#I say writing again because like I've been writing since I was 11

[lesbiancharliedalton]

I've been editing this write-up for literal weeks now and I still feel like I can't get in everything that I want to convey, but I'll try.

It's officially been one year since I stayed up ALL night (like, til 10-11 AM) editing this, my very first full-length music video. All in one sitting. To most, it's probably just a regular character edit or fan-made music video. To me, it's something else. It's catharsis, love and and an explosive expression of myself. To this day, I still can't quite explain what I went through when I was making this. I had just heard this song for the very first time about 24 hours prior and I immediately knew I had to make this music video. I listened to the song, and immediately thought of Charlie. I knew I had to make this. When it was done, I broke down crying and didn't stop for about 2 hours. I came to a lot of conclusions about myself and my life and I had never felt simultaneously more vulnerable and more accepting of myself.

I was crying, partially, because I realized that I was feeling real, genuine love for this fictional character who had been living quietly inside of me and influencing me for years and years. Which is an insane and crazy thing to say. And at first, I felt shame, because I knew it was crazy, and also because it made me realize I had never romantically loved another human being before, and certainly not to this extent. This revelation first made me feel scared, isolated and embarrassed. I thought it was really sad that I was only able to feel this way, feel this level of understanding and love for someone who would never exist and who could never hurt me. I thought I had matured past that way of thinking. It was embarrassing to know that I could spend hours upon hours crying and expelling all my emotional energy just trying to craft a love letter to someone who could never reciprocate because they quite literally have never existed.

But then I realized that it felt right. I had spent my life with all this pent-up energy and love and emotion and I kept putting it in all the wrong places. Nothing seemed to work for years and I felt disconnected from most of society. I realized that night that it was my own doing. I had been hurt and beat down so many times that I detached myself entirely. I repressed my passions that others dismissed as frivolous, I refused to acknowledge or show my feelings or admit to others how I felt about them and I lived a life that I was absolutely miserable in due to fear of being embarrassed, made fun of, or alienated.

In my fear of becoming alienated, I had alienated myself.

And for the first time in years, things made sense. Through rewatching this movie, through seeing this character again, my eyes were opened. I don't know why or how, but through loving Charlie I started the long and arduous process of loving myself. I saw parts of myself in him and his journey, parts that I had been repressing for years and years. And I saw parts of myself that I wanted to be in this character. I was seeing clearly for the first time.

And somehow, through this movie, this character, through crafting this love letter set to lyrics that I wish I could tell him to his face, I found myself. I realized I didn't need to pretend to be someone else anymore. I realized that by trying to be what everyone else wanted to be, I was making myself miserable and further isolating myself. I realized that I finally wanted to be myself, whoever that is, for the first time in years. It seems like an extremely obvious conclusion to make, but for some reason it took me seeing Charlie for the first time in ten years to really, truly realize it. It also made me realize that through the process of connecting with myself instead of running from it, it would become easier for me to connect with others around me too. I've become much more emotionally open and even braver when it comes to other people. I've done things I would have never done just a few years ago. I make connections with all sorts of new people constantly, and not online.

I still can't explain how sitting down and manically crafting a music video helped me come to all these conclusions that had been banging around in my head for a couple of months, but sometimes personal epiphanies come to us in unexpected ways I guess.

As ridiculous as it sounds, through Charlie Dalton, through loving him, I found and learned to love myself. And it doesn't matter that he isn't real, because the impact that he's had on me is very real, and personally I've stopped believing that it's cringe and now I think it's kind of beautiful. For years, I had convinced myself that I was incapable of love--giving and receiving. Through making this, I realized that I had plenty of love to give, I just didn't know where to put it. I poured all of it into this video. How beautiful to love something so much and have it change you.

Charlie Dalton - VIENNA

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #11

It's an innocent ("please," Jason sneers, "there's nothing innocent about a plagiaristic propaganda machine encouraging minors to dance for sick ol' pervs while it spews misogynistic hate speech.'"

"okay, boomer,"

"the fuck did you just call me, replacement?") TikTok, one of those ones that kind of simmers in the background for a few weeks until someone with a decent enough following posts it on the Platform Formerly Known as Twitter and from there it seriously catches traction, blowing up until Tim knocks on Bruce's office door, phone in hand. Damian stands behind him, arms crossed and clearly simmering.

Bruce, fresh off a series of zoom conferences, raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, so you haven't seen it," Tim decides, striding forward.

Bruce's eyebrow jumps a smidge higher, on the edge of concern, as Tim thrusts his phone into his grasp.

"So," he begins, reaching over to refresh the mobile page "there's a video that's been making the rounds on Twitter and—well you should probably see it," He sighs over Damian's scoff as he clicks through the pop-up asking him to sign in or join TikTok, and presses "Watch Again", unmuting the video.

🎶 "Doo, badoo-badoo-badoo Badoo-badoo-badoo-badoo,"🎶 an upbeat background song hums as someone, presumably a student, films a school hallway with their phone. They walk past students talking near their lockers, some of whom flash peace signs and silly grins as the camera swings their way before continuing on.

But the main point Bruce gets stuck on is the all lowercase white text at the center of the screen that an automated woman's voice awkwardly narrates:

"when you go to school with bruce wayne's other long lost lovechild"

The student filming comes up behind a much taller student who faces away from him, in conversation with a black haired pale teenaged girl. She spots the cameraman and shoots him a confused, disgruntled look, saying something to the boy who then turns around.

Bruce quietly observes as the camera zooms in on a boy around Tim's page, possibly older. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a strong jaw, he raises an eyebrow at the one filming, looking beyond the camera, pitch black hair with blue undertones falling into his blue eyes. The camera momentarily zooms too far into those eyes then abruptly pulls back as he quirks a puzzled smile at the viewer, mouthing out an easily understandable "hi?".

The TikTok ends and seamlessly transitions to a person balancing their cat on an exercise ball with minimal success and this time Bruce presses the Watch Again button. The heart on the right side claims 750k likes.

Damian scoffs, louder, as it ends. "Clearly it is a hoax, but it has been popular among my classmates."

"The board hasn't made much noise about it—" Tim starts.

"And they won't," Bruce says, lifting his eyes from his phone. "Wayne Industries doesn't give statements on videos like these, no matter how viral they become. I've been getting lovechild claims since before I adopted Dick."

Which Tim knows, which is why his insistence on showing Bruce this one raises his hackles. He pins Tim down with a stare and despite Tim's perfected PR mask, he can see Tim is unsettled.

"B...he really, really looks like you." Tim admits. Damian scoffs for a third time and Tim shoots him a glare, "I get it, you don't see it, but you haven't seen the pictures of Bruce when he was younger."

"I don't need to!" Damian says angrily. "You're all being ridiculous!"

"All?" Bruce asks. Tim shifts awkwardly. "The family group chat has been talking," he says.

"I see," Bruce says. Because he does. Many claim Damian to be his doppelganger, but the boy actually favors Talia not just in skin tone but in the shape and color of his eyes, as well as the soft slope of her mouth and ears. Whether those features will sharpen once he goes through puberty is anyone's guess.

But this young man has Bruce's eyes. Martha's eyes.

That night they have a suspiciously full house for dinner, with even Jason dropping in, but no one says anything until Barbara wheels in for dessert, carrying a manila folder on her lap.

"What?" she says, when everyone stares. "Dick told me it was crème brûlée today!"

Bruce extends a hand wordlessly, and Barbara sheepishly hands the folder over.

"Bruce," she says, before he can open it, "I wouldn't have looked into this normally, but,"

"Just say it," Jason says, leaning back in his chair. "Take away the gray hairs, the receding hairline, and the wrinkles and the kid's a dead match."

"Take it back, Todd," Damian growls, "Father has a very full head of hair!"

"Not to mention a failed track record at keeping it in his pants, Exhibit A," Jason continues, pointing a fork at Damian, "oh wait," he says gleefully, "kid is definitely 18, so I guess that would make you Exhibit B!"

The table erupts, cutlery tinkling as Damian gets a knee up on the table to hurl himself at a cackling Todd, Dick jumping up to grab him as the others lean out of the way—

"Ahem!" Everyone stops cold as Alfred stands in the doorway, porcelain ramekins of crème brûlée stacked perfectly on a silver tray. Under his gaze, everyone sits back down, Damian and Jason both quietly uttering a "Sorry Alfie/Alfred," as they straighten up.

Bruce is oblivious to the chaos, Barbara biting her lip beside him as he stares blankly inside the folder at the printed copy of an adoption certificate.

Two days and several million likes later, another TikTok goes viral from the same user. Caught in the moment as whoever is filming runs up to the group, the same young man is chatting with a blonde in a red letterman jacket, a partially formed crowd around them. Even with one leg still in the cafeteria table, he towers over everyone.

"—sh. Look, we're all possibly Bruce Wayne's son!" the boy snarks. He has his hands out, palms up as if he's making a great point, and as he looks around he catches sight of the cameraman and his smirk drops.

"Ah Mac, c'mon dude not again—" and the TikTok ends.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

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

Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)

(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,

Words: 9.0K

TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3

August 2025

Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance. 

Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away. 

“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”

“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night. 

“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”

“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily. 

Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”

“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”

The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”

“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved. 

Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else. 

“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”

“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone. 

“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?” 

“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.

Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”

“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”

She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around. 

“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet. 

“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late. 

“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard. 

The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave. 

It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay. 

Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months. 

“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question. 

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”

Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”

“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”

And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away. 

“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”

The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter. 

“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart. 

***

Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine. 

Until she’s not. 

And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine. 

“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck. 

Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down. 

“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”

Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out. 

“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”

“Because that’s what you wanted-”

“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”

“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”

A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion. 

 “I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”

Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore. 

“Dance with me,” Paige whispers. 

“What?” 

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home. 

“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”

“Paige-”

“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”

“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it

“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind. 

It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight. 

April 2033 

“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup

“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”

Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.

“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”

“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”

Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”

“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age. 

“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word. 

“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her. 

“Paige!”

Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”

“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen. 

“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”

Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”

Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother. 

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”

“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”

“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”

“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes. 

Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”

“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room. 

Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”

Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it. 

“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”

They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse. 

“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too. 

“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’

“I know-”

“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever. 

“Why would this be about Clémence?” 

Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”

“Paige-”

“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”

She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again. 

“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown. 

“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”

Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”

“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”

Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”

“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”

“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen. 

“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”

“Az-”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks. 

Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her. 

“Hey,” she whispers. 

“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”

“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”

“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”

“What?” 

Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”

“What does that have to-”

“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”

Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”

“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”

“Teammates definitely carpool.”

April 2029 

“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.

“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave. 

Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off. 

“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”

Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”

Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had. 

When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years. 

They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen. 

“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”

“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”

“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown. 

“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

“Paige,” Ice hisses again. 

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”

“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”

“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it. 

“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp. 

“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could,  “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”

No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze. 

“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever. 

“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”

“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’

“Yeah Azzi.”

“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”

***

April 2033

The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too. 

“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”

“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back. 

Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”

“I’m pretty sure I know-”

“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”

“They’re not-”

“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk. 

“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”

“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug. 

“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face. 

Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”

Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs. 

“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”

“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests. 

“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”

“Hey!”

“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”

Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”

“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”

Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”

“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”

It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women. 

“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”

She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins. 

“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking. 

“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”

“They’re not fighting over me-”

“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”

“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”

“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”

All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”

It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.

Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world. 

“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette. 

“Clém-” Azzi sighs. 

“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”

“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”

Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”

The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home. 

“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand. 

Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence. 

“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”

“I don’t-”

“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”

Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.

“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”

“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip. 

“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless. 

“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.

“I said no thank you.”

“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up. 

“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly. 

“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”

Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”

“I called her a-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”

“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”

“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently. 

“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns. 

“Azzi-”

“Paige please.”

“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”

“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.

Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

***

It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air. 

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door. 

“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.

“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles. 

“I can do it my-”

Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”

Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand. 

“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally. 

“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow. 

“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously. 

“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much. 

“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound. 

“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells. 

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right. 

“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi. 

Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”

“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”

Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first. 

“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”

Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder. 

“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs. 

Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”

“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”

“Right.”

Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”

“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice. 

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 12

james potter x fem!reader

summary - Things hadn't gotten much better with James, and you knew you could only go so long without talking to him—after all, he was still your best friend. But, considering all that'd happened, along with some encouragement from your friends, you knew the time had come to finally admit you wanted more than that.

wc [6.2k]

a/n: alr guys ... very happy and also sad to say this is the last chapter of it's always been you!! :( i've loved every minute of writing this series as well as sharing it (its become my baby atp), and it is definitely because of all the love and support everyone reading has given it. thank u to everyone stuck around to this point, & i hope u guys enjoy this last chapter!! i send all my hugs and kisses <3 - e

all chapters | <- Chapter 11

It'd been another hour or two until everyone had fully returned from Hogsmeade and dinner was being served in the Great Hall. You finally changed out of your dress and into your everyday clothing again, already feeling better, but that didn't mean you felt good. You didn't think you could feel good when both your brain and heart were hurting like they were. And worst of all, the one person you'd go to in times like these for comfort was the same person you couldn't go to. Not now.

The girls had been doing their best to get your mind off of everything that had happened that day, aside from when Marlene profusely apologized to you for letting Potter hear her outburst in the common room.

"Although, I have to say," she admitted afterward. "I'm not completely sorry for him that he had to hear it. I may be brutal but I never tell a lie."

That fact didn't leave you as you sat with her and Lily in the Great Hall for dinner, a number of seats away from the other Marauders. You recognized with a skip in your heartbeat that James was with them, surprisingly enough since you knew how he was accustomed to skipping meals in the dining hall when he wanted to be alone, a habit you both unfortunately shared. But that didn't mean he was enjoying himself either.

You could see even from your seat down the table that he wasn't saying much, mostly keeping to himself quietly, something so out of character for him yet you'd seen him do it constantly the entire week. You wanted to yell at him and shake him silly, but you also wanted to hug him. When you caught yourself in the midst of those thoughts you turned back to your own spot at the table shamefully.

You tried to force yourself to eat, catching your friends' concerned looks at your full plate, but you didn't feel much like it. Especially not when you still felt maybe a dozen pairs of eyes on you from every corner of the Great Hall.

Even with all that'd happened since just that morning, the rumors and whatever else people had come up with to talk about had not yet been forgotten about by the school like your friends said it would be. Then you thought about whether news had spread of your disastrous date in Hogsmeade, and prayed that nobody had caught wind of that incident either. You didn't think you could handle any more of the staring.

Immediately after you had that thought, you spotted a fifth-year in Ravenclaw robes walking past your table, watching as he blatantly pointed at you as he spoke to his friend, and you looked down at your plate with hardened eyes.

You heard Marlene scoff from next to you. "Hey!" she called to the boy. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was rude to point?"

The fifth-year didn't respond to her but looked to his friend, hurriedly taking a seat at his own table, his whispers being drowned out in the loudness of the dining hall.

Marlene fumed from next to you. "I can't believe these people. Are they really that bored with their own lives that they're so obsessed with a bloody rumor?"

You shook your head toying with your fork. "Just ignore them. That's what I've settled on doing."

She sighed from beside you and you thought that'd be the end of everything, until you heard gasps from down the table. You looked up and followed the sounds and were met with a sight not even the magic of Hogwarts could've prepared you for.

James—your James—had stood up on the bench he'd once been sitting in, and you thanked Merlin he wasn't standing fully on the table; though you had absolutely no idea what he could possibly be up to, you knew it couldn't be anything good. He cupped a hand to his mouth as your heartrate picked up.

"Can I have everyone's attention?"

He didn't have to ask twice for it. His voice boomed out loudly, something that seemed to come naturally to him, and the noise in the Great Hall had died out in a mere second until it was almost completely silent—quiet enough for you to hear the beating of your heart in your chest as you looked up at him. Your throat went dry.

"Not that it's any of anyone's business," he started confidently to the hundreds of eyes now looking at him, tone nothing but sober. "But nothing happened in the broom closet. Or in the locker room."

You felt the churning in your stomach claw up into your throat, then felt it drop back down, keeping you stationed in your seat. He didn't give much context to his declaration, but with the popularity of the topic amongst the school, it didn't seem like he needed to. His voice almost seemed to echo, all other noises drowning out as everyone stared up at him. James looked around the entire room appearing completely unafraid and you didn't know how the hell he did it; you probably looked more fearful than him.

"So," he began again, "I don't want to see or hear anyone talking about those rumors any longer. And if anyone has a problem with that, they can answer to me. Alright?"

Of course, nobody said anything then, but you could see in their eyes that they were going to listen to him. Or at least, they'd make sure they didn't get caught going against him. Maybe it was from his impenetrably confident voice or his respected status around the school, you weren't sure, but he had that unique effect on people in an almost effortless way.

When it was clear he'd gotten his point across, he scanned his eyes over the sea of students until they found yours. In a dizzying way, it felt like you were the only two in the room for a moment, as cliché as the thought sounded in your head.

You didn't know what had motivated him to do what he did, but you could see in his eyes something fragile that juxtaposed the self-assured look they'd had only seconds ago. He looked away again and stepped back down to floor level once more, not taking a moment before striding out of the Great Hall, his form disappearing seconds after.

Even without his physical presence, his action seemed to linger over the room for a moment more before chatter broke out once again. You were still frozen in place, not knowing if moving would finalize the idea that whatever just happened was real and not just part of some wild dream.

Marlene had confirmed that it definitely had happened, however, when she turned to you with her jaw dropped, an amazed but delighted sparkle in her eye. "Someone tell me you saw that too."

"Oh we saw it," rang Lily, who also looked much too happy about that fact, probably just relieved James's antics weren't centered on her for once. You could see them both staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to react. You could also see the boys in your peripheral, the three of them remaining at the table searching your face for a reaction.

Yet, all you could do was stand up and walk hurriedly towards the exit. Dozens of conversations rushed past your ears as you did, a blur of remarks ranging from "Potter's lost it" to "He's so bloody fit." Whatever they were saying, you noted with gratefulness in the back of your mind that none of the conversations were about you.

You reached the doorway and stopped once you were a safe distance away in the hallway, heaving breaths in for a moment to yourself before finding that you weren't alone. All of your friends had followed you without blinking an eye, and you didn't know whether you found it endearing or inconvenient. Though, to be fair, you didn't know where you were going. You just knew you couldn't sit there and pretend as if nothing had happened.

You blinked at the three boys who neared you with puzzled looks on each of their faces. "Did you guys know anything about this?"

"No," promised Sirius. "In fact, James has hardly said anything to us since this morning."

You shook your head to yourself, feeling breathless. "I can't ... believe he would do that."

"Really?" Lily stared at you. "I mean, it's Potter we're talking about. It's exactly something he would do."

You couldn't fight the smile that tugged on the corners of your lips even as you shook your head. You ran a hand over your hair as the blonde from next to you hit you in the shoulder.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" You frowned over at her as she stared at you expectantly. "Go to him."

You stilled, gaping at her. "What?"

"Go to him. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

You tipped your head at her like it would help you understand her better, parting your drying lips. "I thought you said he was a selfish git." You heard Remus snort from beside you.

"I did, sure," reasoned Marlene, not without a hint of pride. "But only because I thought he was ruining your chances of moving on now that you were over him. But seriously, I can see your face when you look at him." She shook her head. "That's not the look of someone who wants to move on."

Your eyes flickered over her face as she spoke, an infinite number of thoughts overtaking you. In the silence of your thinking, a Hufflepuff boy walked past the six of you in the hallway, staring all the while.

"What are you looking at?" snapped Marlene, turning to him without missing a beat. "Did you not just hear Potter?"

Like he'd heard him loud and clear, and also like he was scared of Marlene, he hurried away with his head bent forward. Satisfied, the blonde turned back to you. At your conflicted expression, she asked, "Well?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. "It's just that," you began, not even knowing where you were going with your rambling. "I've spent so long trying to get over him. It's not fair to myself to just forget all of that, and it definitely wasn't fair to Sebastian-"

"For Merlin's sake," cut in Lily, to your surprise. "You keep talking about what's fair and what's unfair, but what about you? What do you want?"

You stared at her, beginning to feel breathless under the eyes of all your friends. "It's not just about what I want. It's not that simple."

"But what if it is?" she questioned. "I know how difficult this has all been for you. And I know you said Potter doesn't just get to realize his feelings for you and suddenly be with you, that it doesn't work like that. But what if it does?" She raised her hands at her sides. "Not everything is a perfect story to tell. Especially not when it comes to you two. It's not every day you fall in love with your best friend and he finally sees that he's fallen for you too. Are you seriously going to let him go because of some made-up system of rules?"

Your breath was becoming staggering now, and you didn't know what to think, because everything they were telling you sounded so right.

"I don't know," you began unsurely. "Of course, I don't want to lose him. Not talking to him for the past week has been harder than I ever could've imagined. I don't even know what it would feel like to have to do it for longer than I already have been." You blinked down at your shoes, truly realizing those things at the same rate you said them. "I think I just ... miss him."

"Of course you miss him." Marlene looked at you sympathetically. "That's why I think you should go tell all this to him."

You felt bile rising in your throat. "I don't even know if he'd want to see me after all we've said to each other."

"Are you joking?" Remus butted in exasperatedly. "Prongs is bloody in love with you. Can't you see that?"

"Remus," you warned softly because you didn't know how much more of this hope you could take before you did something you'd regret.

"I'm telling the truth." His voice was heavy with meaning. "Maybe it took him a while to realize it himself, but the rest of us have had to sit back and watch you both act like you don't have feelings for each other for years. Believe me, the only reason he's in his room right now and not with you is because he thinks that's what you want."

Your brows pinched. "You can't truly know that."

"Really?" he laughed. "What do you think we talked about that night Vance asked you out?"

Your expression faltered and you forced yourself to think back to the night James had begun acting distant from you, though it wasn't difficult to, the storyline of it all clicking into place in your head.

"You," breathed Remus. "We talked about you."

"Not to mention," Sirius added, "we're the ones who've had to spend every night in our dorm listening to him bitch and moan about Vance this and Vance that." You swallowed at your friends' words, but they didn't quit.

"And we know James was being a right idiot today," Sirius insisted honestly. "But you should've seen him this morning right after you two argued. He was heartbroken. More than he'd ever been over Evans." He turned to the redhead in question. "No offense, Evans."

Lily rolled her eyes lightheartedly. "Trust me, Black, none taken."

He nodded and turned back to you swiftly. "So for you to think that James would want anything other than to fix things with you and just be with you is bloody mental."

You stared at all of your friends who were looking so determinedly back at you that you didn't think you could tell them 'no' now. But still, your feet didn't budge.

"It's not just that," you almost whispered. "I guess I'm just ... scared. What if it goes wrong and we get into some ridiculous fight again? What then?"

Marlene took a hold of your shoulders, slightly scaring you in her resoluteness. "Potter just stood up and yelled at the entire bloody school and you're trying to tell us you'rescared?" She shook you a little, and your friends smirked from behind her. "Be a Gryffindor for Godric's sake! Go to him!"

Before you could say anything more, she was turning you around and shoving you a little until you had the momentum you needed to take steps toward the Gryffindor common room. You made it all the way up the nearest set of steps before you paused, turning back to your friends with a grateful smile.

"Thank you, you guys." You expected them to share the sweet moment with you, but they only rolled their eyes.

"Go, woman!" Sirius groaned, and you rolled your eyes back at them, but it lacked any real annoyance.

You didn't know exactly what you were planning on doing, but you didn't have time to think about it because your legs were carrying you speedily through the halls in your anxious state and wouldn't let you stop until you reached the portrait entrance to the Gryffindor common room. Taking a steadying breath in, you said the password and entered the room.

With everyone else still being at dinner in the Great Hall, it wasn't exactly difficult to find James. He sat in the common room, his brunette head of curls visible to you in the low light. They covered the majority of his face that you could see, his head tipped downwards with his elbows resting on his knees. That changed within the blink of an eye as you entered the room, his head swiftly lifting until he locked eyes with you, and you had to fight a shiver at the feeling it sent shuddering through you.

He seemed to think you were just going to go to your own dorm and ignore him, and he averted his eyes to look somewhere else, maybe the fireplace, until you left—but you didn't. You only walked closer to him until you were separated by only one of the couches, the distance still small enough to make your breathing quicken.

At the soundlessness of your stilled footsteps, James looked back up and met your eyes again, and he swallowed. Clearly, he hadn't expected you to make any move to talk to him that night, even after the scene he'd made in the Great Hall. The problem was that you hadn't expected yourself to either, and now you didn't know what you wanted to say first, because there were certainly a million things you had to make sure he knew.

"Thank you," you said, because you figured it was a good place to start. He nodded up at you, his eyes not revealing much of anything, but you didn't let that sway you. "You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Of course I did." His voice was stubborn, but too sincere for how little his expression gave away.

You looked down at your feet, letting a moment pass before speaking again. "Well, now it seems like everyone is going to be talking about you from now on."

"That doesn't matter to me." James's voice cut through the air richly, and when you looked back up from the floor he was staring at you meaningfully. "They can say whatever the hell they want. As long as they're not talking about you."

Your shoulders dropped at his words, and the way he held your eyes as he said them made your heart beat faster in your chest. It hadn't even been a full day since you'd last spoken to him, but you already missed him.

"They wouldn't leave you alone," he said concretely, his tone beginning to fill with emotion. "And then, I heard what Marlene said in the common room, about some girl harassing you in the library? I-" he shook his head frustratedly, rubbing at his forehead with one of his hands. "I'm just mad at myself that I've let it go on for this long. Or that I didn't even know that happened."

You already felt too emotional for your liking, the feelings inside of you swirling more aggressively at every word he said to you. "It's not like it's your fault, James."

"Well it's not like I did much to stop it, did I?" He seemed genuinely angry at himself now, and you didn't know what you could do to help. A painful lump was rising in your throat, but you stayed rooted in your spot behind the sofa. "And I'd ask you why you didn't come and tell me, but that'd be a bloody stupid question."

He shook his head, eyes becoming wistful like he was recalling a memory, one that pained him. "Earlier, when Marlene was defending you in the common room, the look on your face was ... I don't know. Crushed. Sad."

You swallowed at the memory, because that had been exactly how you were feeling, amongst thousands of other ways. James looked down at his lap.

"I just wanted to try and help, do anything to make that look on your face go away, but I couldn't. So I just kept replaying how you looked in my head, and the more I thought about it, the more I hated myself because I realized you were only hurting because of me. And that was the worst part. Realizing that it was all my fault."

You felt yourself wanting to take a step towards him, wanting to just reach out to him as the tips of your fingers teemed with the longing you felt in your chest. "James," you began, your voice hushed. "It's not all your fault."

You meant it. To try and say to yourself that you had no part in all the confusion between the two of you would be a blatant lie, one that you couldn't let James go on believing, especially not with the pained look on his face.

He only shook his head at you. "It is," he insisted. "And here you go, being perfect towards me when I don't deserve it." A muscle worked overtime in his jaw. "Marlene was right. I was being selfish, and petty, and a lot of other things, but most importantly, I wasn't being a good friend." He paused, a grieving confliction tugging at his brow. "That's ... that's not what friends do."

You went still then too, the word 'friend' hanging in the air between you with a weight that only made you tired. The truth was that cobwebs had grown in the house where you'd fostered that unforgiving title, and it felt like some intangible force had locked you both inside with it blindly.

"Yeah, well," you began, your voice small, "we've been doing plenty of things that friends don't do, lately.Like you said, we kissed, right?" You let out a breathy sound like a laugh that lacked any joy, and the way James's eyes flickered up at you knocked the rest of the air right out of you.

"About that," he began hesitantly, and you could tell he was thinking about both the night it'd happened and that morning when you'd fought, just like you were. "I know you don't want that to mean anything, so it- ... it doesn't have to. Even if I want it to. Because it doesn't matter what I want—what matters to me is you."

You were thankful you had the couch next to you to brace a hand on, because you'd never felt so swept up by a conversation and you weren't sure how much longer you could stand the way your heart was nagging at you.

"You were right," swore James, but the slight shake of his eyes back and forth on your face didn't look as adamant as he sounded. "It's not fair for me to expect something from you when you already got over me."

The words you'd shouted at him in Hogsmeade that morning sounded foreign and wrong coming from his lips, and you knew the months of dishonesty that laced them like you knew the back of your hand.

"And it's too late now, I get that." His voice went from deep and determined to on the cusp of breaking, and it killed you. "I just want to know that you're happy, and if being happy means being with Vance instead of me, then ... I can deal with that."

You watched as he swallowed, like he was forcing the words to come from his lips even if it pained him. The way he hadn't broken eye contact with you the whole while was starting to make your head spin.

Your blinking sped up, maybe holding back the emotion you knew you was fighting to come out, and you whispered, "James."

Maybe you hadn't been loud enough, or maybe he just knew you'd try to disagree with him again, but he only continued determinedly at you.

"I know I probably went and ruined your chances with Vance, like an idiot, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you another date with him." He nodded at you once firmly, and within a second he was standing up, taking an intentional step forward. "Hell, I'll even go talk to him right now and-"

"James," you called again, louder this time. "Stop."

You put a hand out and it landed on his arm softly but firmly, and all you could was pray you could find the right words to say to him as he stared at you, level with you now in an unsteadying way.

"You didn't ruin my chances with Sebastian. It wouldn't have worked out regardless, even if I'd wanted it to. Because being with him isn't what I want." You shook your head, recalling back what James had said to you only moments before. "He wouldn't have made me happy." You sounded desperate now. "He's not you."

James stilled, his glistening eyes the only thing showing movement as they danced across your face intensely, though you saw them widen with something bright like hope. "What?"

The confusion of the word that he'd practically whispered out unspeakably attested to how you felt yourself, the terrain of the land you were exploring right there and then with James uncharted and rocky. You pushed on, knowing there was no going back now.

"Marlene wasn't completely right, James. She only said all of those things because I'd spent all this time trying to convince her—and myself—that I didn't still have feelings for you. But I do, clearly." You tipped your head down for a moment in exasperation and exhaustion, willing yourself to keep going. "Everyone can see it. All of our friends. Hell, even Sebastian could see it." You laughed, though your eyes were growing blurry. "So for me to try to push those feelings down any longer would just be lying to you and to myself." You let out an exasperated breath. "And I'm so sick of lying."

Your shoulders sunk as you stood there, a steadily shrinking distance between you and James that was both comforting and daunting to you. You couldn't do anything but watch as James's face stilled and then shifted as he thought, studying your own face in a way that made you conscious of every shift in your expression.

"I just," he began, and then raked a hand through his hair. "Why did you feel like you needed to hide how you felt in the first place?"

You felt your mouth go dry at the question—one you knew came only out of a desperate curiosity and nothing else—and your mind began spinning. The last few years of your friendship seemed to swirl in your head, flickering in and out of focus as you tried to come up with an answer.

"I-" you began, willing yourself to say something, anything at all. "I was scared." The words rang true so much that they made your heart pinch. "Scared that you wouldn't feel the same and I'd go and ruin everything. That I'd lose you."

James's hands lifted up from his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, and he did. He took your hand in his, grasping lightly at your fingertips in a touch that steadied you and made you feel lightheaded at the same time. He shook his head at you with a firm hold in his brow.

"You could never lose me."

His lips were parted, and his hazel eyes glistened over in the low common room lighting like the thought of your suggestion was painful enough on its own. Looking at him then, his face lined with years of a comforting, steadying familiarity, you knew deep in your chest that what he said was true. But that didn't alter all that you'd felt for the past number of years.

"It's not just that," you said, looking down at his hand that held yours and blinking away the guilt that crept into your stomach, because it wasn't James's fault that you had felt this way. "Even in Hogsmeade, James." Your voice was becoming unsteady again and it only frustrated you more. "What if everything you said you felt for me was just some spur-of-the-moment thing from some kiss? What if you didn't feel the same way a week from now? Or a month? I knew I wouldn't be able to get over that fear. Especially when I'd been hiding how I felt from you for years. And then there were your feelings for Lily to think about and ... I don't know."

You trailed off, finally able to stop yourself. You felt petty, so petty, because you were so close to getting what you knew your heart wanted, but you felt the insistent need to ruin things for yourself and think of every way things could go wrong. You'd never felt closer to James then, but also never farther away. All you could do was stand there and wait for him to say something, anything.

James stayed unmoving for a beat staring at you, wordlessly taking everything in with a fragility in the air that hallowed your labored breathing. Then he started to shake his head like he was in disbelief. He ran a hand through his brown hair.

"For Merlin's sake."

His voice was low, a mutter, and he stared at the ground for a moment in thought before dropping the hand that once held yours, turning and walking away from you, leaving up the steps to his dorm room. You watched his back as he disappeared, your fingertips feeling cold and empty.

You felt your blinking speed up in a dizzying confusion. You didn't know what had come over you, not even sure exactly what you'd said in all of your desperate rambling that had made him decide to leave, but your vision started to blur even more than it already had until you recognized the wetness forming beside your eyes.

Nothing made sense. Not then, and not in the last twenty-four hours. You moved until you were sitting down on the couch in front of you, feeling lightheaded as the fireplace crackled a few feet away. The light from outside had left with the sun and the room had a comforting kind of warm lighting, though even that did little to soothe you as you sat there with all the unresolved feelings within you.

You were confused and lost and wanted nothing more than to just fix things, but you were even more at a loss for words when you heard quick footsteps coming from the staircase James had left from, and then saw his returning form making its way down the steps.

You turned your head to him swiftly in confusion, following him and his soft but energetic steps as he came to sit next to you, and that was when you noticed he was holding something—a box. One that was tattered on the corners, its black fabric aged and dusting over.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, brows tugging in all your bewilderment as you waited for James to explain.

"I-" he began, and stopped as soon as his eyes focused more on your face. You must've looked as broken as you felt, and at seeing the look on your face, he held one of your hands in his before swiping across your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb.

You felt like wilting under his soft touch that you'd missed more than anything in the confusing weeks, mentally and physically exhausted from everything but still wanting more than anything to understand.

When you looked perhaps more stable, he looked back at the box that he'd set down beside him and placed it on his lap delicately as he spoke, his words echoing out slowly.

"I know you think I've just realized my feelings for you a week ago, and that they came from some kiss at a party. But, you have to believe me when I say that they're so much more than that." He placed the box in your hands, and you took it from him with a note of fragility, resting it atop your legs. His eyes bore into yours, like it would break him if you couldn't understand the words leaving his lips. He took a shaky breath in. "I need you to know, more than anything, that you're everything to me. You always have been."

Your lips began to shake at the earth-shattering words coming from your best friend's lips. "James, what-"

He stopped you with a gesture of his head that told you to look inside the box, and you did. Carefully, you lifted the flimsy cardboard top and placed it to the side, brows pulling together tight and something loud and hearty threatening to pull from your chest. You shook your head as tears began to well over your eyes again as you recognized what James had given you.

The box, the measly and old mess of cardboard and paper, was full of all the letters you'd written to him over the years—all the thank you notes, the letters you'd sent him from that summer and all the past ones—every single one of them. Your eyes raked over each of them when you felt too stunned to use your hands, but your heart still felt touched by the memories of each one all the same. It took everything in you not to release the sob you felt rising in your lungs.

"It's you. It's always been you."

James's eyes never left your face as you took everything in, the look behind them never having seemed so determined, so desperate. But there was something behind the way he looked at you, something so warm and honest, so familiar that you felt ridiculous for never noticing it before. And when your gaze flickered downward for a second in contemplation he tipped his head to follow it endearingly.

"Always," he promised. "Not Evans, not anyone else. I know I'm a bloody idiot, and I know I haven't been great at showing my emotions when it comes to you, but that's because it's you, and you mean everything to me and have since we were kids, and if this can't make you see that then I promise I'll spend every day trying to make up for it, and-"

"James." You stopped him, not knowing how much longer you could take sitting next to him and not getting rid of the frustrated crease between his brows, or how much longer you could ignore the thrum of your heart that called out to him so clearly now.

"Yeah?" he asked, and his eyes were like a deer in headlights. The warmth in their color reflected the simmering warmth from the fireplace, but that didn't compare to the fire that lay behind his gaze.

You placed the box, his box of the last six years of your friendship and then some, atop the couch next to you, and didn't wait another second before engulfing him in a hug. Your body crashed into his as he leaned back against the couch, his hands coming up to embrace you right away, and you heard him breathe a smile by your ear before he laughed, a perfect noise.

You felt like laughing then too, and crying, and everything else, because you couldn't remember the last time you'd gotten to hold him like this without the fear of revealing too much to him nagging at you. Your cheek pressed against his neck, his curls fanned against the top of your head, his hands held you tight, and you never wanted to leave the safety of his arms. Except to do one thing.

You pulled away from the hug and so did James after a second, his eyes wide and glistening but truly happy. He was smiling widely, his lopsided grin appearing after days like the sun after a storm, and you loved the sight more than anything, locking it away in the back of your mind as a memory you'd keep forever, like the box that sat next to you.

You laid a hand on his chest, another on his cheek, and James grasped the one that was flattened on his chest in his own, quickly glancing down at your hand in his like he couldn't believe he was holding it. He pulled you into him with it and leaned his head on yours.

"It's always been you, too," you whispered, and his eyes glanced down at your lips as you said the quiet words that'd been lingering on your lips for much too long. You had to push away your smile because you were aching to just kiss him like you'd wanted to for years. With a courage that could've only come from Godric himself, you finally did.

You leaned in until your lips met, a flutter of skin dancing shyly together until you leaned into him even further, and suddenly it felt like the crash of a wave, and sounded like the earth was moving beneath your feet, the sound of something right—and this time, you knew it felt the same for him too, because you could feel his boyish grin that you'd spent years admiring tugging against your lips.

You were kissing your best friend. For real this time. It felt so impossible for your mind to imagine such a thing, but luckily it didn't have to.

James moved his hands but they never left you, one sliding through your hair smoothly and one delicately holding your waist like you were something fragile. Butterflies fluttered through you at his touch, something familiar but foreign, wrong but also right, and somessilyperfect. You couldn't believe you'd spent all those years just a few words away from getting to feel it, getting to be surrounded by it.

You pulled away after a moment, your lips feeling puffy and burning with the heat of his kiss, but all you could think about was how free you felt, how happy you were that he was finally yours.

James looked down at you, his eyes dancing all across your face and stopping on your lips, and then somehow growing even warmer when they met yours again.

"I can't-" he began with a slight disbelieving shake of his head, voice coming out breathless and dazed as heat flushed into your own cheeks at the sight. "I can't believe..."

You laughed, feeling out of breath too, and adjusted the glasses that now perched crookedly on James's nose in an agonizingly cute way.

"Me neither," you finished for him, because you knew just how he felt, a secret the both of you shared; it was the only secret you still wanted to keep.

And it was a feeling you never wanted to have to live without again. Though now, with him in your arms and his familiar chocolate curls still brushing against your forehead, you knew you would never have to.

taglist!!

@hisparentsgallerryy @msmk11 @garfieldsladybird @empath-bunny @urmykindofwoman @bambi-jp @babyclea @kenjikishimotoswifey @cloudroomblog @the-marauders-mapp @mooonyxoxo @imgondeletedis @moon-flowerrs @fruticake @arey0usirius @marauroon @swiftsgirlfriend @jamieolivia27 @magicwithaknife

[rosabell14]

An analysis of Bianca di Angelo's role in the narrative and why bad writing can screw over a character.

For someone with such a limited time in the narrative, Bianca is one of the most divisive characters in the fandom. I've been in the fandom long enough to see how much nuance the fandom lacks when discussing certain characters and Bianca is no difference. But it's more than just viewing the characters' actions in a vacuum. It's ignoring the larger narrative problems. At the end of the day Bianca suffers from one simple problem: she's barely a character outside of her role in Nico's narrative. Like it or not, her entire character exists to die and give Nico issues down the road but Riordan's writing decisions didn't do her any favours either.

I feel like this is a huge issue when it comes to the pjo fandom they often try to come up with Watsonian solutions to problems that are Doylist in nature and Bianca is one example of that.

Case in point: Riordan's shit math when it comes to the Di Angelo siblings and how it messes up with bianca's character.

So when we meet them they're 10 and 12. We learn that their memories of their past is kinda hazy and that they don't remember their parents but that they were in a boarding school, then they moved to the lotus hotel, then they were taken out of the hotel and put into Westover's. And at the end we learn that they're Hades's children born before the oath of the big 3.

Said oath happened after WW2 btw. So 1945 probably since Bianca remembers FDR's presidency.

Now in TLO we get an update on this backstory. Hades is speaking to Maria about moving his children to the underworld or the lotus hotel since Maria doesn't like the former option because the war has put Hades in a bad situation with his brothers and also the prophecy is out, the oath has been taken and they're running out of time to hide the kids. So logic says that it's 1945. And then Zeus immediately kills Maria and Hades tells Alecto to erase the children's memories and put them in the lotus hotel, and honestly? I like this version much better? Because why in the world would Hades Put his children in a boarding school for a few years and THEN hide them in the hotel after they were nearly assassinated? Why not immediately put them in the hotel?

And so we get to our main dilemma. Bianca having to raise Nico. This was already strange to me because it's not as if this is a Jason and Thalia situation where Jason was a toddler and Thalia had to take care of him. Nico is not a baby they have a two year age difference. But of course these kinds of things might matter more if you're young. Even then, in what situation would Bianca be Nico's main caretaker? They were put into a magic hotel that mind you, makes time go faster so for them it was a month or two at best and they would have been given whatever they needed by the staff? Same type of issue with Westover's and the boarding school if you want consider that canon. They would have been taken care of by the facility. They probably wouldn't even have shared classes or dorms? Or am I misunderstanding American boarding schools?

And then, Riordan's bad math strikes again and this time with the characters' ages. Because Nico's age in HoO becomes 14 which would have made him 11/almost 12 in TTC but that's not the big problem, no no no. The problem comes from his official birthday which is 1932.

1932... Which would have made him 13 and Bianca 15 by the time Maria dies. Which is hilarious because with the way the kids are written during her death scene as absolute non players with nary a reaction, you would think they were written to be toddlers who didn't understand anything that was going on.

That royally screws over Bianca as a character (and me as someone who's trying to write a story centered around her). Because her main thing. The one time she's allowed to have complexity is the moment where she talks about how she wants to be more than Nico's caretaker, and she's barely Nico's caretaker at all. The best in universe explanation I can come up for this is that this is how Bianca perceives things because that's all that she literally remembers. Those months in the hotel and Westovers.

Another time the plot kinda messes her up is at the beginning of TTC. One complaint that I often see in regards to her Is how quickly she makes her decision. She does not even hesitate. She does not even wait to see the camp. You know the place that would have taken care of her and Nico which would have meant she wasn't going to be his supposed primary caretaker anymore? She doesn't even wait to see if it was an actual good place for her brother? Spoiler alert: it's not camp half-blood at the time was not a good place for either of them really. Nico did not have a cabin at camp and people were not accepting of him. Hell, people not being accepting of hades and his children was something established since the first book.

But once again, this is a Doylist problem at its core. We need to turn Bianca into a hunter but we also need Artemis to leave so that she can be kidnapped for the main conflict, so she leaves before the hunters even reach camp. Half-blood. So Bianca as a character doesn't even get to make a proper choice between the camp and the hunters. To people who only look at characters on an in universe level, it comes off as very rash and not well thought out.

To be fair, on an in universe level, she's a kid so it's okay if she's stupid, but Riordan wasn't trying to make her come off as that way? He treats Bianca's decision as a legit serious choice and not the rash decision of a desperate child.

And once again, Bianca is here for Nico's sake more than anything. She needs to die. So she takes the statue for Nico. Which is so ironic and tragic if you decide to play it that way. That Bianca wanted to be more than Nico's sister, but her literal death revolves around being his sister. Normally I'd enjoy this level of angsty irony but unfortunately that's how the very narrative treats her as well. Even her post mortem decisions are there to maximize Nico's angst more than that they're there to say anything about Bianca herself. We need Bianca to only appear at the end of Botl so that Nico and Percy can have a conflict but it once again comes at the cost of Bianca herself coming off as callous. What's the in universe reason for this behavior? It's so stupid because in universe, Nico doesn't even take that much convincing? One conversation. One conversation and Nico was convinced to stop his efforts in reviving her. Does she just not know her brother enough? Maybe since they technically know each other for a year max. Does she genuinely think she's that easy to give up on? Is she that conflict avoidant? I actually like this interpretation and plan to use it. There's much to be done with a character who's rash and bold but an absolute emotional coward who'd try to avoid an emotionally charged conversation until they absolutely can't.

Hell even after Botl, it's the same song and dance. Hades makes an absolute vile remark at Nico's expense. TSATS makes it into a joke moment and has you believe that Hades simple said that Bianca would have been a better demigod. No ladies and gentlemen. Hades literally tells Nico that he wished Bianca had survived instead.(The fact that I still think that hades is the best godly parent just shows you how low the bar is more than anything.)

I swear to God I spent so much time racking my brain trying to understand what this could mean for Bianca's character.

This is how I basically look like trying to milk every scene where Bianca is there as a character or is mentioned for every drop of characterization.

At the end of the day, I can't blame most of the fandom for being ambivalent towards her at best. The story by design is about Nico. It's designed for you to sympathize with him and yeah if I'm to look at it from Nico's perspective. He DID get abandoned, regardless of Bianca's intentions. From his Perspective , which is the one most people would take, his sister took the very first chance she could to ditch him for people she barely knew hoping people either of them barely knew would take care of him even though they haven't even seen the place yet, and then ignored him for months while he was desperate for a single conversation with her. Honestly had Nico outright resented his sister for leaving, I think the reaction towards her would have even been worse.

(Another sidenote, my very hot tea Is that I like to believe that had Bianca lived her and Nico's relationship would have become worse as time went on and as the camp's anti hades sentiments really started taking their toll on Nico. But I'm just an angst lover)

Worse is that this story is told from Percy's perspective and these two only have like 3 actual conversations together. One of them is her dying, one is about her making her first main decision and that's at the expense of Nico who's probably the fandom favorite behind Percy and Annabeth and the other is her trying to explain her aforementioned decision to Percy and even then, she talks about it in such broad strokes. "I want to be more than X" tells us about who you one day wish to be not about who you are at the current moment. And even when we have Nico as a POV character, Bianca is only there for "dead family member" trope. There's barely any moment where Nico remembers anything important about her to give her any depth. The cards are just stacked against her. Even the people who are at the "Bianca did nothing wrong camp" are barely interested in her. I swear to god whenever an AU comes up where she's alive, the focus is STILL on Nico. Oh Nico would have been such a happy person had she lived! And Bianca? Uhhhhh she would have fucked off with the hunters I guess?

Can we talk about the hunters while we're here?

If we WERE to talk about in universe scapegoats, I'd honestly choose the hunters. Honestly I could make a separate post about how much I hate how Riordan handled them. But oh dear God the way they're presented just comes off as creepy. The way they initially (up until TOA) only go for young girls because apparently older girls aren't useful once they hit puberty and start developing feelings for people and lose themselves(TTC and Percy Jackson's Greek gods oh dear lord are they terrible in Percy Jackson's Greek gods). How they're basically the heroine dumping ground for when Riordan doesn't know what to do with a female character. How ultimately in universe, Zoe more than anyone is to blame to for Bianca's death by taking an untrained girl to a mission where she KNOWS two people would die at the very least. And she doesn't even watch her properly during the mission. Honestly I could barely feel anything about Zoe's death upon rereads as an adult for this very reason. Or how stupid it is to basically put a child in front of a candy store and expect them to make a responsible decision. Who in their right mind would have young girls as young as nine take a celibacy vow? Oh but you'll be safe with us (never mind that we're not just normal hunters here like the actual myths but actual monster hunters) and you'll totally be able to see your brother when you want (actually we barely visit camp half-blood) oh but you'll be a FAMILY with us! Except you know if you catch feelings or get assaulted(holy hell how Riordan depicts the myth of Callisto makes me want to tear my hair out of my scalp)

[mariako-750]

LISTEN TO ME RAMBLE ABOUT AVA XI NOW THAT IT DROPPED!!

SPOILERS FOR AVA 11↓↓

So. Suddenly my list is different. Now my ranking of which hollowhead suffered the most changed to: TCO🥇→Victim🥈→TSC🥉→TDL🏅.

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Coming back here to edit and say that it is now

Victim🥇→TCO🥈→TSC🥉→TDL🏅

Because I'd rather have powers and be a slave for four years than be killed and revived and killed and revived again and again for months.

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Also, Mitsi. I am sorry for everything I've said. Please come back. You are the opposite of Gold. You are actual gold. Please babygirl(/gn) come back...

You mean to tell me that by naming the stickfigure Victim every time, Alan brought Victim back to life each time and tortured him until creating TCO in November. My baby was being tortured, abused, for *five months.

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Yeah, so, looked at the dates again, it really was actually ten months.

Alan you sadistic teenager- I would do the same, gonna be honest.

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I still don't like Vic x Mitsi because after watching Hunter Street and thinking beyond "omfg they are so cute" I can't think them of anything else besides siblings. Mitsi is the Anika to Victim's Sal(honestly any of the siblings with Nika works). Mitsi is the extroverted, joyful and energetic younger sister to Victim's introverted, traumatized and anxious older brother.(To me.)

The village and Mitsi and Vic make me think of the family from Stuck In The Middle. Just a bit.

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(I went back as I was writing this and saw

At 13:54. I am sad now. I am sad, you can't stop me, I will jump off-)

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ALSO WE CAN'T FORGET THIS.

AT 16:06-16:12(I THINK)

HOLY SHIT PURPLE AND THEIR PARENTS!?!? SO WE WERE WRONG! VICTIM DIDN'T BUILD A CHICKEN COOP, THERE WAS NO INTERACTION BETWEEN THE MERCENARIES, WE GOT MORE PURPLE BACKSTORY!? THAT WAS THE ONE I WAS SO SURE ABOUT NOT BEING TRUE!!!

Vic and Agent...... Vic checking to see if Agent is hurt....

Agent has been here since Mitsi was around.... He was one of their first employees.... So close that he cried when Mitsi died....

And the torture scene in The Box wasn't for nothing... It wasn't just to force answers out of TCO... It was to get revenge... Oh god.... Oh Vic baby.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY??? I??? I'M SPEECHLESS???

[becauseimanicequeen]

The Timelines in 4 Minutes

Since the Olympics are finally over, and I have three episodes of 4 Minutes to go on, I thought I would spend some time trying to figure out the timelines.

I'm someone who figures out what I want to say by writing it out, so this post will most likely be me "thinking out loud" and drawing conclusions as I go, and then, at the end, I'll have a clearer view of the timelines (hopefully).

(This is most likely going to be one long-ass post, so beware.)

Let's start with some initial notes before I dive into the fun stuff.

The contents of this post may be influenced by some of my theories (pre-premiere theories, episode 1, episode 2, episode 3), and I might come up with new ones as I write this post (they will be highlighted in purple so possible readers of this mammoth post can choose to ignore them if they want, lol), but my focus is primarily on the timelines themselves and, perhaps, on the passing of time throughout the episodes as well.

As I start this post, I believe there are 3 timelines (which are subject to change as I continue to write):

The present timeline, which is what starts off both the 1st and the 2nd episodes (these are events from the future from our current vantage point).

The 4-minute timeline, which is where Great changes things (I've previously called this the OOBE timeline, since I believe Great is having an out-of-body experience and is "reliving" his past).

Then there's a possible third timeline (I've previously thought it might've been the real past, which showed us events that actually happened in the past paralleled with the 4-minute timeline) but I'm most unsure about this one, so I'll just call it the 3rd timeline until my thoughts are more clear about it.

Now... Where the hell do I start?

Time

It might be a good idea to start with the clues that there are different timelines at play and then dive deeper into the episodes to figure out what's happening.

Besides the obvious clues that Great is sent back in time when he has his moments of the 4-minute phenomenon (4MP), there are other clues that different timelines are at play.

The first clue shows up in the Korn and Tonkla scene from the 1st episode and all the way through to the scene where Korn drops Great off at his place after their family dinner.

This is where I'll be crazy about the details (but I'm a hundred percent sure they matter, especially since this whole show is about time), but if we look at Korn's watch when he arrives at Tonkla's place, it says 7:15-ish pm.

Later, when Tonkla wants a second round, it says 8:55 pm.

Then they get interrupted because Korn's dad wants him home for dinner. They have their family dinner, and then, when Korn drops Great off at his condo after dinner, Korn's watch says 7:15-ish while the clock on Great's phone says 07:13.

(Great already has issues with time, which I believe is the effect of him having a cardiac arrest at 11:00 in the present, but the time anomaly in this particular sequence is different than Great seeing 11:00 and counting when he's alone.)

This whole sequence is meant to be the same day Great hit Manee with his car. All of them (even the dad and Great's mom) are wearing the same clothes they wore when introduced throughout that very same day. Yet, the times on the visible watches and clocks tell us something strange is going on.

(Could this just be me overanalyzing the watches and clocks? Sure. But the interesting thing is that the time is still consistent in the sequence with Korn and Tonkla. It would make sense that they talk, then fuck, and then lie there butt ass naked and cuddling for a total of 1 h 40 min. And, again, considering this show is about time, I trust that the creators have been meticulous about those details, even if it means changing the time on the watches and clocks for every new take if needed.)

Considering what I wrote above, I might start calling the 3rd timeline Tonkla's timeline, because I feel like it revolves around him.

Either way, I will focus on the 4-minute timeline and the third one in particular because I don't see a possible 4th one right now (I might by the end of this post, though, lol).

The question is, then, how we can determine which scenes belong to which timelines. I will get to that further below, because first...

Let’s look at some more details I’ve noticed.

Blurry Edges

One of those details is the dreamy, blurry edges (I'm sure there's a technical term for this, but I have no idea what that might be, I'm just guessing that they're adding it in post-production, but don't quote me on that). Much of the show has a dreamy feel overall, but I'm talking about the blurry edges in particular.

I've noticed blurry edges in the following scenes:

When Great feels iffy in the elevator (ep 1)

I'm pretty sure there's some of it happening in the scene when Tyme is treating Manee, both in the ER and in the OR during the surgery (ep 1)

At the family dinner when Great's mom tells him he should go see Manee at the hospital (ep 1)

When Great feels iffy at the hospital before his second 4MP (ep 1)

When Great is sitting in Title's car talking about where View is (ep 2)

I'm not sure about this one since it's hard to tell because it's dark, but it might be used in the scene where Title beats the shit out of Dome (ep 2)

When Great brings Dome into the hospital (ep 2)

When Korn is having a meeting with Fasai and her dad (ep 2)

When Great feels iffy and has his fourth 4MP at the basketball court (ep 3)

When Win reads through Tonkla's brother's social media posts and comments, which is a memory of him doing it (ep 3)

And I'm pretty sure we're getting more of this since there were scenes in the trailer that had those blurry edges as well, for example:

The pattern I'm seeing with these scenes (if we exclude the first scene in the elevator, Korn's meeting with Fasai, and Win's memories, the latter might've had blurry edges just because it was his memory, btw) is that each scene has something to do with Great's 4MP, before the rewind and/or after the rewind.

(Perhaps the reason for the blurry edges showing up in Korn's scene is because he's the possible third character that's having an OOBE. And if this theory is true, there's a possibility that there's yet another timeline/reality/perspective present that entwines with both Tonkla's and Great's timelines.)

There are also the tilting camera shots (mostly showing up in scenes with Great), which I might get into next week as I continue to build on this post.

But, what does all this with the blurry edges mean?

I have no fucking clue.

Perhaps it's just meant to show that things aren't what they seem. Perhaps it's meant to show which characters are experiencing OOBEs (Great, Tyme, and possibly Korn)? Perhaps it's meant to show moments that are affected by Great changing them through his 4MP? Again, I have no fucking clue, yet (but it might start to get clearer as we get more episodes).

So, moving on...

Different Realities/Parallel Worlds/POVs?

There is another aspect to this whole timelines discussion I'm having with myself that I want to bring up. And that's the clues I've found that support the possibility of different realities/parallel worlds/different point-of-views. I'm not sure what to call them, yet.

So, let's dive into the moments I'm referring to and try and figure it out.

The second time Great experiences his 4MP, he goes to the ER's front desk and we're shown the nurse's actual desk where there's a clock that we're supposed to focus on because it's telling us that time will do weird shit again.

The moment Great has been sent back in time (after being in Manee's room), he's standing in the same position, looking down at the clock on the desk, and realizes it's happened again (just like when he hit Manee). However, this time, the things on the desk are different.

The time on the clock is the same, but the mirror is in a different position, 75 has turned to 74 (I'm not sure what these numbers mean), 77F has turned to 76F (which I'm guessing are Fahrenheit degrees), and the pink, blue, and yellow papers are lying on top of the folder the second time around.

If Great was sent back in time to the exact moment he was in before he went to Manee's room, the things on the desk would've been in the same place, right? So, he might not even have been sent back to the reality he was in before this 4MP happened.

Another clue is the sunrise and the sunset artworks on the wall at the hospital. We often see them by the entryway:

Then, in the 2nd episode, it looks like at least the right one is hanging outside Manee's room (which we've seen isn't anywhere near the front desk since Great had to walk around a bend to get to her room in the first episode).

Could they have more than one of those artworks in the hospital? Sure. So, take this with a grain of salt.

(Btw, I find those artworks so fascinating because sunrises are usually cooler (more blueish) while sunsets are usually warmer (more red/orangeish). But from our perspective, looking at them straight on, the warmer artwork has the sun setting in the west while the cooler artwork has the sun rising in the east. And, since the eye in left-to-right reading cultures often automatically goes from left to right, it's interesting that the sunset comes first and then the sunrise. Perhaps it's to show that the world is turned upside down now that Great is having these weird experiences. Or perhaps it's to show that the time between the sunset and sunrise will be important for Great and Tyme since Great watches Tyme pass those artworks (from sunset to sunrise) the first time he has visions of them having sex. But, I digress...)

Another set of clues is in the scene with Great and Tyme sitting on the bleachers by the basketball court and Great has another 4MP in the third episode.

The first time we see this wide shot, there are 5 people (excluding Great and Tyme):

4 of them are wearing white shirts (one with a darker cardigan), and they sit on Great's side. One wears a blue shirt and sits on Tyme's side. This is where Great asks Tyme why he didn't call before coming to the University.

As they continue to talk (and the camera shot is closer to them), you can see the top of the head of a girl walking towards the bleachers. There's also another person walking by, waving, but he's walking right past them rather than towards the bleachers.

Then, as Great thanks Tyme for the Thai tea and gets up to leave, we get this wide shot. The only difference here is that the girl who walked towards the bleachers is now sitting next to her friend. That seems logical, right?

But, then Great has his rewind, and he comes back to the moment where Tyme reminds Great to get his wound treated. Great tells Tyme about his precognition and Tyme tells Great that he will consult with one of his doctor friends. Then, as Tyme stands up to leave, we get this wide shot:

The two girls at the bottom left are in the same position but the girls two steps above and to the far left are different, the boy and the girl next to them are new, and the boy with the white shirt to the right is the same boy that sat on Great's side previously.

Coincidence?

Well... After Tyme tells Great that he can call him Tyme rather than Doctor, and Great says that they should grab something to eat after he gets his wound treated, we get this shot:

Now we're back to the original two girls to the left, there are new boys wearing black on the bottom left, and the boy in blue is back again. That's a lot of moving around in such a short time.

The only things that stay consistent in all of the shots are the bags (except for one of them) and bottles.

So, what's going on? Is this another one of those things that happened at the hospital where Great was sent back to a reality where things were different from the reality he was in before the 4MP?

Is the show giving us different perspectives? For example, Great's perspective before his 4MP, Tyme's perspective when he says he'll talk to Den, and Great's perspective again when Tyme has left? That could work for the hospital example as well since it was from Great’s perspective before the 4MP but turned into Tyme’s after the 4MP as he asked the nurse at the front desk who the guy that bumped into him was.

Or is the show just underlining how strange everything is during the 4-minute timeline (and Great's possible OOBE)?

Well, the latter might not be it because clues like this don't just show up when Great is around.

In the first episode when Korn comes to Tonkla's place, Tonkla's laptop shows he has something blue and yellow on his screen:

Then the screen is black as if it's been turned off:

Later, when it cuts to them lying naked on the sofa, it's just white:

Also, notice how the small spotlight behind the desk is positioned differently and pointing in another direction on the desk than in the first image above.

Could it be that Tonkla simply used the laptop and moved the lamp between them having sex and lying there? Sure. Again, if we look at Korn's watch from the beginning of this whole sequence (7:15-ish pm) to when Tonkla wants a second round (8:55 pm), we know he had 1 h 40 min to rearrange things and do stuff on that laptop.

But, you know, unless the house is on fire, who would move from that spot on top their sugar daddy who is lying there deliciously naked? And especially to do some stuff on a laptop? Fuck technology (the not-so-good kind of fuck) and fuck your sugar daddy instead (the deliciously bad kind of fuck). We all know Tonkla wants to. But, I digress...

Take this detail with a grain of salt if you want to (or a whole fistful). For me, though, this shows that there's a possibility that changes and inconsistencies like this aren't just happening around Great. And (to my crazy mind, at least), that it might be two timelines showing up throughout this particular sequence between Korn and Tonkla.

24 Hour vs AM/PM Clock Settings

And on the topic of inconsistencies... Another thing I want to point out is the inconsistencies with the digital clocks when it comes to them being 24-hour clocks or set to the am/pm thing.

The hospital seems to have a 24-hour setting in some cases:

But not in others:

This could be in the morning, of course, and the darkness outside Manee's window might just be because of the thunder/lightning storm (but I still think it's night rather than morning).

And then we also have Great (who, to be fair, has a special relationship to time in this show), who sees 11:00/11:02 both in the morning and at night:

And the am/pm thing is on his phone when Korn drops him off:

Even though his phone seems to have the 24-hour setting:

More than once:

But, again, Great clearly has issues with time and clocks/watches. So, this might just be a way to show how confusing it is to him.

But, what if it isn't? What if it's an indication that several realities are entwining? (Okay, I feel like I'm going with the term "realities" when it comes to this.)

My Timelines So Far

So, what are my conclusions after watching the first 3 episodes?

At this point, I think there are 3 timelines:

The present timeline.

The 4-minute timeline.

The real past/Tonkla's timeline (which is meant to show us the real past events that happened, most of it from Tonkla's perspective).

Having Tonkla's timeline be the real past is possible considering the inconsistencies in time during the Korn and Tonkla scene and then the Korn and Great scene in the 1st episode.

And before someone says this doesn't make sense because of all the missed calls Korn has (if anyone is still reading this, lol)... Well, that's because Korn exists in both timelines and the scene when he looks at the missed calls in that bathroom in the 3rd episode:

Could be the 4-minute timeline rather than Tonkla's timeline (the real past). That could make sense because all we've seen of Tonkla since Korn told him off over the phone is him waiting by his phone for Korn to call.

We never saw Tonkla call Korn again after being told off.

On the flip side, if Korn is in the real past when he looks at those missed calls in episode 3, it would make sense that when he wants to call Tonkla while he's waiting for Great at the bar (in the 4-minute timeline), the icons on the top right of his phone are different from the phone he looked at in the bathroom:

(Am I getting too crazy about this? Yes. Do I care? No, because it's fun.)

Could he be using different phones? Yes. Could those icons change depending on where he is and what settings he's using? Sure (I'm not familiar with Samsung phones so I have no idea what most of those icons mean). But it could also mean that we're seeing Korn in different timelines in these two scenes, which makes it possible for Tonkla's timeline to show us the real past.

(I personally prefer the option that the scene with Korn looking at the missed calls is from Tonkla's timeline (the real past) while Korn almost calling Tonkla in the bar, and then smiling at his phone as he's going to the bathroom, is from the 4-minute timeline where Tonkla's brother (who I believe is Dome) hasn't been killed.)

Also, I think showing us the real past is a smart way to show us what leads up to Tonkla beating the shit out of someone.

(I believe that scene is from the real timeline, and whoever he's beating with that rock, might have an effect on the things that are happening right now. I'm not sure what kind of effect, though. Perhaps it's a possible third person experiencing an OOBE and "living" in the 4-minute timeline. Perhaps Great is going through this OOBE to prevent that murder from happening after he wakes up (if he ever does). I'm not sure at this point.)

So, that's where I'm at with the timelines after 3 episodes.

And, when it comes to the inconsistencies in certain scenes, the easy answer is that they are just meant to show that this whole 4-minute timeline is an inconsistent mess of (what I believe to be) Great's OOBE.

But, I would personally find it more interesting if these inconsistencies (like all the people around Great and Tyme changing in that scene at the basketball court) are evidence that there is more than one character experiencing an OOBE and that the inconsistencies shown are there because the characters have different perspectives of the events happening.

Now, I had planned to make a flowchart of the scenes in each episode divided into the three different timelines I've written about above. But, I want to get this post out before the 4th episode drops tomorrow, and I just don't have time to make the flowchart before that (or enough images left in this post to fit something like a flowchart in it before I hit the pesky limit). So I'll wait with that chart until next week instead (when I'll continue to build on this post in a reblog).

Waiting to create and post the flowchart until after the new episode tomorrow also gives me another episode to nerd out about. It's a win-win for me.

[erinwantstowrite]

Let me just quickly say, cross-overs can sometimes get REALLY difficult to map out and write in a cohesive way but you have absolutely NAILED IT!! I absolutely ADORE LoF!!! I usually don’t even bother reading fics with the ‘Richard Grayson is Richard Parker’ premise cause I felt like they were super confusing and overcomplicated but this fic?? SUPERB. ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE. OH MY GOD I ADORE IT. Everyone’s characterizations are so nice and wonderful aaaaaaah!!!! <33333

Ok ok I did actually have a question as well: would you be willing to share what your writing process looks like in terms of a chapter you’ve already posted? I was just wondering since I’m also currently working on my own fic (it’s been a few years but I managed to get fixated on an idea and it grew legs lol) and I’m currently fighting the organization of it haha.

How do you keep track of the plot points and/or foreshadowing you want to get a ‘lightbulb!’ moment for later? Do you have any tips?

Thank you so much! I absolutely adore your writing AND your art is so gorgeous omg it adds so much to the incredible story :DDD I hope you have a good day!!

I have a secret: I actually didn't like "Richard Grayson is Richard Parker' tag for a while for the same reason. Sometimes they felt like they missed the mark or it's just. A thing that's there? I almost didn't include it for LoF, but I'm glad I did because it changed the direction in such a big way.

Another secret: this made me incredibly happy because I have read so many wikis and scoured the internet to make sure that I had enough info on both fandoms so LoF could make sense to anyone who's reading it, whether they know Spider-Man, Batfam, or neither at all. Sometimes I worry a lot before I post that I'll miss a mark and will confuse people.

As for the question: I definitely am willing to share what my writing process looks like!

Be prepared for under the cut, I love to yap. It's in my blood to yap. And that's why it took a minute to get to this ask haha

(Spoilers for Leap of Faith!! Everything mentioned has already been published ((Chapters 1-11))

I had to go and find out which chapter I wanted to use as an example and I think we're gonna go with Chapter 5 for the most part :)

My writing process is, as described by alighterwood:

I think the description fits because while I'm all over the place, I have to be very detail oriented and I store everything in one spot.

Starting with the overall process, what I find is most helpful for me, when organizing, is having a notebook rather than doing it all digitally. I've been using a 70 sheet notebook that I had lying around waiting to be used, and as of yesterday, I officially filled the entire thing front to back. It's been an incredible help, for a lot of reasons, but mostly because it's a lot easier to remember something I physically wrote down than it is to remember something I typed. I'm now on to my second notebook for LoF, and I might even have to get a third.

In another ask, startupkat asked me this:

And I shared a little about my outline process there, but I'll try to go into a little more depth here. Emphasis on little because this is so long.

I write a truly insane amount of outlines in this notebook.

This is just what I can show you, but a good chunk of the notebook is just outlines. Over and over and over again. That's because they're always changing/adapting based on so many different factors. Sometimes I get to a chapter I thought I had fully planned out and then realize it just doesn't work anymore. Other times, I get to the chapter and realize I don't want to write that anymore/isn't as interesting as I thought it would be. A few times I got halfway through a POV of a scene I was struggling on and decided to switch POV's, which will change up the outline for a chapter every now and then.

Which is why I don't write incredibly detailed outlines and try to keep it vague until I actually get to that chapter. It's a lot less daunting to rewrite a chapter outline than it is to rewrite the entire outline.

Fic outlines and Chapter outlines look a lot alike.

This is what I said in the other ask, but I didn't elaborate on it all the way.

I make a list just like that, and then I try to put it in chronological order/in an order that makes sense. I keep the Fic outline vague by writing down "Goals" for a chapter rather than scenes. But I also keep notes to myself if I really think something is important. The more important I think a scene needs to be, the more details I write down to make sure my future self recalls what I had in mind when I thought it up.

Really simple example:

Chap 1 Goal: Peter gets to Gotham and meets Babs while running around. Meet Nightwing too? Get shelter.

Chapter 2 Goal: Bats are like "???" about Peter. Batfam dynamic important... Peter stalking Batfam back? Peter meet Batman >:)

When I get to a chapter, that's when I make a far more detailed list of wants/needs/goals. It's the Step 2 from the Step 1. Here are some examples from Chapter 5:

Needed to have:

More POV's from universe 1299 (Peter's home universe)

Tony's POV more specifically, how he's doing/feeling, what he's figured out

What they've figured out on 1299 side vs what's going on in 1300 (Gotham)

Explaining more about Peter's trauma/his past

Dick learning more about Peter, and vise versa

Wanted to have:

Ned being a more central character

Natasha :)

Loki being a little shit

Tony and Cap bickering

Peter talking to Nightwing again

The last name Grayson

Gymnastics!!

(This is the shortened list, because the chapters are so long)

When I looked at this list before writing my outline, I had to figure out how I could incorporate everything. If I needed more 1299 POV's, and I wanted Ned, Natasha, and Loki, there's one scene accounted for. I had to get their side of things and wanted that trio together. I needed a Tony POV, and I wanted Tony and Cap bickering, so those went together, plus I got 1299's POV of Ohnn and his plans explained.

I needed to have Peter explaining more about his trauma, and Dick and Peter to talk/get closer. I wanted a Nightwing POV, to have Peter say his last name, and them doing gymnastics. I knew Peter wouldn't willingly talk about that, so I had him have a nightmare. Not only did it give readers perspective but it made Peter more susceptible to talking to Nightwing because he was more emotionally vulnerable/lonely, and that's how that scene came together.

That's when I would write down the chronological order of these events by writing out "Scene Blocks." (This is what I wrote down but my handwriting was so bad I can't subject y'all to it):

scene 1- Ned talking to Loki. Natasha should be nearby and observing Loki's behavior. They are not on friendly terms. Ned is more worried about Peter than he is as to what Loki could be up to, so Natasha takes on that role.

scene 2- Tony is freaking out about Peter being in an alt dimension. He should attack Ohnn when he's not prepared for it. Beat his ass? Beat his ass. Cap there too.

scene 3- Peter's nightmare. "Ben, where do you go when you die?" "Where do you think?" "With you. Where you went."

scene 4- Nightwing and Peter.

Of course, things come to attention when writing. Like originally, Tony and Cap were arguing in the Tower. But it was a little too much like his and Natasha's argument, and I kept in mind that Tony is smart. Sometimes I forget that the characters are smarter than I am, so I have to account for what they would figure out. So Tony would have picked up the puzzle pieces and come to more conclusions than I originally thought about, and I figured he'd be way more proactive about it than just. Being in the Tower and waiting.

Which means that that scene ended up being as listed above: having a squabble with Cap, learning more about Peter's dynamic with the Avengers in this universe, and seeing how Tony is reacting to it by throwing himself head first into trying to capture Ohnn.

I'll realize I need something else to be mentioned or put in and I'll have to shimmy things around, but that's basically how it goes.

As for other forms of organization:

Keeping a timeline is so important because it tells you a lot about the environment your characters are in. It's also important to remember what a character has on them, what money they've spent, who they've met/who you have mentioned, every alias that is being used, to read your work and write down edits you want to make before you make them, to write down ideas beforehand of situations you can use, and, most importantly: MAKE A MAP!! This has saved me so many times. Sometimes your brain WILL trick you or make it harder on you to envision a scene. Make a map of where your characters are physically!! It will save you too!!

As for foreshadowing and plot points, I'll let you in on yet another secret:

Your subconscious is doing a lot more than you think it is.

Sometimes when I foreshadow something, I didn't even know I was until I got to it. I very often go back to read chapters that came before this to see what I've mentioned and what I haven't, and when I do, I'll see something and go "I have to bring this back" or "I almost forgot about that!"

Other times, I am very aware of what I'm foreshadowing, and that's because I follow a mystery plot formula. You have to keep in mind everyone's intentions, all the time. How are they feeling? What are their motivations? And: what are they doing right now, while this character is doing this?

Like Beck and Ohnn. From the very beginning, I knew I had to make sure that it was obvious Ohnn wasn't working alone. From there, I had to weave through the story and slowly build him up as someone who's working behind the scenes. Even from Ned's first POV, I made sure to mention that this person knows Tony and is tech savvy.

My biggest tip is to make sure you reread your work or at least skip through it, because sometimes you don't even know that you placed something there.

And sometimes, it's very purposeful. :)

I hope this helped! I really tried to keep it short but I am insane and the process is sooooo long. It sounds complicated but it really is simple when you're actually doing it I swear

[bamsara]

A03 Questions Tag Game

I got tagged by: @kagedbird I tag: @onethirdofimpossible, @coffincrows, (first two that come to mind) and anyone else who wants to do the game

1 – How many works do you have on AO3?

At the time of writing this post, currently 30 fics. (Not including any fics or written works that are not posted to AO3)

2 – What's your total AO3 word count?

1,066,633

3 – What fandoms do you write for?

Formerly: Don't Starve, FNAF, Dragons Dogma, Invader Zim

Currently: Cult of the Lamb

4 – What are your top five fics by kudos?

Solar Lunacy, Celestial Omens, Bytes of Lunacy, The Rehabilitation of Death, Saturday Insomnia

5 – Do you respond to comments?

I try to but I also get very nervous responding because I often don't know what to say back and I feel like it's almost rude or disrespectful to respond to a comment, esp the very nice ones that are long and in-deph with just a keysmash or a bunch of emojis, but I do read every single one since I have email notifications on for them

I'd like to sit down and respond to many but I really don't want to make it awkward so pls dear god readers forgive me

6 – What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't like unhappy endings. I enjoy angsty stories but I like when it's at least ending happy to me

7 – What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Not posted? Solar Lunacy

Ongoing? TROD

8 – Do you get hate on fics?

Not really? Most adults (in my experience) know the 'don't like don't read' rule and know basic online etiquette. I've gotten some for discontinuing a fic or switching fandoms though

9 – Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't write or draw NSFW! I like to make some suggestive themes sometimes, but I'm a very ace person, it's not something I do often. (I do have a current running goal that if my friend reaches their donation goal for their medical bills that I would give NSFW a shot, but again its not really my cup of tea)

10 – Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Nah I haven't written any cross overs, but I do draw them sometimes. Recently I've been spinning a Alice in Wonderland x COTL crossover in my head.

11 – Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yep. I've had people copy and paste my work, go in with a thesaurus to change a few words (like changing 'angry' to mad, 'upset' to 'sad', and so forth) to try and avoid detection and re-posted my written work under a different title name. AO3 staff took them down for violating their policy against plagiarism though

12 – Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I wouldn't mind it so as long as I'm asked before hand, though not on anon so I can actually work with the person to prevent any mistranslations or mishandling, and that I don't want my work posted to other websites

13 – Have you ever co-written a fic?

I think I did when I was a teen but I cannot remember now

14 – What's your all-time favorite ship?

Eh I don't have any favorites, just ones I really focus on for a long while

15 – What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Pass.

16 – What are your writing strengths?

I can sit down for hours or several days and work on a writing wip completely in the zone. I cant do it on command but its at least something I can do

17 – What are your writing weaknesses?

Spelling and grammar, and sometimes long running sentences. I just kinda write, theres not really a goal for it to be perfect though so as long as the story gist and vibe is right, im fine with it

18 – Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I've done it before but only minor, had a friend help me with it (one or two lines of dialogue) Aside from that, I'm not comfortably fluent enough in anything to do it again without assistance

19 – First fandom you wrote for?

Soul Eater, when I was wayyy too young to be posting anything on the internet. My fanfics I wrote are still on fanfic.net to this day

20 – Favorite fic you've written?

It's inbetween TROD and EE&E right now

[bekkathyst]

Hi, long time customer (although I admit it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten anything new) and I have a question about what responsibly sourced means for your business. I’ve seen more and more stuff about the crystal mining industry and I don’t want to have to stop buying them. I will if I need to but I want to know like, where REALLY do your crystals come from? How do you know/what do you mean by responsibly sourced? From other small businesses? Where are THEY getting them?

Mostly I just really want to continue supporting your shop if I can with my purchases but I think I should just ask to make sure.

Hi! Thanks for asking; I think it's an important thing to discuss. I've talked about all of this before but it's been a while, so I thought I'd write it all out again. If things are unclear it's because I'm running on very little sleep atm and a bit overwhelmed with work, but I would be happy to answer any clarifying questions as needed!

So for me, responsibly sourced means that I care about who I am supporting and try to make the best decisions that I can. While it is true that there's no way to 100% know what's going on unless you visit a mine yourself and watch them work, that's why I think that getting as close to the source as possible is really important. I've spent the last 11 years building long-term business relationships with people who own mines, dig crystals themselves, or have smaller operations and employ a lot of their families. There's a huge difference to me between supporting a couple in Uruguay who owns a small mine or two and has their whole family involved in the business versus buying African diamonds from a British company that's been exploiting the land and the people living in it for over a century. The smaller the mine and company, the better. A lot of the people that I work with have introduced me to their whole families, seen my daughter grow up over the years, and often times they'll invite us to visit their country and visit their mines with them. (I'm not in a position to do any world traveling atm lol but I hope one day I can go do this!) I think it's super important that the people from the country where the stones are being mined are the people running the business and actually making the profit from it - not someone from a completely unrelated country coming and taking over the operations and making massive profits by exploiting and mistreating the people who live there.

Also to clarify, I work with wholesalers. As a retail business owner, I can buy from these mines and companies because I have a business license and buy in large quantities to resell; they usually don't sell to the general public, or if they do, it's just at mineral shows once or twice a year. Over the past decade, I've met so many great people at shows and then stayed in contact with them in between shows and have been able to continuously order from them.

So I aim to work with these miners directly as much as I can, but if I do work with a general wholesaler who offers things from several different countries, I use my best judgment and ask questions to make sure that their values align with mine and they're doing their part as well. I also work with a few carving companies that buy rough in bulk from various countries and carve and shape the stones - same thing as above applies.

And it goes further than that too, because if someone does really anything that goes against my personal morals, I stop doing business with them. The strongest example of that that I can think of is there used to be a warehouse I worked with in the US that imported directly from Brazil, but one time the owner said something really racist to me and Antonio in a joking tone. After that, we cut all ties and never went back. It still makes me mad to think he ever got any of our money.

I think this about sums it up, but if you have further questions, I'd be happy to answer after I get caught up on work :)

I'll just end this by saying that you know what you're comfortable with and you shouldn't do anything that goes against your beliefs! I'm running my shop in the way that I think is right but of course, there will always be people with differing opinions.

[lanadelnegan]

Can you do a pt 2 to your Negan and reader fuck buddies story where some guy gives a his jacket to reader because she gets cold and Negan is working outside and he can see them and when she goes over to him later he's like "who's jacket is that" and she's just like "idk some guys" and he's like "you don't remember his name?" And she's like "No, not really" and then he just whispers good and starts kissing her and then it hits reader that he's super jealous and she starts smiling and shit and they end up having rough sex (matting press pls 😈)

Anon request #2: I love your writing so much and i LOVED your latest post for Negan omg can you do a pt. 2 or something where Negan sneaks off with reader during the day and eats her out since she sucked him off before 🙏 again you're writing is absolutely amazing keep up the amazing work ♥️

___________________________________________

Gonna combine these two since they're similar! Thanks for the requests, ilyyyy 😘

Lip Gloss (Pt. 2)

S10/11 Negan x Reader

Part one here

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), semi-public sex, heavy breeding kink, mentions of future pregnancy, mention of death (negan threatening other men)

It's been a few days since I've visited Negan in his cell, so when I spot him across the yard doing some gardening, I can hardly pry my eyes off of him. They just started letting him help out around here, and I'm happy for him.

I try not to stare, not wanting others, or him, to catch me in the act. I just got back from dropping some supplies off at Hilltop, and I continue walking, eager to finally to get back to my own house. I shiver and grip the unfamiliar jacket closer to me as I walk past him, hoping he doesn't notice me. I can't risk someone seeing us.

"So that's how it's gonna be, huh?"

I walk slower but don't turn around.

"You've gotta be kidding, y/n. Not even a hi?"

I turn this time, walking over to him while glancing around. Luckily everyone is either in their homes or far enough away where they won't notice.

"Negan, it's not personal. You know that. But we can't be seen being all sweet on each other."

He grins down at me cockily.

"Then don't. Slap me. Yell at me. Do what you have to fucking do, but don't ignore me."

When I don't respond, his face turns serious and his brows come together. "Whose fucking jacket is that?"

I look down, blushing a little. "I dunno." My hands slide in the pockets. "Some guy's."

"Oh, some guy? You don't remember his name?" He whispers down at me.

"No. I was just cold, Negan. I didn't even ask him his name." I look at him confused.

The side of his mouth raises into a smirk. "Good."

"Aw, is someone.. jealous?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

Without warning, he grabs my wrist out of the jacket pocket and pulls my body against his before pressing his lips into mine.

After a couple seconds, I jerk away quickly and look around. "Negan! What the fuck!" I whisper yell at him.

"No one's lookin', doll." His hand presses into my lower back, pulling me into him again. His other hand tilts my chin up to kiss me again.

"Someone could be looking from their window." I say in between our kisses.

"Then let's give them a goddamn show." He deepens our kiss, slipping his tongue in my mouth as I moan into him.

"Negan." I breathe out.

"Come see me tonight, baby. It's my turn to make you feel good."

"No. I need you.. now."

His smirk widens into pure arrogance as he looks down at me. "Hell baby, I am not gonna say no to that." He looks around to make sure we're still alone. "Come on."

He leads me to the side of one of the houses until we're out of sight before crashing his lips into me hard, pressing my back into the exterior wall.

His bulge presses into me firmly and I reach for him but he grabs my hands.

"Not so fast, baby. I am fucking starving." He whispers as he unbuttons my pants, quickly sliding them and my underwear down and off my legs. My eyes widen as I look around, hoping no one walks by.

"Negan.. maybe we shou-"

Before I can finish, he's on his knees in front of me, throwing my leg over his shoulder, and burying his face into my pussy.

My mouth gapes open as I stare down at him. He licks from my hole to my clit before stopping and sucking it lightly.

"Oh my god." I breathe out. "Negannn." My fingers lazily grip his salt and pepper hair as I moan out.

He pulls back for a moment to look up at me.

"God, baby. You gotta fucking come see me more. This pussy is my new favorite meal." He dives back in like a starving man, devouring me from the inside out.

"Negan.. Negan, I'm getting close." I whimper out, leaning my head against the wall and pushing his head closer to my center. His tongue laps at my dripping hole while his nose nudges my clit.

"Can you squirt, baby? Want you to spray those delicious juices all over my face."

I shake my head. "I’ve never, uh - I don't think so."

He chuckles before pressing his face back into my cunt.

"I do." His lips move against me as he slides his middle finger teasingly through my folds and slipping it deep inside my pussy. He curves it in a "come here" motion while sucking my clit simultaneously and my orgasm hits me like a tidal wave, almost knocking me from my feet.

Negan steadies me with his other hand under my thigh so I don't collapse.

"Fuuuck! Negan!" I suddenly feel a pool of warm liquid between my legs and he groans loudly, licking up every drop. "That's a good fucking girl!" His deep voice vibrates my center.

He pulls back once he's licked up every drop. I blush at the sight of my wetness glistening on his lips and beard.

"I knew you could do it, baby. So fucking proud of you."

He stands up and I slowly trace my lips over his, rubbing my own wetness from his mouth over mine.

The faint sounds of voices appear in the distance and I quickly throw my pants back but not before realizing my panties are gone. I look at his jeans to see them sticking out of his pocket.

He shrugs innocently when I look at him and I roll my eyes. Such a Negan move.

"You just gonna leave my blue balls hangin', sweetness?"

I grab his hand, leading him to the back of the house, which happens to be mine. "You have such a way with words."

"So I've been told." He grins as we enter the backdoor and I waste no time kissing him and leading us to the couch.

"Y/n, listen. We need to talk first." He interrupts.

"What's there to talk about? I need you in me." I continue kissing him while taking my pants off clumsily.

I quickly discard the jacket, then my shirt and bra, leaving me completely exposed to him.

"You are such a fucking smoke show, doll. Holy hell. Don't know what you're thinkin' givin' an old man like me the time of day."

I shrug. "Not a lot of options around here."

He chuckles before slowly walking towards me. "No? Maybe you should go live with your boyfriend at Hilltop, then."

"Maybe I will.." I whisper up at him before he picks me up suddenly, throwing me over his shoulder.

I yelp as I'm turned upside down. "Negan!"

He walks us towards the first door he sees, my bedroom, and kicks it open forcefully while smacking his hand on my bare ass and throwing me on the bed.

"Negan! You just broke my door!"

"Not the only thing I'm about to break, sweetheart.”

I lean up on my elbows and watch him undress. My mouth waters when his cock finally springs free.

I bend my legs, raising my knees and spreading my legs apart in front of him while my hand drifts to my aching center.

Negan watches me lustfully while he pulls his t-shirt off.

"Y/n. Remember when I said we needed to talk?"

I nod my head and slowly circle my finger around my clit. "Yes." I moan out quietly, keeping eye contact with him.

His eyes drift towards my pussy, watching me touch myself for a moment before meeting my gaze again.

"I care about you." He admits.

My finger drops lower to my hole before teasing it. "I care about you too, Negan."

He climbs on the bed on top of me, grabbing each of my wrists and bringing them above my head.

"I'm serious, y/n. I'm tired of sneaking around." His eyes search mine.

"So what does this mean? For us?”

"I don't want to hide what we have anymore."

"Negan - if they find out.."

"Then what? They cut off our heads as punishment?" He says sarcastically. "They'll get over it... Do you want this? To be together?"

"Yes." I breathe out.

That's all he needs to hear before crashing his lips into mine and kissing me passionately. My hands rub over his smooth back as our tongues explore each other's mouths.

“Told you you’d my girl eventually, baby.”

I'm so caught up in kissing him that I barely notice him positioning himself at my opening, until he rams into me in one swift motion.

I moan out as he stretches me open and thrusts into me fast and deep.

“I know how we can show them who you belong to.” He whispers lowly.

“H-how?”

“I could pump you full of my cum every fucking day until my baby grows inside of you.”

My eyes widen. “Negan…”

He smirks. “It’s okay, baby. We don’t have to rush it. You’ll want my baby.. eventually.”

“No.” I quickly blurt. “I want it. I want you to put a baby in me.”

“Yeah?” He smirks down at me as he fucks me faster.

He leans back on his knees for a moment before wrapping his arms around my thighs and bringing them up, spreading them as far as they’ll go before leaning back over me and fucking me harder than before.

He’s so much deeper from this angle and I moan out loudly as his heavy balls slap against me.

“Negan! I’m cumming!” I cry out and he growls, pounding me faster and deeper.

“That’s right, baby. Let go. Soak my fucking cock.”

And I do just that.

His hand reaches down between us to swipe up some of my juices with his finger before sucking them into his mouth. “Cant get enough of this sweet fucking cunt. Could drink you like water, baby.”

I kiss him, tasting myself on him and we moan together. “I could cum just from the taste of you.” He whispers in my mouth.

“So cum.” I whimper and his head falls lazily to the side of mine as he buries his face in my neck.

He groans in my ear as he stops thrusting, pushing himself deeper than I thought possible. My legs wrap around his waist and dig into him as I moan from the feeling of his cock pulsing and seed filling me to the brim.

His lips find mine again as he starts pumping himself in me slowly, deliberately pushing his load deeper and deeper.

“Cant wait to see this belly swollen with my fucking kid, baby. He says before finally pulling out.

I smile lovingly at him as he gets dressed. “Negan, it’s starting to get dark. They’ll wonder where you are soon.”

My heart hurts at the thought of him leaving and sleeping in that stupid fucking cell any longer. But now isn’t the right time. We need a plan.

“I know.” He drops his head while climbing off me and the bed and dressing himself.

“Fucking sucks. I wanna stay with you.”

“You will soon. We’ll find a time to tell everyone, but not tonight.”

Negan just nods understandingly. “I’ve waited this long. A few more lonely nights won’t hurt. At least I have these to keep me company.” He shoves my panties deeper in his pocket while raising his eyebrows at me.

“I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay? Come on, I’ll walk you out.” I lace my fingers between his as we walk the short distance to the living room and back door.

He picks up the strange man’s jacket from the floor on his way out, flinging it over his shoulder irritably.

“Don’t worry, doll. I’ll dispose of this for you.” He reaches for the door before turning around and placing a gentle kiss to my lips.

“Oh, and if another man offers you another goddamn article of clothing, I’ll hang him with it.”

The end. Xx

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

For your ask game ~ 📖 🦉 🔞

Worth the Risk - Jack Delroy/Reader

Warnings: Female reader, no use of Y/N, making out, almost fully clothed grinding, clothed fingering, bit of exhibition/voyeurism, vaginal sex.

Wordcount: 6317

Summary: He'd given you his card, invited you to the studio with the promise of a good time, and the show had been amazing for sure, but did the night really have to end once the cameras turned off?

Notes: I really wanted to write this the other day but I was too sleepy and went to bed early y'know like a baby 😖 anyways I've been wanting to do a sequel to Susceptible since I first posted it and somehow it ended up even longer so this is for you hehe hope you enjoy~ 💗💗💗

Wait for me by the back entrance at 11:00 Phil will let you in JD

You don’t know how many times you’d looked at the card he handed you since that night, but the corners were starting to bend and the pen marks were beginning to smudge, just a little. You forced yourself to leave it be as you checked your appearance one last time, the mirror by the front door to your apartment offering its final encouragement as you decided there was nothing left you could do to delay your departure before you were late. As soon as you were out the door you had to resist the urge to sprint, your heels sending muffled echoes down the hall as you headed straight for the elevator, a kindly old woman holding it for you with a smile. 

You had the sense to call a cab early so you wouldn’t have to risk waiting and missing your 11PM deadline, the car stalling right outside the door as you waved to the driver and got inside. ‘Fiske Studios, please,’ you tell him, the small building owned by a branch of UBC now very well known thanks to a certain Mr. Midnight. Your leg bounced the entire way there, the card once again in your hands as you stared out the window, neighbourhoods giving way to open city streets, more cars circling around you like a school of fish. You hated driving in the city, it was the main reason why you dedicated so much of your paycheck to cabs, but tonight you were starting to wish you’d driven yourself as you hit the tenth red light in a row.

The driver sensed your anxiousness as you bit your lip for just a split second before your purse was opened and your lipstick was uncapped, the tiny mirror in your hand reassuring you that it’d be fine, you looked great, it was an easy fix. ‘Hot date tonight?’ he asked over his shoulder, his voice startling you a little as you snapped the mirror shut again.

‘Uh, going to a live show, actually,’ you said cautiously, avoiding a yes or no to his question; it’d be too presumptuous to say yes, but god if you didn’t want to hope. ‘I’m meeting a few friends there, don’t wanna be late and all.’

‘Oh, well, girl’s gotta have some fun on a Friday night, I guess,’ he said as he looked you over in the rearview, your coat pulled a little tighter over your shoulders as you forced a smile and tried not to look to disgusted; this was yet another reason why you were so fond of Jack Delroy, he’d never make you feel that way, what with him being such a gentleman and all.

The memory of the night you met made you shiver briefly as the hallucination flashed through your mind again, the false feeling of his hands on you having haunted you all week. You sucked in a very long breath through your nose as you willed the pink to leave your cheeks again, the last thing you needed right now was this guy seeing you get covered in goosebumps and assume it was because of what he’d said. You actually hadn’t been able to watch Night Owls since that night, feeling almost guilty about it even though there was no way he would know you hadn’t seen all the exciting things he’d been talking about. You’d tried last night, but as soon as the wall had opened and he’d strolled on out with that smile and his eyes instantly finding the camera you’d become a right mess way too fast and had to turn it off again, your heart pounding and your legs pressed uncomfortably tight together just at the sight of him.

Goddamn you Carmichael Haig.

The studio came into view with the latest turn and you readied yourself to get out, money already in hand by the time the car had stopped. The bill was settled and you stepped out into the cool night air, cutting off the driver’s wish for you to have a good night with the slamming of the door, and you took a look around and tried to guess which way would lead to the back door he’d mentioned. You waited until the car was out of sight, pretending to see your ‘friends’ so it wouldn’t look like you were about to walk down a dark alley by yourself, another deep breath exhaled sharply as you summoned up all of your courage and headed to the right.

It was a large alley, big enough for a car to drive down and reach the parking lot out back, which thankfully held just as many people walking about as the front did. A lot of them favoured a large, metal door up a tiny flight of stairs, keycards flashed to unlock it before it was held open for several people at a time, everyone helping each other in the most efficient of ways. You had no idea which one Phil was supposed to be, and if you waited too long you might get pinned as a fan trying to sneak in, so the next time someone approached the area you were lurking in you got the card back out and held it out to him.

‘Um, I’m supposed to find Phil?’ you said uncertainly, the man looking you over before taking the card. ‘Ja- Mr. Delroy told me to meet him here.’

‘How’d you meet Jack?’ he asked, clearly recognizing the handwriting but wanting to be certain all the same as he handed it back to you.

‘At Carmichael Haig’s show, we got to talk for a little bit,’ you explained, your nerves starting to rise the longer you were out there, the paranoia that you wouldn’t be able to get in starting to rise in your chest.

‘Ohhh, so you’re the one he was telling Gus about,’ the man said with a grin, your back straightening at the very thought of Jack talking about you with anyone, let alone with someone in a public place. ‘Yeah, he told me to expect someone, I’ll take you up there now if you help me carry something, save me a trip?’

You agreed to his terms, the man apparently being Phil as he shook your hand and handed you the box he was balancing on one arm as you talked. He quickly jogged back to his car to grab another box before returning to you, the door held open for you both as you squeezed past another employee and followed him through the maze of hallways and way too many doors to count. The studio itself was actually on the second floor, the first dedicated to offices and meeting rooms and other businessy things, the elevator able to just barely let you both cram inside as everyone got ready for the taping.

‘Is it always this hectic?’ you asked before you realized you were even opening your mouth, Phil just laughing and adjusting his box.

‘Every single night.’

Once the elevator had pinged and the doors had slid open, Phil then led you through a few more hallways until he pushed through a locked STAFF ONLY door, even more people on the other side, although there was more to the area back here, your eyes widening when it hit you that this was the back of Jack’s set. Phil noticed your excitement and set his box down on the nearest table, taking yours in another swift movement before motioning towards the slightly ajar wall panel; the audience’s seats were just in view through the crack, some people already coming in and finding their spots, and you were just in the middle of wondering if you should attempt finding an empty one when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

‘Quite the view, isn’t it?’

You turned to see Jack standing behind you, a look of pure bliss on his face as he watched the band get ready, Gus talking to someone and going over scripts off to the right, the few audience members chatting with each other as they guessed what they’d see that night. He truly loved this job, you could tell he did even after doing it for so many years, and seeing him so in love only made you love him even more. He looked down at you then, a fondness in his eyes as he gave your shoulder a squeeze and led you around back, a little tour before you had to leave him.

‘I’m glad you came,’ he admitted as you took everything in, everyone shifting their gaze towards the both of you as long as they thought they could get away with it. ‘Been looking forward to tonight all week, what did you think of the lineup?’

‘I, uh-’ you trailed off as he pulled you out of the way of a staff member carrying the requested items for tonight’s guest, your coat suddenly feeling way too warm to still be wearing inside. ‘I missed out on them, actually, been a busy week,’ you lied, avoiding his face as your cheeks lit up; you were not about to tell him that it was because looking at him made you remember how he’d felt pressed up against your waist, even if it was fake.

A shiver ran up your spine as you then realized that the heat against your back very much wasn’t however.

‘I’ll have to tell you all about it later, don’t want you missing out on anything,’ he said with a grin, your lips trembling as you tried to keep your smile from getting any bigger. There was no way he’d actually do that, he had to be too busy to entertain you when the PMs turned to AMs, but it was a nice thought indeed.

‘I’d like that,’ you admitted either way, happy to live in the fantasy for just a little bit at least.

‘Jack!’ someone called from just out of sight, a curly-haired man in sunglasses hunting him down with expert precision as he hurried over. ‘Gus just told me you’ve been saving seats all week, you wanna explain why that is?’

‘And there’s my cue,’ he whispers in your ear before using your shoulders to turn you and guide you back to the slit in the wall. ‘Middle front row, furthest left seat,’ he whispered before pushing you to the other side, his attention turned to his producer as he descended upon him for losing them money. You listened for just a second before it hit you that you were there, you were really there, your mouth dropping open as you slowly spun to check out the Night Owls set. People were whispering about who you might be but you didn’t care, not leaving until you heard Gus clear his throat and ask what you were doing.

‘Finding my seat,’ you mumbled, although maybe it had come out as nonsense in your delighted stupor, you couldn’t be sure at the moment.

‘Okay, do you have a ticket?’ he asked, still so polite even though he was very much confused. You just held up the card again, your eyes going higher as you stared at all the lights. ‘I see, so you’re the one he’s been waiting for, right this way.’

The one he’s been waiting for? Clearly you must’ve misheard, Jack Delroy couldn’t possibly have been that excited for you, you’d only spoken for maybe five minutes, tops.

Gus led you to your seat and you instantly sank into it, a 40 minute wait still ahead of you but it felt like no time at all as the rows all filled up and people slowly stopped walking across the set to prepare. On either side of you, cameramen took their places and lined up their shots, the blue screen of the viewfinder catching your attention as you couldn’t help but see what they saw. Gus got himself ready by the band, who were all tuned up and ready to go, and when midnight hit and Gus started calling out that night’s guests, you couldn’t help but bite your lip again as Jack’s name was announced and the wall opened up again to reveal him.

He’d been right, it was an incredible show, his presence so much more overwhelming as you could only focus on him no matter who he stood or sat beside. Every single one of his jokes landed, every eccentric wave of his hands drew you in without fail, and every single smile he shot your way when you laughed only confirmed more and more that you were genuinely glad you came. He tried to talk to you during the breaks but each time he’d been interrupted either by one of his co-workers or someone in the audience ready to snatch up his attention, Jack too polite to refuse either, although it was honestly starting to make you a little jealous.

Before you knew it, his hour had passed and he was saying goodbye, your chest deflating as he was played out again along with his final guest, your hands a little numb as you gave him his well deserved applause. You didn’t want to get up and leave as the rest of the people around you did without hesitation, a chorus of yawns starting to infect everyone like a virus now that it was officially bedtime. You were rooted to the spot, hands clasped in your lap as you wondered if it’d be too presumptuous to assume that maybe he’d come back out again when everyone was gone, wish you your own personal goodnight, people staring again as you waited until you accepted that you’d fulfilled his request, there was no need to stay now.

‘Oh good, you’re still here,’ Jack panted as he jogged over to you, a sheen on his cheeks and forehead from the excitement of the night mixed in with the hot stage lights, ‘I was worried you’d leave when Leo grabbed me just now.’ 

‘I’m in no hurry,’ you told him as you stood, your clasped hands hiding behind your back so he wouldn’t see you fidgeting. ‘It was a great show, I had a lot of fun tonight.’

His smile turned from Showman Jack to Genuine Jack at that, your ability to always tell coming in handy yet again as you tried to hide your blush by tucking your hair behind your ear. ‘I take it you had a more enjoyable time with me than at Haig’s, then?’ he asked, your blushing deepening at his choice of words.

‘I did, yeah.’ Everyone was packing up for the night around you, no one giving you a passing glance as the desire to get home and sleep overtook their curiosity, and when he stifled a yawn you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty at keeping him. ‘All good things must come to an end though, I suppose; I should really get heading back, it’ll be a nightmare to find a cab this late.’ You didn’t want to go, but you also didn’t want to press your luck either, and maybe you’d get another invitation to another show, who knew?

‘I could give you a ride, if you wanted,’ he offered, completely catching you off guard as your eyes widened for a second in surprise. ‘Or, if you’re truly a night owl like me, you’d prefer to join me for a drink? I always grab one after a show, can’t sleep otherwise.’

You swallowed, mouth cotton dry as you went over his offer in your head a few times; was he asking you out on a date? He had to have been, who else went out to get a drink together at 1AM other than people on dates, right? ‘Yeah, a drink sounds great,’ you finally managed to squeak out, the corners of his eyes scrunching when he smiled before offering his arm for you to take, a true gentleman. He led you back through the labyrinth until you reached the parking lot, his car parked in a spot with his name plastered against the wall behind it, most of the other cars already gone now that their owners were free.

His car was simple, nothing too flashy like someone else in his position would own, the seats worn on the inside and telling you that he must’ve had it for many years. You tried not to look too nervous as he unlocked his door and let himself in, his long body stretching across the front so he could unlock the passenger side as well; an old car indeed, he was taking very good care of it for it to still look that good. You thanked him as you sat down and shut the door, the smell of his cologne stealing your breath away as you were surrounded by purely him, the faint smell of smoke mixing in with it, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried not to look too obvious.

He shot you a glance as he clicked his seatbelt into place, the noise making you come back to your senses and do the same so he could start driving. There were quite a few bars around there, some late night diners as well, and you grew more and more confused as he drove by all of them without a word. By the time you left the city and started to head towards a more residential area, you were starting to wonder if you were going for a drink at all, not remembering ever telling him where you lived, of course this neighborhood was much too nice, maybe you should be flattered if he thought you lived around here.

‘Are we still…?’ you tried to ask, your question dying out as he then turned into the driveway of a very nice but modestly sized house, all the lights off inside telling you that no one was home. He didn’t turn off the engine though, his eyes on the wheel before he turned to you, a hopeful something in his eyes that mirrored your own.

‘Would you like to come inside? Or should we try calling that cab?’ he asked you gently, giving you the choice of what you wanted to do now that you knew where you’d be drinking, your heart thumping a little faster as you adjusted the strap of your purse and flashed him the most confident smile you could muster.

‘You did promise to tell me all about the shows I miss,’ you reminded him, Jack’s smile softening as he agreed with a, ‘Yes I did.’ The engine shut off and you both exited the car, the night air making you shiver as you held your coat a little tighter over your arms. He noticed immediately, his suit jacket draped over you before you could confirm or deny you wanted it, heat spreading throughout you as the scent of his cologne hit you even harder. You wrapped yourself up in it, face tucked into the collar as you headed for his front door, always a few steps behind until he unlocked the door and pushed it open, allowing you to go in first.

It was a modest place, decorated more cozily than anything, and you felt right at home as you stepped inside and took a look around; the walls held photos of family and friends, his coworkers and people he’d met through Night Owls spaced out around them, the surfaces of every table and shelf decorated with something and filling the space while also feeling sparse. Cozy was definitely the right word, but it also felt like a bachelor pad in the way he’d left clothes draped over the back of the couch, how the kitchen was pristinely clean from rare use based on the amount of menus he’d collected into the holder by his phone, and the dedicated minibar off in the corner so he could entertain guests.

He headed there now as you observed your surroundings, his voice breaking your thoughts as he asked you to pick your poison. You gave him your desired drink request, Jack’s eyes shining as he located the bottle amongst the plethora of them in his reserve, whisky placed next to it as he located a couple of glasses next. ‘Ice?’ he asked casually as he poured both drinks, you kindly refusing as he grabbed a couple for himself. The ice crackled in his glass as he returned, the sound pleasant to you and filling the air as he handed you your drink. ‘I’d offer you a seat at the table, but my back is killing me tonight, if you’d rather join me on the couch?’

What a liar, you could always tell when he was acting. You accepted anyways, pretending to buy into it as you both took opposite ends of the old leather couch situated in front of his fireplace. The cushions creaked underneath as you sat down, Jack letting out a sigh that didn’t sound fake as he relaxed, his body sinking right in before he took a sip and turned to look at you. You blushed and looked away, focusing on your glass as you swirled the contents around, now wishing for ice since watching it would be a good distraction.

You’d been so focused on his home that it was starting to dawn on you that you were in his home, on his couch, drinking his liquor, his focus on nothing and no one other than you. ‘Dreamer, here, awake,’ you whispered softly under your breath, remembering what Haig had said to snap you out of it and needing to make sure this wasn’t just another dream.

‘What was that?’

Oh god, it wasn’t a dream, you were really here, and his arm was now on the back of the couch, casually reaching towards you as he tilted his head to the side with an amused grin. 

‘So, how did the shows that I missed go?’ you quickly choked out, Jack chuckling at how your voice sounded way more broken than you’d wanted before downing the rest of his drink and setting the empty glass on the coffee table in front of him.

‘Well, on Monday I got to interview someone about his upcoming play, so that was interesting,’ he began, his body turned more towards you as he spoke. ‘On Tuesday, we had a man who sailed halfway around the world and narrowly survived being shipwrecked, and he read us an excerpt from his captain’s log, which he revealed he’ll be turning into a book to preserve the memories of his shipmates.’ He slid a little down the leather, genuine interest in his eyes as he spoke, that another thing you loved about him. ‘Wednesday was Game Night, as you know, and one of our audience members managed to win the jackpot and gave us a victory dance to celebrate. Gus tried to attempt it and fell on his ass, so everyone made me try it and I nearly crashed into my stage, everyone had a lot of fun that night.

His voice started to soften as he moved a little closer, your body frozen in both awe at what you’d missed and also the sight of him starting to fill up your entire view, your drink forgotten in your hands.

‘And then on Thursday we took a call from a man who thought he had superpowers, can you believe that? He truly believed he got them from another dimension, so fascinating.’ He was just about to slide over the middle cushion, your legs pressing tightly together so you wouldn’t touch him on accident, your lip worried between your teeth again. ‘I asked him to come on the show, but he hung up, I hope he calls again next week.’ His arm was completely behind you you finally noticed as his thumb brushed against your shoulder just enough for you to feel it over your coat and his suit jacket, the heat of both starting to make you sweat as he stayed just outside your personal space, ever the gentleman as he waited for you to tell him to back up. 

You didn’t, your tongue darting out and tasting your lipstick as you glanced to the side, seeing just enough of him to know that he didn’t look dangerous, or overly sexual like your fantasy had been, his actual expression one of wonder as he remained just out of reach. You felt like you had to comment on his week, say something in response to what he was telling you but you couldn’t, the sound of his thumb running over the fabric directly in your ear as you finally took your first sip.

‘Sounds like I missed a lot,’ you eventually said, Jack nodding and shifting as he got comfier, the movement sending him a little closer to you. ‘Maybe you should invite me back again, I could probably make time for that.’

‘I’ll have to see if I can get you an actual ticket this time, then, Leo was very unhappy I snuck you in.’ His voice was so low as you took another, bigger sip, his arm sliding off the back of the couch and just barely resting against the very bottom of your neck.

‘Is that what that was? I’ll be sure to use the front door next time.’ Another sip, his other hand in plain sight on his thigh as it traveled down towards you. 

‘I think I’d prefer to escort you in myself, so you don’t get lost, it’s like a maze in there.’ You watched his hand just barely touch the hem of his jacket, a soft hum leaving his throat as his eyes half-lidded. ‘You look good in this, I might have to let you borrow it more often.’

‘You assume I’ll need it again? How presumptuous of you,’ you joked in an attempt to keep things light, but it fell flat as you looked at him while you said it, his expression rendering you speechless in seconds. Now that you were facing him he couldn’t resist the urge to touch your cheek, his fingertips just barely brushing against you and making you shut your eyes as you tried to lean against them, the contact causing shivers to run down your spine at how incredibly gentle it was.

‘I really am glad you came tonight,’ he whispered as he leaned in, breath soft against your face as you both held off from closing the gap, ‘god, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’

You nearly dropped the glass, Jack placing his hand over yours to make sure you didn’t before taking it away entirely. ‘Y-you’re just telling me what I wanna hear,’ you repeated from your fantasy, Jack leaning away to set the glass down before letting his forehead rest against your own.

‘Is it working?’

You grabbed onto his tie and pulled him into you, your mouths crashing together as you kissed him with all the need of someone who’d wanted this for years. He braced himself on the back of the couch as you leaned against the arm, your body arching up as he rearranged how he was sitting to kneel over you. He wasn’t as forward as your fantasy, which was understandable considering you knew very well that he’d only acted the exact way you wanted, but instead you discovered that he was slow, making as many points of contact as he could while giving you space. He was obsessed with kissing away the rest of your lipstick but he never tried to take more than you were giving him, your bodies still too far apart as he caressed you.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ he repeated as his hand left your jaw to travel down to your hip, not to hold down or make you keen but just to feel the soft curve of your body; he was committing you to memory, tracing over each wrinkle in the fabric, each place that made you squirm just a little.

‘Jack…’ you sighed as he pushed both coats aside to gently kiss at your neck, small things that made you want beyond the sweetness, the love. ‘Don’t make me wait anymore, please…’

He pressed a single kiss to your jaw at that, sitting back just enough so he could look at your face. You turned away, embarrassed by your neediness, but he turned you back to him with only a whisper of a touch, a plea instead of a command. ‘How long have you been waiting?’ he asked, lips hovering just above yours, pulling away when you tried to close the gap.

‘Years.’

He kissed you again, a little rougher this time as his own need was made clear, his body shifting down until he was laying himself on top of you, and for however real your fantasy had felt, it was fucking nothing compared to the weight of him pressing pure want directly into your waist. It made you gasp how good he felt, your legs spreading until your skirt wouldn’t stretch any further, the desire to hike it up all the way so you could feel him a little better making you almost actually do it. It was him who made that move when he felt you struggling, your legs pressed into his almost uncomfortably, and he placed his hands at the hem and waited for your okay, not wanting to do anything without your permission.

What a fucking gentleman.

You nodded and he lifted your skirt, your back arching off the couch so it could be bunched up, your underwear on display just the smallest amount before your skirt was let go. That small amount made him blush, his lips parting as he then palmed himself to ease the strain of his own clothes, his nice suit pulled taut over his dick as he kneaded. It made you want him even more, the fantasies of seeing him like that deciding to play like the world’s longest and lewdest film in your mind, reminding you of every single thing you wanted to do to him, what you wanted him to do to you.

‘I want to feel you,’ you told him, his eyes fluttering shut like the quicktalking showman Mr. Midnight couldn’t handle a bit of dirty talk; he was so cute it almost hurt as he moved his hand aside for you, granting you access to the space while he tried to undo his belt. You rubbed him over his pants, listening to the sounds he was making and letting your desire grow with each one, and when his belt was undone and his zipper was down you tugged just his pants over his hips just enough to show off his bulge a little better. It strained over the opening, the sight so tantalizing that you’d risk staying hypnotized forever if this really was just another dream, his body laying down over yours again as you wrapped your leg around him.

He started to grind against you, the fantasy definitely not doing him justice as a sinful heat warmed you up in an instant, the coats much too hot as you tried to strip them both off. He helped you but didn’t stop moving, each thrust just enough to create the best friction you’d ever experienced. There was no audience this time, no one to risk ruining this for you, and you took full advantage of that as you let out a deviously loud moan when he rubbed against you just right. 

‘God…’ he panted into your neck, hips moving just a little faster, and it felt good but it wasn’t what you wanted, not entirely. You reached down between where your bodies touched to try and get a hold of his boxers, your nails catching over the waistband just out of reach. He felt your attempts and knew what you were trying to do, his face unsure even though he still couldn’t stop. ‘Are you sure?’ he needed to know, his hips finally stilling for the most part, your eyes watering with how much you meant it as you told him yes. He groaned as he reached between your legs, feeling your wetness seeping through your panties as you moved against him, your head instantly falling back.

The sounds you let out were indecent, he wasn’t even inside you yet and he was making you fall apart just because it was him who was doing this, his fingers rewriting your brain and telling you that you’d never be able to get off on just your imagination ever again. He played with you as his other hand pushed his boxers down the rest of the way, his dick falling free and making him hiss as he gave himself a few strokes, the sound getting you to look up. Your legs twitched as you almost came just from the sight alone, his eyes shut tight as his head lolled to the side, his impressive length looking even bigger in his hand as he got himself ready.

As soon as he felt your eyes on him he locked onto you, his big, showman smile showing a little more teeth than usual as he let you watch, his own sounds almost addicting as he let you know exactly how good his own hand felt. Between the sight and his hands making the both of you feel good, you didn’t know how much more you could take of this before you were shoving him down, Jack sensing your desperation and leaning back over you. He pulled aside your panties and rubbed you a couple more times before pressing his waist against yours, spreading your wetness along the underside of his shaft, grinding against you this way until you were practically begging him to do more, please.

He chuckled at your reaction before taking himself in hand again, spreading it even more before holding himself up to your entrance, one last chance to back out. You made sure to lock eyes with him as you grabbed his tie and pulled him down to you once more, your mouth falling open as he pushed deep inside of you the more you pulled. You didn’t stop until you were full, the two of you panting into each other's mouth before he started to move, both of your legs wrapping around him this time as you tried to take him even deeper.

It was hot, you were sweating, you could see the sheen on his cheeks and forehead again as he suffered in the almost entirety of his suit versus your outfit, and you helped him relieve some of his suffering as you started to unbutton his shirt. You shoved it off one shoulder before he was tearing it off of himself and tossing it away, your own shirt pushed up to reveal a heaving stomach, muscles working hard under the flesh as he thrust into you, your body unable to move with him thanks to the arm of the couch keeping you in place.

It ensured he always hit the deepest part of you since your body couldn’t shift away, one of your hands on your stomach while the other took his own and placed it on your chest. He began to knead you over your bra, it soon out of the way as he yanked it down and wrapped his mouth around a nipple, his motions speeding up a bit as you tangled your now free hand into his hair. ‘You feel so good,’ you couldn’t stop yourself from saying then, starting to get overstimulated, and at your words he jerked a little erratically, like it’d made him stumble. ‘You- you were so handsome tonight, did so well, I couldn’t stop staring at you…’

He was moaning nonsense into your chest as you praised him, something about what you were saying making him fall apart; his head rested against you as he rutted into you with wild abandon, your hands just holding him there as you kept whispering what he wanted to hear. You meant it, every word, but to know that this much was making him practically whine against you was also addicting, needing him to know everything you felt for him, how proud you were of him, how you’d never be able to feel anyone but him for the rest of your life.

‘Come inside me, make me yours, I want to be yours,’ you pleaded, Jack grasping at you like a drowning man grasps at his saviour, a few more thrusts making your head fall back before he did just that. His hips jutted a few more times as warmth filled your insides, the sensation mixed with his broken gasps bringing you over the edge as well, his nails digging into your flesh where he held you, your hands thoroughly messing up his perfectly styled hair. When he was done he collapsed against you, his weight once again so incredibly nice as he pinned you against the cushions, the leather sticking to your skin and keeping you very much in place.

‘If I’m too heavy-’ he started to say before he shifted and cut himself off with a whine, his attempts to get up thwarted immediately.

‘You’re not,’ you reassured him, your fingers attempting to straighten his hair back into place, a small courtesy for him letting you grab him so hard in the first place. ‘We can just… stay a while.’

‘Do you wanna risk that? I might fall asleep on you like this,’ he asked like it’d be a bad thing; what a gentleman.

‘I think that’d be worth the risk,’ you told him as you kissed his forehead, Jack reaching up to cup your cheek before gathering all his strength to kiss you goodnight.

[pluckyredhead]

Can you please say more about the Lanterns' politics?

I am so glad you asked me about this because I've been thinking about it since I reblogged that post but also I'm definitely about to get yelled at lol. ANYWAY THIS IS GOING TO BE LONG.

Tl;dr: John is the only one with a coherent political position or an up-to-date voter registration.

Hal:

So something interesting about Hal is that his stories are often very political but his character is not. With one extremely obvious exception, he rarely talks about politics; rather, he serves as a means through which to tell political stories, usually unintentionally.

What do I mean by that? Well, for example, in the Silver Age, his love interest would occasionally be possessed by a misandrist space jewel that would force her to attack him, but always lose because women are inherently inferior to men and prefer to be subjugated by them anyway. That's the original Star Sapphire concept. It's wildly misogynistic, but it doesn't mean Hal the character is misogynistic. But it's also a very political story, even if I don't think the writer was deliberately trying to make a point so much as...being an average, thoughtlessly sexist guy living in the 60s. (Carol continues to be the subject of mindbogglingly sexist writing and art well into the 2000s. Fucking comics.)

And so you have Hal Jordan, whose love life was ruined by his girlfriend getting promoted above him and who called his best friend by a racist nickname for decades; Hal Jordan, poster boy for chest-thumping post-9/11 kneejerk patriotism; Hal Jordan, lightning rod for a certain kind of regressive bigoted fanboyism. Choosing Hal as the Lantern for a particular story over John or Kyle has come to signify something very specific, but none of that is necessarily reflective of what Hal himself believes.

So what about Hal himself? Well, when we first meet him, he's the epitome of privilege: a white, straight, cis, Christian (I know he's canonically half-Jewish now but that's only as of the past decade or so), ablebodied, upper middle class (Geoff Johns retconned him to have a working class background, but in the Silver Age, he had one uncle who was a millionaire, another who was a judge, and a successful politician brother) man with a flashy job. Privilege tends to lean Republican; even if he is from California, I suspect Hal voted for Eisenhower in 1956.

In GL/GA, the word "Republican" isn't used to my recollection, but Hal is definitely presented as...I'm going to say conservative by I mean lower-case C. He doesn't have deeply held political beliefs, but he's traditional. He doesn't question the system, because he's never had to. He resists things that challenge the way he's always understood the world works, and that's very relatable - most people do! And he will absolutely argue with Ollie, who certainly isn't always right about everything. But he's also willing to listen, and have his mind changed, and certainly reachable via appeals to compassion and fairness.

Once the "relevance" trend of the late 60s-early 70s was over, Hal's stories default back to ostensibly politically neutral, although obviously nothing is actually politically neutral. In the late 80s and early 90s he's the most unpleasant version of himself, and that has political manifestations, like when he allows John to be imprisoned in apartheid South Africa for a ridiculous and unnecessary crime Hal himself committed. It's extremely fucked up, but again, it's less because of Hal's actual opinions and more because Christopher Priest wanted to write about apartheid, even if it does make Hal look incredibly, horrifically racist.

Then jump to the mid-2000s and Green Lantern: Rebirth, and you might imagine that losing his hometown, getting possessed by a giant space bug, becoming a supervillain, dying, and becoming the embodiment of God's vengeance might have some effect on Hal's politics, but that is not what Geoff Johns is here to write. Johns is writing a Hal who teleported in from, like, 1967 - no nuance allowed. He's a summer blockbuster that walks like a man. He's a Baja Blast. He's never had a coherent political thought in his life. In his defense, he has had more and goofier concussions than any superhero I can think of and his brain is smooth like an egg. Still.

Anyway, all of this is to say that I think Hal tends to default to center right positions but can be easily coaxed over to center left. That said, he has never not once in his life had his shit together enough to vote in a single election, not even for his own brother.

Guy:

So Guy's deal is a little bit complicated because his most vocally political era was also in part due to severe and personality-altering brain damage.

When Guy was originally introduced in the 1960s, he had the pleasantly bland personality of all superheroes. Many years later, he suffered a series of major injuries, torture, and a lengthy coma, and he emerged from the coma in 1985 with the aggressive, abrasive personality he's best known for today. Justice League International took that even further, using him to parody the jingoistic, red-blooded American action hero of the 80s.

This version of Guy is a vocal fan of Ronald Reagan and despises the USSR. He's pro-war, proudly xenophobic, and treats women badly enough that it crosses the line into repeated sexual harassment, both physical and verbal. (To be fair...ish, this last also applies to Wally West and arguably a number of other men, and was always played for laughs. It was gross all around.)

Again, this is partially a manifestation of his brain damage. There's also a running gag in JLI where if he gets hit on the head, his personality changes to this cloying, timid, gentle one, sort of halfway between a child and a flamboyant gay stereotype. Hit him again and he goes back to Asshole Guy. I'm not going to pretend I don't find some of the gags funny, but it's obviously all highly problematic, and not just from a medical standpoint.

That said, I don't think we can dismiss Guy's politics or his usual personality as simply a manifestation of brain damage. We see in later flashbacks that he developed the abrasiveness as a defense mechanism from growing up in an abusive home, and as he matures through the 90s, he doesn't actually become a significantly different person, even after his Vuldarian healing factor kicks in and heals his brain. (It's a thing.) I think it's more accurate to say that the brain damage probably affected his impulse control, his filter, and arguably even his paranoia levels.

All of which is to say that as much as I would love to go "Guy's better now, so he's not a Republican!"...that dog won't hunt. I think a really good canon writer could make the case that Guy is pro-union-style working class and also a former teacher so he's at least center left, but as of now canon evidence is pretty firmly on the red side. It doesn't help that the GLC has been written as fetishistically pro-cop and pro-military since Johns got his grubby hands all over it. I will happily ignore the New 52 retcon that Guy was a cop, and you could even try to argue that he dislikes cops because his brother was a corrupt cop who became a supervillain, but I think it's much more likely that he identifies with cops as a Corps member. Although I don't think he would have any patience for killer cops. ("You were afraid for your life even though you were the only one with a weapon? Then fucking quit, coward.")

All of that said, I think Guy is similar to Hal: defaults to center right, can be talked into center left on certain issues but he's more stubborn about it. (They would also both be enraged by Jan 6 and disgusted by the current Republican party - I can't quite argue that Guy Gardner is a Democrat but Green Lanterns don't have any patience for traitors or cowards.) It's also kind of a moot point because he never knows what is happening on Earth and hasn't voted since his pre-coma days.

John:

Oh John Stewart, thank god for you.

John was introduced as an explicitly political character in an explicitly political story. The first time we see him, he's stepping in to defend Black men from a white cop, citing his own knowledge of the law to do so. He shows a much more perceptive and informed perspective on the issue's main plot (a racist senator running for president) than Hal does. Even in the little moment above, we see that he's sensitive to exactly what it means for him, a Black man, to be taking on this role.

None of this is a surprise, since we'll later learn that John's parents were civil rights activists. Not only would he not have had the privilege Hal and Guy did to assume his existence was politically neutral, he was explicitly educated about political realities and progressive advocacy from childhood. He's well-informed, he's passionate, and he's going to tell you when you are being fucking stupid.

John isn't immune from the GL cop/military...thing, although I can't blame Johns for that - it was the cartoon that made him a Marine, and the comics followed suit. But that's never outweighed his origin or his upbringing. Like, he's friends with the DCU's fictional version of Nelson Mandela.

This one is straightforward: John is a staunch progressive. He is, however, in outer space 90% of the time, so he's always at least a little bit out of date. I imagine every time he comes back to Earth he spends the first 24 hours watching the news in abject horror.

Kyle:

Kyle doesn't talk about politics a lot, but when he does, he lands pretty much where you'd expect a young California-born artist living in New York City to land: to the left. My read on Kyle is that he hasn't really thought any of his politics through, which makes sense - he's a character who is led by emotion over reason every time. He doesn't have John's carefully thought-through arguments or knowledge of the law behind him. I feel like when something political upsets him, he's more likely to splutter angrily than make a coherent argument (which: same). When he's given the time to think things through and speak from the heart, though, he can be very eloquent, like in his speech to Terry after Terry accidentally comes out to him.

It's also worth pointing out that his solo appearances were mostly in the 90s, which were prone to avoiding politics or only addressing them in a halfhearted both sides-y way like the story above.

That said, I don't think he ever actually does anything about his political opinions. He never votes in midterm or primary elections, and probably only voted in a presidential one because Alex dragged him along one time. I feel like Donna tried to do the same when they were dating and that was when Kyle realized he'd forgotten to change his voter registration from California to New York. Jennie wasn't responsible enough to Mom him into doing his civic duty, and he's been in space pretty much nonstop ever since, so...

Simon:

In that other post, I said Simon's experiences should have radicalized him, but instead he was created by Geoff Johns. Simon is a Muslim, Lebanese-American man who came of age in the post-9/11 era, and was wrongfully convicted of terrorism and waterboarded at Guantanamo Bay. His reaction to this was...to put on a ski mask and wave a gun around. Like, it's been a while since I've read these issues, but aside from the "ripped from the headlines!!!" of it all, I feel like Simon's experiences largely don't inform his actions or perspective except that he's super angry (fair enough).

The thing about Simon (and Jessica) is that he hasn't been around very long, and most comics don't have characters directly expressing political opinions. It's not a coincidence that these characters are in chronological order and each write-up is shorter than the last. I can think of about three times where Kyle has ever said anything I can interpret as political, and he's been around for 30 years. Simon only has a third of that history. So while one could certainly extrapolate what Simon's opinions are likely to be, I can't think of any canon where he actually says them.

Jessica:

Jessica has even less to go on in terms of explicitly political comics. You'd think she wouldn't like guns because of what happened to her friends, but she has one of her own and doesn't seem bothered by Simon's. I'd imagine she has opinions on immigration as someone whose family is from Mexico and Honduras, but it never comes up. If I were writing for DC, I'd make both Simon and Jess leftists, but as for actual canon proof? I got nothing.

I will say that she probably avoids political discussions because anxiety, and I bet she got really good at voting by mail during her years not leaving the house. She probably votes by mail from space. Maybe John's not the only one with an up-to-date voter registration.

Kilowog:

[hugshughes]

Patience is a Virtue C. Loveland

Colston Loveland x fem!Minter!reader

synopsis - Colston gets the trophy, and finally gets the girl.

wc - 3.8k

contains - UNEDITED! this is based off of this request! READER IS COACH MINTER(michigan defensive coordinator)'S DAUGHTER!!!!!!! kissing, hugging, fluff, cursing, stress over the game. guys if u don't like my cute outfit i picked then #1 ur a hater and #2 it's not a big deal! think of something else🤞🤞🤞 cause my Adidas navy handballs with gold accents ARE STAYING. there IS a picture of the outfit im describing but im obvi not gonna stick it in the middle of the fic so if anyone wants that i guess request or message me lols?

an - GUYS PLEASE LET THIS POST LETS PRAY TOGETHER. THIS WAS CUTE. i've been getting the BEST requests lately. i'm on my Michigan FOOTBALL grind. ive spent a long while introducing the jesse minter daughter reader.... she might have to stick around. i want to write for Blake Corum but don't know what to do because literally all i have written for the past week is like "girlfriend or friend of player reader comes to watch their playoff game, reader and love interest kiss after love interest wins game" so... DONT GET ME WRONG I LOVEEEE WRITING THAT SHIT. but it feels so repetitive. BUT THIS? I LOVED THIS. daughter of the coach is so scandalous and i love it. minter is only 40 so like we're just saying he had his daughter (reader) pretty young, like 21. hope u enjoyyyyyyyy ;)!

-

You woke up with a start. Your body jolted as you brain registered a shout somewhere in the room. You sucked in a breath, opening your eyes, only to close them again. You squinted, trying to orient yourself. You were in a hotel room, your brothers were the ones shouting.

You groaned at the realization, then let out a shout when you felt three small bodies land on top of you.

"Holy shit, get off of me!"

They immediately scrambled, most likely going to tell your mom you cursed in their presence. You loved your 3 baby siblings, but they were pains in your ass sometimes.

You heard a faint "she said shit mommy!" in the conjoining hotel room, and rolled your eyes. You sat in bed, stretching, grabbing your phone before grabbing your bag and locking yourself in the bathroom before your mom could scold you so your siblings shut up about it.

Today was the college football playoff championship, and it was safe to say your family members above the age of 8 were stressed. It was 8:11, and you had to be out the door by 9:50. You showered, drying your hair after and then starting to pick your outfit. You brought a lot of different gear, you had not clue what you wanted to wear to the game. You had so much Michigan gear, and even more maize and navy colored clothing, courtesy to your father.

After almost 30 minutes, you decided on a cute denim skirt, a maize long sleeve, and your navy Adidaas Handballs. You perfected your hair and makeup, successfully erasing any signs that you'd only been awake for about an hour.

You came out of the bathroom all put together, your bag and pajamas in hand. Your siblings were sitting on your bed, watching something on the TV. Since you guys had 6 people in your family, you'd gotten two hotel rooms with the connecting door in the middle. You slept in one room with your little sister on the other bed, and your parents and brothers slept in the other room. You walked through the connecting door, checking the time. 9:17.

Your mom was getting ready in the bathroom when you walked into it. You sat on the closed lid toilet and started talking to her about the plans for today.

"You really gotta stop cursing in front of the littles!"

Your mother scolded you, a grin wide on her face. She was joking, of course. You and your parents had always been close, you'd been their baby for the longest. You'd been with them since they were two just married 20 year olds in college. Not that you remembered it, but you were there for all of your dad's junior and senior year games when he played at MSJ. You'd been there through all the coaching jobs. From Cincinnati, to Georgia State, to the Baltimore Ravens, you'd been there through all of it.

You sat with your mom until it was time to go. Your dad corralled everyone together, taking a photo before you all headed to the elevator. When an elevator came, it opened up and there was barely any room unless your parents held two of your siblings, so you told them to go ahead and that you would wait for the next one.

You only waited about a minute before the doors slid open again, revealing none other than Colston Loveland. His eyes lit up, a grin shining on his beautiful face. You'd always had a weird little thing with Colston. No words were ever said about it, but there had always been a vibe between you.

Being the daughter of the defensive coordinator definitely drove a lot of the guys, even ones you had classes and other school related things with, far far away. The boys knew how protective their coach was of his family, and didn't want any bad blood on the team. Something about you just attracted Colston so heavily. He knew he shouldn't even think about it, but he never could help himself.

"Hey coach."

You rolled your eyes at him playfully as you stepped into the elevator. He always called you coach, he had to remind you he was one of your dad's players. You would've loved to forget that for two seconds.

"Hi Cole."

He could've died. You'd called him Cole, instead of Colston. It was the smallest, most insignificant little thing, but it made him melt.

"Where's your family at?"

You tilted your head towards him, he wanted to talk, okay. You smiled at him, he loved it.

"The other elevator was too full, some of the guys were on the way down too."

He nodded, the smirk never leaving his face. You thought about kissing it off of him, then realized you had just thought of kissing his smirk off of him. Shit. You were in deep with this kid, and there was little to no chance anything would ever happen.

The elevator reached the lobby, and Colston gestured for you to step out first. You exited the elevator, the boy hot on your tail. You were immediately greeted by a hallway packed full of Michigan players, coaches, families, and more.

You have Colston one last glance and smile before finding your mom, taking your baby brother out of her arms and into yours, playing with him. Colston's eyes followed you, he admired you as you smiled and laughed with your brother. You were perfect. He was gonna have to find a way to get around the fact that you were his coach's daughter.

You held your brother with one arm and your sisters hand with the other as you smiled at the cameras, walking through to the buses. Your family followed behind the rest of the coaches and families, the team trailing behind you.

The ride to NRG took longer than you assumed it would, almost an hour because of the traffic, and it didn't help that everyone could tell that the buses were transporting one of the CFP Championship teams in them.

Everyone went into the stadium together, through some backstage type area. You walked with the team until you had to go separate ways. You hugged your dad, squeezing him tight. You would see him again before the game, so you saved your 'Good luck, I love you Dad.' sentiment for then.

You'd always had a special connection with your dad, you were closer to him than almost anyone else. You were his baby, his first baby. Still, you were his baby in his eyes. Your dad would do anything for you, and he was quite protective. Though he was protective, all he wanted was for you to be happy, and if it meant dating one of his guys, he would have no problem with it.

Your family sat bored in the box of the stadium, looking down on the field as Washington practiced. There was over 6 more hours till the game started, and there was practically nothing to do.

You took a nap on the carpeted floor of the box with your siblings for a couple hours, your mother snapping photos that although you were embarrassed of, were undeniably cute. Once you guys had woken up, there was about 2 hours till game time. You voted with your family on whether you guys wanted to stay in the box, or sit way close to the field. You all wanted to be closer to the field, you wanted to see the action head on.

Your family departed the box, along with a few others to see the team one more time before the game. You got down onto the field in about 20 minutes, and stood with your dad for awhile. When you were being told it was time to go, you quickly hugged your dad.

"Good luck, I love you!"

He thanked you, saying the three words back as you guys waved at him, going to leave. Your eyes caught on a certain brunette as he ran off the field, his eyes finding you quickly. He smiled at you, ugh, that smile.

"Good luck, Cole!"

You smiled at him, right before you turned to go up the tunnel. More and more fans started to pour in as you got settled into your bleacher seats. You were three rows from the bottom with a perfect view of the field. You settled in as the national anthem ended and the game began.

As the game progressed, you were so happy to say that Michigan was winning, the entire time. You'd caught Colston's eyes multiple times during the game, letting it linger for a few seconds before giving him a stern look and gesturing towards the field. He'd mouth back, 'okay, coach.' and turn back around. Your mother caught the interaction once, her heart warming seeing her baby with a crush.

You stood up, your brother in your arms as you jumped up and down, shouting, Michigan had finally won! You cheered and danced around with your little siblings as you celebrated. You were all so insanely proud of your dad. Soon though, you were being escorted to the field, eager to see your father and congratulate him.

Blood was pumping and hearts were racing as you exited the tunnel, smiles burned onto your faces as you went to look for your dad. You held your sister's hand as you two ran around, trying to find him. Your mom shouted, and you turned to look at her. She pointed to your left, and there stood your dad, hugging one of his players. Your sister went back to your mom, to walk over to your dad with her as you all but sprinted over to your dad, weaving in between sweaty boys and families.

Your dad saw you incoming and held his arms out accepting your forceful hug. You both laughed, your dad squeezing you tightly. Your best friend had finally done it.

"Literally told you you would do it."

He laughed again, agreeing as he laid a kiss to your temple, pulling back with one arm to accept your other siblings into the hug, who'd finally made their way over. After a minute, you took your siblings from your dad so your mom could hug him, and kiss him, much to your brothers' disgust.

After talking with your dad for a little, you spotted a familiar 6'5 frame standing by himself as his teammates walked away from him. You sauntered over, shouting his name when you were in earshot. The brunette quickly turned around, the smile already gracing his face deepening.

"Well hi, coach."

"Congratulations, Cole. You know your catches were pretty legit."

You gave him a slightly impressed face, shrugging your shoulders. He laughed, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You can't win 'em all over, can you?"

You laughed in turn, stepping closer to him. Colston's heart was racing as he looked down into your eyes.

"But really, Cole, you were incredible, serious."

He nodded, accepting your praise with a grin, before he looked around, over-exaggerating a look of being in thought.

"You know, coach, I think I might just deserve a reward, for my quote incredible performance."

Your eyes widened, your heart starting off, faster and faster.

"Really? What might that entail, Cole?"

Shit, he was gonna have to kiss you if you kept calling him that. He was about to take the leap. He knew he had to at some point, and he was on an adrenaline rush, that just chanted at him to do it.

"Well I think it entails you accepting a date with me back in Michigan."

Your jaw dropped slightly, you were dumbfounded. Colston really wanted to go on a date with you?

"For real?"

Colston nodded, seemingly confident, though he was shaking in his boots on the inside.

"Well then, I think we can make that work."

Colston's heart erupted. He literally could not have been happier. He'd just won the Natty, and got his dream girl to agree to a date, holy fuck. You got nervous all of the sudden, leaning up to kiss his cheek, before turning to leave.

"Just text me, Cole!"

He nodded, his eyes following you as you went to go find your family again. His family came back over to him, they'd been gone for just a second but stopped and waited when they saw him talking to you. His family, especially his mom, knew quite a bit about you.

You found your family, immediately grabbing your moms hand to pull her a few steps away. You looked at her with the biggest eyes ever, still in shock over what had just happened.

"What's up, sweetheart? Why are you all, thousand yard stare-y?"

"Mom Colston just asked me out, and I said yes! And then I kissed his cheek! And then I left!"

Your mom laughed, her baby was finally growing up. You'd had a few boyfriends in all your days, but you'd never been proper crushing like you were right now.

"That's so good! I knew this was coming, we just had to wait for one of you to get the courage."

You blushed, hiding your face in your hands. Your smile suddenly dropped, a realization coming to you.

"Is dad gonna hate me?"

"Why would I hate you?"

Shit.

You ended up telling your dad later on in the night, when you were tired and sitting in the back of a restaurant the team was celebrating in. Your family didn't party for too long, having a 4, 7, and 8 year old didn't exactly allow you guys to stay out for too long. Even your parents 19 year old daughter got a bit cranky if she stayed out too late.

When you told your dad, he just laughed. He knew you and Colston had things for each other, he was waiting for the tight end to make a move.

-

You were stressing. Tonight was your date with Colston. You sat at your vanity, ranting to your roommate over it. You put on makeup and did your hair, wanting to look cute but not over the top.

Colston had told you to wear comfy clothes, so you were in one of your most common outfits. Leggings and a Michigan sweatshirt. You stared at yourself in the mirror, doubting yourself. You had known Colston for over a year, almost two, but you didn't really know him that well. You wanted him to like you so badly.

"Babe, you look fantastic. He's going to stare at you all night."

You sighed at your roommate's encouragement. But before you could respond, you got a text from Colston. He was outside your dorm building. Your roommate pushed you straight out the door, saying bye.

You went down the stairs quickly, making your way out of the complex. You saw Colston as you opened the door, slipping out. He looked up and smiled at you, his stupid beautiful smile.

"Hey, Gorgeous."

You felt the heat on your face even in the Ann Arbor cold. You smiled, shaking your head as you gave him a spin, showing off your extra casual outfit.

"Even in this ensemble?"

He nodded, his smile deepening. He pulled you into his side, hugging you. You were immediately enveloped in his warmth. You ducked your head down to hide the shock in your eyes. He smelled really good.

When you pulled away Colston led you to his car, opening the door for you before going around and getting in. You two buckled up before Colston pulled out of the parking spot, setting off into Ann Arbor. He gave you the aux, warming your heart. You both knew he probably didn't listen to the same music as you, but he wanted you to listen to whatever you liked.

Smaller Acts by Zach Bryan came on when you hit shuffle on your main playlist, making you smile. You resonated with the song, always having thought that smaller acts of love were more important than any grand gestures. You got to really look at Colston while he drove. He kept his eyes right on the road always, until you got to a red light, that's when you'd jerk your head back forward as he turned to look at you. He was really pretty, his jaw was so insanely defined, he had a strong neck, and the deepest brown eyes. You stared at the tattoo on his left forearm, he was hot, to put it simply.

You drove for around 40 minutes before the car slowed, pulling onto a gravel driveway. You looked out of your window, seeing a large screen and projector, and lots of cars. He had brought you to a drive in movie. You could've cried when you saw the sign reading the movie you would be seeing. Ocean's 11. The very first time you ever talked to Colston, he'd asked you your favorite movie. You said you couldn't pick one, then settled on Ocean's 11 because it was one you'd seen so many times you could quote any scene.

You couldn't believe he remembered. You'd never mentioned it since then. That was the kind of smaller, seemingly insignificant thing that meant the world to you. You jerked your head to the left, staring at Colston with wide eyes. He was dealing with the tickets for a few seconds before you pulled into a spot, then he finally looked to you.

"Cole, I cannot believe that you remembered."

Colston smiled, and on the inside he was celebrating that you loved it. What he hadn't expected though was you leaning over the console and hugging him. It was honestly the sweetest thing any guy had ever done for you, you were beyond grateful for this boy, and it was your first date.

"This is the sweetest thing a guy's ever done for me, I'm being serious."

Though you were mostly saying that about the fact that he'd remembered, the date itself was also amazing. Colston knew you enough to know that you'd have preferred this over any fancy restaurant, and that meant a lot.

"It's the least I could do, coach. You mean something to me, 'm gonna take care of you."

You just squirmed in your seat, getting more comfortable and smiling as you looked ahead of you. You wordlessly reached over and slipped your hand into his, pulling them into your lap.

Colston was so happy he could've gotten out of the car and started dancing. He acted as cool as he could on the outside. You two settled in as the movie began.

At some point, Colston had reached back into the backseat and grabbed a blanket that he tossed into your lap, and a bag of food and snacks.

You traced your free hand over Colston's tattoo, admiring the line work and shading. The movie ended, and Colston's hand stayed with you as you two began the drive back. You fell asleep on the drive, your head leaning against Colston's arm.

You woke up slowly about 5 minutes out from school. You kept your head on Colston's arm, but allowed yourself to carelessly stare at him in your tired state. At a stoplight, he turned to look at you, smiling deeply when his eyes met your sleepy ones.

"Hey, coach. Nap good?"

You smiled and nodded, yawning at him. He laughed lowly, turning his head back when the light went green. You parked outside your building, dampening your heart. The night had been perfect. You sleepily got out of Colston's car, after he told you to not dare opening your own door. He walked you up to the entrance with his hand on your back, rubbing his fingers back and forth lightly.

When you got to the door you stopped and turned around, wrapping your arms around his middle.

"Thank you so much Colston. This was like, the best date I think ever."

He smiled, hugging you tightly. Colston had the best time, obviously you were gorgeous, but getting to talk to you one-on-one without interruptions was his idea of a good time. His insides melted whenever you fell asleep, and before then, he could've swore he was in love while you traced over his tattoo.

You pulled away from him, looking at the boy through heavy eyes. He looked absolutely handsome in the dim lighting of a street lamp. You put your hands on his shoulders, leaning up and kissing him. You probably wouldn't have if your drowzy mind hadn't commanded you to. Obviously you wanted to, but you weren't sure if it was 100% mutual yet, but it was.

Colston's hands went to hold the back of your head, his hands in your hair. He kept the kiss shorter than you would've liked, knowing you were tired.

You looked up at him with stars in your eyes, a smiling fighting its way onto you face. Colston's hands shifted from your hair to your jaw, rubbing his thumb over your cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow baby."

Your blown out eyes widened at the name, your heart clenching in your chest. Colston saw the reaction, his lips quirking up the slightest bit.

"I'll see you, Loveland."

You let go of him, turning towards the door. You paused for a second, quickly turning back around and kissing Colston again. Colston's hands grabbed at your hips, pulling you closer. Colston smiled brightly into the kiss, giggling to himself.

You pulled away from him, a grin falling to your face.

"You ever gonna let me leave, coach?"

"Thinkin' about it."

"You get inside, gorgeous. It's too cold for you to be out here."

You smiled, nodding at him, letting go of him for the last time.

"You gotta go too, off season just started. You gotta stay on your A-Game Loveland."

He laughed at you, shaking his head as he watched you walk into the dorm complex, turning the corner and out of his sight. You ran back up the stairs and to your room, squealing like a 13 year old as you described your date to your roommate.

Colston sat in his car, texting his mom that everything went well. When he put his phone away, he finally let himself think that you were the girl he'd want to be with forever. It was finally real. The boy just had to be patient.

[yuseirra]

It's kind of.. really cruel of the author to never include Kamiki in any of the colored drawings. They never developed him well enough while having him destroyed, he DID swallow up so many of the remaining chapters due to Aqua basically devoting his life and giving up on everything he built up in the entire story to killing him, but it's not like we actually know so much of this guy either. I've studied him A LOT but from your average reader's perspective he's like someone just little more than some rando, Ai's ex who's a psychopath showing up and the protag just dying with him. The thing is!! That "psychopath" laid out all the reasons why Aqua's life is precious and worth living and suggested he go back to live. This is what gets me so much. So was this the only way?? I'm coming up with my own analogies to make it have a sense- but it's the work that has to make things convincing. The readers should not do this work. The work should provide proper answers.

Ofc he could be horrible(I'm not convinced btw)but wow, even the Himekawas have Taiki visiting their grave in the final chapter with flowers when what they did is horrifying. THE WOMAN MOLESTED A LITTLE KID. STARTING FROM AGE 10-11. I really can't forgive how they just..; How can they be so irresponsible on handling such a subject? They just make a couple statements.. oh by the way I'm GLAD Taiki never had a confrontation with Kamiki. I saw how his characters of his name was written and do you know?? His name comes from how Kamiki's characters are written in kanji and I found that super cruel and creepy of Airi. That woman is a character but she's insane. I never felt Kamiki would have to confront the boy one bit. No, they never have to interact at all. What happened regarding them's still horrifying. I just saw a new drawing of the hoshino family but like, he's always nonexistent. Maybe he doesn't deserve it, but he's completely excluded in that whole family dynamic when it is stated that Ai wanted to raise her kids with him. I feel really bitter because what's the point?? of all this??

I had a chat with my friend who isn't really into the series much, and she had an interesting idea.

she says since the story is SO incomplete, and the author announced they're going to write a new series- she thinks that they may be trying to create a narrative where multiple narratives can somehow converge into a part of a huge universe or something. They'll explain all the weird things through it. Wasn't Kaguya-sama and Onk set in the same world? She says. There may be some beings that are chosen by the gods or hold some specialties in them but it's never really been explained how they've come to be or what conditions they get chosen, maybe they're going to continue writing several stories and explain it through another. "They never showed the dad being really dead, didn't they? We basically know so little about him? He might come back in another story." (I went, "BUT JUST WHAT WOULD HE DO?? AI'S STILL DEAD.." oh but in that case, he might actually look ENTIRELY different because he's an actor huh. and since there's "Misogi", he might be really purified by the saltwater. He might return to being a benevolent god now. Again, what was Aqua's life then but actually;; maybe Kamiki IS still alive. We really didn't see his body or know what the heck actually happened to him.)

I have no idea... but so much is just left unexplained.., so maybe she has a point. This work is simply incomplete. We really don't know what's been happening behind the scenes or why the twins were reincarnated, what were their missions and all, everything's left on a vague note. I do feel like they're going to have Ruby appear as a cameo in the author's next work as a famous idol on TV or something like that. Perhaps this piece may be a "stepping stone" for another story to develop on the same thing. While I was sitting there, listening to her theories of it, I couldn't help but feel really annoyed at the author. Even if they have some bigger picture or whatnot(if they somehow deem this piece a complete piece of work, that's even more concerning because anyone can tell it's extremely hollow and sloppy) this isn't respectful toward their readers who came in looking for a resolution.

I did manage to come up with an explanation for this piece that I'm pretty sure of, but they didn't do the work they were supposed to do. If they want to make some other piece of work and develop that first, then it's better to leave one on hiatus and create pieces that are "complete". Stories are a product, we don't come here to look at single puzzle pieces, we want the whole picture. The time, energy, and passion spent on reading a piece shouldn't feel like a waste. If the piece can't explain what's going on on its own, it's cannot be defined as a standalone. On that regard, onk isn't a standalone because nobody can figure out what's been going on about the ending of the piece by just seeing what the series has to offer, we have to make guesses that aren't properly laid out. It's like you order a pizza and you only got the dough. No matter how great the dough is, you'd STILL want a pizza because that's what you're there for. That's what the authors did for this piece, regarding the plot, and for all the characters of the series, the only character I think somewhat survived is Ai because her story had some sort of a wrap-up. She's the only one that feels complete in a sense, so this series..in the end, heavily relied on this one character who died in the first volume. She was really iconic.

Hopefully I don't have much more to be disappointed about-

oh, about Ruby in the last chapter. They had to let her speak for herself, she doesn't feel alive. Ruby can express the feelings she has. She has a mouth for herself. Why are they letting Akane speak on her behalf when she's not even the one that has a strong bond with her? Even if she is, wasn't Ruby supposed to be some sort of double protagonist? Or an important character at least? Or it could have been the author's intent(I'm strongly sensing that this is what they were going for, they want us to be a bystander the way we watch idols on tv and look up to them without knowing how they are as a human being), in that case, this whole piece leaves such a bad taste. So NOTHING's improved from Ai's case, it even got worse, the only thing that separates Ai's situation and keeps Ruby's career being endangered is that Ruby doesn't have a boyfriend and she doesn't have twins to care for. So what's the message huh?? Don't make any of those or even if you end up doing it, lie!! Is that it?

This piece is so disrespectful then. That's unsettling.

Those pages used in the final chapter should have been entirely devoted to Ruby speaking for herself if they even care for her as someone who has a heart of a person...but I don't think it's the message they want to show, the authors must want to make a point about the nature of idols having to keep up sturdy personas and keep shining at all times, but THAT'S already been discussed FAR better with Ai's case. It's even a step turned backward, so Onk wasn't really about growth.. Ruby's lost HER character. Not every work has to be about growth but having this happen after 17 volumes of story that seemed to suggest otherwise is not just baffling, it's not consistent writing and I wouldn't be this harsh(I'm not even being harsh right here. I'm being so generous with everything I'm typing)if it were to be written out in depth.

Borrowing my friend's commentary on it: This work don't discuss any of the issues they are presenting as insightful as it should, they just toss things out there and acknowledge they exist... but the characters make a few comments about that particular topic, make awkward laughs and then brush it off after having made you thought it's going to be handled. I think... acknowledging things have some meaning to it, at least it lets you realize it exist (for example, I started paying more attention to child abuse after having seen Ai and Kamiki's stories) but if you're going to bring it up, don't you have to handle it well? It's not the worst but I'd say it's SO FAR from what it can be as well. That is, also what I've found pretty annoying about this work. So nothing has been covered as well as it could have been. The plot, the characters, the subject it handles, they're all left hanging there. This piece is incomplete. And if you hand in an incomplete product, it isn't even graded. It gets sent back and is required to be completed and polished again till it is, or your contract is terminated. That's the situation with this piece. I wonder what the anime team would do with the third season but the authors had to hand in a piece they could work with. They shouldn't do this to them. I'm not saying the piece is entirely bad, it's just not a finished product. And that's not fair to all the people who wished for one.

[allmcl]

hi!! do you also write for armin (separately)? ive been craving some armin content for a while and i found your account, your writing is so amazing, and i was wondering if you'd write something where candy and armin arent back together yet in UL and, after a night in the snake room with alexy, rosa, priya and the others, armin decides to fight for her love not knowing he doesn't need to fight for it since she's head over heels for him

STILL HERE │ Armin Keenan.

When a reunion with an old love reminds Armin of everything they experienced together, he decides that after so much time, it's now or never that he should get you back.

pairing('s). armin keenan x f!reader

genre. fluff, angsty.

content wanings. mentions of breakup, alcohol consuming, cursing, kissing, suggestive themes.

author's note. MISSED THIS BOY SO MUCH DURING UL, hope you like this!! (tysm for requesting, sorry it took so long!) AND BTW, i found like a lot of lastnames and i decided for this one (not sure if is the canon one ://)

I was sure that my return to the city would be harder. After all, I couldn't blame anyone for being angry with me. If one of my friends just left, without even saying goodbye, I wouldn't be happy either. But, luckily for me, they had a much better reaction than I expected.

At the moment, I only saw Rosa and Melody. Although perhaps I didn't know how to show it at the time, having seen them after so long squeezed my heart so much that I still feel my emotions on the surface.

To tell the truth, I'm scared. Although I used to seeing eachother very often in high school, whether to go out for a drink or just to walk around the city, this is not high school anymore. And it's now, when I'm getting ready to go out, that I feel like I'm getting ready in my old room to go shopping with the them. The phone vibrates, and brings me out of my melancholic thoughts.

I look at him out of the corner of my eye, the screen glows with a notification from Alex.

Alex…

I refrain from further worries and simply read it from the preview.

"[Y/NNN]??? we are waiting for youuuu"

"Years waiting to see you, and you still late🙄​"

I smiled wistfully. I know he says it jokingly, but the guilt is real. But that's not important now, because it's once and for all my time to fix that, and to get back on track with my life here. I type a quick, “on my way,” before pocketing my phone and heading out the door to my campus room. Although the phone rings again, I don't bother checking it and I hurry to arrive on time.

I look at the time on the screen: "11:48." I curse under my breath. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I'm lost, and that even though I've been wandering around on the same street for more than twenty minutes, I still can´t find the bar. On the other hand, who would think of inviting someone to a place and not sending the address?

When I start to stress again, I recognize a voice in the distance that I would recognize anywhere. It's Alex. I follow the sound, although I don't pay attention to what it says, none of it matters when I see it. His eyes light up and he falls silent immediately. As I expected, he almost hugged me to the ground. Rosa also briefly joined our hug, smiling as she watched us interact.

"Finally!" He screeches in my ear, and although it dazes me a little I laugh out loud. "I missed you like crazy…" He whispered to me, and I had to separate myself for a moment to not burst out crying in my place.

"I missed you, Alex.." I sighed, but he seemed to notice my mood, changing the subject slighlty.

"You´re back, all that matters." He jokes, and I smile. "I hope you're ready for the surprise then."

I raise an eyebrow. "Surprise?"

"Yes, I told you by text." He emphasized obviously, gesturing towards his phone.

Of course, the text I didn't read. I nod briefly, so he thinks I know what he's talking about. Their surprises honestly scare me. They can go from something exciting to something illegal, you never know what to expect from these two. I'm nervous yes, I assume the "surprise" is inside.

"It's not bad at all." Rosa calms me down, she seems to read my mind sometimes. "I promise you'll be happy"

Well, now I'm scared.

Alexy wastes no time in cutting off the conversation, and Rosa simply presses her hand on my back lovingly, urging me to enter the disco-bar, "Snake Room." This was definitely not there when I lived here. Well, most of the things I see now didn't used to be there. Upon entering I immediately notice the loud music, the smoke and the smell of alcohol, the lights blur my vision a little, and it is difficult for me to discern where Alex is.

Rosa guides me a little to the table near the bar, which seems to be one of the quietest places in the place. But that's when the colored lights hanging near the stage allow me to catch a glimpse of him.

"I thought it would be nice for you to see each other again." Alex says, trying to calm the tension in the air.

My breath stops for a few moments. I don't know how to feel, but my body responds on its own. I'm shaking a little, and at this point I don't know if it's the flashing lights or their presence that's making me dizzy. I can barely move to get close to greet him. He changed a lot. Of course his essence is still there, I can tell, but it's definitely different.

"Welcome back." His voice is also different, deeper I could say. It throws me off a little. Well, all of him does. I curse myself internally. I was convinced I was ready for this, but I see I'm not.

I smile at him reflexively, and sit down across from him. The silence feels quite loud now that I feel his gaze on me, even though I avoid making eye contact. Rosa clears her throat, and gestures indiscreetly at Alex. I would laugh, if it weren't for the fact that this whole situation has me totally overwhelmed. I look at him for a few seconds, but he was already looking at me. God, I don't know if I can handle this.

"I imagined you´d be happier…" He smiled with amusement, and I couldn't help but feel my heart skip a beat at his expression. He looks boyish, in a strange way. It's as if for a moment, his expression took me back to high school Armin.

"I'm surprised, that's all." I laugh nervously.

"Well, he came all the way here just to see you." Alexy clarifies, but Rosa waves him off with a glare.

I look at him with my eyes slightly open. "You´re not living here?" The question escapes me before I can think about it.

"Not quite." He clarifies, and takes a sip of beer. It's now that my throat feels a little dry, but I don't feel like drinking alcohol. I could end up doing things i´ll regret. "Although now that you're back, I'd think about it." He winks at me.

I looked to the side, and felt my cheeks burn a little. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

"I thought you were tougher." Rosa reproaches, tripping a little, but Alexy holds her steady. "Now you go to bed early and don't drink. You've become an old man." He grimaces, and a laugh escapes us.

"It's not that!" Alex complains. "I just wanted to greet [y/n] sober." He looks at me smiling, and I smile back. "I'll take care of the old drunk" Rosa exclaims a "hey!" and hits him lightly on the shoulder, but he doesn't flinch.

"Are you back on campus?" Armin asks me, and then I remember that he is, in fact, still here. He looks at me, waiting for my response but I freeze instantly. Every time he speaks I experience the same embarrassment.

"Well, I'll leave you, lovebirds." The idiot does it on purpose. But for the first time, I notice that I'm not the only one embarrassed, Armin's cheeks turn pink, and he sends a reproachful look to his twin, who smiles innocently. Some things never change, I see. "Take care of her." It sounds more like a threat than a request, to which the black-haired man rolls his eyes and nods.

I watch Alexy walk away in the opposite direction.

Silence falls between us, and it is until we see the two disappear after turning down the street that I understand that I am alone with him. I smile awkwardly at him before taking a couple steps back.

"I'll walk you back." I open my eyes a little, and look at him with surprise. He seems sure of his words, and looks at me expectantly with that smile of his that I still have to get used to. "I don't like the idea of ​​you walking alone,"

"As much of a gentleman as I remembered." I reply, a flirtatious smile escaping me and Armin simply smiles wider. "It's close, anyway"

"I insist." His expression is confident, and well, I don't mind his company either.

With a slight nod of my head, Armin understands that I agree, so we start walking towards the campus. The silence this time is not awkward, and although we don't talk about anything, it really feels like there are an infinite number of topics to touch on. Not very pleasant topics. After all, we can't ignore that we were together, and that the break-up wasn´t the most pacific thing either.

"I was also glad to see you again." I whisper, and even though my voice sounds quiet, he hears me. He always does.

"I figured you'd be mad." He confesses, and although I don't see his face I know he's looking at me.

Deep down, yes I am. But I'm not sure if that was enough of a reason to ruin the evening and Alex's surprise. It would have been nice to have mentally prepared myself so that I wouldn't have reacted like a schoolgirl to seeing him.

"Well, it's been a long time…" I clear my throat a little. "I have my reasons to be tho."

"Yeah, but I bet you forgot all of it with how good I look." He mocks, smiling widely.

I click my tongue. "You can't use your face to change the past."

"You're right, but I can use it to change things now." A lopsided smile appears on his features, and his comment takes me by surprise.

I tense up suddenly and simply look away. I hate that probably if he tried… "You're too cocky." I complain.

Deep down, I wonder if that would bother me. It's stupid. Armin didn't care that we broke up, I really wonder what his intentions are now. But, I can't deny that the memory is still alive in me. Everything about him remains in me as if he had never left, and it bothers me that I couldn't change that in this embarrassing amount of time we were apart.

"I just feel like I'm not the only one." Armin grumbles, shoving his hands into the pockets of his baggy pants. Now I also notice that his style is different. It doesn't seem like his brother intervenes as much in his clothes as before, that is, he maintains a bit of his own style more than anything. More calm and informal.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I grimace, crossing my arms before looking back at him.

"I say that because I notice the way you look at me." His words make me even more angry. Sometimes I feel like there is no one who can read me like he does. It was always like this, since we were young. One expression on my face was enough for Armin to decipher what was happening to me.

"I―no.." I stuttered and he noticed it, however, he didn't continue probing and I remained silent.

The walk to campus was getting shorter, and I wasn't sure I knew how to say goodbye. Everything was so strange. It's not that I want to see him, but knowing that he was going to leave made me feel like I couldn't just leave him like that. My heart is beating fast, I feel like even he can hear it.

And although it seems like things can't get any worse, several drops falling on my hair bring me out of my frantic thoughts. The chance of rain was quite low today, but of course it has to rain anyway.

"This weather is a bit nice." Armin points out, extending his palm to feel the raindrops on it, which slowly intensify.

"Nice? I'm soaking my clothes." I grumble, trying to cover myself a little.

"On one of these days we kissed for the first time" Armin smiles to himself, and simply lowers his gaze to look me in the eyes.

Shit. I didn't expect to have to think about this again. Less now that he´s here. Of course I remember it. I invited him to eat at the restaurant where we made that ridiculous double date that I actually still remember as one of my most precious moments.

On the way back home, rain started pouring and us, like idiots, hide nder a tree until it calmed down a bit. I wouldn´t forget something as special as that.

"You have no right Armin." I feel my eyes water at the memory, but I am relieved to know that because of the rain it is not very noticeable. "You can't say that now."

"It's not easy to pretend that I don't remember anything that happened." He frowns a little and stops in the middle of the street, forcing me to do the same.

"I'm not asking you to do it but…" I stop, feeling a sudden lump in my throat.

"And you can't pretend that the same thing doesn't happen to you."

And he is right. He always is when he talks about my feelings. He is correct, of course. Since I saw him, I knew that in fact, nothing of what I felt for him had managed to dissipate over the years. My heart still belongs to him.

"I lost you once, [y/n]. I can't let you go again…" His words hit me like a bucket of cold water. "When I knew you were coming back I―…"

I interrupted him. "Do you think it's easy for me?" I raised my tone of voice slightly, the fierce rain drowning out the noise a little. "Your lack of interest tired me out, Armin. You can't come back into my life like this and expect me to throw myself into your arms like it was nothing."

"I know I did things wrong, but I can still show you that I changed!" He raised his voice too. My heart was racing, and his blue eyes looking at me like I was the only thing in the world made me feel like a teenager again. "I'm not the same one who made mistakes. The only thing that remains of me is the love I have for you, [y/n], it's the only thing I couldn't change."

Tears are streaming down my face, and I don´t think it comes unnoticed by him anymore. He sheepishly tries to dry them, but the water keeps running down.

"Look at me," Armin approached me and forced me to look at him with a gentle movement of his hand. He pressed his fingers a little on my chin. "I love you." And now, in his bright eyes, in his warm hands and in his smile that I never thought I would see again, I see the truth.

Without being able to get the words out of my mouth, frustrated, angry, I let myself go and as if my hands knew their way, they wrapped themselves around his neck and pulled him closer to me. Our breaths merge and his arms end up around my waist. We are so close I memorize every feature of his face, every new thing my eyes notice.

"Are you going to kiss me or keep making me wait?" He murmured, and to silence him once and for all I kissed him.

I felt safe, at peace. Like I've been waiting for this forever. His lips fit perfectly on mine as always, his grip tightens and I need to hold on to him as I feel my legs shake a little. It's passionate, fierce. It's not like the way he kissed me before, so innocent and clumsy.

The butterflies that I thought were dead begin to flutter in my stomach again, and the only thing that separates me from jim is the lack of air. But even though we break the kiss, Armin doesn't let me go, he keeps me close to him and brings our foreheads together.

"This time I'll make you stay." He sighs, and kisses me again to seal his promise.

©allmcl !