraps a possessive hand around Paige’s bicep. She can feel the blonde’s eyes immediately drift towards her, clearly a little thrown off by her forwardness. It had been Azzi’s go-to-move in college whenever Paige’s fanclub would get a little too handsy. She’d sidle up into her girlfriend’s space, marking her territory as subtly as possible. Azzi knows this is a little different. It had been easier back then to play the action off as a protective best friend  warding off boundary-less fans; really it was uncanny the things two girls could get away with under the guise of friendship. But it’s different now that they’re actual adults and she can see the clogs running Claudia’s mother’s head as she starts to piece everything together. 

“Hi I don’t think we’ve properly met. I’m Stephie’s mom, Azzi, nice to meet you,” Azzi says finally, holding out her hand that isn’t still clasped firmly around Paige’s bicep, “I think it’s usually your husband who picks Claudia up from camp right?”

“I’m Stacie,” the woman says, primly returning the handshake, “yeah my husband’s usually the one who picks her up but I had a little time today-”

“Don’t lie Mommy. I heard you on the phone saying you wanted to come pick me up so you could meet Coach Bueckers-”

“Claudia,” Stacie hisses as Azzi narrows her eyes at the woman. 

“You said it’s cause you think she’s really hot-” Claudia manages to get out before her mother furiously clamps her hand over her mouth. 

“Azzi,” Paige whispers under her breath, wincing slightly as the shooting guard unconsciously tightens her grip, unable to keep the irritation of her face as she all but glares at Claudia’s mother. 

“You know kids, they say anything,” Stacie tries to justify, cowering under the sintering heat of Azzi’s stare. 

“Right,” the brunette nods with faux understanding, “well if you’ll excuse us, I think it’s time for us to go unless-” she turns her gaze onto Paige who looks innocently back at her as she hides a smile against Stephie’s stomach, “unless you’re still busy that is?”

Paige shakes her head affectionately as she tugs her arm out of Azzi’s grip, only so she can lock their pinkies together, the angle of it just out of Stephie’s line of sight, “never too busy for you,” she repeats, “let’s go.”

*** 

“Mama, will you tell Miss Buecks that I’m not speaking to her,” Stephie says as soon as the three of them get settled into the car. 

“What,” Paige shrieks, twisting her head around to look at the little girl who decisively looks away, her tiny hands crossed over her chest. 

“Stephie,” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, stretching her legs out in the passenger seat; Paige had insisted on driving this time and she hadn’t bothered fighting against it, “babes I thought you’d gotten over it? You were literally just talking to her.”

“That’s cause I forgot I was mad when Miss Buecks gave me my kisses but I rem-ber now,” Stephie explains. 

“Remember what?” Paige asks frantically, “Stephie-bean what did I do?”

The little girl in question makes it a point to turn her nose up and look directly at Azzi as she answers, “Mama will you tell Miss Buecks that she knows what she did.”

“I really, really don’t. Stephie sweetheart please tell me so I can fix it,” Paige tries again, and Azzi lets herself marvel at how the normally jittery-woman seems to have endless patience for her little girl. 

“YOU GAVE THE OTHER KIDS HIGH FIVES AND CUDDLES AND HUGS AND YOU EVEN LET CLAUDIA ONTO YOUR LAP,” Stephie bursts out emphatically, “you’re not supposed to do that with anyone but ME.”

“I-” Paige looks over helplessly at Azzi who holds her hands up in surrender, determined not to get in between the two of them and their dramatics. 

“You didn’t even ask Uncle Twin to let me be on your team,” Stephie accuses and then like she’s suddenly remembered that she’d made a bold assertion a couple of minutes ago, “Mama could you please tell Miss Buecks that I said all of that.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “I have a feeling she might have heard you.”

“Did you like the other kid’s hugs more than you like mine?” the little girl prods, her eyes suddenly glimmering with tears. 

“Oh sweetheart of course not,” Paige consoles immediately, “I could never like anyone’s hugs more than yours, you know that. Your hugs are the best things in the whole wide world. And Stephie-bean, I thought you wanted to be with Uncle Twin, you said you missed him.”

“Wanted to be with you more,” Stephie pouts stubbornly, “I don’t wanna share my Miss Buecks with the other kids. I don’t want you to hug them or carry them and you definitely can’t give them kisses.”

“I didn’t even give any of them kisses,” Paige protests. 

“Stephie, Miss Buecks is a person, not an object. She’s allowed to hug or carry or kiss-” Azzi tries to explain but is almost immediately interrupted by Stephie who gives her an unamused look. 

“Well is she allowed to hug and carry and kiss Claudia’s Mama then?”

Azzi’s mouth falls open as Paige barely holds in her chuckle at the little girl’s cheeky question, “she absolutely is not allowed to do that.”

“Exactly,” there’s a satisfied grin on Stephie's face as she takes in the still dumbfounded expression on her mother’s face. 

“I just- I meant the kids. She’s allowed to hug or carry or kiss the kids-”

“NO SHE’S NOT.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Paige moves her hands up and down in a calming gesture before she reaches for Stephie hands, “how about this? From now on, I won’t carry any of the other kids and I definitely won’t give them any kisses. But can I at least give them one hug? Just one tiny little hug?”

Stephie ponders over the request for a second, “okay,” she agrees finally, “but only one hug and it can’t be longer than three seconds okay? And then you come and give me three of them right after?”

“Done. I’ll come give you five hugs right after,” Paige grins happily as the two of them shake on it before she turns back around to start driving them towards her house.  

“Mama you can tell Miss Buecks that I’m speaking to her again,” Stephie smiles toothily at Azzi through the rearview mirror. 

“Really?” Azzi responds sarcastically, “I couldn't have guessed.”

“You know,” Paige drops her voice so Stephie can’t hear them, “you’re being pretty sassy for someone who was just as irrationally jealous as a five year old a couple of minutes ago.”

“I was not jealous,” Azzi says indignantly, repeating herself when Paige’s smirk deepens, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Paige, I was absolutely not jealous.”

“Whatever you say baby,” Paige hums quietly as she turns the music up in the car, grinning at Stephie through the mirror when one of their new favorites comes on. 

Azzi preemptively covers her ears as her soft “oh please don’t start singing-” is immediately drowned out by the two other people in the car beginning to sing at the top of their voices. They barely know the lyrics and they’re definitely not on key and really Azzi’s poor ears are bleeding, but as she’s coerced into reluctantly joining in, she thinks this could still be her favorite sound in the whole wide world. 

They’re so enthralled in their cacophony -in each other- as they pull up to Paige’s house, that it takes them a far longer than it should to notice the figure on her porch. It isn’t until they’ve parked in the driveway, and Azzi’s gone around to grab her and Stephie’s overnight bag from the back while Paige lifts Stephie onto her shoulders, and they’re finally making their way up the three steps that lead to the deck, that they finally do. 

All chatter comes to a halt as the boy -well that’s not quite right; not when he towers over Paige and Azzi as he stands up from where he’d been sitting on the lawn chair. It’s been almost four years since she’d last seen him in person and even then he’d been a fleeting face in the crowd. She’s seen plenty of his clips from the rookie year he’d just finished in the NBA but it isn’t the same as seeing him in the flesh now. So much has changed; the baby fat is gone from his face, he’s lankier and longer and there’s a discernible aura of confidence around him; as is expected from a 20 year old man. Yet, as Azzi lets her gaze wander over him, she sees what she’s always seen. She sees that same innocence, that same kindness, that same drive in his eyes that she’d always found reflected in his sister’s eyes too. She looks at him and she still sees a mini version of her Paige. 

*** 

October 2022 

“AZZI,” Drew screams as he runs across the arrival gate, his carry-on suitcase practically abandoned for the flight attendant with him to begrudgingly pick up. 

“DREW,” Azzi’s smile widens as the little boy comes to a halt in front of her, his arms immediately wrapping around her waist, “oh my god you’ve gotten so much bigger little dude.”

Drew scrunches his nose up at her, “you literally saw me like a month ago.”

“And I think you might have doubled in size since,” she ruffles his hair before turning to the flight attendant who’s not so subtly checking her out, “thank you so much for getting him here safely.”

“Oh just doing my duty m’am, especially for a pretty lady like you,” the man says and Azzi winces at his dated flirting technique. 

“This is Azzi,” Drew introduces, irritation seeping into his voice as he tightens his grip on Azzi’s waist, “you know how I told you I’m flying out for my sister’s birthday, this is my sister’s girlfriend and it was her idea to fly me out to surprise my sister. Because you know she’s her girlfriend.”

“Right,” the man grimaces and Azzi has to bite back the laugh threatening to escape as he hastily hands Drew’s suitcase over before barely managing a half-hearted grin, “I um- uh- well I should get back to the uh- plane or something. Tell your- tell your sister happy birthday.”

“Thanks again,” Azzi calls after the man as he all but runs away from them, shaking her head fondly down at Drew who’s giggling into her side. 

“You think if I tell Paige he flirted with you, she’d get him fired?” he asks cheekily. 

“There’s a nonzero chance that she’d at least try,” Azzi agrees as the two of them start making their way out of the airport and towards her car. 

It’s a chilly fall morning and the sun has barely risen in the sky but Drew seems more awake than ever as he practically bounces into the passenger seat, clearly excited to see his sister who has no inkling that he’s coming. The idea had come to Azzi a week or so ago as she’d racked her head for ideas of what to do for Paige for her birthday. She’d done a good job putting up a front for the rest of their team -avidly cheering for them from the sidelines during practice- but Paige had been struggling these last couple of weeks. Azzi knows firsthand what it’s like to watch everyone else play the sport she loves while nursing her own injury and no matter how many i’m fine don’t worry about me spiels she got from her girlfriend, Azzi knew it was killing the point guard to not be out there with their team. 

If she could, Azzi would have liked to have miraculously fixed Paige’s torn ACL as her birthday gift but that was wishful thinking. So instead she’d decided on cheering Paige up with the other thing she loved more than playing basketball: spending time with her baby brother. It didn't take that much convincing to get Bob Bueckers -who’d seen just how despondent his daughter had been those first couple of weeks in that gloomy hotel- to allow Drew to take the first half of this week off of school. From then on, the main difficulty had been keeping it a secret from Paige who seemed to have sixth sense for when something was going on behind her back. It didn’t help that Drew had come close to spilling the beans more than a handful of times. But they’d somehow managed it and this morning, Azzi had rolled out of her girlfriend’s arms much earlier than she would have liked to, ready to give Paige the day she deserved. 

She glances at the clock. It’s almost 8 and Azzi knows that Paige is probably beginning to stir awake. She can almost picture the likely confusion on her girlfriend’s as she’d reach out for Azzi, only to find the spot next to her empty. As if on cue, the sound of a phone ringing vibrates around the car and Drew’s eyes light up at Paige’s name flashing on the media-board. 

“Don’t say a word,” Azzi warns him as she picks up the call. 

“WHAT THE HELL AZZI. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Paige’s irritated voice echoes throughout the car, “DO YOU KNOW HOW RUDE IT IS TO MAKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAKE UP ALONE IN THE MORNING? ON HER GODDAMN BIRTHDAY?”

Despite Azzi’s warning, Drew snickers loud enough for the speakers to pick it up  and the brunette fights the urge to hit her head against the steering wheel when Paige lets out a dramatic gasp. 

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU WITH ANOTHER GIRL. ON MY BIRTHDAY?”

“No Paige I am not with another girl-”

“Well it sounds like there’s a girl with you.”

Drew opens his mouth to protest, clearly agitated with his voice potentially being mistaken for a girl’s but Azzi’s quicker, immediately clamping a hand over his mouth. 

“I am not with-”

“Wait. Why did that voice sound so familiar?” Paige asks and Azzi can picture her scrunching her nose through the phone, “it can’t be any of the girls. I think I saw all of them in their apartments while I was looking for you but it sounds so-”

“It’s no one,” Azzi says hurriedly, “I’m just picking up something for your birthday.”

“I don’t want anything for my birthday,” Paige grumbles, “just wanted to wake up to my beautiful gorgeous girlfriend but no, you couldn’t just let me have that.”

A soft blush, tinted with hues of you make my imperfection feel perfect, creeps up Azzi’s cheeks as Drew teasingly waggles his eyebrows at her, “I promise I have something even better for you.”

“What could possibly be better than morning se-”

“Celebratory cuddles. Right yes what could be better than morning celebratory cuddles,” Azzi babbles, ignoring the weird look Drew gives her as she tries to prevent them from falling in the ditch her girlfriend is unknowingly about throw them into, “oh my won’t you look at that, that sign has all the reasons I shouldn’t try to talk and drive.”

“Baby what? Are you having a stroke. That’s not a thing-

“Oh it totally is and I really have to hang up. Love you baby, see you soon!’

“Azzi-” a loud beep rings through Paige’s protests as Azzi rushes to cut the call, slumping back in her seat with a sigh. 

“Morning celebratory cuddles?” if she wasn’t so embarrassed she would laugh at the side-eye Drew shoots her, “y’all are so weird.”

“Watch it. I will send you back to Minnesota.”

“No you won't,” it’s uncanny how Drew has Paige’s exact smile as he goofily grins at her, “you love Paigey way too much to do that to me.”

Azzi rolls her eyes fondly, “yeah maybe just a little bit.” 

There’s peaceful silence in the car for a while as Drew leans back in his seat, looking thoughtfully out the window. Azzi feels excitement bubble in her stomach in anticipation for Paige’s reaction to seeing her little brother. For as long as she’s known her girlfriend, she’s always known just how special Drew is to her; he’d been more a child to her than a brother and although it hasn’t been that long since Paige has seen him, Azzi could still hear the wistfulness in her voice every night she’d said good-bye to him on the phone. She feels giddy just knowing that seeing Drew again will put that earnest, loving smile she loves so much on Paige’s face. That smile, Azzi thinks, might just be the reason her world keeps turning. 

“Hey Azzi?” Drew says slowly, “can I ask you something?”

“Course you can kid. You can ask me whatever you want,” Azzi reaches out to squeeze the little boy’s hand as he fidgets in his seat. 

“Do you-” he hesitates, sucking in a deep breath, “do you think two people can stay together forever?”

Azzi’s taken aback by the gravity of the question, not having expected to deal with heavy-hitting ones like this so early in the morning. And really the truth is Azzi doesn’t know how to answer this question. It’s the kind of question her own brain conjures up sometimes and she has to distract herself from the way it makes her heart constrict because what if two people can’t stay together forever?

“That’s a heavy question,” she says finally, “where’s this coming from?”

Drew shrugs and his tone teeters on the edge of defensiveness when he answers, “just some things I think about sometimes.”

“I don’t know,” she says carefully, “I’d like to think some people can. I mean my parents have been together for a really long time and I’d like to think they’ll stay together forever.”

“How about you and Paigey?” Drew prods. 

There’s an answer of yes that tastes like asphalt on the top of Azzi’s tongue and so much of her wants to spit it out and have that be the answer she gives Drew. But there are these uneasy shackles of uncertainty, of what if’s, of who knows what the future could do to us, that stops her. And she doesn’t know why she’s so scared of saying yes. Because if she’s honest with herself Azzi can’t really fathom a forever without her girlfriend; not when sometimes it feels like instead of a heart, it’s Paige that beats rhythmically against her ribcage. 

“I really, really hope so,” she whispers. 

“Azzi,” Drew’s voice is coated in sincerity and the brunette hums in response, “you won’t ever hurt my Paigey will you?”

And there it is again, the unpredictability of what could happen next that’s beginning to feel a little suffocating. She wants to give Drew a resounding no because Azzi would rather drive a dagger through her skin before letting Paige get so much as a paper cut but life is so fickle and she’s scared of making a promise she can’t keep. So she makes one that she swears she can. 

“I promise that I will try my absolute best not to hurt your Paigey.”

***

May 2033 

“Well,” Drew Bueckers sneers, his tone filled with contempt as he takes in the way Paige, Azzi and Stephie are practically wrapped into each other, don’t you guys just look so fucking cozy.”

There’s a sinister tension-filled quiet as the three adults -god it’s weird to include Drew as an adult but Azzi supposes that that’s what he is now- look between each other. 

“Umm you owe me a kiss,” Stephie cuts into the silence.

“What?” Drew scrunches his face at the little girl. 

“You said a bad word,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “and Mama says whenever someone says a bad word around me, they have to give me a kiss. So Miss Buecks,” Drew's eyes narrow at the nickname as the little girl lightly taps Paige’s shoulder, “can you turn around and move closer so he can give me a kiss?”

“You don’t, you don’t have to do that-” Azzi tries to intervene. 

“Yes he does Mama,” Stephie interupts her indignantly, “rules are rules right?’

“Stephie-”

“Rules are rules,” it’s Drew who cuts Azzi off this time, his previously stoic face morphing into something warmer as he takes a step closer to her daughter and presses his lips against her turned cheek, “there you go. Am I forgiven for saying a bad word now?”

Stephie grins up at him and Azzi feels a wave of this is how it always should have been pinching at her heart she watches the two of them. 

“You’re forgiven but you have to promise not to do it again.”

“I don’t make promises like that kid,” there’s an unspoken accusation as Drew keeps up a smile towards Stephie but his eyes dart for the briefest second towards the two women around him, “but I promise I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Stephie accepts happily as she reaches over Paige’s shoulder to press her own lips against Drew’s cheek. 

“What was that for?’ he asks a little dazedly. 

Stephie shrugs, “because I think I’m gonna like you.”

“Drew,” Paige whispers finally, gently letting the little girl off of her shoulders, “what are you- what are you doing here?”

“What? A guy can’t just come visit his sister anymore?” there’s an unfamiliar hard edge to Drew’s voice -a stark contrast from how he’d been with Stephie- that makes Azzi flinch. 

“Of course he can but I just- you didn’t- you didn’t tell me you were coming,” Paige presses. 

“Well we've been talking about me coming down for a while but it just hasn’t happened and so I thought- I thought why not just come surprise you but-” Drew purses his lips as he gestures to the trio in front of him, “I think I might be the one who’s surprised.”

“Drew-”

“Actually you know what no,” he clenches his jaw, voice dripping with barely controlled anger, “I’m actually not surprised. Not surprised at all. Because really this- this is exactly what I should have expected from the two of you.”

“Maybe,” Azzi nibbles at her bottom, “maybe we should go-’

“NO,” both Stephie and Paige yell out in tandem as the little girl immediately clutches onto the blonde’s thighs. 

“I don’t wanna go. Miss Buecks tell Mama I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re staying right here with me,” Paige reassures the little girl as she turns her gaze back to Azzi, “you’re not going anywhere okay?”

“Paige-”

“I asked you to stay tonight and you’re going to stay. End of discussion,” Paige says firmly and Azzi lets out a reluctant sight. 

“You asked her to stay? As in stay the night? Oh my god,” Drew scoffs maliciously. 

“Drew,” there’s a warning tone in Paige’s voice as she deattaches herself from Stephie, keeping her voice low, “not right now okay?”

Her brother rolls his eyes, grunting out a “whatever,” but listening to his older sister like he always had and suddenly Azzi feels nostalgic for the little boy she had once known. 

“You’re so tall,” she blurts out, grimacing slightly when he turns to her with a frown. 

“Excuse me?”

“I mean I knew that. I’ve seen some of your highlights and I knew I mean- I knew you were taller and that you’ve gotten bigger and that you’d look stronger and all of that but I just-” Azzi gulps between her babbling, “you just- you look different Drew.”

There’s a shine of warmth in Drew’s gaze for a second but it flickers away faster than it had appeared and his eyes are cold with flecks of betrayal as he looks at Azzi, “that’s what happens as people get older isn’t it? I wouldn’t look so different to you if you’d been around to see me grow up.”

There’s venom laced in every word and Paige immediately opens her mouth to argue with him, but Azzi wraps a hand around her wrist to stop her. Because even if the words seep into her skin and infect it with bruises of guilt and regret, Azzi thinks she probably deserves them. She’d been in Drew’s world for so long and then one day, she just hadn’t been. She thinks he probably could have spewed something even more poisonous and she just might have deserved that too. 

“Are you sleeping over too, Uncle Drew?” Stephie asks softly, unaffected by the tenseness of the adults around her. 

“Uncle Drew?” Drew asks slowly. 

Stephie nods with a grin, “Miss Buecks called you Drew and that’s when I figured it out. Mama and Miss Buecks have told me stories about you and there’s some pictures of you from when you were littler at Nana and Pop's house,” she rambles and Drew’s eyes soften at the idea of Stephie knowing of his existence, “ and just in case you don’t know who I am even though you should,” she gives him a pointed look as if everyone should know who the little girl is, “I’m Stephie. And you’re my Miss Buecks’s brother so that means you’re my Uncle Drew.”

“Right that um-” Drew clears his throats, “that makes sense Stephie.”

“So Uncle Drew, are you sleeping over too?”

“Yeah, yeah I guess I am.”

“YAY!” Stephie squeals as she laces her fingers through Drew and begins to pull him towards the front door, “so Uncle Drew what’s your favorite pizza topping?”

Something wonderful flutters in Azzi’s chest as she watches the two of them interact -it’s a little bit like seeing the past and present harmonically blend into one- but despite that, despite the reassurance that Paige squeezes against her hand, there’s an uneasiness lingering in the back of her mind. That wretched but familiar fear of the future weaves itself through her heart. Between the frostiness from Drew and whatever secret Paige is keeping from her, Azzi can’t help but wonder if these last couple of weeks had simply been a mirage. She can’t help but wonder if this bubble of happiness that they’ve built is about to be burst by a needle of circumstance again. 

[toiletclown]

breathless. (part six. finale.)

spencer agnew x gn!reader

more fluff :,)

summary: six months after you decide to make it official, you both decide now is the time to start dropping hints.

a/n: this one was going to be part six and seven but i couldn't bare to drag it out much longer!! she's done! :D [ more serious a/n at the end ]

word count: 3187

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Six months later

It had been six months of bliss, and you were happy to report to anyone who asked that there was no end in sight. You and Spencer weren’t going to have a ‘honeymoon phase’, because you were so blatantly in love with each other it just wasn’t going to end. There was no getting complacent, no getting bored. You loved it. 

However, you both agreed that it was time to start being little shits on camera and on social media. Ian and Anthony didn’t care, because realistically what you did on social media was never a big deal to them. You were both freelancing anyway, technically speaking. On camera, they just asked that you didn’t rile the fans up too, too much. 

Amanda was on vacation, and Shayne asked if you both wanted to be the special guests on an upcoming Smosh Mouth while she was out. This was the perfect start to your plan.

“Hello, I’m Shayne and welcome back to Smosh Mouth. Today I have two of the most troublesome Smosh members with me, since Amanda is still on vacation. How are you doing today, guys?” Shayne introduced the both of you.

“Troublesome? I don’t know about all that, Shayne. I’m doing good, though! How are you, Shayne?” You started.

“Yeah –” Spencer began, but you cut him off.

“No, I didn’t ask you, I asked Shayne. You can wait your turn, Spence.” Your feet were touching under the table, a silent game of footsie like you were in middle school again. And if it was making your heart and stomach do flips so loudly you thought it would catch on the mic, that’s for you to know and the fans to eventually find out. 

“Damn, Y/N,” Shayne said between laughs. Spencer was playing along with your bit and waiting his turn, so Shayne continued on. “I’m doing pretty good today, Y/N. I must say, you’ve trained Spencer so well. He never listens when we tell him to shut up.”

“Hey!” Spencer erupted into laughter, so of course you followed.

“He’s a good boy, isn’t he?” You said, ruffling his hair and making it arguably sexier.

“Don’t.” He choked out, but he was still playing footsie with you. You still knew you were getting in trouble for that one later.

“Okay, so, how are you, Spinner?” You asked, head cocked to the side.

He was blushing beautifully, and you really, really hoped that was picking up on camera. You loved making him blush, but seeing it on camera always made it even better. You might even have a few screen recordings in your hidden folder of times you made him blush on set. But he doesn’t need to know that. (He has a similar folder, but not even hidden. You’ve seen it several times. It has over 100 clips in it.)

“Well, I’m –” You cut him off again.

“Oh, Shayne, you said you wanted to do album tier lists today, right?”

“Y/N!” Spencer whined, not entirely on purpose.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk please?” He asked, left hand reaching for your right under the table, his way of silently asking you to pull back.

“Sure, Spin. Go off, king, speak your truth.” You smiled widely at him, knowing what he was going to say.

He rolled his eyes at you, lovingly, and let your hand go so he could gesture while he spoke. “Anyway! I’m doing good today too, Shayne. I got some pretty sick news this weekend.”

You played up your surprise for the camera. Eyes wide, you asked, “Oh?” 

Shayne also knew, because of course he did, but you let him ask anyway, “Yeah? What’s up, man?”

“I finally found a bigger apartment and I’ll be moving in in about a month,” Spencer started, “It’s closer to the office and right around the corner from one of my favorite coffee shops. I’m pretty stoked, honestly.”

That was your favorite coffee shop first, but now he loved it just as much as you did. Mainly because you took him there on one of your first dates, and now he insisted on getting coffee there at least once a week.

In his defense, their lattes were incredible. And their cinnamon buns.

“Oh, sick, dude! More room for your cats, too.” Shayne knew that you were also moving in, hence the ‘bigger apartment’, but you and Spencer both agreed that should be kept under wraps for now. You were giving the fans little crumbs of the gigantic sourdough loaf that was your love.

“Yeah, they’re more excited than I am! Oh, ouch,” Spencer yelped at the end, and forced himself to cover up the fact that you had just playfully kicked his shin. Little shit, I didn’t even kick him that hard.

“Sorry, I kicked the table by accident, which is genuinely the first time that has ever happened.”

Shayne was doing his best to hide his giggles, but he was failing massively. “How many times have you sat at this table, Spencer? That’s crazy, I have never done that.”

You were so thankful Shayne loves to ‘yes, and’ shit because he was making this so much easier. And funnier.

Spencer tried to glare at him, but he was laughing too, so he looked entirely unserious. “I do not know how I managed to do that, to be quite honest.”

“Album tier list though?” You asked, excited to talk about music.

You and Spencer had extremely similar tastes, but Shayne was still ‘discovering music’ so he didn’t know a few of the albums you mentioned. Spencer agreed with all of your choices but one. You ranked the Blue Album by Weezer at an A tier instead of an S (which was done simply to rile him up, and it worked). 

After you had all gone through your little TierMaker lists and agreed upon the ending rankings (yes, you moved the Blue Album to S), Spencer decided to throw a wrench in everyone’s plans.

“Oh, Peach, when we get back to the apartment we have to call maintenance again,” He said casually, while you were supposed to be getting ready for the next segment. “Shit, can you make sure someone cuts that?” He turned to Alex, who gave back a thumbs up.

“Wait, no, keep it in. Cut this though,” you laughed, deciding to play into it, “If we keep it in, they’ll all assume we have a place together. Then we can go to Twitter to ‘clarify’ that I was just coming to your place to work on a Games video. Give them crumbs, yes, but we can maybe drop a crouton here and there.” You smiled, proud of your improv skills showing their face.

“You two are diabolical, the actual reveal is going to be April First all over again,” Shayne said, a genuine smile on his face.

You returned it tenfold, so lucky to have such loving and supportive coworkers who doubled as friends. “I don’t think we will ever reach April First heights, but I appreciate the enthusiasm.” 

Spencer sat up, suddenly locked in, “Wait, Alex?” 

“Yeah?” They called from behind the monitors.

“Cut that, but keep the footage. We can use it later. You can just send it to me after?”

“I’ll let Rock know!” Alex replied, excitement in their voice.

“Demons, both of you!” Shayne was in a fit of laughter, again. It felt so good being able to make your friends smile so easily.

//

The next week, the Smosh Mouth episode drops. Normally there’s a two-to-three week turnaround for the SmoshCast videos, but since you and Spencer had begun dropping hints in videos, the viewership on videos with both of you in it had skyrocketed. You were both thoroughly surprised (and pleased) that your plan was going so well.

You both had a notes app check-list in your phone of silly bits to pull. So far, you had checked off: hugging more than three times in one video (Challenge Pit); you blowing Spencer a kiss (TNTL); Spencer blowing you a kiss (background of a Bit City ad-sketch); the entire Smosh Mouth episode, basically; shadow boxing, then pretending you were going to make out (Bit City); more romantic compliments, even more romantic bullying (Dread, Smosh Mouth, Culinary Crimes). 

Next up, a Twitter crumb.

Once the link to the episode was tweeted, Spencer quote tweeted it: “y/n thinks their the coolest person ever”

He deleted, then tried again: “y/n thinks they're the coolest person ever”

And then, you simply tweeted a screenshot of the lyrics to Slim Pickins by Sabrina Carpenter: “This boy doesn't even know the difference between there, their, and they are.” 

This was perfect, because in a matter of moments everyone was talking about the next line of that song. “Yet he’s naked in my room.”

//

After the Twitter Crumb, you both decided to slow down on the hints. This backfired, however, when everyone then thought you were fighting. You went back to being mostly normal, which was still physical and affectionate, but now the fans were so used to the new levels of it that they went 0 to 60 on “oh my god are y/n and spencer fighting what happened btwn them :(“

Angela stopped you at lunch to let you know. You were halfway through a burrito bowl, sad to have to stop. “Hey, Y/N? Have you looked at the comments on videos lately?”

You wiped your mouth and made sure you were finished chewing before responding, which took longer than you wanted it to. You had just taken a fairly large bite when she rounded the corner. “No, why? Is everything okay?”

“Well, everyone thinks you and Spence are fighting,” she snickered, sitting down and taking a sip of her drink.

“Fighting? Why, because I’m not calling him a good boy on camera anymore?” You laughed, then lowered your voice, “He won't let me anyway, he said he got ‘dangerously’ hard.”

Angela choked a bit at that, fully used to you and Spencer being overly vulgar, but not in regards to each other.

“Oh! Okay! Well, I’m gonna go find Chanse so I can throw up with him about that! Bye!” And she was gone.

“It’s the truth,” you whispered to no one, before getting back to your food.

//

After a month of going back to ‘normal’ you decided to stop torturing everyone. You decided since the last Sabrina stunt sent fans into a tizzy, you posted a photo of you and Spencer building legos together. Then two hours later, you posted ‘Juno’ to your story, specifically the part where she sings “Adore me / hold me and explore me / I’m so fucking horny / Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one”.

Yeah, that did the trick. Ian and Anthony did give you a light reprimanding for that one, considering the firestorm that happened on Twitter, Reddit, and your Instagram comments. Whoops?

You decided to talk to Spencer afterwards, to see what his timeline on this was. If you were being honest, you were ready to kill the charade at this point. For one thing, your one year anniversary was five months away, and you weren’t sure you could even last that long. But also, while Spencer was definitely enjoying the game you two had built, he had never wanted to hide you. And maybe that was an enticing concept.

“Hey, baby?” You called, tapping your boyfriend on the shoulder. 

“Hey, honey, what's up?” He slid his headphones off and grabbed your hand. Some things never change, huh?

You kissed his forehead, grabbing a chair and sitting with him. “I was wondering. It’s still a little far away, if I’m being honest, but our one year anniversary is soon. Did you want to maybe do the reveal that day?”

He was blushing again, and you would never get tired of that. He was still blushing at you like he was two, four, six, eight years ago. “I think I’d like that.”

“Okay! I love you so much, Spence.”

“I love you more, Peach.”

//

Five months later, your one year anniversary ♡

Spencer had had Ian pull some strings and rent out Buca Di Beppo for your anniversary. Normally, Smosh rented one out for VidCon, but they were doing Smosh Summer Games again this year, and decided to not do VidCon this time around. So they rented it out just for you and Spencer.

Your life had changed so much over the course of a year, and you couldn’t be more grateful for it all. You were in such a better place now than you were then. In so many ways, financially, mentally, physically, romantically, sexually. 

Spencer was the best partner you had ever had, by a fucking long shot. Honestly, in your youth you picked pretty bad ones. Repeatedly. You only had one serious relationship as an adult, and you were locked in for good on your second one. Well, in your opinion, you were locked in for good. 

Spencer hadn’t proposed yet, which was fine. Your birthday was coming up, so you were really hoping he would pop the question then. Whenever you ranted to Ang about this, she would promptly remind you how young your actual relationship is. Amanda, however, encouraged you fully. She had always wanted you two to date, so you getting married would send her into orbit.

Arasha also wanted him to ask you. She had actually started pestering you about your dream ring, your ring size, along with your dream venue and outfit. Chanse had taken you to brunch a few times to ask how the “Plan with a Capital P” was going, because he refused to be serious about it. You kind of liked that, though, because it took some pressure off. 

Because you did want it. Badly. Angela, Tommy, and Damien thought you should wait. Chanse, Amanda, and Arasha thought it was time. Courtney and Shayne refused to take sides, same with Ian and Anthony. Typical couples.

The crew had also decided not to weigh in, minus Erin, Kiana, and Alex. Who were all on your side, for the record.

And what side was Spencer on?

Well, he wasn't on anyone’s side.

He was on one knee, in Buca di Beppo of all places, proposing to you.

And you fucking loved it.

//

“What, did you seriously expect us to have a serious proposal? We’re too funny for boring proposals.”

You were doing a Q&A Smosh Mouth episode about your relationship. After he proposed, and got some gorgeous candids taken by Courtney, you both hard launched on Instagram (and Twitter, and Reddit, and Tumblr. So on and so forth. It really was April First again.)

“Yeah, but Buca?” Shayne was laughing his ass off again, as he did every time either of you told the story to someone. “I mean, it’s a sacred place to us here at Smosh. I get it, I do. It’s just so fucking funny.” Back to his laughter fit.

“I mean, I still remember the first Buca trip I went on with Smosh. I actually sat next to Spence, and I didn't like the pasta I ordered. He gave me his.” You smiled fondly to yourself, feeling sentimental. It was one of your favorite memories. “It’s one of the first times I remember thinking, like, fuck, I like this dude a whole lot. And he’s my best friend. And, like, out of my league.” 

“Whoa, what?” Spencer asked, eyes wide. “Me?”

“Yeah?” You blinked at him, confused.

“No, dude, you're way out of my league, what the fuck are you talking about? Shayne, what the fuck is Y/N talking about?”

Shayne threw his hands up in surrender, entirely not speaking on this. 

“Are we having our first fight on Smosh Mouth right now?” Spencer asked, rubbing his thumb on your hand, which had been laced with his under the table the whole time. He was making a joke, and wanted to make sure you knew he wasn't serious. What a fucking angel.

“It seems so because I think you were out of my league, one hundred percent. But let’s agree to disagree and move on, okay?” You decided not to really ‘yes, and’ that one.

Shayne jumped in, eager to change the topic, even though he knows you two are joking. “Well, the reactions have been stellar. You really pulled it off so well, especially by posting that ‘blooper reel’ of all the times you both messed up on camera!”

You had secretly been a little worried people would be upset. Amanda and Angela assured you anyone who was upset wasn't a real fan. Which was fair.

Speaking of Angela, you came to find out in the following month that everyone ‘taking sides’ was actually just moving parts in a huge Rube Goldberg machine of a proposal plan by Spencer.

Your fiancé. God, it was still crazy to think about.

But while you ran around trying to get people on your side, everyone had already been given guidelines by Spencer on how to react. And Arasha and Angela were his number one operatives.

Angela, your best friend, seemingly not on your side about wanting to get married, planting a seed of doubt in your mind.

(Spencer apologized for the mind games that everyone played, but it all ended so perfectly that you couldn’t stay mad at anyone. Angela would be walking you down the aisle.)

Arasha, your number one wedding supporter, asking wedding-related questions, then feeding the info back to Spencer.

(He had your dream ring handcrafted. Your dream venue was already booked. You weren’t going to say no, anyway. Arasha was helping with planning.)

Damien and Tommy siding with Angela. Damien, a romantic at heart. And Tommy, one of Spencer’s closest friends.

(Damien was in charge of misdirecting you around the office, Tommy is going to be the officiant at your wedding.)

Amanda and Chanse siding with you. Encouraging you that everything was going to be okay, whether he proposed or not.

(Amanda is the ringbearer, Chanse is in charge of music, thank god.)

Courtney, Shayne, Ian, and Anthony not taking sides at all, showing you partners shouldn't take sides.

(And they did. And do. And so do you. But they did remind you to be more mature about it.)

You were marrying Spencer. Your Spencer. Spinner. Spence. Fucking Charles. After nearly ten years, you were finally marrying the dude you fell for the moment you met his eyes in that office lobby. When he shook your hand, there were sparks. You both knew from that moment it was over.

And yet it still took so long. And even despite that, you’d do it all again, because it leads to Spencer. The road might have been bumpy, and the weather wasn't always sunny, and you might have broken down a few times along the way, but it led to Spencer. And you’d drive, run, walk, skip, hop on one leg the whole way down that road, as long as he was on the other side.

And now, he would be.

Always, and forever.

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taglist: @lokidokieokie @chaoticlizzzzzz @babble28 @starstriker027 @langaslefthairstrand @vc55bughead @kneelforloki @cosmichahn @lisiliely

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real author's note time!!

wowie, this has been such a word of labor, love, and obsession. this fic finally pulled me out of my months (almost years) long block, because for once i wrote more than 6k, but i also finished it!!!!! it's been quite a long time since i've finished a fic. next up is the angela x reader anon requested, but i can't promise a time window for that one. i hope you have all enjoyed this fic as much as i have, i'm quite proud of it and of myself. whether you follow me or not, thank you for reading and engaging with my fic. you're the best <3

[themeraldee]

The Lucky Winner - Part 3

[Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2] | [AO3]

18+ Only | 10k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 1. Voice kink (very mild mention). Awkward first dates. Awkward dialogue. Messy timeline. Established Relationship. Love confession. Emotional sex. Unhealthy Relationship.

Summary: Your life turns upside down, again, when Homelander reaches out to you asking you out on a date.

Author’s Note: This is set between the events of Part 1 & Part 2. It really is just a self-indulgent excuse to explore some relationship building and dynamics. Lot of awkward dialogue so be warned.

The next time Homelander contacts you it catches you just as off guard as the first time. Maybe even more so. You never expected him to turn up in the first place, let alone be interested in seconds.

Your phone is ringing on the bed and ever since the development from a week ago you’ve been on edge anytime your phone rang. You drop the towel you’re folding back on the pile of unsorted laundry and you nearly dive onto the bed, reaching for your phone. In the panic you drop it about three times, your shaky hands inadvertently playing hot potato.

“Hello?!” You yell into the phone, panicked. You don’t actually end up checking who’s calling, too worried about not accidentally hanging up. Plus it’s not like you could have saved Homelander’s number from a week ago anyway. It showed up as blocked on your phone’s call logs so you had no way to recognise his number.

“Hello there! Nice of you to pick up.” You squeaked in surprise and the voice on the phone turned from chipper to confused. “You okay? You sound a little—” And oh my god, it’s him! You’re talking to Homelander, again. Okay, okay, now it’s time to try and keep calm.

His voice is still gloriously rich and sweet in your ear and here you are about to most likely embarrass yourself again because for the life of you you’re incapable of coming across as calm and collected.

“I’m fine!” You immediately cut him off, your voice shrill and strained. He does not need to know the ins-and-outs of your internal struggle. But either way you’re already doing terribly. Who are you to cut Homelander off mid-sentence? Where are your manners? 

“Why are you—um—I mean, is there anything you need?” You clumsily make your way through your response. Definitely not how you wanted to present yourself but it’s a lot better than barely being able to say a word like last time!

“I’m taking you out on a date. Get ready for 7 today.” You heard it. You’re pretty damn sure you heard that right, yet not a single part of you believes what he said.

“Sorry? W-w-what do you mean?” You sputter in confusion, your brain simply not capable of computing this news. 

“I mean that I’m taking you out for dinner. What’s hard to understand?” He sounds irritated and your heart is pounding. From so many things at once. How are you meant to process that Homelander contacted you again, is asking you out for a date and now you’ve managed to irk him?!

Before you manage to apologize, following your typical spiel, Homelander continues. “Maybe you don’t know this but it’s kind of what men do when they want to get to know someone. You following yet?” 

You ignore the condescending remark and instead you focus on what he’s actually saying.

There may as well be steam coming out of your ears, you genuinely feel like a blushing teenage girl talking to her crush. You’re hot bright red in the face and you feel the literal heat coming off your face.

“Yeah but you’re not—well of course you are—but also you’re not! Y’know, just an average Joe.” How do you go about explaining that you don’t feel worthy of that kind of attention?

“Doesn’t matter, you’re missing the point. Is that a no?” You’d think he would be pissed saying that, who in their right mind would refuse going on a date with Homelander, but he sounds amused more than anything. 

Again with the reading you like a book. Because you barely manage to let out a barrage of “No! No no no no— that’s not!” before Homelander starts laughing.

“Alright, I’ll pick you up then.”

“No, wait! I can’t—I can’t do the public thing. You’re you! And as soon as I show up in public with you I won’t be left alone. I know that’s normal for you, but my life isn’t like that. I’m just… me.” You’re just a nobody. You don’t have a social media presence. You don’t bring attention to yourself. And you like to keep it that way. Going on a public date with America’s golden boy himself? You would be ripped apart by the online vultures. 

You all but freak out on the phone and for a second you think he disconnected because you can’t hear a thing over the line but he suddenly speaks up.

“Oh well. We can’t have that, can we? You better have dinner ready at your place instead.” You don’t need to see him to imagine him with the biggest satisfied grin on his face. “I’ll be there at 7. Catch you later!”

Homelander hangs up on you and you hear the disconnected tone ringing in your ear as you stand there like a fish out of water. Mouth gaping open, letting out disbelieving stutters. 

You pull the phone away from your ear, looking down at it as if it offended you. It’s then you notice the time. Shit shit shit. You have less than four hours to make your place and yourself presentable, go on a grocery run and start cooking for Homelander?! What just happened!

“Oh no no no no. This is not happening.” You rub your hands over your face as if to wipe the shock off your face. You’re so overwhelmed with the rollercoaster of emotions that you don’t know whether to have a panic attack, laugh nervously or downright cry.

Okay, first of all the pile of laundry is gonna have to wait. You don’t have the time to meticulously fold your t-shirts and panties. You gather up the clean and dry laundry into your hands, haphazardly shoving it into the closet before closing the door on what will be an avalanche of laundry for your future self to deal with.

With pure panic-induced energy that you haven’t felt in a long while you manage to just about make your place presentable within an hour. Finally managing to gather and clean up the mugs and glasses that have been cluttering up your surfaces, making your bed all neat and tidy—just in case—and shoving all unnecessary clutter into cupboards. It’s not like Homelander would use his x-ray vision to judge the inside of your cabinets, would he?

Speeding your way out of your apartment you make your way over to the closest shop. Standing in the fresh produce aisle you suddenly realize you don’t actually have a plan. What the fuck are you meant to cook for Homelander?! Even after all the content you’ve consumed you’re pretty sure there’s not a single mention of his favorites. At least ones he’s not been sponsored to promote. Sure, he’s on many products, ranging from frozen peas to whole milk but that doesn’t mean it’s something he genuinely endorses. After all you want to get to know the man behind the costume, a date is not meant to be just another PR interview for him!

You’re starting to look strange. People are passing you while you’re internally panicking over what to buy. What if he’s allergic to something? What if he goes into anaphylactic shock and fucking dies! Even if you had an EpiPen or he carried it on him you wouldn’t be able to stab it into him anyway. And suddenly you’ve killed the world’s most beloved superhero and you’re spending the rest of your life in jail with Vought most certainly making sure you pay your dues. Even if all of that was true you had no way of knowing. It’s not like Vought would ever leak that kind of information. Not very good for their brand to tweet that their best superhero is allergic to fucking nuts!  

You shake your head a little, snapping yourself out of your dazed state. If Homelander’s brand is anything it’s that red-blooded American male perfect standard. Surely he wouldn’t complain about some steak dinner right? Men love steaks! You just make sure to avoid most common allergens. You pick up some potatoes and other vegetables to roast along with a good pricey cut of steak that was easily out of your budget.

You get home just as fast and with each passing second you’re more and more on edge. You don’t know whether it’s the anxiety coiling in your guts or the so called ‘butterflies’ but you’ve never been this nervous before. With the clock ticking and the food cooking you’re suddenly more and more paranoid over everything. From your insane Homelander merch collection to even just the furniture you’ve got! Not that that’s anything you can change in the next hour but your mind is running at a hundred miles an hour and you’re trying to account for everything. 

Just before it gets to the agreed time you change into something nice but casual, straight after shoving the laundry avalanche back into its place. You even leave the balcony door open, doubting he’s gonna knock on your door like a normal person. 

And while you’re there focusing on platting up your best attempt at steak and roasted vegetables, you hear the familiar sound of Homelander’s landing. You whip your head towards the wall clock with such urgency it’s shocking you don’t give yourself whiplash. 

Shit. It was literally 7pm. You wanted to set the table all pretty and prep it perfectly but you got so preoccupied with the place looking as good as it can that you lost track of time. You’re sure he’s used to luxury and perfection. You want to do your best to replicate that!

“Homelander!” Comes out of you with a little gasp. You tilt your head to look at him. And what you see makes your heart skip a beat. 

There he is, in his suited-out glory per usual, except this time he’s holding a bouquet of roses with a dashing smile on his face that quickly turns into a self-satisfied grin as he immediately notices your panic at his presence. Even after he thoroughly reduced you to a puddle of goo just last week you were still such a skittish uncertain thing around him. 

“Wow, smells delicious in here.” He looks around taking it in while inhaling the mouth-watering smell of sizzling steak.

Homelander steps closer with calculated steps, checking you out without an ounce of shame. You don’t know if it’s just the pure intensity in his eyes that has you feeling on edge or if he really is undressing you with his gaze. “These,” he frees your hand, prying your palm open with his gloved hand, “are for you.” He places the bouquet of roses into your palm, squeezing it shut around the wrapped stems.

In a way you’re paralyzed. The reality of the situation finally hits you and you realize you’re really here about to have a dinner date with Homelander. Who just brought you expensive, gorgeous flowers, because that’s something that totally happens to people like you.

You’re standing there, staring at the deep rich red of the roses that actually ends up matching the cardigan you put on for this. Your little attempt at complimenting the suit you knew he'd show up in. 

Your mind is going a million miles a second and your other hand squeezes a petal in between your fingertips. There’s droplets of water on the velvety surface. You didn’t realize it was raining at the time. You look past him through a window as if you could make out the weather through the darkness of the evening.

Looking at the roses now, they look beautiful, pristine. He flew here right? How did he manage to keep them in one shape with the speeds he flies at.

“H-how did you fly with—” You don’t even finish the question before he’s answering.

“I don’t have to fly at super speeds all the time. You’d think my most loyal fan would know that.”

“You can read minds too?” Falls out of your mouth before you even think about what you're saying.

“No. You’re just very easy to read.” He places his hands on his hips, naturally defaulting to his superhero pose. 

And sure, maybe the way your eyes move in between the window, him and the flowers is a dead giveaway but you still don’t think it’s that easy to figure out exactly how your thought process works. 

He seems unhappy with your lack of enthusiastic response. He probably expected you to jump at him, wrapping your arms around him in pure glee that he’d do such a romantic thing. 

He nodded towards the bouquet, raising his eyebrows.

“Anyway, your flowers. You might want to put them in some water. Unless you plan on fondling each petal all night.” You don’t know whether he said it that way on purpose or if your absurd attraction to his voice is reaching new heights but the imagery that conjures is not one that would belong at a dinner table. There’s a different kind of petal-fondling you have in mind for later.

“Sorry! I’m sorry. And thank you. Really, this is very kind of you. They’re beautiful.” Finally, he’s satisfied with that response, his shoulders relax a bit, his chest puffing out as he sees you hold the flowers closer to you.

You’re all over the place and your movements are in no way elegant or thought out as you awkwardly stumble around, pulling out the biggest glass you could find. This ends up being a large glass measuring jug which you admit looks rather strange, and you don't miss the way he raises his eyebrow at the display. 

Well, it was a lot better than if you used the bucket you keep under the sink for cleaning. It’s not like you have a perfect pretty vase ready for this occasion. Until now you didn’t have anyone bringing you flowers and you never really bought any for yourself.

He doesn’t comment on the miserable display. Instead he focuses on how wound up you are.

“Jeez, you’re even stiffer than last time. You know I usually fuck my dates after dinner, but if you need me to loosen you up…” His crude attempt at humor and breaking the ice just has your brain screeching and halting all actions. 

“What?! No, nonono. That won’t—That’s not. I’m sorry. I’m just surprised. That you’re here.”

“I did tell you I’d come. And I’m pretty sure you’re not plating up two plates for yourself there silly.” He shakes his head while clicking his tongue, as if disapproving of your doubt. 

“I mean, I’m surprised that you want to do this. With me.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m here aren’t I? Last time I checked I asked you out, not the other way around. And trust me sweetheart, I don’t do shit out of pity.” He walks closer to you, his hand patting the side of your arm, settling his hand there and sliding it up until he reaches your jaw. The leather of his glove is cold, some raindrops still stuck in the crevices.

Although your heart rate picks up, you smile genuinely. Getting the straightforward confirmation that he wants to be here with you warms your heart. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have everything ready. I lost track of time. Do you mind just sitting down, I’ll finish up in a second.”

“Yup, can do.” He sits down at the small table slapping his palms on his thighs as he does so. Already peeling his gloves off, discarding the gloves at the edge of the table. 

You finish up the plating, trying to make it as neat as possible. You bring the plates over, one in front of him the other right opposite. “Um, do you drink beer? I got some in case you do. I know you do endorse some but I’m sure that doesn’t mean you have to consume it in your free time.”

“No thanks, never got the taste for it. Have you got milk?” 

You blank a little at the request. It’s not the typical pairing by any means but who are you to tell him what to like. Instead you comply, tucking away the little preference into the corner of your mind where you keep all your knowledge about him.

“Um, yeah. I do. Again, I got one you’ve done marketing for, just in case you did like it. I wasn’t really sure. Believe it or not there’s a lot I don’t know about you.” You admit. It’s not like everything that his Marketing team puts out is all real. You're sure they leave out any of his actual preferences so future advertisers don't clash with any competition.

“With this logic I’m surprised you didn’t buy the entire store.” 

“I was close to it.” You take the carton out of the fridge, shutting the door with your hip. “Do you want it warm or cold?” 

“Cold is fine.” You nod, pouring some into a glass placing it in front of him.

As a last touch you take two roses from the huge bouquet, popping them into a narrow tall glass filled with water and you place the romantic decoration to the side of the table before sitting down.

He strangely smiles at the gesture, something about it feeling awfully domestic. It may not be perfectly manicured but it's real and it does the job just as well. It's not a perfect setting made for a photoshoot. You're just trying to impress him with what you've got. All for his enjoyment only. And that alone makes it a lot more special. 

Suddenly being right across him really set the reality of the situation. You feel a little awkward about the setting. But there is really only so much you could have done with your small apartment. And it’s not like he hasn’t been here before. He knows what you're working with.

You watch as he cuts into the steak, stabbing it with his fork and bringing a piece to his mouth.

“Wait! You’re not allergic to anything right?!” You suddenly panic, feeling cold sweat pour over you at the thought of your irrational thoughts from earlier coming true. 

He looks thoroughly amused but he doesn’t answer and instead just takes the bite. 

“Are you always this worried on dates? Or do you get them to fill out a questionnaire beforehand?” He seems to enjoy throwing all these little jabs highlighting how much of a nervous mess you are in his presence. 

“I don’t usually cook for my dates on the first date. There’s usually nothing to worry about.”

“I did ask you out for dinner. This is your own doing missy.” He waved his fork at you, pointing at you being the one to blame.

“You think I’m—oh. I’m not complaining about this, oh my god! I just didn’t really know what you like! Surprisingly not a lot about that online. They really know how to keep you a mystery. And even superheroes have allergies! How was I to know whether you’ve got one or not? But even if you did, it’s not like Vought would release that information.” You ramble on, trying to explain yourself but you’re really just digging yourself a deeper hole. Not that Homelander looks particularly put off. If anything, the amused grin spreads to both corners of his mouth.

“You know I’m not here for the food right? Though this is not too bad. Didn’t think you had it in you.” He raises his eyebrows in appreciation. 

“I live on my own. I don’t know why you’re surprised to learn that I can cook for myself.” You said feigning offense but inside you were squealing at the compliment.

“When’s the last time you’ve had a date?” He changes the topic, with each passing moment he’s less interested in the food and a lot more honed in on you and what little secrets you can let him in on. Though he’s still happily nursing the glass of milk. 

“It’s been a while, I guess.” You’re overcome with this anxious feeling in your gut. Is it meant to be a dig at the date you’ve prepared? Is he saying that you’re not desirable enough to be dated?

He catches you off guard with his smug little smile. “Thought so. Guess you’re too busy being my biggest fan, huh?”

You nearly choke on your food, surprised and flustered by his words. The tell-tale sign of heat creeps up your neck and to the tip of your ears in embarrassment. He’s hard to read and you can’t tell whether he’s trying to humiliate you or if he genuinely enjoys the reminder of having someone fawn over him right there and then.

You put your cutlery down, softly clinking it against the plate. “Look, I’m really sorry about all that. I’m a fan but I’m not crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were.” The corners of his mouth comically pull down feigning innocence with a shrug.

You playfully roll your eyes. “You insinuated. I’m just saying I wouldn’t have all this stuff out if I knew you’d ever see it!” You wave your arm in the general direction of the rest of your humble apartment. Still littered with Homelander merch. If you had more time to prepare for the date you would have maybe even taken some of it down. Replace some posters with photos of friends or family, making you appear a lot more put together. But alas, your guilty pleasure is still blatantly obvious and out for anyone to see. It's all the worse that in this case it’s being seen by the featured star of your guilty pleasure himself.

“There’s no shame in being a fan.” 

“No, but it’s different to collect memorabilia and merchandise of a beloved superhero that you don’t ever expect to witness the madness and to actually have him see it all and feel objectified. As if all there was to him is just the plastic he can sell with his face on it.”

You don’t know why you’re getting into the heavy-duty topic of someone’s worth and value but maybe part of you just wants to present yourself as someone who cares. Someone who looks beyond the obvious. 

Homelander is similarly perturbed by your words. Clearly not used to fans taking such direction with him. Thinking about it you doubt he hears more from them beyond a predictable can I have a selfie?

He furrows his eyebrows for a second tilting his head. As if he’s trying to look into your brain to read your mind. And sure he can literally see inside your skull but it doesn’t help him understand your thoughts. So instead he digs deeper. Putting the glass of milk down he looks you straight in the eyes. 

“You don’t think that’s it?” 

His resolute question makes you pause, feeling as if you overstepped. And even if, there’s no way to backtrack anymore so you continue. “O-of course not. I know you’re more than what Vought puts out there.”

You’ve spent countless hours following the content Vought markets out to the public. All of it manicured to match his perfect brand and profile. They’re slick enough to control even the content fans put out. From conventions to random street encounters. You remember following a thread of an anonymous fan sharing their experience of getting barraged by Vought’s lawyers after they shared a post about a poor experience they had meeting one of their superheroes. You haven’t heard an update from that story in a while, god knows what happened to the fan. Maybe Vought’s lawyers managed to get their anonymous account too. 

“How would you know?” Irritation seeps into his tone, shoulders tensing, feeling exposed right before he slides back into his normal casual tone and body language as if remembering that he’s meant to be talking to a date and not some nosy interviewer trying to get the next scoop.

“I mean who hasn’t put up a face to show the world their perfect self? Whether it’s on dates or in front of friends. I just imagine that doing that in front of the whole world means there’s a lot you feel like you have to hide.” With each word you feel like you’re digging yourself a hole, ruining any chance of another date. But you’ve started saying your piece and when else are you gonna get the chance to tell the man exactly how you feel?

So you continue.

“I just think it has to be exhausting. Your entire job, your life is existing in the public eye and you can’t ever slip up? Not super-abled celebrities deal with that already but for you there’s the added burden of being seen as the superhero right? ‘Here to save us all’. I just mean, do you ever get to be yourself?”

You mean to be sympathetic, not that you could ever imagine what it’s like to be in his shoes. Being as obsessed as you are, you've watched all the footage with him. You notice how often the same lines repeat, how well he’s perfected the mask of a perfect hero. The fake humble you’re the real heroes being repeated in every video and appearance. If it was you, you know you’d have enough a while ago now. The daily grind of a job is exhausting enough but to do that all under the public’s scrutiny? You couldn’t even imagine. 

You were so lost in your little monologue, spilling all the little thoughts you had about him and his persona that you miss how his casual demeanor has once again shifted into something else. He’s less irritated but he’s tense. Even more so than before. He wears an expression you’re pretty sure you’ve not seen on him before. His jaw may not be dropped but his surprise and confusion is evident without it. 

He’s speechless. Thinking about it now, has anyone ever spoken to him in such manner before?

You watch his body language and the way he’s squeezing the fork so hard you’re sure he’s bent the metal. 

“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. It’s just once I get going I can’t stop!” 

He lets out a breathless little laugh. His shoulders release in tension. He stops gripping the cutlery and sure enough it has a bend that definitely wasn’t there before but you don’t care. He’s not pissed. He raises his free hand waving you off and stopping you from apologizing any further. Something you’ve managed to do about a hundred times since his arrival. 

“No. No, it’s fine. You didn’t.” He shakes his head a little, looking at you with a different look in his eyes. No longer just looking for a little bit of excitement, now he’s truly locked in. What else can he get you to say? “Well maybe you did a little, but color me intrigued anyway.” 

He looks at you in a way that makes you feel small. You feel like you’re on your knees praying for your god to hear out your prayers knowing it’s unlikely for him to even notice you.  

“Can't say I've heard any of that before.” He concludes, slumping back into the chair now that he's relaxed again, having lost all interest in the food you've served up.

You’re embarrassed by the call out. It’s like all your efforts to not appear like another crazy fan have been pointless. He might not seem angry but that doesn’t mean he’s about to jump at the thought of another date. You may have ruined your chances at this being anything more than mild entertainment to him so you try to save yourself. “I just mean. I have always wanted to get to know you. The you without the cameras.”

“You already have. I don’t go on dates with many fans, believe it or not. And I gotta say you’re a lot more interesting than I gave you credit for.” 

And maybe it wasn’t such a lost cause yet. Have there been many people that Homelander has ever found genuinely interesting? You wouldn’t know but at least you’re one of them.

“Oh…ah-hah thank you.” You fluster under his heavy gaze. His words make your heart skip a beat. There’s very little that can match the euphoria of your hero, the hero really, saying he finds you interesting. It’s hard to calm the pounding of your heart at the thought of a man of his caliber seeking your company out.

After all you’ve managed to blurt out you feel more at ease. It’s not awkward like you expected it to be. In a way you’ve broken the ice you didn’t know was even there.

With you both losing interest or having had enough of your meals you move to the small but comfortable couch. And like any good dinner and movie date you put on the first title that gets advertised to you on the main page of the Vought+ streaming platform.

In reality the movie doesn’t get watched. Either you let it play in the background or you pause on sections just so you can continue the conversation between the two of you. And somehow it’s still mainly you literally just rambling on about him. It’s not that he doesn’t talk or doesn’t ask questions about you but you see the way he preens at all the enamored praise you send his way. 

The only parts that do get watched is the small cameo Homelander ended up having in the title and the conversation steers back to him. He gives you all the details you ask for, more than happy to talk about how great of an actor he is. 

With each minute of sitting close to him you feel your body respond to him. You feel hot. Too warm for the cardigan you’re wearing but you don’t want to seem too forward by taking it off. Especially after knowing what kind of trouble he could get up to in between your legs it makes it very hard to accidentally brush against his thigh and not spontaneously combust.

Homelander turns around to look back into the room while you’re dealing with your internal turmoil. Would it be too unseemly for you to initiate?

Your thoughts are interrupted when his bare hand cradles your jaw, bringing you in for a kiss. The whimper you let out is embarrassing but you quickly lose track of anything that’s not his hot lips melting you into a puddle. Just as things are about to get good, just when you’re about to pry his lips open with your needy tongue he pulls away. He doesn’t go too far. You can still feel his hot breath while he rests his forehead against yours. 

“I’ll have to set off. I need to get back to Vought tower.” He hums so close to you that you get goosebumps from the way his voice turns all low and hushed. Even though the words he’s saying are anything but good news, the attractive sound still soothes you.

“Oh-kay.” You nod. A little sad but understanding that he’s got things to get to. Every part of you is holding back from pulling him in for more but as much as your fingers twitch for him you restrain yourself.

“Come on now. Don’t sound so upset.” He gives your cheek a soft little pat before placing another peck on your lips with a chuckle from behind his closed lips.

The taste of your lips pulls him in anyway and he holds you close for a few more indulgent kisses. Upon separating you’re warm and flustered. His touch always seems to have that effect on you. 

“It's just… I had a lot of fun today.” And you don't want it to be over or for it to be the last time you see him. But how do you ask him out? 

While your limbs still feel like jelly, having melted into the couch, he stands up, walking over to the little dining table where he left his discarded gloves, pulling them back on.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll be back.” He clearly reads your expression and watches as you stumble while getting up, clearly wanting to see him out before he flies off.

His words alone are good enough to lift your spirits and you let yourself show that joy outwardly.

“Thanks for today.” When’s the last time you’ve ever felt this in the moment? Even if he never came back this moment would easily be a highlight you look back on.

“Well, aren’t you sweet?” As if he couldn’t restrain himself his eyes snapped in between your eyes and lips, his eyelashes fluttering, lips parting as he took in the sight of you. So eager to please and be there for him. He wets his lips and your stomach flips at the display. The pink of his tongue disappearing as quickly as it appears.

His eyes soften, lips stretching into a lazy lopsided smile.

“Do I get a goodbye kiss?” 

And just like that with one last kiss he’s off again, returning to his duties.

This isn’t where things end with you two. If anything, your life takes a massive turn. It’s not been the same ever since you’ve won that silly competition. And it strangely makes you want to send a gift basket to whoever organized it, no matter how much you dislike Vought itself. 

At first he comes back to you seeking comfort.

He strolls in through your balcony door which you’ve gotten into the habit of leaving unlocked—just in case. It’s not like there’s anyone else eager to fly into your home. You awake at the disruption, eyes bleary and straining in the harsh light of the nightstand lamp you’ve turned on to see what’s going on.

He doesn’t explain himself as much as he just vents to you about how he’s not being respected and taken seriously. It’s the first time he’s been back since your date and you’re surprised to see him so emotive. So unlike the perfect persona or even the carefully charming guy he presented himself as during  your date.

He’s already pacing back and forth, the thud of his boots bound to disturb your neighbors below. Not that either of you care. He’s too preoccupied with being angry. And you’re too frazzled by the thought of something upsetting your hero to this degree.

You see the angry tremor in his hands and the sharpness of his teeth, highlighted by the yellow night light. You snap out of the sleepy daze and you catch his gloved hand when he paces in front of you. 

You pull him down next to you, cooing supportive words and showing your own anger at seeing him be so disrespected by Vought. You believe they don’t know how lucky they are to have someone like him. They should revere him, yet the things he lets slip in his anger make your chest tight, fueling the rage simmering inside you. 

It’s like seeing you riled up at the way he’s being mistreated is enough to calm him down. The more you seethe the more he cools down, the energy exchange working in between you perfectly. He’s pleased to have someone in his corner. Preening at how much you parrot the words he’s saying without needing to nudge you in that direction.

Swoop-in visits like these happen more regularly. Either he comes in irritated wanting to get some frustration and anger out, fucking you throughout the night until all he can think of are your moans and cries telling him it’s too much.

Or he comes in happy, excited to share the news that his numbers are up or that the public and the on-scene reporters couldn’t stop praising him after his latest save. Those days he comes in for affection and a cuddle, wanting to hear over and over again just how well he’s done since you’ve last seen him. Treating you less like a stress ball and more like a teddy bear he’s hugged against his chest in comfort. 

You start thinking how lonely he must feel. The thought that there aren’t any people around him showering him with genuine love and friendship hurts you and suddenly you want nothing more than to keep him here with you, making sure he knows just how special he is.

As much as you’ve always been devoted to this god-like being and the idea that he represented, you never got to love the person. Until now. Now the ideology alone has seeped into your never ending love, fueling the suffocating adoration you hold for him. So strong it’s eating away at you anytime you don’t get the chance to scream how much you love him.

You used to see these late night visits as something he does for his own benefit. With you always being the easiest and most effective balm to his troubled soul. You didn’t think he was serious with you. After all, this is the Homelander you’re spending every other evening with. 

So when he sends you flowers out of nowhere, effectively courting you, you start thinking that this might be turning into something real.

It starts with the first delivery at your door. A gorgeous bouquet bursting at the seams, tagged with a note saying it’s from Homelander. Since then he’s made sure to supply you with the most beautiful bouquets as if to keep a reminder of him on a daily basis. You finally invest in a pretty vase, knowing it’s going to be thoroughly used and displayed.

Your home always had touches of Homelander throughout it—some might even say too many. However, as your relationship grows you come to a realization that those really only represent Vought. It’s these new touches that really represent Homelander’s presence in your life. Like how he times the flower deliveries just right so your place is never empty. Always there to remind you to keep him at the forefront of your mind. Never wavering. 

You two haven’t officially said that you’re dating throughout these nighttime visits but it’s at the tip of your tongue each time he comes. You want to voice the love you carry for him like a burden. Overflowing from your arms with nowhere to go. And it feels like each second you don’t say it, it’s being uselessly spilled on the floor like sand falling from in-between your fingers.

Homelander has his own way of showing affection. Seeing as so much of his life has been in front of some sort of camera you wonder if thinking in advertising scripts and photoshoot visuals comes to him more naturally than casual and real gestures. As ever since he started with the flower deliveries he’s been showering you with gifts upon each visit. As if everyday had to be Valentine’s day and he had to bring something to symbolize the reason for his visit.

You call him out on that one day. 

“You know you don’t have to bring anything right? You don’t need to bribe me.” You chuckle at the gift box he brought with him. You’ve got dozens of similar gift boxes and bags that you feel reluctant to get rid of mainly for the sentimental value but the retail price associated with the gift they hold certainly doesn’t help. 

He clasps the gifted necklace around your neck. The dainty chain lays cold against your skin and your fingers gently caress the pendant with care. Your statement still rings true but you can’t help but feel giddy every time he brings you something he thought would look great on you. 

“Do you not like the things I bring you?” With a perplexed expression you see him trying to do mental math, trying to figure out why you could possibly not kneel or bow in gratitude. He watches you play with your new pretty jewelry with a squint. 

“No! It’s all beautiful—this one especially—just. I don’t want you to feel like that’s an obligatory part of you being here.” You laugh it off a little, still dreamily thinking about what it really means to get pampered to this degree. 

He breaks your thoughts with a simple sentence.

“Maybe I want to treat my girl.” 

Your eyes widen, and you let out a shocked stuttered breath.

“Your girl?”

“Yeah, duh.” He scoffs as if what he said is as obvious as the sky being blue and water wet.

“Because you’re mine, right?” You don’t see the way his eyes reflect his own complicated and simmering feelings. The tension in his jaw betrays how he needs you to acknowledge his words and speak them into an existence. But you don’t notice any of that because it’s like the dam you’ve been doing your best to hold together with safety pins finally bursts.

You’re nodding feverishly. No longer able to hold back you’re possessed to blurt out the words that have been threatening to fall off the precipice of your tongue for weeks. 

“I love you.” 

Homelander’s eyes widen. Surprised by your admission just as much as you are. Your heart is racing, suddenly feeling insane for thinking this was anything more than simple fun to him. The knee-jerk response to apologize spills easily from your lips.

“I’m sorry—,” but instead he interrupts you by cradling your jaw in his bare hands, stepping closer.

“Don’t be sorry.” He says in a low rumble, sending shivers down your spine. He leans in to give you a tender kiss. Just barely slotting in between your parted lips, pressing them against his. Before you get the chance to continue he pulls away with enough distance to speak up.

He breathes out, eyes squeezed shut in longing which to an untrained eye would just look like pure pain and frustration. But not to you. You’ve learned to read him better. 

He nuzzles his face against yours, dragging his lips across your cheek until he reaches your ear, growling a weak, “say it again.”

You’ve partially gotten used to the timbre of his voice in your ear. Capable of having a conversation without getting worked up by every word he says but the way he’s now needily begging in your ear has your body erupt in goosebumps. He doesn’t need to say please for you to hear it anyway.

“I-I love you.” You whimper out. The emotion alone feels thick in your throat, as if it was clogging up your airways anytime you come up for air. Your heart is pounding, you’re strung up, the butterflies in your stomach make you antsy. 

His hold on your jaw tightens. With a sharp intake of breath he smashes your lips together. No longer composed and tender. Your teeth nearly clash as he’s pressed you close to him. He’s prying your lips open with his, his whimpers easily falling into the press of your lips.

“Again.” 

“I love you.”

You don’t want to cry but you’re so overwhelmed with emotion the burn that turns your eyes glassy spills over and you’re dripping tears down your cheeks in pure emotional instability.

“Again.” 

And each time he asks he sounds more wrecked. 

“I love you.”

Homelander catches the tears with his tongue right before kissing the salty taste into your mouth. Not letting any of your love get wasted. You grab onto him, grasping where you can. Your hands tangle in between his as you wrap them around his neck. One hand grips as much of the fabric of his suit it can while the other tangles in his hair, pulling on it for support more than anything. 

You feel like you’re drowning. The intensity of the moment makes you gasp for air but it’s like Homelander kisses it back into your lungs like a lifeline. Hearing his shattered whimpers soothes you, his own need fueling yours, filling the void your tears are leaving behind.

He lifts you up and with practiced ease you automatically wrap your legs around him.

He leads you both to the bedroom while he’s continuously prompting you to continue declaring your love to him. Each again, again, again you reward with the three words that make him feverish and mad. The more you say it the less your heart feels like it’s about to explode from the burden it’s been carrying for too long.

Homelander quite literally rips your clothes off, not caring that he’s leaving his own recent purchases in tatters. He doesn’t want to separate his lips from your neck where he’s kissing trails across each inch of your skin.

You don’t have the luxury to treat his suit with the same carelessness. Even if you wanted to, the tough molded material would make it impossible. Instead you do what you can. Unclasping his belt, pulling at the front of his suit, pushing his pants down where you can reach.

He helps you with taking off the rest of it until he’s on top of you, skin to skin. You rarely get the luxury of lying with him fully stripped and each time you’re shocked at how hot he runs. Now his hot body is making you melt under the heat alone.

Neither of you have stopped kissing with the same intense need that has been laying there dormant for months. Anytime you have the chance you repeat the same words over and over again until they’re all you know how to say.

It’s the first time sex has felt anything more than a physical relief he comes to you for. You’re barely keeping it together as he nudges your legs a little open, sliding his hand down your body, his palm blazing hot as the anticipation makes you clench your core.

It’s by no means either one of your first times, nor it is the first time you’ve been together yet you’ve never felt more nervous. The first touch he descends onto your clit feels like a lightning bolt crackling down your spine, spreading the tingles out to your toes and fingertips.

“Ahh hah—fuck. Want it so bad, don’t you?” He looks as broken as he sounds when he hisses at the feeling of your soaked pussy. It makes his fingers glide too easily, making it harder to give your clit the precise rhythm he’s learned to make you see stars with. 

His attempt at his normal dirty talk is disrupted by his keen moans and broken whimpers. Part of you wonders whether his super senses include being able to feel other people’s sensations with the way he’s acting as if it was him getting his body set on fire.  

You hum and ahh in response, your tongue feeling incapable of saying anything but the words you’ve been finally allowed to repeat over and over again. 

His fingers easily slip inside the sloppy mess you’ve made for him and he moans right into the kiss he leans in to steal from your lips. And it feels good. The friction is perfect, his fingers are hitting the right spot inside you and the loud squelch is embarrassing and intoxicating in equal parts. Yet it’s not what you want.

It takes all your strength to reach down and pull his hand out of you, as instinctively you’re already clenching around the all too familiar emptiness you whine at every other time when he’s done with you. 

“I want you. Please. Just you.” You manage to breathe out, your hand reaching over for his hard cock. You give him a few shaky strokes, smearing his leaking precum across the entire length.

“Alright. Uh huh, okay. I’ll give it to you.” And he’s just as out of it as you as his normal cocky one-liners just break into a lot of grunts and stutters.

He wedges himself in between your thighs, spreading them wide open. His lips part with a wistful sigh while his eyes haze over with lust at the sight of your pussy spread ope, generously glistening with slick all made for him. 

He aligns his cock with your entrance, not even bothering to tease you. He’s just as strung out as you are. He splits you open with a single thrust, your slick pulling him in with an easy glide.

“I love you.” For the first time the confession spills from Homelander’s lips. A relief just as palpable falls upon him. It’s a different story for you. The words cause more tears to spill, a wet hiccup leaving your throat as you clench around him.

“Shh, shh.” He hushes you sweetly, already reaching back for you. 

He lays his body flush on top of yours and kisses your tears away, the heat and weight of his body on top yours grounds you. He repeats the words over and over again in between wet, messy kisses. He ruts into you in shallow thrusts as if he doesn’t want to part from you any second longer.

Nothing in the world exists but you two and neither one of you can believe how perfect you really are for each other. You’ve always felt like the way you love was overwhelming. It left the other person choking on the overwhelming viscosity of it all. Homelander isn’t like that. To him your love is a breath of fresh air. 

As long as you love him with the same unyielding intensity he’s yours. At this point, he wouldn’t know how to live without it.

He kisses you in a way that says just that. Needy and broken yet utterly completed by you. 

You’re both so worked up with the overflowing emotions it doesn’t take much more than his frenzied grinding to make you both reach the release that’s as emotional as it physical. Maybe even more so.

Because the reward isn’t just a good orgasm. It’s the love that fills the air, spilling into every empty crevice you didn’t manage to fill with your bodies.

Homelander’s whimpers resemble cries as he finishes inside you right as you flutter around him with the toe-curling orgasm wracking your nerves. 

It takes you a little while to regain your mental faculties after such an emotionally draining affair. You feel boneless, your limbs feel like jelly and you just lie there dazed. Focusing on the way your heart beats loud even to your ears. 

Homelander is doing the same thing. Listening to your heartbeat with his head on your chest.

After a long while you both pull yourself together. Still in bed but now you’ve managed to strike up a normal conversation again. Talking about everything and nothing.

You lie like this for what feels like hours. Having changed positions you rest your head against his chest, ear pressed to his pecs to listen in on the steady beat of his heart.

After this reveal your brain recognizes your relationship as the utmost priority. Because of that your eyes lock onto the Kuddle Buddy plush resting just a foot away from Homelander’s head. As if you were locking onto an enemy. You pluck it from the pillow, squeezing it in your hand.

You’re staring at it, still clutching it too hard. 

“What got you thinking so hard? You’re making my head hurt from how tense you are.” Homelander interrupts you from your thoughts. 

“Just you. This. I can’t look at this stuff these days without—I don’t know—rage? To know how much Vought has wronged you.” You furrow your eyebrows, assessing the innocent plush toy while it’s staring back at you with its stitched grimace.

“That’s what the toy reminds you of, really? It should remind you of me.”

“It doesn’t anymore.” Your furrowed expression slowly melts into one of content as your hand presses against your new necklace. “Things like these do.” 

“And these.” Your fingers continue to travel up your neck where they tap at the darkened patches you feel he has left behind. With soft nipping and sucking he left your neck coloured in all shades.

He plucks the plush toy from your hands, throwing it somewhere across the room with thankfully not enough strength to knock anything else over. You’re pretty damn comfortable and you’d rather not get up to assess any damage. 

“Maybe I should give you more reminders then.” 

You squeal as he easily pulls you up so his lips can meet yours, kissing your worries out of your mind.

Homelander lands on your balcony with a soft thud. It’s late in the afternoon, earlier than he normally arrives, and he doesn’t want to attract unwanted attention. Already predicting the shit Madelyn would put him through if he got caught regularly perusing outside some random person’s apartment.

His person’s apartment really. You’re not just a random boring nobody.

He makes his way in quietly, closing the door and stepping in. Each time coming back to your apartment has felt more like coming home than he’s ever felt at Vought. You’ve arranged your life around him. He’s noticed you cancel plans, call off events just so you could stay in in the evening, waiting for him to make his return.

You even make space for him in your small apartment. The state of which he’d normally scoff at but it’s hard to mock your financial situation when you manage to make the place feel warm.

His presence left its mark in the gifts you happily displayed or the flowers you always took good care of.

And of course, the insane collection of merchandise you’ve spent years accumulating.

Wait.

Where is everything?

Homelander looks around, breaking out of his routine and instead he scans the surroundings as if it’s the first time he’s ever been here. Only now does he realize that all the usual merchandise carrying his likeness is gone. No posters on the walls. No action figures on the shelves. No funko pops. No collectibles. Nothing.

Homelander feels his blood pressure rise. There’s no way you’d want to get rid of him. Not you too. You love him. You wouldn’t do that.

He finally notices the black trash bags pushed into the kitchen, still open and overflowing with all the things missing from your walls. 

His stomach flips. 

No. Nonono. This can’t be happening.

You can’t get rid of him like this. He can’t lose you. 

Not after he’s finally tasted what real love in cooking tastes like. Or what it’s like to wake up next to someone who instead isn’t pushing you away straight after sex. Someone who makes an effort for him. Not out of fear but out of love. 

He mentally compares everything you’ve changed his perception on. 

Like when you give him a gift or help him out it’s different. Vought employees being at his beck and call could never compare. 

He’s the most powerful man in the world, with means that don’t feel like they have an end yet he could never buy the love you give freely. For once, love doesn’t feel like pulling teeth. It feels like a warm embrace on a cold winter night. 

You make it easy. You don’t fake it. And most importantly you do it unconditionally. Love him through thick and thin, the devotion to him a part of your very core. Your love is overwhelming, oozing and sticky like he’s never gonna be able to get rid of it. Just like you could never get rid of him.

You’re the only one who hasn’t left him.

Exactly. It can’t be. You wouldn’t.

This has to be some kind of a mistake.

The shuffle of your slippers against the floor breaks him out of his spiraling thoughts. He looks up sharply. Seeking some sort of explanation.

“Hey baby. You’re early today—what’s wrong?” The smile drops from your face as quickly as he sees it and it’s only then he realizes his hand is shaking. He squeezes it into a fist, the leather creaking with the pressure as he takes in a labored breath with a jittery shake to his head.

“W-uh-what is… What are you doing?” He blinks rapidly, shaking his head pretending that his voice doesn’t quiver and waver the way it does. 

“Bit of spring cleaning. After we talked the other night I just can’t look at this stuff and not think how much Vought has used you. I don’t want those reminders. It’s not what I thought it was and now that you opened my eyes to it, I can’t forget. So. Out with it.” You say so casually, not picking up on the panic he’s been going through in his head.

“Oh—okay.” He lets out a visible breath of relief, his posture relaxing. “I thought—” His jaw tightens and he looks away. Thought so heartbreaking, he doesn't want to give it voice.

“You thought I was getting rid of you?” You stop what you are doing. Putting the box on the couch and instead you walk up to him, hand on his jaw you turn him back to look at you.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy.” You kiss him, and Homelander melts right into it. He lets himself melt into the loving embrace of your pliant lips.

“Good. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” When you pull away he puts his hands on your jaw, tilting your head as if he was inspecting you. Seeing if what you’re saying is true. And he can’t see a single speck of a lie with the steady beats of your heart and the taste of love on your lips.

“So what are you doing with all of it?”

“Selling it, donating or trashing some I guess.”

“Why not sell it all?”

“You can buy a Homelander poster or card at any shop for a few bucks. I'm not gonna bother with those.”

“What if I sign them?”

“Oh please don’t waste your time. You’re not here to be a show pony.”

“Nonsense, come on. Bring it out.”

Homelander ends up taking the stack of posters with his or the Seven’s likeness from the top of the trash bag, placing them on the coffee table in front of the couch. He sits down, hooking his cape out of the way. He picks up a pen off the table already signing the first poster. 

Part of him is still upset that you feel like throwing a part of him away. Is this part of him not good enough for you anymore? It’s how he found you, how he got to know you and now it feels like you’re throwing it away. 

As if you could read his thoughts you sit down next to him, placing your hand on top of his as he’s halfway through his signature.

His head snaps up towards you, expression clearly guarded while he looks you over with his piercing blue gaze.

He carries his upset so visibly it would be hard even for someone as unaware as you to miss it. His smile is tight, not even attempting to reach his eyes.

You pull the pen out of his grip, instead wrapping your hand around his. The other one goes to his hair, scratching your nails down his scalp until you reach his undercut where you play with the shortly buzzed hair.

“I’m not getting rid of you. Not now. Not ever.”

At that he leans into you, nearly purring at the pleasure your scalp massage brings him. The way you touch him with no hesitation will never cease to amaze him. There’s enough love pouring off you to almost fill the black hole in his heart. 

It was exhilarating to have someone so eager to keep him in their life. Everyone else has just pushed him away, entertained him until they got what they wanted. Not you. You give and give and give. Sometimes he’s scared you’ll run out of love to shower him with. However, one look at you tells him that the love you carry feels just as much of a burden as his need for it does to him. You free each other by sharing the love. You feed his insatiable beast of a heart and he lets you burst the dam free without feeling like you’re not allowed to.  

The posters are forgotten about. Any hurt brushed away with a press of his lips to yours. Needy and hungry, wanting to see if you can prove your words with actions. Again and again.

And you do. Like you’ve done a hundred times before and just like you will do thousands of times over.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged when I post a new Homelander fic)

@morishitoshi @ker0senebunny @itsvaleriesucka @thychuvaluswife

@nervoussystemss @littlegaaby @natliecole @thatvintagefanboy

@infinetlyforgotten @rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade

@nommingonfood

[crazyunsexycool]

Bucky getting Handsy with Sugar - Sugar you're so pretty 😏

Lottie who came back from school out of nowhere - Yes daddy mama is so pretty 😍

The amount of times Lottie has Cockblocked Bucky and Sugar is unimaginable 😂😭

😂😂😂😂 She’s the reason she doesn’t have a baby sissy…

Getting Blocked…

Warnings: implied smut. mentioned edging/orgasm denial

Bucky had been on a mission for three weeks and to say he missed you was an understatement. Of course he missed his family but he was dying to see you, feel you and just have his way with you as many times as possible.

Bucky rushes out of the meeting room after the debrief and heads home. He hears you moving around in the kitchen and he quickly makes his way to you. You don’t even get a chance to say hello before he’s pulling you in and his lips crash into yours. Bucky only pulls away to leave a trail of kissing down your neck after leaving you breathless.

“I missed you too.” You mumble as you tilt your head to the side so that he can have better access.

“I missed you so much, sugar.” He mutters against your skin. His hands roam your figure and relishing how your curves fit perfectly against him. “I need you right now.”

You giggle as the scruff of his beard tickle your sensitive skin.

“You are so beautiful.”

“She’s the pwettiest mama ever.” Lottie says innocently as she moves around the kitchen island. Her eyes light up at seeing her dad after three weeks and her smile is radiant.

But as happy as Bucky is to see her he’s also frustrated. You can’t help but laugh at conflicting look on his face so you help him out by stepping around him and picking Lottie up. It gives him a minute or two to cool down.

“Hi doll, I missed you soooooo much.” He says once he has the situation under control.

"I missed you daddy." Lottie says while peppering kisses all over his face.

"Now, what are you doing home in the middle of the week, shouldn't you be at school?"

"They let the kids out early today." You say while biting back a smile.

"Of course they did." Bucky grumbles.

"Why don't you go shower and change and we can hang out later."

"Yeah, I'll do that." Bucky nods as he sets Lottie on her feet. He grumbles all the way up the stairs.

****

Bucky had just taken off his shirt in the bathroom when the door opened and closed quickly. You gave him a sly smile as your wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

“So what was this whole ‘I need you right now’ thing you were saying?” You mumble against his lips.

“Don’t tease me, Sugar.”

You smirk as your hands travel over Bucky’s chest and down his abs to his pants. His breath hitches as you undo the button and zipper. He can’t contain himself as he starts to get hard under your touch. But just as you’re about to get on your knees for him there’s a small knock on the bathroom door.

“Mama?” Lottie calls out. There’s a strain in her voice that lets you know something is wrong. “I dwopped my juice.”

Bucky throws his head back and groans as you pull away from him.

“I’ll be right out sweet Angel.”

“Mama, my dwess is Sticky. I don’t wike it.”

“Go to your bathroom and I’ll be right there.” You say and wait for the little ‘Kay’ she gives.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” You give him a quick kiss before leaving him alone in the bathroom.

****

Bucky had never been more excited for bedtime than at this moment. Once the kids were in bed he’d have you all to himself. He was more than happy to read an extra story if it meant the kids would be completely asleep and he could have uninterrupted time with you.

You’re already in bed waiting for Bucky when he walks in and locks the door. His eyes darken as he takes in your figure on the bed. Bucky doesn’t waste his time walking over to you.

“Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” You murmur as Bucky settles over you.

His lips are on yours in a flash. You both pour all your love into the kiss. Bucky’s hands travel up and down your body before his lips do the same. You sigh happily at finally having him close again after 3 weeks. Unfortunately for both of you there’s another knock at the door.

Bucky almost growls as he rests his forehead against your midsection. He’s so close to what he needs the most but he can’t have it, he can’t have you right now.

“Friday, unlock the door.” Bucky grumbles as he moves to his side of the bed.

Lottie’s sleepy form stands in the doorway, pink teddy bear in hand.

“What’s wrong doll?” Bucky asks as Lottie makes her way over to his side.

“Can habe seepover? I missed you daddy.”

Man’s Bucky’s heart melts at the sleepy confession. And who is he to deny his doll anything? Bucky looks over to you to find that you were trying not to laugh as he pulled Lottie up and sat her down between you too.

“Can I sleep here too?” Henry’s question made you yelp since you hadn’t seen him come in. He giggles sleepily as he starts climbing over you without waiting for an answer.

So Bucky’s first night back is spent with the three of you cuddled up in bed. He can’t be completely disappointed though, just a little frustrated.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next day Bucky woke up to an empty bed. He knew you would have taken the kids to school to let him sleep in more. So he went about his morning as usual. Bucky had some coffee, did some exercise and worked on a few reports in his office. At around 11 am he gets a text from you to come home so he finishes up and heads back.

"Sugar? Is everything alright?" Bucky calls out as he walks in.

"Everything's good."

Bucky walks further into your shared home only to stop in his tracks when he finds you at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him. You were wearing nothing but a robe, hair and make up done. His eyes went straight to your red painted lips.

"Are you going somewhere?"

"Nope. We are staying right here. Steve asked if he could pick up the kids from school and have a sleepover and who was I to deny that request?" You smirk. "Isn't that so nice of him?"

Bucky nods dumbly in response. His body already reacting to the implication that you'll have the rest of the day to yourselves. He's been dying to get his hands on you and showed you just how much he's missed you. But of course it couldn't be that easy. He takes one step towards you and feels like he's being held back, specifically by his left are. Bucky looks at the offending appendage in confusion before he looks back at you.

"Easy there tiger. I spent all morning getting ready for you and you're planning to throw me over your shoulder like a cave man?"

You were the one holding him back. Bucky's eyes darken as he stares you down. His jaw goes slack as you take off the robe and show off the lingerie you were wearing just for him. You looked divine but Bucky wanted to wipe off that little smug smirk you had.

"Sugar, if you don't let me go right now, I won't let you come."

Just like that you let him go. Bucky didn't waste any more time, he marched towards you and did exactly what you said and threw you over his shoulder. You couldn't help but laugh as he practically ran up the stairs and threw you on the bed.

Bucky sighed in relief as he took off his shirt and looked down at you. "Finally, just you and me."

You sit up and help Bucky get rid of his pants. As he begins to kiss you the doorbell rings and he groans.

"You have got to be kidding me. I'm going to murder whoever is on the other side of the door." Bucky says as he starts to get up.

He only stops when you start laughing. Bucky's eyes narrow in suspicion the longer and harder you laugh.

"Was that you?" He asks.

"I'm sorry. I had to do it. You should've seen your face." You start laughing again.

"Oh Sugar, you really shouldn't have done that." The tone in his voice has you stop. He wraps his fingers around your ankle and pulls you towards him. "Now you're really gonna get it."

"I hope so."

Bucky smirks. He takes his time with you. Maybe he even brings you right to the edge of bliss but stops before you're able to orgasm. You pout and tell him it's not fair. But he doesn't budge. Bucky keeps his promise and doesn't let you come, only a few times though.

After he's made his point he shows you just how much he missed you those three weeks. And most importantly, there are no little cockblockers around to stop him.

[genderqueerdykes]

Hey I just wanted to say that today someone in class was presenting about aniamls and used the h word for being intersex and when I corrected them they said cool and where open about learning. I am not intersex myself but I am trying my best to help educate and be educated.

Ps I don't have people that would understand so I just wanted to share how people where super open in class.

Also your blog is the best sorry if this comes of werid.

hello there!

that's a little troubling to say the least. the word "hermaphrodite" is appropriate and acceptable when referring to other animals, such as snails, for example. they are hermaphrodites due to having complete sets of 'male' and 'female' reproductive organs. they can take either role when reproducing, the word hermaphrodite or hermaphroditic is used for these types of animals

however in humans that's just not the case. our bodies do not work like that. intersex people do not develop complete, functioning sets of reproductive organs, both a penis and vaginal canal, clitoris, uterus, scrotum, prostate, and so on. intersex people can have a lot of these features but we do not develop 2 complete, functioning sets of genitals. we will have bits and pieces from male and female anatomy, and/or hormonal imbalances

i hope people learn the differences between these terms, and how these biological occurrences in sex occur and why they do. they're not similar in that it serves a direct reproductive purpose for animals to be hermaphroditic but with humans intersex conditions occur for different reasons.

thanks for stopping by, sorry you had to hear about that. good luck, thanks for also wanting to educate yourself to help others not spread myths about intersex people. feel free to stop by again

[vodika-vibes]

Hello the wonderful and amazing Vod'ika!! I hope you're having a good time with the 800 followers event, because you deserve it! Also, congrats!!!

I have a potentially messy one? Feel free to yeet it in the bin if it doesn't really work for the event.

Buuuuut a couple months ago, you wrote a story with Bacara, Neyo, the reader, and a little munchkin.

For the event, could you do that trio and the kiddo going on a hay ride? Nice and wholesome 🥰

Again feel free to yeet it if a poly isnt the vibe for the event 💜

Being Together

Summary: After a long day at the orchard, your small family decides to end the day with a hay ride.

Pairing: Commander Bacara x F!Reader x Commander Neyo

Word Count: 944

Prompt: Hay Ride

Warnings: None

A/N: Thank you for your request! I'm more than happy to write for this little family, so I'm glad you asked for them! This is a companion piece to THIS fic

Click HERE to be added to the taglist

“Can we go on the hay ride before we go home? Please, mom?” Little Niko asks as she tugs on your hand, “You and me, and Daddy and Papa?”

You smooth your hand over Niko’s head, “You still have energy? You’ve been climbing trees all day.”

“A hay ride doesn’t cost energy!” Niko declares with all of the authority that a 6-year-old can muster.

“Oh? Is that right?”

“Please, mom? Please?”

“Oh, alright. Since you’ve been so good today.”

“Yay!”

“What are we ‘yaying’ about?” Neyo asks as he walks over, his hands now empty of the many bags of apples that the four of you managed to pick today.

You’re going to have so many pies and tarts and jams—

“Papa! We’re going on the hay ride!” Niko releases your hand and runs over to Neyo to take his hand, “Where’s daddy?”

“I’m here,” Bacara says from the left, he’s holding a tray with four styrofoam cups, “I got some hot drinks for us.”

“You did!?”

“Calm down, Bug.” Bacara chides as Niko gets a little louder in her excitement, “There’s no need to yell, we’re right here.”

“Oops, sorry.” Niko runs over to him and takes the smallest cup from him. “Mom said that we can go on the hay ride.”

“I heard.” Bacara glances at you and flashes a sympathetic smile, “Mom’s a little exhausted it looks like.” He hands you a styrofoam cup, “Herbal tea for the lady, and then caf for us, vod.”

“You’re the best, Cara.”

“I see how it is, I get stuck as a pack mule and Bacara is the best.” Neyo’s voice is lightly teasing as he takes his cup from Bacara and then slides his free arm around your waist.

“Well,” You smile up at him, “Everyone knows Cara is the cute one.”

Neyo chuckles and lightly kisses your temple, “Sure, sure. You keep telling him that.” His hand moves to stroke your back, “You good?”

“Exhausted,” You admit honestly, “Running around after a 6-year-old isn’t easy.”

“Well, the good thing is that the hay ride is nice and relaxing,” Bacara says as he makes sure that Niko isn’t planning on running off by holding onto the hood of her jacket.

“Speaking of the hay ride, there it is.” You say, glancing to the side as the cart comes to a stop not far from where the four of you are standing.

“Hay ride! Hay ride!” Niko cheers as she tries to run towards the cart, only to get scooped up into Bacara’s arms, “Hey!”

“You know better, Niko.” He warns, “If you don’t start behaving we’re going home.”

“Sorry, daddy.”

“Trade you, vod. You’ve been on Niko duty for the last hour,” Neyo says easily as he releases you, takes Niko from Baraca, and then heads toward the cart.

You watch as Neyo and Niko get settled on one of the hay bales, with Niko kneeling on his knees so she’s able to look over his shoulder out the cart, and you lift your comm to snap a picture. 

General Gallia will never believe that Neyo is a good dad, so picture evidence is important.

“You’re turn, cyare.” Bacara offers you his hand to help you onto the cart, and then he steps up as well. He sits next to you on a bale and wraps an arm over your shoulder, tugging you in so that you’re tucked against his chest.

As the cart starts moving, you snuggle closer to Bacara’s side and close your eyes. With Cara pressed against you, Neyo’s feet tangled with yours, and your boys having a low conversation about something unimportant, you can almost pretend that you’re back home.

Well, save for the chill that is determined to cut through your jacket. That kind of ruins the daydream.

You open your eyes when you feel Bacara laugh. You glance up at him, and then follow his gaze to a long-suffering Neyo, who is balancing both his caf and Niko’s hot chocolate, as well as Niko herself, who has fallen asleep against his chest.

“Ah, she overdid it.” You lean forward to take Niko’s cup from Neyo and then settle back against Bacara.

“Well, she has been going at full speed since we got here this morning,” Neyo points out as he adjusts Niko so she’s settled a little more comfortably against him, “I’d be more surprised if she didn’t fall asleep.”

“Well, I can understand why,” You admit with a shrug.

“Oh? Care to share with the class?” Bacara asks as he plays with the ends of your hair.

“Mm, you both were gone for four months and when you came back she had to go to school. This is the first day where she’s been able to spend all day with you in months.” You smile at them, “She missed you both. Almost as much as I did.” Your men favor you with soft looks, looks that are reserved for you and you alone, and you grin at them. 

“We didn’t plan to be gone at the same time,” Bacara mutters.

“I know, and you’re back now. Four months just seems like an eternity when you’re six years old.” You shift to kiss Bacara’s cheek, and then you reach over to Neyo to squeeze his hand, “But enough of that, let’s enjoy the hay ride before we go home, yeah?”

Bacara squeezes your hip and Neyo squeezes your hand, both of them saying, without words, that they love you, and then you settle back against Bacara and join their quiet conversation.

This really is the best way to spend time with your family, even if it’s exhausting.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@Mira-Loves-Star-Wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

[nieded]

RR has quickly become my one of my top goto comfort fics (series in this case). I wonder what are yours?

hello! this is a really lovely ask. i'm happy that #rr is a comfort fic for you! i also found a lot of comfort writing it for personal reasons.

i think a highly overlooked fic in fandom that i love is (Slow) Burn, Baby Burn by orchidlocked, E, s1 canon-compliant, 278,780k. i think about this fic a lot, how prior to season 2, it fit so seamlessly into canon, how it made my heart ache, how i related to crowley from the opening chapter just from the way he listened and processed music. there are a lot of challenging things in this story that made me feel uncomfortable but in a good way. in many ways, it made me feel seen.

for other long fics i love dearly, i must also include The False and the Fair by @princip1914, E, AU, 173,064k. it's a captivating story that is brilliantly written. the author is a master at using literary devices and good foreshadowing, so it's technically exquisite as well as just being an incredible story. there's a point in the story (if you know, you know), where i had to put it down, scream, and take myself for a walk.

and

stalwart sun, wily moon by @dustandhalos, M, AU, 369,969k. do you want an incredible art heist story with well-thought-out plot twists, its own accompanying illustrations, and beautiful prose? well, this story is for you! i actually had the pleasure of reading this for the first time as a printed book, which was a special and amazing experience in and of itself.

these two fics above are rec'd a lot (and for good reason!) so here are two more that i rarely ever see.

Curse of the Witchfinder by KitschyKit, M, s1 canon-compliant, 2,244k. i have had many bi people reach out to me about #rr to say they were glad to finally find a fic with good bi representation. well, Curse of the Witchfinder was that for me. and on top of that, i love reading about an older queer because we don't see that in media today. in part, it's because young and sexy sells, but also, we lost a whole generation of gay men to the AIDS epidemic. there's something about this story that undoes me and leaves me completely exposed in so few words.

and

side effects by @darcylindbergh, E, canon-compliant, 7,704k. this is a story about being loved in spite of illness or disregard for illness. it is amazing to me how this is a story about supernatural beings, and yet it feels so human. it's as if someone laid me flat under a microscope.

and so i guess a theme to these recommendations is that i find great comfort in stories that bear the ugliest and most frightened parts of me with love.

[daydreamofrevi]

𝗘𝗣𝗜𝗦𝗢𝗗𝗘 𝗢𝗡𝗘 - 𝗥𝗔𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗟 𝗗𝗢𝗘𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗠 𝗢𝗙 𝗔𝗕𝗡𝗢𝗥𝗠𝗔𝗟 𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗔𝗖𝗧

► ACT ONE: rascal does not dream of purple hat guy

─ episode one: the famous actor "scaramouche"

previous episode, masterlist, next episode

.

You, a teenager with [hair color] and [eye color], stares up at the ceiling of the small room.

"Hey, do you want a kiss?" His voice echoed beside you causing you to turn to him

'I know it wasn't a serious offer. He was clearly messing with me.'

.

.

.

'Wait, who is he?'

.

.

.

You yawned stretching your arms as you opened the curtains of your window. When you went over to leave your bedroom, you noticed a notebook laying there open in your desk.

You look at it confused but picked it up to read the contents inside:

“What is written hereafter is truly something unbelievable, but everything is the truth, so make sure to read until the very end. You have to."

"What the hell is this?" You muttered, but reluctantly read more.

"May 6th. I met a wild hat guy, ___________ ______."

You titled your head. 'Huh? It's blank?'

.

.

.

.

.

.

───────────────

MAY 6TH, 2014

───────────────

.

You browsed through the novel section, glancing at each cover before moving onto the next ones. You knelt down and grabbed a book from the bottom of the bookshelves.

You normally didn't visit the local library, not intentionally but whenever you do see it sometimes when you are out, you take the time to check what do they have in store today.

But after getting a bunch of learning books for kids, you decided to check the usual aisles of genres you normally read.

However, as you flipped through the pages of the book you picked, you suddenly perked up at the sight of something totally strange that walked past you.

.

A boy with indigo hair that seems one year older than you walk around with such exquisite yet strange clothing. It was mostly black with red, purple, and gold accessories and accents that helped make him stand out. It definitely didn't look like something an ordinary person would wear, as of today. You didn't know much but it seems like clothing back in old history.

You can't help but find him attractive but what caught your attention was his hat that was more noticeable since it was something people wouldn't usually see them wear. It reminded you of some of the hats you usually see, but you haven't really seen someone wearing it.

You were baffled when that guy with such a nonchalant and calm expression just went around looking like this especially in a library, but what confused you was that nobody seemed to take notice of him.

He seemed to be going around, waving to some at people's faces and even sitting at some working tables and yet no one seemed to see him.

"What the hell?" You muttered. You, who was still in an aisle, walked slightly towards him while rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren't imagining, and he was still there. It confused you even more and questioned how everyone but you were not seeing him.

You snapped out of your own thoughts when your eyes met. He didn't seem to react at first as he made his way towards you and waved his hand in your face.

You stared at his soft hand before looking up and finally muttering. "Uhm, hello?"

He was still calm as ever, but you caught the slight surprise in his eyes. He backed up before saying. "You can still see me?"

You nodded, confused. He stared at you before suddenly walking away without a word.

'The hell?'

Before he could take himself out of the door, you followed him, saying. "Um, you’re Raiden-senpai, aren’t you?"

As he was talking to you earlier, you finally realized who he was. He has forever been the talk in the media so you immediately recognized him and his voice gave it away. But also-

The boy looked back at you. "If you’re calling me “senpai”, it means you go to Hoyoshin High School, right?"

"I'm [Name] [Last Name], a second year."

"I'm Scaramouche Raiden, a third year."

You nodded, muttering. "I know. You’re a celebrity."

"I’ll give you one warning." He said, looking into your eyes deeply. "Forget about what you saw today. Also, I better not hear a word that you saw me in this, and we will remain as strangers."

"If you understand, then say “yes”."

You just gave him a confused stare and that somewhat agitated him, making him let out a scoff but he didn't bother as he turned away and walked out of the library.

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'Interesting.' You shrugged before going back to browse.

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───────────────

MAY 7TH, 2014

───────────────

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Ever since your encounter with the said actor, you couldn't get your mind off of it. Hell, you'd say you couldn't even sleep normally because of it. You even relive that moment by having a dream of him back in the library.

He said to forget but there was no way you could.

You stirred awake as the slight ray of sunshine beamed through your opened window. Rubbing your eyes tiredly, you glance down to notice something adorable that made you smile.

You quietly went out of the bed before grabbing your blanket to tuck your sister in more. But she seemed to awake at the action, making her groan and look up to see you.

"Good morning, Qiqi." You smiled.

"Mm... Morning, [Name]..." She sat up, mimicking your actions of rubbing her eyes.

"You came back to my room last night?"

"I couldn't sleep that well... I came here to sleep better."

You laughed, patting her head. "Well, you are welcome anytime, okay, Qiqi?"

She smiled slightly, nodding.

"Come on, let's go make breakfast together." You helped her out of your bed, carrying her in your arms and walking out of your small bedroom.

.

In Hoyoshin High School, everyone walked up to the campus all together whilst talking and catching up to each other. Even though it was completely packed every time, it's always been like this.

And you usually walk alongside with two of your friends since you normally see them often than most of your other friends who you later see in classes.

"Hey, Albedo?" You started as two of your friends' glance at you, especially the platinum blonde boy. "...If you were to see someone that dresses up like a prince or something magical, what would you do?"

"...Very interesting description, [Name]." He chuckled slightly, confused. "Although, I probably wouldn't do anything."

"Why not?"

"Maybe that person likes to dress up like that."

"They'd just be a psycho then."

"...How about you, Kaeya?" You said, glancing at your other friend.

The blue haired boy shrugged, grinning. "I guess I only just gawk at their outfit, y'know?"

"Hmm, yeah."

Just then, your eyes trailed over and noticed someone familiar, he was walking alone although he did receive glances and stares from the people walking beside him before they quickly went back to talking to their friends.

He was clutching his bag while keeping his head down

"...Hey, you guys see Raiden-senpai there, right?" You asked blankly.

"Mhm." Albedo nodded, glancing to who you were looking at.

"What do you guys know about him?"

Kaeya stared at the back of his head as he replied. "Well, he is a celebrity. But I heard he was on a hiatus."

"Why?"

"Dunno."

The platinum blonde boy glanced at you with a curious gaze. "Are you interested in Scaramouche, [Name]?"

The other friend smirked slightly. "I bet they moved on from y'know who, even though they have no chance."

You shrugged, nonchalantly. "I wasn't going to ask him out anyway, let alone be in love with him."

"Watch it, he might be your future boyfriend, y'know?"

"He's attractive but I doubt it."

Despite that, you look back onto his figure. Even though he's popular around the media, you barely see him with anyone, and he doesn't really interact a lot with your school so you can't tell what kind of person he is.

All you can know from him is that he dresses up fancy in libraries.

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"I heard from a senpai from my club that apparently Raiden didn’t come to school at the start of his first year." Albedo said, getting out his lunch.

You still ended up being a bit more curious than usual before and luckily you had two amazing friends to tell you more about this purple hat wearing guy and they are just here to report back to you as you three eat lunch.

You titled your head at the info. "Why?"

"Because of work. He declared that he was going on hiatus straight out of middle school, but he was locked into some prior titles, so he was apparently busy. He didn’t seriously go to school until after summer break."

"That's quite rough for him." Kaeya commented whilst eating.

"It is."

You hummed, glancing down before taking a bite out of your sandwich.

'Raiden-senpai, the celebrity who started school midway through the first year, is totally an outsider.'

'Once the class takes its shape, it doesn’t change easily. Others will talk behind your back if you stand out, calling out annoying or a show-off.'

'And once that happens, everyone knows that there’s no going back. That’s the kind of atmosphere a school has.'

'Nobody can approach Raiden-senpai to talk to him.'

'They don’t want to stand out or be isolated. That’s why Raiden-senpai is also reading the situation and pretending to act accordingly.'

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After school and saying quick goodbyes to your friends, you walk down the empty street before reaching the train station. You let out lots of yawns on the way because school was always tiring.

When you reached it to wait for the train, you then noticed him.

Scaramouche was also seemingly here for the train as well, waiting as he stood there with his eyes closed and earphones.

"That’s gotta be Scaramouche Raiden!"

"Huh?"

You glance to see two people, one already with their phone out as their friend stands beside them, their eyes looking behind the back of Scaramouche who still stayed like that calmly.

"See? That’s totally him! I’ll take a pic just in case." The one with the phone grinned while the other laughed in fascination.

They tried zooming in a bit more to get his face since they were facing behind his back. "Come on, look this way a bit more."

You acted quickly and calmly walked over to be in the phone's vision, blocking Scaramouche from it.

Their eyes widen, lowering their phone. "Oh… Huh? Wh-Who the hell are you?"

You stared at them blanky and spoke. "I’m a human. What are you, an ogling photographer?"

"Wha?! Why, you!" They were about to retaliate but their friend stopped them.

"Stop that. Let’s go." They said, tugging at their arm and the two walked away.

As soon as they left and you can barely see their figures, you silently went over beside Scaramouche.

He seems to take note of your presence as he removes his earphones, looking over at you. "Thanks."

"Huh?" Your eyes widen slightly, a bit taken back.

"What? Did you think I’d get mad and tell you to mind your own business?"

"Yes."

"I thought about it, but I’m holding it in."

"Then I wish you didn’t say that, either."

He sighed, looking up ahead. "I’m used to stuff like that."

"Even so, it wears you down inside, doesn’t it?" You mumbled, following his gaze.

"Not like I can do anything about it."

Then Scaramouche picks up his phone to see his manager calling, but he let it ring and not picking it up.

"Are you not going to answer that?" You asked curiously as the train finally arrives and stops in front of you both.

Scaramouche turned off his phone. "The train is here. Besides, I know what that woman wants."

.

You'd never think you would sit next to a famous celebrity on your way to school, but you thought it was honestly fine since he was your upperclassmen. But the thought of sitting next to a celebrity did make you think in many different ways.

You slightly glance at him who had a nonchalant expression as he stared down at his phone. Even though this felt quite awkward, you'd thought his good looks made up for it.

"About that thing yesterday…" You started a topic as a conversation, but he quickly cut you off.

"I warned you to forget about it, didn’t I?"

"That outfit was too majestic to forget."

"Don't tell me you started to get erotic thoughts about me in that outfit."

"And if I was?"

He shrugged, glancing down at you. "Well, I'm totally fine with it."

You look up and meet his eyes. "Really?"

"Only if they are younger people."

"What if I was an old geezer?"

"Then die."

"Gladly."

Scaramouche scrolled something through his phone as he changed the topic. "Hey, [Last Name]."

"You remembered my name." You muttered with slight joy.

He ignored your comment as he continued. "I saw the rumors about you, something about a violent incident where you sent three classmates to the hospital."

"I’m honored that you’d take an interest in me."

"It’s really amazing, all this information about one individual being out in the open like this."

He opened and showed his phone out to you making you lean forward to read it yourself.

.

1) [Name] [Last Name] - Sent 3 Classmates To The Hospital After A Violent Incident in Middle School. They moved outta Liyue - where'd they go?

2) What's this Hospitalization Incident?

3) So scary lolol

.

You hummed, but didn't really react much. "I didn’t know it was written about to this extent, though."

He raised an eyebrow. "You don’t look it up yourself?"

"I don't have a smartphone." You said, leaning back on your seat.

Scaramouche stared at you, eyes widening slightly. "Really?"

You crossed your arms. "I used to, but I got frustrated and tossed it into the ocean."

He stared at you with slight bewilderment and a bit of annoyance. "At least throw trash in trash cans." He sighed, looking out of the train's window before speaking again.

"You don’t have any friends, do you?"

"I do. I have three, even."

He gazed back at you again. "Can you say “even” with just three?"

You shrugged. "They came to me first. I appreciate it, really. But if no one else wants to be my friend, then I don't mind at all."

"So, you basically don't socialize?"

"Not really. It's too much of a hassle. All I can do is really just make my friends my friends for the rest of my life."

"Well, good luck with that, I suppose." You then turned to him, your expression remaining blank but has a hint of curiousness. "So, what did you think about the hospitalization incident rumors?"

He hummed, thinking before responding. "It’s pretty clear after some thought. Someone who caused such a huge incident couldn’t attend school like nothing happened."

"I wish my class could hear that."

"If it’s wrong, then you need to tell them as such."

"A rumor is kind of like the atmosphere, isn’t it? Lately, the atmosphere is something you need to read. That “atmosphere” labels you as a bad person if you can’t read it. And the people creating that atmosphere don’t have a sense of participation, so it’s foolish to try and fight against the atmosphere."

"So you’re leaving misunderstandings be and giving up before even fighting."

You nodded and he stayed silent after that. He was seemingly trying to process your perception since he couldn't help but agree with it.

You couldn't contain yourself and asked again, glancing over.

"Your turn to talk, Senpai. What was all that about yesterday?"

"Didn't I say to forget this?"

"I want answers."

"You won't stop asking until I tell you, will you?"

"Yes."

He sighed, looking down at his lap for a bit. You feel like you'll hear a lot more about his thoughts through a long story but you were ready to listen to it.

"I made my debut when I was six years old."

"After getting the lead role for the morning drama series, I was always in the public eye with television, movies, and commercials."

"There wasn’t a day when I didn’t see Scaramouche Raiden on TV." You commented.

He nodded, continuing. "It was fun in the beginning, but it gradually became more stressful. People would notice and say “that’s Scaramouche Raiden” everywhere I went…"

He said as the train finally came up to your guys' stop, you both sat up and walked out of it but Scaramouche continued while you listened beside him.

"… and at some point, I started wishing that I could go to a world where nobody knew who I was."

"I first noticed that people weren’t able to see me at the beginning of a four-day weekend."

"On a whim, I went to the aquarium."

"Alone?" You asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that bad?"

.

The boy was lucky nobody seemed to recognize him since that would've caused chaos a bit and that allowed Scaramouche to walk around the aquarium freely.

But he yelped, bumping into someone's shoulder. He looked behind to see that person talking to someone and not even sparing a glance at him.

He thought a bit rude, of course.

And when walking around a few moments later, he moved out of the way for someone when they were about to bump but they didn't seem to acknowledge him either and just continued on.

He looked around, bewildered and off-guard.

.

"I thought it was just me at first since they were focused on viewing the fish."

"But when I stopped in a cafe on my way home…"

.

"Uh, excuse me?"

He entered the cafe and quickly going over to a waiter who was cleaning up a table yet he didn't see to hear him as he was still cleaning.

Scaramouche thought he didn't hear him so he spoke a bit louder. "Excuse me..."

Just then, the cafe's door opened with the bell ringing causing the waiter to turn to the door, welcoming in another customer with a smile. "Welcome."

Scaramouche was literally in between the two and it was like he wasn't there at all, making him more shock than ever.

.

"Was it a shop where you did something so terrible that they banned your patronage?" You asked, standing beside Scaramouche as he opens a locker in the train station.

"Of course not." He muttered.

You glance down and noticed something interesting. "Senpai, your foot…"

"Is something wrong with my foot?" He said, slightly pressing his shoe more on your own foot.

"No, I’m ecstatic that you’re stepping me."

"How thoughtful." Scaramouche snickered, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, I quickly left the cafe and went home, but after returning to back, everyone saw me normally."

"So I went around, seeing if something similar would happen in other places." He closed the locker to pull out the bag containing the fancy purple and black outfit you saw him once yesterday in the library.

You hummed, realizing. "So that’s why you were dressed like that."

He looked back at you, smirking slightly. "Looking like this, people would stare if they saw me, right?"

"True, I did gawk at your outfit, especially your hat."

"And not my face?"

"Well, your face was the best part." You went up to follow and catch up to him. "So you’re going out as a wild hat guy again today?"

"That's a dumb name but I'll take it. And, yes I will so don't get in my way."

Scaramouche stopped by a small stall inside with you watching from behind.

"One dark chocolate bun, please." The lady running didn't respond at all, only just fixing up the money in the cash register.

He frowned, a bit frustrated, slightly raising his voice. "Excuse me. One dark chocolate bun, please."

No response which made him silent, looking down.

You stared at him before asking loudly. "Excuse me. One dark chocolate bun."

The cashier looked up, responding to you with a kind smile. "Okay. Just one?"

"Mhm." You nodded. As the cashier worked on the order, you glance at Scaramouche with slight pity. Seeing that he's slowly becoming invisible to everyone was concerning.

He met your gaze before looking away.

.

"Aren’t you at all troubled by this?" You frowned as you both walked out of the train station together.

Scaramouche held and looked down the bun you bought for him in his hand. "Yeah. Not being able to eat dark chocolate buns here is a problem."

"But do you actually believe this insane story of mine?"

"I know what stories like this are called."

You glanced at him, muttering. "It’s “Adolescence Syndrome”, right?"

He stopped momentarily before turning to you with a firm gaze.

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───────────────

ADOLESCENCE SYNDROME:

Abnormal Experiences During Adolescence Due To Sensitivity And Instability

───────────────

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"Adolescence Syndrome, huh… "

You both walked together on an almost empty street together as the sun was setting down. You'd never thought you would let a celebrity as famous as him let you walk you back home.

You recounted back at what you know. "Hearing other people’s thoughts or seeing another person’s future or swapping bodies with someone else… Rumors of that nature started being called Adolescence Syndrome, though nobody knows who coined the term."

"That’s just an urban legend." Scaramouche scoffed before looking up to where you both stopped at. "Hm? What’s this?"

"My apartment."

Seeing the slight skeptical look, he was giving you, you responded quickly. "I won’t do anything to you. There’s something I’d like to show you so you’ll believe me when I say that I believe you."

.

You opened the door and allowing him to step inside first before you closed the door behind.

He glanced around, seeing the tiny living room and the small dining table in the corner and the only separate room was the kitchen was just as cramped as everything around.

He didn't want to press and question anything so he went up and follow you to your room.

Scaramouche glanced around, crossing his arms while humming. "Hmm… You keep it rather clean."

"Senpai, you-"

He cut you off, slightly annoyed. "Stop with that “Senpai” thing. I don’t recall ever becoming your senpai."

You titled your head. "Then Raiden-san?"

"I don't really prefer the '-san' a lot. Besides, I'm not really a big fan of my last name."

"Then Scaramouche?"

"My name is a big too long."

"Then how about I shorten it? Scara?"

"Hmm, that works I guess." He looked around the room again as he said. "I'm not really liking [Last Name] so I'll just call you [Name]."

Scaramouche then looked back before gasping and blushing at you suddenly removing the top of your school uniform and you did it with a nonchalant expression like you didn't even care at all.

"Wh-Why are you stripping?! You said you weren’t going to do anything!" He blushed madly, glaring before looking away. "You're Filthy! Perverted! Exhibitionist!"

You throw away your shirt to reveal your chest having three giant claw marks across. It's a permanent scar since it was dried and not bleeding on your chest. (a/n: for females- your wearing a bra in this and for males- you aren't, okay? lol)

Scaramouche looked down in slight shocked, frowning. "Ah… That’s real, isn’t it?"

"You think there are idiots who’d wear special make-up like this?" You muttered.

He approached you warily, a bit concerned. "Can I touch it?"

"Go ahead." You shrugged.

Reluctantly, he only touched the scar a bit carefully but that touch caused you let out a noise.

"Ooh."

"Don't make any weird noises." He glared up at you.

You mumbled, staring up at the ceiling. "It’s a bit sensitive there, so please be gentle."

He hummed, trailing his finger down slightly. "Like this?"

You let out a small blush. "Ah… That feels really good."

Then that blush faded away when Scaramouche pinched your stomach caused you yelp and scream out of pain.

"Gah… Ow! Let go!"

"You just seem to be enjoying this." He stared at you in annoyance before releasing. "Well? How'd you get those scars?"

You rubbed your stomach as you shrugged. "Actually, I’m not really sure."

You pulled something from your desk's drawer and showed it to Scaramouche.

He took it before his eyes widening slightly at the picture.

A small girl with purple hair sat on a chair as there were small different cuts all over her body of arms, legs, and face.

"That's is my little sister Qiqi. She wasn’t assaulted or anything, just bullied on the internet."

"I don’t get what you’re trying to say." He muttered.

"There was something about not replying to a message… A girl who was the leader of her class started hating her, and people wrote all sorts of insults in social media groups. And then, one day…"

.

"Welcome home, Qiqi." You smiled at her before going back to play your video games.

"[Name]..." She muttered weakly.

"Hm? What's wrong-" You gasped, exclaiming.

Small bloody cuts appeared suddenly formed and appeared all over her face, arms and legs making you shocked.

You were confused at how cuts formed everywhere all at once, it was something completely phenomenal.

"Qiqi!"

.

You frowned, remembering that memory. "This is why I believe Adolescence Syndrome really exists."

Scaramouche look up solemnly before his eyes trailed over. "Then is your wound from back then, too?"

You nodded. "I have no idea how or why. I awoke one morning covered in blood and was hospitalized."

"Ah… Is that the truth behind the hospitalization incident?"

"Yeah, I was the one sent to the hospital."

Suddenly, your bedroom door opened, and you both turned to see Qiqi peaked over cautiously as she nervously opened the door.

"[Name]...?" She muttered before her eyes darted over to Scaramouche who was sitting on your bed. She seemingly flinched at the sight of a stranger

You smiled, reassuringly. "Don't worry, Qiqi. He's a senpai from my school."

He nodded to the little girl. "I'm Scaramouche Raiden, nice to meet you."

She stared at him in slight fascination before she muttered something under her breath.

You leaned forward, smiling. "She says her name is Qiqi [Last Name]."

Then you noticed your cat entered the doorway with Qiqi muttering also about her

You turned back to Scaramouche. "And she says this is our cat, Xue."

"Hmm, thank you for telling me." Scaramouche glanced at her.

Qiqi nodded silently before walking off back to her own room.

You chuckled slightly and turned back to the indigo-haired boy. "Sorry about that. She’s very nervous towards strangers. Nowadays, she loves the house so much, she doesn’t even go to school anymore."

"So she doesn’t know about me?" He asked.

"That’s because she doesn’t watch much TV. For Qiqi, distancing herself from the internet subsided her symptoms from Adolescence Syndrome. That’s why I threw my smartphone into the ocean."

He stared at you, looking back down on his lap before muttering. "So you’re saying my case bears similarity to this?"

"I mean, you’re reacting to the atmosphere at school perfectly. So to avoid making the situation any worse, it’s better for you to return to show business."

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow, staring at you in slight confusion. "Why’s that?"

"If you stand out a lot on TV, everyone else won’t leave you alone, even if you play the role of the atmosphere. Besides, you seem to want to return yourself."

"When did I ever say such a thing?"

"Well, that depends on you. I think you should do what you want. You have the skill and experience and even a manager who eagerly awaits your --"

"She has nothing to do with this." He scoffed, standing up. "Mind your business."

He grabbed his bag, leaving your bedroom with you trailing behind him. "I'm going home."

As he was about to walk out of the door of your apartment, you waved slightly at him with a blank look. "Bye, Scara."

The boy stared at you before giving you a slight glare which made you confused as he left.

'...I think I said something I shouldn't have said. Sorry.' You sighed, going back to your own room.

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'And ever since then, Scaramouche hasn't shown up at school.'

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"Hey, Albedo, do you know why Scaramouche Raiden said he was going on hiatus?" You turned to him who was just drinking.

"To the public, I think it was to focus on her studies." He muttered at your question.

You and Albedo worked together as waiters in the same part time job after school at a small restaurant that wasn't too far away from your high school.

Your friend worked here as to earn a little bit of extra money while you were doing the job to provide for yourself and Qiqi.

And currently, you two were on a break until the manager came in, looking for you specifically. "[Last Name], the news anchor is here again."

You looked at him in slight confusion but went out of the break room before you realized and remember who the manager was referring to.

You approached her with your notepad in hand. "Welcome."

She beamed, smiling. "Hi, [Name]! It's nice to meet you."

"You too, Charlotte. Do you want anything to order?"

"Hmm, I'll take a small chocolate cake."

"Got it." As you wrote her order down, the pink haired girl looked up before saying.

"Hey, [Name]?"

You gazed up at her. "Yes?"

"I apologize for some of the member of the Steambird's persistence in regard to your incident of your scar." She sighed. "I understand of wanting to get scoop like me but I wouldn't dare if that person isn't comfortable at all."

"Thank you, Charlotte. It's no problem at all." You smiled slightly before it turned to a frown as you look up at her. "Hey, Charlotte? Would you know the reason why Scaramouche Raiden went on a hiatus?"

Charlotte eyes widen slightly before laughing. "Well, I might know some info that isn't released to the public."

You looked up at her, curiously.

.

.

.

"Hey, [Name]? I heard you've taken a interest in Raiden-senpai lately. What's up with that?" A girl with green hair spoke curiously as she mixed the cup of coffee. "I thought you wouldn't get over him."

You laughed slightly with a sigh. "Why is that Kaeya, Albedo, and you also think like that?"

Sucrose smiled, sliding over a bottle. "Here, add sugar if you would like."

"Is that safe?" You raise an eyebrow.

"It’s probably sugar inside. I mean, it’s white." She then focused back on her beaker. "So what did you want to ask me?"

You hummed. "Hmm, Sucrose… Do you think it's possible that people can suddenly stop seeing others?"

"Is something wrong with your vision? I think an optometrist is a better choice."

"That's not it. I mean not seeing someone who's right there, like an invisible person."

"What will you use it for?"

"Nothing. I'm not into scat."

Sucrose hummed, looking down as she stirs her coffee. "If you’re referring to Adolescence Syndrome, you know I'm really against that concept."

"Right? It's not logical at all." You nodded. "That's why I want a logical explanation from you. For instance, I’m sitting right in front of you, Sucrose. Is it logically possible for me to become invisible to you?"

She stared before replying. "Yes, if I were engrossed in something or just spacing out. The human brain can filter out things you don't want to see, too."

"That’s true. But if it isn’t something like that…"

"There is also the observation theory."

"Observation theory?"

Sucrose sat up straight, looking at you. "The theory that the existence of something is confirmed only when it is observed."

"Surely you’ve at least heard about the cat in the box, right?"

"Hm?" You gasped slightly. "Oh right, that was..."

She muttered. "… Schrodinger’s Cat."

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.

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'When Scara was still available acting, he certainly did exist. And he was observed by everyone around him.'

As you exited the train after coming back from school, you stopped by and went over to the same small stall that was selling different kinds of food and treats.

You stopped in front of it. "Excuse me? One dark chocolate bun, please."

"Okay, coming up." The cashier nodded, going over to prepare for it.

As you watched her, you asked curiously. "Hey, do you know of an actor named Scaramouche Raiden?"

She looked up, confused. "Hm? Who?"

"Y'know, the child actor who got became famous in that morning drama."

"Ah, sorry, I don't know of an actor by that name."

You hid the slight disappointment as you shook your head. "Oh, it's okay." You smiled, quickly paying before swiftly leaving the train station.

.

'The fact that people no longer remember him means not only that people cannot see him but also that his existence in itself…'

As you gasped at that thought, you picked up your walking pace to quickly rush back to your apartment complex.

Your mind was thinking of possibilities that you might end up...

When you went to the floor, you panted, and your eyes widen in surprise as you saw someone you didn't expect.

Scaramouche looked up, hugging his knees to his chest as he sat by the door of your apartment. He frowned, slightly glaring. "Took you long enough."

You sighed in relief before you smirked slightly, approaching him. "Did you want to see me that bad?"

He rolled his eyes. "Not at all." Then his stomach growled causing him to clutch his stomach, looking away.

"You’re starving, huh?"

"Shut up, you suck."

"I'm more or less aware. Did you not eat anything?" You slid down to the floor beside him, sitting down in the same position.

His expression turned grim as he muttered. "...I can't buy anything. Over the past two weeks, I've become invisible to more and more people. No one in the train station can see me anymore."

"Hmm, luckily, I came prepared." You smiled, handing him the bag that contained the dark chocolate bun treat. "You want this?"

Scaramouche reluctantly took it from you before glancing at you. You gave him a soft smile in which he looked away, but you can tell there was slight gratitude in his eyes as he opens the bag and opens the bun to take a bite, finally starting to fill up a bit of his hunger.

.

'May 6th. I met a wild hat guy.'

'This was the beginning. This is how we met. There’s no way I can forget.'

'You must remember, even if you forget.'

I'm counting on you, future me.'

.

─ episode one: the famous actor "scaramouche"

previous episode, masterlist, next episode

[thecoffeelorian]

Fandom Friday, 09/27: Fanart

Hello again, everyone…and welcome to another installment of Fandom Friday, the two-post series where I go off to find new and interesting fanworks that might need a bit more visibility.

Before we begin...I just want to put it out there real fast that my mom should be getting home from surgery either today or tomorrow, and that I'll most likely be doing a bit more around the house because of this, even if it means skipping over further updates for longer than 2 weeks.

Second, if I do continue, I might start doing themes like Oshecki Week and Commander Fox week as far as choosing content goes, but as of this moment, it's more of an idea than an actual concrete thing so far.

Anyways, before I go too far off on a tangent...here are my picks of the week.

THE HIGH REPUBLIC

The High Republic Fanart--By @magicalplaylist:

THE PREQUELS

The Prequels Fanart--By @cassiepeach:

THE CLONE WARS

The Clone Wars Fanart--By @handless-and-dangerous:

The Clone Wars Fanart--By @carrion-art:

THE BAD BATCH

The Bad Batch Fanart--By @azelind4:

The Bad Batch Fanart--By @keeradaks:

STAR WARS REBELS

Star Wars Rebels Fanart--By @somewhere-on-kamino:

THE MANDALORIAN

The Mandalorian Fanart--By @annettecheshir:

In conclusion, as part of my mission to poke around the Star Wars fandom and, on Friday every two weeks, highlight those artists who might otherwise go unnoticed…I hope you will check out the links I have included for yourselves and like, comment on, and reblog them, as well as also giving the artists a few more followers to their Tumblr pages.

Please also like and reblog this latest installment so that these links can be spread around to as many other fans as possible, just in case not all of them can tune in at the same time.

An additional thank you goes to @djarrex for making the divider I used earlier in this post, but still want to give credit for.

And finally, so that I do not forget…this post will be continued in its second half: the Fanfiction Edition.

Thank you, good afternoon, and I’ll see you in the next post!

No Pressure Tags: @melymigo @algo-o-nada @theosb0rnway @everybirdfellsilent @skellymom

@leos-multifandom-corner @maggie-dylan @leenabb104104 @gun-roswell @tazmbc1

@bluedeedeedoop @its-time-to-rise-above @tlmtwelve and anybody else who might be on the lookout for new SW fanart.

[velocesainz]

𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒂'𝒔 𝑩𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒒𝒖𝒆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☾⋆⁺₊🎧✩°｡

Hello lovelies! Welcome to my boutique you can make your purchase of the items that are under the cut (You can always add your own prompts). I write romance, dark, angst and smut so feel free to let me know which genre you want to see me write. I also write for poly!drivers and really love it. Feel free to send me a message to talk about anything, I'm always here to listen. I write for the following fandoms. My requests are open

Formula 1 | Percy Jackson | Stranger Things

Add yourself to my taglist

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊ ♪ ✧

𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒔: ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

Bathrobe: You're literally perfect

Bikini: Sexy, sexy little slut

Blazer: Can you feel how how much you turn me on

Blouse: I wish I never met you

Bomber jacket: How could you say that

Cardigan: I could do this all day, all night

Cargo pants: You're not telling anyone what happens here

Crop top: I'll make tonight special

Corset: Oh you don't think it'll fit? Nice try but i will make it fit

Denim jeans: Your ass looks extra nice today

Flowy skirt: I wonder how your father would feel if he knew what was going on between us.

Graphic tee: Will you marry me?

Halter top: I will love you till the day I die

Hoodie: I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't tell you

Jacket: You're the best thing that has ever happened to me

Jumpsuit: Swallow it. I should not see even a drop and that pretty tongue of yours

Maxi skirt: I'm drunk ok, so what?

Mesh top: Why do you care so much

Midi skirt: How can you show off so much of your body like that? Your body is mine and only I get the see it and touch it

Leggings: How did I get so lucky

Off-shoulder top: Wait till we get home

Overalls: If you were a good little whore for me you wouldn't have to face this

Pencil skirt: You're so fucking stupid

Polo: I frankly don't give a fuck

Puff sleeve: That's sucka good fucking girl

Romper: You are going to regret what you just did

Shirt: Your moans are my favourite sound

Shorts: I'm not responsible for anything that happens after this

Sweater: It's time to put that mouth to good use

Sweatpants: You make my head spin

Tank top: I can't get enough of you

Trench coat: You really think you can escape from me

Tube top: You squeeze me so well

Tunic: Jealous? So what if I am jealous

Turtleneck: I'm going to mark you up so everyone knows you're mine

V-neck sweater: You are so hot it makes me hard just looking at you

Custom-wear: Any particular prompt phrase

𝑨𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉: ༘ 𝜗𝜚⋆｡˚.ᐟ

Bracelet: Forbidden love

Earring: Soulmates

Necklace: Fake dating

Barrette: Bet

Scarf: Friends to lovers

Sunglasses: Arranged marriage

Watch: Strangers to lovers

Sun hat: Enemies to lovers

Baseball cap: Love triangle

Scrunchie: Unrequited

Headband: Secret relationship

Beret: Friends with benefits

Gloves: Rough sex

Cufflinks: Jealousy

Brooch: Soft sex

Bandana: Breeding

Belt: Spanking

Tie: Choking

Ear cuffs: Possessive/ obsessive

Clutch: Punishment

Shawl: Filming

Leg warmer: Degradation

Sashes: Drunk sex

Fedora: High sex

Beanie: Public sex/ semi-public

Face mask: insecure reader

Bucket hat: Mirror sex

[oraclekleo]

Tiny Tarot Game (NSFW)

CLOSED

Hello my dear followers and random visitors of my blog!

Time for one more tiny tarot game.

As you know, I often do the NSFW games focused on you being in a more dominant position. However, from experience I know a great number of you guys are more in the submissive half of spectrum. That's why the today's question going to be more focused on your sub side.

Ain't that fun? Are you ready?

First some rules:

NSFW game - minors do not engage!

I will pull only one card for each ask.

Anons are allowed.

Any info you provide about yourself (sign, MBTI, favourite colour, etc.) is appreciated and will make the reading more accurate but you don't have to provide anything

Tarot isn't a science and this whole game is for entertainment only, I can never guarantee any of it

I don't read energies, I don't meddle with yours or anybody else's

Feedback is highly appreciated but not mandatory

You can also take on the challenge and pull a card for Kleo with the same question to practice your own tarot skills - I will give feedback or discuss the results with you

If you are interested in more readings, check out Kleo's Paid Readings offer!

And what's the Question?

What kind of a pet would you be for your Mistress/Master/Sir?

Should you ever engaged in sexual game scenario (consensual on all sides) where you are the Pet, what would be your prominent characteristics, how would you behave (or misbehave)?

I think this could be fun!

@tarot-by-e11e Good news, I'm not really submissive myself so if you decide to pull a card for me, it shouldn't be traumatizing. Unless I have some well hidden pet desires 🤣

I need to do some grocery shopping, so you'll have more time to apply for this but depending on my energy stock I might complete only first 15 - 20 requests, so keep that in mind. These games are free and I reserve the right to only complete as many requests as I feel up for. 😊

As always, you can pull card for me with the same question if you want to practice the NSFW tarot readings. I always give feedback so you will have something to work with.

Also! Don't feel shy to give your suggestions on questions for these tiny games, be them SFW or NSFW. These games should be fun for both you and me so feel free to hit my inbox or DMs with tips for next games. I only warn you that I'm not a fan of Future Spouse related readings. The whole mania surrounding it is very uncomfortable for me. You can suggest literally anything else! Kinky or wholesome, I don't mind, just skip the future spouse topic. Thank you!

Alright!

Ready for the game?

Let's go!

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

Hey hey hey may 31th anon! How's 2024 going? ☆ヾ(*´▽｀)ﾉ This year I have for you a leaked Sherlock season 5 image. Thinking of you!! And everyone!!

[front-facing-pokemon]

[etapereine]

.

[cold-neon-ocean]

You're such a good artist and you've convinced me about Baatar being horse-coded. I'm curious what horse!Baatar looks like.

First off thank you so much you're so sweet ;; <3

Second, I'm so glad my horse-coded Baatar propaganda is working, you have no idea how long I've been ready to answer this.

Let us begin with our steed in question: - Lightly smokey copper bay warmblood: [ selle francais x holsteiner ] - Long star on his face and dainty little amounts of pastern white - Roached mane with minimal forelock so he looks like a velociraptor - 100% constantly at the ready to kick someone in the fucking face - Well known for whipping people in the face with his tail He'd absolutely be a sporty warmblood very much crushing the 5 star eventing scene. He's bougie and sensitive and ornery. His best discipline is cross country he's got the speed, stamina, and agility, second is show jumping as he sometimes gets a bit cramped in smaller indoor arenas, and then dressage. He isn't bad at dressage he's just prone to throwing a fit when something upsets him, like he will yank the reins out of your hands if he gets annoyed with your direction or if someone's phone starts ringing he'll stop dead and look around to see who it was so that they'll feel embarrassed lolol. And as good at eventing as he is it takes him like 45 minutes to wake up so if you don't prepare early, you WILL be late.

He's the sort of horse that makes you question who owns who in this situation because if his needs aren't perfectly met he will yell and scream until someone comes to attend to him.

Bonus: Custom embroidered blanket because he will still serve tactical fashion even as a horse and also he hates getting dirty.

[ggukkiedae]

personal spiel im adding in the tags again bc im once more feeling kinda emotional