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imaginespazzi · 16 hours ago

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Part 14: The End And The Beginning

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Still a flicker of hope that you first gave to me that I wanna keep (please don't leave)

(In which an infrequently-updating writer finally didn't take a month to update)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff and I guess a little bit of Hurt/Comfort

Words: 9.2K

TW: Swearing (and I believe that's it)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 It's a little past 2 AM but y'all wanted a chapter at an ungodly hour so here it is. It's insane to think that there will only be one more chapter of this fic. In all honestly I did have ways to drag it out for a little longer but ultimately, this felt like the right path to take. I feel like some of this chapter is a little OOC (though my lovely friends have said maybe I'm just being paranoid) but whelp it was for the plot so! Like I said, ungodly hour chapters means barely any editing for now but I will go over and fix things later. In the meantime if y'all wanna point things out in terms of grammar and typos, please feel free. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see as this story comes to an end. Have a lovely rest of your day (night?) my loves <3

June 2033

Azzi thinks she might have every detail of her rather uninteresting bedroom ceiling memorized by now. After all -for almost 3 weeks now- instead of sleeping, all she’s done is stared up at it, her mind wandering off to a thousand places, all plagued with the same face. Azzi hadn’t thought it was possible for her heart to ache as much as it had the morning after the proposal, when the regret had hit and she’d rushed into Paige’s room, only to be told by KK that the older girl was gone. The days following had been torture, like enduring a heart attack over and over again, the pain crescendoing until she’d gone numb from it.

But last time there had been no false notions, no open-ended goodbyes, just a clean break and somehow that had been easier to live with. These last few days -filled with the unbearable waiting of maybe today she’ll come back to me- have been worse. Perhaps it’s because of the innate hope flickering like a candle within her. And even though the flame of it seems to get smaller and dimmer every time she sees Paige and the older woman still can’t quite make the promise to stay, Azzi knows that until that hope of hers is either completely shattered or fulfilled, there is no moving on from this hurt.

Sighing to herself, Azzi grabs for her phone. The screen lights up to countless notifications and she bites her lip when she notices the one from Clémence. Dinner had been uncannily awkward last night in a way that it had never been before when the French woman had been a much more frequent presence in her and her daughter’s life. But in between Azzi being completely lost in thoughts of her and Paige’s conversation in the locker room and Stephie somehow managing to find a way to relate every little detail back to Miss Buecks and her face-falling a little every time she did, well it was suffice to say even Clémence’s attempts as making the dinner more cheerful hadn’t been enough to make the evening less of a disaster. Azzi had almost let out a sigh of relief when she’d finally dropped the other woman off at the hotel, trying to not to wince when Clémence had leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. But cleary she hadn’t been inconspicuous enough -and neither had Stephie, who’s voice had been rather devoid of her normal Clémence related cheer when she’d wished the Frenchwoman a goodnight- and the guilt from the way the other woman’s smile had faltered, still lingers in Azzi’s stomach.

Chewing at her bottom lip, she swipes the text open. It’s a simple “it was good to see you two again.” and perhaps it doesn’t mean much -maybe Azzi’s doing that overthinking thing again- but there’s something about the formality of it, about the full stop at the end of the sentence feels rather definite. Azzi almost feels like she should apologize for something, perhaps for being so aloof last night or maybe even more. She knows that Clémence had wanted something else from her, had patiently waited for her to turn their relationship into something beyond just casual, something Azzi had never been ready to give to her. But it almost feels too late for any of that and so all she says is “it was good to see you too.” and she hopes that Clémence knows that despite everything, she means it.

Throwing her phone back on the dresser and now feeling perhaps even worse than she had a couple minutes ago, Azzi pulls her blanket above her head, almost pleading with her brain to just shut off. She’s about to give into the impulsive urge to scream into her pillows, when instead her door creaks open and she immediately throws the comforter off of herself, reaching over to turn on her bedside lamp as she sits up straight on her bed.

Stephie stands in the doorway, a fluffy teddy bear cuddled to her chest as she stares up at Azzi with big doey eyes and the older woman’s heart constricts when she sees the hint of sadness sitting heavily within them. Her little girl had been quiet all day -really since dinner last night. With today being a rare off day, the two of them had spent most of it lounging on the couch watching movies. But Azzi could tell something was off about Stephie. Her daughter, normally ever the commentator, had been dead silent, cuddling into her mother’s side and barely even chuckling at the comedy scenes. Truthfully, Stephie hadn’t been quite the same ever since they’d left Paige’s that morning -and with the amount of nights she’d snuck into Azzi’s room since, her mother had almost been expecting it tonight- but it seemed like something else had shifted last night.

“C’mere baby girl,” Azzi says softly as she holds her arms open and Stephie dutifully climbs into them, burrowing her head into her mother’s chest, “what’s up?”

“Can’t sleep,” comes the muffled response from her daughter as Azzi gently rubs the little girl’s back, “can I sleep here with you?”

Azzi smiles, pressing a gentle kiss against Stephie’s hair, “of course you can sweetheart,” she whispers, before falling back into her pillows with her daughter still securely wrapped in her arms.

She continues to brush her hands through Stephie’s hair, listening to the sound of her little girl breathing as she hums a lullaby.

“Mama,” Stephie says tentatively, after a while.

“Yeah Stephie-bean?”

“Yes-er-day when we were at dinner-,” the little girl swallows nervously and Azzi’s squeezes her shoulders, hoping it conveys that she’s listening, ready to hear whatever it is that’s been bothering the little girl, “yes-er-day at one of the other tables, I saw- I saw a woman with gold hair and she- she had it in a bun like- like the one Miss Buecks usually has.”

Azzi’s breath hitches, “go on sweetheart.”

“And she- she was-,” Stephie drops her voice down to a whisper, “she was kissing someone who looked a lot like you Mama.”

“Oh,” Azzi manages to get out as she feels her lungs compress.

“And there was a little girl too and they both gave her lots of kisses too,” Stephie’s voice is small as she says the fact and Azzi has to bite her lips hard to keep in the sob that’s threatening to escape her lips. And she remembers the exact people Stephie’s talking about, remembers the way her heart panged as she’d seen the way three of them -the two women and their little girl- were practically giddy around each other. They’d looked almost like an exact replica of Paige, Azzi and Stephie, not that long ago. Azzi had, had to tear her eyes away from the scene, not wanting to let the tears that were dangerously close to her waterline slip down her cheeks. She hadn’t looked in their direction again. But Azzi hadn’t even imagined that maybe Stephie would’ve noticed that too, that her daughter would’ve felt the sting of the happy picture the same way she had.

“Oh sweetheart-”

“My friend Anya has a Mama and a Mommy,” Stephie rushes out before Azzi can console her any further, “and my other friend Lena didn’t understand how that was poss-ble cause she has a Mommy and a Daddy like most of my other friends but Anya said it’s poss-ble and that her Mama and Mommy love each other just like Lena’s Mommy and Daddy love each other.”

“Anya’s right,” Azzi says softly, smiling at how simple children make everything sound even though she’s not quite sure where Stephie’s getting at with this story, “I’m sure her Mama and Mommy love each other a lot.”

“Anya says they kiss on the lips- just like- just like the women at the restaurant and like Nana and Pops or like Uncle José and Aunty Tully,” Stephie scrunches her nose as she finally untucks herself from Azzi’s chest, “Anya says that’s what people in love do but I think it’s kinda gross cause kissing on the lips looks kinda yucky.”

Azzi laughs, booping the little girl’s nose, “it does look a little funny.”

“But Anya says her Mommy and Mama do other things too. Like her Mama takes care of her Mommy when she’s sick and when her Mama cries over a movie, her Mommy laughs but then gives her Mama a big hug. And Anya says that sometimes when Anya’s Mama isn’t looking, Anya sees her Mommy looking at her Mama with a big smile,” Stephie stretches out her arms for emphasis as she climbs off of Azzi’s lap to sit on the bed next to her.

“That sounds sweet,” Azzi says wistfully, still a little confused why she’s being told everything about Anya’s two mothers.

There’s a moment of silence before Stephie drags in a deep breath as she stares intently at her mother, “I never seen you and Miss Buecks kiss, Mama.”

Her words loom in the air as Azzi’s mouth falls open, everything suddenly beginning to click, “Steph-”

“But when Miss Buecks was sick, I saw you make her soup and make her eat her med-cines even though Miss Buecks said they tasted yucky. And when you cry over Mr. Olaf melting in Frozen, Miss Buecks always says ‘Az you’re so silly, you’ve seen this so many times. How can you still cry at it?’”Stephie recites, doing an almost perfect impression that has Azzi’s letting out something in between a sob and a laugh.

“But then she gives you a big hug anyways. And Mama,” the little girl continues, “when you’re not looking, I see Miss Buecks looking at you with this big, big, big, smile all the time.”

“Stephie,” Azzi chokes out, trying to hold herself together.

Her daughter looks at her with something almost like wonder, “you and Miss Buecks- you were just- you were just like Anya’s Mama and Mommy?”

“Yeah,” Azzi whispers, as she grasps the little girl’s hands in her own, bracing herself for whatever Stephie might say next, “yeah I guess we were.”

But Stephie doesn’t say anything for a while, sitting all quiet and contemplative for a moment until she slowly climbs back into her mother’s arms, resting her head right against Azzi’s chest.

“Mama,” her voice is small when she finally does speak, “I really miss Miss Buecks.”

Azzi feels her heart constrict, finally losing the battle against her tears as they drip down her cheeks, and she tightens her grip on her daughter, “I know baby. I really miss her too.”

***

April 2025

“What are you doing?” panic filters into Azzi’s tone as she watches Paige slowly get down on one knee, her heart pulsating as she slowly begins to understand why her girlfriend had set this whole thing up. Really she should’ve known as soon as KK and Ice had excitedly bound into her room, mischievous knowing smirks on their faces as they’d made her change into something nice before practically dragging her onto the roof. She should’ve known when she’d seen the candles and the pink roses and Paige just a little too dressed up in the midst of it all, that this was more than just one of the older girl’s lavishly planned date nights.

Paige smiles up at her, either not hearing the distress in the brunette’s voice or perhaps not quite understanding the gravity of it. She reaches for Azzi’s hands, soft fingers entwining with the younger girl’s like their holding onto a lifeline. An unfamiliar sensation builds in Azzi’s stomach, one she doesn’t think she’s ever felt in Paige’s presence before.

“Paige,” she whispers helplessly.

“I’ve got you baby,” Paige squeezes her hands gently, mistaking whatever it is that Azzi’s feeling, for simple nerves.

But it’s not that. Azzi knows this unsettling feeling that’s tornadoing around her isn’t just nerves or butterflies or whatever else it is that one normally feels before a proposal. It’s something much, much worse. Something almost like dread. And Azzi can feel all those suppressed emotions that have been building for the last couple of weeks-the whispers of thoughts that she’d brushed away as nothing serious- suddenly rushing through her body and settling like a large, immovable lump at the back of her throat.

She remembers the first time she’d felt it, that unfamiliar twist in her stomach. It had been at a press conference after some easily won Big East game with UConn’s Big Three sitting diligently at the media-table. And it had suddenly occurred to Azzi, just as they’d finished their media availability, that she’d been asked exactly one question about her own performance -a respectable 24/4/3 statline- from the pool of reporters. Every other question of the four that had been directed her way, had been about Paige. She’d come to a stop outside the press room, letting herself sit with the thought for a second until her girlfriend -with her bright blue eyes and just-for-Azzi smile- had come bounding up to her. And suddenly, as it always seemed to be when it came to Paige, Azzi couldn’t think about anything else anymore. Not when the blonde was lacing their fingers together and putting her lips dangerously close to her ears, whispering all the sinful things they could get up to that night.

But then it happened again two games later. One question about her own performance followed by a cycle of questions about Paige during a presser where the blonde wasn’t even in attendance. This time Azzi had thought about it a little longer but then she’d chided herself for it, chalking it up to her brain doing that overthinking thing again. It was natural to be asked about teammates, especially superstar, generational, teammates who were likely to go #1 in the upcoming WNBA draft.

And then it happened again.

And again.

Until it was the Elite Eight and Azzi found herself, after a 28/5/4 statline and two clutch free throws to win it all, still somehow fielding more questions about Paige -and how the blonde had impacted Azzi’s game and recovery and their relationship as best friends- than about her own performance.

That’s when she’d finally begun to understand what that twist in her stomach had been. She’d felt sick at the idea that it could be envy -how could she ever be jealous of her Paige’s success- but she’d understood then, almost gawking at the reporter who’d had the audacity to ask her, her fourth Paige-related question that night, that it wasn’t that. Maybe it would’ve been easier if it was.

It was fear.

The fear that her own identity in the basketball world was slowly withering away under the weight of her relationship.

“Hey,” Paige’s voice feels like it’s coming from a distance even though she’s right in front of Azzi and the brunette swallows hard as she tries to pry herself away from her thoughts to focus on her girlfriend.

“Paige,” she whispers back helplessly, as her eyes begin to water.

Every time Azzi had imagined Paige proposing -the first time had been when she was 15 and she’d woken up from the dream, almost shaking but still filled with the serene calmness that came from knowing something was inevitable- she had always in fact pictured tears in her own eyes.

But not like this.

Because these little droplets cascading down her cheeks that Paige’s fingers diligently reach up to wipe away aren’t the tears of a girl whose dreams to marry her best friend -the love of her life- are coming true. They’re the tears of a girl who’s bracing herself for an inevitable fight when she puts her career before a relationship, when her head wins this fight against her heart.

Blissfully unaware, Paige continues on, “I’ve um- I’ve thought of this a million times. Actually maybe a billion or a trillion or quadrillion. Point is I’ve been thinking about it pretty much ever since I met you.”

Stop, Azzi thinks but all that comes out is a whimper.

“So you’d think, considering I’ve thought about it that many times, I’d have an actual speech prepared or something. And I did you know. I uh- I wrote one and then I hated it so I deleted it all and then I wrote another and then I deleted that one too,” Paige laughs and the sound of it, that had once felt like a warm blanket shrouding all of Azzi’s senses, now feels a lot like a wintry chill settling around her body.

“And what I realized,” there’s moisture pooling in the blonde’s own eyes now, “is that I don’t need a speech. I don’t need hundreds of words. I just need three. I love you,” Paige presses a kiss against Azzi’s knuckles and the other girl shudders, “I love you so fucking much Azzi Fudd. And I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life.”

She lets go of the brunette’s hands to retrieve a black velvet box from her pockets and Azzi bites her lip so hard, the metallic taste of blood overwhelms her taste buds.

“Azzi Jazlyn Fudd,” Paige says softly, flicking open the box to reveal a heart-cut diamond ring, “will you marry me?”

“No,” it comes out so soft, almost blending with the wind, that for a second even Azzi doubts she’d said it.

“”What?”

Azzi clears her throat, “no.”

“No?” Paige repeats, blinking up at her with a mixture of confusion and anticipatory dread.

“No,” Azzi says again, her voice much stronger now as she takes a step back, the tears freely falling from her cheeks.

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” Paige, still on one knee, stumbles a little as she tries to formulate the right words, “you- you don’- no?,” her eyebrows furrow in confusion, “you don’t want to marry me?”

I do, Azzi wants to scream.

“I can’t,” she says.

Paige stares up at her, something akin to disbelief etched across her beautiful features, “what does that even fucking mean you can’t?”

“I just-” Azzi struggles against the jumble of thoughts in head as she tries to piece together a coherent sentence, “I can’t.”

“Bullshit,” Paige snarls.

“Paige-”

“Do not Paige me,” the older girl seethes, her expression darkening, “you better fucking explain yourself.”

“I- I will,” Azzi stutters, trying to make herself small as she wraps her arms around herself, “can you- just,” she eyes Paige, who’s still kneeling one one knee, “can you please- please just stand up.”

Paige flinches, like Azzi has asked her to shoot an arrow into her own soul. And maybe she had. But she does as asked. The blonde’s movements are reluctant, almost like it pains her to stand up and when she does, the distance she puts between her and Azzi can’t be more than a few meters, but it feels like it stretches the length of an ocean.

“Explain,” Paige says scathingly.

“I just-” Azzi takes in a deep breath, barely able to meet her girlfriend’s eyes as she forces out the next words, “I don’t want to be known as just your wife.”

Paige lets out an expected noise of protest, “you wouldn’t-”

“You don’t know that,” Azzi cuts her off with a pointed look, “because right now- right now sometimes it feels like all I am is just Paige Bueckers’ best friend. It doesn't matter how many points I score or how many defensive moves I make on the court or whatever else I do on the court, somehow it all leads back to you. And it makes me feel-,” she chokes on the next words, the acidity of them leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, “I feel invisible.”

“Azzi-”

The brunette holds up a hand, needing to finish what she’s saying before she fully succumbs to her emotions, “sometimes- sometimes my entire career at UConn so far feels like- like it’s just an extension of yours. Paige you- you get to be Paige. Just Paige. The superstar. You get to go to entire pressers not having to answer a single question about me or our friendship. You get to have entire articles written about you that have just a throwaway line about me and not have half of it be dedicated to how I’m the driving force behind your success. And that’s how it should be because- because as much as we rely on each other, your success is still yours. But sometimes it feels like mine isn’t mine.”

“I’m sor-”

“No!” Azzi cuts Paige off loudly when the older girl tries to apologize, guilt flashing in her eyes, “it’s not your fault Paige. You- you’re my biggest cheerleader. You always have been. But I just- I need to have my own identity. And that’s already been so hard being known as just your best friend. It’s only going to get worse if I-” she stops, unable to say the rest but even unspoken, it lingers in the air.

If I become your fiancé.

“I need next year to be different,” Azzi says instead, “I need it to be my year. Just mine. Just for once, I just want to be known as Azzi.”

“It will be,” there’s a newfound conviction replacing the previous anger in the blonde’s voice as she takes a deliberate step towards Azzi. Bolstered when the other girl doesn’t instinctively move back, she takes another one and then another and another, until the seemingly never-ending distance between them disappears.

“I understand where you’re coming from,” Paige says softly as she gently holds one of Azzi’s hands between her own, “and I hate- I hate that you feel this way. But it’ll be different next year when we’re not on the same team anymore right? Out of sight out of mind type shit? They won’t- they won’t ask you about me or make everything you do about me anymore-”

“You don’t know that-”

The older girl continues like she didn’t hear the interruption, “I just- I just don’t understand why you can be known as my girlfriend but not my-” she swallows, “but not my wife? Because Az- when we come out-,” the girl in questions flinches and Paige pauses, her expression falters at the movement.

A deadly silence clouds the air and it’s April in Connecticut and the spring breeze is just the right temperature. But as Paige slowly lets go of her hands, realization dawning on her face, Azzi thinks she’s never felt colder in her life.

“You- you don’t-” the blonde looks at her almost accusingly as she takes a step back, “you don’t want to come out?”

“Paige-”

“Answer the fucking question Azzi.”

Azzi casts her eyes downwards, digging her fingers as deeply into her palms as possible, “no, no I don’t.”

“I see,�� Paige says slowly, her tone dangerously low, “and how long have you felt this way Az?”

“I-I-” the brunette stutters nervously, “I made- I made the decision after the Elite Eight.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Paige says calmly.

“I don’t- I don’t understand-”

“How long Azzi?” the blonde sneers, “how long have you had all the fucking doubts about your identity and our relationship? How long have you been questioning everything about us? How long have you bee going through this whole fucking decision-making process about our future?”

“That’s not-”

“Oh no,” Paige interrupts harshly, “that’s exactly it. That’s exactly what you were doing. So tell me. How. Long?”

Azzi gulps nervously, “since the game at home versus Nova.”

Paige blinks at her, “three months? Three fucking months Azzi. You’ve been feeling this way for three months and you didn’t once think that maybe you should tell me? That maybe we should talk about it?”

“I didn’t know,” Azzi says helplessly, “I didn’t even understand it myself Paige. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I didn’t even know there was something to discuss.”

“But clearly you did figure it out, Azzi. Because I know you and I know you didn’t make this decision without figuring your emotions out, so why not come to me then? Why not tell me as soon as possible. God fucking hell Azzi- when even were you gonna tell me?” Paige yells, all pretence of calm gone from her body, “if I- if tonight hadn’t happened, when would you have even told me?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything and Paige shakes her head, starting to pace around the rooftop.

“We had a plan Azzi. We’ve had a plan for four years. As soon as one or both of us was out of UConn, that was it. No more hiding. No more secrets. Just you and and me and we weren’t gonna care who the fuck knew about it,” the blonde pinches the bridge of her nose, “and you’re telling me that for three month- three fucking months- you’ve been questioning that whole fucking plan while I remained oblivious as fuck? Azzi all I’ve done these past few months is tell you how fucking excited I was about being able to call you my girl in front ov everyone. How excited I was to hold you in public and for us to just be us without giving a fuck who could see. And you just,” Paige’s voice breaks, “you let me. You let me do all of that- feel all of that. You let me be hopeful for a future that you weren’t even sure you could see for us.”

Azzi looks away, that rock of guilt settled in her stomach starting to get heavier and heavier with each word that leaves Paige’s mouth, “I’m just asking for a little bit more time Paige.”

“And what happens if that time doesn’t go the way you want it to Az?” Paige asks sadly, “what if we survive the next year but you decide that you can’t be attached to me to start your W career?”

“That won’t happen-”

“You don’t know that,” a sardonic smile appears on the blonde’s face, “I can’t keep hiding forever Azzi. All I’ve done is love you in secret. I can’t- I don’t- I won’t do that forever.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Azzi bursts out, her defensiveness suddenly translating into a burst of anger, “I am asking you for a little bit of time. Not even a whole year anymore. Just a little bit of time for me to establish my own identity and honestly Paige if you can’t even give me that- if you can’t understand why I need this time- then maybe-” she stops herself, eyes widening at the words -word she’d never even expected herself to think of - that are now sitting, like burning embers, on the tip of her tongue.

“Then maybe what?” Paige asks slowly, but there’s an almost resigned tinge to her tone that suggests she already knows.

“No,” Azzi shakes her head, turning away from the older girl’s piercing gaze. She looks down at the ground, still covered in rose petals. The wax of the glittering candles littered between them has melted onto them, causing their pink hue to turn into a darker shade of red. And it’s like there’s blood scattered on the remnants of Paige’s perfect proposal.

“Say it Azzi-”

“No-”

“Say it.”

“I don’t want to,” Azzi covers her ears and she wishes this were a nightmare, wishes she could open her eyes and find herself waking up in Paige’s arms. Warm and soft and loved.

“Godfuckingdammit Azzi,” Paige yells, “just say it. If I can’t understand why you need time then maybe we should what?” she repeats, waiting for the brunette to finish her own sentence.

Azzi whimpers, continuing to shake her head, “Paige please.”

“Just. Fucking. Say. It.”

The younger girl swallows, “then maybe we should end it.”

Another beat of silence.

“Maybe we should,” Paige’s voice is gravelly and Azzi doesn’t dare turn around, not ready to see the heartbroken expression -or worse, perhaps the nonchalant one- on the older girl’s face, “if after all we’ve been through, if it’s so easy for you to think those words. Then maybe we should- maybe we should end it.”

And Azzi thinks for the rest of her life she will wonder what she should have done next. If she should’ve said something or if -when she hears those retreating footsteps- if she should’ve run after her. She thinks, for the rest of her life, she will look back on this moment and dissect every single second of it, that she will wish for the time machine to go back and stop herself from doing and saying so many of the things she had on the rooftop that night.

But Paige walks away.

And Azzi doesn’t do anything to stop her.

It isn’t until the morning after -when her head does finally catch up to her heart and all she can feel is that unfamiliar sting of regret- and she races into the apartment downstairs and Ice’s expression is filled with sadness and KK’s glare is filled with accusation, that she finds out just how far Paige had gone away from her and Azzi realizes, she’s just a little too late.

***

June 2033

There’s a redhead and a brunette, holding hands and chatting quietly as they wait outside the school. The two women are clearly entrenched in their own world -sharing those warm gazes and bright smiles that Azzi’s just a little too familiar with- blissfully unaware that they are currently being stared at. Actually, perhaps glared at is a more accurate statement because there’s a clear tinge of envy running down Azzi’s spine as her eyes remain laser-focused on the scene in front of her. She hadn’t meant to be doing this of course -nobody really plans to come to pick up their daughter from school and somehow end up stink-eying said daughter’s friends parents for being too in love. But as fate would have it, somehow from where she’s parked, Azzi has a perfect view of Anya, infamous Mommy and Mama.

They’re sickeningly cute.

And Azzi fucking hates them.

It’s unfair of her to feel this way; she knows that. But watching them lead the life she’d always imagined for herself, is more difficult now than it ever has been when Azzi had seen them before in passing. Back then, it was just a dull ache of something she craved but knew she’d turned away herself. But now- now she’s had a taste of that life; had gotten to live it out -even if just for a second- with the girl she’d always dreamed of living it with. Until one night and a series of revelations had snatched it all away, and now Azzi’s left with nothing but the bitter feeling of waiting to see if she’ll get that back forever or if it had really only ever been meant to be a fleeting moment in her life.

A sigh of longing escapes her as she watches Anya go rushing into her mothers’ arms, the two of them catching her in perfect sync. She has the resentful urge to scoff at the scene. It’s all so goddamn dramatic for three people who see each other every day. Except Azzi’s mind is filled with memories that are almost exact replicas of the scene in front of her; just with different faces.

“Hi Mama,” it isn’t until the backdoor opens and Stephie’s voice fills the car that Azzi finally tears her eyes away from Anya’s family.

“Hey baby,” she choruses back, turning around in her seat to make sure her daughter is buckling herself in correctly, “how was your day?”

“It was okay,” Stephie shrugs and Azzi feels her heart plummet at how nonchalant the little girl sounds. She misses the sound of her daughter ranting about just how booooring school is, and thinks she wouldn’t even try to reprimand her if Stephie deemed school useless like she used to. Azzi just wants her ball of sunshine, talks-a-mile-per-minute child back because this meek, quiet little girl in the back feels like a shell of who Stephie used to be.

“You excited for Mama’s game tonight?” Azzi presses as she starts to back out of the parking lot, almost relieved when it seems to cause Stephie to sit up a little straighter.

“You’re- you’re playing the Liberty right?” the little girl asks quietly, “that’s- that’s where Miss Buecks wanna go? New York?”

Azzi freezes at the question, trying to keep her hands steady on the wheel as she hums in agreement.

“They’re a good team right? Lots of champ-ships and stuff?” Stephie continues.

“Yeah,” Azzi clears her throat, “it’s uh- it’s definitely gonna be a good game.”

“Anya’s Grammy and Grandpa live in New York. Not the city-city but close to it,” Stephie says after a moment, “Anya says New York’s really nice. She’s been there lots and lots of times to see her Grammy and Grandpa forChristmas. And she- she says when she went, it snowed lots and lots.”

Despite herself Azzi smiles as her mind drifts to memories of cold Northeast winters. For the most part, they had been filled with dreary chills and darky rainy days. But then amidst it all, there had been a couple rare days of snow and when she’d been at UConn, her teammates had taken full advantage. And just like most of her memories of those years, Paige is front and center of these ones too. The blonde had never been nearly as enamored with the snow as Azzi was, and she definitely wasn’t enamored by it at seven in the morning when the brunette would wake her up squealing that it had in fact snowed and the world around them was white. Despite her grumbling, Paige had still let Azzi bundle the both of them up in winter clothes and drag her outside. And her faux irritated expression hds slowly morphed into one of admiration as she’d flicked the snow off the younger girl’s eyelashes, pulling her closer by her scarf because Azzi I’m so cold, you have to kiss me to keep me warm baby.

“We don’t get snow here,” Stephie says thoughtfully, unaware of the path down memory lane her mother had just taken.

“No, no we don’t,” Azzi says, almost wistfully.

“It would- it would be nice to live somewhere with lots of snow,” Stephie ponders out loud and her mother’s eyes widen as she starts to understand where this is going, “like- like in New York.”

“We could- we could have snowball fight and make snowmen like Mr. Olaf and snow angels and everything else you do in snow,” the little girl’s voice gets increasingly more and more high-pitched in excitement, “it would be so fun Mama.”

“Steph-”

“And Anya said that- that- that- she’d even visit me like she visits her Grammy and Grandpa. She promised Mama, she promised she’d come see me if I lived in New York-”

“Honey no,” Azzi cuts her daughter off heartbrokenly, “we are not going to live in New York.

“But Mama, Miss Buecks-”

“Stephie stop-”

“No Mama listen,” Stephie protests indignantly, “Mama what if- what if Miss Buecks really needs to be in New York. What if it’s impo-tant. And that’s- that’s why she can’t stay here. With us. Not cause she doesn’t want to but cause she can’t. But Mama just because Miss Buecks can’t say doesn’t mean we can’t go Mama.”

“Sweetheart-”

“And you- you just said the Liberty is a good team and you’re such a good player Mama. I think you’d be good on their team too. And I- I really, really like the Valk-ries and I would really miss Aunty J and Aunty Tessie and Aunty Joy but if you- if you and Miss Buecks played for the Liberty- I know I’d like them too. And I’m sure Nana and Pops and Uncle Jon and Uncle Jose and Aunty Tully would come visit us lots and lots and I wouldn’t even miss them lots cause they’d visit so much. I just know it. It could work Mama- I know it could.”

“Stephanie,” Azzi's voice is louder than she’d meant it to be as she pulls onto their street, “sweetheart, we are not moving to New York.”

“But Mama-” the little girl whines.

“No Stephie. That’s just-” Azzi swallows the sob stuck in her throat, “that’s now how the world works.”

“But what if I want it to work that way?” Stephie asks softly with all the innocence of a five-year old as she meets her mother’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Oh baby,” Azzi’s so caught up in her daughter’s earnest wishful thinking that she doesn’t even notice there’s another oh-so-familiar car parked in her driveway until she almost crashes into it.

“That’s Miss Buecks car,” Stephie whispers softly, craning her neck to get a better view. Her eyes widen in tandem with her mother’s as they both catch sight of the same thing at the same time.

It’s Paige.

Paige, whose eyes are sunken in and red-rimmed. Paige, whose hair is tossed back into a messy bun -looking like it’s been in that same one for days- with little loose strands falling out of it. Paige, whose entire body is hunched over as she sits on their front porch, holding a grey hoodie close to her chest. Paige, whose hands are fidgeting with themselves because she can never sit still, especially when she’s nervous. Paige, who looks up just as Azzi parks her car -whose staring at the both of them like they’re still her everything. Paige, who despite it all, still looks like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Paige, who’s here.

It’s Stephie who recovers from the shock of seeing Paige first, the click of her seatbelt being unclasped pulling Azzi out of her own trance. The little girl pushes her door open, getting out of her car seat with quickness as she stumbles out of the car.

“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out immediately but Stephie isn't listening, already rushing up the pathway as Paige -her expression hopeful- stands up at the sight of the child running towards.

It isn’t until Stephie hesitates, coming to a halt just a couple of meters away from Paige, that Azzi draws in a deep breath and gets out of the car herself. Unlike her daughter, her steps are much slower, her movement hesitant and guarded. She knows this is it; knows that this is when all that waiting she’s done in the past few weeks will finally be over, that Paige is either here to fulfill a dream or to start a nightmare.

Azzi walks up the pathway until she’s right behind Stephie, one of her hands instinctively reaching out to hold her daughter’s shoulder, conveying two messages. One to Stephie, a promise that no matter what happens now, she’ll still always have Azzi. The other to Paige is an unspoken message from a protective mother, silently begging her that if she is here to break their hearts, to break Stephie’s gently.

“Hi,” Paige’s voice is croaky when she speaks, her eyes flickering nervously between the mother and daughter in front of her.

Azzi clears her throat, willing herself to reply, “hey,” she pauses, continuing only when the older woman keeps her own mouth shut, shuffling her feet nervously, “do you- do you want to come in?”

“Yes,” Paige says, her cheeks reddening at how quickly the word leaves her mouth and that almost makes Azzi smile.

She nods at the older woman, her hand travelling from Stephie’s shoulder to instead hold her hand as they walk up the steps together. Azzi’s shoulder brushes against Paige’s as she moves past the blonde to open her door and electricity courses through her veins. From the way Paige gasps, the brunette is sure she must’ve felt it too. It crackles in the air as Azzi unlocks the door, her brain feeling foggy at the mere feeling of having Paige so close after so long.

The three of them walk quietly towards the living room, Stephie’s hands still clasped in Azzi’s and Paige following closely behind them. The little girl’s grip is tight and despite how young she is, Azzi knows just how perceptive Stephie is. She’s just as aware of this moment as the adults are, realizes it just as much as they do, that they’ve reached a crossroad and the path they take -a path determined by whatever Paige chooses- will shape their future together or apart.

“I um- I- well- the thing is- I-,” Paige breaks the silence first, stuttering over her words before letting out a soft sigh She closes her eyes for a second and when she opens them, there are little droplets of water on the edges of her eyelashes.

“I really missed you guys,” she confesses in a whisper, her voice breaking throughout.

There’s a second of silence as her words linger in the air and Azzi feels Stephie’s hand slip away from her own and the little girl almost stumbles over her own feet as she races towards Paige, the older woman’s arms immediately opening to catch her and as she kneels down to pull Stephie into her her chest. It’s like the blonde’s confession had broken a dam, and the water that came rushing through it, had washed away the last little bit of pretence of nonchalance that Stephie had been holding onto.

For the last few weeks, every time Azzi’s little girl had seen Paige, be it when she accompanied her mother to a practice or when she was on the sidelines at a game, Stephie had ignored the blonde, maintaining the same angry façade as the one she’d had the morning after that night. But Azzi had seen that resolve weaken over time; had seen Stephie’s eyes linger just a little bit longer on Miss Buecks with that familiar look of yearning. And Azzi had known that resolve was almost completely gone, in the car, when Stephie had all but begged her to consider moving to New York if that was the only way they were going to be able to keep Paige in their lives.

She feels her own set of tears prickling in her eyes as she takes in the scene in front of her. Stephie’s face is pressed into Paige’s neck, the blonde has one arm wrapped around the little girl’s waist and the other other gently brushing through her hair. Their grip on each other is tight with barely any space for air between them, tears freely streaming down both of their faces.

“I missed you too Miss Buecks,” Stephie sobs and Azzi notices the way Paige’s hold on her tightens at the familiar nickname, “missed you so much.”

“Me too Stephie-bean,” Paige affirms as she coaxes the little girl’s face out of her neck, cupping it in her hands, “I’m so sorry sweetheart. So, so, sorry. I missed you so, so, so, so much,” she says, punctuating each word with a kiss to Stephie’s face in between.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie looks down nervously, her fingers playing with the collar of Paige’s t-shirt, “can me and Mama come to New York with you?”

“Stephie!” Azzi exclaims as Paige’s eyes widen.

“Wh-what?” the blonde asks softly as she searches the little girl’s face in confusion.

“I don’t want you to go,” Stephie says quietly, “but if you have to- then can we come with you?”

“Oh sweetheart,” there’s disbelief in Paige’s tone, something almost akin to awe as she tilts Stephie’s chin to make the little girl look back at her.

“My friend Anya says New York’s nice,” Stephie rambles, repeating what she’d been telling her mother in the car, “and-and-and she says there’s lots and lots of snow and I told Mama that I think it will be nice to live in lots and lots of snow. Mama hasn’t said yest,” the little girl briefly looks back at Azzi with a sheepish look on her face before turning back to Paige, “but I know- I know we could cov-ince her because Miss Buecks, Mama’s missed you so, so, so much too.”

“Has she?” Paige asks, her eyes flickering to Azzi who’s trying desperately to keep her face neutral as she keeps her own gaze firmly fixated on a picture of her daughter on top of the mantle.

“She has,” Stephie confirms, before using a finger against the older woman’s cheek to get her to return her attention back to her, “so can we come with you? Please.”

Paige slowly tucks a strand of hair behind the child’s ears as she shakes her head, “no.”

“N-no?” Stephie’s bottom lip trembles at the rejection, “why not? Why can’t we go to New York with you?”

“Because nobody’s going to New York, Stephie-bean,” Paige says firmly and Azzi’s eyes shoot towards the blonde, her lips parting slightly as she processes the meaning behind her words, her heart beginning to race with anticipation.

“Nobody?” Stephie repeats as a question, her little voice filled with hope.

Instead of answering, Paige grabs the grey hoodie she’d brought with her that had fallen to the ground. She gently un-scrunches it, holding out the sleeve of it for Stephie to look at. Azzi cranes her head curiously to get a better look of it, squinting her eyes when she notices something written in washed-out black ink.

“You probably don’t remember this because you were a lot littler when it happened,” there’s a teasing smile of Paige’s face as she uses the incorrect word, “but the first time you ever spoke to me properly, you told me, that your Mama says that one day, you’re gonna be an even better basketball player than she is.”

Stephie beams, “Mama says I’m gonna be the best in the world today.”

Paige chuckles, “I believe it and I believed it then too. That’s why,” she points down at the hoodie, her fingers brushing over the material so delicately, like it’s one of her most treasured possessions, “that’s why I had you sign my hoodie.”

“You asked for my auto-graph?” Stephie’s eyes glint and perhaps she doesn’t quite remember what Paige is talking about exactly, but Azzi can tell that it’s stirred up recollections of something.

“Yeah- yeah I did. And you said, ‘silly Miss Buecks, I’m not famous’ and I said, ‘but if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, you will be. Just like me and your Mama.’ And I meant it. You’re gonna be so- so great one day sweetheart. I know you are,” Paige says with conviction as her thumbs lightly caressing Stephie’s cheeks, “and I- I wanna be right here every step of the way, I wanna be right here to watch you grow up and become the great player -the great woman- that you’re destined to be.”

“You mean it?” Stephie asks, her eyes shining with a fresh new set of tears.

Paige nods, delicately wiping her thumbs under the little girl’s lower eyelid, “I do. I wanna be here, with you and- and your Mama,” she raises her head toward Azzi, mustering a watery smile, “I want to stay. Forever. If you’ll have me.”

Azzi lets out a staggered breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as her eyes remain locked with Paige’s. And suddenly, after eight years spent feeling unfulfilled -eight years spent with this constant sense of being incomplete-, hearing Paige finally say she wants to stay forever, feels a little bit like as if that missing part of Azzi has finally returned back to where it rightfully belongs.

A loud squeal echoes throughout the living room as Stephie leaps back into Paige’s arms, a large smile stretching the length of her whole face as she buries her face back into the crevice between the blonde’s shoulder and her neck.

“Yes, yes, yes,” the little girl chirps excitedly, “of course we’ll have you. Of course, of course, of course,” Stephie says in delight before she turns herself slightly in Paige’s grapes, arms still around the other woman’s neck as she looks imploringly at Azzi, “right Mama?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, pursing her lips as she tears her gaze away from the two people in front of her.

“Mama?” Stephie presses.

“Give me a second Stephie-bean,” Paige whispers to the little girl, bumping her head against her temple.

From the corner of her eyes, Azzi watches as the blonde disentangles herself from Stephie, before slowly getting to her feet and walking towards the younger woman.

“Az-”

“It’s been almost three weeks-”

“It’s been two weeks, six days, five hours and around fourteen minutes,” Paige shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on her face, “give or take a few minutes.

Azzi continues to look away from her, trying to keep her face devoid of emotion, “still took you a really long time to decide you were gonna stay.”

“Well I’m an idiot,” Paige says matter-of-factly and Stephie snickers behind her, “you know me Az. Sometimes these things- they take me a little while to understand.”

“I told you we wouldn’t wait forever,” Azzi says softly.

“I didn’t make you wait forever,” Paige reaches out to gently grab her chin between her thumb and index, turning the brunette’s face towards her, “just needed a little bit of time.”

“You didn’t give me time,” Azzi accuses and the blonde flinches.

“I know. I- I should’ve. Should’ve don’t a lot of things differently when it comes to us but I didn’t and I- I can’t change that but Azzi, I promise, I promise I’ll do everything right this time,” keeping one hand cupped around Azzi’s cheek, Paige uses the other to guide one of the brunette’s hands to rest against her chest, “I swear.”

Azzi swallows, feeling the quick rhythm of Paige’s heartbeat under her fingertips, “how do I know you won’t run away again?”

“Because I trust you,” the blonde whispers, “I trust you to stay and I trust you not to break my heart again. And that- that doesn’t mean that I’m not scared anymore- cause I am. Not a lot but definitely still a little bit. But someone once told me that, trusting is really scary but that maybe- maybe it would be a lot less scary, if we did together.”

“They sound like a really smart person,” Azzi bites her lip, “you should probably listen to them more often.”

Paige chuckles, “well if uh- if they give me the chance, I think I’d listen to them for the rest of my life.”

Azzi shudders and she doesn’t know if it’s from the earnestness of the words spoken or the strength of the emotions in the blonde’s gaze that’s still completely transfixed on her.

“What about New York?” she asks finally.

“I called the whole thing off,” Paige states nonchalantly,“I had Talia call Jonathan Kolb last night and I explained everything to Ohemaa this morning. Everyone’s on the same page. There is no deal anymore.”

“You-” Azzi gapes at the girl in front of her, “you- you already called the whole thing off?”

“I did,” Paige confirms, not a hint of regret in her voice, “I don’t need an escape plan.”

“You called it off before even talking to me?” Azzi asks, knitting her eyebrows together, “you didn’t even know how this was gonna go.”

“I already told you. I trust you,” Paige says simply, “I believe in us Az and I really hope you still believe in us too.”

The words are barely out of Paige’s mouth before Azzi’s crashing into her, the weight of her body sending the blonde staggering back a few steps before her hands steadily secure themselves around the younger woman’s waist. A slightly surprised gasp escapes Paige until the sound of it is stolen by Azzi pressing her lips against the older woman’s. Despite her initial surprise, Paige kisses Azzi back with equal fervor, both of them pouring the myriad of suppressed emotions between them the last few weeks into it. And it feels like a cliché, like coming home.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Paige breaks away first, eyes widening as she slowly turns around to look at Stephie who’s practically vibrating with happiness as she watches the two of them, “Stephie-”

“She already knows,” Azzi says with a slight grin, shaking her head fondly at just how joyful her little girl looks.

“You told her?” Paige looks between the mother and daughter.

Stephie smirks triumphantly, “I figured it out myself Miss Buecks.”

“Of course you did smarty pants,” Paige smiles at the little girl but Azzi knows her well enough -is still so in tune with every little bit of Paige despite the time apart- to see the small hint of disappointment behind it.

“I would’ve told her myself if she hadn’t,” Azzi says quietly and Paige turns back around to face her.

“What?”

“I love you,” Azzi says and she swears no three words have ever sounded as right on her lips, as those three do, “I love you,” she repeats again and she can feel Paige’s hands shaking as they instinctively tighten their grip on her waist, “I love you so much Paige Madison Bueckers and I want everybody to know it. Stephie, our families, our friends, our teammates, the whole world. I love you and I never wanna hide that. I want everybody to know that you’re mine and I’m yours. Forever.”

A strangled sob escapes Paige’s mouth as she presses her forehead against Azzi’s, “I love you too. I love you, so, so, so much. I’ve loved you since the beginning and I’m gonna love you till the very end. Forever.”

Their lips meet in a searing kiss and it’s unclear if they’re both crying more or giggling more, as they hold each other as tightly as possible. And this isn’t their first kiss, far from it- far closer to being their millionth or so- but still it feels like a fresh new start, a brand new love story but with that same old special, all-consuming, forevermore love that has always connected them to each other. The one that had never gone away, no matter how long they’d been apart.

“Ahem, ahem,” an exaggerated cough breaks them apart and the two of them turn their heads at the same time to see Stephie looking dramatically at them, her hands on her hips.

“So, Mama loves Miss Buecks and Miss Buecks loves Mama. What about Stephie?” she pouts, exaggeratedly stomping her foot.

Paige and Azzi both laugh, removing themselves from each other just enough to crouch down and open their arms out for Stephie, beckoning for her to join their embrace. The little girl’s attempt at a sour expression is immediately replaced by a cheerful grin as she runs into their arms, tiny hands somehow managing to wrap around both of their necks.

“You know we love you the most Stephie,” Paige whispers into the little girl’s hair, who lets out a content sigh as she burrows herself further into the two women’s arms.

Azzi hums in agreement, closing her eyes as she leans her head against her daughter’s, feeling Paige’s fingers intertwine with her behind Stephie’s back. And then it’s quiet for a while, nothing but the sound of the three of them breathing and their hearts beating together in sync. Azzi feels at peace, her mind completely calm, no longer overthinking anything.

Because now she finally has everything.

Paige, Stephie, and the promise of a world the three of them can build together, it’s everything.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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ladykailitha · 9 hours ago

Text

The Caged Bird Sings Part 20

Hello! We are back with more of this lovely fic. I think this will have 24 chapters if it keeps going the way it's been going this last week. It might surprise me. It has before, so we'll see.

In this we have Chrissy apologizing and Steve meets the family.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19

The next morning there was a knock on Steve’s hotel door and he went to go get it. He wasn’t expecting anyone. All the kids knew to wait for him down in the lobby and Eddie was off visiting the mysterious Uncle Wayne. And as far as he knew the rest of the guys were off doing other things today, too.

He opened the door to a large bouquet of purple hyacinth obscuring the person who was carrying them. He knew it wasn’t from Eddie. They would have been yellow and daffodils. His favorite.

Suddenly they were being thrust at him, forcing him to take them. “Oh!”

But once they were in his grasp he could see the bearer’s face. Chrissy was standing there looking sheepish.

“Oh hello,” Steve said awkwardly, standing there with the flowers in his hands. “Um...thanks for the flowers?”

She bustled past him into his room. “Sure, come on in.”

She flopped down on the chair and leaned her elbows on her knees. “Look, I’ve been an ass. I big one. And that’s on me. But I think I need to explain why. So sit down and buckle up. This is going to take awhile.”

“Uh...” he waved at the phone. “I was going to order some breakfast if you want anything.”

Chrissy blinked up at him for a moment. “Sure...um, an egg white omelet with sour cream and ham please.”

“Right on it!” Steve said with a grin. He wandered over to the table and took out the flowers that housekeeping put in a vase on it every two to three days and replaced it with the hyacinths. Then he called down for room service.

“You didn’t have to dump the other flowers,” she said tilting her head to the side as Steve threw them away.

“Nah,” Steve said like a half shrug. “Eddie gets me flowers all the time and I do the same thing. Rosa prefers those to the high priced unscented things the hotel gets and is always happy to see me trash them.”

“You really made friends here,” Chrissy said, leaning back in the chair. “I’ve heard nothing but good about you from the staff.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. “Look my parents were assholes, but they were rich assholes who knew that if you didn’t treat staff well, than you would get stiffed in service. They raised me to do the same. Then they became my friends when the only people still talking to me were barely teenagers and their parents. Oh and Eddie of course. I would have been lost without them.”

“I’ve severely misjudged you,” she murmured. “Hence the flowers. According the florist purple hyacinths mean ‘please forgive me’ so...”

Steve shrugged and came over to sofa, where he flopped on it sideways, tucking one arm behind his head. “Story of my life. I think the only person who’s come into my life that immediately didn’t judge me for being who I am was Eddie. And even then he was worried I might be under eighteen.”

Chrissy snorted a giggle. “Look, you looked like a baby chick out there in a sea of metalheads so it’s not hard to see why.”

“Oh didn’t I know it,” he said shaking his head. “I was looking to get laid to have a warm place to spend the night and maybe a couch for a week or two while I tried to get out of town. But then Eddie happened and the rest is history.”

“Well,” Chrissy said with a smile, “you certainly made him happy and I’ll admit sending him your fake ID was inspired.”

“Thanks!”

“So as an apology,” she said, continuing, “I’d like to something special for each of your kids. We got Lucas on lock, but I don’t want the rest of them feeling like you love Lucas more...”

“You’ve got younger siblings, don’t you?” Steve asked with a small smile. “I bet they were the gold child that could do no wrong while you were constantly told you’ll never measure up?”

Chrissy blinked at him for a moment. “How did you know? I’m pretty sure if you had sibling they would have been brought up before now.”

Steve sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. “My cousin, Scott. Not the one who bounces for The Hideout, but the one who made my ID. His parents always wanted a little girl and after three boys, finally got one. Amanda was their parents little darling who could burn down an orphanage, steal a police cruiser as her get away vehicle, and crash it into a cancer ward, and they would still find a way to blame Scott or one of his older brothers.”

“Okay then,” Chrissy said with a huff of breath. “Yeah, that’s exactly how it goes. Thankfully he has sense, but yeah. I just don’t want your other kids to feel left out.”

“Agreed,” Steve said. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to fulfill all of them but here’s what they like.” And then he broke down all their passions.

Chrissy nodded. “Hey do you have some paper and a pen? I want to write this all down.”

“On the desk,” Steve replied. “It’s where I tried to live up to other people’s expectations by trying to get a job, even though my dad made it super fucking hard.”

Chrissy got up and moved to the desk. “I heard about the ice cream incident,” she said over her shoulder. “Eddie wanted to sue, but Chief Hopper talked him out of it. I’m still not sure it was the right move to let it go. You could have been seriously hurt by the stunt. What if it had hit your head or you slipped on the sludge? You could have died.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve said with a sigh, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “But Hopper thought that scaring them by taking them down to the police station would have been enough of an incentive to never do it again.”

Chrissy came back with the paper and pen. “Still bullshit. So let’s make sure I have this right, Max likes skateboarding and video games. Dustin is a huge Corroded Coffin and heavy metal fan, but also likes building little machines and stuff. Mike is also a metal fan, but he likes writing and D&D.” She paused for a moment. “Well, they all like D&D, but especially Mike. Ellie likes fashion and fabric arts. Will is a little artist and has gotten into painting lately...” she looked up from her list. “Does that cover it?”

Steve nodded. “Yup! I hope you can do something for them. Lucas was the easiest because of the basketball game.”

“I can knock out all of them in one event,” she said with a smile. “Or at least one event will spawn a couple of others if I finagle it right. And finagling is what I do best.”

“Oh?” Steve said, tilting his head to the side. “Wha’cha got?”

She stood up with one fluid motion and a change came over her features. Steve suddenly got why this tiny woman was in charge of the biggest metal band in the world.

“You haven’t met Uncle Wayne yet, have you?”

Eddie was vibrating happily beside Steve in the Sunbird. “I can’t wait for you to meet Uncle Wayne. He’s the best the thing that ever happened to me.”

“So you’ve said,” Steve said, shifting to let his baby unwind on the country road. “He instilled your sense of responsibility and caring to others in a bad way.”

“Yeah,” Eddie chirped. “He took me in when dear ole dad decided that the best way to pay back the loan sharks on the house was to burn it down for the insurance. Only the dumb bastard used gasoline and even the stupidest adjuster can tell a gasoline fire on the spot. He tried to tell them it was the loan sharks, but they didn’t believe him and he went to jail for arson.”

“Ooh,” Steve said with a grimace. “My dad is an abusive ass, but at least he’s not trying to burn down houses.”

Eddie snorted. “Dad of the Year he was not, ole Al Munson. Was even worse when I got famous and he tried to take credit for my success.”

“From the confines of a jail cell?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. “That’s some pretty fancy mental gymnastics. Maybe he should try out for the Olympics.”

Eddie laughed.

They pulled up to the house and Steve secretly thought it was amazing. It was a sprawling ranch style house nestled on acres of land, stretching out as far he could see. There weren’t any animals that he could see, but there was an amphitheater and things that were set up for parties and weddings.

A lovely gazebo, a dance floor with an area for the band or DJ, beautiful trees everywhere with fairy lights strung up everywhere. But there was also a wilderness to it as well. Steve could almost hear the sounds of laughter and tinkling of glasses raised in cheer.

It was magical.

Eddie hit his shoulder. “Come on, let me introduce you to the man of the century.”

Steve got out of the car and hurried to catch up to Eddie. They knocked on the door. The door opened to reveal an older man that looked nothing like Eddie at first glance. He had short, thinning grey hair without so much as a hint of a curl, deep set eyes that spoke of a life of hard labor, and a face that was closed off.

Until he saw who was standing on his doorstep. Then the man lit up like it was Christmas. His face fell into an easy smile and the brown eyes twinkled. And there it was, the resemblance.

“Eddie!” Wayne greeted and pulled him in for a hug. “You said you’d be dropping by today, but I thought it would be later in the evening.”

Eddie smiled. “I assumed we’d be later, with lazy over here liking to oversleep, but it turns out the jock is strong with this one!”

Steve pushed Eddie’s shoulder playfully. “I do not oversleep! I get up at eight every morning to go for a swim or a run. You’re the one that likes to sleep in!”

Eddie cackled as Wayne let them in. The house was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. It was warm browns and soft reds with wood paneling everywhere.

“You have a lovely home,” Steve breathed, eye wide, jaw slack. “You can tell it’s well loved and not some stand-in for a catelogue somewhere.”

Wayne tried to suppress his smile, but the amusement crinkled his eyes. “Thank you. The perks of having a rich nephew who likes to dote on everyone and everything.”

Eddie ducked his head and shoved his hair in front of his face. “Flatterer!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wayne said shaking his head. “Flattery works on you. Get in here, you big goof.” He led them to front room and pointed at the biggest, fluffiest sofa imaginable. “Go ahead and have a seat. I’ll go get us some drinks. Is Coors okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a smile. “Sounds good.”

Eddie nodded and then when Wayne left the two of them alone, the manic energy returned. “So what did you think of him? Like first impressions?”

“I’d have him adopt me from the house alone,” Steve said with a snort. “But no, he seems nice. I like him.”

Eddie grinned. “So this is the type of place you like? Interesting, very interesting.” He stroked his chin like he was stroking an invisible beard.

“You’ve bought me a car, clothes, and even jewelry,” Steve said pulling out his canary necklace from his shirt, “you buy me house and I’d marry you on the spot.”

Eddie leaned into Steve’s space. “That’s an incentive, not a deterrent there, Stevie.”

Steve blushed and was grateful when Wayne came back with the beers.

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” he said as he settled into his arm chair. “Eddie liked talking about ya, every phone call, every visit would have something you did or said.”

“Wayne!” Eddie huffed, shoving his hair in front of face again.

“He taking good care of you? My boy?” he asked leveling Steve a stern look. “Don’t feel you hafta lie to me because I’m his relation.”

This time it was Steve’s turn to duck his head to hide his blush. “Yes, sir. He’s been taking care of me better than my own parents could. Or would.”

“Good,” Wayne said with a smile. “Now tell me what you think your Pacers chances are against my Hornets this year...”

Eddie groaned, but Steve leaned forward and started talking to Wayne excitedly.

Eddie smiled fondly as he settled back to watch his two favorite people get acquainted. And if the night went on as it started, they would end up liking each other. And that was all he could ask for really.

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @itsall-taken @wheneverfeasible @zerokrox-blog @beelze-the-bubkiss @blondie1006

2- @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie @themoonagainstmers @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @w1ll0wtr33 @sticknpokelightningbolt @just-a-tiny-void

8- @scoops-aboy86 @kurofuckingshi16 @watermelonmite @eyehartart @dreamercec

9- @little-birch-boy @yearningagain @micheledawn1975 @sadisticaltarts @steddieislife

10- @fearieshadow @kultiras @thesecondfate @tartarusknight @genderless-spoon

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #age difference #ten years between steve and eddie

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parfaitblogs · 2 hours ago

Note

i NEED a angst fic (with a happy ending ofc) based on tolerate it by taylor swift please 🙏 big chance it’s been done before though and im just the most unoriginal bitch ever

tolerate it ❀ s. reid x reader

in which spencer reid gets out of prison, and you baselessly feel like your relationship is growing increasingly one sided. pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: angst tags: post prison reid. neglectful bf spencer reid. happy (open) ending. communication yippee. themes of self doubt in reader. mentions of spencer not eating. word count: 2k a/n: writers block isn't real you just need to watch criminal minds season 12 episode 13 'spencer' and then listen to tolerate it on repeat for three hours straight. iiii know human beings don't talk in long monologued speeches but for the sake of my sanity let us pretend i am shakespeare and spencer reid is my leontes. plzzzz tell me if u liked this or if u didn't yay thank u ily

i sit and watch you. i notice everything you do, or don't do. (lines 3–4)

A fork scrapes against ceramic. It emits a scratching sound that hurts your ears, and you're cringing from your curled up position on the couch as you hear it. Silverware shines beneath the bright, warm glow of his kitchen light, his food barely dented as he pushes it around his plate.

He's been playing with it since he sat down to eat it.

You're not too sure what's going through his head as he takes barely there bites of a meal you cooked. You don't think you want to know. But it takes him all of twenty three minutes to come to the same conclusion he made last night, and every other night before that. That he isn't going to eat any more of the food, and just like his fork, his chair scrapes against the floor as he stands.

He wraps the plate in aluminium foil, the crinkling of metal being your only indicator that he has plans to eat it later. At least, that's what you hope.

When he disappears into the bedroom, you follow him. Like a lovesick puppy, you're trailing after him, and your chest feels hollow with how embarrassing it all is.

He doesn't know you're watching him, though.

At least, not to the extent you are. He's field trained enough to know that you're keeping an eye on him, but your silence is only indicative of you giving him the space he so politely asked for three days ago. He's not in his right mind to assume you're silent for any other reason, and you've battled to a loss with the thoughts of letting him into your disaster of a brain.

He doesn't need to know that.

The ensuite door shuts behind him, and you hear the water turn on minutes later. You take the cue to curl up on your side of the bed, your fingers toying with the paper edges of a book you now had in your lap. The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, for you were rediscovering your love for children's novels amongst this trying time between you and Spencer.

"Hey, did you buy me more shampoo?"

Your head lifts at the voice, the snowy Narnia world you had built in your brain shattering in an instant, as you're met with the dull colours of Spencer Reid's bedroom, and a showered and dressed Spencer Reid standing only a few feet away. His bedroom hadn't always been dull. Really, nothing had actually changed artistically within it to make it dull. But there's something about no longer laughing in a room once filled with so much love that mutes its vibrance.

"Yeah," you say, dog-earing the page you were on and slipping it onto the nightstand. "I saw you were running low."

His lips part as he exhales, and you hate that you can tell he's pushing away something snippy. It wasn't that he was actively trying to start fights with you, but his temper has grown short, and he has more anger in his heart than before.

"You didn't get the right one, that's all."

And though it isn't said rudely, your chest opens up like a black hole regardless, and a thick ball of emotion lodges in your throat.

"I'm sorry," you force past your lips, despising the hollow sound of your sad voice, and the fact that he notices it. His eyebrows frown towards each other at the sound of you, and he takes a step towards the bed.

It's pathetic, right? To be this upset over him letting you know the thing you bought him wasn't correct. In that almost fake sounding soft, kind voice he has when he is trying to keep his unnecessary frustration at bay.

But it wasn't like this was the first time you'd done something for him in recent, and been told you did it wrong, instead of simply being thanked. Acts of service he was finding problems within no matter what they were, each new critique chipping away at the scales of your self confidence. You don't even think he's meaning to do it.

Every time this happens, memories of the other times flash violently in your head, reminding you that he could not find the beauty of being cared for by you the way he had before this. This, this thing you were barely even able to string the letters of together, because it seemed so foreign and faraway to you. Spencer Reid in prison is not a sentence that makes sense in this — or any other — timeline. You don't think it ever will. And yet.

You'd cooked him meals every single day since he got out. Meals he'd barely ever touch, wrap in foil, then put in the fridge for his work lunch the next day. You don't know if he's even eating them at work, or if he's just taking them there to throw them out. You've been too scared to reach out to any of his team members to ask. Knowledge is power, but knowledge makes his negligence all too real.

There's a fear in calling it negligence. It isn't fair of you to expect the same man before and after prison, and you know he's dealing with more than you can fathom. You were prepared for distance.

Just not this much.

The submerged sound of your name tugs you from your thoughts, and suddenly Spencer is closer than he was before, and he's repeating your name over and over in calling. Once you rapidly blink and shake your head, he determines you've returned to Earth, and he's falling silent again. There's concern knitting his eyebrows together, and he's got his hands hovering in the air, as if he's reaching for you, but second guessing himself at the same time.

"Whats going on in your brain?" he asks you after a few beats of the two of you just staring at each other.

Like a dam breaking, his question triggers an onslaught of emotions, and every fear and insecurity you've had inside you spills out.

"I feel like you suddenly hate me," your eyes rapidly search the duvet in front of you for your words. "Or—or I annoy you with my presence? Or my care? I mean, I try to do things for you and you barely even spare them a second glance, or thought. You barely talk to me anymore outside of updating me on your schedule. We sleep with miles of distance between us," you gesture to the bed beside you. "I cook you meals you don't eat, I wash your clothes you don't fold. Both of which are things that I'm fine with, because I can't imagine how skewed your appetite is, and I—I know laundry is a trigger now. But there is not even a slight hint of you—you being thankful. You know, appreciative. I feel like I'm following you around like a servant, and I'm doing things with no gratitude in return. I'm doing things I shouldn't have to, because I'm your girlfriend. Not your maid. But they are things that I want to do, because I care for you, and I love you," you pause, a self deprecating smile appearing on your face. "And—and you haven't even told me you love me since the day we got you home. Do you even love me, still? No, don't answer that. I don't think I want to know. I mean, I do. I don't know. God, Spencer, can you say something?"

He doesn't. For a long while, he stares at you, and you train your eyes on the pattern on the bedding you're currently sitting under. His gaze is pulverising, and every second that passes is another limb turning to dust beneath it. His silence should be enough of an answer for you. Yet, you hold onto groundless hope still.

It feels like eternity has passed you by, by the time you hear his voice again.

"I don't mean to make you think I don't love you," he says. "I do love you. Which feels meaningless to confess to you now, knowing how you feel, and I wish my expansive knowledge of words could come up with a confession that does justice to how you feel, but also makes you feel better. I can only hope you take it at face value, and don't assume I'm saying it because it's what you want me to say."

He finds a seat on the bed in front of you, fingers fidgeting with each other as he fixates on the wooden flooring in front of him.

"I am grateful for everything you've done for me recently. I'm sorry I haven't expressed that. I'm having a hard time putting one foot in front of the other, let alone stringing together sensical thoughts. I wish I could tell you what my mind sounds like without feeling guilty about it. It isn't nice, and every thought I have is far from positive," he lifts his eyes to you, and you watch in real time as they soften, for the first time since he came home. "I will tell you that there's you. Among every awful thought and feeling I have, there is you. I think I... I think I've been coming across as ungrateful because you are a breath of relief after every bad thought and feeling. Am I making sense?" you nod your head, and he sighs in, namely, relief. "I take a step back from processing my emotions and figuring out how I'm going to talk about them with that bureau therapist when I think about you, because you are the one good thing I have to hold on to. So I just bask in the thought of you, or the sight of you, and focus on nothing else."

You aren't sure when you began to cry, and you only realise it when you have to sniffle before speaking. "You can focus on so many things at once, though."

"Not anymore," he admits, looking back down. "I don't know what's happened. I've gone from having a brain that works inhumanly — which is objectively an incorrect statement, but I digress — to one that cannot multitask on two separate things at once."

"Oh," you whisper. "I see."

"I'm so sorry I've made you feel as though your efforts go unnoticed, honey," he murmurs. "They don't. This has just been really difficult."

"I know," you say, wiping your tear stained face with the back of your hand.

There's a part of you that wants this to be the end of it. The end of self doubt, and distance, and instead the beginning of your relationship rebuilding itself alongside Spencer.

There's a larger, more logical part of you, that knows you cannot just sweep every self conscious doubt under the rug and move on.

"I just want some time," you tell him, and his shoulders tense as you speak. "Not to—not to break up. Or even for us to have a break. I don't want that. I've just felt very... unloved. Like you're merely tolerating my presence in your life. And now, I know you aren't. But I have to find my confidence in myself in this relationship again before I can move on."

"Okay," his voice is strained as he speaks, and you know he's not exactly content with your request for space.

You try not to focus on that, in order to stand firm in your decision.

That is where the conversation ends. And just like every other night, he climbs into bed and leaves a considerable amount of distance between your two bodies. You choose not to dwell on it, because this is now him giving you the space you so politely requested. You were catastrophising, and you'd be damned if you let such a thing control your life any longer.

It maybe wasn't all in your head, but you still had to take the self doubt shaped dagger from your stomach out.

now i'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life. (line 30)

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid x reader hurt/comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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scary-grace · 2 days ago

Text

Enough to Go By (Chapter 23) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Chapter 23

“Good news,” the doctor says, and you look up from the compound you’re mixing at your station. “Shigaraki is tolerating the procedure much better than I expected. I can only assume it’s thanks to your quirk, and because of how well he’s handling it, we can add another quirk to the mix.”

You’re not sure how you feel about that. “What about the neural load?”

“With just one more, it won’t be a problem,” the doctor says. “All For One carries many quirks, and as Shigaraki will be the next him, it’s in our interests to get him used to it.”

That phrasing is never not going to be weird to you – Tomura not as All For One’s successor, but as the next All For One. “Okay,” you say. You know already that the doctor won’t change his mind. “Which quirk?”

“You’re familiar with our collection of quirk factors, and you know Shigaraki Tomura better than I do,” the doctor says. “Why don’t you choose?”

What would be useful to Tomura? What would he want? You think about it for a moment, try to think about situations Tomura’s found himself in where the lack of a certain quirk has frustrated him. Between the League’s quirks and the collection Tomura’s already receiving from the doctor, there’s really only one gap that you can see. “Does that Nomu’s Warp quirk work on the Nomu itself?”

“Mm — yes,” the doctor for says after a moment. “All For One has used it to travel, when it was in his possession. It would make sense for the next him to have it as well.”

The next him. There’s that phrasing. Again. The doctor is frowning. “Don’t you think he’d want something flashier?”

“Decay is flashy enough,” you say. When you think of the doctor’s quirk collection, you can’t think of anything that matches Tomura’s ability to level a city with the touch of his hand. “He should have something useful. Warp is useful, and it’s not something his opponents will be able to access, even if they do have Kurogiri.”

“Yes, Kurogiri. Has your contact made any progress in figuring out where he’s being held?”

“He’s in Tartarus,” you say. “That’s where they all are.”

All For One, Moonfish, Muscular, Overhaul, and Stain. Mustard is there too, which you find appalling — he’s underage, just like Toga, and neither of them belong in maximum security under 24-hour guard. You’ve heard things about the conditions inside the prison, and they’re awful. If you needed more reasons to win the war to come, you can add Tartarus to the list — you don’t want you or anyone else to wind up inside.

The doctor nods brusquely. “When Shigaraki liberates All For One, remind him to grab Kurogiri as well, won’t you?” Then, as an afterthought: “Overhaul, too. That quirk –”

“It’s gone,” you say. “Tomura Decayed one of his arms, and Compress –”

Something clicks in your head. You take out your phone and call Compress, ignoring the doctor’s complaints. Compress answers. “Yes?”

“Do you still have Overhaul’s arm?” you ask, and the doctor’s complaining abruptly cuts off. Compress answers in the affirmative. “What condition is it in?”

“Pristine condition, given that I haven’t released it — other than that unfortunate instance with your coffee table,” Compress says. “Why?”

“Keep it like that. We might need it later,” you say. You thank Compress, hang up, and turn to the doctor again. “We have one of Overhaul’s arms, preserved at the point it was removed from his body. Will that work?”

“Yes,” the doctor says, startled.

“Good.” You’re not sure how Tomura will feel about getting Overhaul’s quirk, and that’s the least of your worries. “Won’t that be too many quirks? If we’re already adding Warp –”

“Oh, Overhaul isn’t for Shigaraki,” the doctor says. “It’s for you.”

You stare at him in horror. “You’ve been very insistent in your role as the team’s medic,” the doctor says. “With your quirk, at the moment, you’re only useful to Shigaraki. With the Overhaul quirk, you could heal your other comrades’ injuries with ease.”

He’s right. With Overhaul’s quirk you’d be beyond effective as a medic. You already have the anatomy knowledge you’d need to use it. But you don’t want any part of what Tomura’s been going through., and when the doctor looks at you, he reads it all over your face. “We’d wait until Shigaraki possesses All For One, of course,” he says. “That would make the transfer painless. And we’d transfer a copy, to avoid any personality contamination.”

“Personality contamination?” you repeat, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“You’re familiar with the way that transplanted hearts carry the characteristics of their original owners. It’s the same for quirk factors,” the doctor says. “With a copied quirk, the level of influence is significantly lower. So there really is no reason for you to refuse to take on Overhaul’s quirk at all.”

Something about that pulls a thread in the background of your mind. It bothers you, but not as much as the idea of taking on Overhaul’s quirk in the first place. “That quirk killed one of our friends. The rest of the League won’t want me to have it.”

“The same quirk brought your friend back, didn't it? I’m sure you can convince them,” the doctor says. “In any case, if you’re certain that Warp will suit Shigaraki best —“

“I am.”

“We’ll begin preparing the transfer,” the doctor says. “How are the bullets coming?”

“I think I’ve fixed the problem,” you say. “I’m ready to run another test.”

“Excellent. We’ll run it now.”

When you test the bullets, you test them on clones of the doctor. It was his idea, not yours — to ensure the bullets are working, you need a quirk that switches off visibly, and the doctor’s clones aging decades in a heartbeat is as good of a tell as it gets. In your last trial run with the bullets, you shut off the quirk factor successfully, but tests confirmed that it began to repair itself almost at once. This time you’ve woven in another quirk — Petrification, which allows the user to paralyze any part of another person once they’ve touched them. The wielder, whoever they were, likely used it for full-body paralysis, but you’ve been tinkering with it, narrowing it down. You think you’ve created a compound that isolates and nullifies the victim’s quirk, and with Petrification added in, you can make the change permanent.

You think you’ve made the change permanent, and according to the tests the doctor runs on the double you just stabbed with one of the needle-tipped bullets, you’re right. “Excellent work,” the doctor says. “I would have come to this conclusion alone, obviously, but it’s much faster with two. All For One will be very pleased, even once he discovers how you lied to him.”

“I didn’t know I had a quirk.”

“I was there,” the doctor says. “You may not have lied knowingly about your quirk, but you certainly concealed the fact that you knew Shigaraki Tomura before his quirk awakened. If you had revealed that, All For One would have removed you.”

You knew that, sort of. Tomura definitely knew. “Still,” the doctor says, almost reflectively, “I suppose it worked out in the end. If All For One had removed you, he would have missed out on the benefits of your quirk.”

Your quirk benefits Tomura, not All For One. Tomura, and only Tomura. If that wasn’t the case, the doctor wouldn’t be talking about giving Overhaul’s quirk to you. The thread pulls a little tighter in the back of your mind, but the doctor cuts the thought off with an instruction before you can follow it. “Start production of the bullets. I’ll prepare Warp for transfer, and we’ll begin this afternoon. Things are moving along very nicely. After this, all that’s left is Super-Regeneration — and of course, All For One.”

The thread pulls tight, then snaps. It’s a good thing the doctor’s already left the room. If he hadn’t, the pure horror that’s rattling your entire body would have given everything away in a heartbeat.

You must be wrong. You have to be wrong. You’re desperate to be wrong — but as you pull the pieces together, you realize that the truth has been there the entire time, and it’s just as terrible as you first thought. Stolen or transferred quirks carry imprints of the original wielder’s personality. The effect can be reduced by transferring a copy, but the doctor is making sure Tomura gets the original All For One. Copies were good enough for the other quirks, but not that one. All this time, you’ve heard the way the doctor refers to Tomura and assumed that he meant to describe Tomura as All For One’s successor. But he’s never said successor, or heir. He always says it the exact same way — Tomura will be the next him.

All For One never meant for Tomura to inherit his role. He plans to transplant his original quirk to Tomura and steal Tomura’s body for himself.

The realization crashes down on you so hard that you nearly black out, but you drop your head between your knees and force yourself to breathe. Passing out won’t save Tomura. If you want to save him, you have to think. You have to make a plan. But planning right now feels like an impossibility. Doing anything feels like an impossibility, because you’re still you. Functionally quirkless. All but defenseless even with a clip of quirk-canceling bullets in your gun. Easily dismissed and easily overlooked and the last person anyone would ever suspect of doing anything to subvert Tomura’s — and theoretically All For One’s — plans.

You take slow, deep breaths, trying to slow down your thought process to match. The doctor doesn’t know what he just told you. He doesn’t know that you’ve put the pieces together, and even if he did, he wouldn’t think for a second that you’d try to stop it. After all, he’s watched you stand by as he tortured Tomura for the past three months, even allowing yourself to be pulled in to help him do it. If you didn’t blink at that, why would you blink at this? You’re loyal to Tomura’s vision, which the doctor thinks is the same vision as All For One’s. You’d never dream of crossing him.

Except you’re not loyal to All For One’s plans, or even Tomura’s plans. You told Spinner when he asked, the same way as you told yourself when you set off down this path — you’re loyal to Tomura, to Tenko, and no one else. That loyalty means you’ll cross him sometimes. It means that you’ll foil his plans if you have to. In this case, it means that you’ll stop him from receiving All For One.

Even as the thought comes to you, you know it’s impossible. You could beat the doctor in a fight, you’re pretty sure — his quirk extends his lifespan at the cost of his physical strength and speed, and when it comes to protecting Tomura, you’re basically insane — but he has Nomus on his side, and if you blow your cover and lose, it’s over. So you can’t take All For One out of the equation. Tomura will wind up with the quirk no matter what.

He’ll wind up with the quirk, but there’s no reason for him to wind up with the original. If you make sure he’s given a copy instead —

The plan clicks into place and the instant it does, the urge to enact it becomes overpowering. You grit your teeth, trying to ignore the buzzing in your limbs, the panic that floods your system with adrenaline and makes your hands shake. You can’t do anything right now. You don’t need to do anything right now. Warp is being transferred this afternoon. All For One is next, and Super-Regeneration last. You have time to figure out how to make sure the quirk factor the doctor transplants into Tomura isn’t the same one he took from Tomura’s master. In the meantime, you need to make sure the doctor doesn’t suspect you. If he suspects you, he’ll lock you out of the process in a heartbeat.

He told you to work on the bullets. You still need the bullets. You clench your hands into fists, ordering them to stop shaking, and when they don’t, you lose patience with yourself and go fumbling through one of the supply cabinets in the lab for a scalpel.

You remember promising Tenko that you’d stop — or maybe just swearing that you didn’t do it anymore — and the times he’s seen you naked since you started again have been few enough and far enough between to allow the injuries to heal. You’ll have all the time in the world for the three lines that you carve into your hip to fade, and by the time you’ve wiped the blood away and taped down a sterile pad and disposed of the scalpel at the bottom of a sharps container, you’re calm again. You know what you need to do. You won’t let this happen to Tenko. You can save him. You will.

Making the bullets is time-consuming. By the time the doctor comes back from tending to the Nomus he’s cooking up, you’ve only made three. Three, to go with the five Tomura and the others stole from Overhaul — and while you’ve been working on it, you’ve added a twist to your plan. The doctor peers over your shoulder at your progress, then goes to the window to observe Tomura. “We’ll let him rest a little longer before we transplant Warp. I’m hungry. Go and bring me some food from the cafeteria — and some for yourself as well. You look terrible.”

You’ve been hearing that a lot lately. It’s apparently a good thing your costume includes a veil. As much as it irks you to act like the doctor’s servant, you need him in a good mood, so you change into a set of scrubs and head to the cafeteria, blending in easily with the other staff members. This is the kind of place you might have worked one day, if nothing had changed, if you hadn’t found Tenko again. You were proud of working at the clinic, but you’d have been proud to work in a hospital, too. A hospital would have paid better, had better benefits, and depending on the specialty you were in, maybe better hours. The kind of things you’d have needed if you ever wanted to start a family.

You don’t think about things like that anymore. You hop in line at the cafeteria, order what the doctor likes and something you know you won’t do more than pick at, and make your way back down to the lab, willing your hands not to shake, willing your breath to stay even. You deliver the food to the doctor, and then, rather than retreat like you usually do, you sit down at the far end of his workspace. The doctor raises his eyebrows. “Can I help you?”

“Sir, I had a question for you,” you say. Sir never hurts with men of a certain age, and since you’ve used it before, the doctor won’t smell a rat to hear you use it again. “All For One — the quirk — it’s instantaneous, right? The target’s quirk is gone as soon as All For One touches them and decides to take it.”

“Yes,” the doctor says. “Why do you ask?”

“The compound in the bullets I’m making isn’t that fast,” you say. “It’s quick, but if the person who was shot acted quickly enough, they could counter-strike before their quirk was destroyed. So I was wondering if — um — I know it’s the most important quirk you have, but –”

You play up nervousness, anxiousness, a desire to please. The kind of thing the doctor expects to see from a devoted servant, one who’d die for her master. The doctor smiles kindly, or condescendingly. From him, they look the same. “You’re wondering if you can have a copy of All For One for your experiments?”

You nod. “The compound in the bullets works now, but I’d like to make it even better. I want to help Tomura as much as I can.”

The last part is true, at least. “You’ve asked nicely, and you’ve been quite diligent,” the doctor says. “Of course you can have a copy. I believe there are three or four in storage, and of course Mocha can make more if needed.”

“He remembers how?” you ask. “He’s made a lot of copies recently.”

“Of course, but you may wish to jog his memory,” the doctor says. “The original is stored in the repository, the same as the others. Show it to him and he’ll replicate it again. But do try to be judicious with your work, dear. Waste not, want not.”

“Yes, sir,” you say at once. The doctor tilts his head, studying you. “Sir? What is it?”

“You don’t look well,” he says abruptly. “At this proximity, maintaining Shigaraki’s increased healing factor shouldn’t strain you.”

“I’m not — strained,” you say at once. “Just tired. Uh — and hungry.”

“You aren’t eating.”

“I was nervous to ask you about All For One,” you confess. That’s not a lie, either. You look down at your bowl, feeling tears spring to your eyes. “I don’t want to let Tomura down. I’ve been trying as hard as I can –”

All true. “But I’m worried it won’t be good enough,” you continue. “What if it’s not enough, and something happens because of me, and he –”

“Well, you can at least be assured that you won’t live to see it,” the doctor says. “Your quirk will bleed you dry to keep him alive. But we’ll render that unnecessary all too soon. Once Super-Regeneration is transplanted and combined with the effects of your quick, Shigaraki’s transformation into the second coming of All For One will be assured.”

That’s a new phrasing. He hasn’t used that one before. For a second you wonder if you’re wrong — but then as you sniffle over your bowl of cafeteria ramen and the doctor passes you a handkerchief, you decide that it doesn’t matter if you’re wrong or right. With the course of action you’re planning to take, Tomura will get All For One’s quirk no matter what. All you’re going to do is remove any chance that he’ll get All For One’s soul along with it.

The transplantation of Warp goes as well as it could. The sound of Tomura’s screams rings in your ears almost constantly, and every time a procedure ends and you’re left to care for him before he returns to stasis, you’re terrified that he won’t forgive you for your part in it. But it’s not just that he forgives you — it’s that he doesn’t seem to blame you in the first place. “It was my idea, not yours,” he mumbles, when the words blur their way out of your mouth. “Just stay here.”

“Of course,” you say, like always. The hole in his stomach’s closed now — he can eat and drink, although the only thing you’ve been able to get him to accept is a few sips of water. He wouldn’t even drink it at first. It took you dabbing a wet cloth across his lips for him to open his mouth. “You’re almost done after this. Two more and then it’s over.”

Tomura nods. His eyes are closed. “When it’s over,” he starts, then grimaces. You raise the cup of water to his lips again and he takes it from you with a shaky hand, drains it, sets it aside. “Over here. There’s room.”

You look askance at him. “On the operating table?” There’s not room by any stretch of the imagination. “Tomura –”

He shakes his head. “Not Tomura.”

“Tenko.” You lower your voice. “Will you eat something if I sit with you?”

“Why don’t you want to –”

“I do. I just want you to eat something, too.” You study him, wondering what’s going through his head, hoping he’ll agree. After a long moment, he nods. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

You end up sitting towards the end of the operating table, Tenko’s legs propped up in your lap as he picks at a plate of food. His muscles are stiff — you could tell when he lifted his legs up to stretch them across your lap — so you massage them gently, trying to work the knots out. Tenko relaxes by degrees. “What did I get today?” he asks after a while.

“You’re doing really well, so the doctor told me to pick an extra quirk for you. I chose Warp.”

“Warp?” Tenko’s mouth curves into a smile. “Bad call. Now I can come get you whenever I want.”

“If you think I don’t want to be with you all the time, you haven’t been paying attention.” You wish you were sitting closer to him, or that the plate wasn’t in the way. You want to hold him closer than this. “You were saying something earlier, about when this is over. When it’s over, what do you want to do?”

“Win. Fast.” Tenko picks at the food you brought him. “Before that I want to do stuff. With you.”

“Like, sex stuff?” You’re having a hard time thinking of stuff the two of you haven’t already done that doesn’t start to veer into kinks. The two of you haven’t talked about kinks. “Sure. I’m not sure what kind of stuff you’re thinking about, but we can probably –”

Tenko’s kneed you lightly in the stomach. “What was that for?”

“Not sex stuff.” Tenko peels one eye open and catches the look you’re giving him. “Not just sex stuff. Other stuff. Date stuff.”

“We’ve gone on dates,” you remind him. “Two of them.”

“Those aren’t real dates,” Tenko says. Ouch. “Where we go somewhere and do something. Like a movie. Or the arcade –”

“That kind of date,” you say. Your heart sinks a little bit. “I don’t know if there’s anywhere we can do that where it would be safe.”

“The PLF has other towns. Not just the one we fought in. We can go there.” Tenko’s plate is empty. He sets it aside. “And stay there, after.”

“After the date?” you ask. Tenko shakes his head but doesn’t explain. “After — oh.”

After he wins. After the old world ends, in the new one. You’ve known Tenko was thinking about it, known that some of what you’ve said has taken hold, but aside from jokes about things he wants to ban — cats have been added to the list that already contains heroes, hate groups, and bras — he hasn’t said anything concrete about what he wants it to be like. Except this. Except that he wants to have somewhere to live, and he wants you to live there with him.

And none of that will happen if you can’t stop All For One from stealing his body. “Okay,” you say to Tenko. “We might have to go on multiple dates, then. So we can decide which one we like best. I should warn you, though — I suck at arcade games.”

“I don’t care about that.” Tenko reaches for you, catches you around the waist and pulls you awkwardly in until you’re sprawled against him. It’s not comfortable, but he’s doing his level best to get comfortable anyway. “I’m good enough for both of us.”

“I know.” You’ve believed him every time he said that, ever since you were kids. He’s promised he could do it, whatever it was, for both of you, and you’ve never doubted him. You’re not doubting him now. But at the same time, you know that what needs to happen now is something only you can do. You need to do it for both of you. “Ten?”

He’s falling asleep. His grip on you is loosening even as he tries to wrap you around him. “Yeah?”

“I love you,” you say. “You know that, right?”

He nods. “Always knew,” he mumbles. His next words are slurred, almost incomprehensible. “Same here.”

You’re still sitting with Tomura when the doctor comes back in. He takes one look at you both and rolls his eyes. “Get up. The sooner we put him into stasis, the sooner we can transplant All For One.”

The doctor usually sends you back once Tomura’s in stasis, but that can’t happen this time. You untangle yourself from Tomura’s arms carefully, giving yourself time to phrase the question. “Can I stay for a little while once he’s under?”

“This again? You already know –”

“Not to sit with him,” you interrupt as carefully as possible. “I want to work on the bullets a little more. I promise I’ll stay out of the way. I won’t get underfoot.”

“You haven’t been underfoot,” the doctor says. “A bit sentimental, perhaps, but you’ve made yourself quite useful. You can stay, but you’ll have to stay overnight. Johnny will need a break after this next trip.”

“Which trip?”

“I want you to retrieve Overhaul’s arm,” the doctor says. “While I’m sure Compress has it safely stored, it’ll be better preserved here.”

You nod. Another stupid idea is churning in the back of your mind, but you shove it away. One crazy idea at once is the most you can handle. You tell yourself that, but your mouth has different ideas. “I can preserve it once it’s here, sir. If that would help.”

“That will be very helpful indeed,” the doctor says, smiling. “If you were worried that All For One would be unforgiving of your lie, Saintess, I’d cease to worry about it. He rewards loyal service generously.”

You nod, and close your eyes as the taste of warp sludge fills your mouth. One thing at a time. One plan. One course of action. Nothing else you do will matter if you can’t use your perceived loyalty to All For One to stop him from destroying Tomura.

Spinner and Re-Destro pounce the instant you get back, but then Hawks puts in an appearance, and Spinner detours to run interference while you run to find Compress. You badly need to talk to Spinner — you have to warn him what All For One is trying to do — but you can’t with Hawks sniffing around. Spinner doesn’t come to find you until you’ve already packaged Overhaul’s severed arm for transport, when you’re in the act of calling the doctor to tell him to bring you back. “You’re not staying? I thought he was going into stasis –”

“He is. This is something else.” You try to think of what to tell Spinner, what he’ll need to know if you’re caught and taken out of the picture. There isn’t much, now that you think about it. Even if the doctor catches you, it’ll already be too late. “Listen. If anything happens to me, go to Jaku hospital. Down below. That’s where the doctor is, and the Nomus –”

“What do you mean, if something happens to you?” Spinner’s eyes widen. “Is something going to happen to you? What’s going on?”

“There’s not time. Just — if I’m not back, go there. Don’t leave Tomura there –”

You break off, coughing. Warp sludge is filling your throat. “Don’t leave him. Remind him –”

“About what?”

“Who he is.” It’s the only hint you can give. Then warp sludge chokes off your voice, and when it clears, you’re alone in the darkness beneath Jaku hospital once more.

You wait through the rest of the day. Into the night. You make the doctor hover over you as you work to extract and preserve Overhaul’s quirk factor, taking up so much time that he’s glad to leave you alone when it’s done. As soon as he’s gone, you get moving. You’re familiar with the organization of the quirk database by now, and you go straight for All For One. One original quirk, and three copies. Or so you think.

You’re pretty sure the doctor doesn’t suspect you, but if you were in his shoes, you wouldn’t trust anybody when it came to preserving Tomura’s plans. You set the original quirk factor on its glass slide on the workbench and study it for a moment. It doesn’t look like much — just three full layers of skin, peeled from the palms of All For One’s hands. Your stomach twists when you think about how agonizing it must have been to remove. All For One’s palms have holes in the center of them. You don’t remember that from the hand that closed over your face the first time you came here, but you had other things on your mind.

You set the original aside, then line up the copies alongside it. “Mocha-chan,” you say, and the Nomu appears at your side. “I need a copy of the original quirk.”

Mocha makes it for you, and you affix it onto a new slide, peeling the label off of the original and adding it to complete the picture. Then you tuck it back into the archive in the proper spot and slide it shut.

Next, you pick up a scalpel, and you start with the copies, dragging the blade of the scalpel firmly across each one. You’re not pressing hard enough to cut through the layers of skin completely, but as you test each copy, they collapse into sludge when the pressure grows too firm. You destroy each one, then turn your attention to the quirk labeled as the original. Time to find out if the doctor’s even slightly suspicious of you. If he is, there’s no way he’ll have left the original All For One quirk factor within your reach. You wouldn’t.

You cut into the peeled-away palm of All For One’s hand, biting deep enough to cut through it entirely, but it doesn’t collapse. You cut into it again, amputating the thumb, but the integrity of the quirk factor remains intact. So the doctor does trust you, then. Your heart is racing, and in spite of the fact that you have the proof you need, you continue to cut, slicing All For One’s quirk to ribbons. And when that’s done, when you’re surrounded by nothing but slivers of skin, you drop the slide to the floor and crush it under your heel.

It doesn’t feel like enough. You want to stomp on it harder, and after a second, you do. You sweep the rest of the slides off the workbench, too, shattering them, and add them to the pile of crushed glass on the ground. You imagine it’s All For One’s face that you’re stepping on, that you’re obliterating what’s left of his features with strike after strike, finishing a job that All Might couldn’t. You aren’t like Tenko. You don’t blame All Might for everything, even if you do see the flaws in heroic society, even if you do believe that the world would be better off if everything about it changed. But you do blame All Might for one thing, one thing that’s unforgivable — failing to save Tenko. If All Might had truly beaten All For One, he would never have stolen your best friend away.

It feels hypocritical to blame All Might when you failed Tenko, too, but you were just a little kid. You weren’t the one who took responsibility for saving everyone. What you’ve taken responsibility for is this — not preventing All For One from being passed to Tenko, but making sure that the piece of his master’s soul gets is as weak as possible. It’s all you can do. It’ll have to be enough, and you tell yourself that it is, that it will be. A shadow of All For One isn’t nothing, but you’re not afraid of it. If you’re by Tenko’s side, you can help him keep it at bay. And maybe if your next plan pans out —

But this plan isn’t finished yet. One thing at a time. You turn to the Nomu again. It’s been watching you silently, its eyes blank and staring. “I’m going to clean this up, you say, gesturing to the glass on the ground. The Nomu says nothing. “I need three more copies of All For One.”

The Nomu makes them for you, and you slide them into the database alongside the copy you’re passing off as the original. Then you get to work sweeping away the glass, sponging away the piles of sludge and scraps of skin, concealing the evidence of what you’ve done. There’s a weird feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach.

At first you can’t figure out what it is. But the further away you get from the destruction of All For One’s original quirk, the clearer it becomes. You’ve lied, you’ve stolen, you’ve been an accessory to kidnappings and murders. You’ve used an illegal weapon and killed someone with it. You’ve been complicit in illegal human experimentation. All of that is more than enough to put you within Kazuo’s parameters. But what you’ve just done feels different. It feels like something you can’t come back from, something that’s subverted All For One’s plans directly, something he or the doctor would happily kill you for. You took the trust the doctor had in you and twisted it into a weapon, manipulated and flattered and pretended yourself into a position to ruin everything, and then you did it without thinking twice.

You know you did the right thing. You aren’t sorry about it. You’d do it again in a heartbeat. But you can’t shake the thought that of everything you’ve done since Tenko came back into your life, this is the one that makes you feel more like a villain than anything else.

<- Chapter 22

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tenko shimura x reader #tenko shimura x you #shimura tenko x reader #shimura tenko x you #x reader #reader insert #please hold #man door hand hook car door

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fandomgirlz01 · 3 days ago

Text

The Most Perfect Christmas Ever

JJ Maybank X Routledge Reader

Imagine on fandom instagram?: No

Prompt or Request or Requested Prompt?: Yes: (1) "Cute Christmas socks." (2) "Are you going to stay out there in the cold all night?" (3) "Come here. I bet you can fit in my coat with me and it’ll warm you up." (4) "Is that my scarf?" (5) "Be careful you’re clumsy and it’s really slippery out here." (6) "Ah. The ground is so slippy.!” (7) "Call me elf one more time!" (8) "Chaos has come again." (9) "Christmas is doing a little something extra for someone." (10) "Come here. I bet you can fit in my coat with me and it’ll warm you up." (11) "Everything I want I can’t have." (12) "Here. Let me pick you up so you can reach the top of the Christmas tree." (13) "How long ago did (Character) fall asleep?" (14) "I believe the Abominable Snowman may be real. I think there may be something in that." (15) "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold."

Style of Writing: Single Fic

Rating: PG ~ For all the fluff and cuteness, but a few adult comments…

Edited: Yes

Word count: 6,648

Post Date & Time: Originally posted: December 25th 2024 at 1:45 AM Reposted: January 23rd 2025 at 10:57 PM

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings Here

Listen to the story be read out loud here {coming soon}.

Summary: You, your brother John B and JJ (Jackson Jessy "Maybank" Groff) spend another Christmas together, your first Christmas without your father after he’d gone missing. This Christmas however is different than all the others that the three of you have spent together.

Authors Note: I got these amazing prompts from a fellow writers page @bonniebird Bonnie is an inspiration to me as well as an amazing writer and artist. I did change some of them up so they fit the story better, but I did try to keep them pretty close to the original prompts. Anyway, Bonnie’s work never fails to make me smile and feel all the feelings that I should when reading. I WISH I could write as amazingly as she does, but I’m nowhere near her level yet, I hope and pray that one day I will be. Ladies and gentlemen please go give her love and support because she really deserves it. She’s one of my many inspirations and I’m so so happy to use her prompts because they really pushed me to write this fic even though I was blocked for all of my other works. I feel like it helped me break out of it, so THANK YOU Bonnie for everything 🩵🩵🩵

Also this is our first JJ Maybank fic. We have so much coming out for JJ he will eventually be added into our main people we write for so be on the look out for when we add that in. We both hope you guys enjoy this one. 🩵

You hum softly to yourself along with the Christmas music you have playing as you lay out the decorations. Every Christmas, you, John B, your dad, and JJ would enjoy Christmas together. When you were growing up and found out what JJ’s dad did to him (you didn’t tell them of course, because that’s JJ’s place to tell people about it), you begged for JJ to start spending the holidays with you. Ever since that very first time they agreed, he’s always come over. It’s always been your absolute favorite time of year. How could it not be? When you have JJ and John B around you, your two favorite people? This year is different though, because it’s the first Christmas without your father since he had disappeared only a few months ago now.

“Hey. Wow. You’ve really got everything ready,” John B comments in shock as he looks at everything you’ve laid out so far.

“It’s Christmas, JB, of course I’ve got everything ready. Don’t I always?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him and shrugging.

“I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve and we’re only now decorating…” you shake your head and he chuckles.

“I know normally you have it all started the last week of November,” he comments, amusement clear in his tone.

“I know right! I’m so behind. This year has been a lot… it’s been one stressful year…” you mutter out with a roll of your eyes and he again hums in amusement as you bite your lip.

“Hey. I get it. It definitely has been wild,” John B agrees and you sigh.

“It’s just… it’s the first one without dad. We should still celebrate, be happy to still all be together right?” You ask, unsure of your own words.

“Of course, bug. I’m sure we’ll enjoy it,” he tells you as he stops you for a moment to pull you into a hug.

“Plus, I’ll have my two favorite guys with me. I’m happy and I refuse to not be happy during my favorite time of year,” you push away from the hug as you ramble while continuing to lay stuff out, not bothering to spare a look at your brother.

“Hey. I get it. I do. No need to preach it to me, bug,” he reverently tells you, giving you a small shrug.

You continue to lay ornaments and many other decorations out on the table. You step back to look at your handiwork, proud of how it looks. You get pulled out of your thoughts when your brother laughs, making you look at him instead.

“What?” You ask him, eyebrow propped and he points down at your feet.

"Cute Christmas socks," he tells you though chuckles and you look down at them, pushing up onto your toes.

“Oh, really? Good, I got both you and JJ a pair of your own,” you inform him with a giant grin and his face falls.

“There’s no way JJ will be wearing those…” he tells you and you giggle.

“Who says! They’re cute!” You cry out and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Sorry to tell ya, bee, JJ doesn’t do cute,” he tells you with humor lacing his tone.

“Fine. You’ll wear them though, right?” You ask, giving him puppy dog eyes.

“Not a chance. Puppy eyes don’t work on me anymore, bee,” he tells you and you smirk even though he’s not looking at you.

“Really? Then why won’t you look at me, huh?” You teasingly ask and he huffs.

“No reason. No reason at all. Speaking of your two favorite people, where's the other?” John B asks with a hint of humor, changing the subject as he picks up an ornament to look at before carefully setting it back down.

“Actually, he was supposed to be here about thirty minutes ago…” you comment as you finally look up at the clock.

“Don’t worry, bug. It’s JJ, I’m sure he’s just running late,” John B tries to comfort you, but you shake your head, rushing over to start putting your jacket on.

“Exactly. It’s JJ. He’s never late this time of year. He loves having Christmas with us,” you comment as you shove your feet into your shoes.

“Bug? What are you doing?” John B rushes over to you and you shrug as you stand while zipping up your jacket.

“I’m going to look for him. What if he needs us?” You counter as you wrap a scarf around your neck and John B sighs.

“I’m coming with you then,” he informs you as he grabs his own jacket.

You give him a look of exasperation before shaking your head once more. You pull the door open before starting down the porch, but John B pulls you to a stop. You go to yell at him, but he raises his hands in surrender before pointing over at something and you turn to look where he's pointing. You see JJ sitting curled up on the dock and you sigh in relief.

“You go talk to him. I’ll finish setting up, okay?” John B offers and you smile softly at him.

“Don’t you wanna go over?” You ask, popping an eyebrow at him and he pauses with lips pursed in thought.

“No. It looks more like a you and him moment,” John B answers with a small soft smile.

“Okay. If you’re sure, birdy,” you tell him, giving a side eye to see if he changes his mind.

When he doesn’t show any signs of changing his mind, you firmly nod at him before starting to walk over to JJ as John B heads back inside. It’s a cold night so you bring your cupped hands up to your mouth and breathe into them, hoping to warm yourself up a little. Once your hands have warmed up, you move them under your armpits, trying to keep them that way as you move closer and closer to JJ.

“Jayj…” you call out softly and you can see your breath in the air.

“Hi, cupcake…” he mutters, not looking at you which makes you frown.

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” You ask as you sit next to him, your feet dangling over the side of the dock.

“JJ, talk to me…” you mutter out when he doesn’t answer. You move to cuddle into his side, but he uses his shoulder to shove you off, still keeping his face out of view.

“JJ. Seriously, what’s wrong?” You ask as you grab his shoulder, trying to pull him to look at you even though you already have an idea about what’s going on.

“Just leave me alone, cupcake. Please?” he practically begs, still turned away from you and you frown even harder.

“Jayj, please…” you whisper out to him once again and he sighs, finally turning to you, not liking the hurt in your voice.

“Oh, JJ…” you gasp when you see his face full of black and blue bruises. You had a feeling that it’d be about his dad, but you had no clue it’d be this bad.

“See, that’s why…” he mutters, looking away from you once more.

“I don’t want you pitying me again… you do it far too often,” he mutters after you haven’t said anything.

“I don’t pity you, JJ. If anything I think it makes you incredibly strong…” you tell him with a firmness to your tone and he feels himself getting choked up.

“Yeah… whatever…” he responds, not believing you as he shoves you off again.

“I’m really sorry, JJ…” you mutter softly, not knowing what else to say to get him to believe you. You frown with a shake of your head as tears well up in your eyes.

“What do you have to be sorry for? You didn’t do this…” JJ asks as he still refuses to look at you and you reach out for him again.

“I’m sorry you have to go through this. I’m sorry you got dealt such a bad hand in life. I wish… I wish I could force Luke to see you. To actually see you,” you explain as you're finally able to pull him to look at you. He wishes he could wipe your frown off but only smiles softly at you.

“It’s not so bad. I’ve got you and John B. It could be worse I guess,” he tells you with a shrug as he looks away again and out to the water.

“I mean, you are right. Having us is pretty awesome,” you agree playfully, bouncing your eyebrows and he chuckles to himself, shaking his head. You smile, seeing his tough exterior finally starting to break down.

“It really is,” he softly agrees as he still looks out over the water and you hold back a sigh.

“Well, are you going to stay out here in the cold all night and stew in what happened? Or are you going to come in and have fun with your favorite person?” You goad him while nudging him with your shoulder.

“Oh, John B’s my favorite person now, huh?” he playfully asks, his own lips forming a bit bigger of a smirk now and you gasp.

“Umm, no. I was actually talking about myself,” you respond with a deadpan look that makes him smile even more as he laughs, shaking his head.

“What makes you think you’re my favorite person?” he asks you, all smiles now and you can’t help but smile alongside him.

“It made you smile, didn’t it?” You answer him with a shrug and he’s shaking his head in disbelief again.

“Yeah… yeah. It did,” he chuckles, continuing to smile softly at you.

"Well come on, then, let's get inside. We have a tree to decorate still and many other Christmas festivities,” you tell him with a beaming smile as you go to get up, but he reaches out and stops you.

“Can we maybe just stay here for a moment more?” he mutters out and you blink at him for a moment.

“Yeah, of course, Jayj…” you softly tell him and he smiles a small smile at you.

The two of you sit in silence for a little while before JJ, who's not wearing a coat, starts to shake a little bit."Come here. I bet you can fit in my coat with me and it’ll warm you up," You tell him as you hold your coat open to him.

“Thanks, cupcake,” he mutters as he slides in under your arm and you smile warmly at him.

“Of course, Jayj. It’s us against the world,” you whisper to him as you bring your pinky up and he smiles again before bringing his up as well, wrapping it around yours.

“Us against the world, cupcake,” he agrees and you sigh, laying your head against his that now lays on your shoulder.

“Hey, is this my scarf?” he asks after a while of silence as he lifts one of the sides of the scarf up.

“Umm. Yeah, I think it’s the one you left here last year. I found it in my winter clothes. You can have it back if you want,” you answer with your cheeks burning hot and you try to hide your face.

“Nah. Keep it. It’s a better fit on you than me,” he tells you softly and again you can’t help but blush.

He says nothing else after that, just cuddles back into your shoulder and you squeeze his shoulder. The two of you stay sitting there, cuddling while looking out over the water in silence and just enjoying each other’s presence.

“Hey, tweedledee and tweedledum, are you two going to stay out there all night and make me decorate alone? Or are you going to come be of some help?”John B calls out for the two of you from the edge of the dock and you both roll your eyes.

“Well, you ready to go in?” You ask him and he smiles at you before nodding.

“Yeah, let’s go,” he agrees before pulling away and the two of you start to stand.

"Be careful cupcake, you’re clumsy and it’s really slippery out here,” JJ tells you as he stands up and you cross your arms.

“I’m not that clumsy!” You fight back and he hums in amusement.

“Okay. I’ll believe that when you're not tripping over thin air,” he jokes back with a smirk and you scowl at him.

“Whatever…” you tell him as you roll your eyes before turning and taking a step to head back to the house.

You let out a small gasp as you start to fall back, but JJ, knowing you well, was already reacting and quickly pulling you back up. You stare at him in shock for a moment before you slowly start to smile, making him smile too.

"You were right. The ground really is so slippery,” You joke, eyes wide in shock and he playfully rolls his eyes at you.

“Never change, cupcake. You’re truly one of a kind,” JJ tells you with a grin that’s utterly infectious.

“Only if you promise never to change yourself, Jayj. You’re one of a kind too,” you request and he nods in agreement.

You both stare at one another for a moment, your eyes staring into the blue pools that are his eyes that you’ve come to love so much over the years and you have a burning need to kiss him. You can feel his heart going what seems to be a mile a minute as he watches your eyes flicker down to his lips and back up to his eyes, his eyes doing the same. He squeezes your waist gently with a million thoughts of how your lips might taste flying though his mind. He wishes he could just kiss the adorable frown off your face, but he knows he can’t, making him frown too. You frown even deeper before opening your mouth to ask him why he’s frowning, but before you get the chance, you get cut off.

“Hey! Would you two stop making eyes at each other and come help me decorate!” John B calls out again, interrupting the moment and you almost groan.

“Thanks for catching me, Jayj,” you whisper out and something flashes through his eyes for a moment, an emotion you can’t quite decipher before he grins again, letting you go.

“I’ll always catch you, cupcake,” he promises with a light smile before the two of you start to walk over to John B.

You slip a little bit more, but you reach out and grab onto JJ’s arm. He looks down at you and chuckles as you cling to him like a koala bear, making him chuckle.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you to the end of the dock safely,” he promises with a laugh as he laces his fingers through yours and continues to walk over to John B.

"Chaos has come again, man!” JJ announces as you and he walk into the château before he’s letting go of you to walk over to John B.

“Don’t think that’s a good thing, man,” John B deadpans and you fight back a giggle as JJ pulls back from the guy hug they share, looking offended.

“Fine then, I take it back. You’re definitely not my favorite person. It’s cupcake,” JJ says as he pulls you into him from behind.

“Oh, so now I’m your favorite,” you ask, crossing your arms and giving a faux annoyed look.

“Let’s be completely honest, bee, I think you always have been even when he lies outta his butt and says you aren't,” John B comments with a roll of his eyes as he picks up an ornament and hangs it on the tree.

“It’s disgusting sometimes, really,” John B continues with a fake gag as he hangs the ornament up on the tree.

“Ohh, I wanna do the angel!” You happily call out, clapping your hands and John B chuckles.

“Don’t you always do it? This year’s no different, Bee. It’s your one job,” John B comments in amusement, making you pout.

“It’s not my only job! I have others,” you fight back and JJ chuckles, slinging his arm around your shoulder.

“Yeah, JB, her other job is lookin pretty,” JJ comments as he hugs you into his side and you fight a blush as you groan, pushing him away.

“I extremely dislike both of you,” you comment, crossing your arms with a look of dismay falling on your face and they both grin.

“That’s not true. You LOVE us,” both of them singsong to you and you uncross your arms, shaking your head.

“Okay, maybe I do, but let’s get this show on the road,” you finally cave and agree with them before walking over to start decorating the tree some more.

“Okay, miss head elf,” JJ jokes with a roll of his eyes and John B laughs.

“Oh, that’s a good one, Jayj. She really is a snappy head elf this time of year, isn’t she?” John B agrees before pushing the joke a little further and you pause, crossing your arms again.

"Call me elf one more time!" You seeth out through clenched teeth and they share a look.

“Awe, come on, elfie. It’s a cute Christmas nickname, that’s all. Plus you're the perfect height for it,” JJ tells you again, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he squeezes you affectionately and you huff, shaking your head.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s get decorating already…” you tell them in annoyance and JJ snickers along with John B.

Together you, JJ and John B all dance around and decorate, making you completely forget about everything that’s been going on the past few months. For a moment it’s just you and your two favorite people living happily with nothing and nobody to take it away from you. You’d give anything to live every single day like this. You walk away, still laughing at something JJ had said and walk back in with the scissors. You stop and fondly watch as John B and JJ fight over who gets to put an ornament on a certain branch. Blue Christmas by Elvis starts to play and without realizing it, you start to cry.

“You okay there cupcake?” JJ asks as he turns around to see you crying and worry flows through him.

“I’m okay, Jayj…” you tell him softly with a gentle smile on your face as you set the scissors on the table.

“Then why the tears?” John B asks and you giggle, wiping at your eyes.

“I just wish we could all live like this everyday. Just us three having the times of our lives with nothing to worry about,” you start, pausing to catch your breath a little and sniffle.

“Both Kie and Pope have their parents. I’m happy to just have you two,” you explain, more tears welling up in your eyes and JJ clicks his tongue, coming over to give you a hug.

“I’m happy we have each other too, Bee, but unfortunately we can’t have it everyday. There’s always going to be good and bad days,” John B agrees with you as he too comes over to hug you.

“I know, I just wish it could be that way,” you sigh out and JJ squeezes you once more.

“I think we all do, cupcake. Let’s just try to live in this moment then, yeah? Enjoy the time we have,” he asks and you grin up at him.

“Yeah, okay,” you agree and he smiles, happy to see you back to your happy-go-lucky self.

You gasp as the song’s lyrics perfectly fit the moment. “But I’ll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas without you,” you sing along to Elvis as you sway and JJ shakes his head, but smiles as he watches you enjoy the music.

“Perfect timing, much?” he jokes, propping an eyebrow and making both you and John B burst out laughing.

“Yeah… definitely don’t quit your day job, bug,” John B jokes and you shrug, seemingly unfazed by his playful insult.

“And what day job would that be, birdy? Hunting for gold?” You playfully ask back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Okay. Okay… you win,” he chuckles, holding his hands up in surrender.

“I always win,” you say in a devious tone with an equally devious look.

“Don’t I always win, Jay?” You ask, turning to JJ who looks between you and John B in a panic for a moment.

“Sorry, JB. I have to say she is definitely a winner in my book,” JJ tells both of you and you let out a cheer, pumping your fist in the air.

“Eat it, birdy!” You cheer out as you do a little dance.

“So not fair! JJ’s only on your side because he’s crushing hard. Let’s bring Sarah in as a tie breaker,” John B complains and you pause your dance, crossing your arms as you prop an eyebrow at him.

“How would that break the tie? One, Sarah would choose me too, and second, that’d only make it tied even more if she did choose you,” you comment very pointedly and he shrugs, sticking his tongue out.

“At least it’d be more fair. Again, JJ only chose you because he’s crushing on you,” John B repeats and you shake your head.

“And Sarah is so crushing on you,” you point out and JJ lets out an “ooooohhh”, making you laugh.

“She got you there, JB,” JJ comments with an infectious smirk.

“Okay birdy, you win. I take it as a compliment that my favorite person is crushing on me though,” you happily reply, leaving a kiss on JJ’s cheek and he blushes before awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Okay. Okay. Enough fighting, you two. I think it’s time to put the angel up, right?” JJ cuts in, only wanting to change the subject as he holds the angel up for you.

“Yeah, okay.” You agree as you take the angel from him.

You look down at the angel in your hands, the angel you and your mom had picked out together when you were five. You don’t remember much of her, John B does because he’d been a little older (he’d been seven) when she left, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt when you think about how she just left the three of you behind. John B and your dad had told you so much about her that sometimes she felt like a phantom to you, like someone that was there for a second, someone you knew so well, then gone the very next. Tears well up in your eyes and you look up at John B. He immediately knows what you’re thinking and lets out a sigh, sad for you as always; he always felt sad you couldn’t fully remember her like he could.

“I know, bug. I miss mom too,” John B sympathizes with you and you wipe under your eyes as JJ squeezes your shoulder.

“I just wish I’d gotten to actually know her a little more,” you mutter and JJ pulls you into a hug, knowing that’s the only sure way to comfort you.

“Here, cupcake. Let me pick you up so you can reach the top of the Christmas tree.” JJ tells you after pulling away from the hug and he bends down before slipping his head between your legs lifting you as he stands.

“You better not drop me, Jayj!” You squeak out before giggling hysterically as you’re now sitting on his shoulders, one hand in his hair, the other holding the angel and he stands straight.

“I would never dream of it, cupcake,” he sweetly tells you as he holds you a little tighter to make it known he definitely won’t drop you.

You grin as you put the angel on the tree before looking down to see JJ looking up at you. You nod at him and he bends to let you down slowly. Once you have both feet on the ground, he stands up straight next to you. You smile at him before suddenly you're letting out a gasp, pushing JJ away just the slightest but in your excitement.

“What? What’s wrong?” JJ asks with immediate worry as he looks at John B for help, but John B just shrugs.

“It’s If Everyday Was Like Christmas, my favorite Elvis Christmas song,” you happily explain and JJ lets out a sigh of relief, shaking his head.

“We should have known,” John B playfully rolls his eyes.

“Oh, we really should have, dude. She is an old soul,” JJ agrees and he chuckles as you start to sway again just as you had with Blue Christmas and JJ shakes his head again as you hold a hand out for him.

“What?” JJ asks with an arched eyebrow and you grin, making his heart melt at seeing you so happy.

"I want to dance with you. Come on. Dance with me, Jayj,” you beg, holding your hand out to him more insistently.

“Okay, but you should know I’m not a good slow dancer, sweetheart,” he informs you as he takes your hand in his and you smile as you help him get into position.

“It’s okay, J. Just sway with me. We don’t have to be all that fancy, we’re Pogues, remember? Not kooks,” you remind him and he laughs as he sways with you.

“P4L. Never a kook,” JJ happily agrees, proud that you feel the same way he does.

You lay your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and his leans against yours. He looks at John B for a moment over your shoulder, who seems to be watching the two of you fondly. John B then surprises him by putting his hands up in surrender before leaving the room and JJ melts against you a little more.

When If Everyday Was Like Christmas ends, both of you slowly come to a stop and you lift your head from his shoulder to look at him. You smile softly and again there’s a moment where you lock eyes. His bright brilliant blue eyes shining with happiness and another emotion that makes you think you might just kiss, but just like all the other moments over the years where you’d been close, John B walks back into the room.

“And what’s going on here?” John B asks, ever the overprotective brother that he is and you roll your eyes.

“Nothing, birdy. Are we watching Die Hard or not?” You change the subject as you push away from JJ and he tries not to frown at the missing feeling of your body heat.

“Not. I thought we could open a gift or two,” John B tells you and you arch an eyebrow at him.

“I thought we all agreed on no gifts this year?” You ask and John B shrugs.

"I’d be down. I know we said no presents this year, but I wanted to get you both something special to show you how much I appreciate you, so I did…" JJ admits with a shrug and John B grins.

“My gifts really aren't much. Just one to open tonight and tomorrow for each of us. All have super special meanings, that’s all,” John B informs you and you grin, shaking your head.

“Well, I really can’t say much. I did the same thing,” you admit with a giggle when they both give you a shocked look.

“Bee! It was your idea!” John B cries out and you smile sheepishly.

“Oops,” you shrug, feigning innocence. "Christmas is doing a little something extra for someone else, right?” You ask with a lopsided grin and John B lets out a chortle, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I mean, she’s not wrong, dude,” JJ happily chirps out and you smirk, bouncing your eyebrows.

“I’m never wrong, Jayj,” you joke, poking his side and he scoffs.

“Okay. Yeah, whatever you want to believe, cupcake,” he humors you as he rubs at the spot where you’d poked him.

After opening gifts, you’d all decided to watch the movie so you cuddle up next to JJ and John B sits in a chair off to the side. As the movie plays, JJ lays behind you with his strong arm wrapped around your waist like normal, and anytime he laughs you feel the warm air from his mouth over your neck, making goosebumps rise on your arms. You fight the whole movie not to fall even more in love with him and the way he holds you, but just like any other time the two of you cuddle, you do.

“Well, I’m beat. I’m going to bed,” John B announces as he slaps his hands down on the arms of the chair and pushes himself up.

“Goodnight, JB,” you call out as he walks toward his room and he turns around.

“Goodnight, bumblebee. Sleep tight,” he replies with a soft smile your way.

“So cupcake, you heading to bed, too?” JJ asks and you look up at him.

“I’m not really tired. I might go lay in the hammock for a little while,” you inform him and he nods, letting go of your waist.

“You could come join me if you want, but you definitely don’t have to,” you tell him, biting at your lip, nervous he might say no and he chuckles.

“And skip out on our special hammock time?” he asks like he is offended and he smiles when you perk up.

“Really?” You ask in excitement and he smiles even more.

“Really, cupcake. I love our hammock time. Let’s go,” he promises softly as he pushes up off the couch and grabs the blanket the two of you always use.

He then turns to you and looks down at you sitting up before reaching a hand out to you. You smile almost shyly as you slip your hand into his and he pulls you up from the couch. He wraps his arm around your shoulders and together you walk out of the château. You both walk down the stairs and over to the hammocks.

“After you, princess,” JJ tells you as he bows like a butler would and you giggle.

“Why, thank you. You're a very kind Prince, you know that?” You ask him as he lays down with you now and he holds his arm up for you to cuddle up to his side.

“Well it’s easy to be kind to a princess like you,” he tells you and you roll your eyes at his flirtiness as he uses his other hand to put the blanket over the two of you.

You giggle as he struggles to lay the blanket out evenly over the two of you and you reach out to grab the other side, pulling it over yourself. You both finally relax and he squeezes you softly as the two of you look up to watch the very prominent stars in the sky.

“Can I tell you a secret, cupcake?” he whispers out to you after a few minutes as he uses his fingers to rub your arm.

“Of course, Jayj… you can tell me anything. You know that,” you promise as you cuddle into his side even more.

"I believe the Abominable Snowman may be real... I think there may be something in that," he whispers and you slowly grin, turning to smile at him.

“You might actually be right… I mean, who’s to say he’s not real?” You ask and he chuckles, loving the fact that you just agree with him.

“I think I may have everything I want right here right now,” you whisper out as you cuddle back down into him with a hum of contentment.

"Everything I want I can’t have,” he admits and you frown, pushing up to look at him again.

“What do you mean? You don’t have everything you want? What else could you want?” You ask with a frown, sad that he could possibly not be as happy as you thought he was.

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before letting them open once more. His blue eyes stare into yours and you almost lose yourself in them.

“You,” he whispers almost nervously and you’ve never seen JJ at his nervous before as you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Jayj. You have me. I’m not sure why you think you don’t,” you tell him in confusion and he huffs in anger, but not in anger at you. No, he’d never be angry at you, but he is angry you're not getting it.

“No, princess. You don’t get it… I want us to be… uggh,” he groans out, reaching up to rub at his chest and your eyebrow furrows even more as you reach up, moving his hand before rubbing his chest for him.

“Jay. Just calm down and tell me. It’s okay… you want us to be…” you prompt him to continue on as he seems to calm a little more.

“Okay… uhh… I want us to be more than friends, and I know Pogues don’t Mack on Pogues, but I’ve wanted to be so much more with you for years…” he admits, hesitation clear as he refuses to look at you for the second time that night and you just smile.

“Jayj… look at me, please…” you whisper out and it takes him a moment, but soon he does.

"It was always you, through everything it was always you, Jayj. Nobody else,” you whisper again with a grin growing on your face as you watch him slowly realize exactly what you’d said.

“Wait… really? But wait… what?” he asks in confusion and you giggle.

"I'd always choose you, Jayj.” You softly promise and nuzzle into his chest bashfully and he chuckles, bringing his hand up to your head to massage at your scalp.

“I’d always choose you too, Princess,” JJ promises just as softly as he leaves a kiss to your forehead.

“You missed…” you tell him with a confident grin as you sit up to look at him and he chuckles again, shaking his head.

“Oh, my bad. Let’s see if I can fix my mistake then,” he jokes right back with his own smile growing.

Before you know it, his hand trails from your hair and to your neck, lightly pulling you to him while tilting your head ever so slightly. He moves slowly and treats you so gently, making the butterflies erupt even more in your stomach. There’s a thick anticipation that falls over you with how slowly you move closer together, but it’s the kind of anticipation you really don’t want to end. Finally his lips meet yours in a firm yet delicate and maybe a little desperate kiss. You are a little surprised, thinking it would have been a little more heated with knowing how JJ is, but the delicacy of which he kisses you proves to you just how much he’s wanted this.

He worries if he makes it any more heated like he normally does with other girls, he’d ruin this whole moment and he really doesn’t want to lose you. You're the most important girl out of all the ones he’s ever been with, so if he messes it up he’s scared he might lose you all together. You take a leap and kiss him a little harder, surprising him for the smallest of moments, but he smirks into the kiss before reciprocating it even more. You smile into the now heated kiss as you reach up and wrap your arms around his neck and play with the hair at the nip of his neck, making him groan. You then maneuver a little more so now instead of laying side by side you lay on top of him and he squeezes your waist after his hands move from your neck.

Slowly you pull away, breaking the kiss almost unwillingly and he chases your lips, giving them another peck and you giggle. He then leans his forehead against yours and you grin wide as both of your heavy breaths mingle together.

“Wow…” you whisper, biting your lip and he grins at you.

“Definitely wow. I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” he admits and you grin as you use your thumb to trace his lips.

“I know it may be early, but I love you, Jayj. You’re my favorite Christmas gift,” you tell him as you scoot down and lay your head on his chest.

“It’s not early at all, princess. I think we’ve loved each other for a while now. We’ve just been too scared to tell each other,” he tells you as he kisses your head and pulls you even closer then before.

“Oh, and you're my favorite gift too, sweet girl. I love you,” JJ adds on and you sigh happily.

“Merry Christmas, Jayj…” you mutter out as tiredness takes over your body.

“Merry Christmas, cupcake,” JJ parrots you again, squeezing you a little closer.

It’s a little while later and JJ smiles when he realizes your breathing has evened out, meaning you’re happily asleep in his arms. He yawns, but refuses to fall asleep quite yet, just wanting to enjoy having what he thought he never could.

"How long ago did bug fall asleep?" he hears a whisper, making him look up at John B.

“Only a little while ago. She’ll probably sleep in a lot more than the last few years. I thought you went to bed?” JJ whispers, not wanting to wake you as you sleep soundly on his chest.

“I did, but I knew you two would come out here and I wanted to check to make sure you're all good before I actually fall asleep,” John B whispers back and JJ smiles a thankful smile at him.

“Thanks, man. We’re good,” JJ tells him and John B nods, pausing to watch your sleeping face.

“You take care of her, you hear me, JJ? You break her and best friends or not, I will break you,” John B says in a serious whisper and JJ’s eyes widen for a moment.

“Don’t worry, dude. I don’t plan to and if it ever does happen, I’d break myself before you even get the chance,” JJ whispers honestly and John B smiles at his best friend.

“I know, but now that the two of you got wise and got together, I still need to make it known. I’m her big brother first and foremost,” John B informs him with a shrug and a happy smile at seeing his sister happy, as well as safe and sound in his best friend's arms.

“Goodnight, JJ. Sleep well, buddy,” John B tells him before turning and starting back to the château.

“Night, man. You sleep well too,” JJ tells him in a happy whisper as he nuzzles into your hair.

John B knows without a doubt that JJ is good for his little sister and you are for JJ too. He’s so happy the two of you have finally confessed and made it official. He’s had to watch the two of you pine for one another for years and it was painful sometimes because he cares for both of you so much. First and foremost though, as he’d told JJ, you are and will always be his first thought. It’s just a big brother thing to protect his little sister.

JJ watches until John B makes it into the château before deciding to hold you close for a little while longer. Before he knows it, your soft, even breathing lulls him into his own slumber and his eyes close, but even in his sleep he holds you close, never ever wanting this Christmas to end; the most perfect Christmas ever for the both of you.

The End…