#I really don't want to see that thing moving

[purplesaline]

So, I've noticed when this complaint is often issued tends to be when the lack of communication requires suspension of disbelief. When something is written/portrayed really well that lack of communication makes complete sense because the character's motivations and thinking process have been well established. So let's say we know thr main characte is afraid of conflict, for example, and we get to a point where communicating with the love interest would mean risking potential conflict. If we don't understand WHY the MC is afraid of conflict, or if we don't understand how that fear of conflict impacts their life, if we don't see if happening between the MC and characters other than thr love interest for similar stakes we're probably going to struggle with why the MC isn't just communicating because it will clearly prevent conflict while not communicating will actually cause it.

And the thing is, very few romances/romcoms ever properly develop this aspect of the character because miscommunication has become an easy trope to move the plot forward. Or it could be because the author intrinsically understands why the character would act that way because it's how they'd act and it seems so natural to them they assume it's universal (and they likely don't fully understand why they do it either).

So, in response to the person above, no. They probably didn't consider that because for lots of people communicating with someone they love and value and don't want to hurt isn't actually scary and that being vulnerable comes naturally to them. So maybe it would be helpful if the story showed them that the main character feels like that, and why they feel that way. What evidence supports the character's belief that communication is scary and bring vulnerable is hard?

If you can show your audience that you'll never hear the "why don't they just communicate?! Are they stupid?" complaint again.

But also, not all conflict in a story needs to arise from a lack of communication. Maybe it's time to branch out and brainstorm some different complications. I've seen other authors do it, and do it well (even in romance novels!), and I believe in you!

"Why didn't they just communicate?? They're so stupid!" Have you considered that communicating with someone you love and value and don't want to hurt is scary and that vulnerability takes practice and that perfect characters with perfect words make the most boring stories of all

[dragonsondragons]

Prologue/Hard To Resist

Part of the You Should Probably Leave series

Description: In which Jack’s therapist challenges him to enjoy the daytime and he admits he has a work crush.

Warnings: yearning!jack, medical social worker!reader, reader is Jack’s work crush, slow burn, tons of therapy, working through trauma, Jack on his #healingjourney, angst, unspecified age gap. 

Word Count: 2.1k

Authors Note: Enjoy the first little snippet of this story! This part is solely Abbot's POV during a therapy session, but next part we will see him interacting with reader and the rest of the Pitt crew. Yay! Let the yearning begin, hope you enjoy :) This series is based on the song You Should Probably Leave by Chris Stapleton, I would highly recommend giving it a listen before/while reading.

(I thought this gif from Chicago PD was so Jack at his therapists office lol)

[Masterlist]

Jack’s therapist had recommended that he try to get more comfortable in the daytime. His relative ease in the darkness of the night was a useful coping mechanism for a time, she explained to him one session, but he didn't have to be in fight mode anymore. She was encouraging him to seek out safety and connection in the daytime so that his past had less control over his present. 

Jack had scoffed when she said that. Because what else does his past do than rear its ugly head every moment of every day? And did he even want to forget it? All of those soldiers he couldn’t save? They deserved to be remembered. 

“This isn’t about forgetting them,” she reminded him, “but rather processing your past experiences so that they are less distressing in the present. Putting yourself outside of your comfort zone of the night could be empowering. It could give you enough space to hold those people with you and move forward living as full of a life as you can. In their honor.”

“In their honor,” Jack echoed, mulling it over. He could do that. He wanted to do that. Move forward. That’s why he was doing all this work in therapy. But one thing he had come to find out, is that actually changing is a lot harder than knowing you want to. 

“Any ideas on what could be your first attempt at enjoying the daytime? Maybe some sort of social interaction,” she led him with her question. Her and Jack had talked about the power of improving social bonds before, how they can create community and give someone a deeper experience of life. Jack promised to give it a try but admittedly doesn't follow through much on that one. Jack didn’t really want a deeper experience of life if that meant opening yourself up to feeling all the pain that comes along with it more deeply, too.

“I don’t know, doc. I don't have many friends.” 

“Outside of work, you mean?” she said, surprised at his statement. He spoke of his coworkers all the time, they seemed plenty friendly.

“Well…there’s Robby. We hang out outside of work.” By that, he means that they push each other around at beer league hockey when their work schedules allow it and then grab a beer after. Other than that, their main points of interaction are admittedly at work, often on the roof of PTMC. 

“Yes, there’s Robby. But that's not exactly out of your comfort zone. That's pretty firmly within it from what I know.” Jack was silent, not keeping eye contact like he usually does. She could see there was something he wasn’t letting on. She never forced Jack to talk about anything he wasn’t ready to. That's something he appreciated about his therapist. But she also knew when she could push him a little bit. “Anyone else, then?” He’s silent again. She let it simmer, waiting for him to fill the gaps.

“There’s someone I work with,” Jack blurts out, his ears turning red. His knee was bouncing up and down. 

Your face flashed in his mind and he wrung his hands together. Jack was usually good at composure, but he found himself starting to crumble at the mere thought of you.

“You seem a little nervous. Care to tell me more about this someone?”

“Uh, well…yeah, she makes me a little nervous sometimes. But mostly she calms me down.” He wasn’t letting on much.

“Hmm, what about her calms you down?” his therapist hummed, encouraging him to continue.

“She's a social worker in the ED. Smart, caring, great at what she does,” he rambles. “We eat lunch together sometimes. If the timing works out on shift. When I'm having a shitty time at work… sometimes she makes me feel better. Just her being there.” He thinks about your knee brushing against his under the table after he made you laugh. Some stupid story about a guy who broke his femur literally slipping on a banana peel.

“So what about her makes you nervous then, if she makes you feel better?” 

“I mean– she's beautiful, that's mostly what makes me nervous.”

I can’t believe I just said all that, he facepalms internally. With all the respressing Jack does, sometimes a feeling will just catch up to him out of nowhere. There are a lot of things he used to distract himself throughout the day. From working in the ED or drowning out the silence at home with the police scanner, to working out until his whole body ached and volunteering at the VA. But there was never enough to fully distract him, eventually whatever it was he was trying to prevent floats to the surface.

After losing his wife years ago, after losing his brothers in a desert overseas, Jack had played it pretty close to the chest with his feelings. If he doesn't show his emotions, even to himself, then he could try to pretend they don’t exist. That the pain doesn’t exist. 

But that's why he’s in therapy, because the pain still very much exists. And one day he finally realized he couldn’t go on any longer without doing something about it. That was more than a year ago now. 

For this to work, you have to be honest with me, he remembers his therapist saying in their first session. But most importantly you have to be honest with yourself.  

If he’s being real honest with himself, he likes you. He had barely even admitted it to himself before today, but god he likes you. And with each day you were getting harder and harder for him to resist. 

Now, he had practically announced the crush to his therapist. Admitting out loud that he has some type of feelings for you made him more nervous than anything else. He couldn’t deny it now. Time to be honest.

“Maybe you should invite her to do something with you,” she proposes with a knowing look. 

“I don't know if that would be a good idea,” Jack says earnestly. Maybe he had admitted the crush but that doesn't mean he was ready to do something about it. 

“Why’s that?”

“Because she probably doesn't want anything to do with this,” he gestures around himself vigorously, slightly worked up. “I’m a little fucked up, and scary, I guess… I’ve heard people say.” And old, he thinks to himself, too old for her at least.

“Did she tell you she wants nothing to do with you?”

“No.”

“Then you don't know that. You said you eat lunch together. If she chooses to spend her valuable break time with you she likely enjoys being around you.” His face is full of apprehension. “You’re allowed to let yourself have good things, Jack.”

“There’s this part of me that wants to believe that,” he admits quietly. He’s opened this door now and there’s no closing it. He can’t help being drawn to you anymore. “But there's also a louder part of me screaming run.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, head hanging and taking a deep sigh.

“Remember that the brain’s automatic response is not always logical. Sometimes the loudest voice is actually the most illogical. And if you listen to it, it can cause you to spiral.”

“I've been thinking about that one, doc. I’ve been trying. To stop the spiral.” That’s one of the biggest challenges for him. To not let flashes of dark moments spiral into a category five hurricane. To take back his agency over his thoughts.  

“Good. How is it going?” He blows out a long breath, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Not so great. For a long time, my automatic thoughts,” he puts up air quotes around the phrase, “My instincts, they saved my life. Saved other guys lives in the med tent. So it's kinda hard to rewrite that pathway.” A lot of the time, he couldn't help but feel like ordinary decisions still meant life or death. So much anxiety had built up inside him that it felt like if he chose the wrong thing at the grocery store a bomb would explode.

“You’re not at war anymore though, Jack. Letting yourself enjoy this woman’s presence in your life won’t get anyone killed.” 

“Yeah.” Again, he’s quiet, remembering. 

“Part of processing is not letting past trauma control the now. Remember, things can be different this time. You’re encountering a whole different set of challenges in the present that don’t always require the tools of the past.”

“My shrink, always so wise,” Jack jokes.

“I asked you not to call me that,” she scolds him.

“Sorry, got a lot I'm working on at the moment.”

This gets his therapist to crack a smile, glancing down at her watch. “Time to wrap up. Keep working at that– making the choice to challenge your automatic thoughts. What's important is that you try to recognize them as they pop up and inquire as to why you may think that it’s true. It takes time and repetition, but you’ll get there. You’re doing well, really.” 

“Thanks, doc.”

“And don't forget your homework. To do something out during the daytime. Not errands or the gym, but something you’ll have fun doing.”  Jack rolls his eyes. She must really think I'm a snooze fest, he thinks.

“I know you can have fun, Jack. You’re human, just like the rest of us.” Sometimes he felt like a cyborg forged for war that would never be wired for civilian life ever again. But that’s all he was now, a civilian. A doctor. Not a cyborg, just a man. Through the sludge of his past– all that he’s seen and felt– what he has to do now is figure out how to live again. Too many years have passed him by in a haze.

“Whatever you say doc.” He does a loose salute with his fingers as he gets up from his chair to exit her office. “See ya next week.”

“See you then,” she responds, scribbling down notes from the session as he steps out the door.

“Oh!” she yells after him. “And I’ll give you extra credit if the fun involves this woman from work.” 

Jack only scoffed in response, then blushed in the elevator all the way back down to the lobby.  

————

Driving from his therapist’s office to the pit, he brainstormed what he could do for his “daylight assignment”. Just the thought of it was setting him on edge. All of the people and noises and atrocities that happen while everyone is awake. He’d do whatever this is in the day time, sure. But firmly in the afternoon so that the comfort of night would come soon enough and greet him, he decided. 

He wants it at his own house too, in his own space, to help dull the anxiety inside him. That would have to mean inviting people over. At least it would be people he chooses to invite, another element he could control. Robby, Dana, Shen, Ellis— they knew Jack, didn't expect too much from him. 

Then there was you. You who had boundless empathy for any patient that walked in the door and extensive knowledge of any resources that could help them. He admired your commitment to the patients and their families, in supporting people outside of just their medical needs. And of course, you radiate beauty like a goddamn emergency department Snow White. 

Your presence simply made Jack feel at ease, and in a place like the Pitt that was a very welcome feeling. But as much as he craved it, Jack was not used to feeling at ease. Eventually, his mind would rebel and tell him to retreat; that the peace was too good to be true. He couldn’t let himself have this. It was too risky. He had to resist.

Automatic thought! He warned himself. Ugh. Jack was tired. Tired of having to be so vigilant even inside his own head. Tired of whatever devil was on his shoulder always whispering in his ear. No, not whispering. Yelling. His therapist was right, the thoughts were loud. What had she said? Inquire why you think these thoughts may be true, he recalls. 

Why does he think he has to resist? Because everything good he’s ever had falls apart. Usually he was the one who ripped it apart. Never on purpose, just through being who he was, who life and war had made him.

Things could be different this time, Jack reminds himself, drumming his thumbs over the steering wheel. He sighs deeply, groans.

As much as he was spooked by the revelation that he couldn't contain his desire for you so well anymore, he was also enflamed by it. He wanted an angel on his shoulder. He wanted you. 

The voice inside of him saying that wasn’t harshly yelling, there were no flashing lights or sirens. It was steady, calm, all encompassing. And pure warmth. Maybe that’s how he can tell it's the right voice to listen to. 

Fuck it. He decided. I’m gonna throw a party and she’s gonna be the goddamn guest of honor. 

[randomshyperson]

don't run away without me - wanda maximoff oneshots

summary: Wanda's neglect of everything around her, and constant abuse of the darkhold reaches a breaking point - you can't go on like this anymore. | warnings: mainly angst, hurt/comfort, they fight and actually resolve things through dialogue (crazy ik), mutual pining, fluff by the end (you may consider the canon of agatha all along for the "open" ending) | words: 2.588k

a/n-> A month ago i think @iguirisu request an angst one shot, and here it is, i randomly had inspiration for it today at work hope you like; I actually do miss writing about Wanda's depression state, or dark hold influence era.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

The smell of coffee made you sigh and relax a little.

Natasha smiled affectionately - despite the obvious tiredness and sadness that your gaze hid, it was good to see you a little, even if minimally, more cheerful.

She took her place in the armchair, crossing her legs. In her hand, a hot cup of tea. You, on the other hand, left yours on the table, your fingers nervous.

"You took a while to visit, Y/N." Nat began, without waiting for you to make any excuse, she added; "I was hoping Wanda would come with you."

You look down, a sad laugh escaping you. "Yeah, I asked her to." You mumble, unable to hide your annoyance. “"Things have been... tricky. Ever since Westview. I thought we were doing well, as much as possible, but Wanda..." You sigh, forcing a smile at Nat. "She's been shouting me out."

Natasha takes a sip of her tea before commenting. "She knows none of us hold a grudge against Westview, right? Even though it's been, well, fucked up." 

You laugh weakly at the comment, nodding. You take a sip of your drink too, enjoying the the taste of it. 

Nat stretches out her legs and rests them on the coffee table. "Maybe I should visit." 

You shake your head. "Better not, Nat." You say, and this surprises the redhead a little. You sigh. "It's her magic. She's been restless, and Wanda, well, she gets really nervous sometimes. I tried to talk to her about contacting that witch we faced in Westview, you know? Agatha Harkness. But she won't give in. And that damn book too. I may not be a witch, but I can sense something's wrong." 

The redhead sighs. "Damn, Y/N, that sounds like... a lot." 

You smile weakly. "Yeah, I know. But thanks for having me here, Nat. I guess I needed to get out of that cabin for a bit, to clear my head." 

She shakes her head gently. "Please don't mention it. I think everything would be easier if we all still lived together in the compound. We'd end up making too much noise for Wanda to get stuck in books." Her joke makes you smile, a little nostalgic. Natasha looks at you curiously. "Are you sure you don't want me to visit? We can just, I don't know, talk. Spend some time together. I feel like I haven't seen you guys in... forever."

You smile sadly, looking away at the apartment. It’s exactly how you remember it, the same way Natasha welcomed you from Shield, a safe home for a defected black widow.

“It’s okay, this helps a lot.” You lean back against the couch, resting your back. “Can we talk about something else? Anything. Even if it’s a fantasy.”

She chuckled in confusion. "I don't understand, Y/N."

You sigh sadly. "I just miss you so much, Nat." 

She frowns, adjusting her posture to move closer, taking the seat next to you. "I'm right here, sweetheart." She says, reaching for your hand. You smile, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. 

You lean in to hug her, and for a moment, the feeling is just as you remembered. But it doesn't last long, and with a sigh, you wake up. 

The covers of your bed are tightly wrapped around you, but the cabin is cold and they do little to keep you warm. It's not just the weather, you know. Wanda is reading again, and the darkhold always makes sure that the cold feeling never goes away, even when you turn on the fireplace and sit on the rug in front of it.

You get up without rushing, there's nothing to rush about. You go to the bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, but maintain a relaxed appearance of someone who just woke up, which in the past Wanda would comment on how charming you are - but now, she doesn't even look up from her book when you leave the room.

You're not surprised that there's no coffee; if you don't make it, Wanda will just go on without eating, for hours and hours until her body protests with exhaustion.

It's not healthy, you can insist. But she won't give more than a grumble in return.

This morning you prepare pancakes, and some coffee. There are freshly picked apples that manage to bring a small smile to your face. You think it will be like any other morning, quiet and lonely, but Wanda's physical form appears to sit at the table with you.

"Hi, Y/N." It's almost painful actually. The distance and indifference have grown to the point that greeting you in the morning is almost like talking to a stranger.

Your back tenses before you glance at her from the corner of your eye and murmur a good morning, your attention returning to the preparation of the coffee.

"You woke up late." Your hand hesitates in cracking the eggs, but only for half a second. Wanda sighs. "I thought you weren't going to do that anymore." 

You place the eggs on the tray, and move to find the flour. Your back is to Wanda. "I don't know what you're talking about." You mumble disinterestedly. 

She laughs, humorless. "Come on, you were the one giving speeches about how wrong and dangerous that was, and now you're doing it almost every night." 

You set the bowl down on the table with a little more force than necessary. "What is it now, Wanda?" You demand, irritated but more importantly, upset. Days goes by with Wanda not paying a single glance at you, and now she’s demanding answers. "Just say what you mean." 

She rolls her eyes, and you swallow hard. She can be so… mean. Like Wanda never was. But then again, ever since Westview, and especially since the Darkhold, you've been discovering sides of her that you've never seen. You tried to stay positive about it, because well, relationships are hard. But it was all extremely tiring.

"I just think it's a little funny, when I asked to talk to my boys, you said it was wrong. That I was abusing your power, that it was dangerous to mess with these things, that speech about natural law and the veil of the dead, or whatever nonsense you made up."

"I didn't make it up-"

She interrupts you: "But when it's about you visiting Natasha every night, then it's okay?"

You laugh humorlessly. "Because it's me! Because I hold the connection, because it's my power! I've explained to you this a hundred times, but you don't want to accept it." She huffs, standing up, ready to leave the room, the conversation, and that makes you laugh again. "Go ahead, just run away again." 

She looks at you with irritation: "Me? You're the one who's running away, Y/N! Every night to visit our dead friend!" 

You have to laugh because honestly this has to be a joke. Wanda swallows hard at the sound. "Wanda, you're not even here." You gesture to the other room where her astral projection is reading the darkhold, and she turns her face away, almost embarrassed. You run a hand over yours, sighing. Exhausted. "This is all bullshit. I don't even know what I'm doing here."

You explode. "She talks to me!" And this takes Wanda by surprise, she looks at you with a frown, and you hold back the tears that threaten to fall. "A change of scenery for a change. "

"I talk to you." 

She looks at you as if you've been slapped, in a way, you're almost happy to have some reaction.

"You said you didn't want to leave me alone."

You frown, and hold her gaze, even though you can't hold back the tears anymore. "And in return, you barely look at me."

"Y/N, that's not true. We were ready to have breakfast-" She tries to get closer, to touch you, but you pull away, laughing humorlessly, gesturing nervously to the kitchen.

"Breakfast? Wanda, none of this is real!" You scoff, gesturing around. "This farm, the food, even the fucking animals, you created everything with your magic. All of this is a lie."

"Don't say that."

But you get closer, breathless with emotion, your hands find her face, and Wanda resists the urge to lean into the touch, her gaze conflicted as if she were also resisting something else, something stronger and deeper.

"I'm real, Wanda. And I'm right here. Begging you to let me in." You confess, and some of her certainty breaks. "But you push me away. And ignore me for days, limiting me to a ghost of you." 

She touches your forearms. "I know you don't like it, but astral projection allows me to study without leaving you alone and-" She tries, but you shake your head, cutting her off. 

"Enough, I don't want to hear the same excuses all over again." You walk away, a sad smile on your face. "I think I should just go."

Wanda tries to contain her emotion, but she's crying the next minute. "If that's what you want, I won't stop you." 

You laugh sadly. "What I want. Funny." You retort, walking around her to pack, and Wanda swallows hard. It takes a moment, but she finally follows you to the room, where you search for the few belongings you brought, which weren't fabrications of chaos magic. She doesn't even realize she's forced back her astral projection until she sees the darhold floating alone, almost begging to be read again.

"So that 's it? Are you really just going to leave me alone?" 

You don't look at her. "Clearly that's what you want, Wanda. Enjoy your reading." 

But she stands in front of the door, blocking your way. You sigh impatiently, but she holds her position. "And what do you want?" 

You hesitate, and Wanda tilts her head, her eyes turning red. You snort in protest at the attempt of mind reading. "Unbelievable." You mumble in disappointment, but there's a bump when you try to cross because Wanda won't step aside. "Come on, you said you wouldn't stop me." 

"Why did you come with me in the first place?" She demands to know then, her gaze almost pleading, and that makes you hesitate, take a step back. 

"Wanda." 

"Tell me." She says, and you swallow hard, looking away at the floor. She laughs humorlessly. "Fine, and then you say I don't talk to you." 

She steps aside, turning her back to you to walk down the hallway again, and you sigh, thinking fuck it. Things can't get any worse than they are now. 

"I'm in love with you."

It's the first time you've said it out loud, admitted it to yourself, actually. Wanda frowns at you, and then laughs briefly and incredulously.

"Right." She mumbles, and you take a step toward her.

"I'm serious."

Wanda doesn't flinch. "Well, I don't believe you."

It's your turn to frown, confused and a little embarrassed, as you watch Wanda sigh and walk over to the couch, where she sits. You sigh too before entering the living room again, the bag of clothes loosely in your hand. "What are you talking about? What do you mean you don't believe? This is just a fact, not something to argue about."

But the redhead shakes her head. "That's ridiculous, Y/N. You're not in love with me." You open your mouth to protest, but she keeps talking. "First of all, you never said anything. You didn't even think." She looks at you with a certain certainty that makes you swallow hard. That nosy witch and that bad habit of looking into people's minds. "Second, you're.. off limits. You're Nat' s. You always have been and always will. I mean you visit her even after death now." 

You grimace, and then you finally understand what Wanda is really saying. "Wanda, I," You begin, dropping your backpack on one of the armchairs and approaching where she is, kneeling down to her level. "Natasha and I broke up during the blip. I told you that. We became friends, just friends, over time. I’ve been visiting her because I was feeling lonely, and I missed having a friend to talk to." Wanda looks away, and you try to follow her gaze, your hand reaching for hers in your lap. "And yes, about the first thing, you're right. I'd never thought about it. It took me a while to understand, to realize. I guess I was trying to protect myself." 

She looks at you with some uncertainty. "From me?" 

You laugh shortly, shaking your head immediately. "Oh, no, Wanda, not from you." You clarify quickly. "I was afraid of getting my heart broken, you know? You had someone. And well, Natasha was my first love. And it was mutual. I didn't know how to deal with rejection, with the possibility of well, of living through this right now. It's been hard, but I'll survive." 

But Wanda swallows hard, her cheeks gaining a new color. "But I... didn't reject you."

You laugh awkwardly. "It's okay, I don't need you to let me down slowly, the shock and silence are enough for me to get the message." You joke, but when you make a move to stand up, Wanda tightens her grip on your hand, keeping you in place.

"You just caught me by surprise." She murmurs and it's the only thing she says before advancing on you, a firm kiss on your lips. She barely lets you get used to the feeling - pulling away immediately, her brow furrowed in conflict. "Fuck, don't show me that."

"I didn't do anything-"

"It's not you!" She snaps, her eyes red. Wanda suddenly becomes agitated, standing up, her hands on her head for a moment. You worry, and when you try to touch her, she suddenly grabs you, her arms around you, her face hidden in your chest. She takes a deep breath, as if trying to wake herself up to this moment. "Please, don't leave me alone with it."

You understand, the book, which continues to vibrate in the next room, waiting, demanding a reader.

One of your hands goes to Wanda's head, and the other to her back, trying to calm her down.

"I'll stay with you, Wands." You say, swallowing hard afterwards. "But on one condition." She breaks the hug only to look at you. You sigh. "We'll ask for help."

"What? No-"

"I'm serious." You interrupt. "If not Agatha Harkness, it will be someone from Kamar Taj, like Doctor Strange. You need help, Wanda. You don't sleep, you barely eat. You're paranoid and restless. You're hurting yourself, and I'm not going to stand by and watch."

Wanda sighs tiredly, and buries her face in your chest again, nodding softly. Though the next moment, she mumbles, “Strange won’t help. Sorcerers don’t… help witches.”

You kiss the top of her head. “Agatha Harkness then.”

The redhead groans in protest. "I don't trust her." But you hug her a little tighter.

"I know, darling, me either." You whisper. "But who knows what Westview has in store for us?"

Wanda hides her warm face deeper inside the hug. "I like it when you call me that."

It's your turn to blush. "Lucky for you, I have an endless list of pet names for you, Miss Magic Fingers." She giggles, trying to tickle you so you'll let her go, but the break only makes you laugh and shower her face with kisses.

[ddlydevotion]

Grace and Bo Chow both being infatuated with you 💌 ₊˚⊹⋆

a/n: I hope you guys enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing this! This post contains nsfw content/slightly obsessive behavior so proceed with caution. This is also quite long so I apologize for that. Look out for a part two!

currently listening to: Cupid by Sam Cooke

You met Bo first. You applied for a job at the shop and proved yourself to be incredibly dependable. He allowed you to count the money in the register, keep logs of what was going in & out of the store, and take care of client records and accounts. The two of you had a purely professional relationship, but if a professional relationship consisted of longing glances, lingering touches, and endearing nicknames.

You knew he was married, the golden band around his ring finger didn't let you forget the fact that he was. You felt horrible for even entertaining the nicknames and the close contact he kept with you, but you considered yourself to be on the safe side of things. As long as the two of you kept the touchiness to a minimum and didn't take your affection for one another to the bedroom, everything was fine.

His wife, Grace, tended to their shared store on the white side of town. She'd occasionally pop into the store to check in on Bo & their daughter, making sure she completed her tasks for the day. Afterwards, she'd never fail to make her way up to you and ask about your day.

"How are ye doin? Bo been treatin' you well?"

"You're doin' a good job around 'ere, girl. We gotta keep you here, don't want the other stores to try an' take ye from us."

Bo would affirm her praise by nodding his head and adding in his own little two cents. Grace wouldn't shy away from rubbing your arm or placing a delicate finger underneath your chin while saying "you're a real pretty girl, y'know that?". Her physical touch could be disguised as something playful and sweet, something between two women that were fond of one another. But, as the two of them made eye contact over your head they knew that what they had in store for you was anything but playful.

The playful banter between the three of you continued for weeks after that. You didn't expect anything more to blossom from your friendship with the married couple, but the clueless cloud you had over your head was quickly blown away one night. It was usual for them to invite you over to have dinner at their shared home. It was a common occurrence that even Lisa looked forward to as you were never anything but kind to her.

If you try to tell them that you wouldn't be able to make it due to a packed schedule, they'd do everything in their power to convince you to show anyway.

"Oh, we promise we won't keep you long. C'mon ya could just come on over for some dinner and make your way home after that. promise."

"awe are ya sure? Lisa was really lookin' forward to seeing ya again."

Sure, it was common for them to invite you over for dinner. However, it wasn't all too common for them to invite you into their bedroom. They'd usually keep you past midnight to have conversation going in the kitchen, but Bo offered to move the late night ritual into their bedroom. The conversation went on as normal and the wine in your glass disappeared by the minute. You sat with your legs crossed on their wooden-framed bed, the couple sat right in front of you. Bo's hand made a home for itself on the skin of your thigh that peaked from underneath your dress, he rarely ever showed such explicit affection like this. You expected Grace to become angry with the two of you, rightfully so, and have the night come to an end. Instead, she moved towards you and swept your hair out of your face with those delicate fingers of hers you've come to admire.

"I don't think ya know just how pretty ya are. I mean, jus' look at that face, baby. You just might be the prettiest damn thing I've ever seen." Bo's hand moved towards the inside of your thigh and a small smile stretched across his lips. "s'true, sweetheart", both of his hands eventually moved towards the inside of your thighs, spreading you open for him, Grace shuffling behind you before positioning your head to lay on her lap.

The night ended with your legs curved around Bo's slender waist as he pumped his cock into you, the coarse hair at the base of his cock stimulating your pulsing clit once he finally bottomed out. Grace kept herself busy, too. She rubbed your throbbing clit with her middle & ring finger, occasionally cradling your flushed cheeks and encouraging you to "take that cock, baby. s'so big, ain't it? I know, I know", shushing your whines and cooing at your fucked out expression. She couldn’t help but smile when you let out a surprised squeal at the feeling of her fingers tweaking and pinching your sensitive nipples.

Your relationship with the Chow's was never made public to the town, I mean, why would it be? Everyone in your close circle knew that the three of you were quite the close bunch of friends, but they didn't know the rest of it.

I can definitely see the both of them being possessive over you. They could see you talking with a friend of yours outside of the store and immediately interrogate you about it.

"She's just a good friend of mine! What's this all about?"

"Y'know damn well what this is all about. She looked like she was imaginin' what ya looked like without your clothes on."

It'd make them inexplicably upset to see you in a relationship with anyone that isn't them. They'd never allow you to do so without putting up a fight, though. It'd be foolish for you to think they'd let you go so easily. Even if you did get romantically involved with anyone else, you'd never be truly satisfied. Grace and Bo raised your standards to the damn moon and it'd be impossible for anyone to try and fill their shoes. Whenever your partner did anything wrong, you couldn't help but think "they'd never do that to me."

Helping Grace whenever she's working on a sign for a client. She doesn't hold back on sharing just how proud she is of you when you finish up a paint job.

Sharing many passion filled nights with the couple at the Juke Joint. You spend so much time sat at the bar without ordering anything just to talk to Grace. Bo pulls you in to dance with him and no one around bats an eye. What's wrong with two friends sharing a dance together? However, the way his glistening eyes gaze into yours with such intense passion behind them is anything but platonic.

It's incredibly easy for you and Grace to hide the true nature of your relationship. Nobody suspects anything even when her arm is firmly wrapped around your waist, or when her lips graze your cheek in a sweet peck. That's just how good friends celebrate one another.

They always find themselves on your front porch with gifts and they hardly ever show up empty handed. The gifts range from sundresses perfect for the southern heat, pastries they know you'll enjoy, savory treats the both of them worked on.

You're constantly heading over to their home and being convinced to stay the night by the sweet-talking couple. They don't entertain the possibility of you staying in a spare room, they want you to make yourself familiar & comfortable with their bedroom. Their spare room is honestly quite useful in having visitors believe that's where you stay, assisting in avoiding any questions about the true nature of your 'friendship'.

Bo wraps himself around your body like a koala and Grace curls herself into a fetal position in front of you, relishing in the feeling of your warm arms around her.

taglist: @officialthrad @bochowswife @thegr33nc0met @missroro @mjwhis @foreid let me know if you'd like to be added!

[maxtalksalarmclocks]

Spotlight: Panasonic RC-60

So here's a brief story.

When I set up this blog, I searched "alarm clocks" on Tumblr and was a little disappointed to see very few results. (At least several of which were explicit, because...it's Tumblr.)

But I did see the alarm clock I'm reblogging now, the Panasonic RC-60! It's cool, right? It's got fun colors, and angled fonts, and triangular buttons, including a snooze "doze" button that looks like the clock's top-right corner was chopped off. Neat! The 80s-ness reminds me of the GE P'Jammer.

I didn't reblog the clock at the time, because I didn't have more to say about it. But then my wonderful friend @cytochrome-sea sent this very same Tumblr post my way, asking for my feedback! And that inspired me to do a Google search of this clock...where I discovered two delightful things that you wouldn't know about this clock from the original post!

I will share them with you now.

Delightful thing #1:

There is a marble-look version:

As an alarm clock expert, it is my professional opinion that it's really weird for alarm clocks to look like they're made out of marble. You don't see that every day!

There's also a black model. I'd say it's for people who hate fun, but it's actually secretly my favorite version... (Don't tell anyone...)

So that's delightful thing #1. Now for...

Delightful thing #2:

You see that big cutout on the back-left corner of the clock, in the photos above?

The clock can sit on that cutout instead.

Look:

This is off the rails. There are many alarm clocks that move around between different positions. I've done a whole post on such clocks. But usually it's as a means of controlling the clock.

With this clock? There's zero purpose for the positions besides it looking cool! I love how in both the "cube" and "diamond" positions, as I'm calling them, different parts of the clock are upright or askew. Like, with the cube position, the display and buttons are upright, but the doze button and the labels around the display are not. Then with the diamond position, the doze button and the labels around the display are upright, but now the display and buttons are not!

I want to be the kind of human being who wakes up every morning and decides, based on how I'm feeling, if it's a "cube" or a "diamond" kind of day, and rotates my Panasonic RC-60 accordingly.

Something about the diamond/gemstone shape (and maybe also the marble look, come to think of it) made me think of my favorite show, Steven Universe, and I think if Steven had this clock, he too is the kind of person who would very deliberately rotate it each morning to set the tone for the day.

Additional photos:

It's neat that the way this clock is designed, the most essential controls (alarm stop, sleep timer, snooze, and alarm/radio on/off) are always accessible, and then more rarely used controls (time set, brightness, and AM/FM) are hidden on the back. Volume and tuning are relatively accessible on the sides.

That's all!

Thanks for letting me share the hidden sides (get it?) and hidden facets (get it?) of this one-of-a-kind alarm clock! See you soon!

Image credits:

eBay, eBay, Retrospekt, Retrospekt

Panasonic RC-60 Alarm Clock

[ordinary-barbie]

warm enough for you outside, baby (tell me if it's warm enough here for you)

summary: Rafe is sick of watching you hopelessly pine for another guy, so he decides to take matters into his own hands.

word count: 2.2k

tags: mean!rafe, rafe is lowkey jealous, unrequited love, enemies (sort of) to lovers, pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart), au where jj is a kook, jj x kiara mentions, everyone is about 21 here, unprotected p in v, oral (fem receiving), fingering, mention of reader having periods, insecure!reader, creampie

note: title comes from Drew Barrymore by SZA!

Smut incoming under the cut—18+ only! Minors DNI!

You honestly made Rafe sick.

Every party, it was the same shit: you'd follow Jackson Generette like a puppy, lapping up any crumbs of attention he gave you. Rafe thought things would be different once JJ started dating Kiara Carrera, but somehow, you got even worse. You'd show up to parties with friends but send him longing looks the entire time, as if Generette could read your mind and run into your arms.

Rafe clenched his jaw as he watched you watching JJ and Kiara. The two of them were cuddled on the couch, Kiara's head thrown back in laughter as JJ whispered something into her ear. Did you seriously not see how pathetic it was to pine over someone interested in somebody else?

Rafe got up, ignoring the eager looks other Kook girls were sending him, and sidled up to you. You had absconded to an abandoned living room corner, gripping a cup of punch in your hand as you stared longingly at your crush and his girlfriend.

"You know he's never gonna look at you like that, right?" Rafe blurted, startling you. You turned to Rafe, frowning.

"You don't know what you're talking about," you muttered, trying to keep your composure.

Rafe snorted. "Princess, come on. You've been giving him the same 'fuck me' puppy dog eyes since high school. Just face it—he's not into you."

You huffed, scowling at Rafe. "You're such an asshole."

"So I've been told," Rafe replied, smirking at you.

"I honestly don't know why I can't get over him," you admitted, your lip wobbling. "He's just so...nice. And funny. It hurts that he only sees me as a friend."

Rafe couldn't help but feel a little bad for you, but a bigger part of him was so done with the moping over fucking Generette of all people. Not like he was doing the same towards you, yearning from afar. That was totally different, obviously.

"Well, you know what they say—the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else," Rafe casually replied, his grin turning downright lecherous. You gulped, that smile sending a bolt of lightning straight to your core.

You rolled your eyes. "What are you even talking about, Cameron?"

Rafe chuckled. "I mean, why waste your time simping over Generette when you have other options?"

You froze, not knowing what to say. Was Rafe Cameron, of all people, offering to hook up with you?

"If this is some weird pity fuck, you can forget it," you snapped. "I don't need you feeling sorry for me."

Rafe's smile grew lopsided. "Is it really that unbelievable that I would want to hook up with you, princess?"

You shrugged, fixing Rafe with a deadpan stare. "A little bit, yeah."

Rafe tsked at you, shaking his head. "You've been spending so much time making goo-goo eyes at him that you can't even see what's right in front of you, huh?"

He moved closer to you, brushing his lips against your ear. "Let me make you feel good," he murmured.

Your heart was racing. You got a whiff of his scent—an earthy, musky scent that made you want to bury your head in the side of his neck and inhale. You thought Rafe was cute—he may be a bit of a prick, but you had eyes, after all—but never would've imagined talking to him, let alone being with him in that way.

Fuck it. The boy you'd been crushing on since ninth grade would never return your affections, and at least Rafe was showing you some interest. You quickly downed your punch, letting the red solo cup drop to the ground with a thud.

"Make me feel good then," you said breathily, staring deeply into Rafe's eyes.

Rafe let out a low groan. "You're fuckin' killing me, sweetheart," he mumbled, before grabbing your hand and quickly leading you up the stairs of whatever Kook's house this was.

-

Rafe found a random room and kicked the door open before quickly locking it behind you. You wanted to look at the decor, but Rafe's lips were on yours before you could scope out the place. You supposed it didn't matter anyway, since Rafe would have you buried into the mattress soon enough.

You looped your arms around Rafe's neck, timidly kissing him back. You hadn't had much kissing experience besides the odd game of Truth or Dare or Seven Minutes in Heaven at a party, so you were a tad nervous. But then Rafe lightly bit your lip, enjoying your soft moan before sliding his tongue inside, and you found yourself passionately kissing him back.

"Take this off. Now," Rafe commanded, tugging at the hem of your blue sundress. You readily obliged, stripping down to just your underwear.

Rafe looked at you hungrily, eyeing your chest. "Fuckin perfect," he rasped. "Can't believe you've been hiding these tits from me."

He easily picked you up and threw you on the bed, shedding himself of his clothes save for his Calvin Klein boxers. Rafe climbed on top of you, burying his face in your chest and nipping at your breasts. You whimpered, which seemed to spur him on more as he soothed the bites with kisses.

He continued leaving a trail of kisses down your body until he reached your thighs. "Open up for me, princess," he murmured, running his fingers down your legs.

You tried to protest. "Rafe, I haven't shaved—"

"I don't give a shit. Lemme eat you out," Rafe demanded, his pupils blown out with lust.

You complied, spreading your legs open for Rafe. He pushed your panties to the side easily settled into his new position between your thighs, diving into your cunt like a starved man. He wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking it with a fervor that made you loudly gasp, bucking your hips.

"You're not going anywhere, sweetheart—you taste too fuckin good," Rafe mumbled, pinning your hips down with both hands. He flattened his tongue, lapping at your folds before lazily licking your clit. You whined, feeling a white-hot pressure down in your gut.

You felt Rafe's smirk against your inner thighs. "Gonna cum for me already?"

"Uh huh," you mumbled, too caught up in your pleasure to form a coherent response.

Rafe slid one of his hands down to your clit, pressing down on it and rubbing circles on it with your thumb. You moaned, arching your back off the bed and clenching your thighs around Rafe's head as you came undone for him.

Rafe removed himself from your cunt and sat back, licking his lips. "Goddamn, baby. Generette is a fucking moron to miss out on this."

You looked up at Rafe, your eyes instantly drawn to the straining erection in his black briefs. "See something you like?" he asked cockily.

Your cheeks grew warm. "I mean—I guess so," you bashfully replied

Rafe chuckled lowly. "You're so shy, princess. It's adorable."

You rolled your eyes. "Just—are you gonna fuck me or what?" you grumbled, your core throbbing with pent-up frustration.

Rafe's grin was devilish. "All you had to do was ask, baby."

He tossed his briefs to the side, revealing his thick, throbbing cock, its tip flushed an angry red. Your mouth went dry as you gaped at Rafe, just in awe of how a dick could be so...pretty.

"Fuck, I gotta see where Chase keeps the condoms," Rafe said, dragging a hand over his face.

"No need—I'm on the pill," you said, smiling shyly.

"Oh shit, are you actually getting some? Maybe you're more of a freak than I thought," Rafe teased, his dick twitching at your confession.

"It's to help regulate my periods, you perv," you said sharply. "Unfortunately, I'm still a sad little virgin."

Rafe's cheeks turned pink. "'m sorry, I didn't mean to come off like an asshole," he mumbled, sounding contrite.

"I just always imagined he'd be my first. That's pathetic, I know," you admitted, laughing bitterly. "When we were, like, fifteen, he and I made this dumb pact that if we were both still virgins by the time we graduated, then we'd sleep together. Obviously, that didn't happen."

Rafe's jaw ticked. He'd never been Generette's biggest fan, but you'd given him even more reasons to dislike the guy. You were sweet and sarcastic and beautiful—how could he not see this? How could he casually offer to take your virginity, not realizing that you'd given your entire heart to him?

"Gonna fuck you so good, you forget his name," Rafe growled, pushing himself inside of you. You moaned, enjoying the feeling of his cock inside you, stretching you out.

Rafe began thrusting into you, brushing up against your clit with his tip and setting every nerve in your body alight. "Fuck, Rafe—feels so good," you gasped.

Rafe lifted up one of your legs and put it atop his shoulder, allowing himself to plow even deeper into you. You mewled, feeling his tip all the way in your cervix. Your body tingled, legs trembling, and you came apart for Rafe again, creaming all over his cock.

Rafe pulled out, panting, his eyes fiery with desire. "Turn around for me and show me that ass," he ordered. You rolled over on your stomach and he hummed appreciatively, smacking your butt. "Fuck. You're like a work of art."

Your cheeks grew warm again; you were still unused to being desired like this. In the past, JJ had told you you looked nice, and you'd held on to those casual comments like they were love letters. But Rafe? He gazed at you as if you were Aphrodite, ready and willing to worship at the goddess's altar. You knew you didn't need a guy's validation, but damn if Rafe didn't make you feel beautiful right now.

Rafe slid back into you, fucking you faster, and grunted when your pussy tightened around him. "You're so fuckin tight and wet for me, princess. i love this sweet little pussy."

Rafe gripped your hips, his cock throbbing inside of you. "Gonna cum," he warned. "You ready for me to fill you up, baby?"

You clenched around him again, and Rafe chuckled. "Oh, you like that, yeah? Such a good girl for me."

Rafe let out another grunt as he released inside of you, ropes of his hot cum filling your pussy. Rafe pulled out slowly, admiring the way his creampie was leaking out of you.

You and Rafe lay next to each other, your chests heaving as you recovered. "Hey—thanks," you shyly said to him.

"For what?" Rafe asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to his chest.

"For the sex, of course," you joked, causing Rafe to snort. "But also for breaking that spell over me. I wasted so much time pining over someone who never saw me as more than someone to play Mario Kart with."

Rafe kissed your collarbone. "He's an idiot," he mumbled. "But I'm actually glad. Because it meant I finally got to do this."

You laughed, beaming at Rafe. "Rafe Cameron. Do you have a crush on me?"

Rafe lifted his head up, his ears flushing bright red. "Shut up. Maybe I do, alright? It's not a big deal."

You looked at Rafe fondly. "You're kinda cute. I guess I'll keep you around."

Rafe lazily smirked at you. "I'm all yours, baby."

You got up to clean yourself, but Rafe grabbed you by the waist. "Where d'ya think you're going, huh?"

"Gonna clean off all this cum, thanks to you," you quipped.

Rafe’s mouth curled into a smug grin. “Nah, put on your panties and keep it inside of you for the rest of the night. Want you to remember who you belong to.”

You shivered, weirdly loving his possessiveness right now. You got off the bed and pulled your underwear back on, moaning a little at his sticky cum in your panties. The thought of walking around all night, still stuffed with his load, made your pussy throb.

“Now, cmon,” Rafe said, jumping to his feet and putting his clothes back on. “Get dressed—there’s a whole party out there that we’re missing.”

[everythingspokenfor]

All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI.

You have a dragon cock dildo, a ginormous, black, bumpy toy, with thick ridges and prominent veins, it's a gift, from yourself.

It stays hidden in the depths of your closet, never sees the light of the day, unless you have your girl friends over and you pull it out for shits and giggles.

Even then, it's not necessarily a sex toy but perhaps a piece of decor, only if your were bold enough you would actually display it.

If you were being honest, you had forgotten about it, until today, until this very moment, until this very text.

Shouto: Is this what I think it is? *Image* 3:34pm

You stare in utter shock, as your crush cradles your 16 inches long dragon cock dildo, in his arms, his cheek smushed slightly against the flared tip of the dildo, one arm wrapped around it, the other holding the inflated base.

You rush home, sick to your stomach, at the verge of throwing up, there goes my chance of even having a friendship with him.

Thousand thoughts race through your mind, of all the things he would say to your face, look at you in disgust as he rushes out of your apartment, your panic increase when you think him telling others why he broke of the friendship, she had a dragon cock dildo, ew.

The keys jingle loudly, along with the thumping of your rapid heartbeat, in the otherwise empty hallway.

You open the door abruptly, the image of utterly disgusted and disappointed Shouto painted in your vision, you wheeze out slightly, heaving as you try to catch your breath.

The walk to the living room is dreadful, you turn sharply, hoping that fate isn't cruel, hoping that he is understan-

"Oh! You are home early." Shouto tilts his head in question, as he takes in your disheveled look, "Was the bus too crowded?" He queried, as he stood up to hover around you.

His calmness scared you a little, shouldn't he have left by now, "I was just excited to be home, rushed here as soon as I got off." You mumbled sheepishly, hands clammy as you moved to put your bag away

"Here, let me." Shouto reacts immediately, thick fingers coming to grab the straps of your bag, placing it on the couch beside you, before reaching for your coat, he helps you take it off, "I ordered food, I was going to cook but that wouldn't go well."

You smile at him, as much as you want to move on and pretend that image didn't exist, your brain doesn't allow it, curiosity gets the best of you, as you ask him, "Umm Sho, that picture you send me-"

He ears turn red immediately,"I put flowers in it, if that's alright."

What. The fuck.

"What vase, Sho?"

"The one in the photo, the opening was really small, so I could only fit in two stems." Shouto moves into the kitchen, gesturing for you to follow him. You turn to look where he is looking and-

Lo and behold, a rose and what seemed like a daffodil was poking out of the tip of the toy, their stems slithered into the opening, the toy itself was placed at the very centre of your small dining table.

"It's pretty, isn't it?" Shouto admires his own work, arms folded behind himself as he looks at his own masterpiece. "If you don't mind we should keep this here, I'll bring new flowers for it too."

Your eye twitches a little, it's difficult to tell if this is better or worse than what you initially thought, "It's pretty... but it's a bit dull too, so I think we should get a prettier vase for the dining table."

You hope that is convincing enough, that he'll let go of the topic and you'll yoink that thing and shove it your closet again.

"You are right, it is a bit dark for the dining room, I'll look for different variant soon." He concludes, you let out a sigh of relief.

"You can do that, I'll go and take a quick shower before dinner," You tell him over your shoulder, moving to grab that thing off the table and walking towards your room.

To Bakubestie: Can your parents re-design this vase with brighter colours? *image* 5:15pm

From Bakubestie: IS THAT A FUCKING DILDO ICYTHOT??!??! 5:16pm

What.

Dividers by: @diviniyae 💖✨

[saintshadow]

ALCHEMICAL GOLD:

HOW TO TRANSFORM UR CURRENT SITUATION

↳ a/n: I hope you all enjoy this reading, I’m really trying to work on having more cohesive and attractive layouts for my readings. Feedback would be wonderful! 🩶⚔️

☿ 𝓹𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓲 ☿

You may be the first of your family or friend group to choose or think differently. Ie; coming from a family of alcoholics and choosing sobriety- coming from a family of abuse, Christianity, Strict//Traditional values & choosing whatever is true to YOU. I sense that people respect this different frame of mind. You have a massive impact on your close ones, I see that maybe in the past it has even led to violent outbursts from friends or family. Perhaps you feel trapped by the circumstances of life, you feel like others cannot comprehend your ideas. It may feel difficult, because there may be part of you that understands your connection to your community or your family is an INHERENT point of your success in spite of the fact they make you feel held back. I’m in tears with this pile, you guys are amazing and I hope you know and feel that. Even if others don’t always acknowledge what you are doing or what you are capable of- deep down they know.

You definitely reincarnated from your bloodline.

Your advice is to stop waiting for approval from your partner, mother, sister, brother, friends, WHOEVER- whoever's approval you're waiting on- they're unfortunately not going to give it to you likely until it's a bit too late. I understand how painful this is for you, and for some I understand that rather than approval someone may have died or passed away- and you are wanting to know that they support you. I see a lot of you are very hopeful for the future, but you're waiting- so patiently and very obediently for something. I heard someone whisper "go" it was a woman's voice, I feel that you are far more powerful than you or anyone else could have anticipated. Maybe you weren't born into the best circumstances- perhaps you almost became a statistic. Take wise action, don't move on pure impulse. You know what you've been wanting to do- so you need to go and do it. For those who feel confused by this pile I feel called to recommend pile 2 to you though I haven't written it yet. With the 7 of Pentacles, The Magician, and the Ace of Pentacles-

it's clear to me you have everything you need to make this happen. You have literally nothing to worry about, in fact. There's some kind of truth or situation you may feel called to share publicly. For some this could have to do with bringing justice to a situation, speaking on a horrific thing that happened- defending a loved one even? If not that, then you are being called to take measured steps to re-establish yourself socially. You're supposed to cut through something, someone could have used your name or reputation as a punching-bag. I heard something about cutting off the head of the dragon, and it's weird bc I was watching Percy Jackson Yesterday- I remember the scene with the hydra in the book and that is coming to mind for me. You're revealing something about yourself to others. The way you carry yourself, I heard "emblem". So that definitely makes me think of your public image. Embrace the lessons that difficulty as a child taught you, I feel very sad for your childhood pile one. It is abundantly clear to me that you have been misunderstood for a very long time. People get upset with the things they cannot understand, you are not bad. I promise. The things your family taught you- the values, the structure and foundation no matter how broken have endowed you with great wisdom and strength. You have everything you need my love, I promise you that you do. I know some of you don't feel ready, some of you may feel angry or frustrated or stagnant, just take the leap of faith. Start doing the thing, start working the process, don't give up now. You have a vision that goes far beyond what other people could visualize, it doesn't matter if they think it won't work. Not when you KNOW it will.

Find the wisdom in your heartache, and work to defy all odds. Take the pain as an opportunity to reflect, to gain knowledge- as a step towards your ultimate truth. Rework the way you experience pain. I know it's tiring, it's frustrating, it's unfair- but this lesson isn't to punish you. It is to propel you, there is a reason this theme continually pops up. I think this group should study their Chiron placement, there seems to be something there. Your pain heals others, your pain opens the door to wisdom, healing, truth, and release. Allow yourself to exist truly and freely as the most authentic version of yourself while working to rise above the pain as often as s possible.

☿ 𝓹𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓲 ☿

You need to sit tight through this period of uncertainty, I'm seeing the sails on a ship moving direction/course. So much has built up to now, you're tired of sitting and waiting in uncertainty. You're tired of pain, boredom, confusion, and the likes. It feels like rage, ready to bubble over- you may even be losing your faith in the divine. Because it seems like nothing works. Like nothing goes in your favor, you are angry. Scorned, you feel scammed. This is because intuitively you know a wish is about to be fulfilled, it's starting to come together now. Most ironically, I sense that you're preforming a type of martyrdom right now. You are sacrificing for a future that you're scared you won't be able to see. You feel as if you are blindfolded in the dark, and honestly you are- I also get frustrated at these circumstances. I find them to be unnecessary and unfair, though I am a human and probably super biased because I get the same way sometimes.

Your blessings are secretive, they aren't coming to you in a normal way. It's so weird, I really don't know why this is the approach your spirits are taking. It looks like it's because you need to learn something about balance and calmness. You have to develop a better discipline with negative emotions so they are taking this opportunity to teach that skill.

It's giving "we're going to literally make your external experience match your internal experience until you realize you're the problem" Let me tell you friend, some beautiful shit is headed your way- it's genuinely best if you just get with the memo and recognize that good things can happen to you. A lot of this "negativity" you're feeling is literally a release, you're purging a lot right now, and it's hard for you, I really do get that honestly. It isn't easy, it's in fact quite difficult and I'm sure overwhelming to feel forced into this position. You're tired of suffering, but you must take action to end your own suffering, and not like killing yourself cus I just get the vibe some of this group has been suicidal.

Fight your negative thoughts, when they tell you "something bad is happening everything will go bad" argue, point out the work you've done and the blessings you've reaped.

I get this vibe that any conflict you're seeing is not actually "real" so to speak, like- literally ignore it lowkey. Not like don't pretend it exists, but don't FEED it, it's fickle- it will come and go. There are so many other things in your life that have an actual sturdy foundation. Hold onto your healthy love/romance/friendships/relationships, hold onto your talents and gifts, hold onto your future desires- and keep your eyes ahead. Don't fixate on the dramas and bullshit of the now. Focus on something that showers you in hope- because I promise- just because you aren't seeing it in the now doesn't mean it isn't here. Once it all arrives, you'll FINALLY understand my dear.

Knight of Pentacles, 2 of pentacles, the empress, the queen of cups, and the 2 of cups.

Slow and steady wins the race, keep balance the best that you can- reap the fruits of your labor, penny pinch, be mindful of keeping the balance in check- and with a hopeful and emotionally calm heart look towards your future. If you've been feeling downtrodden or drained, you have a pick me up coming. Very soon, and it'll put quite a bit of pep in your step. You will see things changing drastically in your life very soon. Trust the process, I know you're starting to get fed up but just trust and believe in yourself. You are going to do just fine, frfr.

Since this pile is a bit shorter than 2, here is some further advice for tapping into this empress version of you: This is a hard one Pile Two, but- this is about releasing control. Going with the flow of life, while tending to your metaphorical "garden". When you feel the fear and control flaring back up, remember that you literally can only do what you're able to do. Stop to appreciate the things you do have, and look for a new perspective or find a way to avert your attention. This is a battle, girl, so you gotta buckle up and dive in. You are rewiring your mind and this is not an easy task, but you will come out better for it.

☿ 𝓹𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓲𝓲 ☿

Pile 3, I can tell you're working on something important to you. You're really transforming yourself, I see that a lot of what you need to do to transform your life you are already doing. So perhaps this is going to be more like an explanation of your life's current "season". I want to start by highlighting an interesting combination of cards pulled on the side, they seem to be the shift in the tide. We have the high priestess, the sun reversed, and the 2 of wands, all forming a little pyramid. The sun being the furthest towards the bottom, the high priestess being more towards the middle, and the 2 of wands being on top. You are observing a lot right now, you are looking at the world and your environment and everything at large and you may be realizing how small your view had been for so long. The wisdom is being culminated within you in every moment you gain clarity. I see you may have a message to deliver to this world. A light shines deep within you, this sun reversed to me paired with the high priestess almost reminds me of the black sun. The light concealed within darkness, the eternal flame I also heard. You are opening something up inside of you, something that once opened cannot be stopped. This is a good thing, you may be realizing that your past emotional patterns do not serve you anymore. You are slowly culling them off, one by one, plucking them from the root so they may never return. I see you are building your wish fulfillment, perhaps you are looking to be a spiritual elder, or a person with authority. Someone who other people listen to and rely on, some of you could even be working to enter politicians, teachers, preachers even- Wisdomatic souls with much to give to others. People may begin to respect you more, you could find that the deeper you step into this energy the more "correct" things feel, the more things fall into place for you and the more you realize that your grapple with control was fruitless.

For those in relationships that are healthy and who will resonate strongly with this message then take it: Hold on to your person, and be steadfast, trust that something is being done in your favor and remember how much the two of you have overcome in the past. When the world seems out of control, confusing, and overwhelming remember the peace you will have one day. Remember what this is all for, you have a beautiful future ahead of you. Some of you could become very wealthy for your esoteric or spiritual knowledge, others could become very wealthy for their depth of knowledge on a particular subject- in especially niche or unknown//misunderstood areas.

You will taste true independence, and possibly even some sort of fame or recognition. You will be blessed with a higher position of authority and people may just start to really respect your hustle more. If someone isn't for you, then let it be what it is. Perhaps some of you have some friends/family members who can be fickle/unreliable. Be more intentional with what friendships you'll decide to keep & why? Be more mindful about what you share with friends and family right now as well, even the people you trust. Keep things to yourself, and be patient with the growth of the fruits of your labor bae.

[howlingmod]

I never asked anyone like you for a request (beacuse I just never asked for it) but can you do a father figure 007n7 x reader? If you don't mind, I might refrence your work into mine if i ever wanted to because i think it looks nice

[hugs from zyran]

summary - 007n7 + child reader (platonic), also c00lkid is here

misc - So. I may have gotten carried away. this doesn't fit the prompt the best. (MY BAD. genuinely very sorry i was struggling). but i would be more than happy to do follow up or something im really a fan of this reader. lot of fun ideas to be had

-You were a weird kid. You couldn't remember much of where you came from and how you got where you were, couldn't think of anyone you could call your family, couldn't think of anywhere you could call home. With nothing to tie you down, you had to learn how to adapt to your surroundings.

-You learned how to lay low, hiding in plain sight and vanishing into crowds. If people did take notice of you, you knew exactly how to lose them in aisles and busy cities, making sure you got lost in all the action before they could get anywhere near you. You didn't want (or need, thank you very much) anyones help. You heard enough stories to let you know you'd just get tossed in with the rest of the unfortunate to be forgotten until you turned 18, and you'd much rather spend your days seeing the world.

-With all that you picked up from your surroundings, you eventually gained an interest in exploiting. You'd only seenn it yourself a few times, watching some other teens clip through walls to steal a few drinks from a gas station or something equally mundane, but you'd heard enough stories to have you hooked. You'd heard enough tales that people whispered to eachother about, seen the strictly-titled books detailing some of the most infamous that lined the scarcely visited corners of libraries, and you knew what you had to do next.

-It wasn't easy, not by any means, but you made it work. It's not exactly easy to get tutorials on something so looked down upon, especially the more advanced hacks, but you had all the time in the world to explore. Over time, you honed your craft, moving from slamming your hands into walls when it didn't work to effortlessly slipping through them. You just had to keep practicing and time would tell.

-Since it wasn't exactly easy to consistently secure food without any money or alerting others to your orphaned state, you started to implement your newfound skills to your daily routine. Only problem was it just forced you to realize some of the errors in your practice. It came to a head one night when you decided to try your luck with a local pizza place.

By that point, you were starving. It'd been a while since you'd eaten anything and you were exhausted from researching all day. Looking back on it now, that was probably big part of why things didn't go too well that night. You'd come up late, wanting to limit the number of possible witnesses.

There was one employee you'd spotted while cloaked heading out for a smoke break, so you'd have to carry out your attack before they got back. After sneaking around them, you'd looked in through one of the very corners of the windows, spotting one cashier and two customers. Not great conditions but you could make it work, at this rate you had to with how your stomsch was killing you.

Readying your nerves, you'd walked back to what you presumed to be the exterior walls of the kitchen. With another breath, you stepped forward, slipping through them with ease and starting your mental timer before the other employee returned. You had to be quick, analyzing your surroundings the moment you came to, completely unaware your sudden entry wasn't at all hidden from the customers thanks to a large doorway you weren't able to see from the window.

There were a few pizzas that seemed ready to go, though they weren't yet boxed up. You looked around for a stack of cardboard, hastily snatching one up the moment you spotted them and slipping one of the pizzas into it. You'd underestimated the weight of it, watching it slip off the lip of the box and onto the floor with a muted splat. You hissed, biting your lip in embarassment before brushing it off. You only had so much time, you couldn't cry over spilled pizza.

The next one went in fine, much to your hushed delight, and you made your way back out. The moment you passed the walls threshold you stopped. One pizza could last you a day or two but two pizzas could last you even longer. Without a second thought, you set the first box down, turned around, and made your way for another. This time, you didn't pick up on the exchange that started with your arrival.

"Papa! Look!" C00lkid cheered, pointing into the kitchen excitedly.

"Huh?" 007n7 looked where his son was pointing, being met with nothing. It was curious but he couldn't pay attention to it right now, busy with ordering.

You found another two pizzas, carefully inching them over into boxes and stacked them up. While you were at it, you decided to pick up a few sodas, you could use the sugar, you were getting pretty tired out lately. Once you'd carefully arranged your haul, you sized it up. It would be a lot to carry and you weren't too confident in balancing it all as you walked. There had to be some bags around here...

Just as you began to scour around, C00lkid separated from his father, quietly padding over to get a better look into the kitchen. He stood and watched as you dug around, looking in boxes and scrambling through the contents of drawers. Finally, you'd managed to find a stack of plastic bags in one box, temporarily struggling to peel one away from the others before you began to quietly open it up, wincing as it crinkled.

At the same moment you got back to your pile of food and began to put it away, everything came crashing down. The back door began to swing open, the other employee walking in with tired eyes before they caught sight of you, shooting wide open.

"Papa, look! There's a-"

"THIEF!"

You jolted upright, staring back like a deer in headlights before scrambling to get everything into the bag. One can clattered onto the floor, narrowly missing the plastic. They stood in shock while the cashier rounded the corner to see you as well, immediately darting over to try and catch you. Just as their arms tried to cage you in, you clipped through them, just barely keeping your bag with you.

"HACKER?!" The other employee shouted, still in shock.

The commotion had pulled n7 from his daze, drawing him over to his son, if only to make sure he didn't get caught in the crossfire. He wasn't sure what he expected to see when he looked into the kitchen, but he certainly wasn't expecting you. He'd seen you just a few seconds before you managed to get back through the wall, hardly disturbing a thing in your way. He recognized the exact exploit you were using as one of the first ones he'd ever learned. You were a novice for sure but, this young? You were well ahead of where he was at your age.

"Oh, for the love of God," Elliot groaned, staring at the spot you'd been moments prior before hiding his face in his hands.

"Should we like .. call someone?" The other asked, giving him a lost look.

"I don't even care, man."

-For the next few days, n7 couldn't stop thinking about the whole ordeal. Sure, he'd seen plenty of hackers before, of all different times and from all different scenes but .. you stuck with him. You looked so scrawny, so small. Maybe being a parent had made him soft- No, it definitely had, but he couldn't stop thinking about you. He did the same thing but he just did it for fun, you clearly had some need for it. Kids don't just look like that, learn this and steal food for no reason, that wouldn't make sense. You were long gone by the time they got outside, not like he'd expected you to stay around the scene long. C00lkid had helped him look around for a little bit to no avail, you made yourself vanish within seconds.

-It'd rained a few days later and he couldn't help but feel sick. He didn't know your situation but the guilt of just watching you run off was eating him alive. He found himself staring out the window, looking for something that never showed up. That night, he laid awake, staring up at the ceiling and listening to every drop hit the roof. The hours crawled by and sleep never found him. He couldn't live like this.

-The next day he'd dropped C00lkid off at school he'd asked Noli to pick him up and watch him till he got back, as he'd be busy with something. Noli had tried to ask him about it but only got a 'I'll tell you later,' in reply. He was too caught up in your case to explain himself right now. He'd tried to look for any reports on similar, recent cases but came up with next to nothing. You'd been keeping your exploiting on the down low for a while now if he had to guess, going off how .. iffy, your pizza heist had gone, that had clearly been your capstone project, an over extension of your abilities.

-You'd been keeping yourself out of trouble then, which was good. However, it gave him one location to go off of, which wasn't as good. Considering you hadn't teleported away, he figured you either A) hadn't learned how to yet, or B) lived in the area. With little else to go off of, he had to hope it was B, as he began his search. He looked into every alley he passed by, reluctantly going down each of them and scouring every corner of them. In a few especially embarrassing examples he'd been caught looking into dumpsters and turning over cardboard boxes, offering up a half-assed excuse about losing something that made most people narrow their eyes and slowly turn away, if only to make distance between him and them.

-He'd continued looking until the sun was just a few hours from the horizon with not a single clue or lead under his belt. Dreadfully, the idea that you were whole cities away began to creep into the forefront of his mind. It was only when he'd stopped into a convenience store for water that he'd gotten a lead.

"Long day?" The cashier asked, eyeing him up suspiciously. He wasn't in the best shape out of breath and distressed by hours of digging through dirty streets and other people's garbage.

"Ah, something like that," he laughed breathlessly, rubbing at his neck. He looked around the store idly, spotting the typical monitor of security cameras hanging up near the ceiling. He'd gazed into it, finding himself in one of the sightlines. Without a second thought, he asked, "Have you had anything get stolen recently?"

"Oh, are you kidding me? Every day some punk comes in here trying their luck, thinking they're a tough guy," they huffed, irritation hardening their voice, "Why? Is that a threat?"

"Oh! No, no, nothing like that! I just ... I know this is going to sound crazy, but I'm looking for someone and uh, the only thing I know about them is that they ..."

"Rob innocent people?"

"Borrow things," n7 winced, "Listen, I know that sounds bad but they're just a kid, I'm worried about them. I've got a son of my own and I just can't imagine what I'd do if I saw him in that kind of state doing things like this."

They cooled a little at that, shoulders lowering.

"I know you've probably got every reason not to tell me but I have to try, they deserve a chance, don't they?"

n7 stared at them, watching as they tapped their fingers on the counter and looked everywhere but at him. After a few long moments, they cracked, hunching over with a sigh, "I think I might know who you're talking about. I caught them here a few nights ago, from what I've heard they live somewhere near the park, under the bridge or in that storage shed, I'm not sure. Not my circus, not my monkeys."

n7 lit up at that, perking up instantly, "Oh- Thank you, you don't know how long i've been looking. Really, I can't thank you enough."

"Just get that kid far away from my store, I already deal with enough sticky fingers as is," They grunted in response.

-The moment n7 had paid for his stuff, he was out the door heading towards the park. Honestly, that should've been one of the first places he checked. He didn't have enough time to criticize his past decision, busy searching for a familiar figure.

-The bridge had been completely abandoned, only a few wrappers and empty cans left behind to insicate anyone had ever been there. Anything from your robbery was absent, leaving him to check the storage shed instead. He didn't pay any mind to the hefty padlock on the door, it was more for show than anything, if this really was where you were staying.

-Sure enough, the boxes and soda cans were one of the first things he found inside. There were a few raggedy sheets and a makeshift mattress out of a few others. You'd built up quite the stash of miscellanious belongings. Clearly, you'd been on your own for a bit, but just how long...? The pit in n7's stomach reappeared, deeper with even more guilt.

"Are you stalking me?" The sudden voice had caused him to nearly jump out of his skin, whipping around to see the owner of it. You were standing a few feet behind him, eyeing him up cautiously with a laptop tucked in one arm, the other clenched at your side.

"Wh- No, no I'm not stalking you. I just want to help you is all, it's not safe for you to be alone," He tried, making his voice as small and nonthreatening as possible. With the path you were on and your situation, he hardly expected you to be accomodating. He had to be careful of what he said here, one wrong word and the whole thing would fall apart.

"So you're stalking me."

"No, I'm- That's not," n7 stammered, struggling for the right thing to say. He wasn't exactly an expert in handling delicate situations, he barely even knew what he was doing with C00lkidd half the time.

"Weren't you an exploiter?" You asked, curioisity bleeding into your voice. There it was, that was an opening he could use, right? Find common ground then go from there ...

"Yes, I was. I see you've been learning. You're pretty impressive for a kid," you almost smiled at that, a twitch of the lips that was snatched away in an instant, corrected as soon as you noticed the slip-up.

"You aren't anymore. Why'd you stop?"

"Well, exploiting can hurt a lot of people. I ... I just wasn't proud of who I was, that's why I'm so w-"

You cut him off before he could even try segwaying into your situation, "That's stupid. You learned all that just to throw it away?"

n7 stiffened at that, this was clearly veering down the wrong path, derailing right before his eyes, "It's not throwing it away, it's just that you can't take advantage of people like that."

"Why shouldn't I? Not like they've done anything for me " you hissed, pulling your laptop up over your chest.

Fuck. This was going bad, really bad. You'd already taken a half-step back, you were so close to just running off and starting this whole process again. He got down on a knee, lowering to your height, "Listen, I know people haven't been kind to you and I'm so, so sorry for that. I can help you figure this out, I've got plenty of space and food- I've got a son just like you, actually."

You'd relaxed a little, setting your foot back down on the ground.

He smiled, "Or, if you don't trust me, I'd be happy to help you find someone else. I know there are plenty of people who'd be happy to take you in."

That set you off again. Instantly, any of the consideration you had was replaced with something more active, more aggressive. You clutched your arms around your laptop, hunching over it and grit your teeth, leering up at him, "Like I need your help! I'm not falling for this stupid trap, I'm not just gonna throw this all away! Just leave me alone!"

With that, you spun on your heel and ran through the wall, leaving him to spring up and stumble after you.

"I didn't mean it like that- I'm not gonna turn you in or anything. Just wait!"

He'd only caught you for a few seconds before he blinked, opening his eyes to see nothing. Where you'd been darting off moments ago, you were gone. Did you teleport? He hadn't seen any menu... He stared for a few seconds longer, scanning the horizon. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was around. You'd completely vanished.

He looked up at the sky, being met with sunset. The later half of one, too. When had it gotten so late? It'd been noon not too long ago. The sky was tinted with red, absent of any answers. Reluctantly, he turned away, heading back home. He'd have to try something else, maybe he should just call someone, he didn't have time to run around like this with C00lkidd. Speaking of which, how was he doing? He hoped he hadn't been too much trouble for Noli.

-***-

Your bones hurt, or maybe it was your muscles. Something was hurting, that's all you knew. You weren't too worried about it. From the way that shadow had made it out, you had all the time in the world to get better, stronger. The menu in front of you was stacked with new exploits, you'd been scrolling through it with glazed over eyes, each name drawing your interest with all the possibilities.

As you limbs laid heavy on the ground, your hand kept scrolling. You stopped briefly on one, '/fling.' You looked past the menu, finding a nearby log and typing in your best approximation of its ID. The second you hit execute, you watched it go flying, soaring through the sky until it inevitably hit the ground with a distant 'splash.' You smiled, a weak little laugh prying its way out of your scratchy throat. You spared your legs a glance, they looked so strange. Did you always look like this? Had you always had such sharp nails? Is that why everyone looked at you like that?

"Hey! That looks just like my dads!" A voice cried next to you, echoey and distorted. The owner plopped down by your side, leaning into your field of vision with a grin.

"He uses it to teleport us to school!" He beamed, rocking back and forth, "Can you teleport?"

You stared at the small boy out of the corner of your eye, meeting his excited, expectant eyes. Numbly, you shifted your eyes back towards the menu, finding the '/tp' and digging through your mind for a random ID number. Your fingers found the keys before they even registered in your mind, the screen an extension of your arm more than anything. As you hit 'execute,' a soda can fell and tipped over next to your knee.

The boy gasped, snatching the can up giddily, "Awesome! What else can you do?"

You found yourself looking for another command before you could even process his words, scrolling for the next object of interest. 'He looks so strange,' you thought, not too far off from how you looked, though. As he settled in to watch you work, you found you didn't mind either of your appearances.

[alohajix]

𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐦

Description: [Y/N] signed her son up for soccer to help him feel a little braver. She didn’t expect it to feel like she was the one learning how to start over. And she definitely didn’t expect the coach to start feeling like home.

Warnings: single parenthood, child anxiety, parental guilt, emotional vulnerability, fear of abandonment, slow-burn romance, eventual consensual smut (soft to intense).

Word count: TBD.

author’s note: this little mini-story is actually part of something a bit bigger! if you enjoyed part one, i’m planning to share the four other parts exclusively on my patreon as i write them. there’s zero pressure, of course—just knowing you’re here reading already means the world to me. but if you’d like to support my work even more and follow this story as it continues, you’ll be able to find the rest over there when they’re ready. thank you so much for reading. i appreciate you more than you know! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Main Masterlist

Marked by Midnight’s Masterlist

***

Warnings: child nervousness, social overwhelm, parental self-doubt, references to past social exclusion, emotional tension, fear of letting someone in.

Word count: 3,748.

The field is busier than I expected. Parents already staking their claims with fold-out chairs along the sidelines, sipping from oversized thermoses, shouting to each other over the hum of kids in matching jerseys sprinting across the grass like it's the World Cup. My stomach pulls tight as I kill the engine, my hands still wrapped around the steering wheel like I'm not entirely sure if we should even be here.

I glance into the rearview mirror, catching Archie in the back seat, small hands fidgeting with the hem of his jersey again. He's been doing that since we left the apartment—rolling the fabric between his fingers like it might unravel if he stops. It's bright red, way too big on him. He'd wanted it that way. Said the bigger one felt safer. Like armor, he told me, with the kind of serious little face only a six-year-old could pull off. But looking at him now, all I can think is how small he really looks in it.

I let out a slow breath and glance toward the field again, already feeling the weight of every other parent who looks like they've done this a hundred times before. Like they belong here. Like they belong together.

I climb out of the car, shut my door gently, and walk around to his side. He doesn't move when I open it, just looks up at me with those wide, worried eyes I know too well. The same eyes I've seen every time we try something new. I crouch down so we're level, resting my elbows on my knees.

"Alright, champ... you ready?"

His feet swing nervously over the edge of the seat. His voice is so soft I almost miss it.

"Do I have to go with them by myself?"

God, how many times have I heard that question in one form or another? First days of school, new babysitters, birthday parties where he doesn't know anyone but me. The same fear, every time. The same knot in my stomach when I have to lie just a little to make him believe this time will be different.

I reach for his hand, curling my fingers around his.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," I tell him quietly, brushing a piece of hair off his forehead. "But remember what we said? About trying? About being brave enough to see if it feels a little better once you get started?"

He bites his lip hard enough to leave a mark, glancing toward the field. I follow his gaze, taking in the kids already spread out in messy clusters, parents shouting encouragement like this is the most important thing in the world. My throat feels tight just looking at it.

"I'll be right here," I add softly. "The whole time. You can look for me whenever you want."

His chin wobbles just a little, but after a second, he nods. It's barely there, but it's enough. I press a quick kiss to his temple, breathing him in like it might settle something in me, too. That familiar scent of shampoo and syrup and him. My safe place, even when I'm the one who's supposed to be his.

I hold out my hand.

"Come on. Let's go check it out."

He slips his hand into mine without saying another word, holding on tight. Tighter than usual. We start walking toward the noise. And even though I've already promised him it's going to be okay, I'm not sure I believe it yet.

The closer we get, the more it feels like my skin's been pulled too tight. Like every step drags me further into a place I'm not convinced we belong. Archie's fingers are sweaty in mine, small and tense, and I can feel the tiny tremble in them with every squeeze. He's walking slower now, half a step behind, like if he keeps dragging his feet long enough, maybe I'll turn us around and call the whole thing off.

I want to. God, I want to. But I don't.

We stop at the edge of the field, just shy of the first line of folding chairs. I shift my weight, standing tall enough to look like I know what I'm doing, even though the truth feels like it's unraveling by the second.

Parents are everywhere—chatting over the hum of thermoses being popped open, stretching their legs out toward the grass like they've claimed this territory a dozen times before. Some of them are wearing team hoodies. Some already know each other's kids by name. You can tell by the way they laugh like it's nothing new.

I tuck Archie in a little closer to my side, scanning the field until I find the group in red jerseys forming near the far goalpost. A man's standing in front of them, clipboard tucked under one arm, whistle hanging loose from his neck. His sleeves are already shoved up to his elbows, hands gesturing casually as he calls the group to attention.

"All right, Red Rockets, let's bring it in!"

The way he says it catches me off guard—not sharp, not impatient, not the way I expected someone to rally a group of six-year-olds on a cold Saturday morning. It's... soft. Confident, but not loud. Like he already knows they'll listen without needing to shout.

I feel Archie flinch just a little beside me, his body shrinking closer to mine like the sound spooked him. I glance down, smoothing my thumb across the back of his hand.

"It's okay," I whisper, even though I have no idea if that's true.

When I look back up, the man's moving. Walking toward the group of kids gathering into a loose circle in front of him. I catch the edge of his voice again—lower this time, more focused on the ones who haven't settled yet.

Archie stiffens all over again, frozen like he's deciding whether to bolt or hide. And all I can think is please don't shut down. Not yet.

I'm already running through my backup plan in my head—how to peel him off the sidelines gently if he refuses to move, how to keep my voice from cracking when I tell him it's okay, we can try again another week—when I catch movement from the corner of my eye. He's walking toward us. Steady. Unbothered. No clipboard this time, no whistle in his hand. Just easy steps like he's done this before. Like he's not in a rush to fix anything.

Archie stiffens even more, his little body locking up next to mine like he's bracing for impact. I lean down toward his ear, lowering my voice to that quiet, steady hum I've learned works better than anything else.

"It's okay, baby. Just breathe. I'm right here."

He stops a couple of steps away, leaving space like he knows better than to crowd us. His hands are loose in his jacket pockets, his mouth tipping into the kind of smile that feels... patient. The kind that makes it look like this isn't a problem to solve—it's just a moment to walk through.

"Hey there," he says, nodding once like it's the most normal thing in the world to approach strangers this way. "First day nerves?"

I shift my weight, pulling Archie a little closer to my side.

"Yeah," I answer softly, my voice rougher than I mean for it to sound. "We just moved here. Still trying to find our place."

He nods like that makes perfect sense. Like he's heard it before.

"'S a lot, isn't it?" he murmurs, glancing toward the field again like he remembers exactly what it feels like to stand on the outside of something. "Is that your little one, then? Number five?"

I look down at Archie, who's still clinging to me, eyes wide but curious now.

"Yeah. Archer. We... we call him Archie."

Harry crouches down slowly, resting his elbows on his knees. He doesn't reach for Archie. Doesn't try to pull him out of hiding. He just lowers himself to his level and lets his voice drop even softer.

"Hiya, Archie. I'm Harry. Coach Harry, technically, but that feels a bit too serious for six-year-olds, don't you think?"

Archie doesn't answer, but his grip on my sweater loosens just a little. His eyes flick to Harry's shoes, then to his face, then back to me like he's checking if I'm still here. Harry keeps going, easy as anything.

"Y'know, we've got a job open today," he adds with a quiet grin. "Someone needs to help me set up all those cones over there before the team comes in. Think you might be able to help me with that?"

Archie shifts his weight, biting his lip, and for a second I'm sure he's going to shut down again. But then—so small I almost miss it—he nods. Just once. Harry doesn't make a big deal out of it. Doesn't whoop or cheer or make it a moment bigger than it needs to be. He just leans back on his heels, pushes to his feet, and tips his head toward the pile of cones on the grass.

"We'll just be over here," he says to me softly. "Promise I'll bring him right back."

I stay frozen where I am, arms wrapped tight around myself like I might actually fall apart if I move too fast.

Archie follows him. Slowly, yeah—but he follows. Two tiny steps at first. Then one more. He's a full body length behind, but he's moving. Moving toward something without me. My throat feels like it's closing up just watching it happen.

I hover at the edge of the chairs, not daring to sit down. My eyes flick to the other parents spread out along the sidelines, already swapping stories about school pickups and carpool schedules like this is just another weekend. Some of them aren't even watching the field. Some are already halfway through their second cup of coffee, shouting out names like they've done this a hundred times.

It's strange, standing here alone. My arms wrapped around myself like I'm bracing for something, like I'm waiting for a punch that never comes. I glance up at the sky for no reason at all, noting the gray clouds stretching low and heavy over the trees at the far end of the field. One gust of wind, and it'll probably rain.

Of course, I didn't bring an umbrella. I didn't think that far ahead. I'd been too busy worrying about Archie. About whether or not I could even get him this far.

I shift again, pressing my tongue to the back of my teeth to stop myself from calling Archie back. My fingers itch to reach for him, to pull him out of the spotlight and hide him somewhere safer. Somewhere smaller. Somewhere where he doesn't have to try so hard. But I don't. I stay planted. I watch Harry kneel beside the pile of cones, picking them up one by one and laying them out on the grass like he's got all the time in the world. He doesn't even glance back to see if Archie's still following. He just... waits.

Archie shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking back toward me like he's asking permission without saying it out loud. My chest tightens, but I nod once, small and steady, like I'm not terrified he's about to fall apart in front of everyone. And then he moves again. Steps right up to the pile and crouches awkwardly, his little fingers fumbling to grab a cone. Harry leans in a little, points to a spot on the field, and Archie starts walking toward it, arms stiff like he's afraid to drop it.

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. My throat stings with it. Like I've been holding that breath for longer than just today. It's small. So small. But it's more than I expected. I've seen people give up on him before. I've watched them get impatient when he freezes or takes too long to answer or hides behind me when they try to pull him out of his shell too fast. I've heard the tight, strained "it's okay, some kids just aren't social" more times than I can count. Always laced with that disappointed edge like they've already decided he's too much work.

I've seen the way they check their watches. The way they glance toward me with that half-frown, half-smile that really means "he's slowing us down." I've walked Archie back to the car more times than I can count with his head on my shoulder, whispering it's not his fault even when I know he doesn't believe me.

And every time it happens, I feel that weight in my chest. That bitter little voice in the back of my head that says see? This is why you keep your circle small. This is why you don't expect people to stay.

But Harry doesn't flinch. Doesn't push. He just lets Archie take his time, moving one cone at a time like there's nothing else to do today but wait for him to figure it out.

I glance down at the ground by my feet, kicking at the grass with the tip of my shoe like that might ground me somehow. It doesn't. All I can do is watch. All I can do is hope. I feel my heart catch in my throat because I already know I shouldn't let myself get used to that. He's just doing his job. And it's nothing. But the way it feels settling in my chest tells me I'm lying to myself already.

The rest of practice passes in a blur. I barely register what the other kids are doing. I don't hear a single word the parents around me say. I'm too locked in on Archie. On the way he stays close to Harry, watching every move like he's afraid he might miss something important.

And somehow, somehow, he stays. He doesn't run back to me. He doesn't shut down. He doesn't quit.

By the time Harry claps his hands together and calls the team in one last time, Archie's cheeks are flushed, curls sticking to his forehead, his little hands tugging on the bottom of his jersey again—but his shoulders aren't hunched the way they were when we got here. He's tired, but he's still standing.

I push off the fence and start toward the edge of the field, hugging my arms around myself again like it's going to hold me together for the next thirty seconds.

Harry crouches down to Archie's level again, says something low that makes Archie nod. Then he stands, turns toward me, and starts walking over with that same easy pace like we aren't two strangers standing on opposite sides of a life we haven't figured out yet.

"He did great," Harry says when he reaches us, nodding toward Archie like he means it. "Took a little warming up, but he stuck it out."

I swallow the knot in my throat, brushing Archie's hair off his forehead again.

"Thanks for being patient with him. I know he's... a lot sometimes."

Harry frowns a little—just for a second—like he doesn't like hearing that.

"He's not a lot," he says quietly, like it's a fact. "He's a kid. Kids move at their own pace."

And just like that, something in my chest pulls tight again. Because no one ever says it like that. Not without sounding like they're trying to convince themselves. But Harry says it like he actually believes it.

I shift my weight, blinking hard to keep my expression neutral. My mouth opens to thank him again, but nothing comes out. I chew the inside of my cheek instead, heat creeping up the back of my neck.

Before I can embarrass myself further, he clears his throat, rocking back on his heels.

"Listen, uh—would it be alright if I grabbed your number? Just in case we have to reschedule or... if Archie forgets anything?"

I freeze for a second longer than I probably should. I shouldn't. I shouldn't. That little voice in my head kicks in fast, warning me not to blur the lines. Not to give anyone even an inch closer than they need to be. But he's looking at me with that same steady patience I've watched him give to Archie all morning. Like I have a choice. Like he'll back off if I say no.

I nod. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, already unlocked to a blank contact screen. I take it carefully, fingers brushing his. His skin is warm. Calloused, like he works with his hands for real. I feel it all the way down to my wrist, like something I shouldn't notice but do anyway.

I stare at the screen longer than I need to. I could fake it. I could type a number off by one digit and let this stay exactly what it is. Professional. Detached. Easy to forget.

But my thumb moves before I can stop it. I type my real name—[Y/N]. My real number.

When I hand it back, Harry glances at the screen, then up at me again with that easy, unreadable smile.

"Perfect. Thanks [Y/N]." God help me, I don't trust myself not to read too much into it.

Archie shifts beside me, tugging lightly on the hem of my sleeve like he's working up to something. He's got that scrunched-up little look on his face—the one he gets when he's thinking too hard. His cheeks are still flushed from running around, curls sticking to his damp forehead, but his eyes are darting between me and Harry like he's trying to figure something out.

Harry tucks his phone back into his jacket pocket and gives Archie one last ruffle of his hair, starting to turn back toward the rest of the kids when Archie blurts it out—loud enough for half the field to hear.

"Mama... can Coach Harry come to dinner sometime?"

The words hit me like a slap to the chest. Quick. Sharp. Immediate. My stomach drops. My throat closes. I freeze.

Harry doesn't. He doesn't laugh. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't even blink, really. His smile doesn't falter for a second. He just crouches down to Archie's level again, his voice dropping low and soft, like it's just for him.

"Maybe one day, little man," Harry says, reaching out to tap two fingers lightly against Archie's tiny fist. "Gotta keep practicin' those kicks first, yeah? That's the deal."

Archie beams like he's just been promised Disneyland. I, on the other hand, feel like my face is on fire. My heart slams so hard I swear I can hear it in my ears. I glance around like I'm half-expecting someone to be standing there listening, but no one is. No one's paying attention to us at all.

Except me. Except Harry. Except Archie, who's already moved on like it's the most normal thing in the world to invite a complete stranger to dinner.

I clear my throat, tightening my grip on the strap of my bag.

"Alright, bud... let's grab your stuff."

Harry stands again, brushing his palms against his thighs like he's shaking off the grass. His eyes meet mine for one last second, and there's something there I can't quite name. Not teasing. Not pity. Just... something steady. Something that feels like he already knows I'm going to overthink this all night.

"See you next week?" I ask before I can stop myself, my voice tighter than I mean for it to be.

Harry nods, rocking back on his heels again.

"Wouldn't miss it."

And just like that, he's gone—turning back toward the pile of equipment like the last five minutes didn't knock the air clean out of my lungs.

Archie talks the whole walk back to the car. Little bursts of excitement tumbling over each other—how he kicked the ball once, how Coach Harry let him carry the cones, how next week he's going to run even faster. He's out of breath before we even make it across the parking lot, his tiny hand swinging in mine like all the fear from earlier never happened.

I keep nodding, making all the right noises, but it feels like my head is full of static. Like I can't get my feet back under me, no matter how many steps I take.

I get him buckled into his booster seat, double-check the straps even though I know they're fine. I lean in, pressing a kiss to his temple like I always do, breathing him in for just a second longer than necessary. He giggles, pushing at my face with one small hand.

"Mamaaa," he laughs, like I'm embarrassing him. Like it's funny. Like his heart isn't still tangled up in my hands the way mine is in his.

I shut the door quietly and lean back against the car, staring out at the emptying parking lot. Most of the families are gone already. The folding chairs are packed up, the chatter's faded, and the breeze is colder now than it was an hour ago. I wrap my arms around myself, digging my nails into my sleeves like that might stop the way my chest feels like it's caving in.

I don't know what I expected today to be. But it wasn't this. It wasn't the way Archie actually stayed. The way he looked—pink-cheeked and almost proud—for the first time in God knows how long. And it sure as hell wasn't the way Harry spoke to him. Or to me. Like we weren't some charity case. Like he wasn't performing patience for points. Like he actually... saw us. Both of us.

I shove my hand into my pocket, pulling out my phone before I can stop myself. My thumb hovers over the screen for half a breath too long before I swipe it open and scroll to my contacts.

Harry.

I lock the screen again and stuff it deep into my jacket like I can hide from it if I don't look too long.

"Okay," I whisper to myself, pushing off the car and moving toward the driver's side.

I'm already overthinking it.

***

@cloudyluun @gem1712 @dipmeinhoneyh @idk1990 @harrrrystylesslut @sparxx27 @likea-silhouette @fangirl509east @starryhaze-crystal @mads3502 @run-for-the-hills @twinklaei @belgianblondee @pbandnutella @maudie-duan @cat-loves-music @harrysgirl2003 @harrystyleshotwife @secretands-blog @dutchtheatrelore @angeldavis777 @idkidcfuboh @maddiesalvatore1839

[kingsillysmilez]

Do you have any advice on how to draw complicated designs or even complicated clothes? Your kandi and decora inspire me a lot!

My main advice is that if you are struggling to make it look like decora, you may be trying to draw your details too small.

In this first image, you can see I tried to draw clips, but everything is drawn really small for some reason and deliberately not trying to have them overlap. Which is fine, but not really decora...

When we look at real life decora, accessories always overlap and fill in space. They have lots of larger clips and even the smaller clips are chunky and clearly visible!!! Do not be afraid to make your clips bigger than you think is needed. IMO clips looking "too big" looks better than clips that look "too small".

I usually do 2 layers for decora clips. The first one is drawing the top clips, and then the second one I've fill in the space on a layer below. It is very difficult to to draw all of the clips on one layer while also wanting them to overlap neatly, and is just so much faster to use multiple layers. I don't recommend trying to draw all overlapping accessories on one layer, its very frustrating to move clips or erase anything... (speaking from experience)

I kinda rawdog the accessories themselves without any sketch, or if I do have a sketch its just scribbles where I want to put accessories. Remember you can draw whatever you want as accessories!!!! Shove references in there do whatever you want thats one of the many joys of decora!!!!!!!!!!!!

For Kandi, its just kinda the same thing. If you want an arm full of kandi you have to draw an arm full of kandi. I like a variety in my kandi, so I try not to put the same types of kandi next to eachother. I would recommend also, if you're working with rainbows, to alternate starting your rainbow on the left or right side so that they dont always look like theyre going the same way.

You can always add a layer below or on top to fill out your kandi. Most kandi can be drawn just with circles/squares/hears/stars/rectangles/whatever simple shape you can think of. None of it individually is all that complex, just when its all together it looks impressive!

If you are struggling, you may want to increase your canvas size, or try drawing your circles bigger. In real life my cube letter beads are the same size as the individual pony beads, but when I draw them theyre much bigger so I can actually draw legible letters on them. Remember there are no strict rules for this, so if you like it then you're doing it right.

None of my character designs are actually all that complicated. They may be detailed, but not complicated. All of these are fairly simple to draw, just may take some time.

Decora and Kandi are both very personalized, so please please draw references to things you/your character likes. Just drawing rainbows and standard clips are fine and all, but think about charms or words or shapes or food or colors or objects that fit the character. It takes it up a notch and feels much more real.

[dead-flight]

⌖ neighbour!simon x reader. / oneshot

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ `· . dead-flight .ᐟ masterlist

simon riley x reader, smut, sir? kink?, mild overstim?, size difference, creampie + multiple orgamsmsmsmsm (r)

simon was not the type to enjoy moving about. in fact, simon hated it. hated how moving required picking up what life he'd established, even if it were small. he didn't understand how people could pack their lives up and ship across the country just like that.

'til he did. wasn't really a must, but he wanted to downsize. needed something a little smaller than what he had. it's not like he spent all his time there anyways--he was usually on base, and taking care of a bigger apartment was asking too much.

so he packed up, moved a few blocks away, holed up in a little apartment building. the day he moved in, carrying just a few boxes (he didn't have much to begin with), he couldn't help but notice the person right beside his door.

cute. you were wide-eyed and cute. stared at him across the hallway before sheepishly asking him if he minded moving out of your way so you could get to your apartment. lo and behold, you opened the door beside his and slipped in.

simon didn't give it much thought, to be honest. didn't really care how cute you were. he wasn't the type to want anyone, let alone a little girl. he doubted you could defend yourself if you joined a fistfight with a gun.

but you thought differently. walked past his apartment extra times a day, hoping you'd catch him on the way out so you could get a better look at his biceps, or the scar on his cheek, dragging down to his lip.

you lengthened your grocery lists, made sure the bags were a tiny bit too heavy, just in case you might see him in the parking lot and ask him for help.

you knocked on his door in the afternoon, shyly looking up at him with those big doe eyes, biting your lip and asking him, "um, sir, do you mind helping? my sink is leaking... and i just don't want to... bother anyone else."

simon was pissed, the first time he had met you. he always heard some kind of excited prattling from through the thin walls, as you excitedly rambled to a friend. you just talked, and talked, and talked--simon's head was going to fall off.

so maybe, if it shut you up, he'd entertain your silly little requests.

when you asked him how to fix your sink, so cutely, how could he say no?

so here he was, under your sink, on his back, his shirt under his head as he'd taken it off. (maybe you'd increased the AC in your room, hoping he'd take his shirt off. sneaky little thing.)

you sat on the counter, uncaring about what he was saying about your sink, hooked on the slight rasp of his voice and the way his abs flexed as he tightened your pipes.

then simon was done, and you grabbed his arm as he sat up, picking up his shirt. "sir? can i pay you? um... don't have much money on me to give you, but i could give you something else."

and fuck him, you were so needy. felt your hand on his arm tighten every time he moved as if to leave. simon knew he was falling straight into a trap, and if he was being honest, he's not sure he minded. he sighs, the crease between his brows deepening. "'yer alright, luv. ain't gonna ask y'for anythin'."

you pouted. like a sad, kicked pup. pouted at him. "please? stay a bit, let me... um. i can make you something to eat. cookies? i make really good cookies."

simon was really good at dodging negotiation tactics. really good at surviving the harshest forms of torture. but he hadn't been trained to dodge the torture suddenly straining in his pants as he took you in, pretty pink frills on your skirt, your thighs which dissapeared under the fabric. so he stayed, sat there whilst you busied about the kitchen, whipping together some cookies.

when they were done, you presented them to him, real giddy, jumping on your heels. "here, try one."

before he could reach for one, you sat yourself in his lap, right on top of him, offering the cookie to his lips. simon grunts, his hand instinctively moving to grip your hip. "watch y'rself, luv. don' wanna start somethin' you ain't gonna finish."

shame, that you were so confident, really. maybe then you wouldn't have ended up grinding on his lap like a bitch in heat. maybe then he wouldn't have bent you right over the counter, pushing your pretty skirt up to leer at the sopping wet patch of underwear over your cunt. "mh, she's real pretty, eh, luv?"

you were so confident up until you came on his fingers. simon didn't even give you a second to think, his fingers pressing deeper, squishing against your gummy walls. "c'mere, darlin', jus' wanna have some more."

and in one smooth stroke of his cock, after a second orgasm, the rest of your confidence dissapeared. the stretch burned, like he was splitting you in half, god, he was too fucking big. "s-sir, sir, it's too big..."

"hush, take it," he grunts, practically folding you over, his hips forcing against yours, his hand on your jaw. his thumb rubs over the corner of your mouth, swiping up the drool that slips from your mouth.

poor thing. you shouldn't have poked the bear, but you just couldn't help it, could you? craved the way his cock filled you up so good. he was going to ruin you for everyone else.

"you... you on the pill, darling?" he grunts out into your ear, heavy breaths puffing against your skin.

"ah, fffuck... yes, please. please, sir, want you..." you're cut off by a desperate moan as he thrusts into you heavily, his bodyweight pressing against you. the chain around his neck, dog tags, press into the skin on your back, branding against your skin, leaving a little red mark, pressing his name into you.

when he comes inside you, he huffs, rubbing your clit gently as he pulls out, softening cock resting against your thigh. "good fuckin' girl."

safe to say, you may just have to poke the bear a little bit more.

written by dead-flight. do not copy, translate, or give to ai.

[itdontmatter283472374]

What are we? Chapter Fourteen

A/N: Ok, quick side note, Mother's Day was literal hell at work, so I am kinda burnt out right now. Also, don't be surprised if I low-key make a one-shot or start another story. I have plans for this, but I am getting a little tired of it, and I know y'all want smut, but it might not be happening for a while for this series, so yeah.

BREAKING: ESPN HEADLINE – “UConn’s Paige Bueckers Suffers ACL Tear During Pickup Game on Campus”

The notification hit phones like a gut punch just before noon: Paige Bueckers, UConn’s standout guard and a face of women’s basketball, had gone down during an informal scrimmage in the practice gym. No game lights. No crowd. Just a handful of teammates and the sickening sound of something tearing mid-step.

Silence followed. Then panic.

She was rushed to the emergency room not long after, her arm slung around a trainer’s shoulder, crutches waiting for her when she arrived. Her face was pale and tight with pain—the kind that doesn’t show up on a scoreboard but still changes everything.

The hours that followed blurred together. X-rays. MRIs. A too-quiet room and a diagnosis she already half knew. Complete tear. ACL. Surgery within the week. Minimum a year before she’d see the court again.

Paige didn’t cry when the words landed. Not when the doctor sighed through the prognosis, not when her mom arrived wide-eyed and frantic, not when the nurse handed her a thick folder labeled “Post-Op: ACL Reconstruction & Rehab.”

But in the hallway outside radiology, where no one was looking, she pulled her hoodie over her head and let the tears fall. Fast. Hot. Quiet.

Back in her dorm, her phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—messages pouring in from teammates, coaches, journalists, distant friends. She ignored them all.

All but one.

Incoming FaceTime: Azzi💗

Paige stared at the screen for a beat, wiped at her face, then answered.

Azzi’s face filled the frame, framed in soft lamplight from her room back home. She looked like she hadn’t moved in hours—eyes puffy, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands.

“Hey,” she said gently. “Are you okay?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, like speaking might make it worse. Finally, she gave a small, tight nod.

Azzi’s voice dropped. “What happened? Are you…?”

“It’s torn,” Paige whispered. “Completely.”

Azzi flinched like she’d been hit. Her hand came up to her mouth.

“God, Paige…”

“It wasn’t even a bad move. I just… stepped. It popped. Like that.” Paige snapped her fingers. The sound made her blink hard.

Azzi breathed out slow. “Where are you now?”

“Still at the hospital. They’re gonna discharge me soon.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was thick, alive with everything neither of them could say just yet. Azzi shifted on the couch, eyes locked on Paige’s face.

“I should be there,” she said suddenly. “I should be with you.”

���You are with me,” Paige murmured. “This helps. Really.”

Azzi shook her head. “I’m coming. I’ll change my flight. Be there tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she said, firm this time.

Paige exhaled, eyes slipping shut for a beat. “I was just starting to feel like everything was clicking, you know? Us. Ball. Life.”

Azzi’s voice cracked just slightly. “It still is. This doesn’t change that.”

For a moment, Paige just watched her through the screen like she could reach through it and feel Azzi’s steadiness for real.

And in a day full of fractures and free falls, that was the first thing that felt solid.

--------------------------

​​The next afternoon, Paige was exactly where Azzi expected to find her: curled up in bed, hoodie pulled over her head, blinds half-closed, TV flickering in the background but not really being watched.

The room smelled faintly of Icy Hot and frustration.

Azzi didn’t knock—just walked in with her duffel slung over her shoulder and a quiet sigh.

“I figured this is where I’d find you,” she said, setting her bag down and crossing to the bed.

Paige peeked out from under the hoodie. “Hi.”

“You look like a haunted blanket.”

“I feel like one,” Paige muttered.

Azzi didn’t smile. She sat at the edge of the bed, resting a hand on Paige’s shin, careful not to touch the brace. “You’ve been in this room since you got back?”

Paige shrugged.

Azzi stood. “Alright. Get up.”

Paige blinked. “What?”

“We’re going to get ice cream.”

Paige groaned and rolled over, burying her face again. “Azzi, no. I’m not in the mood. I look like I lost a fight with a robot knee.”

“You kind of did,” Azzi deadpanned. “Still not an excuse.”

Paige’s voice was muffled. “I’m in sweats. I haven’t washed my hair. I’m—”

“Nope,” Azzi cut in, already pulling open Paige’s drawer for a clean t-shirt. “You can sulk after your surgery. Your Stepmom and Dad and Drew will be here in two days. You’ll be doped up, stitched together, and sore as hell. That’s your sulking window. This? This is pre-sulk. You get ice cream during pre-sulk.”

Paige lifted her head just enough to squint at her. “Is that an actual medical term?”

Azzi tossed the t-shirt at her. “Get changed. I’m driving. And yes, it’s medically backed by the Azzi Fudd Protocol for Temporary Joy and Controlled Wallowing.”

Paige couldn’t help it—she smiled, just a little. “You’re annoying.”

“Yup. And exactly what you need.”

A few minutes later, they were out the door—Paige slowly, carefully, Azzi at her side without hovering too much. It was hot outside again, and the walk to the car took longer than usual, but Paige didn’t complain.

Not once.

And when they finally got their cones—Paige’s favorite, cookie dough with rainbow sprinkles, and Azzi’s classic chocolate soft serve—the world didn’t feel fixed, exactly.

But it didn’t feel broken beyond repair either.

Paige leaned back in the passenger seat, cone half-melted, and looked over at Azzi.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

Azzi looked over. “For what?”

“For getting me up.”

Azzi bumped her shoulder gently. “That’s what I’m here for.”

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky by the time they pulled away from the ice cream shop, painting the world in that soft, honey-gold August light. The kind of heat that didn’t press so hard anymore, just lingered like a memory.

Azzi had the windows halfway down, the breeze rolling in warm and slow. Her curls fluttered against her cheeks, and the air smelled like cut grass and pavement.

Paige had her seat reclined just enough, her brace propped awkwardly against the dashboard, cone in one hand, the other lazily out the window. Her hair was tied back, hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows, looking worn out but a little more herself.

SZA played low through the speakers—"Good Days" drifting through the car like it had been waiting for this exact drive. Neither of them talked. They didn’t need to.

They just vibed.

The kind of quiet that didn’t ask for anything. That made space for the ache, the healing, the pieces still in the process of rearranging.

Azzi drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, nodding softly to the beat, eyes on the road ahead. Paige glanced over at her, and for a moment, she wasn’t thinking about surgery, or recovery, or the months she’d be stuck watching from the sidelines.

She was just here.

In this car.

With her.

Late summer sun dancing through the trees, SZA humming about trying to be present, and Azzi—steady, calm, there.

“I missed this,” Paige said, voice barely above the music.

Azzi looked over, smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Azzi reached out and gently laced their fingers together over the center console. Still watching the road, still driving, but grounding them both in something wordless and warm.

They didn’t say anything else for a while.

They just let the music carry them home.

----------------------

The hotel room was dim, the curtains half-drawn against the late afternoon sun. The air smelled faintly of takeout and antiseptic, and the soft clicking of an iPad game was the only thing filling the space.

Drew sat cross-legged on the floor, headphones on, zoned out in his own world. Paige’s dad and stepmom had just stepped out to grab food, leaving the room quiet except for the occasional grumble from the bed.

Paige was propped up on a mountain of pillows, her post-op brace elevated, eyes narrowed at the ceiling like it had personally offended her.

Azzi knocked once before slipping in quietly. She was in a crewneck and shorts, tote bag over her shoulder, and a soft look in her eyes the second she saw Paige’s face.

“Hey, soldier,” she said gently, dropping the bag by the door. “How’s our fearless leader?”

Paige let out a grunt. “Our fearless leader wants to throw her leg into a lake.”

Azzi chuckled and crossed the room, settling on the edge of the bed. “You’d sink like a rock with that brace.”

“I’d take sinking over this pain.”

Azzi gave her a sympathetic look and nudged her lightly. “You look like a grumpy burrito.”

“I feel like a grumpy burrito.”

There was a short silence. Azzi tilted her head.

“You want a back rub?”

Paige blinked, surprised. “Seriously?”

Azzi nodded, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah. Might help. Or at least distract you from the stabbing pain in your leg.”

Paige hesitated, then gave a sheepish little nod. “Okay… yeah. That actually sounds nice.”

“Alright. Scoot down, grumpy.”

Paige winced as she shifted, slowly lowering herself onto her stomach with a grimace. She moved carefully, breath catching every time she adjusted her brace or tugged at her pillow. Once she finally got there, she let her head drop into her arms with a sigh.

Azzi sat open-legged behind her and started rubbing gentle circles into her back—firm enough to loosen the tension, soft enough not to jostle anything too much.

“God, your hands are magic,” Paige mumbled into the pillow.

“I know.”

The room was quiet again, except for Drew’s game. Paige’s shoulders started to loosen. Her breathing slowed a little.

After a few minutes, Azzi let her fingers trail up into Paige’s hair, scratching gently at her scalp the way she knew Paige liked.

And sure enough, not long after, Paige let out a small sigh… and fell completely asleep in Azzi’s lap.

Azzi looked down at her—mouth slightly open, a little bit of drool threatening the hotel pillow—and couldn’t help the grin that pulled across her face.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, angled it just right, and snapped a picture of Paige knocked out cold in the most dramatic, snuggly way possible.

📸 Sent to Team Group Chat

Azzi: mother has passed out after 3 minutes of attention 🙄 [photo attachment]

Nika: AWWWWW LOOK AT THIS BIG BABY Aaliyah: not her needing cuddles to survive 😭😭 Caroline✂️: someone make this the team poster Nika: we need this printed and framed for the locker room Azzi: no one is safe in this group chat Aaliyah: tell her when she wakes up she still owes me $5 from the Waffle House bet

Azzi shook her head, still smiling, and gently pulled the blanket up over Paige’s shoulders. Paige stirred just slightly, then relaxed again, face nuzzled deeper into Azzi’s leg.

And for the first time all week, everything felt a little lighter.

--------------------

Later That Evening – Hotel Room

The room was suddenly full of noise, laughter, and limbs. Someone had propped open the door with a sneaker, and now the entire squad was crammed inside like it was a dorm lounge, not a midsize hotel suite.

Caroline had brought snacks. Aaliyah had brought board games no one was going to play. Aubrey was already perched on the windowsill eating half a bag of popcorn. Nika walked in like she owned the place, flopped onto the edge of Paige’s bed, and dramatically fluffed the pillows behind her.

Paige, still stiff and sore from surgery but in a noticeably better mood, had on fresh sweats and her leg propped up like a queen holding court. Drew sat on the floor in front of the TV, only halfway interested in the new crowd.

“I feel like a zoo animal,” Paige said, grinning despite herself.

“You are a zoo animal,” Nika replied. “You’ve been on the injured list for less than a week and already everyone’s babying you.”

“She just had surgery,” Caroline pointed out, offering Paige a gummy worm from a massive bag.

“She also fell asleep in Azzi’s lap like a toddler,” Nika said with a wicked little smirk.

Paige blinked. “Wait. What?”

The room paused. Aaliyah coughed into her fist. Aubrey made a sound like a tea kettle trying not to boil over.

“Oh no,” Caroline muttered under her breath.

“What do you mean?” Paige asked, eyes narrowing.

“Ohhhh no no no,” Nika said gleefully, already pulling out her phone. “I forgot you didn’t see it—hold up, I got you.”

“See what?”

Aubrey scooted over and handed Paige her phone instead, screen already pulled up.

On it: a photo of Paige completely knocked out, face smushed into a pillow, drooling slightly, laying across Azzi’s lap like a very cozy, very unconscious golden retriever.

There was a beat of total silence.

Paige’s face slowly turned toward the back corner of the room.

Azzi was standing there by the door, sipping a LaCroix and very much not making eye contact.

Paige narrowed her eyes. “You took that?”

Azzi just smiled—mischievous, innocent, entirely unapologetic. “You looked peaceful.”

“You sent it to the group chat.”

“I shared a moment,” Azzi replied, suppressing a laugh. “A vulnerable, adorable moment.”

Everyone erupted with laughter.

“Don’t worry,” Aaliyah said, patting Paige’s shoulder. “We only roasted you for, like, fifteen minutes.”

“Seventeen,” Nika corrected. “And I do want to print it.”

“You people are lucky I can’t walk without a crutch,” Paige muttered, trying—and failing—to hide her smile.

Azzi raised her can. “To cuddles and chaos.”

And somehow, in the middle of pain meds, group chat slander, and a dozen bodies squeezed into one too-small hotel room, Paige felt more like herself than she had in days.

Eventually, the chaos had to end.

The team slowly started gathering their things—empty snack bags stuffed into the trash, shoes pulled back on, phones buzzing with texts from group chats and coaches.

“Alright, we’re outta here before we all get kicked out by hotel security,” Nika said, stretching like she’d just run a marathon. “Later, Patient Zero.”

Aaliyah leaned down and hugged Paige gently around the shoulders. “Rest up. I better see you on crutches courtside by next week. You’re not skipping film sessions just ‘cause you’ve got a robot leg.”

Caroline waved from the door. “We’ll bring real food next time.”

Aubrey gave Paige a fist bump. “You were kind of cute drooling, not gonna lie.”

“Get out of my room,” Paige groaned, laughing despite herself.

One by one, they filed out, calling goodbyes over their shoulders. Azzi lingered behind, near the TV where Drew was still posted up with his iPad, legs swinging idly off the edge of the bed.

She crouched beside him. “Hey, Drew.”

He looked up, headphones around his neck now. “Yeah?”

“Thanks for hanging out tonight. You kept the vibes chill.”

Drew gave her a lopsided smile. “Paige always gets grumpy when she’s hurt. You made her less grumpy.”

Azzi grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment. G’night, bud.”

“Night.”

She stood, crossed the room to where Paige was reclined in bed, already looking sleepier than she probably wanted to admit. Her hair was messy, a heating pad resting across her shoulders, eyes heavy with pain meds and exhaustion.

Azzi leaned in close, lowering her voice just for her.

“We’ll get through this.”

Paige met her gaze, eyes soft. “Promise?”

Azzi brushed a hand gently against Paige’s cheek, then pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Promise.”

Paige didn’t say anything else—just let her eyes fall closed, mouth relaxed, her whole body finally starting to let go.

Azzi pulled the blanket a little higher, then quietly slipped out the door.

The highway was quiet, the sky above streaked in purple and deep blue. Azzi’s phone was on speaker, resting in the passenger seat, connected to the car’s Bluetooth.

Caroline’s voice crackled through the speakers. “She looked good tonight. For, you know… being post-op and mildly drugged.”

Azzi kept one hand on the wheel, the other fiddling with a ring on her thumb. “She’s holding it together in front of everyone. But when it’s just us? It’s hitting her hard.”

“Yeah. Figured.”

“She hasn’t said it out loud, not really,” Azzi continued, voice soft. “But I can tell. She’s scared. Angry. All of it.”

Caroline was quiet for a second. “She’ll get through it.”

“I know. But she’s not great at letting people carry stuff for her.”

“You’re there,” Caroline said. “That counts for more than you think.”

Azzi glanced out the window at the blur of streetlights. “I just wish I could do more.”

“You’re doing everything right.”

The silence that followed was easy. Comfortable.

And somewhere, behind her, Paige was asleep in a too-firm hotel bed, with her team, her family, and Azzi holding down the edges of her world.

-----------------------

The Chipotle line was long, as usual. The smell of grilled chicken and cilantro rice filled the air, and Paige had her crutches tucked under one arm while she waited for her burrito bowl, wearing UConn warmups like she was still suiting up.

Azzi stood beside her, scanning the menu she already had memorized, hoodie pulled up halfway over her head.

“You nervous?” Paige asked, bumping her gently with her elbow.

Azzi exhaled through her nose. “Not really nervous. Just… focused.”

Paige gave her a knowing side-eye. “You always say that when you’re nervous.”

Azzi didn’t deny it. She just shrugged.

“Hey,” Paige said, her voice softening. “You’ve been killing it. You’ve stepped up in every way this season. Today’s just another day to show people what we already know.”

Azzi glanced over. “You mean what you know.”

“I mean what we all know. You’ve got this. You just gotta stop waiting for permission to lead.”

Azzi blinked at that, letting it land.

“I’m trying,” she said after a beat. “Trying to believe I belong in that role. That I’m not just holding the space for you while you’re out.”

Paige leaned closer, lowering her voice. “You’re not holding space, Az. You’re owning it. And I’m proud of you.”

Before Azzi could answer, a voice cut in from behind them.

“Excuse me? Are you… Azzi Fudd and Paige Bueckers?”

They both turned to see a teenage girl in a Huskies hoodie and her mom behind her, holding a phone.

Azzi smiled. “Yeah, that’s us.”

“Could I maybe… get a picture with you? I’m a huge fan.”

“Of course,” Paige said instantly.

Azzi leaned down, smiling as the girl beamed between them. The mom snapped the photo, thanked them about three times, and they waved goodbye as the two walked off.

Back in line, Azzi glanced at Paige. “I never know what to do with my hands in pictures.”

“You looked fine. I was the one holding crutches like a confused flamingo.”

They grabbed their food and headed out to the car, the mood still light. Once inside, Azzi started driving, weaving them out of the parking lot and toward the arena.

Silence settled for a few moments, the kind of comfortable pause that always existed between them. Then Paige spoke up again.

“You know, you lead even when you don’t try. People trust you because of how you move. How you care.”

Azzi kept her eyes on the road, fingers tightening slightly on the wheel.

“I just don’t wanna fake it,” she said quietly. “I want it to be real. Earned.”

“It is,” Paige said. “Every second of it. You’re not stepping into my shoes. You’re walking in your own.”

Azzi smiled a little. “You’re getting really good at this motivational speech stuff.”

“Yeah, well,” Paige grinned. “Not being able to play leaves a lot of time for monologues.”

They turned into the arena lot, security waving them through. Azzi pulled into their usual spot, put the car in park, and took a breath.

“You’re ready,” Paige said again, voice steady.

Azzi nodded, grabbed her gym bag from the back seat, and turned to her.

“Let’s go win a game.”

The arena was buzzing with the kind of electricity only gameday could bring. The air was thick with anticipation as fans packed into the stands, the Huskies' bench a hub of activity, and the announcer's voice echoing over the speakers as the teams took the court. Azzi stepped out onto the floor with a quiet focus, her eyes scanning the crowd, the noise, the movement — it was all part of the rhythm now. Her nerves were gone, replaced by that familiar adrenaline.

Paige, sitting courtside with her crutches, gave her a reassuring nod from the sidelines, her presence like a quiet anchor in the chaos.

The ball tipped off, and from the get-go, Azzi was a force. Every possession, she attacked with precision and poise, moving with a fluidity that looked effortless, but beneath it all was the drive of someone who had spent every waking moment preparing for this.

By halftime, she had already racked up 16 points — a mix of smooth jump shots, aggressive drives to the basket, and some slick passing to keep the defense guessing. She was pulling off moves that had the crowd on their feet, cheering louder with every made shot.

Lou was on fire as well, working with Azzi like a well-oiled machine, creating space, knocking down threes, and finishing strong under the basket. She added 17 points to the board, her energy contagious as she sprinted up and down the court, pushing the tempo and making Northeastern’s defense scramble.

Aaliyah wasn’t far behind, showing off her quick thinking and athleticism. With 14 points, she was crucial in keeping the game out of reach for Northeastern, hitting timely shots, and dishing out assists like a true floor general.

Azzi’s highlight of the game came in the third quarter. With just under five minutes left, she pulled off a steal on the perimeter, sprinted down the court, and finished with a fast-break layup that had the crowd roaring. It was an exclamation point on an already incredible game, showing just how much she was able to take control of the tempo.

On the defensive end, she wasn’t slowing down either. Her anticipation for steals was uncanny, getting in passing lanes and forcing turnovers. By the fourth quarter, Northeastern’s offense had no answers for her. Every time they thought they had a rhythm, Azzi was there to disrupt it.

The final buzzer sounded, and the scoreboard read UConn 85, Northeastern 67.

Azzi finished with an impressive 26 points — a career-high for her, while Lou and Aaliyah combined for a solid 31 between them. The win felt good, but it wasn’t just the points or the victory that stood out. It was the way they had come together as a team, with Azzi stepping up and showing the world just how much she had grown into the role of leader.

On the sidelines, Paige was grinning, her eyes locked on Azzi, proud and beaming as she watched her teammate shine.

Azzi jogged off the court, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins, high-fiving teammates and coaches as they congratulated her. When she finally made her way over to the bench, Paige gave a pat on the butt.

"You killed it," Paige said, her voice a mix of admiration and pride.

Azzi laughed, breathless but glowing. “Couldn’t have done it without Lou and Aaliyah.”

"Still, you led us," Paige said, her voice carrying that quiet reverence that Azzi was just starting to get used to.

“Yeah,” Azzi grinned, feeling the weight of the moment. “Feels pretty damn good.”

----------------------------------

The local bar, Ted’s, was buzzing with energy. Music pulsed through the speakers, and the familiar chatter of UConn students filled the space. The team had claimed their victory, and now it was time to let loose and enjoy the night. The table was surrounded by smiling faces, a mix of teammates and friends, each of them still riding the high of the game.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, one hand wrapped around her drink, and the other resting on the table. Paige was seated beside her, as always, her crutches leaning against the booth as she sat with a grin that could have lit up the whole place.

"26 points, Azzi!" Caroline said, raising her glass in a toast. "You were on fire tonight!"

Azzi laughed, a little embarrassed by all the attention. "Thanks, but it’s not just me. We all killed it."

"Yeah, well, you were the one putting them in the basket," Paige teased, nudging her. "Don’t be humble, you earned it."

Azzi smiled at her, but there was a flicker of worry in her eyes as she glanced at Paige. "You good with those crutches? Need any help?"

Paige rolled her eyes but laughed. "Chill, Az. I’m good. I’m off these crutches in a week anyway."

"You sure?" Azzi pressed, still looking concerned. "You know I’ve got your back, right?"

Paige reached out, squeezing Azzi’s hand. "I know. I’m fine. Tonight’s about you. Have fun. Don’t worry about me."

Caroline raised her drink again. "She’s right! You deserve this, Azzi. You’ve been putting in the work. It’s your night to shine."

Azzi felt her face warm. "Alright, alright," she relented, shaking her head. "I’ll try to enjoy myself."

The group kept celebrating, chatting, and laughing, the table overflowing with pitchers of beer and shared plates of fries and wings. But as the night went on, Azzi couldn’t fully shake the feeling that she needed to keep an eye on Paige. She kept glancing at her, making sure the crutches weren’t too much of a hassle, that she wasn’t pushing herself too hard.

"I’m serious, Azzi," Paige said, catching her looking again. "Chill out. You’re making me feel like I’m 90 or something. I can take care of myself."

Azzi just nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to let go of the concern. The celebration was about the team, the victory, the bond they had built.

But before long, the mood shifted. Nika, always the wild card, was laughing loudly at something Aaliyah had said when her face suddenly went pale. She put her hand over her mouth and excused herself from the table.

"Uh-oh," Lou said, narrowing her eyes. "Nika’s about to lose it."

Azzi's eyes darted to Nika, who was now heading toward the bathroom, looking like she was about to puke.

"Great," Azzi muttered, getting up from the table. "I'll go check on her."

As Azzi made her way to the bathroom, she heard Nika’s voice groaning from the inside. "I can’t believe I’m doing this… again."

Azzi knocked gently on the door. "Nika? You okay?"

A muffled response came. "I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute."

Azzi waited outside, glancing back to the table where the rest of the team was still laughing and enjoying the night. But her mind was on Nika, and on making sure she was okay. After a few minutes, the door finally opened, and Nika stepped out, looking a little green but otherwise okay.

"Alright, let's get you home," Azzi said, wrapping an arm around Nika to help steady her.

The rest of the team continued celebrating at the table, but Azzi was focused on getting Nika back to her dorm. As they made their way toward the door, Azzi spotted Paige, who was still seated, grinning up at her.

"You good?" Paige asked, noticing the way Azzi was hovering around Nika.

"Yeah, just making sure Nika doesn’t faceplant in the parking lot," Azzi replied, trying to keep her tone light.

"Take care of her," Paige said with a wink. "I’ll be fine."

Azzi gave her a quick nod and then headed out with Nika. They made their way across campus, walking slowly since Nika was still a little unsteady. Nika leaned into Azzi as they walked, resting her head on her shoulder.

"I should never drink again," Nika muttered, and Azzi couldn’t help but laugh.

"You say that every time," Azzi teased. "And yet, here we are."

When they reached Nika's apartment, Azzi helped her inside, making sure she got to her room safely. As they walked up the stairs, Azzi spotted a familiar door — Paige’s room.

Azzi paused for a second, glancing at Nika. "You good here? Need anything?"

Nika waved her off, already heading for her bed. "I’m good. Thanks for the rescue."

Azzi stepped into the cozy living space that Paige and Nika shared. The place had the usual college dorm vibe—messy but lived-in, with half-packed bags from the earlier game and leftover pizza boxes scattered around. The walls were covered with posters, pictures, and a few random mementos from their last tournament.

Azzi took a deep breath, glad the night had ended on a high note despite the chaos. She scanned the room, her eyes landing on Nika, who was trying to balance herself on the couch after the late-night drinking fiasco.

“Hey, I got her home safe,” Azzi said with a smile. "She’s fine now."

Lou, who had been helping Nika, shot her a knowing look. "Yeah, but someone is going to pay for this tomorrow," Lou teased, glancing at Nika. “I’ll leave you two alone, though. I’ve got plans.”

Azzi chuckled as Lou waved goodbye, stepping out the door. It didn’t take long for Paige to shuffle into the living room, leaning on Lou for support.

“Thanks, Lou. I’ll text you tomorrow,” Paige said as Lou headed out, then turned toward Azzi with a tired smile. "Hey, you made it."

Azzi raised an eyebrow at Paige. “You okay? You look like you just walked through a battle zone.”

Paige gave a tired shrug. “I’ll be alright. Can’t believe I’m still on these crutches.”

“Yeah, but you’re about to be back on your feet in no time,” Azzi reassured, walking over to Paige and gently taking the crutches from her. “You good to get to your room?”

“Yeah, I think I can manage,” Paige said, though it was clear she wasn’t completely sure. With a little help from Azzi, she carefully made her way down the hall, leaning against the wall for balance.

Once in the room, Paige turned to Azzi with a mischievous grin. “So, you want to spend the night? I mean, we could make it a real victory night.”

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh at how casual Paige was. “Sure, why not?”

They both changed into comfy PJs—Azzi opting for oversized sweats and a UConn hoodie, while Paige slipped into a loose T-shirt and shorts. The room felt more relaxed, the energy lighter now that the game was behind them.

“Want to put on Love & Basketball?” Paige asked, tossing a glance at the TV. “It’s tradition.”

Azzi snorted. “Of course, big head,” she said, teasing.

Paige laughed, shooting her a side-eye. “Alright, alright. Look who’s getting a big head after their game tonight. I see how it is.”

Azzi put her hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, you were telling me to brag more, so now I’m taking your advice. And let’s be real, the game was yours too.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but there was a soft smile on her face as she made herself comfortable on the bed. "I know you scored, but you really did carry the team."

Azzi shrugged, settling beside her. “I’d say we carried each other. But I’m glad to finally get to brag a little bit. You should try it sometime.”

“I do brag," Paige teased, punching her lightly in the arm. "I just don't go around talking about it every two seconds."

They bantered back and forth as the movie started, the familiar lines of Love & Basketball filling the room. Paige slowly relaxed into the moment, her head resting on Azzi’s shoulder as they watched.

Before long, the conversation fizzled out. The combination of the movie, the warmth of the room, and Azzi’s gentle presence made Paige’s eyes grow heavy. She let out a quiet sigh, her breathing becoming slow and even.

Azzi noticed that Paige had fallen asleep with her head still resting on her shoulder, her hand lightly curled around Azzi’s arm. A small, affectionate smile tugged at Azzi’s lips as she looked down at Paige, clearly at ease in her arms.

Azzi shifted slightly, just enough to get comfortable, but she didn’t want to wake Paige. She closed her eyes too, letting the exhaustion from the game and the celebration seep in, allowing herself to drift off.

The sunlight streaming through the window was soft, and Azzi’s eyes fluttered open as she stirred, the bed feeling warmer than usual. She realized she had fallen asleep in the same position as Paige, who was now lightly snoring in her arms, curled against her.

A soft knock interrupted the quiet morning.

“Nika?” Azzi mumbled, her voice still thick with sleep.

There was no response, only the door creaking open slightly.

Nika’s head poked around the corner, a mischievous grin on her face. “Well, well, look who’s finally asleep.” She saw the two of them snuggled up and, with a knowing grin, quietly snapped a picture.

Azzi’s eyes snapped open when she heard the click of the camera. “Nika!” she hissed, sitting up quickly.

Nika just chuckled under her breath. “Don’t worry, big heads. I won’t send it to the team... yet.” She shook her head, clearly amused by what she saw, before she stepped back out of the room.

Azzi couldn’t help but smile as she heard Nika’s footsteps fade away. She glanced down at Paige, still asleep in her arms, and her heart softened. Maybe this was exactly what they both needed—time to rest, time to just be.

With a small sigh, Azzi settled back down, carefully pulling the blanket up over them both. It was a peaceful moment, one that felt like it could stretch on forever, but she knew reality would eventually break through.

For now, though, it was just them—Paige, Azzi, and a little piece of quiet.

[outtathisworld-imagines]

Fine line

——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x F!Reader

Warning: As much angst as there is fluff, mentions of needles/ medical environment, depression. Not proofread

A.N: Still very much holding sweet Bob in my heart 🥹🫶🏻 I feel like ‘Fine Line’ -which I recommend listening to while reading- was such a fitting song for this concept of Bob and the reader.

Lyrics are in bold italic!

Please let me know what else you guys would like! I do have a few other fics on the back-burner (for now!) that I'll start to post soon and just let me know if you'd liked to be tagged in further works too ✨

——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——☀️——

Put a price on emotion

I'm looking for something to buy

Bob mindlessly wandered the streets, smiling to himself seeing the brightly coloured souvenirs, the bustling streets and the noise that came with it. It’s the first time he can remember smiling in weeks.

Leaving home, trying to find himself and survive through his own bitter struggles, was a challenge to say the least.

That challenge was suddenly accepted by a smartly dressed man who handed him a business card telling him it would change his life. Bob had nothing left to lose, so believed him.

He sat in a cold, harsh, clinical room with others. He looked up, directly across to bouncing knees and a worried expression. He moved and sat beside the person riddled with as many nerves as he was.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“I don’t really know.” You replied. “I don’t usually get myself into things like this. I don’t really even know what I’ve signed up for!” You let a nervous laugh escape your lips.

“That’s alright, I’m in the same boat as you.” He admitted. “I’m Bob.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N.”

You shook hands and then the group was called into a room full of perfectly symmetrical beds and a vial of neon yellow liquid. You stayed next to Bob, even asking if you could hold his hand because you couldn’t bear the sight of the needle being brought to your arm. He sent you a soft smile, reaching across for your free hand and letting you tightly squeeze it as hard as you needed too.

Then for the two of you, everything went dark.

You've got my devotion

But man, I can hate you sometimes

Bob woke up in a bright room, his head throbbing and his limbs aching. He didn’t know how long he was out for this time and hated himself for it. Every time he was injected he would blackout, unaware of what was happening to him and his world.

He hated that, almost the same as he hated himself most days.

He did have one constant. Someone who made the days bearable. Someone who made the hate towards himself disappear whenever he saw the smile on your face.

A smile solely for him.

He helped you through the torment of being injected with the neon yellow liquid.

You helped him laugh again.

The two of you formed a close bond within the confines of the lab masked as a hospital ward, especially as the number of people dwindled down. You assumed the worst. You were told they withdrew. But you still had Bob.

“It was always my goal in life to have as much confidence as the ‘Florida man’ you see on the articles.” You told him one night, late after dinner when it was just the two of you in the soulless shared space they had made for you all to ‘relax’. You brought his long forgotten State into the conversation.

He laughed so much he cried, you could singlehandedly bring soul to that soulless room. He let out a relaxed sigh and let his hand fall to the void between your leg and his own, he looked down and saw his pinky involuntary stroke your thigh. You felt it before you saw it, subtly moving your own and intertwining your pinky with his.

In that very moment, Bob felt every painful thing he held inside of him disappear.

I don't want to fight you

And I don't wanna sleep in the dirt

As the weeks went on, the less people there were. There became a point where you and Bob just reached out for one another instead of asking or offering when they rolled around with the neon yellow serum. Despite the fact you got it daily, you still weren’t used to the poking and prodding of the needle. “Do you actually know what this is really for.” You asked one of the nurses who took your arm.

They remained silent and you turned your head to Bob “They can’t tell us, Bob.” You said with a mischievous smile. “They must be making us into superhero’s or somethi- AH!” With a wince you gripped onto his hand tighter feeling the sharp pinch in your arm before the world went dark.

“You okay?” A voice in the darkness. It was Bob. You were lying on his lap as you came to. You tried to move but he held you down, insisting you rested. You complied and looked over to the empty room, the soulless space that now only held two hearts.

“Where is everyone?” You asked.

“Gone,” replied Bob. “Just me and you.” He took your hand, squeezing it hard like you had done on the first day. “Please don’t go.” He begged in a pleading tone.

You squeezed his hand back “I’ll always be here for you.”

We'll get the drinks in

So I'll get to thinking of her

Your body became weaker by the day, Bob could tell. However, he felt much the same. It was tedious and exhausting being a human Guinea pig and most days you were the only thing that kept his strength up.

A call in another room, unbeknownst to the both of you, would be a catalyst for something the world was never going to be ready for.

“Two remain.” A stoic, monotonous voice droned to the person at the end of the other line. “Both doing well. Both showing good signs of responding to the serum. Both very close to one another.”

A pause.

“I wonder what would happen if we separated them?”

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

“Congratulations.” One of the nurses approached you both one late afternoon as you and Bob were chatting. “You have both successfully completed your testing.”

You and Bob shared a brief, puzzled glance. “I don’t know if I feel any different?” You said your thought aloud.

“Me too,” Bob chimed in. “How can you tell?”

The nurse avoided the question “There is a meal being prepared for you both, it will give you all the vitamins and nutrients you’ll need to sustain you. The day after tomorrow is when you’ll be able to leave, after some further testing of course.”

You both looked at each other with a smile and shared a hug, Bob would have done a lot more of the nurse wasn’t standing in front of you.

“You did it!” You squeaked, hugging him again “I knew you would. I’m so proud of you, Bob.” Your lips were by his ear which meant you didn’t see the tear of joy slip down his cheek at your words.

That someone in the world was proud of him.

And that you kept your own- you were still there for him.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

“If I didn’t knew any better, this would be a date. But with hospital scrubs…” Bob joked from across the candlelit table as you were served dinner, tugging on the attire.

You raised an eyebrow “Are you suggesting we wear less clothes…?” You playfully retorted, causing him to choke on his water.

Bob nervously laughed “Sadly I think there’s too many cameras for that.” You both shared a giggle.

“Maybe if there was a lot less eyes on us, huh,” you spoke under your breath but he could hear you clearly. Tension suddenly flooded the room, as if the truth was sitting at the invisible chair at the table.

“Maybe, once we get out of here,” Bob nervously toyed with his napkin “Just maybe we could…”

“Take on the world?” You said with a smile, you could tell he was nervously searching for the right words. You reached across and held his hand, just as he had held yours throughout the god knows how long you had both been there. “Just maybe I think we could. And maybe with less hospital scrubs.”

After dinner you both walked back to your rooms, your routine tomorrow would be a different one. Neither of you knowing if it would be good or bad, but knowing you’d still have each other which was enough to face whatever they would throw at you.

“Well…” Bob stopped at your room door. “Goodnight Y/N.” He stayed there for a moment, his lingering made you smile. Then he leaned forward and quickly pecked you on the cheek.

He wondered if he had crossed the fine line that he mentally drew. That you weren’t ready to cross it into something more. Something more with him. Nerves bubbled in his stomach until you spoke up.

“You missed.” Quietly and with conviction. Bob raised a brow in silent question. “I said…” you leaned forward, capturing his lips with your own. “You missed.”

Pulling back, you saw his grin spreading across his whole face.

“Goodnight, Bob. See you in the morning.” You disappeared into your room.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

Bob sat on the bed as someone took his blood pressure and someone took notes. “Uh, is Y/N going to be here anytime soon?” He said looking to the tray of medical instruments, one of them being a needle and a vial to draw blood. “Only because she really hates needles and needs me to hold her hand.”

The two in the room shared a glance. The one with the board placing it down and looking at him empathetically, not quite sympathetically.

“I’m sorry, Mr Reynolds.” They began and Bobs stomach dropped, lorn seeping into his veins. “Miss Y/L/N unfortunately don’t make it through this process. She became very unwell and-“

“No…” Bob choked out, barely above a whisper.

“She didn’t-“

“No!” Bob began to break down, his now bright heart- thanks to you shining on it- suddenly became dark.

“We tried-“

“NO!”

With a scream his world collapsed into nothing but darkness. The light of his life was gone and his whole world plunged into nothing but a void.

Test of my patience

There's things that we'll never know

Bob didn’t know how much time had passed.

How much time he lost.

He didn’t know what on Earth was happening in the world, or when it came to him.

He didn’t want to know.

As far as he was concerned, the only thing that was worth living for in this world was gone.

He let them test away, always looking over for a hand to hold.

One that wasn’t there anymore.

One day he was given a clear serum. His eyes closed over and he saw nothing but darkness. That was until he fell from a box into a room full of fighting people. They stood looking at him in hospital scrubs, his foggy memory didn’t help anyone either.

That was until the sun shone on him once again.

“B-Bob…?”

That voice.

He wondered if he had died and that’s why he was hearing it. “Is that really you?”

There you were. Standing in hospital scrubs with glossy eyes.

“Y/N? B-but how?!” He ran over to you, scooping you up in his arms.

“I don’t think we have time for a reunion!” A man with a shield chided the pair of you as he and two others frantically searched for an exit. You saw a body on the floor and knew better than to question it.

“They told me you didn’t make it.” You gripped onto him tightly, still not believing that he was in front of you. Bob pulled back, hazily remembering they had told him the same.

“Let’s just get out of here. We can chit chat later!” A girl with blonde hair ushered you both hurriedly before the room was set alight. All of you narrowly escaping.

Bobs hand remained holding yours.

When you all made it out and to the van, they pushed you and Bob in the back. He gripped your wrists with tears welling in his eyes at the sight of you again. But with the trouble you had all suddenly had found themselves in, he knew he had to keep you safe one more time.

And that meant letting your hand go.

You sunshine, you temptress

My hand's at risk, I fold

Your lungs burned from how loud you screamed, begging him not to go. Not wanting to lose him for a second time, not when you had just gotten him back.

He selflessly risked it all for you and the group of three mysterious people he had just met.

The one you came to know as Ava, held you in her arms as you all drove away.

Your eyes spilling so many tears, you didn’t see Bobs potential. What had happened to him from that neon yellow serum.

You weren’t around to hear Valentina ask what you both could do. What her band of nurses and doctors unlocked within you both.

“Night and day.” She was told. “He is the night and she is the day.”

Crisp trepidation

I'll try to shake this soon

When you reached the Watchtower, seeing Valentina, she sent you a smile that made you ill. Like she knew more about you than you did yourself.

You felt since briefly reuniting and then losing Bob again, being bound by another person called Bucky, which you later realised was the Winter Soldier, and now with a group of newfound allies surrounding the woman responsible for your unknown length of torment- was something almost as emotionally nerving as you being tested on. “You my dear, are just so special.” She said pointing to you. “Just as special as Robert…” she motioned to the stairs and your jaw dropped and your eyes widened at the very different (and suddenly blonde) Bob.

A far cry of who you knew.

“I made you both special.” She proudly admitted. “Meet Sentry. He’s going to ensure the security of this world. All powerful. Just like you.”

You felt the eyes of the team surrounding you suddenly lock on to your figure. “What are you talking about?” You asked.

She chuckled “You don’t remember? You burned brighter than the sun at one point.” You blinked, blithely unaware of her claims.

“Enough of this,” Bucky muttered and in a blink of an eye, Bob protected Valentina. You felt your body float before crashing against the wall, you couldn’t find the strength to pick yourself up again and fell to the floor, dipping in and out of consciousness. Rubble falling in front of you and trapping you there.

It was only when they were in the elevator after being tossed, punched and beaten, did Yelena yelp out.

“Where’s Y/N?!”

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you

“Bob, stop,” you summoned enough strength to quietly beg from your trapped corner as he had Valentina against the wall.

That was until a woman walked in and pressed a button, making him fall to the floor with a sudden thud.

“No,” you sobbed. “Please not again.” The sunlight quickly dried your tears into your cheeks. Your fingertips tingling with an unknown feeling before you blinked and saw a shadow of what was once your hand-holder lying lifeless on the floor.

Your eyes opened and closed frantically, you saw sparks flash with each blink.

That was before you saw Bob again. In what looked like a well-lived in bedroom. “Is this real?” You asked, now able to walk and looking down at your suddenly unscathed body.

“Yes. No? I don’t really know.” He admitted. “But I’d like it of you held my hand.” You sat down next to him and did just that.

“Did you die…?” You asked with a trembling voice and a tear slipping from your eye.

Bob pursed his lips “After I was told you were gone back in the lab, I became a shadow of myself. I became a void.” He told you. “It’s always been there. I got even more alone after you were ripped from me and it took advantage of that.”

“Valentina was right,” you quietly spoke and your head hung in shame. “I remember. When I was told about you, I burst. Like a supernova. I let out so much light it burned everyone and everything that surrounded me.”

Bob let out a dry, humourless grunt under his breath, one that made your features quip.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

“We are much the opposite.” He said.

“The star the night sky, I guess you could say.” You solidified his choice of words.

His hand squeezed around yours.

That’s when it clicked for you.

“You have to let go of my hand.” You told him. As much as you didn’t want to. But you knew what you needed to do.

“I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let you go”. He pleaded with you, holding onto you tighter.

You sent him a smile in order to reassure his worry. For a moment it eased him.

“Okay.” You said and leaned forward, taking you both by surprise when you kissed him. Bob melted against your lips with a smile.

He didn’t feel your hand slip from his.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

You opened your eyes, clutching your chest and gasping at the burning feeling brewing inside your body.

Glancing up from your corner, now enveloped in darkness, you saw a figure with glowing eyes hovering above the city.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

You felt a newfound strength, your body suddenly glowing and floating above the floor.

It was time to show the world, and the void that had his clutches on Bob, just how bright you could shine.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

You floated through the air and firmly remained in your spot seeing the darkness that consumed him.

“You got out.” It sounded confused.

“I just had to hold your hand.” You confessed.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

It tried to push you away, mustering as much power as it could to dim your brightness.

But it couldn’t

You reached your hand out and burned brighter than the sun and the stars in the sky.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

“You won’t take him from me again.” You yelled, burning brighter and gripped onto its hand tightly before wrapping it up in your arms. “We are going to take on the world.” You said.

“What makes you so sure?” The darkness tried to fight you.

But you outshone it.

“Because I said I’ll always be there for him.”

We'll be alright

Your eyes opened, the blue sky almost blinding you.

You felt a weight in your hand and turned your head.

Bob was lying there. Your Bob. Looking at you with his hand in yours.

“Thanks for holding my hand.”

You let out a broken laugh at his words and rolled over, pressing a kiss to his mouth as the world filled with light and the shadows were casted away.

We'll be alright

Since that day, the two of you were inseparable.

The team helped you both control your powers and embraced you both with open arms.

And most importantly, you always had a hand to hold and Bob always had someone there for him.

We'll be a fine line

We'll be a fine line

It was when he was holding your hand that he finally asked you to be his girlfriend.

The moment you said yes, you could hear the team cheer for you both.

We'll be alright (alright, alright, alright)

He held your hand through your sleepless nights.

He held your hand each time you shone like he had his own personal sun.

He held your hand when he made love to you.

He held your hand when you were scared.

He held your hand when you laughed.

He held your hand when you cried.

We'll be alright

Bob loved having your head resting on his lap, almost as much as he loved holding your hand. He gently caressed your cheek, trying to calm his nerves. It was his idea to have a picnic one summer afternoon. You enjoyed the warmth of the sun on your skin, and the smell of the wildflowers that surrounded you both, and the sound of the birds in the sky.

“Are you okay?” You asked, worry laced in your voice, noticing he wasn’t being himself.

“We’ve been together for a while now, huh?” He softly smiled and you needed in agreement, sitting up and crossing your legs.

“We have, we’ve certainly taken on the world- just like we said we would.”

“And then some.” Bob added, twiddling his fingers.

“Hand in hand,” you took his fidgeting fingers in your own.

That was before he pulled back, reaching into his pocket for something he had kept well hidden for months and propping himself up on one knee.

We'll be alright

“Will you take my hand again, but this time in marriage?”

[beef-brisket]

((Sorry this took a hot second, I had to reread things 😂))

Holy shit. He couldn't believe it. Could this work in his favour?

The first man continued to eat his pancakes but occasionally looked up at Lucifer. When he saw his angels, eyebrows furrowed, and he got the sinking feeling again. Like he was drowning. Like something bad was happening and there was nothing he could di to stop it.

Adam: Luci? Are you okay?

The kimg continued to stare at the letter before finally snapping out of it and smiled at Adam: Uh- fine! Fine, buddy! Don't worry about me- how are you pancakes? Still good?

Adam laughed: Luci, I already told you I liked them! I can tell some things wrong... you get that look on your face- your eyebrow twitches when somethings wrong!

With wide eyes, Lucifer touched his forehead, and sure enough, his eyebrow was twitching. He smiled softly. Of course, Adam would notice a detail like that about Lucifer.

Lucifer: I promise, Addie. Nothing's wrong- just... a letter.

Adam: A... letter? What's that?

Lucifer: Paper with writting-.

Adam: Paper?

Lucifer: ...I'll show you paper later on- but, for now, uh... just eat your pancakes, okay? And I'll be back in a minute- I need to see Charlie. Stay here, Adam. Promise me?

Adam smiled: I promise, Luci!

Lucifer kissed his forehead before teleporting out of the room. Adam started to eat his food again, enjoying the strange silence of the kitchen. That's when a shadow opened up, and out came the radio demon.

Alastor: Adam! There you are!

The first man coughed when he jumped as he was swallowing, but he still smiled up at Alastor.

Adam: Hi, deer man! How are you?

Alastor's smile twitched: How kind of you to ask. I'm... very well. But you, my deer fellow, won't be.

Adam: Uh... huh?

Alastor: If you keep eating that poor excuse of a plate of food.

Adam: But... Luci made these for me-.

Alastor: Pancakes are... below average in general. But MY cooking, on the other hand...

Adam: You cook?

The demon almost smirked when Adam smiled widely: Why, certainly! Would you like to try some?

When Adam nodded and moved his plate of pancakes to the side, Alastor snapped his fingers, and a plate of meat and vegetables appeared in front him.

Alastor: Now, this was scored locally, my deer! All products on your plate were brought from Cannibal town! At one of the prized butchers!

Adam: Wow! I have no idea what any of that means- but it sounds good! And smells good! So... it has to be good!

Alastor: Exactly! How about you have a taste, and tell me what you think~.

-

Charlie reached up, putting away some files when she heard a loud groan, making her pull her papers close to her chest. Spinning around, her eyes locked with her father, who was leaning against her desk.

Charlie: Dad?! You scared me...! What's wrong?

Lucifer: C-Chaaaarlie- Heaven! Heaven want a meeting!

Charlie: Oh... dad, we knew this day would come-.

Lucifer: It's about Adam!

Charlie: ...Oh. that's... not good.

Lucifer: They said he's dead! They don't know he's alive- and I want to keep it that way!

Charlie: Dad, you can't choose that! Adam should get a say, shouldn't he?

Lucifer looked up from the desk: Charlie. Apple. Duckling- Adam can't make choices like that! If something stresses him too much... he might...

Charlie: ...Gain his memories back?

Lucifer: ...Yeah... that.

Charlie: ...Dad. I... I think he should choice. Free will, right?

Lucifer: ...F-Free will? He... he hasn't had the apple- o-oh god- he's... he's- fuck.

Charlie quickly went to her father's side and rubbed his back: You need to talk to him, dad. Adam, he's... incredible. You don't give him enough credit. Speak to him. Really speak to him.

Lucifer: ...Will... will you come with me?

Smiling, Charlie nodded: I'll come with you, dad.

-

The king breathed in and out before walking into the kitchen. His daughter was still at his side: Addie-.

The first man looked up from his meal, smiling at Lucifer. He was more than halfway through eating some weird meat on his plate.

Lucifer: Adam? What's... where did you get that?

Adam smiled widely: Can't tell you, Luci! It's a secret! Would you like some? It's really good!

In Your Head

Lucifer sighed as he held the guitar that he took from the battlefield. It was Adams guitar and aside from a few scratches it looked like it was in perfect condition.

Lucifer: I'm going to miss you old friend.

Though, was friend the right word? Adam was so much more than a friend to Lucifer.

Watching him get stabbed like that had been very hard.

Was it though?

Lucifer snapped his head up, eyes wide as he looked at the angel he thought to be long dead, his helmet gone and golden blood staining his robe.

Lucifer: A-Adam? What, how are you here!?

Adam smiled at him and it was too sweet for the Adam of today the one that he turned into. But not the Adam he knew in Eden.

Adam: Oh come on Luci, you're smarter than that. No one comes back from an angelic blade to the heart. Thanks for that by the way.

That nickname sliced through his core, he hadn't heard it in so long he almost forgot that's what Adam used to call him.

Lucifer: You're not real are you?

Adam: Bingo baby! Awww, it's actually sweet. You miss me so much that I actually take up space in that head of yours.

Lucifer: Why are you so..... Nice? But look like that?

Adam shrugged and moved to sit down beside him: Probably because you don't really remember what I looked like in Eden, but more how I acted. So you just kinda...... Married the past with the present. I don't know boo, it's your mind.

Lucifer felt Adam touch his hair as if to tuck it behind his ear, but since he wasn't real the hand just went right through him.

Lucifer: I don't get it, you weren't like this in Eden.

Adam: Maybe I'm a version you've always wanted.

That made sense in a way.

Lucifer: Why would I want a polite slightly flirty version of you?

Adam smiled gently and leaned in: Come on Luci, you know why. Stop lying to yourself.~

His breath hitched in his throat, sure he had always thought about what could have been between them but...... It was always just a fantasy.

Adam: A fantasy you could have made real.~

Lucifer: You didn't want me.

Adam: How would you know? You never asked or tried. You could have had me all to yourself.

Lucifer: I could have?

Adam: Yeah. But now you never will.

@fanofstuff01 @beef-brisket

[bellaxgiornata]

I Would Never Hurt You One: Not What You Want

Pairing: Jax Teller x fem!Reader Word Count: 3.6k [Series Masterlist] [Jax Fic Masterlist]

Warnings/tags: 18+; past sexual abuse, trauma, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, somewhat nervous!Reader, soft Jax, panic attacks, eventual smut, Reader has a brother (patched Son)

summary: For months after you'd broken up with your ex, you and Jax had been in a flirtationship. Though you'd always kept Jax at a distance because his lifestyle reminded you far too much of your musician ex–and that terrified you. But your trauma and warnings don't stop Jax from desperately wanting to get closer to you.

a/n: This is just a short little series because I love soft Jax and wanted to see him with a partner who was a bit 'damaged' themselves. Please heed the above warnings/tags to avoid content that maybe triggering for you in this fic because there will be further discussions of sexual abuse. Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated.

series tag list: @anonymouse1807 @kmc1989 @secretlysamcro @shiggynuggiez

Closing your car door, the sharp bang cut through the muffled sounds of blaring music and laughter coming from inside the clubhouse. Taking what was meant to be a calming breath, you leaned against the driver’s side of your car for a moment longer in an attempt to collect yourself. As you stood there, your gaze lingered on the building on the other side of the dark parking lot, your mind beginning to race like it always did whenever you came out here.

You'd been to the Sons’ clubhouse plenty of times in the past since your brother had patched in with them, throwing back a couple of beers with him and the guys every now and then. So you knew what to expect here tonight. You knew that these parties were nothing like all of those stupid after-parties you'd endured with your ex whenever his band finished one of their shows, the ones that were filled with drugs and women and booze. Even though there was plenty of booze and women at the Sons’ clubhouse, usually the drugs were limited to a few guys smoking a joint, and you didn’t have a boyfriend to worry about cheating on you–or forcing you into something you didn’t want. 

So this wasn't quite like that. 

But while you didn’t have a boyfriend to worry about around all of the women here, that didn't mean there wasn't someone here. You'd always had a little thing for Jax ever since you’d first met him. Once you’d really started coming out to the Sons’ parties after your breakup, you two had formed what was strictly a flirtationship. Nothing had ever moved beyond that between you and Jax even if it often seemed like he was interested in going further. Because unlike him, you weren’t comfortable with anything more–from anyone. Not after the shit you’d been through with your ex. 

Despite the soft spot you’d oddly formed for Jax over these past months, the similarities he had with your ex were far too much for you to reconcile with to ever let him get closer. Because both were the type to attract and enjoy plenty of attention from the opposite sex, and both were very clearly sex-driven individuals. Your ex had struggled with the idea of commitment–something you’d learned the hard way time and time again–and Jax was the King of One Night Stands. Your ex and Jax both also very clearly enjoyed living in the moment and letting loose, especially at wild parties. They both did what they wanted, consequences be damned.

Besides all of those similarities, there was also the other glaringly obvious reason why nothing other than friendship could ever happen with Jax–he was the president of the Sons of Anarchy. Jax was a criminal biker with a violent past and present, and while your brother was also a Son, he didn't have a temper like Jax. You’d personally witnessed it a handful of times even though his anger had never been directed at you. But that temper and his lifestyle after your previous relationship? It made you nervous. It scared you. And those feelings you had for Jax? They terrified you enough to keep him at a distance.

You couldn’t go through that again. And you were certain the cheating and being pushed too far in the bedroom were inevitable with a man like Jax Teller. Especially because, after the shit you’d been through, you weren’t even ready or comfortable for the most basic thing Jax would want from you–sex. 

Expelling a rough breath, you finally pushed off of your car and began heading towards the clubhouse, making your way past the line of motorcycles. Your brother had invited you to come out for a few drinks earlier, which was the only reason you’d come here tonight. Otherwise you’d have happily stayed home where you were vastly more comfortable. 

Pushing open the door to the clubhouse, you stepped inside and were immediately entrenched in the scent of cigarette smoke, sweat, and the loud, chaotic noise of everyone partying. Trying to ignore the memories it stirred up within your mind, your eyes darted around the main room as you made your way through the groups of people while you searched for your brother. 

You continued to scan the room around you as you stopped at the bar, accepting a bottle of beer from one of the newer prospects behind it. Taking a deep pull from the beer, you turned around and leaned your back against the counter as your eyes continued to pass over the room. You swallowed down the alcohol, lowering the bottle in your hand as your eyes drifted past Juice and Opie in the middle of a game at the pool table before catching sight of Tig on a couch with two girls. It was obvious what they were about to do considering how one of the women had her hand over the crotch of Tig's jeans.

“Looking for your brother?”

Head abruptly darting over your shoulder at the unexpected voice over the noise, you almost came face to face with Jax. He was casually leaning a hip against the bar barely a foot away from you, his usual flirtatious smirk drawn over his lips as he eyed you. His gaze slowly drifted over you, taking in what you were wearing before it lingered shamelessly in a few places. The second his eyes met yours, his head slowly tilted to one side while his blonde brows marginally rose in a silent question. 

Your pulse had quickened at his sudden appearance, your heart nearly flying into your throat at the sight of him. You didn't know which was affecting you more–how attractive he was, the way he was checking you out, or how afraid you were of the way you felt about him. There was a familiar flicker of something in his eyes that told you that he'd yet again caught that brief, odd hesitation you always initially had around him. That moment where you had to mentally remind yourself that he wasn't your ex.

“Yeah, actually,” you answered, shifting your attention away from Jax. Scanning the room again, you tried to even the racing of your heart. “He asked me to come out tonight, but considering I can't see him anywhere…”

Your voice trailed off, the meaning of your words left unspoken. Just like every other Son here, your brother enjoyed the club girls that always hung around at these parties. And while maybe hooking up hadn't initially been his intention when he'd texted you earlier, that was clearly why he was missing right now.

“Pretty sure he's a little preoccupied at the moment, darlin’,” Jax sympathetically informed you. “Saw him disappear a bit ago with a girl. I didn't know you were coming out tonight, though.”

You sighed, looking down at the beer in your hand, gently swirling the liquid in the bottle. If your brother was off having sex, you knew he'd be busy for a bit. Which made you coming out here tonight quite pointless. 

“He wanted to hang out,” you replied, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the music and shouting. “But apparently his plans changed. Now I'll probably just…head back home after I finish this.”

Lifting the beer back up to your lips, you took another pull off of it. Beside you, Jax shifted his weight on his feet, the movement bringing him a couple of inches closer to you. You tensed when you lowered the bottle, looking back over at him. This time when your eyes met his, his blonde brows drew tight together in confusion.

“Goin’ home already?” he asked. “Didn’t you just get here, darlin’?”

You shrugged a shoulder back at him. “Yeah, but there’s really no point in me staying here if he’s going to be ‘preoccupied’ for the night,” you answered. “I’m not really one for parties.”

Jax grew quiet, one of his fingers tapping absently against the bottle in his hand as he studied you. The way he was looking at you only had your stomach twisting into nervous knots. His gaze was far more intense than what it usually was, like he was trying to read you–which was not the way he ever looked at the croweaters.

“I’ve noticed that,” Jax said after a moment. “You don’t come hang out with us too often. You don’t usually stay for long, either. Why is that?”

“I don’t like parties,” you repeated, a nervous edge creeping into your tone. “Besides, at a certain point, the evening sort of just…devolves into something I don’t really care to sit around and watch.”

And by that, you meant that the guys started hooking up. Occasionally right there out in the open. Which personally made you uncomfortable. 

“Understandable,” he said with a grin. 

Jax turned, leaning his back against the bar beside you in a position that mirrored yours as he kicked his legs out in front of himself, crossing them at the ankles. You grew a bit more tense at his proximity, watching him out of the corner of your eye. He always flirted with you whenever you came out, and you generally returned the playful comments, but you weren't used to him getting quite so into your personal space. He was having a different effect on you tonight than usual. One that was putting you on edge.

“You don’t have to leave after you finish that beer, you know,” he told you, turning his head over his shoulder to look at you. “You can stay for a bit even if your brother is busy. I wouldn't mind hanging out with you.”

“Oh?” you asked, attempting to tease him like usual. But your voice sounded a bit off even to your own ears as you struggled not to pay attention to the nerves swirling in your gut. “You’re that interested in my company, Teller?”

He grinned in response before leaning further towards you, his mouth suddenly beside your ear. Your body went to war with itself instantly, half of you wanting to lean in closer while the other half wanted you to run back out to your car. This was bordering on something you weren't comfortable with, your pulse racing just a bit more as you felt the heat from him beside you.

“I’m always that interested in your company,” he whispered.

Ducking your head at the feel of his warm breath grazing along the shell of your ear, your hand gripped the neck of your beer bottle tighter. Your eyes closed a moment later, the hair on the back of your neck bristling, but not in the way it probably should have.

“And I’d be happy to entertain you, sweetheart,” he murmured. “For as long as you wanted tonight.”

That felt like a clear invitation. One you weren't interested in. Suddenly hit with the need to run in order to avoid this situation of Jax actually trying to have sex with you instead of just flirting, you took an abrupt step away from him and roughly set your beer down onto the bar. Taking a deep breath, you tried to control your emotions, not wanting to suddenly spiral into a panic attack.  

Glancing back up at him, a strained smile drew itself across your lips as you met his stare. You caught the look of sheer confusion washing over his own features at your reaction–clearly this was not how things went for Jax when he flirted. 

“You know what, I think I might just–just go now,” you told him, taking another step away from him as that feeling of panic further filled your chest. 

“What?” he asked. “Why?”

He took a step closer to you, but the moment you took another step away from him, Jax stopped moving. The expression shifted on his face, the confusion still present, but it looked like recognition was gradually dawning over his features.

“Darlin’, you okay?” he asked, a faint crease forming between his brows. “You look like you’re about to run right out of here.” His hand gestured at the half full beer you’d just set on the bar. “You didn’t even finish your drink. Is somethin’ wrong?”

“I just–” you paused, shaking your head.

How the hell were you supposed to get out of this without actually telling Jax what was really going on with you? Which you did not want to do. Not only did nothing about Jax scream that he was the type to sit down and have emotional conversations with damaged, traumatized women, but it was personal. And it was embarrassing to even think about telling the guy who slept with more women than he could ever count that you were absolutely terrified to let yourself trust someone again to even be vulnerable enough to have sex with them. 

“Is it…me?” he asked carefully, taking a cautious step towards you. “Because I’ve noticed you always hit a point where you get nervous and disappear on me, babe. Been like that for months. And I’ve been trying to be patient with you, but I don’t understand what I’m doin’ wrong here.”

“It’s not–you’re not doing anything wrong, Jax,” you replied, your face twisting in discomfort at this conversation. 

And he wasn’t. Jax was free to be himself and sleep with whoever he wanted. He owed you nothing. He wasn’t yours and you weren’t stupid enough to think otherwise. He was just too much of a reminder of your past relationship despite the other parts of himself that you found yourself drawn towards.

“I–I’m just not that kind of girl,” you forced out. “I can’t be whatever it is you’re looking for, alright?”

Jax’s brows knitted somehow further together at that, the confusion only deepening on his features. He took another careful step towards you, though he made sure to keep some distance when he saw the way you shied away again.

“What do you think I’m looking for?” he asked seriously. “A hookup? Because darlin’, I promise you if that’s all I was after, I’d have lost interest months ago.” 

Unable to hide your reaction, your face scrunched up in distaste at his words. He’d have lost interest in you months ago if he just wanted sex? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Because now he really sounded like your ex.

As if he could read your mind just by the look on your face, Jax abruptly shook his head. “Not because I’m not interested in you,” he clarified quickly. “I'm just saying if you wanted me like that, I think we’d have already hooked up by now. It’s been months of us dancing around each other just flirting, baby. I've wanted you this whole time. As more than just some one night thing. Because I like you.” His tone lowered as he took a partial step towards you again, eyes studying you closely to make sure you weren’t about to bolt on him. “But why is it that you keep running away from me whenever I get too close?”

Inhaling a trembling breath, your eyes darted away from him and around the crowded clubhouse. It was full of drunk Sons and even drunker, barely clothed women clinging to them. Your mind briefly flashed back to those parties in the past–the women all over your ex, the way it made you feel inferior, the stupid shit it had you allowing him to do to you, the way you'd be crying about it later when you were sober.

“Jax, I can’t,” you replied, voice pained as you looked back at him. “Please don’t make me answer that.”

His face visibly fell at your response, looking like you’d just stabbed him with that pleading tone. Your urge to flee was only growing stronger the longer you stood there discussing this with him. You weren't ready for this–you weren't ready to talk about your past trauma. That hadn't been on your mind when you'd come out tonight.

“Baby,” he began, speaking softer than you'd ever heard him, “why can't you? What's wrong?”

“Just trust me when I say you don't want me, okay?” The words spilled out of you in a rush as you took another definitive step away from him. “I'm just–I'm a fucking mess, Jax. Okay? A really big fucking mess. You don't want me, I'm too fucking complicated. And I'm not going to do the one night thing with you, either.”

He froze at your words, that confusion only settling deeper onto his features. Goddammit, you needed to get the hell out of here. You could not do this. Without another thought, you spun around and started weaving your way in a panic through the people in the clubhouse, slipping past Bobby and Happy as you headed straight for the exit. But you’d barely pushed the door open and taken a handful of steps out into the lot before you heard Jax’s voice behind you.

“Wait, darlin’!” he called out, the sound of his footsteps over the pavement matching the frantic beating of your heart. “Hang on a minute. Talk to me. What's going on, sweetheart?”

Turning around back towards him, you saw Jax fast approaching you through the lot. Your tongue felt like a lead weight in your mouth as your hands fidgeted in front of yourself. This was embarrassing. You just wanted to get the hell out of here, but clearly he wasn't going to let you just walk away.

“Is it because of your ex?” Jax asked carefully as he continued to slowly approach you. “That dipshit you broke up with a few months back? Cause I know your brother said some shit happened with him.” 

His eyes narrowed as he studied you closely, taking a few slower, tentative steps in your direction. Jax moved as if he was afraid to startle you, which only had you feeling even more ridiculous. But at the mention of your ex, you froze. Attempting to swallow the lump that had formed in the back of your throat at his gradual approach, Jax caught the way you'd stiffened.

His expression darkened as he came to a stop a few feet away from you, his eyes narrowing further. “Darlin’, what'd that bastard ex of yours do?” he asked carefully, his tone low and dangerous. “Did he hurt you? Is that what's going on?”

“Jax, I don't want to talk about this,” you whispered, pain lacing your words.

“Please? Just answer that, darlin’,” he nearly begged in desperation. “Just gimme that much. Are you afraid of me because of him? Is that what's been goin’ on?”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, your hands continued to anxiously fidget in front of yourself. You weren't sure if you could get back to your car without giving him some sort of answer, but you figured he could already see the truth in the way you'd been responding to him. With a single nod, you gave him what he was looking for, and Jax's expression immediately fell. 

He practically deflated right in front of you. His shoulders dropped at the same time his mouth settled into a deep frown. He looked so unlike the man you were used to seeing at these parties–the cocky, self-assured guy who walked around with a swagger in his step. Instead, he stood before you looking small and wounded, like you'd somehow just hurt him.

“I don't want you to be scared of me, baby,” he said softly. “I'd never hurt you. You know that, don't you?”

You wanted to believe that. Despite his violent tendencies when it came to the club, he didn't ever seem like the type to hurt innocent women. You knew that's not what the club did, but it wasn't just the violence inside of him that he was capable of that scared you. It was the way he viewed sex considering his reputation with women. It meant nothing to him, something he did with whoever he wanted whenever he wanted. You could only imagine the pressure you'd feel trying to keep his interest with all the women he's had in the past and all the ones he could easily have at any moment. 

Pressure you didn't want to feel again. Pressure that might make you do more than you were comfortable with just to keep him happy, sacrificing your boundaries for someone else. Again. You didn't want to do that, you didn't want to be that version of yourself again, the one who disappeared for the sake of someone else.

“I'm not what you want, Jax,” you repeated quietly. “I'm not like those girls in there.”

Without waiting for his response, you abruptly turned and made your way back to your car, wrapping your arms around your chest as you walked like they'd somehow keep you from falling apart. Ignoring the sound of his voice as he called after you, you made your way through the rest of the lot and got into your car. The sound of the engine when you'd started it helped to drown out Jax’s voice still calling out to you.

But you didn't want to turn back around and go to him. You knew that when he had a minute to process how damaged and broken you were, he'd realize just how much he didn't actually want you. How fucked up you were, how complicated. You knew he'd see it.

Pulling your car out of the lot, you drove it past him and towards the exit, fighting the tears stinging at your eyes. But as you pulled out of the lot and onto the street, you couldn't resist glancing up at your rear view mirror for one last look at him. Jax was standing next to the clubhouse, his sad blue eyes following your car as it drove away, one of his hands buried in his blonde hair.