#I still can't get my feelings about this side

[lymtw]

Movie Night

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

Friday night is unofficially movie night for you and Toji. You always go back and forth on what you should do and options are tossed out, like a nice dinner or trying food from someplace new or going to a view and sitting in the trunk of his car with blankets and some snacks. Most of the time, all of those options are thrown out the window and you just end up sitting in your bed or his bed and watching movies together. It doesn't matter what you do, it's always good, and the sleep overs make it even better.

A knock on your door signals Toji's arrival. Though you haven't had any caffeine since the coffee you treated yourself to earlier in the afternoon, you feel jittery. You grab the surprise you have for him and walk over to answer the door. As soon as you pull the door open, there he is, looking handsome as always, even when he's donning a simple t-shirt and some sweatpants. He gives you that smirk of his—the one that makes your chest feel all warm and fuzzy, and wakes up the butterflies in your stomach. He has a bag in his hand, filled with the snacks he promised to bring.

"Aren't you gonna say hi? Did you even miss me?" He teases, loving the way you gently nod as he speaks, like you're ready to prove that you did in fact miss him.

"Hi, Toji," you say, a smile spreading on your lips when you become overly aware of his focus on you. "I missed you. Come in." You move aside and let him into your cozy home, a place he's all too familiar with. He steps out of his slides and leaves them behind next to a pair of your shoes, his gaze never leaving you as he waits for you to lock the door after you shut it.

"What's that, doll?" Toji asks, when you approach him with full hands. There's a soft smile on your lips and your eyes shine like the stars that speckle the sky, as you extend the neatly folded pair of pajamas towards him. You have the most precious look on your face, as if you're showing him one of your most prized possessions—something you're proud of.

"You don't have to wear them if you don't want to. I still have the receipt. I just thought it would be nice to wear matching pj's."

You're not asking for much. Toji knows this. This is nothing—you're not asking him for anything. All he can think as he takes in the adorable look on your face, is that it would be an absolutely disgusting, heinous crime, to deny you of something so simple, something that would make you so damn happy. He can't bring himself to destroy you like that. In doing that, he would be chipping his own heart.

"What are you talking about? Let me see them," he says, laying his hands out for you to place the clothes on. You carefully place them in his hands and watch as he unfolds the articles. You don't know what he's thinking as he inspects the shirt, but the hum he lets out is nerve wracking. The shirt's design is minimalistic. It's a black t-shirt with three little stars on the left side of the chest and a small crescent moon on the back, a few inches beneath the collar, and then the bottoms are in the same plaid style as yours, just dark green instead of red.

"Is this why you asked for my clothing sizes a couple days ago?" He asks, pulling down his pants out of nowhere. You can't even try to hold back your laugh as you look away after getting a glimpse of his boxers, the sound just slips out. "What are you laughing at? Nothing you haven't seen before," he says, grinning amusedly at your giggles.

He unfolds the comfy pair of pants and slides them on. Immediately after, his shirt comes off, and it's as if he wants you to notice—to ogle him—because he takes his sweet time getting the new shirt on. He catches your eyes trailing down his torso, and then, he hears it, the flustered giggle that tumbles off your lips, the sweet sound he was waiting on. He smirks as he puts the new shirt on, and once again waits for your reaction. The shirt is a thicker material and fits perfectly, so do the pants. You're now matching, just like you wanted.

"How do I look?" Toji asks, doing a simple hands in his pockets pose.

"Handsome and comfy," you respond, warmth reaching your face as you take in the sight.

"Yeah? You think so?" He asks as he picks up his previous outfit and drops it on the arm of your couch. He hears your affirmative hum and catches your little nod as he steps towards you.

"Hey, where's my kiss?" He asks, a sly little smirk curling his lips. His hands rest on your lower back, gently pulling you closer. "I've been waiting hours and hours," he murmurs, green eyes absorbing the pretty smile that begins to form on your lips. "I want my reward."

You know that it won't be just a quick kiss with Toji, but still, you stand on your tippy toes and tilt your head upwards, waiting for Toji to meet you. He leans down, holding eye contact with you, as his lips come closer and closer. Once his nose is right next to yours and you feel his lips ghosting yours, he stops. He just loves the way you can't hide your fluster and how whenever you can't take it anymore, you resort to something you should have some sort of award for, by now—giggling.

"You're precious, ma," he says, his voice low. Dark eyes scan and re-memorize, for the nth time, every inch of your joyful expression, before finally he leans in the rest of the way, closing the distance between you and him.

His hands grip the back of your shirt as he feeds off your soft lips. Kiss after kiss, each one gentle and patient, demonstrating how much he truly longed for you. You feel butterflies in your stomach when you focus on the warmth of his body pressed against you and the way his lips chase yours for another kiss when you think he's finally going to pull away. His hands dip beneath your shirt to feel the bare, soft, and warm skin of your back. The simple touch is enough to spread goosebumps all over you.

The final kiss is long. Your lips lock, but Toji stops there, not going with the usual synchronized flow of the previous kisses, and when you don't expect it, he lets out deep hum and releases your lips with a more audible smack. He gives you a dumb grin in response to the stars that returned to your eyes.

"Do the thing, baby," he says, rubbing your back while he waits for you to snap out of your minor daze. He stays in the same slightly leaned position and waits for the softness of your lips to meet his skin. You press a kiss onto the smooth scar on the corner of his lips for an equal amount of time as the long kiss you shared before and smile softly when you pull away, your feet flat on the ground, again.

His hands come out of your shirt and he grins at how bashful you've become, despite the amount of times you've done this. You wouldn't immediately know what "do the thing" means, if you weren't so accustomed to doing it.

"Got your favorites," he says, nodding towards the bag he set down on your couch. "Did you keep up with your end of the deal?" He jokes, expecting a proud nod from you, because you've never let him down.

"Lemon-lime or Cool Blue Gatorade, right?" You ask, walking towards the kitchen.

"That's right, doll," he confirms, following behind you.

After the wine incident, he chooses to stay sober with you. It's not that he doesn't want to experience drinking with you and see you be more laid back and playful, it's the fact that he knows that that version of you is altered by alcohol. Sober you isn't that way, and while he loves every version of you, your natural way of being is his favorite.

He could spend hours flustering and teasing you, watching the way you coil in on yourself when he stares at you for too long. Feeling the way your body melts against his when he holds you is one of his favorite things. He likes being able to coax you into voicing your thoughts, wants, and needs. Maybe you're a little more honest about deeper matters when you're inebriated, but Toji is smart enough to know that it's practically involuntary. It's like your secrets are being spilled without your permission and while he's glad to know these things in the moment, he would rather hear them from you when you aren't drunk.

"I got you both. I didn't know which you liked more, so I just got both of them," you say, grabbing them off one of the shelves in your fridge. You turn and hand the cold drinks to Toji before going back to grab the one you got for yourself. You step back and shut the fridge door, smiling at him when he just stares at you.

"What?" You question.

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. Just silently observes you standing in your small kitchen, in comfy, baggy pajamas that match his own. You're shifting on your feet, under his gaze, waiting for a response, but the response that he has in mind is a little too much for the lightness of the night. Something about wanting to spend the rest of his life with you, something about coming home to you every day, something about putting a shiny rock on your finger. Something big, because his feelings for you are big.

"Nothing, ma," he says, tucking both juice bottles between his forearm and his side, so that he can rest his hand on the back of your neck as you walk back out to the living room. You grab the bag of snacks off the couch and head to your bedroom together.

You set the bag of snacks on the bed and sit down on your side. Toji has a designated side on your bed, which is, of course, the other side.

"Light on or off?" Toji asks, shutting the door.

"Off?" You say, with a questioning tone, leaving room for him to object. Shortly after, the room goes dark. Only your TV, which sits idly on its home screen, creates light that illuminates the walls. Toji walks around your bed and settles into his side.

"What are we watching, this time?" He asks, reaching for the pack of sour gummy bears.

"It's your turn to choose," you say, offering the remote to him. "Last time we watched a bunch of Disney movies. I don't know if you wanna do that again," you say, smiling sheepishly.

"You doubt your taste in things too much, ma. Those Toy Story movies were pretty good. Show me another one of your favorites."

"Alright," you say, in compliance. You go to the Disney+ application and search for another favorite. Nothing too sing song-y, because you feel like you're on thin ice already in playing these animated movies for him. You got away with Jessie singing "When She Loved Me" in Toy Story 2, because even he thought the poor cowgirl got a rough deal when she was abandoned.

"Ratatouille?" He reads. "What's that about?"

"We're about to watch it," you say, briefly turning over and smiling.

He hums as he looks over the caption beneath the title that explains the synopsis of the movie.

"The rat's gonna cook? This should be interesting."

Lo and behold, he's hooked. Neither of you has made a peep and you're both mindlessly snacking on candy and chips, sipping on Gatorade, while watching the crazy things in this rat's life unfold. Him and his brother survived being struck by lightning and being shot at by an old lady with a shotgun. That part seemed to amuse Toji plenty.

Towards the end of the movie, Toji turns to you with sour sugar unknowingly speckled on his lips from the candy he's been feasting on, and leans in to press kisses to your temple and cheek.

"Watch," you say, smiling at the softness that meets your skin.

"I'm watching," he murmurs, continuing on with his sticky kisses.

"Look, they're stealing food from the kitchen," you explain, shocked despite already knowing what's going to happen.

"Mm," Toji hums, seemingly interested, but continuing on with his affectionate, sugary pecks.

"Look, you're gonna miss it," you say, giggling as you gently push his face away. It completely backfires on you, because he just grabs your wrist, and pulls your hand down to continue on with his kisses.

"Come here," he says, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you so that you're sitting right beside him, your thigh touching his and your shoulder pressed into his side. With a few more pecks to your cheek and a couple to the top of your head, he faces forward and continues watching the movie.

"Damn, they got shut down?" He says, in disbelief.

"Mhm," you hum in response, unable to answer verbally due to the chips in your mouth.

"Oh shit, they're back," Toji says, taking in the remainder of the movie. "And Remy cooks without controlling Spaghetti?"

"Linguini," you correct, with a laugh. "But yeah. Linguini's a waiter, now, and Remy's a chef."

The artistic end credits begin to appear and you turn to look at Toji.

"So... what did you think?" You ask.

"That had more action than The Terminator," he jokes. "The old lady with the shotgun was trying take out Remy and his brother and then she tried to hit the entire colony of rats with gas."

You giggle as he goes in depth of what he remembers, as if to prove to you that he was watching.

"I liked that one too," he says, with a smirk. "Would definitely watch it, again."

"Good," you chirp, internally proud that you were able to show him something good. "Your turn," you say, offering him the remote.

"You go again," he says, grabbing another sour gummy to dodge the remote.

"Toji," you mumble. "You should choose something you like. I wouldn't mind watching something new, too."

In truth, Toji doesn't want to watch explosive, gore infested, action movies when he's with you. It's the only genre he's thoroughly explored apart from some comedy, so he leaves you to do the choosing of the movies and shows you watch together. It's a great way for him to give new things a chance, because even though it seems like he's always the one showing you how and loosening the tight grip you have on the shell that obscures you, he's constantly learning from you, as well.

"How 'bout this, baby... If you choose the next one, i'll choose the next three," he offers, squeezing the plush of your thigh.

"You promise?" You say, eyes darting from where his enormous hand rests on your leg, to his face.

"'Course. I don't lie to you," he says.

"Okay, then," you say, moving onto a different platform to find another movie.

"While I wait..." he mumbles, a soft smile curling on his lips. His hand moves from your thigh to your waist as he wraps his arm around you. He goes back to kissing the side of your face, soft, wet little smooches planted along your cheek and your jaw.

"Gorgeous girl," he hums, his voice a soft breath against your skin. "I'm dying to kiss those pretty lips."

Your lips curl as you continue skimming through the section of recommended movies. You can feel his eyes on you, tracing over the features of your face.

"Just a quick one and then i'll stop bugging you," he requests. "Please? You're teasing me without even trying."

"But I'm not even doing anything," you argue, with a small laugh.

"That's what i'm saying," he says, in agreement. "You're not even trying. You're just pretty like that. Makes me wanna kiss you 'til you can't breathe."

"What? You said a quick one, just a few seconds ago," you remind, your smile widening at the way he changed his mind about wanting the minimum of your affection.

"Yeah, but you know how greedy I am about you, mama. I want more and more of you, all the time." His gaze flits between your coy smile and the softness that lingers in your eyes. You haven't paused your skimming of the movies, but he knows you're staring at the screen, mindlessly, feeling his attention. "You want me to beg?"

"No," you instantly respond. It's the one thing you never allow him to do. He's too good to you, for you to make him beg. "You don't have to do that."

"So, kiss me, sweetheart," he says, shifting positions so that he's lying down on his side. He pats the pillow that cushions your lower back, signaling for you to lie down. Like the obedient thing you are for him, you click play on the random movie you landed on and set the remote aside, before lying down on your side, facing Toji.

"What movie did you decide on?" He asks, dragging his knuckles tenderly over your cheek.

"I didn't look at the name," you answer, softly.

"We can skip the intro, right?" He murmurs, smirking when he feels the warmth that reaches your face beneath his palm. His thumb strokes the skin of your cheek, back and forth as he keeps up with your gaze, even when it derails from his due to the tension in the moment.

"Mhm," you hum.

"Come here," he instructs, his voice low, almost a whisper. His leg goes between your legs, just sitting there to achieve more physical contact with you. It doesn't go further than the desire to be innocently caught up in you and feel you pressed against him.

The first kisses—if they can even be called that—are tentative and teasing. Lips merely ghosting each other, barely grasping contact. It's enough to have your heart thudding rapidly in your chest. You hear a warm, rumbled chuckle coming from Toji.

"Closer," Toji hums, his hand splaying on your back and pushing you forward into him.

Finally, your lips connect. The feeling is warm, like you're being held, securely, without any intention of being released. The sound of the movie in the background is a mere whir, unheard through the imaginary force field created around you and Toji. It's just you and him, close as can be, living like nothing else matters as long as you have this love. Through gentle caresses, one unsteady heartbeat and an even unsteadier one, things are good.

Toji swears he will never feel this content and at peace anywhere else. You have a way of making him feel like he is everything. The way your eyes twinkle when you see him, the way you bare your soul to him every time you smile—it's love. It's pure, unadulterated love. He's your friend, your lover, your confidant, and he will never settle for being anything less than those things.

With one more brush of your lips, you both put the kissing on hold and lay there, just a little bit breathless. His hand rests on your lower back, playing with the hem of your shirt.

"I love you so fucking much, doll. You know that?" He murmurs, his attention bouncing between your lips that won't stop calling for him to kiss them and the warmth in your eyes. "Fridays aren't just another day, anymore. Same for every day I get to see you or even just talk to you on the phone if we can't be together." A soft sigh escapes his nose, followed by a very brief pause. "You just know how to make things better, and I wish you would believe it because you feel that way too, not just because i'm telling you."

"I'm sorry," you mumble.

"No. I don't want that, baby. Tell me something else."

"I love you, Toji," you say, ensuring that you speak clearly so that he gets the important words you need him to hear. "I like being around you. You'll never know just how safe you make me feel, but I do want you to know that it goes past the physical aspect."

He smiles, the expression soft, not telling of the giddiness that just spread throughout his body. A soft hum, followed by a somewhat frustrated sounding groan, precedes you being pulled into his tight embrace. You can't help the giggles that eventually evolve into laughter that just spills from you when he bombards your face with kisses. His lips press against your cheeks, the tip of your nose, the corners of your lips before he actually leaves a rapid barrage of pecks on your lips. Deep chuckles slip through his affectionate assault when you plant your hand on his chest, weakly pushing at him through the joyous sound of your laugh.

"T-Toji!" You squeal, your entire body shaking through your nonstop laughter. Despite it being nighttime, Toji feels like he's kissing and cuddling with the sun. His cheeks almost hurt from smiling so much.

With one final, elongated kiss to your forehead, he relents and lets you catch your breath. Soft giggles continue to flow past your lips as you work on composing yourself.

"You drive me crazy, doll," he says, grinning at how your chest still slightly heaves. He could do this every night with you, in a shared bed, that is in your shared bedroom, in your shared home.

"Alright, let's see what this movie's about," he mutters, flipping onto his back. "Come here." By now, the two words are a staple to Toji's conversations with you, because he always wants you attached to him. He outstretches his arm, and waits for you to scooch over and lay your head on his chest. Once you settle in, his arm wraps around you, tightly.

As you both try to catch up on what is going on in the movie, you realize none of it is making sense. You think it might be futile to try and understand what is happening when it may have been explained during the intro, but neither you nor Toji mind it, and just continue watching through the confusion, because the intro to this movie was never going to be as good as the moment you shared during it.

[madewithsilk]

dealer!ellie with bimbo!reader 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚

.ᐟ.ᐟ dealer!ellie that’s usually so sweet to you, treating you like a delicate princess who can't do anything by herself. She'll practically mansplain things to you, and when your head can't fathom anything, she'll simply chuckle and do it for you. That's how she likes it, keeping you dumb and dependent most of the time.

"What's wrong, ma', can't roll it right?" She chuckles, watching you struggle and try to roll a joint for her. She places her hands right over you, guiding yet watching you still miserably fail. "Jus' don' worry about it, lean back, 'kay?" Your little dumb nods fuel her even more.

.ᐟ.ᐟ dealer!ellie that likes keeping you high and floaty constantly to make you easier to deal with. There's very few times she'd prefer you at full force. Whether it be on a weekend that you're constantly nagging her or a day you're acting up and she wants you to be apologetic, she'll coerce you into finishing a whole joint by yourself.

“Yeah, mama? Feeling all nice n’ airy?” She whispers, kissing down your neck. Your eyes flutter, half-lidded and staring at Ellie. All that leaves your lips is mumbles and a nod. "Y-yea," Ellie simply chuckles, "Yeah, baby? Jus’ spread your legs a little wider for me?” Having you high and unaware is such easy access.

.ᐟ.ᐟ dealer!ellie that fucks you even more senseless than you already are. Strip you without any heads up, ram her strap into you, and give you a persistent pace to deal with. Or maybe she'll bend you over the counter when you're making something for her, eating you out from the back. It's slightly humiliating to be just a fuck toy for free use, but you're too dumb to even process that.

“Only good for taking my dick, huh, ma’?” She whispers, her fingers curling into your g-spot over and over again nonstop. You babble, manicured fingernails digging into her bicep, jaw going slack, little "uhn, ngh, fuckkk,"s leave your lips. Her words are always condescending with a bit of praise mixed in, she notices how much tighter you get when her insults are disguised as sweet words. "Fuckin' dumb on my cock, no wonder I love you so much,"

.ᐟ.ᐟ dealer!ellie that knows you're usually so fucking good for her, listening to her every word mindlessly with doe-eyes and a willing gaze because Ellie was just so sweet so how could you not behave! It always takes her by surprise when you don't behave, and she has to teach your little brain it's not nice to be bad. Maybe she's a little stern with her punishments, but she just wants to get it through your head! When you're both at a party, Ellie is far too busy dealing to give you any attention, and all you're doing is being bored by her side.

You huff a few times, grind against her thigh a few more, and after getting shut down each time with either a stern gaze or a "Be patient, baby. Don't make me repeat myself, 'kay?" while she doesn't even acknowledge your presence, counting her money, you finally get enough of it. You stand and walk away, ass swaying with the little miniskirt you wore, finding one of Ellie's closest friends, Abby.

Abby was attractive, that much was undeniable. But she wasn't the same as Ellie to you, yet you knew if you pretended, Ellie would still be ticked off. Your arms wrapped around Abby's neck, and Ellie's eyes darted over with a mean, mean stare. You finally got her attention, yet it wasn't the good type.

She dragged you out of there without any hesitation, hand-fisted in your hair, and a silent car drive till you both got home. It ended with you bent over her lap, squirming, crying, as she slapped your ass over and over again. “Embarrassing the fuck out of me at a party? Seriously, babe?” Your sobs and babbles were loud, spit drooling down your chin. "I'm sorry— said I was sorry!" You envisioned a different type of discipline, perhaps fucking you into the mattress, but this? Definitely not. "Too fuckin' bad, should've thought about this before you went to be a whore with Abby."

.ᐟ.ᐟ dealer!ellie who's possessive but in a bragging, show-off way. She'll pick out your outfits for you, bralette-like tops with miniskirts that expose your entire ass. She likes having people stare at what they'll never get.

She takes you to every dinner with her friends, right beside her in a booth, only speaking when spoken to with your tits out. Ellie will even play with your clit under the table for being so good to her. "Arm candy over there, Williams?" One of them will say, and you won't even think twice about the objectifying nature of the statement, merely happy you're seen as Ellie's.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Doing Time 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you try to keep your brother safe in jail but put yourself in danger along the way.

Characters: con/ex-con!Steve Rogers

Note: Hi hi hi

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You don't own many dresses, and those you do, are more office casual than date night. Still, you have no time to stall, no room for excuses. You pick out the only one you think you can still squeeze into.

A button-up black dress with long sleeves, a white collar, and white trim around the sleeves and ruffled hem. It's something that would look much better on Audrey Hepburn. 

You check yourself in the mirror. You shouldn't care but you have to. If you want to get out the other side of this, if you want Vaughn to, you need to go along with it. You need to keep Steve happy. 

You emerge, as content as you can be with your appearance after a day of work and an unsettling homecoming. You keep your eyes on the floor as you wring your hands. You need heels, something to match. 

Before you can pass him, Steve stomps toward you. He pinches the frill around your skirt. "You look amazing, sweetheart." He lets go and drags his hand up your thigh and hip. "Can't believe it's the real thing, right in front of me." 

"Uh, yeah," you agree weakly. "I need shoes." 

"Sure, sweetheart, take your time. Get dolled up," he moves away with a sultry sigh. 

You feel him watching you as you shift around and search the shoe rack. You bend over to take out the black vinyl kitten heels and he purrs. You wince and stand up, wobbling as you step into them. 

"Hate to be too forward but I was away a while. Pretty lady like you has me all hot under the collar," he snickers. "Gotta say that dress hugs you in all the right places." 

"Thank you," you murmur and untangle the thin strap of a small purse. You shuffle around your work bag and slip your ID and debit card inside, along with a tube of lip balm. 

"You don't gotta be so shy," he nears. "I mean, I should be. Being locked up, I forget the way things are out here." He steps close and spreads his hand across your ass. "Just so nice to touch you...but I'll be a good boy and take you on a date first." 

You shudder and resist the urge to shove him away. You force a smile, "where are we going?" 

"Somewhere close," he answers and peels his hand off of you. "Been a while since I had a date," he snorts. "If you can't guess." 

"Me too," you mutter as you back up toward the door. You grab your keys. 

"Oh yeah? How long?" He asks as he opens the door and gestures you through. 

"How... er..." you think about it.  

You've not been on many. Vaughn always kept the men away. Even if they wanted a second date, it was never many more than that. 

"At least a year, I think," you step into the hall and he comes out after you. 

You lock the door as he stays close. You tuck the keys into your purse and he offers his hand. "Ready, sweetheart?" 

You don't hesitate. No more of that. You can't keep pushing your luck. You put your hand in his. You can feel his strength. 

He takes you down the hallway and patiently assists you down the stairs as your heels make your steps unsure. Or maybe that’s him. He’s especially gallant for someone like him. A criminal. Wait, no, he’s been absolved, hasn’t he? 

He slips his hand along your lower back as you come outside. There’s a hitch in his strut. Victory. 

“Got her out of storage, fresh wax,” he announces as he approaches the white vintage car you noticed before.

It’s strange how you can pick every single thing that’s out of place but you can never put them together. It was the same with Vaughn. 

“It’s very nice,” you say. “I don’t know much about cars, my brother...” 

You trail off. You’d rather not think or talk about him right now. 

Steve opens the passenger door for you. You get in and he lingers at your door. He purrs. 

“You really do look just perfect, sweetheart.” he tickles your jawline then draws back.  

He finally shuts you in. You shiver as you watch him through the windshield. You fix the hem of the skirt as it rides up with the two sizes you’ve put on since you bought it. Or maybe it shrunk? You pinch yourself as you do, hoping you might wake up from this nightmare. 

No, you’re already awake. Painfully so. 

Steve gets in and you peek over for just a second. The seat emphasizes his size. Everything seems to remind you of his power over you. Over your family.  

You’re so stupid. You have no one to blame but yourself. What were you thinking? Thanking a convinct? A criminal? A murderer? Or not a murderer? 

“You’re tired,” he says as he backs out, “seat belt, sweetheart. Last thing I need is an accident.” 

You buckle up. You dab your nose as it tingles. Don’t cry. You have to play this right. Pretend. 

“A little, yeah. Work...” 

“At the clinic, right?” He prompts. 

It’s like the phone calls. That familiarity he puts on. Your head spins as you replay all those nights in your head. It struck you then how presumptuous he could be. How he said ‘we’. His presence then reframes every call, every visit. They were not the same to him as you. 

“Yeah, a lot of phone call,” you swallow as your throat scratches. “People don’t like waiting.” 

“Tell me about it,” he chuckles. “After how long I waited for this...” 

You stare at his hand. Huge, thick, gripping the slender wheel. You put your eyes to your lap and play with the ruffle. 

“We’re gonna have a good night, sweetheart. You and me.” He preens. “A lot of them.” 

You nod and turn your face to the window, “yes, Steve. Thank you.” 

⛓️‍💥

The restaurant is nice. As you’re greeted at the door, Steve snakes his hand down your arm and twines his fingers through yours. As he squeezes, you realise how strange it must be to him. You shouldn’t empathize with him, not with all the threats, with how he’s taken your life over in less than an hour, but you do. 

“Table for two,” he says. 

The hostess smiles, “yes, sir. I can find you something.” 

She grabs two menus and a smaller one from the desk. She turns and leads you into the dining room. You walk just ahead of Steve as he urges you on, though his hand stays on yours. She stops you at a round table framed with a crescent bench. 

“Booth alright?” 

“Sure is,” Steve answers. 

He holds onto you until you sit. You slide around and he follows. The hostess lays out the menus. 

“Drink menu,” she points to the thinner folio, “a server will be by soon.” 

“Thank you,” you gulp out of courtesy, Steve echoing you. 

You clasp your hands in your lap as he takes the wine list and opens it. You’re not very hungry. Or thirsty. You’re scared. 

You glance at him, the around the restaurant. To the other diners, to the staff, he’s just another man. The suit hides his true character. If you passed him on the street, you’d assume he was some refined businessman. 

“Red or white?” He asks. 

You look at him again. The silver strands woven into his blond shine beneath the chandelier lighting above. You drag your hand up your sleeve. 

“You know, I’m not much of a drinker,” you murmur. 

“Well, it’s a special night, isn’t it, baby?” He drawls and closes the folder. 

He sets it down and you shift forward on the seat. He touches your lower back again, tickling you through your dress. Your posture goes rigid as you open the menu and focus on the options. He pulls his menu down, leaning it on the table’s edge as he continues to pet you, his other hand cradling the folder. 

“Steak. Mm. Been a while since I had a good filet,” he growls. 

“Sounds nice,” you nod. 

“What about you?” He wonders and traces his finger up your spine. 

“Hm, the pistachio crusted halibut sounds interesting,” you tap your nails on the page. 

“You don’t gotta peck like a bird around me,” his hand falls right back down, right along the top of your ass. “You really got a nice figure, sweetheart.” 

You fidget and flutter your lashes, “thank you. It’s not that. I was thinking... something light for dinner and the rice pilaf sounds interesting.” 

“Ah,” he trails along the cushion of your rear, “god, you’re so...” 

His voice peters off and a server appears across the table. He sits up and clears his throat. The man in his pressed white shirt and black slacks is amiable as he prompts you for your order. Steve lets you go first. You close the menu and hand it over after you order. 

“Of course, miss,” the server smiles at you. He’s young and handsome. These sort of restaurants only hire a certain type. 

“Bottle of champagne,” Steve begins, “we’re celebrating,” his arm curls around your middle, “and the New York Strip...” He finishes up his order and shoves the menu across the table. What’s that about? 

“Yes, sir, I’ll be back with the bottle and put your order in,” the server nods and glances between the both of you. 

He strides away and Steve growls. His fingertips dig into your side. He leans back and sucks his teeth. 

“Is something... wrong?” You twist to look at him. 

“That... guy. Looking at you like that,” he sneers. “He’s supposed to be taking our order, not ogling you.” 

“No, he wasn’t, Steve,” you assure him. 

“Sure as hell was. You’re just too sweet to notice. His eyes were all over you,” he huffs and his leg sways in agitation. “Judging me. Thinks I’m too old.” 

“Steve, he was perfectly polite,” you say, “please, you said it’s going to be a good night.” 

You bite your tongue as you examine his face. His sudden anger, his paranoia, unsettles you even more. His jaw ticks as he grits his teeth. 

“Steve,” you touch his sleeve, “please, I’m not here with the server, am I?” 

His blue eyes flick over to you. They search your face. You force a smile. 

You have to keep from wincing as he reaches for you. He frames your face with his large hand and grins, “you’re right, sweetheart.” He draws you closer. You let him. “All mine.” 

He meets your lips with his and you swallow a gasp. His nose brushes yours as he kisses you, softly, then his tongue glides over your lips. You resist for only a second then let him in. His hand slips behind your head as he locks you in. You brace his chest as he takes your breath away. 

“Ahem,” the server clears his throat. 

You rip away from Steve as he snickers. He wipes his mouth shamelessly as you shrink down in embarrassment. The server uncorks the bottle with a pop, his smile effortlessly hiding all judgment. He’s probably honed against all types of customers. 

He pours the bubbly and leaves the bottle. You watch him go and squirm. Steve sits up and takes his glass, “what’sa matter, sweetheart?” 

“N-nothing, I don’t-- I don’t usually do that... in public,” you sniff. 

He laughs again, “I know, you’re a good girl.” He hovers his glass. You take yours and he clinks his against it, “to us.” 

“To... us.” You echo softly. 

You drink as he does, mirroring him. It’s sweet and bubbly. He sets the glass down and reaches for the bottle. He grips it and drags it closer. 

“Only one for me, since I’m driving, so help yourself,” he says. “You deserve it. A nice night to let go.” 

“Oh, I...” you stare at the dark glass. Why did he order the whole bottle? 

He slaps his hand on your thigh and you squeak. Your hand falls over his instinctively. You look at him and lick the moisture from your lips. He growls and kneads your flesh. 

“Sweetheart,” he rasps. “Aren’t you happy? I’m here.” 

Your eyes dart back and forth, “yes, I’m happy.” 

He pushes his shoulders back and his cheek dimples, he shifts on the cushion. His other hand tugs at the top of his belt. 

“Not gonna lie, gonna be hard to hold out all night,” he smirks. “Six years...” 

You blink at him. You won’t look down. That’s too much. 

“You gonna be nice to me?” He leans in to nuzzle your cheek, tickling the back of your neck so you shiver. “Huh? I’m so pent up, baby, you gotta take it easy on me.” 

You shudder and ball your hand up tightly. Your stomach is roaring but not from hunger. The more you think about what he means, what he expects, the sicker you feel. 

“It’s been... a while for me too,” you assure him. “We can take it slow.” 

“Slow, baby?” He hums. “Oh, I don’t think I can.” 

[cyborg-alchemist]

Being trans fucking rules for a lot of reasons.

So, to preface, I don't exactly have the standard accepted gender narrative of 'I was always a woman, born in the wrong body.' I was born a baby in a baby's body. From there, I transitioned into a kind of genderqueer kid, to definitely a boy, to a teenage boy that sometimes wore feminine clothing to piss of my school, to a fuck gender is fake and I don't want one, to transfem. All of those were me, more or less. I spent a solid 10 years being a grown ass man, and decided that I've seen about as much as I care to, and I didn't want to die wondering if I'd be happier as the version of myself that decided to do it.

Now I get to see what it's like to be on both sides of the hormonal experience, at least, to some degree. I never realized, as a man, how much the world felt through feminine skin. It's like my entire body was wrapped in callous, and I'm feeling with my bare skin for the first time. This is fantastic with soft clothes, clean sheets, and cuddles. The first time I did a load of dishes after getting my new skin, I nearly scrubbed my fingers off, trying to remove the feeling that there was dish grease inside my skin. I'm 30 now, and going through a second puberty, and it feels like I'm getting to rediscover the world through new hands.

It's emotionally different, too. As a man, I was plagued by these little flashes of frustration when something felt restrictive, bursting up faster than I could react to, and then gone moments later. I'm pretty sure this is where teenage boys get a reputation for punching drywall. Now, many of my more angry emotions have a slow release that I could never get before. I never used to be able to maintain a space between incandescent rage and empty stillness, but now I have a warm smoulder that I can nurse into action all day. I feel like my emotions are both smoothed out, but also more expressive now. I'm feeling in far more analogue signals, instead of something that felt far more binary before. I don't know how many of these feelings are "this is your brain on e" and how much is "This is your brain with that missing piece" but my transmasc friends have described the reverse experiences on their end. Testosterone, on average, made them both feel stronger, and express it less. But now I've been able to see all of that spectrum of experience.

In short, the act of crossing over is giving me so much perspective that I only vaguely suspected I was missing. I'm getting more life in my life.

And when I try to describe this to my cis woman friends, they don't seem to quite get it. Sometimes it feels like they simply don't realize how big a deal it is, and sometimes it's like trying to describe a cool drink of water to a fish. Most people can't describe what it's like to be them, because they haven't been anything else. Well, I HAVE been someone else, pretty recently, in fact. Every moment, I know what it's like to be me, because this time last year, I was a pretty different me.

On a more physical level, I think being transfem is the only way to have the configuration of body parts that I want without some big surgery, assuming a binary sex starting point. So there's that. I'm enjoying the second puberty, and I'm even, in some cases, enjoying that it is the second one. I'm planning on undoing some of the harrier results of the first, and I might want to train some out of the voice, but even cis folks don't get everything out of puberty that they want.

Like, sure, being trans in this time and place is A Lot, but that's "I don't like sharing a country with those assholes" not "I don't like being trans." The actual internal experience has been fantastic.

Trans people only

[sturnslutz]

back to friends.

angst, suggestive, friends with benefits, unresolved, being drunk, use of y/n wc: 1.7k listen to this song on repeat while reading.

matt walked into the room, stumbling onto your bed, his eyes heavy. you were laying down on your bed, aware of what had happened to him and kept both your doors unlocked for him to come inside without problem.

he let his body fall to the edge of your bed, barely hitting your feet. he grumbled, mumbling incoherent words into your sheets. you leaned up, scratching through his brown locks softly, matt letting out a small sound.

"y'need some water?" you ask softly. he nods, lifting his head up from your blanket, fully allowing you to see his drunk, tired face. "here. drink." you handed him a bottle of water that was on your side table, matt happily accepting it.

the last time matt was actually in your bed was not even 3 nights ago where him and his brothers got into an argument, leading him to come to you, his best friend, sobbing into the pillow.

after finishing the bottle, he tosses it somewhere before crawling up closer to you, clinging to you like a small child. "missed you. shoulda' came."

"you know i don't like those parties. i can't be around all those people, especially ones who are drunk." matt snickered at this. "can't be around me, huh? damn." you slap his arm softly, rolling your eyes.

"not you, y'aren't a alcoholic. you drink sometimes and go overboard at times." matt scoffed. "no i don't. y'just saying that so i'll stop." you get taken aback a bit by matt's sudden defensiveness but dismiss it. "you need to take a shower and sleep, you're being a bitch."

matt sat up on his forearms, his face hard as stone. "i'm not. fuck you." he stood up wobbily, heading to your bathroom, slamming the door in the process. you sigh, pulling out your phone and texting chris.

"matt's over again. wanna pick him up or just let him stay here?"

"fuck im sorry nick's staying over w a friend tn and im staying w a girl, ill pick him up tomorrow morning tho. hope he isn't too much of a hastle :/"

"nah hes good just a bit cranky"

matt walked in again, his shirt off but still remaining in his sweats. it looked like he had washed his face and ran his wet hands through his hair before he slid back into your bed next to you, letting his arm fall over your waist.

"y'texting chris?" he mumbles into your shoulder. you nod, humming. "yeah, just let him know you're here." he scoffs a bit. "like he cares. you guys worry way too fucking much. 'm a 21 year old man. fuck outta here with that "caring" bullshit." he sits up, grumbling.

matt had never really spoken to you this way, or even this loudly ever and you wondered where it all suddenly came from.

"you need to chill, matt." you say while playing with the ends of your hair, your eyes flickering to matt's silent self every few seconds. "shut the fuck up, y/n. you don't know shit. we hooked up, what 2 times? been friends for god knows how fuckin' long and you think you know shit about me. you don't. stop actin' like you my girlfriend." matt snaps, turning his upper body towards you.

"i'm just trying to help out-" "i don't need your fucking help. not you, not chris, not nick, not anyone." matt interrupts. he fully looks back at you, his eyes meeting your eyes for the first time that night, genuinely.

you see his eyes glance down to your lips before his eyebrows furrow a bit as it seems like he's searching every part of your face for something neither of you are quite sure of.

"what?" you ask simply. he meets your eyes again, his tough act growing once again. "nothing." he leans back down onto the bed, turning his body facing the other wall. he scoots himself back a bit subconsciously to let his back touch your arm, even slightly.

he doesn't move, and neither do you as the sounds of your breaths filling the quiet room. "im sorry, y/n. i don't mean to be mean. i just don't feel good." he says softly, after some time. he turns his body to face you, his eyes looking over at your figure that was being illuminated by your lamp on your sidetable.

you look over at him, seeing his low eyes examine your face a bit, before he leans in, kissing your lips softly, searching for anything. you kiss him back a bit before turning your head. "you reek of tequila." you laugh a bit and he rolls away, letting out a breathy laugh also.

"whatever. c'mere." he grabbed your jaw a bit tight, bringing your face back to meet his. you kissed back almost immediately, disregarding the reek. he lets his hand fall to your cheek, rubbing it softly.

after some time, matt pulled away. "remember the first time we kissed? when we were 14?" matt said while kissing your neck, bringing up the memory. "yeah, at summer camp. and we promised not to tell anyone or do it again then we made out in your tent later." you giggled, remembering the memory.

-flashback-

summer of 2017. best friends with the sturniolo triplets who invited you to their camp they've been going to since they were 6. it was lunchtime, and you and matt had picked a table somewhat far away from everyone else, something that became normal for the both of you.

this day, matt had taken a red marker from the arts and crafts station. "can i draw on you? just little hearts." matt said, fiddling with the marker in between his fingers. "yeah, go ahead." you said, taking a sip out of your chocolate milk that was somewhat good.

matt began drawing little red hearts and then coloring the inside of them with a bit more pressure to create a darker color against your skin. "i wanna try something." he whispers before leaning down and kissing each individual heart on your arm with such softness.

the movement caught you by such surprise, leaving your breath hitched in your throat, but you couldn't move your arm away. the feeling of him kissing your body felt so nice.

he leaned back up, with a clear marker stain on his lips. "was that okay?" he muttered, to which you immediately nodded to. "yeah, yeah. y'just got a little stain right there. i'll take it off." you pointed to his lips to which you leaned in, kissing him and him kissing back immediately.

you pulled away after a little bit, seeing that the stain had now been on both your lips, yours and his. he giggled seeing this, before leaning in once again.

-flashback over.-

"good times, i'm telling you y/n." he said before snuggling into your neck, wrapping his arm across your waist, pulling you in tightly. "turn off the light, would you?" he muttered. you nodded, leaning up and flicking the off switch.

the night went on smoothly, soft words and giggles being thrown into the air, eventually leading you two to fall asleep, wrapped up in each other, a lot more close and personal then "best friends" should be.

the sun peeked through your curtains, a low groan being emitted from your throat. you stretched, your knuckles hitting your headboard, causing another groan to be made.

you let your eyes open up a bit and noticed a certain emptiness next to you. you knew matt had come over last night and you two did fall asleep next to one another but did he really leave like that? a decision he's made countless times even after sex, promising he wouldn't do it again?

you leaned over to his side to look for anything of a sign of him. a note, a sock, anything. nothing. nothing was left, and it was almost like he wasn't there. you leaned back over, picking up your phone that was still attached to the charger, the time showing 8:37am.

he hadn't even left a text. he just left like the numerous times he had done before. you pulled up your texts with chris, the last being a text from you last night telling how matt had been "cranky."

"hey has matt left to your house? he js left without a word"

chris responded 3 minutes later.

"he left already? i was supposed to pick him up. lemme check his loc hold up"

"he turned it off lemme ask nick gimme a sec"

"nick said matt turned his location for him off too. all at 4:37am ig"

you checked your messages with matt, and it said the same thing.

"matt has stopped sharing their location with you at 4:37am."

he left 4 hours after he had came? where the fuck did he go?

"hey did u get home safe? left without saying anything lol"

matt responded 13 minutes later.

"ya"

"alr just text me later when ur less hungover"

"k"

throughout the day, matt still hasn't said anything. you had seen a couple clips of him from peoples' stories taking shots, smoking, and making out with random girls.

these stories were all on close friends or private stories of these influencers because if the internet had saw, matt would've been fucked.

seeing matt kiss other girls irked something in you, a feeling you know you shouldn't feel. but you did feel it, whether you liked it or not. matt and you were strictly only friends, a relationship was something the both of you couldn't commit to.

matt was known for being a "loverboy" and "the shy triplet" to the internet, but he was the complete opposite off of the screen. he would fuck you like no other, he would make you cry like no one else had, and he would make you laugh the hardest you ever have.

that's what you loved and hated about matt.

you had learned from before not to talk about your place with matt to him, and learned that he literally couldn't care about "aftercare" or whatever that shit was.

the feelings you felt for him had never changed and you continued to look past the toxic self he put on himself. you continued to see him as the guy you used to love when you were a teenager, and the adult who's back you always had, whenever he needed the support.

[angelackless]

LOVER

Joaquin Torres x Stark!reader

"YOU KNOW WHAT,SAM?I CHANGED MY MIND" JOAQUIN STOPPED IN FRONT OF THE TOWER.

"what do you mean you changed your mind?I got you a date with the girl you wouldn't shut up about for months now" Sam stopped to look at him "you can't do this man, she was so excited!"

"she was?" Joaquin asked, his voice filled with hope

"she was, when I told her about you she really seemed interested, and if you bolt right now, Stark gonna beat my ass and then yours when he finds you, and you don't want that,right?"

"I guess no" he shaked his head "alright, i'm just gonna give her this flowers, say she looks pretty and have a fun night with her" Joaquin said, mainly to reassure himself "Yeah, I can do it"

"yes,you can, now get inside pretty boy because I don't want (y/n) to think I pranked her again"

"wait,again?" Joaquin asked as he followed Sam inside the huge tower.

As they arrived at the level where the living room was, he immadetly saw (y/n), and Joaquin felt like he is gonna faint right there, he saw and was with some beautiful woman in his life but, you?hell, he thought he saw a freaking goddess, how the dress that you picked hugged all your curves in all the right places,yeah, he wasn't sure he can keep his hands to himself.I mean, come on, everyone thought (y/n) Stark is gorgeous, and he sure as hell didn't felt ashamed anymore for begging Sam an entire month to set this up.

"Hi, you're Joaquin, right?" you stepped closer to the boy with a kind smile "Sam told me a lot about you"

"only good things I hope" he glanced at Sam for a minute

"just good things" you answered giggling and he had to stop himself from the huge grin that just wanted to appear on his face "really, don't worry, I trust Sam, I know he wouldn't set me up with a bad guy"

"Yeah,yeah, cause i'm not bad, i'm a great great guy" he nodded his head "uhm...you look beautiful by the way, and I got you tulips"

"it's my favorite, thank you" you said as you took the bouquet from him "how did you know?"

"I know a lot of-" then he felt a sharp pain in his side, which was because of Sam elbowing him there "I mean, I asked Sam,yeah, I asked him"

"how about you two get going?the restaurant is not gonna wait for you two all night" Sam interrupted

"Yeah, let's go" Joaquin said and glanced at you "ladies first"

After a thirty minute drive you two arrived at the restaurant, it wasn't that popular nor fancy, which meant the paparazzi wouldn't take pictures of you and your dad, who is on a vacation, won't find out about your date through the internet.

After the waiter led you two to your table, and even got your orders there were a few moment of very very awkward silence, which he decided to break "Sam said that you're in university, what are you studying?"

"Stem" you answered smiling "which is not as cool as your job"

"what?no, don't say that" he shaked his head "I would die in your place, you're much more cooler than me"

"because i'm Tony Stark's daughter?"

"no, because you're you" he answered "you're smart,pretty,you always stand up for what is right,did I mentioned that you're smart? because I think you're incredibly smart" at his words a faint blush appeared on your face accompanied with a giggle

"you barely know me"

"Yeah,well I'm serious about what I said still, besides, I like you"

"you know, I think I like you too, maybe it's weird because we just met, but I feel like i've known you for twenty years" you looked straight into his eyes

"which means I can take you out again?"

"Yeah, you can take me out again" you nodded "but we will go to my place and I cook for us then"

"sounds like a plan" Joaquin winked at you.

[bunni-v1]

MORE JEALOUS PURE VANILLA COOKIE OMGGGG he'd totally be a jealous person despite his kindness

kinda imagining that in the stage during the push and pull he was doing, trying to push you away, you become quite close to some other cookies in the kingdom, specifically the creme Republic (clotted cream and financier) and he just gets.... uncomfortable when you two are FINALLY together because you're so friendly with clotted cream and his bodyguard.... like, hello.........

his eyes narrow slightly, and it just makes him feel so unpleasant, knowing that clotted cream cookie can easily strike up conversation with you and randomly tell him something you like—it makes his dough seethe slightly, whether he wants to admit it or not. or how financier and some random vanilla kingdom npcs mention a fact about you he coincidentally doesn't know because he was busy going through it and pushing you away before; OUGHHHHHH

i like to think white lily is involved in this in some way? he can't fully get over her and sometimes he tends to get passive about your very real concerns about how he looks at her as though he has something to say, i wonder how he would react if he finds you actually a bit insecure or unsure whether he'd pick you over her......... since he still cares deeply about his once first love, no?

anyways. yes. jealous PV is a concept that sticks heavily in my mind rn

-🃏

Jealousy Looks Ugly on You

🍓Hi pookiebear, I'm so sorry for 100% butchering the Creme Republic. I refuse to play that shit, even for that stupid blonde twink. Note, this takes place significantly after the events of Beast Yeast, so White Lily is technically visiting as a diplomat from the Faerie kingdom, and pv has already had his character development lol. Assumptions are made, and there is heavily implied past PureLily.

Tw: Poor communication; jealousy; implications at the very end; grammar/spelling errors

Info: Pure Vanilla x Reader; Implied past purelily; angst (not really though); fluff

Patience is a virtue that few cookies can claim to have. It's something that doesn't come easy to most, and Pure Vanilla Cookie has never judged anyone for being unable to hold themselves back from frustration. Except... himself of course.

He was exceptionally patient, to the point most gawked at him for his gentleness and understanding in certain situations. He held himself to a higher standard, and very few things brought out irritation in him. So... why exactly was the sight of Clotted Cream Cookie making his dough run so hot right now?

It wasn't as though Clotted Cream was doing anything offensive, quite the opposite actually. He was having a pleasant conversation, all warm smiles and... gentle touches. With who? Oh. Just the object of Pure Vanilla's deepest affections, the cookie he'd only recently been able to call his other half, his dearly beloved you.

Clotted Cream seems to speak to you with such familiarity, such warmth like perhaps he too harbors some kind of affection for you. Pure Vanilla's eyebrow twitches when he leans in to whisper something in your ear, and you laugh like it's the funniest thing you've ever heard. It nearly pulls a frown out of him, but his calm smile remains steadfast, not wanting you to notice and worry over him.

Still, his eyes narrow when Clotted Cream pats you on your shoulder good-naturedly. The former cookie locking eyes with him and smiling before sending you back to his side like he hadn't earned Pure Vanilla's ire only seconds ago. You are oblivious, as you always are, as he wants you to be. He only smiles at you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you just a little closer than he normally does.

"Did you enjoy your time with Clotted Cream Cookie, my love?" He asks sweetly, though he doesn't really want to know.

You give him a beaming smile, "As always. He knows how to make boring proceedings fun."

"Ah," he hopes you don't notice how he tenses, "What were you talking about just now, it seemed funny."

"Just an inside joke," you smile fondly as you remember, "it's only funny if you were there, or else I'd let you in on it too."

"That's alright," he hums, though his fingers press a little harder into your side as you walk, "I'm just happy to see you happy."

It's not a lie, either. He does love seeing your smile, but not when it's caused by another cookie. Not when it's treated like some kind of secret he's not meant to see. He tries to remind himself that there's no need to be so immature, but his dough is already warm and his mind spiraling. It took him so very long to come to terms with his feelings for you, he missed out on so much. Where he wasn't, other cookies were, and those cookies took his place in experiences that should've been his. Took smiles that should've been his. Moments he should've shared with you.

You place your hand where he holds you at your waist, turning to give him a warm smile. It warms his heart to know you're caring for him in your own way, but he doesn't want to make you worry. To ease your mind, he presses a kiss to your forehead, offering his own smile up to you. You were with him now, there was no need to worry any longer.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

Pure Vanilla enjoyed quiet moments with you, especially ones like this. In the garden, surrounded by the white lilies there was nothing more peaceful than that. Your fingers run along their delicate petals as you hum a little tune to yourself, and he enjoys the sight with unbridled delight. His favorite cookie surrounded by his favorite flowers, what a blessing it is on his soul.

There are times where he wishes that every day could be like this. Just you and him in company, taking things nice and slow, soaking in the environment. You turn a little to sneak a glance at him, smiling to yourself when you notice his staring. The shyness cute on your face, something he loves to draw out of you.

Yes moments like these are exactly what he lives fo—

“Y/n Cookie? Are you around?” The familiar voice of Financier Cookie calls amongst the sea of flowers.

You perk up, standing from your spot with a wide smile, “I’m over here with the lilies!”

She comes into view around the corner, normally stern expression softening at the sight of you. Pure Vanilla does not like the look on her face. Still, he holds his tongue, there was no reason to be upset. She was a friend.

“Clotted Cream requests your presence,” She announces, and when you frown she shakes her head, “Nothing serious, he wishes to continue your conversation from yesterday. He’s in he quarters as usual.”

You brighten up, “Oh! I suppose we never did finish talking— ah, but… Pure Vanilla and I were spending some time together.”

He does not frown, though he really wants to. He knows that he could just say no, that you would remain by his side if he asked… but he can’t possibly take up your time when you are wanted elsewhere. It would be unfair to do so over such petty jealousy.

“We see each other every day,” He assures with that same gentle smile, “Go and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”

You frown a little, “Are you sure?”

Of course he isn’t, “Positive. I’ll see you tonight.”

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at him worriedly, but ultimately wander off to find Clotted Cream. Financier stays back for a moment, watching you with an odd look on her face. The consideration is enough to pique his interest, so he raises his question.

“Is something the matter…?”

“Oh, no, nothing,” She shakes her head, “I would tell you immediately if there was anything to be concerned with.”

“Then why do you look so perplexed?” He asks again.

She seems to consider if telling him the truth is worth it or not. Mulling her options over for a few seconds before sighing, “It’s just a bit… odd to see them here.”

He frowns, “Whatever do you mean? Is there something wrong with the gardens?”

She shakes her head, sighing off some kind of weight, “Well, they’ve told me a few times in passing that they’re… not a fan of while lillie’s. The smell irritates them, if I’m remembering correctly, so it’s surprising to find them surrounded by them.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware…” He mutters, grip tightening on his staff.

She gives him a small reassuring smile, but it does anything but help, “I’m sure they just forgot to mention it, that’s all.”

“Of course, thank you Financier Cookie,” He hummed with as much sincerity he could muster.

She smiles tightly at him, and then leaves him alone with his thoughts. And think he does, far too much. Not only are you so close with so many cookies, not only did you leave him for Clotted Cream today, but now he learns you don’t even care for his favorite flower? You hadn’t ever mentioned it to him, but you had to other cookies. Wouldn’t something this important be worth talking about with him?

He takes a deep breath, leveling himself out once again. He couldn’t get ahead of himself, knowing that you would never do anything to hurt him purposefully. He couldn’t stop the ache, though. There was so much he did not know about you, so many things he had to learn that other cookies got to hear without asking.

How much time would it take for him to know you the way they did? He burned with jealousy at how easy it was for other cookies to know you, to see you and talk to you with no effort. Each time you were around he felt himself falling apart at the seams, grasping at any little sprinkle of attention you gave him. He could never be so casual with you, not with the effect you had on him, and it made him so jealous to know other cookies had it so easy.

He sighs again, setting his hat down. Not even the lilies were bringing him comfort now, his mood soured yet again. All he could do was sit and seethe until you returned to his side, imagining what you and Clotted Cream might be talking about that was so important to pluck you from his side.

��┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

It is days of this cycle, which he refuses to break, even when given the chance to a million times. He just can’t find it in himself to step in, not when you seem so happy. Besides, it’s not as though he never sees you. He gets to have you to himself for most of the day, and especially at night.

Still, the annoyance grows in his chest little by little. Without realizing it he distanced himself from you, not wanting to overstep, he decides giving you space is for the best. Yet, he doesn’t realize just how much space he has given you. You begin to miss him, but he always has an excuse for you to go and visit with other cookies.

It feels like he does not want you around, even though he misses you dearly. The conundrum reaches a head when White Lily comes to visit. Being the Faerie Queen now, it was rare she took the time to see her old friend. So when the news of her traveling reached his ears, he cleared all his time to be with her.

You had not seen him since she had arrived, unless you were in your shared room. Even then, you hardly spoke more than a few words. There was an awkwardness there that hadn’t existed only a few days prior, it made your stomach ache. But how could you bring up your concerns when he merely brushed them away, always finding some way to make peace with the situation.

You did not hate White Lily Cookie, she couldn’t not control Pure Vanilla. But the sickness in your dough when you see them together does not go away with any soothing. He talks to her with such ease and knowing, in a way he never did with you. And when he looks at her there is a deep affection that never existed for you.

It makes you hurt. You could never be her, not in a million years. Perhaps that was why he was so distant recently, because he had missed her. Perhaps he wished that you were White Lily Cookie instead.

Despite him seeming oblivious, he was anything but. He was fully aware of the distance he had made between the two of you, and yet… he didn’t know how to fix it. His people pleasing ways had come around to stab him in the back, and he had no idea how to heal the wound inflicted by his own foolish actions.

Not until White Lily’s keen eyes picked up in the tension. She had always been able to read him well, it was why he was so fond of her. She knew him like no other cookie did, and he her. Which is exactly why she was the one to notice how worried he’d seemed.

“You’re tense,” She said simply, taking her seat next to him in the pagoda.

He sighs, “Is it obvious.”

“To me,” She smiles, “Tell me what’s on your mind, friend. It’s rare to see you so worried.”

He frowns at her, all the tension and fear from the week flooding him now that she was confronting it, “I am afraid I may be ruining my relationship.”

She blinks at him, tilting her head, “How would you be doing that?”

After a moments hesitation he lists the ways he has been dealing with the situation. The worry that he will never be close enough to you. The annoyance in his chest when other cookies are chummy with you. The distance he has created to avoid those feeling only making them worse. She smiles through the whole thing, knowingly.

“So… you’re jealous?” She chuckles, leaning forward with a teasing smile.

“I… suppose I am,” He admits, “It’s not as though the feeling is new, but it’s never been so strong…”

She laughs at him again, “Because you are in love, silly. Of course it’s stronger, have you talked to them about it.”

“Well…”

“Pure Vanilla.” She scolds, “Goodness, when will you ever learn. You can’t people please all the time, it’s not good for your health.”

He sighs, nodding along in agreement, “I know, I just don’t know how to bring it up so I deflect. And I’ve been avoiding them since you arrived, I can tell they feel horrible, but I fear I’ve gone too far.”

She hushes him, grabbing his hand in her own, “It’s never too late if the intent is there. I’m sure they’ll understand if you just talk to them. I would.”

“Thank you White Lily,” He smiles genuinely for the first time since she arrived, “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She smiles warmly at him, squeezing his hand tightly. She always had a way to ease his worries with her words. It was just how well she knew him, she knew just what he needed as always.

A throat clears to the side of them, drawing their attention to it. White Lily reacts first, pulling her hands away from him and offering you a smile.

“Am I interrupting?” You ask, mousy with voice shaking.

“Of course not,” She assures, “We were just talking about you, actually!”

Your expression relaxes a bit, inching forward as if one of them might deny you entry, “Nothing bad I hope…”

“Never,” Pure Vanilla speaks with such warmth that you almost forget how much you’d missed him this whole time, “Please come join us.”

So you do, and you sit and talk with them, and things are nearly normal. Pure Vanilla is back to his usual affectionate self, like nothing ever happened. But you catch the way he and White Lily exchange glances, the way banter comes to them more easily than it ever has to you. They just understood each other in a way you never have, and you couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. Especially not after he’d pushed you away so much.

Eventually, White Lily leaves with the excuse of needing rest. Yet, you know it’s to give the two of you space. She’s always been observant and understanding, and you’re grateful for her consideration. When it is just you and Pure Vanilla again, you feel the tension begin to creep back between you. The thick wall of awkwardness wedging between you, and you fear for a moment that this is how it will be forever now. Then, he takes your hands in his, leaning over the table to get closer to you.

“I have to apologize,” He begins, “I have been unfair to you, and we have both suffered because of my actions.”

“Pure Vanilla—“ You want to ease his worries for some reason, tell him it’s alright, but he doesn’t allow you to.

“It took me a very long time to let you in, and because of that I fell short on sharing important moments with you. I’ve found myself… envious of other cookies who take up your time, and I’ve been immature in how I handle it,” He admits, stroking the backs of your hands, “I’ve put too much distance between us, and I can see how much it pains you. I’m so sorry for how I’ve acted, I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.”

It takes you a moment of awkward blinking to take in all he said, and while his genuineness is sweet, you can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your stomach. It’s ridiculous when you think about it. He was jealous so he avoided you, and at the same time you were just as jealous of White Lily Cookie. It was silly, and so easily solved, yet neither of you were willing to upset the other. He seems to find the humor in it all too, laughing heartily at your side.

You laugh until your sides hurt and tears are streaming from your eyes. Leaning your full weight on him so you don’t collapse to the floor. When you finally calm, you find it in yourself to admit to your own plight.

“I would be harsh on you, but I’m just as guilty of jealousy.” You sigh, squeezing his fingers in yours.

“What do you have to be jealous of?” He asks, and you almost can’t believe he doesn’t know. It’s so obvious to everyone else around him that he still adores White Lily, everyone but him it seems.

You shake your head in disbelief, “Gosh, you’re so oblivious. You really don’t know how you look at her, do you?”

He shakes his head with a deep frown.

“When you look at White Lily, I can see how much you still love her. I know you would never hurt me or betray me like that, but it does hurt when I see how you treat her. I feel like… maybe you’ll never look at me like that.” You admit, voice small and shaky the longer you go. It was hard to come to terms with how much it hurt, and worse to say out loud to him. He could reject you, pretend your feelings aren’t real.

Instead, he tucks a finger under you chin and forces your eyes on him, “I already do… I just get so embarrassed when you’re looking that I hide it from you.”

He pulls you a little closer, “I still love White Lily, but not in the same way that I love you. You are my whole world, my love. I would never leave you, not for anyone, and I’m sorry I made you worry for even a moment.”

You smile softly at him, leaning into his touch, “Next time, I think we should both just talk about it? All this dodging each other is silly.”

“I agree,” He chuckles, “I much prefer talking to you than not.”

“Very good,” You hum, sliding your arms around his shoulders, “Shall we make it up to each other then?”

His hand tug you closer by your waist, “I think that would be very nice, yes.”

[hhughes]

does luke get touchy with best friend if someone is looking at her weird and like he gets possessive

he does and he always feels so conflicted about it because he knows that they're not together and he has no right to feel possessive of her but he can't help the way his jaw clenches a little and his throat tightens a bit whenever a guy tries to hit on her.

luke's not blind, he knows violet is attractive, she's gorgeous, she's smart, she never fails to make him laugh. of course guys are going to hit on her. those brave enough to actually ask if her and luke are dating or not instead of assuming they were, at least.

and while those guys try and convince her to give them a shot, luke can't do anything but watch, and shoot daggers at the guy and hope he gets the hint, all while his other best friend silently judges him for it.

"what?" luke finally snaps, not being able to take dylan's little judgmental stare at the side of his head anymore

"nothing," dylan replies nonchalantly

"just say it," luke pleads

"you're acting like a jealous caveman right now," dylan says and luke shoots a glare his way

"no, I am not," he argues and dylan gives him a glare right back

"no? what do you call pulling her into your lap like that? while keeping eye contact with the guy who has been checking her out all night? that has marking your territory all over it. doesn't look like it worked though, the guy obviously wasn't scared off," dylan says and both of them look at where violet was laughing with some guy

"I'm just looking out for my friend," luke defends

"sure. you have nothing to worry about then. I have class with that guy. he has three sisters, the definition of a golden retriever. he's a great guy," dylan says, and the knots in luke's stomach only tighten up further

"great," luke replies dryly, knowing he means anything but. no guy would ever be good enough for violet, in luke's eyes. not even him. but even if there was a possibility that she could meet a great guy, that could treat her better than luke could ever hope for, and give her everything that luke couldn't, he still wouldn't feel right about it.

because there was this little voice in his head that said that she belonged with him and only him. that no one could understand, love or make her happier than luke could. and while that may be a little selfish, and make him somewhat of a bad friend, luke found some comfort and validation in the fact that the little voice sounded just like her.

[legendofmorons]

Yooooo happy 2 year anniversary!!! As for the fic bingo,

SOULMATE AU WITH LEGEND I AM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

I'm so normal about him I promise

Thank you!!!

I'm al SO normal about Legend ;)

(Soul) Marked hearts

Pairing: Legend x reader

Rating: T

Summary: In a world where you have the most important thing your soulmate says to you, printed somewhere on your body... you realize the man you love (and have loved for years) is your soulmate.

Warnings: cursing

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know

-------

You sit by the fire, side by side with your long time friend Legend. Cool summer night breezes lazily pass by as the star shin above you.

The others sleep peacefully as your shift of watch drags on.

"You didn't have to take watch with me." You say to him.

Legend shrugs half heartedly. "You get bored."

"I do." You smile.

He snorts, elbowing you gently.

You just roll tour eyes, leaning against him. It's one of the many privileges you are afforded as someone close to him.

Legend wraps one arm around you, staring out at the stars as everyone else sleeps. He rests his hand on your arm, the metal of his rings cooler than his flesh.

It's easy, being here with him. The way your mind wanders to what a life with him might entail is... nothing new.

You soak up the warmth and ease that radiates off him. This is something reserved for you.

Legend is a sweetheart. Under the jaded attitude, he's still kind. He's earned the right to be jaded. But here? When it's just the two of you?

He is always more open with you like this. He's comfortable enough with you to be softer. Comfort enough to be affectionate.

"Did you ever find your soulmate?" He asks you. "I know you wanted to."

You laugh. "Not yet. I... don't know that I care, either. You know?"

"I do."

"Oh?" You prompt, "Is there someone you want to pursue, bunny boy?"

"That's not my name." Legend huffs. He gives you a playful glare, too.

You smile. "Answer the question."

"Maybe. It's... not important. I don't think I have a chance." Legend pulls you closer.

You lean with it, humming. "Why not?"

"I doubt I'm their soulmate. You know the world we live in." He gives a half shrug.

His tone is bitter, and he sounds genuinely resigned to a fate without whoever it is he is talking about.

You fall silent, searching the fire for answers as if it can reassure you. What are you supposed to say?

You can't let yourself hope he's talking about you.

The urge to reassure him is stringer than any jealousy you have over a man that isn't yours. You love him, you don't want him upset.

"Well... Fuck em." You offer and smile at him, "If they don't feel the same their a total fool."

"Really? That's all you got?" He huffs, raising one brow.

"Yep." You say, poping the 'p'.

Legend stares at you with unreadable eyes. He looks at you, searching for something but you can't say what.

He looks back to the stars.

You settle back down against him.

Legend rubs your arm with his hand where it rests, arm still around you like a promise.

You don't know what it's a promise of, just that it is.

Minutes pass, silent companionship a steady beat in your heart.

Legend finally asks, "If... I tell you something, you can't laugh at me. Okay?"

"I make no promises." You say immediately. "When people say that they tell me things that make me laugh."

"It's not a joke." Legend says.

His voice is firm, but his frame shakes slightly against you.

You frown, pulling out of his hold and sitting up on your own. You watch his face for any hint of what he wants to say.

"I'm listening." You tell him. "I won't laugh."

"Did you mean what you said, that I should tell them?" Legend asks, voice quiet and shaking.

You offer a nod.

He looks at you with a vulnerability you rarely see on him. He looks sea sick.

"Okay." He says, letting out a breath.

"Take your time." You soothe. "It's okay."

Legend nods weakly. He is looking directly into your eyes.

He takes a deep breath, setting his shoulders before he speaks.

"I don't care if you're my soulmate, I chose you. You're who I want at my side, as my partner, as my spouse if you want to get married." He says, voice firm even as he looks ready to run.

You let out a gasp.

He watches you, hands shaking as he fists them in his lap.

You know those words.

Those are the words that's are printed on one of your shoulder blades.

Legend said-

Oh.

"Fuck, man." You breathe out.

You want to laugh a little. You don't, but the surprise is there.

Legend flinches.

"It's really you, Link." You say in awe, "You're the one."

He blinks, confusion flitting across his face. "What?"

"It's your words on me. It's you!" You smile.

His breath catches. He knows those words. Those are the words printed on his sternum.

You're hugging him quickly, heart beating too fast as you knock your knee against his in the movement.

Legend hugs you back on reflex, sucking in a breath. "We're so stupid."

You laugh softly, setting your forehead on his shoulder. "We're soulmates."

"I'm glad it's you." Legend decides.

You grin, pulling away to look at him again. "How long can we go before the others realize we're together?"

"We're together now?" Legend asks with a smirk.

"Yes." You say, taking his hand in your own. "You're mine forever, bunny boy."

"Only if you're mine too."

"Good." You say, pulling his hand to up and pressing a kiss to it.

"Sap." He acusses. Then he gives you a smirk. "We could probably go for a week or two before they put it together."

You laugh, "Yeah?"

"Absolutely."

You lean against him again, setting your joined hands on your thigh. "This is nice."

He hums, "It is."

"For what it's worth... I chose you too, Link."

He smiles, face red. "Yeah?"

"Forever."

Legend hums once. "Forever sounds... great."

You smile up at him.

He means it, too. He knows he's prickly and he has bad days, but if you'll have him he'll stay with you. Forever.

[starrbar]

Thanks for the tag x3 Sorry it took me so long to get to it haha. I'll highlight characters in red if I had a lot to say about multiples in one answer.

Favorite girl: I think I'd say Jinx because I love her character. All her scenes in S1 are compelling and tense, and I found her to be thoroughly tragic by the end. She's the thread that holds everything else together and it's beautiful. Also Ambessa and Sevika are both super hot and I always look forward to seeing them.

Favorite boy: I like boys. O_O My favorites are Silco, Singed, and Viktor. Silco is one of my favorite villain characters, very layered and complex, and I was genuinely intrigued and excited as I learned more of his story in S1. I'm also totally guilty of mega-simping for him in S2 despite how my opinions of the story would later sour. Singed honestly just has a fantastic voice and animation that hits me the same way Rango's animation does, where "ugly" characters are treated with such care that they're a treat to watch anyway. He's so stimulating aaaa. Finally, Viktor's arc in S1 is one of my favorites, handled patiently and expertly, and his arc in S2 has quite a few problems, but I still... really enjoy seeing him, and seeing him with Jayce, so I don't tend to be bothered by how S2 handled Viktor.

Least favorite character: You know what? I was so close to posting this with "S2 Caitlyn" because she's a nasty person who never gets to have a proper arc in any direction, but I think a more fitting answer would be S2 Vi. Caitlyn being an awful person in some scenes was still interesting and believable, if a bit rushed, and I would have been fine with her character going that path had it been executed a bit better. Vi, though, is just... turned into a sad lapdog who doesn't act on her own at any point and is just depressing to watch, even in her "happy" moments. God damn, they destroyed her this season. ><

Favorite ships: Zaundads, Sinco, JayVik, and Jilco. If I elaborated on each, I'd feel like I spent way too much time on this, but they each have dynamics I enjoy for different reasons.

Least favorite ship: S2 Caitvi. They were cute in S1, but S2 made Caitlyn an abusive war criminal and then pretended that didn't need to be properly addressed before Vi just gave herself to her. Blegh.

Favorite side character: Lately, it's Salo because I like em pathetic ahaha~ I've always loved Mylo too, adorable little Junkrat kid. x3c

Favorite songs: Oooooh this is a hard one. x3 Goodbye and What Could Have Been will always hit me so hard and remind me how watching Arcane for the first time felt, and for that, they're extra special. I think Playground still gives me those vibes too. I also adore Guns For Hire, and Dirty Little Animals goes so hard. S2 introduced quite a few songs I love too. Ashes and Blood, Renegade, and Spin the Wheel are favorites. Favorite score songs are: The Bridge, The City of Progress, You're Stronger Than You Think, You Can't Escape the Past, A Story of Opposites, Stubborn to the End, I Can Help Them, The Era of Hextech, Revenge, You're a Jinx, A Bicentennial, The Assailant, Romance, Traitor, She's Back, The Toy Boat, I'm Right Here, Showdown, First Steps, You're Perfect, and I'm far less familiar with S2's score, but I can't stop listening to I Promised You. <3

Favorite episode: S1 episode 3. There are tons of scenes I love throughout the story, but this episode marked one of the greatest experiences I've ever had watching a show.

Least favorite episode: So like... I'm not entirely sure which entire episode is my least favorite, so it might be easier to list "chunks", like all the Mel/Black Rose stuff is a boring waste of time to me, and all the final battle stuff is like... uuuuugh. But I didn't just wanna say s2 episode 9 because I do still like the Jayce and Viktor stuff even if, critically, I don't think most of it makes sense x'D. Those two are legit just a guilty pleasure this season and I'm okay with that.

Favorite duo: Oooooh, mmmm..... I think Jayce and Viktor fit the term "duo" best out of my favorites. My other fave is Jinx and Silco, even though they basically never work together, but their interactions are priceless. <3

Favorite design: Aaaaa so many good ones, ummm... honestly? Powder is one of my favorite characters to watch and her design is adorable and complex (a lot of characters are complex in design, but ye). I really love the mismatched look of a lot of Zaun outfits. Also past Silco is um, I'm locking him in my basement. >u>

Least favorite design: Hm... so... I don't think I've looked at any design and hated it, just felt like a few of them were kinda... not as appealing to me as previous versions. So, I prefer Ambessa's pre-S2A3 designs, and I think it's because she looks too slender in her final look compared to previous ones making her look so big and imposing. I think Jinx's newest design is... overrated and kind of messy to look at. I know she's a messy character, so that would fit, but I dunno, there's something missing or... something. It's also hard not to let my feelings on the story taint my feelings for some of the designs, like Vi and Caitlyn's, which look pretty damn cool actually, but I just always picture that final cuddly scene with them and it makes me feel icky.

Favorite scene: The Guns For Hire sequence ✨

Least favorite scene: The Silco, Vander, and Felicia flashback because it ruins the motivations of Silco and Vander, not just to adopt their kids, but to free Zaun from Piltover's oppressive hold. Felicia is pretty and even has some fun sassiness to her personality, but I want her far away from my boys.

I don't like this ending on a negative, so Imma add one more question myself:

Favorite visual moment: Of course, I can hardly pick less than a dozen, but I'll just list a couple off the top of my head, not counting previously mentioned stuff of course. I love the scene of the mage saving young Jayce and his mother. It's so gorgeous and fluid and the music adds so much too. Gahhhh- I also super love that shot of Silco leaning back while smoking right after he talks to Marcus.

I'm always bad at tagging, so just like, do it if you feel like! 8D

On tiktok there was this arcane trend that was just about stating some basic arcane opinions of yours and I thought it would be fun to do something similar here! You can tag others and make it a tagging game or you can just answer the questions do what you want :)

Favorite girl:

Favorite boy:

Least favorite character:

Favorite ship:

Least favorite ship:

Favorite side character:

Favorite song:

Favorite episode:

Least favorite episode:

Favorite duo:

Favorite design:

Least favorite design:

Favorite scene:

Least favorite scene:

[jamiehe4rtsmen]

⁹ can't believe i get to call you mine

୨ৎ

"you see that girl over there?" schlatt leans on the counter, pointing towards you across the deli shop, who was squinting at the menu (you forgot your glasses at home and were suffering the consequences).

the underpaid employee blinks. "yeah."

schlatt lights up, a dumb grin settling on his face as he lets out a giggle. "that's my girl. can you believe that?"

"wow... so, what kind of sandwich do you w—"

"i mean, that's like, the definition of pulling above your league. am i right?" he pushes his elbow into the cashier gently, like they were best buds who were catching up after a long day.

"for sure. what kind—"

"i asked her yesterday, and she actually said yes! can you believe i—"

"give me your fucking sandwich order."

his video had now garnered 9.9 million views, titled "the bit went too far". it started off as an apology video, apologinzg for something vague, until you walked into frame and chirped "hey babe, whatcha doin'?" in the video, schlatt whipped his head around and hissed, "shh! what if they see you? i'll lose like, all my revenue from my woman audience!" your eyes widen and you giggle conspiratorially, walking out of the frame. schlatt turns around, facing the screen, and shrugs awkwardly before the video cuts off. all thirty seconds of it went absolutely viral.

right after this video was posted, unpaid intern came out with its first episode. a specific clip mentioning you went viral.

"so, after everything that's happened today, how are we feeling? like schlatt, we all know you've got a girl back home." ludwig transferred the microphone from himself to schlatt.

he grumbled, "what's it t'ya?"

"well, are the two of you thinkin' about kids?" a grin broke out across ludwig's face.

schlatt's poker face was immaculate as he shrugged. "well, so far the two of us have been trying to keep her tamagotchi alive more than anything, so once we deal with that first... we'll think 'bout it. but i don't mind the idea."

the kids burst out into the classic teasing chant of, "schlatt and his girlfriend kissing in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G—"

"alright, alright! cool your little jets, kiddos." he groans, ruffling their hair.

on his new minecraft server, he was talking about you (as always). he killed a few sheep and made you a pink bed, placing it quite literally right next to his. he made a little sign that said "for my girl" and side eyed chat before quickly scrambling to add a little "<3" at the end, but when his chat teased him for it he scoffed, gaslighting to the thousandth degree. "psh.. no, chat. you guys are seein' things."

he'd added a new dono goal (which he reached in under an hour), which read "STREAM W/ THE MISSUS." he begrudgingly kept his word, booting up a just chatting stream titled "q&a with woman."

chat had fed him important questions to ask, like your name and hobbies, but he purposefully picked out the most funny one. straight-faced he looked at you and loudly proclaimed, "would you still love me if i was a blue ford f-150?" to which he got a hesitant, "...yes, but would i be like... carsexual then?"

he had also been caught and clipped glancing at his phone during streams and chuckling to himself, his cheeks flushed. sometimes he would even turn his phone to chat to show that toots 💕 texted him "saw a pineapple can at the grocery store next to a lawnmower and thought of you"

"ah. shakespeare's got nothin' on my girl. bill can suck a cock." he sighed, clearly lovelorn as he chuckled to himself.

sometimes chat would tease him with donos such as "blink twice if you need help" or "dating above your league final boss"

but his favorite thing was when someone on twitter tagged him in a photo of you and a man talking to each other, captioned "@/jschlatt, i'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but i saw your girl at a restaurant with this guy. dm me if you need emotional support 😘 xoxo"

schlatt was sent this tweet on stream, and burst out laughing. he laughed so hard he burst into tears, then he called you in the room with a mock-serious voice. "babe, jschlattsleftsock on twitter—"

"x, the everything app," you jokingly interrupt him.

he rolls his eyes, clearing his throat and grumbling, "not fuckin' calling it that. anyway, she said that you cheated on me with this guy." he burst into laughter as he showed the photo of you and the guy.

you burst into laughter two, but in between laughs you wheezed, "that's— my older brother— oh my gosh! and the xoxo at the end, the girl is shameless!"

chat, when they realized the truth of the situation, calmed down and started laughing too. you and the guy did look eerily similar to anyone with a pair of eyes, and it became a bit between the two of you and chat.

୨ৎ

divider credits @issysh3ll

[gensideas]

jealous jealous, girl.

summary; y/n is jealous of rafe’s girl friend.

content * advisory; none. just rafe being a tease.

It started off with Rafe's girl-friend wanting to come over everyday after golf practice. It’s not that you were mad about. it was the fact she knew how you felt when she asked questions liked that. it always made you feel uneasy.

then, she would ask to come over for dinner, and rafe the guy he is, he would say yes. You thought the way you felt was stupid. maybe you were just over-reacting, right?

it was one of those nights yet again. the one where rafe’s “friend” would ask to come over for the millionth time in 4 days. you were getting sick of it.

—

“rafe, this is the millionth time she’s come over. does she have too, again?” you asked, not looking away from your phone. “Look doll, it’s the last time I swear. I don't know why she keeps asking.” Rafe responded, standing behind you. “you said that last time, and she came the next day. can she just not come today?” you sighed, turning around. Rafe walked behind you, “baby, please. i pink swear this time. it’s the last time she’ll come over.”

you hummed, going upstairs to your shared bedroom.

you’d had enough and didn’t wanna hear him beg and keep a promise he couldn’t every time.

—

Rafe was in the kitchen cleaning when he heard a knock at the door. He rushed to open, greeting his friend. “Ruby, hey.” he moved to the side, letting her in. “hey rafey.” she walked into the kitchen/living room. “Wow, it's gorgeous here. Did you paint the walls?” ruby asked, sitting at the kitchen table. rafe sat down, “uh yeah, y/n painted it.” —“oh, it’s…nice.”

—

“sooo, how’s your day been?” ruby asked, taking a bite from her sandwich. “uh, it’s been alright. mostly been out with y/n running errands.” Rafe smiled, eating some alfredo. — ruby sighed, “oh, well um, that’s very nice.”

“yeah, best part of my day really.” Rafe replied, looking up at ruby. “uh rafe, i was thinking..im going to watch this movie on saturday. it’s called heart eyes or something. i was wondering if you wanted to go? — you know, just you and me?” ruby spoke, her cheeks flushed.

Rafe knew you wouldn’t like the idea of him being with another girl ALONE. let alone, you guys have plans that day. —

“uh, I can't. I have plans with y/n that I can't cancel." Rafe replied, standing up to get a drink. “oh uh, doing what exactly?” ruby asked, curious about what HER boy best friend had planned. “me and y/n are planning our vacation for the summer. we’re planning our wedding.” Rafe responded, pointing a glass of whiskey.

Ruby had enough. she was tired of seeing her friend with another girl. even if it’s not her, she wanted him all to herself. “seriously rafe? marriage?! i’ve been in love with you since forever and you choose that-“ ruby was cut off. “that what? because if you say another word, i don’t wanna hear it. if you have a problem, you can leave." Rafe turned around to look at ruby. Ruby just grabs her things and walks out. Rafe sighs, happy that she was finally gone.

—

as you were reading, you heard a knock on the bedroom door. “y/n, doll?” rafe called from the other side. “what is it, rafe?” you asked, walking towards the door. you opened it to be met with a relieved rafe. “she isn’t coming over anymore.” rafe responded, walking into the bedroom to sit on the bed. “and why is that?” you asked, surprised. “she fucking admitted her feelings towards me after i told her we were leaving for vacation.” rafe exclaimed, laying back into the bed.

—

you felt angry. not with him, well maybe a little but, mainly with ruby. she KNEW you guys were engaged, and still admitted her feelings in the midst of their lunch. “she did what..?” you sighed, clenching your fist. “she admitted her feelings..” rafe sighed. “oh i’m so gonna kill her. why would she do that.” — “i may or may not have told her we were planning our wedding.” — “you did what?!” you sternly spoke, eyes darting at rafe. “im sorry! i didn’t know she was going to admit her feelings.” rafe frowned, sitting back up.

—

“i swear to god. she’s sooooo gonna get it. she’s dead.” you responded, walking into the shared bathroom. rafe followed behind, “what’s got you so upset?” — “she not only one, admitted her feelings. but she knows!” you replied, trying to take a deep breath. rafe looks at you for a second before inching closer to your lips. “what are yo-“ — rafe kissed you, placing his hands on your waist.

—

“what was that for?” you chuckled, looking up at him. “so i could shut you up for a second.” he smirked, looking down at you.

“well, ruby is a great “friend” ain’t she?” you sarcastically asked, looking away.

“what? you jealous? hm.”

© 2024 GENSIDEAS. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. (PLEASE DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR PLAGIARIZE MY WORK!)

[bueckersstuff]

PART IV

The room is thick with tension, the air so heavy it feels like it might crush you. Paige hasn’t moved, hasn’t blinked. She’s still staring down Azzi, jaw clenched, fists trembling at her sides. And then, finally, she exhales—slow, controlled, but you can feel the shift in her.

She’s done.

Paige straightens, rolling her shoulders back. Her voice is steady, but there’s a finality to it that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I pick her.”

Azzi’s smirk falters. She wasn’t expecting that. Her confidence cracks for a split second before she quickly masks it with a scoff. “You’re serious?”

Paige nods. “Yeah. I am.”

Azzi steps back, lips pressing together like she’s trying to hold something in—anger, disbelief, maybe even hurt. But you don’t feel sorry for her. Not after everything.

Paige turns to you, her expression softening in an instant. She reaches for your hand, threading her fingers through yours, holding on tight—like she’s making sure you don’t disappear. And in that moment, everything else fades.

Azzi clicks her tongue. “You’re making a mistake.”

Paige doesn’t even look at her when she responds. “Maybe. But at least it’s mine to make.”

Azzi doesn’t say another word. She just turns and walks out, slamming the door behind her.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. Paige just holds onto you, her thumb running absentmindedly over your knuckles. Then she sighs, pressing her forehead against yours. “I’m gonna fix this.”

You shake your head. “Paige, you don’t have to—”

“I do.” Her voice is firm. “I’m not letting them paint you as some homewrecker. I should’ve ended things with Azzi sooner. I should’ve been honest. This is on me, not you.”

You swallow hard, because you know what this means. “How?”

Paige takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna do a press conference.”

Your stomach drops. “What?”

“I won’t name you,” she promises. “But I’ll set the record straight. Let them know that me and Azzi are done. That this—whatever this is—was never some scandal. I’m not letting them tear you apart over something that isn’t even your fault.”

It’s reckless. Dangerous. And yet, the way she says it, the way she looks at you like you’re something worth protecting—it makes your chest ache.

But not everyone is on board.

Paige insisted you accompany her to the meeting with her agent, Lindsay Kagawa Colas. You felt out of place, a silent observer in a world where decisions were made in boardrooms rather than on basketball courts.

As you entered the sleek office, Lindsay greeted both of you with a professional smile that didn't reach her eyes. She gestured for you to sit, her demeanor calm yet authoritative.

"Paige," Lindsay began, folding her hands on the polished table, "I've reviewed your proposal for the press conference. While I understand your desire to address the rumors, I must advise against it."

Paige's jaw tightened, but she remained composed. "I can't let these lies spread without addressing them. It's affecting not just me but those I care about."

Lindsay sighed, her gaze flickering to you briefly before returning to Paige. "I understand your frustration, but going public could jeopardize your endorsements and future career prospects, especially with the WNBA draft approaching."

Paige's eyes flashed with determination. "So, I should just stay silent while my personal life is dissected and misrepresented?"

“You are not doing a press conference.”

Paige sits across from her in her office, hands gripping the arms of the chair, barely containing her frustration. “Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.” Lindsay pinches the bridge of her nose. “Paige, do you have any idea how bad this could get? You’re graduating this year. You’re going pro. The last thing you need is unnecessary drama. You cannot let this get bigger than it already is.”

Paige’s jaw tightens. “It’s already big. My name is everywhere. And people are dragging her through the mud for something she didn’t even do.”

Lindsay leans forward. “And what do you think happens when you confirm the breakup? When you stand up there and make a speech? You think that just stops the rumors? You think that clears her name? No, Paige. It makes it worse. It makes you the villain.”

Paige shakes her head. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I do.” Her voice is sharp, cutting. “And so does UConn. And so do your future sponsors. You cannot afford to do this.”

She’s about to argue, about to fight, but then Lindsay’s next words land like a gut punch.

“You think you’re protecting her?” she asks, voice quieter now. “You’re not. You’re making it harder for her, too. The more noise you make, the bigger target she becomes.”

Paige goes still.

Lindsay leaned forward, her expression softening. "I'm asking you to consider the bigger picture. Sometimes, silence is the best response."

The tension in the room was palpable. Paige's fists clenched on her lap, her knuckles white. You wanted to reach out, to offer some comfort, but you remained still, knowing this was her battle to fight.

After a long pause, Paige nodded curtly. "I'll think about it."

Lindsay offered a tight-lipped smile. "That's all I ask."

As you left the office, Paige's silence was deafening. You could see the conflict raging within her—the desire to protect you clashing with the reality of her career's demands.

The following day, you received an unexpected summon to Coach Auriemma's office. Your heart pounded as you made your way there, anxiety gnawing at your insides.

You’ve never been in his office before, but it feels suffocating. He sits behind his desk, hands folded, gaze unreadable. When you enter, he gestures for you to sit, and you do, heart hammering in your chest.

“I’m not gonna dance around it,” he starts, his tone firm but not unkind. “I know what’s going on.”

Your stomach knots. “Sir, I—”

He holds up a hand. “I don’t care about the rumors. I care about Paige. And I care about what’s best for her.”

You bite your lip. “And you think I’m… not?”

Coach Auriemma exhales. “I think Paige is a damn good player with a future ahead of her. A future that’s already under a microscope. And if she does this press conference, if she makes a spectacle out of it, it could cost her.”

Your throat tightens. “I never asked her to—”

“I know,” he says, cutting you off. “And that’s the problem. Paige doesn’t care about the consequences. She’s ready to burn the whole thing down for you.”

You blink. “She… she said that?”

He leans forward. “She doesn’t have to. I see it. And as much as I admire that kind of loyalty, it’s dangerous. For her. And for you.”

You look away, because he’s right. Paige is reckless with her heart. With the things she loves. And right now, that’s you.

Coach Auriemma sighs. “You want to protect her, right?”

You nod. “More than anything.”

“Then step back,” he says simply. “At least for now. Let her finish this season. Let her go pro without this weight on her shoulders.”

Your breath catches. The idea of stepping back, of putting distance between you and Paige again—it hurts. More than you can explain.

And yet.

“Think about it,” Coach Auriemma says, his voice softer now. “Because if you love her, you won’t let her throw everything away for something that can wait.”

Can it, though?

That’s the question that eats away at you as you leave his office, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a storm cloud that won’t go away.

You don’t tell Paige about your conversation with Coach Auriemma.

Not because you don’t want to—but because you don’t know how. Because saying it out loud would make it real, and you’re not ready for that. Not yet.

The weight of his words lingers in your chest, heavier with every passing hour.

Step back. Let her finish the season. Let her go pro without this weight on her shoulders.

It makes sense. It makes so much sense that it hurts.

And maybe that’s why you decide to do something drastic.

Thanksgiving break is coming up. A perfect excuse. A perfect escape.

You’re packed before you even realize what you’re doing. The duffel bag sits at the foot of your bed, unzipped, stuffed with just enough clothes to last you the trip back home to Minnesota. You tell yourself it’s just for the break. Just some time to breathe. To think.

To be selfish for once.

You don’t tell Paige. You don’t tell anyone.

Because if you do, they’ll stop you.

You slip out of the dorm just as the sky begins to darken, hoodie pulled over your head, footsteps light against the pavement. The air is crisp, biting at your exposed skin, but you barely feel it. Your heart is pounding too hard.

You make it to the parking lot without incident, fingers shaking as you tighten your grip on your bag. Just a little further. Just a few more steps and—

“Where the hell are you going?”

You freeze.

Nika.

She’s standing a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest, brows furrowed in suspicion. Her gaze flickers to your bag, and then back to your face. “You running away or something?”

You exhale sharply, shoulders slumping. There’s no use lying. Not to her.

“I’m going home for break,” you admit.

Her expression doesn’t change. “And you were just gonna disappear without telling anyone?”

You swallow hard. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like?” she challenges, stepping closer. “Because last time I checked, Paige has been glued to your side. She’s fighting the entire damn world for you. And you’re just leaving?”

Your chest tightens. “She doesn’t need to fight for me,” you murmur. “She needs to focus on basketball. On her future. And I…” Your voice wavers. “I just need a second to breathe.”

Nika studies you, and for the first time, her tough exterior cracks just a little. She sees it—the exhaustion, the weight of it all pressing down on you.

“What happened?” she asks, softer this time.

You hesitate. But then the words spill out before you can stop them. “Coach Auriemma called me into his office. He told me it would be better for Paige’s career if I… if I stepped back. At least for now.”

Nika doesn’t say anything right away. Her jaw tightens, and her hands curl into fists at her sides. She looks ready to march into his office and cuss him out, but then she sighs, shaking her head. “And you just listened to him?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” you whisper. “She’s risking everything, Nika. Her future, her reputation… all for me. I can’t be the reason she loses it all.”

Nika’s quiet for a long time. And then she nods. “Okay.”

You blink. “Okay?”

“I won’t stop you,” she says. “If you need to go, go.”

A lump forms in your throat. “Thank you.”

“But,” she adds, fixing you with a sharp look. “You have to let Paige fix her own mess.”

Your stomach twists. “Nika—”

“She’s a big girl,” she interrupts. “And yeah, maybe she’s been reckless, maybe she’s been making dumbass decisions, but that’s on her. Not you. You don’t get to carry all of this by yourself.”

You don’t respond. You don’t know how to.

Nika exhales, running a hand through her hair. “I won’t tell Paige,” she promises. “But you owe it to her to talk when you come back.”

You nod slowly, chest aching. “I know.”

She studies you for another moment before sighing and stepping back. “Go, then. Before I change my mind.”

You don’t waste another second.

As you slip into the backseat of the Uber waiting to take you to the airport, you press your forehead against the window, watching as the campus fades from view.

You don’t know what awaits you back home. All you know is that, for the first time in a long time, you’re letting yourself take a break.

Even if it breaks you in the process.

The cold air bites at your skin as you sit outside your childhood home in Minnesota, staring at the phone screen that hasn’t stopped lighting up. Paige’s name dominates the notifications—calls, messages, voicemails. You haven’t responded to a single one.

You squeeze the phone in your hand, heart heavy with guilt. She’s done nothing wrong, and yet you’ve left her to suffer. Coach Auriemma’s words still echo in your mind.

If you love her, you won’t let her throw everything away for something that can wait.

But was disappearing really the right thing to do?

The vibration of your phone startles you, and this time, it’s Nika. You hesitate before finally picking up.

“Are you still at home?” she asks, sounding so tensed.

Your breath catches. “Nika—”

“She’s losing it,” Nika cuts you off, her voice sharp with urgency. “Like actually losing it. You need to hear this.”

Your stomach clenches, but you stay silent, gripping the phone tighter.

“She’s been a wreck ever since you left. Coach ripped into her and Azzi during practice. Called them out in front of everyone. Said their personal drama was a distraction to the team and that if they didn’t get their heads straight, they could both sit on the damn bench for all he cared.”

You close your eyes, already picturing the scene. Their coach doesn’t play around, especially when it comes to his team’s focus.

“But that’s not even the worst part,” Nika continues. “He mentioned you.”

Your eyes snap open. “What?”

“He was pissed and let it slip that you were part of the mess. Paige went stiff as a board. You should’ve seen her face. She asked what he meant, and he actually told her he spoke to you.”

Your breath falters. “What did she say?”

“She freaked out, obviously. Kept asking what he said to you, but Coach wouldn’t tell her. Just said he ‘advised’ you on what’s best.”

You rub a hand over your face. Shit.

“After that, I knew that she started calling you like crazy. She hasn’t stopped. She’s barely talking to anyone. Barely eating, dude. I tried to tell her you probably just needed space, but she’s convinced you left because of her.”

Guilt twists like a knife in your chest. You can hear Nika sigh on the other end. “Look, I get why you left. But this? This is killing her.”

You don’t say anything, because what can you say? That you knew this would happen? That you left to spare her, only to end up hurting her more?

Nika sighs again, softer this time. “She keeps updating you, doesn’t she?”

Your throat tightens. Yeah.

Paige has been sending messages non-stop. Long ones, short ones. Some begging, some demanding. Others just saying she misses you. That she doesn’t understand. That she needs to see you.

She’s unraveling.

Nika’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “Just—just let me know if you’re coming back, okay? She needs to know you’re not gone forever.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you stare at the latest message from Paige, your vision blurring as you read her words.

Please just tell me if you’re okay. If you don’t want me to call anymore, I’ll stop. Just… I need to know if you’re okay.

Your hands shake as you lock your phone and press it against your forehead, the weight of everything pressing down on you. You thought leaving would be the best way to protect her.

But now, you’re not so sure.

You’re pulled from sleep by the constant buzzing of your phone. The screen glows in the darkness, illuminating the room in short, erratic bursts. Blinking against the haze of sleep, you reach for it, squinting at the overwhelming flood of notifications.

Your heart stops when you see Paige’s name.

She posted on Instagram.

A photo. No—several. A collage, old memories spilling into the present. Your childhood together. Your high school days. The candid shots of laughter, inside jokes captured in pixels. And then, the recent ones—the ones taken in the past few months, the ones you thought no one else had noticed. A soft look she gave you after practice, your hands nearly brushing at a coffee shop, a blurred shot of you both standing too close at some party. It’s all there. Laid out for the world to see.

You swallow hard, your chest tightening as you read the caption.

Some people are just part of your soul. No matter how much time passes, no matter how many things change, they’re always there. Even when you lose them. Even when you’re the reason they’re gone.

It’s the kind of post that sounds more like a confession than an appreciation. And people are noticing. The comments are blowing up, theories forming faster than you can process them.

— Why does this sound like a breakup post???

— Wait… is she talking about Azzi or…?

— Who is this mystery person??

— Oh my god, the way she looks at her in these pics.

Your stomach churns. Then you see it.

Someone from back home. Someone who knows you and Paige.

— Before Azzi, it was always them. They go way back, trust me.

And people are buying it.

Your notifications spike—friend requests, follows, people digging, trying to put pieces together. Your stomach twists as you scroll, anxiety flooding your veins. This is getting too big.

And then, the final nail in the coffin.

A comment, posted just three minutes ago.

— Good to know you're still friends with each other, Paige. I just bumped into her this morning, still so charming and sweet.

Your blood runs cold. That's your high school classmate who actually lives here in Minnesota!

And then, Paige’s reply. It's the only comment she actually replied to.

— Thank you.

Just one minute ago.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Thank you.

Thank you for what? The compliment? The nostalgia? Or—

Or the clue of where you are?

“Fuck.”

Your hands are shaking as you stare at the screen, heart pounding so hard it drowns out all rational thought. And then, your phone dings.

Paige: I know where you are, baby. I’m coming to get you.

Your eyes snap to the clock. 4:00 AM.

You don’t know when she’s going to show up.

But you know one thing for sure.

You’re so, so doomed.

A featherlight touch tickles your ear, a sensation so faint it almost feels like a dream. Then, another—a ghosting touch against your cheek. You stir, shifting under the warmth of the blankets, but then you feel it again.

Something—someone—is here.

Your eyes flutter open, bleary and unfocused, and the first thing you see is Paige, perched on the edge of your bed, smiling down at you. But it’s not her usual smile. It’s a sad one, fragile and worn, like she’s been crying. Like she’s barely holding herself together.

"Why did you leave me?" she whispers, voice small, almost broken. "I got so scared."

Your heart clenches at the raw vulnerability in her eyes. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first. There’s so much you want to say, but you don’t even know where to begin.

Paige exhales shakily, blinking rapidly. "I thought I lost you. For real. I called. I texted. I had no idea where you were, and it drove me insane. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep—I just kept thinking, what if you weren’t coming back? What if I really ruined everything?"

You sit up, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Paige, I—"

"I know why you did it," she cuts in, her voice stronger now, but still laced with pain. "Nika told me everything. That you thought it was for the best. That you were trying to protect me. But, baby, you leaving? That didn’t protect me. It destroyed me."

Your breath catches. Paige’s fingers find yours, squeezing tight, almost desperate. "I don’t need protecting from you," she continues. "I need you. I don’t care what Coach Geno says, or what Lindsay thinks, or what the world expects from me. I only care about you. So don’t ever—ever—do that to me again."

Tears well in your eyes as you cup her face, thumbs brushing over the damp trails on her cheeks. "I just… I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want to hold you back, Paige. I didn’t want to be the reason you lost everything."

Paige shakes her head, shifting closer until her forehead presses against yours. "You are everything."

And that’s all it takes for the dam to break. The next thing you know, Paige is kissing you, and it’s different from before—it’s raw, emotional, relieving. Her hands are in your hair, yours are gripping the fabric of her hoodie like she might disappear again if you let go. The taste of salt lingers on your lips, but you don’t know if it’s from her tears or yours.

You don’t pull away until you're breathless, foreheads still pressed together. Paige lets out a shaky laugh. "God, I missed you."

You laugh too, watery and soft. "I missed you more."

She grins, bumping her nose against yours. "Impossible."

Breakfast with your parents is warm, filled with laughter and lingering touches under the table. Paige is her usual charming self, but there’s a tenderness in the way she looks at you, in the way she talks about you to your family—like she wants them to know just how much she cherishes you. And they do. They see it.

Your mom smirks when Paige clears both your plates before you even finish your first. "Still stealing food off her plate, huh?"

Paige grins sheepishly. "Can you blame me? She always get the best bites."

Your dad chuckles. "Some things never change."

And for the first time in a while, everything feels right.

Later in the afternoon, Paige takes you to her house. You hesitate when she pulls into the driveway, but she just laces her fingers with yours, squeezing reassuringly. "I wanted to see you first before coming home," she says softly. "That’s how important you are to me."

The words settle in your chest, warm and deep.

Inside, her family welcomes you with open arms. They tease Paige endlessly, making comments about how she’s been sidetracked before (Azzi, though no one outright says her name), but they knew—they always knew.

"She just got a little lost," her mom says with a wink. "But she found her way back."

Paige groans. "You guys are the worst."

Her younger siblings giggle, throwing in their own commentary about how she was always different when you were around—happier, lighter. It makes you wonder how long everyone had seen it before either of you did.

And then, in front of everyone, Paige clears her throat, looking straight at you. "I’m gonna court you properly this time. No games, no confusion. Just me, proving to you every day that you’re it for me."

Her dad whistles. "Bold move. I like it."

Your face burns, but you nod, heart thudding. "I’d like that."

She beams, and for a second, you forget everything else.

The evening is spent driving around old familiar places, reminiscing about childhood memories, seeing things in a different light now. Paige reaches for your hand at every stop, as if making sure you’re still real, still here. You are. And you’re not going anywhere.

But reality catches up fast.

Your phone buzzes—Nika. You answer, and before you can even say anything, she’s groaning. "Dude, where the hell is Paige? Coach Geno’s losing his damn mind."

Your stomach drops. "What?"

"He found out she flew to Minnesota. He’s pissed." Nika sighs. "You two need to get your asses back here ASAP. I booked a flight for Paige already. You coming back with her?"

You hesitate, but then you glance at Paige, who’s watching you with quiet expectation. Like she’s waiting to see if you’ll run again.

You take a breath. "Yeah. We’ll come back together."

Nika snorts. "Good. Because, uh, people already know who you are now, thanks to Paige’s stupid, drunken, emotional post. Might as well face the world together."

Paige cringes but grins at you, hopeful. "Together?"

You lace your fingers with hers. "Together."

And for the first time in a long time, that word doesn’t feel scary at all.

The flight back to UConn was quieter than expected. Paige held your hand the entire time, her thumb brushing over your knuckles absentmindedly, as if she was making sure you were still there. You could feel the weight of everything pressing down on her, but there was something steadier in her grip now—like she had made up her mind about something.

When you landed, reality hit. Paige pulled her hoodie up, trying to shield herself from the attention, but it was useless. Eyes followed you both through the airport, whispers rippling through the crowd like wildfire. People knew now. Maybe not the full story, but enough. The post she made, the comments, the theories—it had spiraled into something neither of you could control.

The second you stepped onto campus, you knew it was only a matter of time before you had to face everything you ran from. And it started with Geno.

Nika had given you both a warning text—He’s pissed, but not at you. Be ready.

You didn’t even get a chance to process that before you were being summoned to his office.

Geno Auriemma was pacing when you walked in, hands on his hips, muttering something under his breath. Paige straightened beside you, ready for whatever lecture was coming.

He stopped, looked between you two, then exhaled sharply. “Do you have any idea what kind of circus you’ve created?”

Paige lifted her chin. “I do.”

“Do you?” His eyes narrowed. “Because last I checked, you had a season to focus on. A future to protect. And instead, I’ve got reporters hounding me about your love life.”

Paige didn’t back down. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” Geno crossed his arms. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re ready to blow up everything for the sake of proving a point.”

Paige’s grip on your hand tightened. “It’s not about proving a point. It’s about doing what’s right.”

Geno studied her, then you. His gaze softened, just a little. “Kid,” he said, directing it at you this time. “You really planning on sticking around for this?”

You swallowed, but your voice was steady. “If Paige wants me here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Geno sighed, rubbing his temples. “Then I hope you’re both ready for the firestorm that’s coming.”

The confrontation with Azzi was next.

You didn’t seek it out, but it found you anyway. In the gym, of all places, where she stood by the lockers, arms crossed, waiting.

“I figured you’d come crawling back eventually,” she said, voice sharp. “Didn’t expect Paige to drag you back herself, though.”

You stiffened, but before you could speak, Paige stepped forward. “I didn’t drag anyone anywhere.”

Azzi’s eyes flicked to her. “Really? So this isn’t just you making another impulsive decision? Risking everything for someone who ran the second things got hard?”

You flinched, but Paige’s response was instant. “She didn’t run. I pushed her away.”

Azzi scoffed. “Yeah? And what happens when it gets too much again? When the pressure crushes you? You're gonna push her away again? Or maybe find someone new to hold your hand?”

Paige’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”

“Then why are you here?” Azzi’s voice wavered just slightly. “To rub it in my face? To prove a point?”

Paige shook her head. “No. To end this.”

Azzi’s expression faltered. “It’s already over.”

Paige nodded. “Yeah. And I should’ve ended it sooner. But I need you to know—this isn’t about you. It never was.”

Azzi’s eyes burned into yours, then back to Paige. For a second, she looked like she wanted to say something more. But then she just scoffed, turned, and walked away.

The media reaction was a whole different beast.

Some people loved the story. Childhood best friends reconnecting, fighting for love, defying expectations. Others? Not so much. Some still clung to Azzi, to the image of her and Paige together, painting you as the villain in a story you never asked to be part of.

But the tides were shifting. The more people dug, the more they learned about you and Paige’s history—how you’d been there long before the spotlight, long before the fame. Slowly, the narrative began to change.

One clip from an old high school interview resurfaced—a young Paige, smiling when asked about her best friend, talking about how you were the first person to believe in her dreams. It went viral overnight.

And then there was the final push.

Paige’s first official statement.

She didn’t hold a press conference like she originally wanted. Instead, she posted a video—a simple, unedited clip of her sitting in her dorm, looking straight into the camera.

“I never planned on my personal life being public,” she started. “But if people are going to talk, I’d rather they hear it from me.”

She took a breath. “Azzi and I are done. We ended things because it wasn’t working, and that’s the truth. And as for the rumors about me and—” She hesitated, then smiled slightly. “Her. I’m not gonna confirm or deny anything. But I will say this—I don’t regret a single thing.”

Paige paused, like she was choosing her next words carefully. “The people who’ve been here since the beginning, the ones who really know me, they know where my heart has always been.”

That was all she said. But it was enough.

The world could interpret it however they wanted. But you? You knew exactly what she meant.

And as you sat there, watching the video play out, you realized something.

This wasn’t just Paige fighting for you.

It was both of you, fighting for each other.

The return to UConn was chaotic, but somehow, you and Paige faced it together. The confrontation with Coach Auriemma had been tough—he wasn’t happy about the distractions, but after seeing how firm Paige was in her choice, he let it go. Azzi was another story. She had scoffed, feigned indifference, but you could see the bitterness in her eyes. However, over time, even she started to come around. One evening after practice, she pulled Paige aside and, though reluctant, admitted, “I just want you to be happy. And if that’s with her, then… I’ll deal with it.”

Nika? She just smirked, shaking her head. “Took you two long enough.”

The media had been relentless at first, but eventually, things started to shift. Paige’s history with you, your childhood friendship, the way you had always been in her life—it changed the narrative. The fans saw it too. Some still clung to the idea of her and Azzi, but most of them started to accept you. Even like you. And Paige? She made sure the world knew exactly where she stood—with you.

One evening, after a long day of classes and training, you and Paige found yourselves curled up on the couch in your shared apartment. The weight of everything was still there, lingering, but for the first time in weeks, it felt manageable.

Paige let out a sigh, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Come with me after I go pro.”

Your heart stilled. “Paige…”

“I mean it,” she said, pulling back to look at you. Her eyes were filled with something so raw, so desperate, it made your breath catch. “I don’t want to do any of this without you.”

You exhaled slowly, fingers tracing patterns on her arm. “I have dreams too, Paige. My own path. My own future.”

She nodded immediately. “I know. And I’d never ask you to give them up. But I won’t give you up either.”

You hesitated, because as much as you loved her, as much as you wanted to be with her, you had spent so much of your life trying to find your own way. You couldn’t just abandon that.

Sensing your turmoil, Paige cupped your face, her thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “Tell me what you want.”

You swallowed hard. “I want to finish my degree. I want to build something for myself. And I want you too, Paige. But I can’t follow you like a shadow. I need to stand on my own too.”

She was quiet for a long moment, then she nodded, determination settling in her expression. “Then we’ll build our life together. I’ll go wherever you go.”

Your breath hitched. “Paige, you—”

“I can play anywhere. I don’t have to be across the country. I don’t have to make this harder than it needs to be. We’ll figure it out, but I’m not leaving you behind.”

Tears pricked at your eyes. “Are you sure?”

Paige leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Months passed, and the world around you both continued to shift. Paige declared for the WNBA draft, and you stood by her side as she took that step into her future. She kept her promise—supporting you, making time for you, making sure you were part of her world.

And when the draft night came, when her name was called and she walked across that stage, she searched for you in the crowd, her eyes shining with tears and triumph. Later, when the cameras were off and the celebrations died down, she pulled you close, whispering against your lips, “We made it.”

You smiled, pressing your forehead to hers. “We did.”

The journey wasn’t perfect. There were challenges, moments of doubt, moments where the weight of it all felt unbearable. But through it all, one thing remained certain—Paige had chosen you. And you had chosen her, too.

In the months that followed, you both moved into a cozy apartment together, balancing her WNBA career with your own pursuits. Some nights, she came home exhausted from games, collapsing onto the couch with you, murmuring how grateful she was to have you by her side. Other nights, you stayed up late, working on your own dreams, with Paige curled up next to you, offering sleepy encouragement.

One day, as you both cooked dinner together, Paige wrapped her arms around you from behind, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I don’t care where life takes us,” she murmured. “As long as we’re together.”

You turned, looking into her eyes, and smiled. “Always.”

And with that, the future no longer seemed uncertain.

It was yours—together.

[zepskies]

So much angst in this one, right? 😅

the fact that this is how he sees their story, yet he's still chosen to be a dirty lying no good scoundrel really grinds my gears. like he needed to forget his name? I could smack him with a frying pan rapunzel style for the same effect lol

IKR? Piece of shit for real. lol I condone the Rapunzel treatment. 🍳

my immediate thought was well try harder 😭 and i did feel bad for a second, then I finished the chapter…i stand by my statement 😅

lolllll I don't blame you for that instinct honestly. He's not showing us that he deserved even an ounce of his wife saving his life and staying by his side.

so real lmaoo her inner conflict tugged at my heartstrings, i'm just glad she's giving herself some grace at least <3 it’s a difficult situation all around the flowers!!! 😩 oh dean :( and michael is truly a classic douche like sir you cannot just magically make it better with some flowers and dinner 🙂‍↔️🤚🏽

Haha Dean certainly gave her a reason to smile. 😏

Yeah she has to work through the complicated cobwebs of this situation in her mind and in her heart, poor thing. 💙 Same thing for Dean too with those flowers, especially when he runs into Michael. Exactly his point too! 😮‍💨

it’s bad enough he’s sleeping with a floozy on the regular but to take his wife’s money as well to fund that is actually beyond ballsy and insane. i hate them, justice for my girl fr 🫶🏽:(

RIGHT?! That would've sent me into contemplating murder loll.

ngl I had to put my phone down for a moment and yell into a pillow because dean, what the hell man 😩

LOL you kinda wanna choke the shit outta him, don't you? (not in the good way) 😝

oh dean, getting stabbed would’ve probably hurt less

lmfao facttts. Dean was not his best here, but yes at least he didn't let her stew in this misery and actually apologized and tried to comfort her, even if it was a bittersweet goodbye. 🥲

oh they’d work on me for sure 😭

Oh SAMe. 🥺

my heart aches, this chapter was so sad 😩 (not in a bad way!!🫶🏽) I feel for all three of them 😔🤍

I warned you guys about the heartbreak in this chapter. 🤭 I'm so sorry to do this to you, hun, but I promise there's a happy ending in store here 💙💙💙

ahhhhhh the cliffhanger! i’m guessing he found something illegal and/or dangerous 🤔 the preview is making me anxiousss, he better not hurt her! 😩

Big cliffhanger, again I'm so sorry! loll But you're getting very warm...

this was a wonderful chapter, very excited to see the drama unfold!!💗💗

Thank you so much, friend!! I'm very glad you enjoyed it despite all the heartbreak, but I can't wait to bring you guys the grand finale next week! 🥰💕

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.” 

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes. 

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list. 

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.” 

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you. 

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.  

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?” 

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.  

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you. 

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far. 

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp. 

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.” 

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel. 

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand. 

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol 

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

HAPPY ST DAVIDS DAY <33

I'm Welsh and in England (uni) for St Davids Day for it this year so have some Welsh Remus instead :)

"Hey, Moony?" Remus hears Sirius' voice, gentle and lilting, before he appears beside him. Remus shifts his weight slightly, offering him space on the windowsill. He sits opposite with a smile, and Remus does his best to offer one back. "I got you something." He holds out a box, carefully wrapped in green and white paper, tied with a shiny red ribbon. For a second, Remus just looks at it, confused.

"What...?" His eyes scan over the paper, only confusing him further. "It's March."

"I know."

"And not my birthday," he adds quickly, just in case Sirius has forgotten.

"Merlin, you have so little faith in me," Sirius says dramatically, miming being stabbed in the heart with an amused smile. "This isn't for your birthday. Just open it!" He holds the box a little further out, and Remus just decides to indulge whatever Sirius has done. Maybe he's clocked that Remus is in a foul fucking mood, and he's just stacked the box with chocolate. That would definitely make him feel better.

The moment he gets the box open, his heart stops.

The package is packed high with welsh cakes. Traditional, chocolate chip, even some with peanuts mixed in, from the look of it. They're all wrapped in clear film, tied with a bow that only Hope knows how to do.

Not only that, but there are daffodils stuffed in every space they'd fit into, a tiny Welsh flag, and two little figurines that he would recognise anywhere. One, a Welsh lady that his mum had given him when he was little, faded but still smiling, her checked apron slightly ripped and her bonnet slipping off where the stitches have loosened. The other, a man dressed in a red waistcoat, flat cap and dickie bow. The bow is drooping, and the tiny fake leek practically unrecognisable.

"How-?" Remus looks up at Sirius, stunned. "How did you get these?"

"I... sent your mum a letter." Remus picks up the flag with one hand, brushing his finger across the red dragon on the front. "Why didn't you tell any of us it was a holiday today?"

"I just... it seemed dumb, I don't know," Remus mumbles, trying to blink back tears. He's never been more touched by a gesture in his life. "It's weird to care about St. David's Day this much anyway."

"I think it's nice," Sirius says softly. "Having a holiday you can share with your family like that?"

"Yeah, we... my extended family all do a mini eisteddfod every year," Remus says, unable to help the smile on his face. "I- well, I haven't been in seven years, now."

"Rem..."

"I can't believe you did all of this."

"Yeah, well... I wanted to cheer you up a little." Sirius smiles a little anxiously, as though he's worried that Remus is going to hate it.

Before he can worry any further, Remus leans in and connects their lips. It's only brief, before he pulls away with a smile, lacing his fingers through Sirius'.

"It's amazing. You're amazing. Thank you so much." Sirius blushes, and Remus has never felt luckier in his life, having Sirius by his side. "Right, now you need to try a Welsh cake."

"Oh, it's- I don't really like raisins."

"Neither do I. These don't count, come on."

Maybe St. David's Day can be fun away from Wales.

Maybe anything can be fun when Sirius is involved.

[wernerherzogs]

the thing is. i can't even fully make fun of bucktommies for their tommy takes given what continues to be done to my man eddie diaz. like at least tommy's a canvas blank enough that even batshit insane headcanons with zero basis in show's canon are like. eyeroll worthy to me at most. because that man does not matter longterm at all. but with eddie it's like some of you can't envision gayness if it doesn't fit a Recognizable Media Stereotype. so he's been repressed his whole life and hasn't lived a single genuine experience ever yet and everything he does is a performance and he doesn't know how to be A Man because he's secretly an elder sister. despite nothing in canon even remotely indicating that as he's been perfectly normal about being a man who's a single parent all this time. he literally only worries about the emotional side of him not meeting the societal/parental standards of Being A Man Who's A Single Father. his ptsd is a not mental or canon enough a canon mental illness you guys are now forcing an entire dsm-5 on him. he secretly longs to be a weho fag who wears cashmere sweaters and has a purse dog or a cat and he's only overcompensating with his truck because god forbid his fashion sense or current hobbies were genuine. meeting kim was a psychotic break instead of a network procedural character dealing with seeing a dead copy of his late wife in a genuinely the most normal way possible under the circumstances. like why are you twisting this guy into shapes he's not because otherwise you just can't buy him being queer/gay like... do you only know bi sluts and formerly repressed broadway gays in real life with no in between? is that it. because buck is another fascinating part of this. his characterization seems fairly consistent no matter where on the top-bottom spectrum people put him. is it because bisexuality has a smaller amount of stereotypes associated with it so you don't feel the need of implying he's been performing everything his entire life like what's going on. and being a Bi Slut has actually canon room to exist here, so it's naturally never been an issue. but he can be a late bloomer bi and yet no one accuses him of only overcompensating with his truck or being a passenger princess despite tommy driving him around and he can be your dom top while still regularly displaying an affinity for things stereotypically viewed as female-coded (as cooking/baking, even for his girlfriend taylor, or cooing after newborn babies like a fic-worthy omega in heat). those specific things either get ignored or dialed up to eleven in fic but he's still ol' good fun buck who aches and wants to be loved and has his abandonment issues and sex issues and so on and so forth but remains fairly recognizable and mostly true to canon every time in the eyes of bajillion different writers. why is he immune while eddie isn't why are you respectful of canon when it comes to buck but eddie's suddenly in a hbo show and not a network procedural when transported into the fic realm can someone explain this.