#It took too long to gather all of them up

[heartmix]

Come To The Game - Joe Burrow

Pairing: Joe Burrow x fem!reader

Word Count: 2k+

Warning: lying to parents, hopelessly in love best friends

Twelve Fics of Christmas - Christmas Game

A/N: this is really all over the place, i had no clue where i wanted it to go and had no clue how to end it.

Masterlist / NFL Masterlist

America's favorite sport, football. America's favorite time to celebrate while watching sports, holidays, specifically Christmas. It was a tradition in your family to spend Christmas day watching football and eating food, much like your Thanksgiving tradition. After opening presents everyone would gather in the living room to watch whatever game was playing. 

This year was a bit different. For one your parents and siblings would be traveling to Cincinnati to spend Christmas with you. The appeal of snowfall and wanting to be in a new place for the holidays was enough to convince them. What really sealed the deal was that you got them Christmas Day tickets to watch the Bengals vs Steelers. Well, Joe got them for you. It took days of convincing from him to let him do this for you and your family. 

"This is perfect. We'll finally be together in the same place for Christmas. I have my parents up in the family box so why not have your family meet mine?" He made a case knowing how badly you also wanted to go see them on Christmas day, it would also be your first Christmas game. 

"Joe I know how much tickets are for games, but I can't phantom how much holiday games cost." 

"You don't seem to care about the price when you're at every game." He smirked making you groan as his argument. He had a point, you never turned down a game for as long as you knew him. 

"I hate you." You mumbled out as soon as he sent you the tickets for the game. 

With a big smile, he said, "I know." 

Game day rolled around fast. Since the Bengals were the first game of the day everyone woke up extra early to get ready and meet at the stadium before the traffic was too bad. Everyone came to an agreement to wait till tonight to open presents. You were yet to tell them it would be at Joe's house with his family. 

After greeting a few security guards and workers you knew, one of the Bengals assistants walked you guys up to the family suite making your once loud family quiet. They were suspicious you were friendly with the staff, but being led to the suite silenced them completely. 

"Honey, please tell me you didn't spend millions for these seats." Your mom's voice rang as she took in the suite. It was decked out with fancy seating, buffet tables, and tv's on every corner. 

This is why you were nervous and hesitant about Joe inviting them to the game. There might have been a few details you forgot to tell them. One of them being that you knew the Bengals Quarterback. Joe has been your best friend since he got signed to the Bengals. He met you while exploring the town and you offered to show him what you knew after being there for years to attend university. 

"Umm-" Before you could respond a voice called out for you. Turning around you found it was Joe's mom who was waving you over to where you guys would be sitting. 

"Robin! Hi!" You embraced the woman despite seeing her just a few days ago when you and Joe picked them up from the airport. 

"Hi, sweetie." Joe's dad greeted you next and you gave him the same warm hug you gave Robin. 

"This is my parents, brother and sister. Guys this is Robin and Jim." You introduced everyone, them taking time to greet and hug each other. 

"It's so great to finally meet you guys, your daughter is just an angel." Robin went on to your parents who still had confused faces. 

"This is Joe's parents." Clarifying your confused family. 

"Burrow?!" Your brother asked a bit too loud for your liking, like there weren't other people in the suite, mainly the player's families. 

"Yeah, the quarterback." 

"How the hell do you know Joe Burrow?" Your dad's face was in shock, it was hard to surprise the man so seeing that reaction scared you. 

"Umm since his first year of being on the team." 

"Well, we have to thank him for this then." He put two and two together that you probably didn't spend money on these at all. 

"Good thing you'll be spending Christmas night with us!" Robin said with a big smile ignoring that you didn't tell your parents about her son. She didn't mind at all, thinking you didn't want to flaunt Joe around. 

The look your mom gave you was one of 'we are going to talk when we get in the car' One you weren't looking forward to. There was never once you hid something from her, especially your friend group. 

"Ooooh, youuu in troubleee." Your little sister said making you roll your eyes and push her head to sit down. 

The game went great. Once it started it was like your parents forgot about you lying to them and cheered for the Bengals. The game was electrifying with the Bengals scoring numerous touchdowns eventually getting them the win. When the game ended all of you made your way down to the locker room, per Joe's request. Inside you were panicking, you were praying your dad and brother didn't make any snarky comments, not about Joe but about the circumstance. 

Slowly the players made their way from the locker room to their families, or rushing to get home to see them. When Joe came out he spotted you all instantly. Hugging his parents first he moved on to you with a big smile. Forgetting about everyone for a second you engulfed him with a big hug to the point he lifted you off the ground. 

"Congrats superstar." You smiled as he placed you down. 

"Aren't you glad you came." he teased and at that, you remember your family was here. 

"Guys, this is Joe. Joe this is my family." You stepped aside to present Joe to your folks watching on nervously at the interaction. 

"It's great to finally meet you guys." He smiled at everyone not sure how to properly greet them. 

"I would say it's nice to finally meet you too but we had no clue you guys knew each other." Your dad said but immediately pulled him into a hug like he knew the dude for years. 

"Very nice to meet you honey." Your mom greeted pulling him into a hug also. 

"How did my sister pull you?" Your brother asked making you and Joe go red. There was that snarky comment. 

"We're not dating." You mumbled which caused eyebrows to be raised from your family. 

"Shall we go? I'm cooking dinner tonight!" Robin's voice broke the tension in the air. Thank god for her knowing social cues. 

"Oh great! we can help." Your mom said referring to the both of you. 

The drive to Joe's house was awkward, to say the least. It was filled with you trying not to crash the car as your family interrogated you about Joe and the sudden relationship, or lack thereof. Your dad and brother question about how you two became so close while your mother questions why you hid it from everyone. Bless your sister for being too young to care about you not mentioning Joe, being content with her iPad games.  

"Look I'm sorry okay, I just didn't want to flaunt that I knew him. Can we be civil for tonight because it's Christmas, I don't want you guys mad at me for this today." You begged turning off the car when you were in Joe's driveway. 

"Sorry sweetie, we'll be good." Your dad reassured planting a kiss on your forehead before everyone agreed. 

With being over so often you opened the door like you lived there. You saw Joe and Jim already in the living room watching the second football game of the day while you assumed Robin was in the kitchen preparing to cook. 

"There you guys are!" Jim's voice rang through making you smile. 

"Come watch with us." Joe's charming smile said as your dad and siblings didn't hesitate to find a seat. Joe found your eyes pleading with you to sit next to him. You looked over to your mom who gave you a look of 'I know you love football but you are crazy if you think you're not helping in the kitchen.' she's right and you know she raised you better than that. 

"I'm gonna help in the kitchen, hope it's a boring game." You winked over to Joe and Jim making the older man laugh. For a second you saw a flicker of disappointment in eyes before he stood up to follow you. 

"I'll help you guys." 

For the better half of 2 hours, you, Robin, your mom, and Joe slaved away in the kitchen. There were moments when there would be cheers from both of your dads making your and Joe's head pop up trying to get a glimpse of what was going on. Every so often the two moms would give each other looks. Robin knew that ever since she met you, Joe was head over heels for you. Your mother despite finding out about Joe today knew you cared for him on a deeper level. 

"Why don't you two go watch the game, we got the finishing touches here."Robin's voice broke the two of you away from peaking into the living room. 

"You sure?" 

"Yeah. Go cool off." Your mom said this time and it wasn't a second later that Joe was pulling you away to flop onto the empty two-seater. Jim was used to this action by the both of you but your dad and brother looked over with eyebrows raised. 

"I forgot to say this but thank you for today, despite them being weird." You whispered making sure not to interrupt those who were watching the game. 

"You don't have to thank me, I wanted you there." He smiled pulling your legs onto his lap so that he could rub calming circles into your calf knowing you were stressed about today. 

"Still, It's been great having you in my life." Both of you just smiled and stared into the other's eyes. Both of you were so caught up with each other like it was just the both of you in the room. Nothing else was as important as the both of you being in each other's arms. 

"I really wanna kiss you." He mumbled catching you off guard. Did you mishear him? 

"What?" 

"You heard me." He smirked loving the reaction he was getting from you. He couldn't help it. The way you were looking at him with loving eyes and being so close to him, how could he not want to kiss you? 

"If you really want to." With your final approval, he leaned in, grabbing the side of your bringing your face closer till he felt your lips meet. Butterflies erupted in your stomach making you smile into the kiss. 

"YOU GUYS ARE DATING!" the loud voice of your brother broke the both of you away from the kiss. Looking over to the group of people each of them had different reactions. Your brother had his jaw hanging on the floor, your dad was confused at what he had just witnessed, and Jim who had a smirk. 

"I guess we are." You heard Joe say from beside you. Wiping your head over to him you saw the goofy smile on his face. Today just sealed the deal that he wanted to spend his days and nights with you. 

"We are?" Shocked was an understatement. Sure you both just shared your first kiss, but you didn't think it would move into a relationship immediately after. 

"Yeah, I've been wanting to do that since you came to your first game." He confessed. It was cute to see him like this and you wouldn't mind dating him if you got to see that goofy smile more. 

"Well Merry Christmas, your gift is me." 

"Best gift ever." He smirked before leaning in for another kiss. 

[bats-and-the-birds]

The Batkids on being mistaken as Bruce's biological children.

Look, the Batkids have all been forced into various social gatherings, and enough of them share vague features with Bruce that some of the older members among Gotham's old money, or the younger ones that are out of the loop, sometimes mix up the facts.

Dick gets it from the very beginning. Old women pinch his cheeks, still tan from a life outside of Gotham's gloom, and tell him, Such a sweet little boy, and just like your father at your age. His hair used to stick up just like yours. Dick didn't like it at all. He bit the first person that told him he had Bruce's eyes, and stomped on the foot of an old politician that told him, With your father's height, I thought you'd be taller by now.

He laughs it off as an adult, but sometimes, it still eats at him. People still tell him that they thought he'd eventually be as tall as Bruce, or that he should be thankful for his inherited jaw line. It's not the comparison to Bruce that bothers him anymore, or even being mistaken as his son, but rather, the fact that he sometimes struggles to remember exactly where his features actually came from; parental faces turning fuzzy in his distant memory.

Jason thinks it's funny, the first time it happens. Mostly because it's his nose of all things. Your nose is bent, grumbled the old man sitting across from him at the gala, Just like your father's. Tough luck on the genetics. The man didn't realize the bent noses were because they'd both been broken in the past. Jason spent days after studying Bruce's face, trying to figure out if their noses really bent in the same way, and eventually came to the conclusion that, yeah, they really did. From that point on, each time either of them broke their nose, Jason would distantly think, Ah, damn, there goes the family resemblance.

As an adult, Jason takes care to make sure people don't often seen his face. The hood does a pretty good job of that. Besides, he doesn't move in circles where the mistake could be made anymore. Still, sometimes he looks in the mirror at the bump in his nose and thinks, Family resemblance. Yeah, right.

It happens less with Tim. Anyone that made the mistake with Jason and Dick also remembered Jack and Janet Drake. It's not until he's almost an adult that a new hire at Wayne Industries, some kid from out of town, sees him and Bruce in the office together and remarks, Oh, you two furrow your eyebrows in the same way when you think. My mom says that my dad and I do that too. We inherited it from my grandpa. Tim feels unsettled all day and makes a conscious effort to not to furrow his eyebrows anymore.

There's no mistake to make with Damian. At least, not the same one that can be made with the others. He's the blood son, and he's a perfect mix between Bruce and Talia. Of course, there's the well-meaning, if confused, adults that assume he's adopted like the others. He corrects them, swiftly, and sometimes aggressively.

There is one incident. It happens while Bruce is gone, after he's been staying with Grayson for a few months. He knew, of course, that people thought that Grayson looked like Bruce. He could even see the similarities. Superficially, of course. However, he never considered that Grayson looking like his father also meant that Grayson looked like him. Not until an old woman leaned over to him at a gala and said, You look just like your father when Mister Wayne first brought him out to these things. The hair, that disgruntled little frown. He hated these parties too. Couldn't ever sit still. Gosh, I really can't believe it's been long enough that he has a child of his own. It took Damian a while to realize what happened, and even then, he couldn't bring himself to tell her that he wasn't actually Grayson's son, or that he and Grayson weren't actually that far apart in age. He felt strangely guilty the rest of the night, and he never dared to tell Grayson about it.

It happened to Steph exactly once. Really, she doesn't look like Bruce at all. It was a man with exceptionally thick glasses, who actually told her that she reminded him of Martha Wayne. She's pretty sure he was just trying to be nice. She tries to forget about it. She never tells Bruce.

You have his eyes, is what Duke gets. Which confuses him, because, uh, no, he doesn't. Not even close like Dick's. He says as much to the woman that said it to him, and she squints her eyes at him and responds, No, you definitely do. Not in the shape or the color, but you look at things the same way he does. Duke thinks about that sometimes, and he swings back and forth between being annoyed and weirdly proud that he apparently looked at the world like Batman did.

People tell Cass that she has his smile. She beams with pride at that. After all, she learned it from him. She studied, closely, the way his mouth ticked up at the corners, both while he stretched the dazzling, fake smile across his face for the public, and the genuine, gentle smiles that he gave her while he helped tie her hair back or slip on her mask, and now she could replicate them both perfectly. She didn't like the fake one, but she knew it was necessary.

[henneseyhoe]

Home For Christmas

Terry Richmond x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: none, lil bit of angst if you squint, fluff, short.

SUMMARY: Your husband, Terry, promises to be home to you and your daughters for Christmas, but will he really?

✮✮✮✮

The snow outside lit up the yard in the moonlight, frost nipping at the windowsill the more the weather dropped. There wasn’t a soul outside, not even the little black cat you saw wandering around late at night. Even she couldn’t be bothered with the harsh cold.

The house was warm and so was the hot chocolate you cuddled in your hand, but nothing could warm you the way you needed to be warmed. Nothing could make you feel the Christmas spirit you wanted to feel.

You missed your husband like crazy and your kids did too. They could feel the sadness radiating off of your body and it didn’t make it better for them, but you couldn’t help it. Terry had been stuck in another state for work, promising that he’d be back on time for Christmas, yet, he hadn’t shown and it was 5 hours to 12.

The roads had closed and from what you heard, till further notice. Flights were being canceled left and right, hell, you were nearly snowed into the house, only a small walk way you shoveled earlier prevailing, but even that was starting to freeze over a bit.

“Mama” Your 7 year old daughter, Tiana, called for you, looking up from her laying position in your lap.

You gave her your attention, a soft smile spreading on your face. She looked just like you when she was upset. You felt bad that she was sad too, but it was the cutest face she made that made you smile.

“I thought daddy said he’d be here by nowww” She whines, her baby sister, Jasmine, almost immediately getting annoyed as this was her fifth time mentioning what she thought was the obvious.

“Ana, you have to wait! Mommy told you already” Her little finger pointed at sister with agitation on her face that made you wanna laugh, but that’d just get you scolded by ‘little miss thinks she’s mommy’ too and you didn’t think you had the energy to correct it tonight.

She had so much attitude before she even turned 4, all of it inherited right from Terry when it came to people she cared for the most, a trait of loyalty you were sure Terry also took part in.

Before they could even get to arguing, you set your mug down on the windowsill and gathered them both up next to you, their matching onesies getting all bunched up from mixing in one spot for so long.

“Aht, cut it out you two. Daddy means well when he tells us things, but…maybe he just got the times wrong. If he isn’t back by tomorrow, then we’ll just have to forgive him, okay?”

Your youngest’s eyes quickly fill with tears that pull at your heart strings, her lip poking up with a quiver only Terry could settle at the moment. “So he’s not coming back tonight?”

You sigh. A few more hours of this and you were sure to cry with her.

“How about we wish really hard and go to bed, then see what happens?” Your children were quick to try and disagree while attempting to flee, but you swooped them up into your arms anyway and cuddled them close, giving them their nightly kisses.

Your back may be aching tomorrow from sharing a couch with two children, but they convinced you earlier to be around here to ‘catch santa’ and you couldn’t help but give in with the possibility of Terry not being here and upsetting them further.

Hours ticked by and you counted almost all of them, going in and out of sleep until you were knocked out of your cycle by the sound of boots against hardwood. Your eyes cracked open, seemingly at the same time as the mini-me’s laying on top of you, that followed by a gasp from both of the girls.

You and the kids almost leap from your seats, the sun outside the floor to ceiling windows in the living room making an attempt to blind all three of you, but all of you were on a mission that couldn’t be ruined by sleep still being in your eyes.

“DADDY!!!” The screams of joy were so loud from the kids that you would have thought they were awake all along, not a speck of grogginess in their voice.

Terry toppled over with both of them jumping for his legs, but he still managed to hold them properly, giving them both kisses on their chubby cheeks that they happily accepted. You had no idea how he pulled something like this off, not to mention bringing the rest of their presents from ‘santa’ in without disturbing anyone’s sleep.

“Really?” You ask in disbelief, Terry giving you a shrug before sitting up, sending the two off to pick a present out to open.

You were still curious, a shrug not being enough for you. “How?” You squint, helping him up from the floor.

“Christmas magic, baby. I always find a way”

He smiles and kisses your lips, then leads you to the tree. Again, the explanation wasn’t enough.

“Oh, please! Don’t gimme that, I’m not five, Terry” You complain, pulling his hand off of yours to demand a direct answer.

Terry sighs and looks at you with his arms now crossed, still happy despite being pressed before you even moved to give him a kiss first. “If I told you, you’d call me a liar”

“Well…” You wait, tapping your foot to add on effect.

There was a hint of childishness in his smile, you already knowing this wouldn’t be the answer you wanted either. “Santa brought me”

“….Nigg-”

Before you could even call out bullshit, You were quickly shut up by the presence of your kids, the both of them gasping in awe at what they just overheard being revealed to you.

“You know what…fine” You throw your hands up in defeat and chop it up to what he said, Christmas magic.

✮✮✮✮

As the children settled down and played with their toys, you became stuck to your husbands side like you were glued there, your arms wrapped around him. You admired him while he admired the kids, your tummy fluttering with butterflies similar to when you two first met.

“I really hope you know…” You started, bringing his attention to you.

“Hm?”

“That I love you and your determination to always come through for us, especially your kids, makes me love you even more”

He smiles brightly, his heart skipping beats. “I’m supposed to. Not that I don’t want to also, but I hate to see yall upset. Plus, I couldn’t miss their faces opening their new ballet shoes”

You smile back at him and stand on your tip toes for a kiss, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

“Oh, and I was gonna let them jump you if you were late. They told me not to tell you” You say after pulling from your fifth kiss that day.

“Wooow, straight out the gate? No warning?”

“Mhm! nothing but elbows as soon as you walked through that door”

Terry shook his head with a laugh, already plotting on catching the two off guard with a little roughhousing session.

“It be your own kids”

“Yup. May have told them to get a little lick in for me too”

You shrug, letting him go and walking off into the kitchen, knowing he’d follow like a stray.

“Damn, mama too? What’d I do to her?”

Wrapping his arms around you while still in motion, he mimics your footsteps all the way to the counter.

“Leave me with two hard heads for a week. I got something for you later though”

He smiles against your neck then playfully bites at you, your chin tucking in to protect yourself.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Mrs.Richmond”

✮✮✮✮

💌- Merry Christmas! i hope yall enjoyed yalls holiday. Here’s something short and sweet cause i love a good family fic lmao. <3

[zph]

christmas with scaramouche. gn!reader | fluff. short drabble.

notes: fluff, very brief mention of angst in the beginning, mistletoe shenanigans, scara kinda compared to the grinch lol, small kiss (kinda on brand for this blog), not proofread

a/v: happy holidays everyone & merry xmas / eve to those who celebrate :) wrote this with straight indulgence & all vibes.

masterlist

Scaramouche doesn't really celebrate Christmas.

Not for the lack of liking the holiday, but rather, his family never bothered with the tradition and the people who once did celebrate were long and far gone now.

So, soon he later found disinterest in most holidays. Christmas included. The flashing neon lights, the obnoxious 3 songs they play during the season, and sickly sweet gingerbread cookies that serve, all left the prickly sensation in his chest.

That was until he met you.

You, who wanted to celebrate with him and enthusiastically so, or in your words, it was special because it marked the first time you both first celebrate Christmas together.

You, who somehow convinced him not completely hate the idea and to get into the spirit via. sweaters, hats, and….non-sugared sugar cookies. Whatever that meant.

“This hat is not bad.” He presses down the hat to fit snugly on his head.

You waved him off with a laugh. “Of course, of course. It is all yours.”

You, who took the time to decorate the apartment with the assortment of tinsels, stockings, and candles. Nothing too fancy but enough to easy to clean. Something that didn’t make him feel overwhelmed.

You, who is also currently trying to convince him to get under the mistletoe.

"That is not a mistletoe." He stared at the poor misshapen mistletoe that you diy-ed yourself. “I’m not sure what that is actually.”

“It is a mistletoe if you believe it is.” You added one more duck tape to your ‘science project’ and settled down with a firm nod. “Now watch…” You leaned against the wall. “Come here.”

His eyes stray from you to the mistletoe and almost resist the urge to laugh despite himself. Ridiculous.

“Sure.” He says, like a liar. Instead, he stepped away to gather the cookies from the box beside him: one shaped like you and the other shaped like him.

“You are worse than the man who stole Christmas.”

He took one glance at his grinch sweater (courtesy of you who wanted to match with the ugly sweaters tradition) and nodded with a snicker. “You’re right. I’m definitely better than him.”

Stepping towards you, he lifted up the two ornaments figures near the mistletoe. Then smushed their faces together. Kiss. “See, now I made them kiss.” His smile only grew once he spot the look of bewilderment on your face down to your gaping mouth. “Hm? What’s wrong?”

“That was….actually really cute.”

“Hah, told you, I’m better than the grinch.”

…

“I take that back.”

He shook his head. Can’t believe there would be a day where he would find himself actually enjoying Christmas.

Case in point: When he looked back to you, you were only step away from him, slowly closing the distance between you both. One hand closing around his, clenching the lookalike figures.

“Merry Christmas you Grinch.” And there, you rightfully took the kiss from beneath the mistletoe, breathing in the winter joy and chuckling against his lips. “Now, come on, let’s go eat these cookies.”

Scaramouche couldn’t help but laugh despite himself. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

Scaramouche doesn't really celebrate Christmas. But luckily, he finds that he wouldn’t mind spending it with you.

[writingwisterias]

Day 25: Size Kink

Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, Size Kink, Implied Creep Leon, Internet Friends, meet up, unprotected sex, praise Kink, Implied Age-Gap

Masterlist

Thank you for all the love over the advent! I hope you all have a lovely day whether you celebrate or not! I didn't really think this would get as much love as it did so thank you ❤️ Hope you stick around within in the next year I have lots planned...Have a happy new year 💗 ~ Love Mads

He was bigger than you thought as he towered over you; his leaking cock dripping steadily. An effect he found out only came from you, after he spent many nights chatting to you in discord. The explicit photos that you would trade with him. His photos never did him justice, his cock was so pretty, long veins running up the side. His head poked through and was sensitive. “Leon…I don't think this will fit?” You spoke, chuckling nervously. Leon smirked looking back at his cock, grabbing the base as he knelt on the bed. “It's fine we can just make sure your warmed up”

Leon's age didn't make you uncomfortable, he never pressured you to do anything. He was patient and kind about how you ended up in this situation. Your constant chatter ended up with a friendship better than anyone in your real life, his texts and notifications never failing to make you laugh and smile. Then he was in town and asked to meet you. You never meant for you to end up in this situation, the winter chill settling in as he offered you his jacket. His arm pressing you into his side when he asked if you would like to return to the hotel. It took a bunch of room service chips thrown at you to finally cave, smelling the leather that lingered on his neck as he pulled you in closer. His lips vaguely tasted of aged whiskey.

He allowed you to lead, your fingers removing his shirt first. Your fingers running along the raised parts of his skin, each nightmare he's faced a mark now permanently marked. Yet, now you lay here beneath him as his fingers slide through your folds gathering the slick that had begun to dribble out of your hungry cunt. Leon hadn't expected this to happen when he offered to meet up. Fully expecting to have wormed his way each meetup, of course he had planned more. You messaged him everyday - he didn't care where he was, your text chime made him swoon instantly. Just having updates of someone's regular life instead of his chaotic one.

His fingers scissored your entrance, opening you. Curling expertly to hit the spongy inside of your g-spot. Your moans spurred him one, fingers digging in crescent marks on his wrist and he continued to scoop you out. The slick sounds made his cock spew out even more pre cum. You felt better than he ever imagined, he couldn't wait to sink his cock inside you. Your walls clenched around him, hands dragging him in further as you rose against them. Your head was buried in the pillows…he hoped your perfume lingered on them so he could rub his nose against them as he rubbed his cock later.

“Leon…please…”

Your breasts bounced as your chest heaved desperate breaths riding out the orgasm that was now shattering through you. He wished he propped up a phone somewhere, to record this moment for later use. To have this memory every single time. He didn't give you time to relax, to regain your breath. His cock splitting you open almost instantly. Leon almost felt bad, for what he did but wow did you feel it was worth it to capture that gasp with his lips. To force his tongue in your throat and taste you. He moved quickly, half of his cock not fitting inside of you unless he forced it deeper. The stretch turned from pain to pleasure. His hand hoisting your leg over his hip. Holding you open as he forced more of himself in. “Leon it's too big”

“You can take it…you’re being so good” he cooed, his lips attacking your neck sucking marks on the soft skin. You whimpered, moaned, begged all with a smile on your face. Loving the attention and praise he gave you as he forced more and more of his girth. His balls tapped your ass, you knew it was only time until they were slapping against the soft flesh of your ass hard the only sign you would get that he was fully sheathed inside of you. That was until you heard his swear. “Christ baby look at that” Leon smirked. His hand landing on your stomach, a small imprint of him forcing himself inside. He kept going, the sight turning him on. You were so perfect beneath him, so small…so cute.

His cock twitched and you felt it everywhere, you felt each drag of his veins as he moved. Your walls tightened enough around him. “Fuck…I need you to cum…please…baby you gotta”

Leon begging? He never thought he would be doing this, that a pussy so good would make him this weak. His thrusts became sloppy, his moans filling your ears. “Please…baby”

With his request you came, your cum dripping out allowing his movements to become more fluid. His cock sliding out, the tip caressing your cervix each time as he thought of nothing but filling you up with himself. Knowing that this pussy was ruined by him. He orgasmed with the idea that you would never be able to get as good as you did in this moment. That no you would never replace the feeling of his thrusts, that you would be left with no other choice than to come back to him. Beg to see him again until you are satisfied. “Fucking hell” he breathed against you, his larger frame hovering over yours. Your chuckle was sweet, matching how you tasted when you kissed him.

It was only a few days later when you hugged him at the airport, your legs ached. Hips clicking as you walked - not that you would give him the satisfaction of knowing that. “Until we meet again” Leon smiled down at you, his arms covering most of you. “Hopefully soon…don't want to leave me aching” you smiled. Leon could have melted right there, dragged you to the nearest bathroom and gave you one last good fuck but it would be better to wait. To see your sweet little notifications begging to see him again…to feel him again. So he smirked; a laugh following the action. “I'll make sure to take more jobs in this area”

His phone chimed when he got off the plane, your username putting an instant smile on his face with a text that reads

‘nothing feels the same…you've ruined me'

Taglist: @kasueli@luvrgreyy@michellekmsh@miss0giarra@cinnabunnysavvy@redollface@my-loved-figure-skates@luvlouiee@drawboo22@moth-quasar@nyxxoxo@crazy-b1tch

[curseofhecate]

MERRY CHRISTMAS, PLEASE DON'T CALL |LN4

an: This is obviously based on merry Christmas, palase don't call by the bleachers, which I have on repeat ever since it came out. Ik this is a bit depressing, but in a suckered for angst so you can't blame me. This is from the readers point for view.

w.c.: 1.3k

December 25th, Christmas.

Outside, the snow was falling softly, the glow of the streetlights casting a yellow glow over it. Her apartment was cold and dark and awfully quiet. Up until a few hours ago, the living room, the very room she was sitting in now, had been so warm, so full of life. 

This year it had been her turn to host the annual family Christmas gathering.The chaos of it had done a good job keeping her distracted. But her family had left hours ago. Normally, said gathering would drag on well into the evening, but this year her parents had left earlier, having flown over to London on Christmas Eve and with the excuse of needing to catch up with jet lag, while her sister and husband had left as soon as Nicole, her niece had started getting sleepy. 

That left her alone, in a messy apartment that suddenly seemed too warm, too bright, suffocating. It took another hour or so to clean up everything. And when everything was back to normal, she sat down on her couch in the living room, watching the snow fall outside with the lights off except for the lights on the christmas tree.

It is weird how fast time moves.

This time last year they were on their way back to his apartment from his parents house. He had taken her to meet this family, insisting that they would love her when she was nervously telling him they might think its too soon on the car ride there. And he was right. His family ended up loving her.

This time last year they were driving home, and when they’d get there, they would change into more comfortable clothes, her in hoodie that belonged to him which had a big 4 printed on the back which made Lando go crazy, and they'd settle down on the couch, covered in blankets and holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate each, while christmas movies played on the tv.

Two years ago today, she hadn’t even known he existed. Well, technically she did, since he was a famous formula 1 driver and all of that, but she’d never met him and she didn’t really care to do so. Two years ago right now, she would have been getting ready for that party her friends insisted she went to. 

That’s where she met him. A Christmas party, hosted by a friend of a friend. She wasn’t big on parties, she never had been. Normally she would sit back, maybe have a drink or two but never more and wait for the time to pass until it was acceptable to leave or until one of her friends decided to ditch. 

Lando was there with a girl, one he had been hooking up with at that fraction in time. And even though it wasn’t serious enough to turn into a relationship, they were friends above all and his plans had been cancelled last minute so he had decided to tag along. 

Now, Lando wasn’t really a loner, quite the contrary actually but he liked to befriend the people who were a bit more closed off. Besides, he had had a lot of practice getting to know his new teammate for next year and so, as soon as he was left alone, he walked up to the first person he judged as socially awkward. That was her.

And the rest was history. 

Two years later, whatever had started that night in December in a quiet corner of a party that neither of them should have really been there in the first place was long gone. Dead and buried under the pain that came with the conclusion that they couldn’t possibly work.

That’s the price that comes with being an F1 driver. And as much as they both would like to think that their relationship was full of happiness and love, the bad moments were nearly as much as the good ones. With him constantly gone and away for races and her too focused on her degree to be with him even when he wasn’t at the other side of the world made up for sure distraction. 

But maybe it was because he wasn’t ready for a relationship and the commitment that came with him or maybe it was because she was new at this and didn’t know how to let him know how she really felt. But most probably it was the fact that they couldn’t communicate their feelings with each other, mainly because they weren’t used to having to do so.

Whatever it was, the outcome was the same. Her sitting alone in a quiet apartment while he was away on a winter vacation, a ski trip somewhere in the french alps with a lot of his friends that had grown to be her friends too while they were still dating. 

She sighed, turning off her phone, not bearing to look at another of their friends' instagram story in which he was featured in. Lately she’d catch herself wondering how it would have been if they were still together. If they had fought for what they had instead of giving up once it all got too much.

She shouldn’t but on the nights she missed him a lot, she goes back and rereads their messages from when they were still dating. Sometimes she typed out paragraphs, asking him to talk or admitting that she never lost feelings and that she wants to try again, but she never sends them, because what would that do either way. 

They weren’t good for each other. They both knew that. He was struggling with his own problems and he couldn’t find a way to let her in, really let her in. And then it was the distance too. He wasn’t present enough, and even though that wasn’t his choice, it worked against them. They weren’t what the other needed, at least not at that moment in time.

Besides, he had moved on. It hadn’t even been a full month after their breakup before he was seen out with a well known model. And even though she knew better than to believe whatever the gossip pages claimed, the idea of him moving on so quickly still hurt.

Her phone dinged with a notification. She immediately reached for it, momentarily hoping that maybe he had reached out, but frowning as soon as she saw it was just a text from one of her friends who were spending the holidays away from London. 

For some reason a part of her wished that he would send her a message, saying merry christmas, maybe even asking her how’d she been. She knew it was wrong, and that it would only reopen old wounds but she couldn’t help but want a sign that he still thought about her from time to time, that he hadn’t forgotten him completely and that he still cared.

But even if he called, she didn’t know if she would be able to answer. He had put her through so much, not that he intended to, but it only proved that they weren’t right for each other.

It had been a hard decision to end things with lando. Because she loved him, she really did and she knew that he did too. But they weren’t what the other needed. In another timeline, under other circumstances they would have been perfect.

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to cry. She shook her head, getting up and making herself a cup of chamomile tea, before settling back down on the couch, this time wrapped in a blanket, and turned on the tv ad pressing play on Love Actually, laughing a bit as she thought about lando had called it a dumb movie when she forced him to watch it with her around this time last year.

 Eventually, she fell asleep right there on the couch, empty tea mug on the coffee table and with the movie playing in the background. She could almost feel the ghost of his arms around her, rubbing her back and murmuring sweet nothings into her ear as she fell asleep.

And just as the ending credits started to roll on the tv, her phone screen lit up with a notification of an unread message.

[feelbokkie]

L♡VE IN F♡CUS | Chapter 16

PAIRING: idol!Changbin x fem reader

WARNINGS: swearing, mention of food and eating

GENRE: smau, crack, angst, fluff

P♡V: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

SUMMARY: Amateur concert photographer Y/n has recently been promoted to junior music journalist. Her first assignment? An exposé on the popular Kpop boy group, Stray Kids. Spending an entire tour doing in depth interviews with eight men seems simple enough, but one member isn't exactly open to the idea. Will Y/n be able to break down the walls around his heart, or will her big break turn into a big disaster?

TAGLIST: open

W♡RD C♡UNT: 1,485

SCREENSH♡T C♡UNT: 21

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy first night of Hanukkah to all who celebrate! Happy Wednesday to everyone who doesn't! Here's a new chapter! (Or happy Thursday if it's the 26th for you)

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

©feelbokkie (2024) — all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated.

You double-check the draws of your desk, making sure you have everything think you’ll need for the second keg of the tour. Your top drawer is filled with snacks that you know Frankie and Wonseok will devour within a week-- if they even let it last that long. But the files you’ve kept on rookie groups and potential idols that you think may debut soon—debut in general— sit in a small box that you’re planning on dropping off at the group of desks that being to the junior writers in your department.

It’s something you should have done when you first got your promotion. You should have tried again before you left the first time, but a part of you thought you could still use the information you gathered over the years. But if the “My Summer a Stay” project with Stray Kids goes well, you’ll spend more time covering already established groups rather than rookies and survival show contestants.

“Getting ready to leave us again, huh?” Yoona, one of the reporters in your department asks as she walks up to your desk.

Saying she’s in your department is a stretch. She works in the entertainment department of the paper like you, Wonseok, and Frankie but she works in the gossip division. More specifically, she’s one of the few people the company hired to work specifically on scandals within the music industry. Calling her your archnemesis is a stretch but while you work to build up careers, she breaks them down. And for that, you dislike her strongly. You don’t even hide it. At least, not well.

“Yeah, the tour is starting up again.” Your voice is flat and even, trying to show as much disinterest in the conversation as you possibly can so she’ll leave you alone sooner.

“I envy you, Y/n.” She sits on the edge of your desk, trapping one of the folders you need to take with you but don’t want to get bent in your bag. “You’re just with these idols all of the time. I can only imagine what you must hear and see…”

That’s why she’s here…

You tilt your head to the side; your eyes widen almost with a childlike wonder. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” She chuckles softly as she leans in closer. “I took a sneak peek at your little secret project. You’re with them all the time. I’m sure you’ve overheard some conversations or even caught a glimpse of what’s on their phones.”

She’s fishing. If it’s for something specific, you’re not sure. You try not to follow scandals too closely. Most of them don’t concern you and are ridiculous. You do know it’s been generally quiet. Not many dating rumors or other false claims have made their rounds on the internet for a while. Anything else would be real news and would require Yoona and the other “reporters” in her division to do actual work before publishing. And you refuse to make their simple jobs easier for them.

“Ah, I…I’m having trouble understanding. Sorry, my Korean is not good…” You do your best to butcher the pronunciation and speak broken Korean, which is harder now after years of speaking it primarily.

Yoona’s eyes narrow as she sits up straighter. “That’s not cute, Y/n.”

“Pardon?” You tilt your head to the other side.

Yoona’s mouth opens and closes before she lets out a little annoyed huff of air. “You’ve been here for half a decade and you write full articles in Korean. Don’t try to act like you don’t know what I’m asking.”

“This is a bit embarrassing but…I use Google Translate to write my articles. I write in English and translate. Please don’t say anything.”

Yoona crosses her arms across her chest, her eyes scan every part of your face. You close your bag and sit back in your chair, trying to not give her the satisfaction that she so desperately craves. Suddenly, the corners of her mouth turn up into a smile that would make the Cheshire cat envious. Her eyes light up, almost like a light bulb went off in her head.

“You do know something, don’t you?”

Oh lovely, she’s delusional.

You look around the office, most of the office is empty with nearly everyone gone for lunch. Still, there are a few people who are working through lunch. Luckily for you, you moved into the main offices right before you left for the first leg of the tour so not many people know you that well. Unluckily for your desk mate, he happens to be working through lunch.

"Um...excuse me? I'm having trouble understanding what she's saying. Can you help?" You bother your desk mate. He looks up from his laptop, completely confused and partially startled by the sudden interaction. You're not sure what he was so focused on but part of you feels bad.

"Uh--"

"Forget it," Yoona waves him off, no longer wanting to participate in your little charade. "Y/n, I know you're hiding something. There's no way you don't know anything. Stop faking,"

"But eonni--"

Buzz, buzz

Your eyes glance over to your phone sitting face up right next to your keyboard. You don't miss the fact that Yoona's eyes also land on your phone. Part of you freezes when you see the word "Eonni" light up on your screen. You quickly snatch your phone and send the call to voicemail as the list of things your sister needs now floods your brain.

"You have your sister in your phone as "eonni?" How curious..." Yoona suggests. You can see the gears turning right through her pupils, working out her next story.

"Whatever convoluted story you're coming up with, scrap it right now." You say firmly.

Buzz, buzz

You let out a swear under your breath as you send your sister to voicemail again, really not wanting to deal with whatever family drama is currently going on.

What time is it over there anyway? Early morning? Late night? Afternoon?

"I'm not doing anything. Is there a story there?" She feigns innocence by tilting her head and speaking in a low, condescending tone.

"I'm serious," You stand up and gather all of your things, yanking the file from under Yoona.

Buzz, buzz

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Yoona smirks. She hops off your desk and starts walking towards the door. "Don't worry, I'll leave you to talk to your "eonni.""

"It's not like..." Your voice dies in your throat as she continues to walk out.

You let out a long, exhausted sigh like a balloon deflating. Your attention is brought back to your phone as it continues to ring in your hand. Pressure builds behind your eyes as you think about what could be so urgent right now. You say a silent prayer to-- whoever will answer at this point--and answer the phone.

"What could you possibly need right now?" Mindful of all of your coworkers still in the office, you try your best not to scream. Still, your tone is harsher than you intended.

"Wow, you send the girl to the other side of the world and she thinks she's so important. She doesn't even answer the phone anymore and yet when she does, she has the audacity to be bitchy. I'm so sorry Your Highness," Your sister scoffs on the other end.

You bite the inside of your cheek, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to stop yourself from saying something that will start an argument. It's the last thing you need today. On top of making sure you have everything you need from work, you've been pulling all-nighters the past couple of weeks you've been home trying to fix what your team failed to understand from your emails and Zoom meetings. You're already dreading how much more work you're going to have to deal with when you get back from this leg of the tour now that there's going to be a large time difference between you and them.

"I'm sorry, I'm at work right now." Balancing your phone between your ear and your shoulder, you do your best to secure your things in your arms as you head over to the elevator.

You press the down button with your foot, miraculously without dropping anything or toppling over, and wait for the elevator to reach your floor.

"Yeah, yeah, I know all about your fancy job all the way in Korea. Jesus, you don't have to brag."

Ding!

You walk into the elevator and press the button for the floor below you where all of the interns and lower-level reporters in your department work. Most of them are probably all out right now so you'll just leave the box of your notes on your old advisor's desk and send her a text.

"I'm about to leave for a meeting. What did you need?" You lie.

"It's about mom,"

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

TAG LIST (closed)

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

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[lenny-link]

made a lil engiespy fic as a continuation of the sniperscout comic and basically the 7th comic too, hope you enjoy :>

——————————————————————-

The war was long over. All the mercenaries had returned to normal, peaceful lives they had almost forgotten. They were older now, lines drawn on their faces, but the bond created in the heart of battle remained. Tonight, they were all here, gathered at Jeremy’s for Christmas.

Jeremy’s house was filled with the chaotic energy of his children, the laughter of his old teammates, the smell of pine tree and smokey turkey that was a far contrast to the gunpowder and battlefields that had infested their lives for so long.

Christmas candlelights shined, reflecting Spy’s surprisingly softened gaze. He watched the children, the miniature versions of Scout, running around, their laughter a sound he hadn’t realized he have been missing.

 

Surrounded by the energetic children who were unknowingly his own grandchildren, felt a pang of longing. He kept his relation a secret from Jeremy, a part of his past he had buried deep a long time ago. The children, however, had jumped into his carefully constructed walls with ease, their innocent affection had created a desire he thought he had long forgotten: the desire for a family.

 

As the night went on, each ex-mercenary made their goodbyes and took their leave. Dell stayed finding himself cleaning up the dinning table spontaneously while Jeremy had slipped away with Mick to his bedroom, leaving Spy to manage the energetic youngsters. He didn’t mind. He found himself surprisingly content telling stories and playing charades with the kids, a different warmth bloomed within him with every giggle.

 

Eventually, the children fell asleep, their small forms tucked into their respective beds. The house fell silent. Engineer and Spy were the only ones left, cleaning up the rests of the festive party.

 

As Spy dried and stacked the plates, he felt a wave of melancholy washing over him. He yearned to stay, to be a part of this family, his family too, but the secret he held kept him from getting this chance.

Dell, being the smartest of the bunch, had noticed the change in Spy’s attitude, from his usual cold, rude persona in battlefield to his new softer fatherly side. He saw him, he understood the unspoken conflict within the Frenchman.

At some point, in their old absurd lifestyle, they had become close, two strategics, two intellectuals, they understood each others with just a glance, despite the counterintuitive nature of their classes, they felt like two side of the same coin, they matched each other’s minds, they knew they belonged together.

 

“They’re good kids,” Dell stated softly, breaking the silence. “Reminds me of… well, reminds me of simpler times.”

 

Spy offered a small, sad smile. “Indeed.”

 

Dell paused, then spoke with a quiet sincerity. “Y’know, my place ain’t far from here. It gets… lonely. I’ve got plenty of room” He looked at Spy who had his gaze still on the plates but had stopped drying them.

“You’re welcome to stay there. As long as you like. It would… it would be nice to have some company." he hesitated slightly "Y-you’d be closer to the kids too"

 

Spy’s eyes widened slightly, surprised with a flicker of hope shining in him. Living with Dell, close to Jeremy and his grandchildren… it felt like a new chance for him to have the warmth of a family he long loved, it was more than he could have wish for this Christmas.

“Dell…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with emotion, he puts the plate down.

 

Dell, sensing the unspoken emotions of Spy, stepped closer, placing carefully both his hand on each of Spy’s shoulders, turning him around to face him. “We’ve been through a lot together, me and you, through thick and thin, and well, we’re not getting any younger" he laughed slightly "I’d love to spend the rest of my days with you Spy, and Jeremy and the kids" he gets even closer "Come, live with me" he slowly slides his hands down Spy’s arms now holding his hands "Only if you want this too"

 

Spy was speechless, his eyes widened as he looked straight at Dell’s eyes, not able to muster any word. He wants nothing more than this, having a family once again, how ideal could it be.

As they stood there, a small shiny light caught their attentions. Above them, hanging from the kitchen doorframe, was a branche of a mistletoe.

Time seemed to stop as they exchanged a silent, meaningful look, years of unspoken understanding passing between them.

 

Slowly, hesitantly, they leaned in. Their lips met in a tender, gentle kiss. Spy cupped Dell’s face deepening the kiss, his brows met in a focused expression, he needed this. Dell on the other end, had pressed his hands on Spy’s lower back, pressing their bodies against the other, his heart beating like a drum frantically in his chest, he wanted this.

It was a kiss of shared history, of unspoken longing. It wasn’t their first, but felt entirely new.

Moments later they broke the kiss, they stared at the other’s tender eyes, a silent promise of partnership in the years to come. The chaos of the day has faded away, leaving only the quiet intimacy of two men who had finally found their way home, to each others.

[olvxva]

unspoken flames pt. II | joost klein x f!reader

part I

✦ wc: 3.2 k

✦ warnings: rpf!, angst, crying, nudity but nothing really descriptive, two fools finally sorting their shit out

✦ an: i had to use my inspiration and free time, so i guess it went pretty quickly lmao, enjoy <3

that night, when Joost closed the door to your apartment behind him, something inside you broke. maybe it was your heart, or maybe it was just your inner self that was torn in half after the blonde took a part of you with him, a part you couldn’t get back. that night, you didn’t sleep a wink. not the next night, nor the one after that.

the quiet sobs were the only thing that could be heard from your lips, as if all the pain you had been holding in finally found its release. the tears, which seemed endless, were only an attempt at relief that never came. you felt empty, alone, and yet, as if you had no right to feel this way, as if you were deceiving yourself.

Joost didn’t say a word. days passed and you sat in your silence, which was like an endless abyss. somewhere deep in your soul, you held a quiet hope that maybe he had changed his mind, that he regretted it. naively, you waited for even a single message, a single word. just one sign that you weren’t alone in this. but nothing came. the phone stayed silent and Joost seemed to have vanished.

it was pure torture. every corner of your apartment reminded you of your shared moments, as if every object, every detail, was a witness to your presence. no matter where you looked, in your mind’s eye, you only saw him - his smile, his gaze, his touch. in every silence, his laugh echoed, in every corner of the apartment, you still felt the warmth of his presence.

your thoughts kept returning to him, even though you tried to push them away. you kept searching for him, though you knew he wasn’t around anymore. every attempt to forget became harder, and with each moment you gazed at the empty spot where he used to be, your heart broke even more.

sitting curled up on the windowsill in the living room, you watched the crowded street outside. the world beyond the glass seemed to live to its own rhythm, completely oblivious to the storm inside you. people walked past each other, talking, laughing, but you felt completely disconnected from all of it.

five weeks had passed since that fateful night. five weeks with no contact. it hurt a little less now, but it still hurt too much. you still felt like you were standing still, stuck in a deadlock where each day was just a reflection of the one before.

the world moved forward as if nothing had happened, while you remained in place, trying to accept that nothing would ever be the same. from the flood of thoughts that once again began to gather above you like dark clouds, you were pulled by the sound of an incoming notification. before you could react, your heart skipped a beat. you reached for your phone nearby and tapped the notification that had popped up. as you saw the message, your heart instantly sank in your chest.

Joost: we need to talk.

one short sentence that in that moment turned your world upside down. you immediately felt a wave of emotions crash over you - fear, anger, sadness, and maybe even hope, though you weren't sure if you should trust it.

you flipped your phone in your hands, feeling the weight of the decision that now stood before you. your mind was swirling with conflicting thoughts. you knew you couldn’t ignore him. after everything, after he’d kept you in uncertainty for so long, you couldn’t just leave this without an explanation.

why now? why so suddenly? those were the questions you couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer to. so much had changed in the weeks that had passed, and though you tried to keep your emotions in check, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside you had died. maybe it was the end, maybe not, but what had happened would stay with you forever.

could "what was meant to be" still exist after all of this? you took a deep breath, closing your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts. you felt the unease in your body growing, as if waiting for something that couldn’t be stopped anymore.

me: where and when?

sending the message took you barely a second, but it felt like time slowed down in your head. the phone stayed in your hand, and you stared at the screen, waiting for a reply. each second dragged on endlessly, as if the world was deliberately holding its breath, playing with your patience. after a moment, the screen lit up with a notification, and you quickly read the message.

Joost: my place in an hour, i’ll be waiting.

the words were simple, almost devoid of emotion. you stared at the text, analyzing it as if your life depended on it. i'll be waiting. those words echoed in your mind.

without further hesitation, you stood up and decided to prepare. your movements were automatic, almost mechanical, as if your body had taken control of your mind. you opened the closet and began sifting through your clothes, trying to pick something appropriate - something that wouldn’t betray the chaos inside you but also wouldn’t look too indifferent. every little detail, every decision seemed bigger than it really was.

you were afraid of this meeting. part of you - the hurt and disappointed part - would have preferred Joost to remain a memory, distant and unreal. but there was also the other part, the more stubborn and emotional one, still yearning for his voice, for the way he looked at you, as if he saw something in you that you couldn’t see yourself. it was that part of you that pushed you forward, forcing you to grab a jacket from the closet and reach for the keys.

the walk to his apartment passed unusually quickly, almost too quickly, as if time was mocking you, shortening every second you could have used to gather your thoughts. the cold evening air wrapping around you didn’t help much either. your hands were damp with nerves, and your heart was pounding so loudly that you feared someone on the street might hear it.

you tried to organize your thoughts, the words you wanted to say, but instead, your mind kept circling around what could have happened.

before you knew it, you were already standing in front of his door. you stared at the gleaming number 12 hanging on the door, one you’d seen so many times before. you felt your hands tremble slightly, and your chest rose unevenly with every difficult breath. you slowly raised your hand, ready to knock. a thousand thoughts raced through your mind - what if he wasn’t alone? what if this meeting ended in even more pain?

finally, your knuckles met the wood, making a soft, almost shy sound. for a moment, the silence seemed to stretch on endlessly before you heard footsteps approaching from inside. your heart rose to your throat.

the door opened hesitantly. and then you saw him. he stood there, dressed in simple gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. his messy hair seemed to stick up in every direction. his face looked tired, and his eyes held a shadow you hadn’t seen before. he looked the same, yet somehow, he seemed like a completely different person standing before you.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. you stared at each other, and the air between you was so thick, you almost felt like you could touch it. you didn’t know what to say. every word you’d prepared in your mind had suddenly evaporated.

“hey” he said finally, his voice quiet, barely audible.

“hi” you replied just as softly, feeling your mind suddenly abandon you.

his gaze drifted across your face, as if trying to read what was going on in your head. for a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something, but for some reason, he remained silent, stepping back to give you room to enter.

“will you come in?” he asked, finally making a step back to let you inside.

without a word, you timidly stepped through the threshold, your movements slow and cautious, as if walking on thin ice. under the watchful gaze of the blonde, you took off your shoes, trying to control the trembling of your hands that started to betray you. you hung your coat on the hook, making an effort to avoid his gaze, which seemed to pierce right through you.

the atmosphere between you was strange, uncertain. the silence that settled was almost palpable and you had the feeling that every word or movement of yours could break it in the worst possible way.

when Joost moved toward the kitchen, you turned to him and almost instinctively followed. entering the room, you noticed how the blonde leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. he looked thoughtful, yet tense, as if he didn't know what to do next.

"anything to drink?" he suddenly asked, his voice cutting through the silence, but it sounded surprisingly calm, even though you could still see the shadow of uncertainty in his eyes.

"no, thank you, i'm not in the mood" you replied politely, trying to sound neutral "i don't want to impose."

Joost looked at you, and in his eyes, you could see a mix of disappointment. he fell silent for a moment, as if weighing every word he might say. his hands slowly dropped to the counter, and his breath became deeper, as if preparing himself for something important.

"y/n, you know you don't have to feel like that… you don't have to be afraid of imposing" he finally answered, his voice softer than before.

"Joost, you know, sometimes what you say is easier than what i feel" you replied, your voice trembling in your mouth. you looked him in the eyes, but you couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a moment.

the man slowly began to approach you, until your chests were separated by only millimeters. his hand gently caressed your cheek.

you could feel your whole body tense in that moment, as if Joost's approaching touch had the power to break everything. his presence had something that still drew you in, something that made it impossible for you to pull away.

"y/n…" his voice was barely audible, as if he was trying to find the right words "i… i didn't know what to do. i'm sorry. i'm sorry for everything i've done and for what i haven't done. for hurting you. for leaving you when you needed me the most. i know it's not enough, i know it can't fix what happened, but…"

he paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. in your mind, there was emptiness, as if each word he spoke was some kind of spell that took away your ability to think clearly.

"i don't know how to fix what i broke, but i promise you one thing – you won't have to go through this alone. i want to be with you, y/n. i'll do anything to fix this, if you'll just let me. if you’ll let me back in."

you found yourself at a standstill. part of you wanted to throw yourself into his arms, to feel like everything was returning to normal, but the other part still feared trusting him again, afraid that you’d be hurt once more.

"Joost, you left me" you began, feeling a surge of sudden sorrow and anger rising within you "you fucking left me!"

Joost stood frozen, his hand slowly dropping from your cheek as if every syllable of your words was a blow that pierced straight into his heart. his lips pressed into a thin line of helplessness.

"i never wanted to leave you" he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions "i never wanted to hurt you. i just… i just needed to find a way to understand what was happening. you know how much you mean to me…" he paused, as if unable to finish, as though every word he spoke felt too small to carry the weight of what he truly felt.

"mean something to you?!" you shouted directly into his face, unable to keep your emotions in check any longer "if i meant anything to you, you wouldn’t have left me hanging for five fucking weeks without a single word!" you stopped, feeling your heart break all over again "you just disappeared, like we were nothing… like i was nothing."

Joost clenched his fists, his eyes filled with turmoil, never leaving yours. his face inched dangerously close to yours, but you knew you couldn’t let yourself falter. with a swift motion, you stormed toward the door, desperate to escape the pointless torment of this confrontation.

before you could reach the handle, he moved in an instant, his body blocking the exit as he positioned himself in front of the door.

"i won’t let you run away" he said, his voice trembling "you’re not going to make the same mistake i did."

you looked at him, feeling anger and pain begin to mix with something else - maybe fear, maybe the desire to understand what really happened. but you couldn’t give him that satisfaction. not now.

“Joost, move the hell out of the way!”

his eyes narrowed, as if the words you spoke were a blow that landed straight in his chest. he stood there for a moment, analyzing you, and you felt a wave of frustration building inside you.

“y/n, stop” he said quietly, but his voice carried something that sounded like desperation “i won’t let you leave, not without talking. we need to sort this out.”

“just move!” you shouted, unable to contain your emotions. you shut your eyes, trying to calm the rising ache in your chest.

“stay, i’m begging you…” his voice broke suddenly.

Joost grabbed you by the waist, and you felt his body suddenly sink down in front of you.

you stood there, staring at him, feeling his hands tighten around your hips. his breathing was quick, uneven, and his eyes, filled with boundless desperation, looked at you as if pleading for forgiveness, for something he couldn’t find within himself.

you felt as though the entire world had stopped around you. you stood frozen, uncertain and disoriented, with Joost kneeling before you, his face buried against your waist like he was seeking refuge. you held your breath, afraid he might vanish in an instant. your hands reached for his chin, forcing him to look at you.

“Joost…” you whispered his name, barely audible, feeling your hand tremble “what happened to us?”

you knelt beside him, feeling your heart pounding harder and your entire body shaking with emotion. without words, without thinking, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling his body close to yours. you wanted to feel him, to close the distance, even though every part of you screamed to run away. his warmth seeped through your arms.

he pulled you closer and your heart nearly stopped when you felt his body shaking in your embrace. then, in the quiet space around you, came a muffled sob, stifled against your chest. it was a sound that filled your mind, shaking you in a way you hadn’t expected.

you felt his body reacting to the pain he must have carried for weeks, as every tear fell down his cheeks, despite his attempts to hide them. you heard that sound, a raw reminder of how deeply hurt both of you were.

Joost finally lifted his tear-streaked face, and something inside you broke again that night. you knew that pain, you knew that emptiness, but seeing him like this now, seeing his face covered in tears, made you feel like something was shifting. maybe, despite all the hurt you’d both endured, there was still a chance to fix this.

“i love you” you heard his gentle voice, and for a moment, your heart stopped beating “i’m an idiot for realizing it so late.”

those words hit you like a wave, flooding you with a relief. you felt the weight of the weeks filled with silence and misunderstandings suddenly lift off your shoulders. you couldn’t stop the tears that began streaming down your cheeks.

“why didn’t you say it earlier?” you managed to whisper, your voice barely holding steady.

“i was scared, y/n” he said, his gaze locking onto yours “i was scared i wasn’t the one you were looking for. i felt like i didn’t deserve to be the one to make you happy” his voice trembled “and then everything got complicated… and i pulled away because I was afraid my feelings might hurt you. and you know what’s the worst part? that all this time, instead of fighting, i just let my fear control me. and now i see that was the dumbest mistake of my life.”

instead of searching for a meaningful answer, you simply leaned in and pressed your lips to his. Joost froze for a moment, feeling the delicate connection as your lips met. despite all the words he had spoken just moments before, this was what you both had longed for. the kiss was filled with unease, but also relief.

when you pulled away, you stared at each other in silence, as though both of you were trying to comprehend what had just happened. Joost gazed into your eyes, then took a deep breath.

“thank you for doing that” he whispered, though it wasn’t clear if he meant the kiss or the fact that you had let him back into your world.

you didn’t reply. instead, you rested gently against him, as if trying to convey everything you felt without words. just silence and closeness - expressing more than any explanation could.

“how about a shower together?” you asked after a moment, feeling the need to wash away the weight of all the emotions you had been through.

Joost looked at you, surprised, but there was something in his eyes that revealed the suggestion wasn’t strange at all. it was exactly what you both needed.

“sounds perfect” he said quietly, his voice still trembling slightly as if he couldn’t quite believe you were here, together, after everything.

he stood up, extending a hand to help you. Joost’s grip was warm and steady as he guided you to your feet. when you both stepped into the bathroom, the soft light reflected off the gleaming tiles, creating an atmosphere of calm. he closed the door behind you, and the silence that followed was different from before. it wasn’t the heavy, tension-filled quiet - it was something that gave you both space to simply be together, to be yourselves.

without a word, he moved to the shower, adjusting the water to just the right temperature. every motion he made was careful, almost reverent, as if he was trying to understand what you were feeling without rushing you. at last, he turned to you with a gentle smile.

“do you want me to help you?” he asked softly, his tone patient and unpressuring, as though he understood that you needed to go at your own pace.

“yes, please…” you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, as you felt your heart slowly settling back into its normal rhythm.

it was a moment where you could let go, where you didn’t have to think about everything that had happened before. just about the now - him, you, and what you had in this present moment. Joost moved with deliberate tenderness as he began to lift your shirt over your head. finally, his warm hands traveled to the button of your jeans, and you felt your breath catch in your throat.

“it’s just me” his voice carried a soothing calm, grounding you in a way that reminded you you could trust him.

a moment later, you stood before him in nothing but your underwear, which soon joined the rest of your clothes on the floor. joost’s eyes roamed over you, filled with tenderness that made your breath hitch.

“please, don’t make me stand here naked by myself” you said with a small, playful smile.

Joost chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, before starting to shed his own clothes. you watched him with curiosity, your gaze tracing the lines of his body. when he noticed your eyes on him, he paused momentarily, a faint hint of bashfulness flashing across his face before he offered you a soft smile. his body was marked with tattoos, each one telling a story, each one a piece of the man he was. you loved that about him - the way his tattoos painted a vivid picture of someone unapologetically himself.

without a word, he stepped closer, his hands finding their place on your hips. his touch was warm, steady. the sound of the water streaming from the shower filled the room, but it felt distant, merely a backdrop to the moment. every touch, every movement, was careful, infused with intimacy, as though the entire world had melted away, leaving only the two of you.

you stood face to face now, completely vulnerable, with no barriers between you. as you stepped into the shower together, the warm water immediately washed over your bodies, creating a small, intimate space where there was no need for words or explanations.

Joost positioned himself behind you, and you felt his hand gently glide across your shoulders, as if he wanted to shield you from the world. you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the water and his touch calm your nerves. all the weight you'd been carrying for the past weeks slowly began to melt away. you felt his hands move across your body, massaging it, each movement lifting away the remnants of fear and pain.

“you don’t have to say anything” he whispered, pulling you closer, so you could feel his breath on your neck “i’m here, really.”

in that moment, you needed nothing more. just the warm water, the silence you shared, and the feeling that, despite everything, you had both found your way back to each other.

"i just wanna say one thing" you started, resting your head on his chest "i love you in a way that's hard to put into words."

[leeknot]

Under the Mistletoe

A/N : Happy Christmas!!!!

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Summarry : A mistletoe prank at a holiday gathering forces two long-time friends to kiss in front of everyone. Embarassed, they leave the party, but the spark from that kiss leads them into a night they'll never forget.

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Pairing : Changbin × reader

Warnings : smut,car sex

---

MDNI

Changbin and you had been inseparable since childhood, your bond unbreakable through the years—until tonight. As you mingled at the crowded holiday party, a mischievous giggle caught your ear.

"Look what I found!" Hyunjin's voice rang out across the room, holding up a perfectly formed sprig of mistletoe. Changbin's eyes flickered towards you almost nervously, remembering all the times they'd teasingly referenced the old tradition.

Before either of you could react, Hyunjin playfully dangled the mistletoe above your heads, grinning wildly. "Kiss, kiss!" he chanted, gathering a chorus of encouragement from the amused crowd.

Your hearts pounded in unison as you faced each other, the weight of the moment heavy. Changbin's gaze dropped to your lips, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

In a swift, almost desperate motion, Changbin closed the gap between you, his cool hands cupping your face. His lips met yours - a gentle brush at first, then deepening as the cheers around you faded into white noise.

As you pulled away, breathless, Changbin's eyes searched yours, wide and uncertain. The room erupted into applause and laughter, but you barely noticed, trapped in the bubble of that unexpected kiss.

Without a word, Changbin grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the noisy party, leaving behind the curious stares and unanswered questions. His car awaited outside, purring softly in the cold night.

Once inside the car, the tension between you and Changbin crackled like the chill in the air. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white as he took deep breaths.

Finally, Changbin spoke, his voice low and husky. "I can't believe I just kissed you," he murmured, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. "But I can't stop thinking about it." He glanced at you sidelong, his eyes burning with an unspoken hunger.

Your heart raced as you met Changbin's intense gaze, the memory of that kiss still lingering on your lips. "I've been thinking about it too," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But what does it mean? We're friends, right?"

Changbin's grip tightened on the steering wheel as he considered your words, the engine's steady hum filling the tense silence. "Friends... yeah, we are," he said slowly, "but maybe that's not enough anymore." He took a shaky breath, glancing your way with a conflicted frown.

As Changbin's words hung in the air, you felt a spark of hope ignite within you. Could it be possible that your friendship was evolving into something more? Before you could ponder it further, Changbin pulled into a secluded parking lot, the only sound the soft crunch of gravel beneath the tires.

The car's interior was suddenly too warm, too small, as Changbin turned to face you fully. His eyes reflected the dim light of a distant streetlamp, intense and vulnerable all at once. "Y/N..." he whispered, your name on his lips sounding like a question, a plea.

Your throat tightened at the way Changbin said your name, filled with such raw emotion and barely restrained desire. Unable to form words, you leaned in instinctively, erasing the distance between you. When your lips met in a tender, exploratory kiss, any doubts or questions evaporated like mist.

The kiss deepened, becoming a desperate, hungry dance of tongues and breaths. Changbin's arms wrapped around you, holding you close as if he'd never let you go. The world outside the car faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the overwhelming feeling of finally being together.

As Changbin's hands roamed over your back and sides, pulling you onto his lap, you could feel the hardness beneath his clothes pressing against you. He broke the kiss to trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Changbin..." you gasped, tilting your head to give him better access. His name on your lips seemed to snap something inside him. With a growl, he lifted you effortlessly, laying you back on the car's small rear seat.

His body hovering over yours, Changbin paused, his darkened eyes searching yours. A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Still just friends?" he murmured teasingly before capturing your lips again, his touch turning more daring, wandering lower with each caress.

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingers traced the curve of your waist, inching upwards beneath your shirt. You wrapped your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. "Friends..." you gasped between kisses, "don't usually..."

"Do this?" Changbin whispered, his fingers splaying out over your midriff and slowly sliding upward. He nuzzled your neck, his breath warm against your pulse. "Or this?" He hooked his fingers under the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it up to reveal your stomach.

Your cheeks flushed as he bared your skin, a shiver running down your spine at the exposure and his gentle touch. You lifted your arms, helping him remove your shirt completely. The cool air of the car hit your skin, but the heat in his gaze soon chased away the chill. "Definitely not."

He murmured, his calloused fingers trailing along your ribcage and then splaying out over your stomach again. He looked up at you through his dark lashes, his expression serious. "Friends don't look at each other like this, either," he whispered, his gaze dropping lower.

His eyes roamed over your midsection, taking in the smooth skin of your stomach and the hint of your waist. He swore he could feel the heat radiating off your skin, drawing him in. He unbuckled his belt, giving himself more room to maneuver between your legs.

He leaned down, pressing a trail of kisses along your stomach and hips, his hands slowly unbuttoning your jeans. His touch was gentle but firm, leaving no doubt about his intentions. The car filled with the sounds of your ragged breaths and the soft rustling of fabric as he slowly peeled away your clothing.

He paused, his face hovering just above the edge of your jeans. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and intense. Without a word, he slowly pulled down your jeans and underwear, baring you completely to his gaze.

He swallowed hard, taking in the sight of you. He spread your legs wider, stepping between them. He could feel the heat of your skin against his own, the thin fabric of his boxers doing little to hide his growing interest. He hooked his arms under your thighs, pulling you closer.

"Fuck," he breathed, his face inches from your core. He could smell your arousal, sweet and intoxicating. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh. His hands tightened on your legs as he fought the urge to devour you right then and there.

He teased along your thigh with maddeningly light kisses, purposely avoiding your most sensitive spots. His hot breath ghosted over your skin, sending shivers up your spine. With deliberate slowness, he licked a teasing stripe along your folds, barely grazing your clit.

"You're so wet." he murmurs against your skin, his tongue circling your clit this time with purpose. His hands grip your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he explores every inch of you with his mouth.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub as he eats you out. His fingers dig into your thighs, his arms trembling with the effort of keeping you pinned in place. The sound of his hungry mouth and your desperate whimpering fills the car.

Just as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls away, leaving you shaking and needy. He stands up, his face flushed and his boxers soaked through with his arousal. He quickly sheds his clothes, revealing his hard, throbbing cock.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll feel me for days," he promises darkly, grabbing your hips and pulling you to the edge of the seat.

He slams into you without warning, burying his cock deep inside your dripping pussy. The car shakes as he starts pounding into you, his balls slapping against your ass with each brutal thrust. He reaches between your legs, rubbing your clit in time with his rough fucking.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as he hits a spot deep inside you that makes your eyes roll back. "Yes, just like that." you pant, meeting his every thrust. The sound of wet skin slapping together and your desperate moans fill the car as he drives you closer to the edge again.

He wraps his arms around your thighs, lifting you higher onto his lap as he continues to pound into you. His face contorts with raw passion as he stares into your eyes, his hips bucking wildly. "You like that?" he growls, his voice hoarse.

"Fuck yes." you gasp out, your pussy clenching around his throbbing cock. "Don't stop, please don't stop!" Your breasts bounce with each vigorous thrust, nipples hard and aching.

"Not stopping until you come all over my cock," he grunts, driving into you with complete abandon. One hand pinches your nipple while the other continues to circle your sensitive clit. "Come for me, baby. Let me feel you milk my cock with that tight little pussy."

The combination of his filthy words and relentless fucking pushes you over the edge. Your whole body convulses as a powerful orgasm rips through you, your inner walls pulsing around his cock. He lets out a deep, satisfying groan, his hot seed spilling into you one throbbing burst after another.

You milk every last drop from him as he empties himself inside you, both of you shuddering with the intensity. Panting heavily, he leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he savors the aftershocks of your explosive lovemaking.

You glance down, seeing the sticky mess coating your thighs. "Fuck, look at us," you agree, laughing breathlessly. He carefully sets you back onto the seat, his softening cock slipping from your soaked pussy with a wet pop.

He reaches for the wipes in the glove compartment and gently cleans you up, his fingers tender as he wipes away the evidence of your passionate encounter. Once you're clean, he tucks you back into your clothes, making sure you're presentable before pulling back onto the road.

As he drives, he reaches over and squeezes your thigh, a playful smirk on his face. "Just thinking about round two when we get home." he teases with a wink.

after you got home

The room is dark, the only light coming from the digital clock on the nightstand. Changbin's voice is low and raspy as he speaks into the darkness. "I'm glad we're not just friends anymore."

He nuzzles his face against your neck, his arms tightening around you possessively. "I like this better," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "Being your boyfriend, not just your best friend..."

He falls silent, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your stomach as he holds you close. He can feel contentment washing over him, a feeling he'd never experienced as strongly when you were just friends. He nuzzles your neck again, inhaling your scent deeply. "Much better..."

"I never knew holding you like this would feel so... right. Like you were made to fit against me." His voice is soft and intimate in the darkness, his breath warm against your neck. "Goodnight, my girlfriend."

You sigh contentedly, feeling Changbin's warmth and the comfort of his arms around you. You wrap your own arms around him, holding him close. "Goodnight, Changbin." you whisper, nuzzling your head against his chest.

---

[kathlare]

homecoming serenity

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie returns to London after a hectic travel experience and is welcomed by Lando, who greets her with a thoughtful gesture.

Wordcount: 1.5 k

Warnings: just fluff

December 23rd, 2024 - London, United Kingdom

It had been a long, exhausting day for Amelie. The chaos of the holiday travel season had hit her jet harder than expected, and delays had piled up on top of the already hectic schedule. She could barely keep her eyes open as she sat in the private lounge, looking over at her team, who were equally tired from the trip. The flight from New York to London had been pushed back twice due to the overload of air traffic, and now she was staring at the clock, knowing she wouldn’t be getting into London until 2 a.m.

But none of it mattered anymore. Not when she knew that Lando would be waiting for her, the one constant she could rely on. It had been almost a week since she saw him, and though they'd been texting and calling, nothing compared to being in his arms.

As soon as her plane touched down, Amelie was quick to gather her things, the anticipation making her heart race. She had missed him more than she had been willing to admit, even to herself. With her team in tow, she stepped off the jet, the crisp London air biting at her skin, but she hardly noticed. All she could think about was the warm, familiar presence waiting for her.

The moment she stepped into the arrivals hall, she saw him. He was there, just like always, leaning against the wall with a bunch of bright yellow tulips in his hand. She had mentioned once, long ago, that yellow tulips were her favorite, and he never forgot. The sight of him sent a wave of relief and warmth over her.

—Lan,— she breathed, a smile spreading across her face as she jogged toward him, her heart doing an erratic dance in her chest.

—Ames,— he said, a grin forming as he straightened up, the flowers in his hand now reaching out toward her. —For you, love.—

Amelie took the bouquet from him, bringing the flowers to her nose as she inhaled deeply. She felt her entire body relax, the exhaustion of travel slipping away.

—You’re perfect,— she murmured, her eyes locking with his.

Lando chuckled softly. —You look wrecked.—

—You think so?— she teased back, raising an eyebrow. —I feel wrecked.—

He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering. —I’m just glad you’re finally here.—

—Me too,— she said softly, leaning into his touch for a moment, closing her eyes as she let herself enjoy the moment.

They spent a few more minutes exchanging soft words, catching up as if they hadn’t just spoken hours ago. But the rush of seeing each other after so many days apart left them both feeling like time had stood still.

Lando led her to the car, and they made their way to his place. The ride was comfortable, but the silence between them wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of silence they shared when they were content in each other’s presence.

Once they arrived, Lando opened the door to his flat and flipped the light on, his voice filled with warmth. —Home sweet home.—

Amelie let out a content sigh, her feet aching from the long flight. —Finally.—

Lando closed the door behind them and dropped his bag by the entryway before turning to face her. His eyes softened as they took in the sight of Amelie—tired, yet somehow glowing, even after all the travel chaos. The look he gave her made her heart flutter, like it had when they first became friends, and later, when they started dating. That deep connection still held them tightly, even after everything.

—You hungry?— Lando asked, his voice a little softer than usual. —I could whip something up, make you feel more at home.—

Amelie shook her head, too tired to even think about food. —Honestly, Lan, I just want to go to bed. I haven’t slept properly in… I don’t even know how long. I just want to sleep next to you, that’s all.—

Lando’s smile widened at her words, his heart skipping a beat. —You’ve got it. Bed, it is.—

He walked towards the bedroom, knowing that the second she saw the bed, she'd crash into it. But before they could reach it, Amelie stopped in her tracks, her eyes locking onto him with a playful, flirtatious gleam.

—You’re still so cute,— she said softly, her voice teasing. —I don’t even know why I’m still surprised by how much you spoil me.—

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as he took a step closer. —I’ll spoil you all night long, Ames,— he said with a wink. —But right now, let’s get some sleep before I do it properly.—

Amelie smiled, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let go of all the stress, slipping into the comfort of his arms as they collapsed onto the bed. The blankets surrounded them, warm and soft, and she snuggled close, breathing in the scent of him—familiar, safe, and exactly what she needed.

—Missed you so much,— Amelie mumbled into his chest, her voice muffled but sincere.

Lando ran his fingers through her hair, the motion gentle and soothing. —I missed you more, Ames. More than you know.—

It wasn’t long before their quiet, contented breathing filled the room, both of them slipping into a peaceful slumber, lost in the warmth of each other’s presence.

But the peaceful night wasn’t meant to last long. At 6 a.m., Amelie was the first to stir, the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand pulling her from sleep. She groaned, rolling over to glance at the screen. Her makeup artist, Gla Tema, was calling, ready to start getting her prepared for the day.

—Shit,— Amelie muttered under her breath, rubbing her eyes as she sat up in bed.

Lando closed the door behind them and dropped his bag by the entryway before turning to face her. His eyes softened as they took in the sight of Amelie—tired, yet somehow glowing, even after all the travel chaos. The look he gave her made her heart flutter, like it had when they first became friends, and later, when they started dating. That deep connection still held them tightly, even after everything.

—You hungry?— Lando asked, his voice a little softer than usual. —I could whip something up, make you feel more at home.—

Amelie shook her head, too tired to even think about food. —Honestly, Lan, I just want to go to bed. I haven’t slept properly in… I don’t even know how long. I just want to sleep next to you, that’s all.—

Lando’s smile widened at her words, his heart skipping a beat. —You’ve got it. Bed, it is.—

He walked towards the bedroom, knowing that the second she saw the bed, she'd crash into it. But before they could reach it, Amelie stopped in her tracks, her eyes locking onto him with a playful, flirtatious gleam.

—You’re still so cute,— she said softly, her voice teasing. —I don’t even know why I’m still surprised by how much you spoil me.—

Lando chuckled, shaking his head as he took a step closer. —I’ll spoil you all night long, Ames,— he said with a wink. —But right now, let’s get some sleep before I do it properly.—

Amelie smiled, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she let go of all the stress, slipping into the comfort of his arms as they collapsed onto the bed. The blankets surrounded them, warm and soft, and she snuggled close, breathing in the scent of him—familiar, safe, and exactly what she needed.

—Missed you so much,— Amelie mumbled into his chest, her voice muffled but sincere.

Lando ran his fingers through her hair, the motion gentle and soothing. —I missed you more, Ames. More than you know.—

It wasn’t long before their quiet, contented breathing filled the room, both of them slipping into a peaceful slumber, lost in the warmth of each other’s presence.

But the peaceful night wasn’t meant to last long. At 6 a.m., Amelie was the first to stir, the sound of her phone buzzing on the nightstand pulling her from sleep. She groaned, rolling over to glance at the screen. Her makeup artist was calling, ready to start getting her prepared for the day.

—Shit,— Amelie muttered under her breath, rubbing her eyes as she sat up in bed.

Lando groggily shifted beside her, his arm reaching out to pull her back down into the warmth of the covers. —Noooo, don’t leave yet, Ames,— he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. His arm wrapped around her waist, trying to keep her in place, but Amelie gently nudged him off.

—As much as I want to stay here with you, babe, I have to get up,— she replied, her voice still laced with sleepiness as she tried to peel herself away from him.

Lando groaned dramatically, pulling her back toward him one more time before reluctantly letting go. He gave her a pouty look, the kind that always made her laugh. —I swear, you’re the busiest woman I know,— he said, running a hand through his messy hair. —Can’t even have you all to myself for one morning.—

Amelie gave him a smirk, her eyes half-lidded with sleep. —You’ve had me plenty of mornings, Lan. Don’t act like you don’t know the drill by now.—

Lando yawned, stretching his arms above his head. —Yeah, well, I’m still not over how lucky I am to have you back here. It's been too damn long.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a smile despite herself. —You say that now. Just wait until I’m all over the place with press and events. I won’t have time to breathe.—

—I don’t mind. As long as you’re breathing next to me when you can,— he said, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he slipped out of bed and grabbed her hoodie from the chair, tossing it to her. —Go make yourself pretty for the press and I’ll make you breakfast, okay? You deserve it.—

Amelie chuckled, pulling the hoodie over her head. —You’re too sweet. Thank you.—

She reached out to touch his arm before heading toward the bathroom, feeling that familiar warmth between them again. Even after all the time they’d been apart, nothing felt forced or uncomfortable when it came to him. It was like they had always been right here, together, even if the world outside them moved at a thousand miles an hour.

Lando smiled to himself as he made his way to the kitchen, moving with quiet confidence, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. When Amelie was in "go mode," he had learned long ago that the best way to get her to relax was by feeding her—preferably something simple, something comforting. He pulled out the ingredients for her favorite breakfast: pancakes, just the way she liked them—fluffy and warm, with extra syrup on the side. A few strawberries to garnish and a side of fresh orange juice. It wasn’t the grandest breakfast, but he knew it would hit the spot.

As Lando worked in the kitchen, the soft hum of the morning seemed to settle into a quiet rhythm. He cracked the eggs, mixed the batter, and flipped the pancakes with ease, the kind of precision that always made Amelie smile. He knew what she liked, and in this moment, it wasn’t about extravagant gestures. It was the little things, the care he put into making her feel comfortable, that mattered.

Meanwhile, Amelie was in the bathroom, her face tired but determined as she began her morning routine. She scrubbed away the remnants of the long journey, her mind drifting back to how nice it was to be back here with him. It felt so natural, like slipping into an old sweater—comfy, familiar, and exactly what she needed.

She could hear Lando’s soft voice from the kitchen, singing some random tune he’d made up in the moment, likely an off-key version of a song she couldn’t quite place. It made her smile despite herself. The chaotic whirlwind of press events was about to begin, but right now, this—being with him—was the calm in the storm.

After finishing in the bathroom, Amelie slipped back into the bedroom, quickly throwing on her sweats before going into the kitchen. Lando was just plating the pancakes, his eyes lighting up when he saw her enter.

—Morning, beautiful,— he greeted with that grin she loved so much, that grin that never failed to make her feel special, even when she was running on barely any sleep.

—Morning,— Amelie replied, her voice a little hoarse but warm. She walked over to him, leaning on the counter, watching as he poured syrup onto the pancakes. —I’m starving. I can’t believe you woke up early to do all this for me.—

Lando shrugged, his mischievous smile tugging at his lips. —I wasn’t going to let you starve before you go off to another busy day.— He placed the plate in front of her, setting a fork next to it. —Eat. I know you won’t have time to eat later.—

Amelie picked up the fork, taking a bite of the pancake, her eyes fluttering closed as she savored the taste. —God, Lan, you really are the best,— she said between bites. —I swear, no one makes pancakes like you.—

Lando sat down next to her, his eyes softening as he watched her enjoy the breakfast. —I know. I’m pretty talented.—

She laughed, shaking her head at his cocky grin. —Always so humble, huh?—

—Well, someone has to be,— Lando quipped, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. —And I do it for you, Ames. All for you.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, but her smile never faltered. She set the fork down and reached out to squeeze his hand. —Thank you, really,— she said, her voice more sincere. —For this. For everything. I know it’s been crazy for both of us, but just... having you here makes everything easier.—

He squeezed her hand back, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. —I know, Ames. Same here. I’ll always be here, no matter how crazy things get.— His voice softened, more serious now, as his gaze locked onto hers. —And after all this press stuff, you’ll have some time to just... breathe, yeah? I’ll make sure of it.—

She nodded, her heart swelling with affection for him. —That sounds perfect.—

Amelie finished her pancakes, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. There was something about Lando, about being with him, that made everything feel like it was falling into place. As chaotic as their lives had been, as distant as they’d sometimes been from each other, moments like this reminded her that they were exactly where they were supposed to be. Together.

Once breakfast was done, Amelie quickly finished getting ready. Lando kept himself busy, putting the dishes away and pulling on his hoodie, settling onto the couch with his phone in hand as Amelie did her final touch-ups in the bathroom. He wasn’t in a rush. He knew she had a full day ahead of her, and even though he wished he could keep her all to himself, he was patient. He’d learned that patience was one of the best ways to love her.

By the time Amelie was finished, it was already time for her glam team to arrive. She kissed Lando on the cheek before stepping into the living room, finding her makeup artist and hair stylist waiting for her.

The glam team got to work quickly, brushing, curling, and primping her for the day ahead. Amelie was used to the routine by now, but today, the weight of the final press day before the premiere of Wicked felt heavier. She was ready for it to be over, to finally have a break, to spend time with Lando.

As the team finished, she glanced at Lando, who had his head tilted back on the couch, eyes half-closed but with a quiet grin on his face.

—Come on, Lan,— she said, standing up and stretching. —You’re coming to the premiere, right? No way you’re getting out of it this time.—

—I wouldn’t miss it for the world,— he answered, standing up to walk over to her. His hand found the small of her back as they made their way to the door. He leaned down, brushing a kiss to her temple. —After all, you’ll be stunning, and I need to be the lucky guy standing next to you.—

Amelie’s heart fluttered, her nerves from the day ahead momentarily forgotten. —You’re too much,— she whispered, a smile tugging at her lips.

As she turned to leave, Lando called out to her, his voice playful but sincere. —Just don’t forget, I’m always here, Ames. I’ll be cheering you on the whole time. You’ve got this.—

Amelie turned, her eyes softening as she looked at him. —I know, Lan. See you later.—

With a wink, Lando let her go, watching as she left for the press interviews. As soon as she was out the door, he quickly moved to gather the few things he needed before he would leave later to head to Merida. But for now, he knew he had to be there for her in his own quiet way.

[mintharabaenrelore]

Paladin VS Cleric

To clear up any confusion, I'm not comparing the two DnD classes, but rather discussing them in relation to Minthara. I want to explore why she is a paladin rather than a cleric (@trappedinafantasy37 made a brilliant post on that!) and the nature of her Oath.

Also, thank you all for 101 followers. I'm overjoyed to see people are enjoying my posts, and I adore the fun comments, the questions, the helpful advice, all of it. Lolth kyorl dos!

Why is Minthara a paladin, not a cleric?

Of course, there are two practical reasons for this. One, Minthara does not worship a god after Lolth and the Absolute. On the DnD wiki, the Godless Cleric subclass states, "As a Godless Cleric, your power was not bestowed upon you by a deity, but rather you siphon it from a divine source. [...] Regardless, you bypass the affinity of a deity yet tap into divine power."

Furthermore, the Dungeon Master's Guide says, "In rules terms, clerics choose domains, not deities, so your world can associate domains with deities in any way you choose." So would Minthara, as a cleric, have to worship a god? Not necessarily, but there is not a Godless subclass in BG3.

And two, Shadowheart is a cleric. Since you meet her first and by Act 2 many players are accustomed to her, to avoid the predicament of having not one but two clerics in the party, Minthara would end up sitting around camp in many people's playthroughs if she were a cleric, too.

Lore-wise, it seems as if Minthara should be a cleric. She canonically attended Arach-Tinilith, as she mentions her Ceremony of Graduation as well as having seen "the black academies of Tier-Breche." Only males could Melee-Magthere and Sorcere; exceptions such as Noori Baenre did exist, but Minthara's comments about her religion, her profession, and her worldviews are- in my opinion- solid proof that her school was Arach-Tinilith.

A priestess or cleric is the default profession for all noble female drow, particularly a Baenre, as many Baenre females go on to become High Priestesses.

My theory is that she was a cleric originally and became a paladin later on in her life. She was trained by her House as "a soldier in Lolth's service", not to mention she led the expedition to Moonrise Towers; she spent time raiding and pillaging the surface; she performed interrogations; she punished "heretics" and anyone who defied Lolth. Minthara, in Menzoberranzan, was powerful, not just due to her heritage but- I believe- due to her unique role. Her mother believed she was "special" since birth, and considering Minthara's draa velve fighting style, she likely had some considerable combat skills since youth; the paladin class combines the religious fervor of the cleric with the impressive battle prowess of a fighter. It must have seemed like the obvious choice. (It makes even more sense if her mother is Zel'Tharra Baenre.)

I also think she, quite literally, began as a cleric, as her Magic: The Gathering card portrays her as one, and when you first meet her, she fights with maces- the classic clerical weapons.

What is the nature of Minthara's oath, and why isn't it broken?

"I took up my oath long ago, when I swore bloody vengeance against any who defied Lolth. Now, I myself have sinned against the Spider Queen." This statement from Minthara reinforces my theory that she became a cleric/priestess of Lolth and took up her Oath soon after.

As we all know, Minthara's oath is the Oath of Vengeance.

Minthara's focus, and the point of her Oath, is to punish her enemies. The identity of her enemies has changed with her- first, Lolth's enemies, when she was loyal to the Spider Queen; now, the Absolute, particularly Orin the Red and Ketheric Thorm, for obvious reasons.

Now, let's discuss how her Oath remains unbroken, as I have seen many people questioning that. The tenets, according to the Player's Handbook, are as follows:

"Fight the Greater Evil. Faced with a choice of fighting my sworn foes or combating a lesser evil, I choose the greater evil.

No Mercy for the Wicked. Ordinary foes might win my mercy, but my sworn enemies do not.

By Any Means Necessary. My qualms can't get in the way of exterminating my foes.

Restitution. If my foes wreak ruin on the world, it is because I failed to stop them. I must help those harmed by their misdeeds."

It is possible to break Minthara's oath in the game, by doing something that will break the PC's. But if you are not playing as her, she won't do those things of her own accord.

Minthara advises you to do things that may break an Oath of Vengeance- such as accepting Gortash's proposal or letting Astarion become the Vampire Ascendant. But does she do those things herself? No.

Take a closer look at those tenets- Minthara has not broken any of them, not exactly.

When she worshipped Lolth: She fought what she believed to be the greater evil, namely heretics. She showed no mercy to her sworn enemies (Lolth's enemies) and did not let her qualms interfere. She did not allow such dangerous beliefs to 'harm' her people or her goddess.

And now, after the Absolute: She fights the Absolute- the greater evil than just about anything else. She does not show mercy to her enemies; although she does feel "sympathy" for Ketheric Thorm, she counteracts that by wishing pain upon him soon after and ultimately celebrating his death. No matter how much she may dislike a companion or the PC, or disapprove of the PC's actions, she continues on. (This is significant, as people sometimes wonder why she tolerates unnecessary actions of kindness or what she interprets as foolish choices. She has to.) And Minthara does follow the tenet of Restitution by helping the party in their quest.

I believe everything she did under the Absolute's control is irrelevant to her oath, as she couldn't help her actions, and genuinely believed she was acting justly in her god's name.

Minthara herself is unsure whether her oath will hold after the cult is defeated when you ask her about it, but she doesn't mention it having broken at the epilogue party.

If Minthara's Oath is broken, she says, "My Oath is broken. I still hold to the tenets of vengeance, but I am no longer bound by any word of vow." She seems happier when it is broken.

So, what did she do in her society?

As I said, Minthara held considerable power in Menzoberranzan. Raiding and pillaging the surface, performing interrogations, functioning as a "soldier" in Lolth's service. She also states "I have hosted gatherings of House Matrons and High Priestesses who wanted nothing more than to murder each other before the night was done. I have negotiated the handover of hostages and smiled politely while sensing a dagger at my back," so she clearly also has some experience with diplomacy.

Aside from such things, she spent time reading "history books", and Emma Gregory suggests that she was something of a loner. Perhaps she felt isolated, despite Lolth's favor and the power at her fingertips.

One final note- Elaine Cunningham's "Daughter of the Drow" mentions how Liriel feels "affection" for Lolth, in a way, when sourcing her magic from the goddess. With the strength of Minthara's beliefs and her oath, it's plausible to suggest Minthara felt similarly, perhaps more so- and that is part of why she was so crushed when her goddess abandoned her to her fate in the Moonrise Towers prison.

[mymoodwriting]

Request for Anon (yandere TBZ '98z) 2.2k, sirens, yandere, alcohol consumption, beach party atmosphere, campfire gatherings, attempted kidnapping, kidnapping, manipulation, hypnosis, siren song, minor hydrophobia, bleeding from the ears, possible hypothermia, supernatural creatures (@starillusion13)

“I need some air.”

  You stepped away from the dance floor, giggling and waving at your friends, careful not to spill the drink you had in hand. You were spending the weekend at your friend’s beach house, and the vibes they were going for were a three day party. When you arrived you helped set up and by the time dusk had come around the party had already started. There was music and drinks, and lots of people mingling. You were used to this type of life with your friends, so you were certainly enjoying yourself. After a few drinks and hours on the dance floor you knew you needed a break, so you stepped away, going up to the second floor balcony.

The sound of the waves was louder than the muffled music, creating a peaceful atmosphere. The fresh air was also welcomed, needing to clear out your airways. You swirled the drink in your hand, wondering if you should call it here. You did drink, but you weren’t looking to get really drunk tonight. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. It was good to get away from home and work and just have fun, this break was highly overdue. As you were listening to the waves a new melody caught your attention. Your gaze shifted down to the beach below, seeing a small campfire and four individuals around it.

The beach here wasn’t private property or anything, but you were curious as to who they were. The nearest residence was a good couple miles away. The party was up here in the house, but those people were having their own get-together down there. You went back inside, intending to go down to the beach, but you ran into some friends along the way. They were curious as to where you were going and you told them you wanted to go down to the beach to see what was going on. They liked the idea as well, so you all went together. The air would do them good too. As the house music died down you could better hear the guitar and the beautiful voices singing.

You didn’t recognize the melody but it was nice nonetheless. Although the music stopped when your little group was noticed. Four boys sat around their campfire, looking over at you and the others. They were friendly from the start, asking if you wanted to join their circle. The boys spread out, letting you and your friends sit. They introduced themselves, and let you all do the same. Soon enough the guitar was strumming again and a simple conversation was started. For now everyone seemed content getting to know one another. Although from there a few conversations branched out and mini groups were formed.

“So, how long have you played guitar?”

“For as long as I can remember.” Juyeon answered. “Music is a passion of mine.”

“I can tell. You’re very talented.”

“Thanks. So what do you do?”

“Nothing special, just office work.”

“A cubicle?”

“Yeah. I don’t mind it at all. The work is easy and the pay is good. Way less stressful than my old retail job.”

“You worked retail?”

“My greatest trial.” You chuckled. “It had its good and bad days, but I’m glad to have the experience. I know what the employees go through and have great respect for them.”

“You see the bright side in a lot of things, don’t you?”

“I try. I want to make the most of my life and enjoy myself. What about you though, what do you do with your time?”

“I focus on my music.”

“Ah, a real musician. Where can I find your music?”

“Right here.”

Juyeon changed the tune he was playing and began to sing, his friends joining in as well. You listened with a smile on your face, seeing how quickly everyone got into the song. You couldn’t help but wonder who they were. Most of the people at the party you knew, one way or another, but these guys seemed like total strangers. With that in mind you should probably be worried, but they didn’t seem like bad people. You were captivated by the music until it was interrupted by cheering and yelling. Apparently the bond fire out on the beach had been noticed and a good amount of people were moving the party outside.

Soon enough the soothing sound of the waves and guitar playing was drowned out by the stereo and the conversations all around. You didn’t mind much, especially considering this party wasn’t supposed to end any time soon. Your friends got up, dragging some of the other boys along to dance. You got up as well, although Juyeon grabbed your arm and pulled you back down. For a moment he seemed annoyed, but quickly changed his expression. Perhaps he had come out here to get away from all the loud partying, and your arrival unintentionally brought it to him. You wanted to apologize but weren’t sure how to go about it.

“Let’s go talk somewhere in private.”

“You’re not much of a party person?”

“Too much noise.”

“I bet the house is quieter now, we can go up there.”

“I know somewhere better.”

“Alright, lead the way.

You got up with Juyeon, and he kept a hold of your arm as he led you through the crowds, moving away from the house. Although along the way you were yanked from his grasp, surrounded by familiar faces and dancing bodies. It seemed that the party didn’t want you leaving again. You tried looking around for Juyeon, but he found you first, grabbing your arm once more and pulling you close. This time the annoyance was clear on his face and his grip was firm. You were starting to get this uneasy feeling about him, deciding it was best to part ways.  Yet you couldn’t get yourself free.

“Juyeon… let go…”

“…”

 “Let go! I’m serious, this isn’t funny!”

Without another word Juyeon started dragging you away from the crowd as you continued to struggle. No one seemed to notice your distress, and screaming probably wouldn’t get you anywhere. The only other option was to fight. So without hesitation you punched Juyeon in the stomach, causing him to double over and let you go. You quickly ran off, looking for your friends in the crowd. You spotted someone, waving your arm and shouting to get their attention when this ear-piercing screech filled the air. You fell to your knees covering your ears, trying to drown out the sound. You weren’t the only one affected as you saw others around you doing the same thing as you.

It was hard to tell how long the disruption lasted, but when it stopped things seemed different. Your vision was a bit blurry, and there was a muted ringing in your ears. As you pulled your hands away you felt something warm and thick, looking at your fingers to see blood. You were trying to process when your arm was grabbed and you were pulled up to your feet. For a moment you could make out Kevin’s face before he was dragging you behind him. You stumbled over others on the ground, trying to regain your own sense while attempting to free yourself. Although just like before, Kevin’s grip also seemed impossible to break.

Next thing you knew you felt wet sand beneath your feet, starting to realize Kevin was pulling you towards the water. You screamed and let yourself fall to the floor, hoping your body weight could stop him in his tracks. It did jerk him back, but he was only annoyed for a bit. Someone from behind pulled you up to your feet, pushing you forward into the water. You continued to yell, trying to free yourself and not let the fear of the approaching water scare you. When you glanced back you could see Changmin pushing you along, a smile on his face. You didn’t understand what they were doing, but you were terrified.

“Stop! Stop it! Please!”

“Relax, you’ll be fine.” Changmin assured. 

“Let go! Ple-”

You were so distracted by Changmin that you were completely clueless about the oncoming wave until it hit you. For a moment your whole world was underwater, and then a calming atmosphere seemed to wash over you, pulling you under into the darkness.

🖤

You gasped awake, taking in deep breaths as you looked around. You were lying on sand, the waves receding just a few feet from you. It wasn’t that cold, but you were still wet, which made you shiver. You looked around, but you seemed to be completely alone, the only light coming from the moon. After a moment you managed to get on your feet, properly taking in your surroundings. This place was completely unfamiliar. Besides the water and sand, there was nothing but endless trees. You thought back to what happened before you woke up here, but your memories seemed impossible.

Those boys from the beach had dragged you into the water, and before that there had been that loud noise. As the helplessness of your situation was starting to settle in you noticed what seemed to be smoke rising into the air. Someone had started a fire. Without much thought you headed into the trees, following the smoke trail, hoping to find someone, anyone else. Once you were further in you saw the inklings of fire light, feeling hopeful. That is until you broke through the plants to find a small little campsite. Four familiar faces gathered around a fire, merely watching the flames until their gazes turned to you. A golden glow from their eyes froze you in place.

“I’m glad you found your way to us.” Chanhee giggled. “Sit.”

“… what… what’s going on… what happened…”

“Nothing you need to worry about. Sit down, I’m sure you need to warm up.”

“No… no…” You took a step back. “… you guys…”

“You’re on our island.” Kevin stated. “There’s nowhere else for you to go. So sit down, before you run off and get lost.”

“… what are you…”

“We’re not gonna hurt you if that’s what you’re scared of.”

“… then… why’d you bring me here… how did you-”

“You wanted to come here.” Juyeon remarked. “So we brought you.”

“I never said that…”

“Actions speak louder than words. Of course it was a bit difficult at first when you came to the beach with friends, but we found you eventually.”

“What are you talking about…”

“We sang a song, it was an invitation.” Changmin explained. “For a pretty little human to run away into our arms, and you came to us.”

“No, no I didn’t, I…”

“Sh, it’s okay. One’s innermost desires are always hard to understand, but we heard you loud and clear.”

“Liars… take me back! Now!”

“And why would we do that?” Juyeon questioned. “When you don’t actually want to, do you?”

“I…”

There was something in his voice that didn’t sound right. It created this sensation, a sense of calm and peace you had felt before when you heard them sing. Then it all clicked into place. Sirens. That realization snapped you out of it, so you turned and ran, not daring to look back. Although as badly as you wanted to escape, eventually you escaped from the trees, coming upon an endless expanse of water. They said you were on an island, and you had no way of knowing that was true. Your best bet now was to pick a direction, but then you heard rustling behind you.

“You’ll get lost if you go off on your own.” Kevin said. “If you don’t freeze to death first.”

“Stay back!”

“We already said we’re not gonna hurt you.” Chanhee added. “Don’t you believe us?”

“Just… just send me back… you… you don’t need me…”

“But we do.” Juyeon corrected. “You think we’d go anywhere near humans without a purpose? No, no, no, darling, we were hunting for you.”

“What… what do you want with me…?”

“For now we just need to keep you close until we can make the proper arrangements.”

“Arrangements…?”

“The island is just temporary, silly.” Changmin teased. “I’m sure by now you’ve figured out what we are. Your human body isn’t suitable for us, but we’ll rectify that soon enough.”

“… please…”

“Just relax and come here, we need to warm you up, and I have other ideas besides a fire.”

You stumbled back a few steps, grabbing your head. You could feel that calm sense starting to wash over you, but you were fighting back. As you continued to move you eventually felt your feet dipping into water. They had you cornered, and there was really nowhere to run.

“… please… don’t…”

“You’ll be just fine with us, better even.” Chanhee held his hand out to you. “We made an excellent choice with you.”

“You’re perfect, darling.” Kevin added. “Come now.”

“I…”

Your head was spinning, the world getting a bit blurry as your own identity was being drowned into the back of your own mind. They were getting closer and closer, and your own fears were disappearing. Without truly meaning to you were reaching out to Chanhee’s hand, the inklings of a smile forming on your face. The golden eyes, the soft voices, it wasn’t so scary anymore. If anything it seemed rather welcoming. When you took Chanhee’s hand you felt lighter, as if all your worries had been washed away.

“Good girl, you’ll see, you’re perfect for us. At least you will be, eventually.”

[ahedderick]

More excitement than I wanted

This evening after horse chores, Roommate and my daughter climbed the giant apple tree where most of the chickens roost. He caught the four 'excess' roosters and passed them down to her, to pass down to me on the ground. We need to confine them so we can butcher tomorrow. Having multiple roosters is just an accident waiting to happen; none of them have succeeded in killing each other *yet*, but it's only a matter of time. I took the first one into the kennel, then realized there were three eggs in the box. When I tried to scoop up the eggs, the rooster sort of - exploded - in my face. He ran, shrieking, past me and out into the yard. K and Roommate, in the tree, limited themselves to polite exclamations of "oh, no!" and I appreciated their restraint.

I started pursuing the errant rooster into the darkness, think at any moment he'd realize he couldn't see a damned thing and just stop. No. He did not. Rosalie, who wants with all her little whippet heart to chase chickens, followed me and the rooster across the pasture. She started making tentative little rushes at him, more herding than chasing. That looked like it might make things easier for me, so I encouraged her. At the barn he turned around and started heading back toward the coop and the tree. I persistance-predatored my butt after him. Engage the whippet!

Eventually, he made a mistake and I was able to grab him. Rosalie was vibrating with excitement. He and three other roos were confined, and the prettiest white one was caught to be taken down to live at Home Farm. The prettiest brown one was left in the tree; he will stay with us as long as he behaves himself.

We also gathered up the two oldest white hens, who no longer lay, to take them down to Home Farm, too. At this point Roommate had a furious rooster under one arm, and a soft, grumpy hen under the other. K took his keys to drive the truck. I was holding hen 2, who felt like a gigantic marshmallow. So squishy. Rosalie jumped up to sniff, and got her nose pecked. She was escorted unwillingly back to the house; her participation was no longer needed.

Tomorrow the three white ones will wake up in the barn with the goats at Home Farm. The hens remaining here will go about their day as usual. And K, Roommate, and I will have a small-scale butchering day. Hopefully won't take too long.

[ouiouibaguettt]

New Beginnings

wbb masterlist

Y/N -> your name. Italics -> text

9,6k words (this one was sleeping in my draft for too long)

______________________________________________________________________

The UConn Huskies women’s basketball team had just finished a grueling practice session, one of many in the lead-up to their upcoming games. The air was thick with exhaustion, but there was an undercurrent of excitement. It was the kind of energy that came from knowing they were a championship-caliber team, but also one that came with the pressure of maintaining their elite status.

Azzi Fudd, the team’s shining star, was doing her usual post-practice ritual of shooting free throws, her focus unwavering. Her teammates, including the newly arrived Y/N, were gathered near the locker room, cooling down. Y/N had transferred to UConn from another university, and while she had quickly become a key player, there was something about her that stood out to Azzi—something beyond her skills on the court.

As Y/N grabbed a water bottle, she caught sight of Azzi, still on the court. Something about the way she moved, the intensity with which she practiced, was mesmerizing. Y/N had always admired Azzi from afar, but now being on the same team as her was a dream come true—and one that was quickly becoming more complicated.

After the rest of the team had headed to the locker room, Y/N stayed behind, taking a few extra shots to clear her mind. It had been a tough practice, and her body ached. She didn’t notice Azzi walking up beside her until she heard her voice.

“You staying late too?” Azzi asked, her voice casual but with a knowing glint in her eye.

Y/N glanced up and smiled. “Yeah, just working out some kinks. Practice was intense today.”

Azzi chuckled, stepping closer. “Tell me about it. We’ve got to be sharp if we want to win it all this season.” She paused for a moment, eyeing Y/N. “But you’ve got the skills. I’ve seen your game; you’re gonna make a huge impact here.”

The compliment made Y/N’s heart race a little faster. She had watched Azzi on TV for years before they were teammates, so to hear praise from her felt surreal.

“Thanks” Y/N said, trying to keep her cool. “It’s still a lot to adjust to, but I’m ready.”

Azzi grinned, walking toward the free throw line and casually taking a shot. “You’ll get there. We all have to work harder if we want to be champions.”

Y/N nodded, stepping forward to join her. The two of them spent the next few minutes practicing free throws together, pushing each other to make every shot. They didn’t talk much; instead, they communicated in the unspoken language of teammates—pushing each other to be better, always.

A few days later, UConn had their first big game of the season. The energy in the arena was electric, the stands packed with fans. The competition was fierce, but Azzi and Y/N were in perfect sync, moving as one, anticipating each other’s plays. KK Arnold was on the court as well, making sharp passes, while Paige Bueckers moved fluidly, executing her usual dazzling plays. But despite the solid teamwork around her, Y/N couldn’t keep her eyes off Azzi.

Azzi’s focus on the court was undeniable. She was a force to be reckoned with, but there was a quiet intensity to her that drew Y/N in. And every now and then, when their eyes met across the court, there was an unspoken connection between them that neither could ignore.

As the game went on, the intensity mounted. UConn’s opponent was tough, but the Huskies’ skill, especially Azzi’s leadership and Y/N’s sharp shooting, began to turn the tide. With just minutes left in the game, the score was neck-and-neck.

KK Arnold brought the ball up the court, and Y/N found herself in position for a perfect shot. Azzi, who had been leading the charge, drew the defense in and passed the ball to Y/N, who drained a three-pointer. The crowd erupted into cheers as UConn took the lead.

Azzi was the first to rush over to Y/N, throwing an arm around her in a quick hug. “That’s what I’m talking about!” she shouted over the noise of the crowd, her face lighting up with pride.

Y/N smiled, her heart racing. “Thanks for the assist, Azzi. You made that play happen.”

Azzi shrugged, her eyes shining with excitement. “We make each other better.”

After the game, the team gathered in the locker room, the excitement of the win still buzzing in the air. The coaches were handing out praise, but it was clear that Azzi, Y/N, Paige, and KK were the stars of the game. Everyone was buzzing, but there was a certain warmth in the air as the team celebrated their success.

Y/N found herself standing next to Azzi, the two of them smiling and laughing about the game. The tension that had been building between them, from practice to the court, seemed to ease after the win.

“I knew you had it in you” Azzi said, nudging Y/N playfully with her shoulder.

Y/N laughed, glancing at Azzi, her heart fluttering. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Your assists were on point today.”

Azzi grinned, stepping a little closer. “Teamwork. That’s how we’re gonna win it all this season.”

Before Y/N could respond, Azzi reached out and pulled her into a quick, but intimate hug, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s shoulders. Y/N hesitated for a moment, then wrapped her arms around Azzi’s waist, feeling a rush of warmth flood through her. The quiet PDA was not for the cameras or the fans—it was a moment just between them.

“We’ve got this” Y/N whispered into Azzi’s ear, her heart racing.

Azzi pulled back just enough to look at her, her eyes soft and sincere. “Yeah, we do.”

The team’s celebrations continued around them, but in that moment, it felt like everything was in perfect balance—basketball, friendship, and something more that neither of them was quite ready to define. All they knew was that they had each other, both on and off the court. And as the season progressed, it was clear that whatever happened, they were in it together.

As the season went on, the connection between Azzi and Y/N grew. On the court, they were unstoppable. Off the court, their chemistry continued to build. Between practices, games, and their growing bond, it became evident that their relationship wasn’t just about basketball—it was about understanding, support, and an unspoken trust that only teammates, and maybe something more, could share.

Their bond had only just begun, and with the season still ahead of them, Azzi and Y/N knew that no matter where their relationship went, they had something special that could carry them through any challenge—together.

______________________________________________________________________

The season was heating up, and UConn was ready to face one of their toughest opponents yet—Iowa. The arena was buzzing with anticipation, and the energy in the locker room was high. Azzi, Y/N, Paige, and KK were all locked in, determined to make their mark against a team known for its fierce defense and high-scoring offense.

As the team huddled together, Coach Geno Auriemma gave them his usual pep talk, reminding them of their strengths and the importance of staying composed. But for Y/N, there was an added layer of excitement—not just for the game, but for the bond that was beginning to form with Azzi. They’d been growing closer over the last few weeks, and the connection between them was becoming impossible to ignore.

The game started with an intense pace, both teams trading baskets and playing aggressively. Azzi, as usual, was a standout—her defense was sharp, her shooting precise, and she was leading the charge. But Y/N wasn’t far behind. They were playing with a confidence that had grown stronger with each passing game, making crucial shots and setting up their teammates with perfect assists.

In the first half, UConn had the lead, but Iowa was relentless. Their star player, Caitlin Clark, was lighting up the scoreboard, and UConn was struggling to keep up with her. The Huskies’ defense was getting tested like never before, and it was clear that this game was going to come down to the wire.

Azzi and Y/N were always near each other on the court, constantly communicating through eye contact and quick gestures. Their chemistry was undeniable, and the more they played together, the more they seemed to anticipate each other’s moves.

With the game tied and just minutes left, the tension in the air was palpable. The crowd was on the edge of their seats as UConn fought to hold off Iowa’s final push. Y/N was at the top of the key, waiting for the ball. Azzi, on the other side, was creating space with her usual quick cuts. When Y/N caught the ball, they saw Azzi’s movement and immediately passed it to her, giving Azzi the perfect shot to take the game into UConn’s favor.

Azzi drained the shot, and the crowd erupted. UConn had the lead with only seconds left on the clock.

______________________________________________________________________

The final buzzer sounded, and UConn had done it—they had beaten Iowa in a thrilling, back-and-forth game. The players spilled onto the court, celebrating their hard-earned victory. Paige, KK, and the rest of the team surrounded Azzi, high-fiving and shouting in excitement. But Azzi’s eyes immediately found Y/N in the crowd of teammates. Without a second thought, she made her way toward them, her heart racing from the adrenaline of the game and the sheer joy of the win.

Y/N was already smiling, their eyes locked onto Azzi as she approached. As soon as she was within reach, Azzi wrapped her arms around them, pulling them into a tight hug.

“You were incredible today,” Azzi said, her voice full of admiration. Her hands lingered on Y/N’s back, her touch lingering just a little longer than it should have. Y/N could feel their heart beat faster at the closeness.

Y/N laughed softly, brushing their hand against Azzi’s arm. “We were a team out there. You nailed that shot.”

Azzi grinned, her face flushed from the heat of the game and the joy of victory. She leaned in slightly, her lips brushing Y/N’s ear as she whispered, “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

In that moment, with the roar of the crowd still in the background, Azzi’s lips found Y/N’s, pressing a soft, quick kiss against them. The action wasn’t for anyone else; it wasn’t a display for the cameras. It was a moment between two people who had been building something special. A quiet declaration of how much they meant to each other, even in the chaos of competition.

Y/N pulled back slightly, their eyes searching Azzi’s. “I didn’t expect that” they whispered, their voice teasing but full of affection.

Azzi smiled, her fingers tracing the edge of Y/N’s jaw. “What? You thought I’d wait?”

Y/N chuckled, stepping a little closer, their breath mixing with Azzi’s. “I guess not.”

______________________________________________________________________

The locker room was filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter as the team celebrated their victory. Paige and KK were joking around, and Coach Auriemma was offering his praise, though his tone remained firm, reminding them that the season wasn’t over yet.

Azzi and Y/N found themselves in the middle of the celebration, but they couldn’t help stealing glances at each other, their connection undeniable. Between the high-fives and the cheers, they found themselves inching closer again, quietly finding moments to touch—whether it was brushing hands, a brief arm around the shoulder, or a shared smile. The tension that had been building for weeks was finally starting to shift into something more comfortable, more real.

As the noise of the celebration continued, Y/N leaned toward Azzi, speaking in a low voice so no one else could hear. “You know, this season’s going to be unforgettable.”

Azzi nodded, her gaze intense but soft. “Yeah. And I’m glad I get to share it with you.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. It wasn’t about the game. It wasn’t about the championship they were chasing. It was about the quiet bond that had grown between them, something that neither was ready to fully define but something that both of them knew was going to be a big part of this journey.

______________________________________________________________________

Later that evening, after the celebrations had died down and the team was heading back to the hotel, Azzi and Y/N walked side by side, the city lights casting long shadows in front of them. The hustle and bustle of the streets seemed far away compared to the quiet moments they shared.

As they approached the hotel entrance, Y/N glanced at Azzi. “Hey, you want to grab a late-night snack?”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You just want an excuse to spend more time with me, don’t you?”

Y/N grinned, their heart swelling with affection. “Maybe. Is that a problem?”

Azzi’s smile widened. “Not at all.”

They entered the hotel together, already anticipating the quiet of the night ahead and whatever came next, both on and off the court.

As the season continued, they knew that no matter what challenges they faced, they had each other to rely on—not just as teammates, but as something more.

“Together, Always”

With each passing day, Azzi and Y/N’s bond deepened. The season was long, and the games would only get harder, but they were ready for whatever came their way—both on the court and in the moments they would continue to share.

______________________________________________________________________

The holiday season had arrived, and with it, the much-needed Christmas break. UConn had a short window to rest before the next big stretch of games, and the players were grateful for the time to recharge. Azzi Fudd and Y/N, however, found themselves struggling to stay away from basketball for too long. The gym was quiet, but both were there, sneaking in extra workouts when the rest of the team took a break.

Even though they were in a festive mood, with Christmas lights twinkling outside and a blanket of snow covering the campus, there was a warmth between Azzi and Y/N that hadn’t been there before. The connection between them had grown beyond their teammates’ bond—there was something undeniably special blossoming in the spaces between their stolen glances and the quiet moments they shared.

______________________________________________________________________

It was Christmas Eve, and while most of the team had already left for the break, Azzi and Y/N had stayed behind to finish up some last-minute drills. The gym was almost empty, save for a few coaches doing their final rounds, and the quiet hum of the lights overhead.

Azzi was practicing her shots from the three-point line, her form smooth and fluid. Y/N was at the other end of the court, dribbling and running drills, but they kept stealing glances at Azzi, their focus momentarily slipping.

“Focus, Y/N!” Azzi called out with a smirk, her voice echoing off the empty walls.

Y/N rolled their eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “I’m focusing” they shot back playfully, dribbling the ball harder.

Azzi, sensing a playful challenge, tossed the ball toward Y/N. “Let’s see who can make more shots in five minutes.”

Y/N caught the ball and immediately shot it back, grinning. “You’re on.”

The next five minutes were filled with rapid shots, quick passes, and laughter. Azzi’s competitiveness was infectious, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel energized by her presence. Every time Azzi made a shot, she flashed a quick, teasing smile at Y/N, and every time Y/N managed to sink one of their own, they exchanged a playful challenge.

In the final moments of their competition, Y/N found themselves at the top of the key, setting up for one last shot. As they focused on the hoop, they heard Azzi’s voice behind them, playful yet sincere.

“You know, you’re kind of ruining my perfect streak here.”

Y/N grinned without turning, speaking just loud enough for Azzi to hear. “Better get used to it then.”

With that, Y/N made the final shot, and they couldn’t help but do a small victory dance. Azzi rolled her eyes, laughing, but then moved toward Y/N, standing just a few inches away.

“You win this time” Azzi said, her voice low and teasing.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the proximity, and they couldn’t stop the smile that spread across their face. “Only because you let me.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her gaze softening. “Is that so?”

Without warning, Azzi reached out and pulled Y/N into a brief but intimate hug, her arms wrapping around them. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, the warmth of Azzi’s body pressed against theirs, and the world outside the gym felt far away. Y/N didn’t pull away; instead, they leaned into the hug, savoring the quiet connection between them.

As Azzi pulled back slightly, she placed a gentle kiss on Y/N’s forehead, the soft pressure sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. The feeling lingered, and for a moment, the only sound was their shared breaths.

After their practice session, both Azzi and Y/N decided to take a break from the team activities and spend Christmas Eve together. Y/N had invited Azzi over to their apartment for a quiet evening, away from the usual hustle and bustle of team life.

The small apartment was cozy, decorated with string lights and a Christmas tree in the corner. Y/N had prepared dinner—a homemade pasta dish—and the warm, comforting aroma filled the space.

Azzi kicked off her sneakers and sat on the couch, her eyes scanning the room. “This is nice. You’ve really got a vibe going on here.”

Y/N laughed, setting the plates down on the table. “Thanks. It’s just a little apartment, but I like it.”

Azzi smiled, looking over at Y/N with something soft in her eyes. “I like it too. Feels like home.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the words, and they felt a warmth settle in their chest. They sat down next to Azzi, their legs brushing. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The hum of Christmas music played softly in the background as the two of them sat in companionable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence.

Azzi looked over at Y/N, her eyes thoughtful. “You know, I didn’t think I’d spend Christmas like this—just the two of us.”

Y/N chuckled, nudging Azzi lightly. “Yeah? You didn’t think I’d drag you into my low-key Christmas plans?”

Azzi grinned. “I’m glad you did. It’s… nice. Honestly, I haven’t had a Christmas like this in a long time.”

Y/N paused, looking at Azzi carefully. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Azzi’s smile softened, and she reached for Y/N’s hand, their fingers intertwining. It was a quiet gesture, but it felt significant—a small yet intimate connection between the two of them that spoke volumes.

After dinner, Azzi and Y/N went outside to get some fresh air, stepping onto the balcony of Y/N’s apartment. The night was cold, but the Christmas lights on the nearby buildings created a soft, warm glow.

Azzi wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stay warm, and Y/N moved closer, instinctively pulling her into a hug.

“Cold out here, huh?” Y/N asked, their breath visible in the chilly air.

Azzi nodded, leaning into the warmth of Y/N’s body. “A little, but this is nice. You’re nice.”

Y/N felt their heart skip a beat. “I’m glad you think so.”

Azzi shifted slightly, her face turning toward Y/N’s. The way she looked at them, her eyes soft yet intense, sent a spark of warmth straight through Y/N. Before Y/N could say anything, Azzi leaned in, her lips brushing softly against Y/N’s in a gentle kiss.

The kiss was slow and tender, like something that had been building up for far too long. It was full of quiet affection, a Christmas gift neither of them had expected but both needed. Azzi’s lips lingered against Y/N’s for just a moment longer, the world outside fading away as they shared the moment.

When they pulled back, Azzi smiled, her face flushed in the cool night air. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” she whispered.

“Merry Christmas, Azzi” Y/N replied, their voice thick with emotion.

In that quiet, cozy space, beneath the glow of Christmas lights and the warmth of their connection, they knew that whatever came next—whatever challenges the season would throw their way—they had each other. And that, for now, was all that mattered.

______________________________________________________________________

As Christmas break came to an end and the New Year approached, Azzi and Y/N found themselves even more inseparable. Their bond was no longer just about basketball—it was about the quiet moments, the shared glances, and the way they made each other feel seen.

As they prepared for the next phase of the season, they knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together—on the court and off. The chemistry between them, both in basketball and in life, had only just begun to unfold, and it was clear that the season would be unforgettable, not just for their victories but for the love that was growing between them.

______________________________________________________________________

The excitement was palpable as the start of March Madness approached. UConn had made it to the Final Four, a feat that was no surprise to anyone who followed women’s basketball, but for Azzi Fudd and Y/N, it felt like a dream that had been slowly taking shape for months. The team had worked tirelessly, each player pushing themselves to new limits. And now, here they were, one step away from the national championship.

The buzz around the team was electric. Coach Geno Auriemma kept the mood light, but everyone knew that the stakes were higher than ever. UConn’s first game of the Final Four would be against a talented team that had been gaining momentum all season. The pressure was on, but the players were focused and ready. Azzi and Y/N, in particular, had been inseparable, both on and off the court. Their bond was stronger than ever, and there was a quiet sense of excitement when they looked at each other—something more than just basketball.

It was the night before the big game. The team had a light practice session to stay sharp, and the tension was building. Azzi and Y/N were staying in a hotel, the team scattered in different rooms as they prepared for the challenge ahead. But even amidst the pressure, there was an undeniable sense of calm between them.

They found themselves alone for a rare moment, sitting side by side in a small lounge area in the hotel. The rest of the team was either resting or preparing mentally for the game, but Azzi and Y/N had decided to take a few minutes to themselves.

Azzi, dressed in her UConn hoodie and sweatpants, leaned back in her chair, her feet tucked under her as she sipped on a bottle of water. Y/N, sitting beside her, couldn’t help but notice how at ease Azzi seemed. Her presence was calming, a stark contrast to the whirlwind of thoughts racing through their mind about the upcoming game.

“You ready for tomorrow?” Y/N asked softly, glancing at Azzi.

Azzi smiled, her eyes catching the light from the nearby lamp. “As ready as I’ll ever be. But, I think the real question is, are you ready?”

Y/N chuckled, shaking their head. “Oh, I’ve been ready for this moment since we made it to the tournament. It’s just… crazy, you know? One step away from the championship.”

Azzi nodded, her expression turning more serious. “Yeah, but we can’t think too far ahead. We’ve got to focus on the game at hand. We’ve worked so hard for this moment. And we’ve got this.”

The confidence in Azzi’s voice made Y/N’s heart swell. It was impossible not to believe in her—Azzi had always been the one to lift others up when the pressure mounted. But this time, Y/N wanted to lift her up.

Y/N leaned over, their hand brushing against Azzi’s. The gesture was subtle, but it was enough to send a wave of warmth through both of them. They looked at each other, eyes locking for a long moment.

Azzi gave them a soft smile, her fingers lightly tracing the back of Y/N’s hand. “You’ve been the best teammate I could ask for,” she whispered, her voice low.

Y/N felt a rush of emotion at the words. “I couldn’t do it without you,” they replied.

For a long second, neither of them said anything. The weight of their connection hung in the air, and it felt like everything around them—the upcoming game, the pressure, the noise—didn’t matter as long as they had each other.

Azzi’s lips parted slightly, and before Y/N could stop themselves, they leaned in, brushing their lips gently against Azzi’s. It was a kiss that spoke volumes—quiet, tender, and filled with unspoken promises.

Azzi’s arms wrapped around Y/N’s neck, pulling them closer as the kiss deepened. It was a moment of vulnerability, of love, away from the world of basketball and the expectations that came with it. For those few moments, there was no championship to chase, no opponents to face. There was only Azzi and Y/N—two people, lost in the quiet intimacy they had shared.

When they finally pulled back, both were breathing a little faster, eyes lingering on each other.

“I love you” Azzi whispered, her forehead resting gently against Y/N’s.

Y/N smiled softly, their hand finding Azzi’s. “I love you too”

______________________________________________________________________

The next day, the tension in the arena was palpable. The crowd was filled with energy, anticipation hanging thick in the air. UConn was about to face Stanford in the Final Four, and both teams knew what was on the line. The players had been through countless practices and countless games, but nothing could quite prepare them for the intensity of this match.

Azzi was in her element as usual, moving across the court with confidence and grace. Y/N, equally locked in, fed off Azzi’s energy, pushing themselves to be the best they could be. The game was a back-and-forth battle, with both teams showcasing their strengths.

It was an emotional roller coaster. Stanford had some of the best shooters in the country, but UConn’s defense, led by Azzi and Y/N, was relentless. Paige Bueckers was her usual self—creative, dynamic, and constantly putting pressure on the defense—but it was the bond between Azzi and Y/N that truly stood out. Their connection was unspoken, intuitive. Azzi would catch Y/N’s eyes across the court, and they knew exactly where to pass, exactly when to cut.

As the game neared its climax, the score was tied. There were only seconds left on the clock. The crowd was roaring with anticipation, and Coach Auriemma was giving the final instructions to his team.

Azzi dribbled the ball to the top of the key, where she was quickly surrounded by Stanford defenders. But she knew exactly where Y/N would be, cutting toward the basket with perfect timing.

With one swift motion, Azzi passed the ball. Y/N caught it, squared up, and released the shot—a clean, beautiful arc that flew through the air.

The buzzer rang, and the ball swished through the net.

UConn had won.

The arena erupted in cheers as the players rushed to each other, jumping and screaming in excitement. It was a hard-fought battle, but UConn had done it—they had made it to the national championship.

Azzi and Y/N found each other in the chaos, and for a moment, the entire world seemed to fade away. The celebration was still going on around them, but all they could focus on was each other.

Y/N reached for Azzi, pulling her into a tight embrace. Azzi laughed, her face glowing with the thrill of victory.

“We did it” Azzi said, her voice thick with emotion. “We really did it.”

Y/N smiled, their fingers gently brushing the back of Azzi’s neck. “We’re not done yet.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, I know. We’ve got a championship to win.”

But before the moment could end, Y/N leaned in, their lips meeting Azzi’s in a soft, celebratory kiss. It was a kiss full of joy, full of love, full of everything they had worked for. And as the crowd continued to cheer, the two of them shared a moment of quiet victory, knowing that no matter what happened in the championship, they had each other.

The championship was within reach, but for now, they were content. They had made it this far, and nothing—nothing—could take away the bond they had created along the way.

As the team celebrated in the locker room, the countdown to the final game began. But Y/N and Azzi knew that no matter what, they were already winners. They had each other, and that was worth more than any trophy. The championship game would come soon enough, but for now, they had their moment—a moment to remember for the rest of their lives.

______________________________________________________________________

The national championship game was finally here. After weeks of preparation, sweat, and sacrifices, UConn had made it to the final stage of March Madness, and the stakes couldn’t have been higher. They were facing a powerhouse team in the finals, but no one doubted for a second that UConn had what it took to take home the title.

Azzi Fudd, Y/N, Paige Bueckers, and KK Arnold were all locked in, their chemistry undeniable. As they walked onto the court for warm-ups, there was a quiet confidence about the team. They had made it this far, and now, it was time to finish what they had started.

______________________________________________________________________

Back in the locker room, the mood was a mix of nerves and excitement. Coach Auriemma paced back and forth, talking strategy with the team. He was a master at keeping his players focused while also reminding them of their capabilities.

Azzi sat next to Y/N, both of them tying their shoes, occasionally sharing glances with each other. Paige, sitting across from them, caught their eyes and gave them a playful wink.

“You two are going to have to stop making eyes at each other” Paige teased. “We’ve got a game to win, you know?”

Y/N smiled and leaned into Azzi’s side. “I can’t help it, Paige. She’s distracting.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly grin. “I’m not the only one who’s distracting. Look at KK over there, talking to the water bottle like it’s her best friend.”

KK, who had been deep in concentration, looked up at the teasing and laughed. “Hey, hydration is important. Don’t mock my pre-game routine!”

The entire locker room erupted in laughter, the tension momentarily lifted by the lightheartedness.

Paige’s eyes softened as she turned to Y/N and Azzi. “Seriously though, you two have been amazing together this season. I’m proud of both of you.”

“Thanks, Paige” Y/N said, their smile genuine. “We’ve got this. We’ve been through too much to let it slip now.”

Azzi nodded, her expression determined. “We’re finishing what we started. Let’s get this win.”

______________________________________________________________________

The game was a battle from the first whistle. South Carolina came out strong, and the first few minutes were filled with aggressive plays from both sides. Azzi and Y/N were playing their best, moving fluidly across the court and communicating without speaking. Every pass, every screen, every shot felt perfectly orchestrated, like a well-rehearsed routine.

Paige, as always, was a force, using her quick thinking to find gaps in the defense. KK, ever the spark plug, was everywhere—making hustle plays, diving for loose balls, and pushing the pace. It was a team effort, and they were all in sync.

Azzi had the ball near the top of the key, looking for an opening. Y/N, setting a screen for her, flashed to the basket, knowing exactly what was coming next. Azzi made a quick pass, and Y/N caught the ball mid-air and finished with a beautiful layup.

Paige clapped and shouted from the sidelines, “That’s the way to do it!”

KK ran up to them, high-fiving both Azzi and Y/N. “I love how you two are in sync! Keep it up.”

As the game wore on, the intensity only grew. South Carolina’s defense was relentless, and the score remained tight. With just under two minutes left in the game, UConn was up by only three points. The atmosphere was electric—every possession mattered.

Coach Auriemma called a timeout to regroup the team, and the players huddled around him.

“Listen,” Coach said firmly, looking each player in the eye, “this is what we’ve trained for. We are the best when we play together. Stay calm. Trust each other.”

Azzi, Y/N, Paige, and KK exchanged looks of determination. There was no way they were going to let this moment slip away. It was time to finish the job.

______________________________________________________________________

The crowd held its breath as the final seconds ticked down. With only 10 seconds left, the ball was in Azzi’s hands. She dribbled up the court, eyes scanning the defense. Y/N, positioned on the wing, made a sharp cut toward the basket, signaling to Azzi that they were ready.

Azzi saw it. With the defense collapsing around her, she passed the ball to Y/N. Y/N caught it cleanly and, with a quick pump fake, got their defender in the air. The clock was winding down, and with a quick move, Y/N pulled up for a jump shot from the elbow.

The ball soared through the air.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still.

And then, it swished through the net.

The crowd went wild. UConn had done it. The game was over. They were the national champions.

The moment the buzzer sounded, the UConn players erupted in celebration. They had won the national championship, and it was a feeling like no other. Teammates hugged, jumped, and screamed in joy.

Azzi and Y/N found each other in the chaos, instantly wrapping their arms around one another. They both laughed, out of breath, and their faces lit up with pure happiness.

“We did it” Azzi said, her voice shaky with emotion. “We really did it.”

Y/N smiled, their heart racing. “We did. And we did it together.”

Azzi pulled them close, her lips meeting Y/N’s in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. It was a moment they would remember forever, not just because of the championship, but because it was theirs.

Paige, KK, and the rest of the team cheered around them, but for a few moments, it was just Azzi and Y/N—two players who had come together to achieve something incredible, who had faced every obstacle and overcome it, and now stood on top of the basketball world.

As they pulled away, Y/N rested their forehead against Azzi’s. “I love you.”

Azzi smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair out of Y/N’s face. “I love you too.”

Paige walked up to them, her eyes shining with pride. “You two are unstoppable. So happy for you both.”

KK joined in, giving them both a high-five. “Champions! You guys deserve this.”

Azzi grinned at Y/N, her fingers lacing through theirs. “We all deserve this. But this is just the beginning.”

With that, the UConn team celebrated their victory together, knowing that they had earned their place in history. And for Azzi and Y/N, this championship was more than just a win—it was the start of their future, both on and off the court.

The championship was over, but the bond between Azzi and Y/N was just beginning. They had achieved everything they had set out to do—together. As they stood there, surrounded by their teammates, they knew that this moment would be the first of many they would share as a team, as a couple, and as champions.

With the victory behind them, they were ready for whatever came next.

Or maybe they weren’t…

______________________________________________________________________

The days in UConn were slipping by quickly, the final stretch of the season creeping ever closer. Y/N had been playing the best basketball of their life, impressing coaches, teammates, and scouts alike. But as much as they loved their time at UConn, there was an undeniable feeling that a new chapter was waiting for them.

It had come from a conversation that had started with an unexpected email. A contract offer.

One morning, after practice, Y/N sat in their dorm room, staring at the email in disbelief. It was from Basket Landes, one of the top professional teams in France. They had watched Y/N play all season and, after much consideration, wanted them to join their roster. The offer was a dream come true, and the idea of taking their career to the next level in France was tempting. Especially if they can reach the international stage after that.

Y/N’s excitement was tempered by the weight of what they had just signed: a contract with Basket Landes. They had made the decision with the best intentions, believing it would be the next step for their career. But telling Azzi about it had been harder than expected.

When Y/N first shared the news with her, they’d hoped for a reaction of support, pride, and excitement. But instead, the conversation felt strained, and Azzi’s voice held an undercurrent of sadness that Y/N couldn’t ignore.

“You’re really going? To France?” Azzi asked, her tone flat, as if the shock of it all had hit her like a freight train.

“Azzi, I know this is sudden. I just… it’s a huge opportunity for me” Y/N said, trying to explain, but their words fell short.

Azzi paused, taking in the news. “I get that, but… we’re just supposed to be doing this together, right? I didn’t think we’d be so far apart.”

The words hung heavy in the air between them. Y/N could hear the hurt in Azzi’s voice. It wasn’t that Azzi didn’t want them to chase their dreams, but the distance felt impossible to ignore.

“I’m sorry” Y/N whispered, feeling guilty for the sudden separation.

The conversation drifted, and despite the promises to make it work, there was a sense of unresolved tension. As the days passed, the couple barely spoke, the distance not just geographical but emotional, too.

Y/N buried themselves in the intensity of life with Basket Landes, practicing hard and trying to adjust to their new routine. But there was a constant ache in their chest, a feeling that something was missing.

______________________________________________________________________

A month passed, and though life in France was busy and exciting, Y/N couldn’t shake the distance between them and Azzi. Azzi had stopped reaching out as much. The texts were sparse, and when they did speak, the conversations felt forced. Both of them had retreated into their own worlds, unsure of what came next.

One evening, during a team dinner at Basket Landes, Yohana Ewodo nudged Y/N playfully. “You look like someone just broke your heart. What’s going on?”

Y/N gave a faint smile, but it didn’t reach their eyes. “It’s nothing, just… trying to adjust here, you know?”

Sixtine Macquet raised an eyebrow. “Adjusting, huh? Or is it something else?”

Y/N sighed, setting down their fork. “I miss her. Azzi and I… we’re not talking much lately.”

Clarince Djaldi-Tabdi looked sympathetic. “That sucks, honestly. But hey, you’ve got us here, and we’re not going anywhere.”

Marie Pardon gave a knowing smile. “And when Azzi visits, I’m sure we’ll all get to hear about how ‘whipped’ you are. I mean, the way you talk about her…” she teased, making Y/N blush.

Yohana laughed. “Yeah, we know you’re all about that Azzi life. But we get it. Relationships are hard when you’re this far away.”

Just when Y/N thought they couldn’t stand the distance any longer, a message from Azzi popped up on their phone. It had been a week since their last conversation, and Y/N had been growing increasingly frustrated and confused about where they stood.

Azzi’s message was simple: “I’ve been thinking a lot. I miss you. Can we talk?”

Y/N’s heart raced. After weeks of silence and a painful month of uncertainty, Azzi was reaching out. They quickly typed out a response. “Yes, please. I miss you too. Let’s talk.”

The call came a few hours later, and when Azzi’s face appeared on the screen, it felt like a weight had been lifted.

“I’m sorry, Y/N” Azzi started, her voice quieter than usual. “I didn’t handle this well. I was hurt, and I let that get in the way of us. But I’ve realized that I don’t want to lose you over something like this. I love you.”

Y/N exhaled, feeling relief flood through them. “I love you too, Azzi. I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I had to do this for myself. I didn’t want us to drift, but I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

Azzi smiled softly. “I get it. And I’m proud of you. I just didn’t know how to handle the distance. But now… I want to work through it. Together.”

They both sat in silence for a moment, taking it all in. There was still a lot of distance between them—physically, emotionally—but the connection that had once brought them together was still there.

“I’m flying out to see you soon,” Azzi said suddenly, her eyes lighting up. “I’m not letting this go. I want to be there for you. For us.”

Y/N grinned, their heart swelling. “I can’t wait.”

______________________________________________________________________

A few weeks later, Azzi arrived in France to watch Y/N’s game for Basket Landes. Her visit was like a balm to Y/N’s soul, and the moment they locked eyes at the airport, it was as if all the tension, all the uncertainty, melted away.

After the game, as the team celebrated the win, Azzi stood off to the side, waiting for Y/N. The moment they caught sight of each other, Y/N ran across the court, dropping their bag and wrapping their arms around Azzi in a tight hug.

“Missed you so much,” Y/N whispered, their voice thick with emotion.

Azzi pulled back slightly, her hands cupping Y/N’s face. “I missed you too. I’m so proud of you. You’re killing it here.”

The team watched from a distance, grinning at the PDA. Yohana leaned over to Sixtine and whispered, “Looks like they’ve got it all figured out now, huh?”

Sixtine nodded, smirking. “I knew it was just a matter of time before they’d be all over each other again. It’s hard to stay mad when you love someone that much.”

The girls of Basket Landes exchanged knowing glances as Y/N and Azzi shared a soft kiss before turning to join the team.

“Alright, alright, lovebirds,” Marie teased, “Save some of that for later. We’ve got a game to celebrate, and we all know how whipped you are, Y/N.”

Y/N laughed, rolling their eyes. “You guys are impossible.”

Luisa Geiselsöder joined in. “But you’re so cute together, we can’t help it. Glad to see you two worked things out.”

Y/N smiled, the warmth of their teammates surrounding them. It felt like a weight had been lifted—not just from their relationship with Azzi, but from the pressure of trying to balance a new life in France with their own ambitions.

As they walked off the court, hand-in-hand with Azzi, Y/N felt a renewed sense of peace. Despite the challenges and the uncertainty, they knew they would make it work. They had each other, and that was enough.

In that moment, everything felt right again.

______________________________________________________________________

The months in Basket Landes had been nothing short of magical. Y/N had found their stride, playing alongside a team that was as close as family. The first season in France had been a whirlwind of highs and lows, but it was capped off with something they had always dreamed of: a championship win.

The win was a testament to their hard work, dedication, and the support from their teammates, like Myriam Djekoundade, Clarince, Luisa, and Leila Lacan, all of whom had become not just teammates but true friends.

But just when they thought life couldn’t get any better, another surprise came their way.

It was a typical day of practice when their phone buzzed with an email notification. At first, Y/N barely glanced at it, thinking it was just another team update or a sponsor’s message. But then they saw the subject line: “France National Team – Olympic Call-Up”.

Their heart skipped a beat as they clicked open the email. The French national team had officially called them up for the Olympics.

Y/N froze, staring at the screen in disbelief. This was the opportunity of a lifetime—something they had dreamed of since they were a child. But even now, with the offer in front of them, they couldn’t quite process it. They had just finished a fantastic season with Basket Landes, and now the Olympics? It felt like a dream.

Y/N couldn’t contain their excitement, and they rushed to find Azzi, who was finishing up a workout in the gym.

“Azzi! Azzi, I got called up!” Y/N practically yelled as they burst through the door.

Azzi looked up in surprise, eyes widening as she took in Y/N’s excited expression. “Called up? For what? What are you talking about?”

“The French national team, Azzi!” Y/N couldn’t stop grinning. “They’ve asked me to join them for the Olympics!”

Azzi’s jaw dropped, and then a wide smile spread across her face. She crossed the room in seconds, pulling Y/N into a tight hug. “Oh my god, babe, this is huge! I’m so proud of you!”

Tears welled up in Y/N’s eyes as they held onto Azzi. “I can’t believe it. This is everything I’ve worked for. And now it’s happening.”

Azzi pulled back, her smile softening. “You deserve this. You’ve worked so hard, and I’m so happy for you.”

Y/N looked into Azzi’s eyes, feeling an overwhelming sense of love and gratitude. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Azzi. You’ve been my rock through all of this. I’m going to make you proud.”

Azzi kissed their forehead, a tender gesture. “You already have.”

______________________________________________________________________

As the news spread among their Basket Landes teammates, the teasing and excitement began. Everyone was thrilled for Y/N, but they couldn’t resist poking fun at how far their star player had come.

“You’ve really made it now, huh?” Destiny Slocum teased, giving Y/N a playful nudge as they walked into the locker room. “First a championship, now the Olympics? What’s next, a statue?”

Y/N laughed, rolling their eyes. “Come on, guys. It’s just a call-up. Still gotta prove myself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Louise Bussière chimed in, “We all know you’re going to crush it. Don’t forget us when you’re rubbing elbows with all those famous players.”

Sixtine leaned in, smirking. “Don’t worry, Y/N. We know you’ll still have time for us when you’re an Olympic gold medalist.”

Yohana added with a grin, “Just don’t forget to bring us all some Olympic swag when you’re there, alright?”

Y/N chuckled, shaking their head. “I’ll bring you all back something. But first, I need to survive this training camp.”

As the teasing continued, Y/N couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Basket Landes had become home, and these women were more than teammates—they were family. Their support meant the world.

Later that evening, after a celebratory dinner with the team, Y/N and Azzi walked back to Y/N’s apartment together. The excitement was still buzzing in the air, but there was a quiet, intimate moment between the two of them as they settled on the couch.

“You’re going to be amazing in the Olympics, Y/N,” Azzi said, her voice full of pride. “I’m so happy for you.”

Y/N leaned in, cupping Azzi’s face. “I couldn’t have gotten this far without you. You were always there, supporting me, even when things were tough.”

Azzi smiled, her eyes soft. “And I’ll be there when you bring home that gold medal.”

Y/N kissed her softly, the tender moment wrapping around them like a warm blanket. The uncertainty, the distance, the challenges—they had all faded into the background. This was their moment.

“I’ll miss you when I’m away” Y/N whispered against Azzi’s lips.

“I’ll be cheering you on every second,” Azzi murmured, pulling Y/N closer. “And when you get back, we’ll celebrate together. I promise.”

______________________________________________________________________

As Y/N packed their bags for the Olympic training camp, their Basket Landes teammates rallied around them one last time, offering their congratulations and support. Marie and Clarince gave Y/N a big hug before they left.

“We’re so proud of you. Go out there and show them what you’ve got,” Clarince said, her voice full of emotion.

“Don’t forget us little people when you’re an Olympic star,” Marie teased, but there was nothing but sincerity in her words.

Y/N laughed, feeling the love from their teammates. “I’ll never forget you guys. You’re all a part of this.”

______________________________________________________________________

As Y/N boarded the plane for the Olympic training camp, they felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. The journey was just beginning, but everything they had worked for was within their reach.

And through it all, they knew one thing for certain: they had Azzi by their side, cheering them on every step of the way.

This was their dream, and nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to stop them from reaching it.

______________________________________________________________________

The Olympic Games had been a whirlwind of highs and lows for Y/N. After months of grueling preparation, the time had finally arrived for their team to play in the gold medal final against the mighty USA. The Arena de Paris was filled to the brim with fans cheering for France, and Y/N, now a key member of the team, could feel the weight of the moment. The crowd’s energy was electric, but they were focused. They had trained for this. Every drill, every practice, every sacrifice had led to this game.

Azzi, KK, Paige, and the entire Basket Landes team had flown in to see Y/N play, standing by the sidelines, ready to show their unwavering support. The weight of the moment didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, especially knowing that they weren’t alone in this journey. The love and support from Azzi made everything seem possible.

______________________________________________________________________

The final was intense—USA and France battled relentlessly, with both teams showcasing their immense talent. Y/N played a phenomenal game, as did Leila, who had also been called up to the Olympic team. But with only seconds left on the clock, it was clear that the game was slipping from their grasp. The score stood at USA 67, France 66 as the final buzzer sounded. A wave of disappointment swept over the team, as they realized they had fallen just short of winning the gold.

For a moment, Y/N stood frozen on the court, feeling the weight of the loss. Their teammates were already gathered, trying to console each other, but Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of missing something that had meant so much. As they walked off the court, their gaze met Azzi’s from the stands. Azzi gave a small, reassuring smile, her eyes saying everything that words could not. There was pride in her gaze, and she would be there to support them no matter the outcome.

After the game, as emotions ran high, Sabrina Ionescu walked over to Y/N, the player from the USA team, who had played an incredible match. As they stood by the locker room, Sabrina spoke up. “Hey, you played amazing out there. You deserve this,” she said, offering a genuine smile. “I’d love to swap jerseys with you if you’re up for it.”

Y/N smiled, a mix of emotions swirling within them. “It’d be an honor.”

They exchanged jerseys—Y/N now holding the USA jersey, a symbol of the fierce competition they had just fought—and for Sabrina, receiving the France jersey from one of the brightest stars in the game.

______________________________________________________________________

After the Olympics ended, Y/N and their teammates flew back to their lovely town. Though the sting of the loss was still fresh, the pride they felt in earning silver was undeniable. Luisa, who had also played brilliantly throughout the tournament, had secured the third-place medal for Germany, and Y/N together with Leila (who contributed immensely), they celebrated their collective success.

But what awaited Y/N at the apartment wasn’t just the quiet reflection of their Olympic journey—it was a celebration of what they had accomplished, and they were about to be surrounded by the people who had supported them all along: Azzi, Paige, KK, and the girls from Basket Landes.

The door swung open, and the first thing Y/N heard was a chorus of cheers. “Surprise!” Louise and Sixtine grinned as they popped open bottles of champagne. “We’re here to celebrate—Olympic silver is no small feat!”

Y/N grinned, feeling a surge of warmth as Azzi wrapped their arms around them, holding them close. “You were incredible,” Azzi whispered. “I’m so proud of you. Gold or silver, you’re a champion to me.”

As the night went on, laughter filled the apartment. The Basket Landes team took it upon themselves to tease Y/N in the most loving way.

Destiny leaned in, winking. “Okay, Y/N, now that you’ve got Olympic silver, when’s the parade for us in Basket Landes? We need a celebration of our own, huh?”

The entire room erupted in laughter. Myriam playfully added, “Well, at least now you’re one step closer to having as many medals as Azzi!”

Y/N rolled their eyes, though they couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, I see what this is. I leave for a few weeks, and now you’re all turning into comedians?”

Marie laughed. “We’re just trying to remind you that we’re still the OG squad. Don’t forget who got you here!”

The banter continued, with teasing and laughter flowing freely. The support from the team was palpable, and Y/N realized just how lucky they were to be surrounded by such an amazing group of people. And then there was Azzi, who stood by them through it all—celebrating the victories, comforting in the losses, and always showing love.

______________________________________________________________________

As the evening wore on, the celebration became more intimate. Azzi and Y/N found a quiet corner of the apartment, away from the noise of the party.

“Come here, you,” Azzi whispered, pulling Y/N close. Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss, and for a moment, the world outside faded. It was just the two of them, holding onto each other, letting the love they shared heal the sting of defeat.

“I’m so proud of you,” Azzi murmured against Y/N’s lips. “This is just the beginning. I know next time we’ll get that gold.”

Y/N smiled, their heart full. “Next time,” they whispered back. “But for now, I’m just happy to be with you.”

______________________________________________________________________

As the night came to a close and the group celebrated the success of the Olympics, Y/N couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. They had earned silver at the most prestigious sporting event in the world, they had Azzi by their side, and they had an incredible team waiting for them back in Basket Landes.

Though the game had ended in defeat, Y/N knew that this was just one chapter of a much larger story. They had come so far, and there was no limit to what they could achieve next. With Azzi and the Basket Landes girls by their side, and the promise of more victories to come, Y/N felt ready for whatever the future held.

It wasn’t about the gold. It was about the journey—and the people who made it worthwhile.

The night ended with a toast to Luisa, Leila, and Y/N—the three players who had given everything for Germany and France had emerged with medals to prove it. But most importantly, it was a celebration of love, friendship, and the unbreakable bonds they had formed along the way.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

like silence but not really silent

Another Magnus Archives fic from my little mundane AU! This one turned deeply, deeply self indulgent because of Bad Things Happening in my personal life so I make no apologies! Only thanks to @minky-for-short for all the encouragement with this AU in general!

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3 if you enjoyed this! (It is formatted a little nicer over there into the three separate chapters)

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Three moments from Jonathan Sims' life, spent on the same beach in his hometown of Bournemouth.

Three moments of quiet.

----

One

The world was too loud for Jonathan Sims. 

That was what his daadi would tell him, in a soft voice that didn’t do much to hide the disappointment like a cloth worn too thin to conceal what lay underneath. After the police would leave, their halfhearted concerns about Jon’s welfare muffled under cups of tea and homemade cardamom biscuits, after the headteacher would let them leave her office, everyone well aware how little had been achieved in that latest meeting, she would take his face in her hands, look him in the eyes and say it to him as she stroked a thumb across his cheek. 

It wouldn’t be an accusation, not really, or an attempt at comfort. It would just be a statement of a fact that made life harder, a geography textbook’s explanation for floods or earthquakes or volcanic eruptions, something he just had to accept, just like the fact that everyone saw him as a girl no matter how many times he tried to correct them or tell them the name he’d decided for himself. The world is too loud for you, beti.  

But daadi never told Jon what he could do to fix it. He was left to figure that out for himself. 

The closest he’d found to a real answer was down on the beach. 

Not that Jon had ever left Bournemouth to confirm this but, if he did, he imagined people sighing romantically at the idea of living there. They’d imagine it like residing in a postcard, the sea a perfect watercolour blue, the sand a butter yellow, the sunshine washing over everything all the time. The reality was very different. Postcards didn’t show the dense crowds that gathered on any day with a little sunshine, the rain that fell the rest of the year, the litter all those people left behind to blow across the grey sand like decorations left behind after a party. Or how the amusements always looked more than a little sad when the streets were empty, their garish paint peeling and their tinny songs becoming a headache. 

So when Jon told his daadi he was going down to the beach- if he bothered telling her at all- he didn’t mean the same beach everyone pictured when they thought of Bournemouth. He avoided that place like the plague. The world was too loud for him so he needed somewhere that felt like it wasn’t part of the world at all, somewhere everyone else had forgotten so completely that it felt disconnected from everything else. He meant his beach. 

It was hard to get to, especially for a pair of ten year old legs, involving a long walk along the striped cliffs of clay and sand, a perilous half climb, half slide down a particular face to find a little closed off bay tucked safely behind the curve of the land. Away from the wind and the rain and, more importantly, the rest of the world. It was a pebble beach rather than sand, the seaweed washed up thicker, the gulls were always screeching overhead but Jon didn’t mind. He would pack a book or two in his rucksack, whatever snacks he could find around the house, an extra jumper, a raincoat, everything he needed to maximise the amount of time before he had to come sloping back to civilization. He would tuck himself into the little natural caves and read, he would skim stones in the water, he would take off his socks and shoes and walk through the little shore, finding crabs and starfish and sea snails.

There he could be Jonathan for real, not just in his head. 

Whenever he went there, he could feel the weight on his chest lift with every step he took away from the town proper, finally able to take a deep, full breath once he’d staggered down onto the little scrap of a beach. 

Today, it felt like it had come just in time, a few seconds before he would have suffocated. 

Jon scrubbed at the burn in his eyes that definitely wasn’t tears, silently begged his chest to stop heaving, his shoulders to stop shuddering. Now it was quiet, now he could actually think, his body finally listened. He took the rising, overwhelming emotion he’d carried all the way here, packed it into a box and shut the lid tightly, sent it away to somewhere far from here. Jon gulped down those things that weren’t tears, feeling such a sense of relief as the sea resolved in front of his eyes and became clear. He counted the whitecaps he could see, digging his fingers into the pebbles under his knees to feel their reassuring rattle and clack. 

He was here. He was in his one quiet place, the one place he belonged, the one place that knew he was Jon and accepted it without question. 

Once the steady roll and crash of the waves on the shore had cleared away the panic, Jon shifted to sit cross legged on the stones. He felt wrung out, hollowed, the way his favourite jumper had gone all thin and unravelled after he’d tried to put it in the washing machine. He couldn’t even find the anger anymore, there was just nothing. 

Just the aching, echoing gap left behind when he just didn’t understand. 

Jon’s stomach had already been a writhing mess of snakes as he’d walked out of school. They’d ended the day by working on making family trees, all the other students settling in excitedly for an hour spent with the colouring pencils. They moved around Jon, ignoring him as per usual, laughing and chattering away about whatever it was kids his age were supposed to talk about when they had someone to listen. 

He’d been left to sit and stare at the name that everyone kept telling him was his, scrawled at the bottom of the template, his eyes following its dark lines up to the many branches with their own spaces for other names to go. Names he didn’t know. Names he’d never get to know. A whole family tree that had withered and died before he’d even gotten a chance to learn what the word even meant. Just him and his daadi, who already had a bad chest and doctors visits written onto the calendar in the kitchen that she didn’t want to talk about. When she went away, like his papa and his mama, his name would be completely and totally alone. 

That’s when his eyes had started to blur and burn. 

Miss Andi had done her circuit of the classroom, the only person to notice Jon sitting there, frozen under the weight of the grief he didn’t know how to hold. She’d been kind, of course, speaking in her soft voice, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to, dear, you can go read in the corner if you like . 

But her voice hadn’t been quite soft enough, the other children had still heard her, that damning sympathy carrying over the waves of chatter somehow. And then he’d felt the prickle of eyes on his back, wide stares like Jonathan Sims was just something behind a thick pane of museum glass and a little white card explaining just how sad and lonely he was. Though the card would probably call him the wrong name too.  

He’d fled to the reading corner, even if none of the books there interested him anymore. He’d just needed to hide his face. 

Maybe it was that tight, storm in the stomach feeling that had made him do something so stupid as standing up to those older kids. Most of Jon’s mind had still been running fruitless, frantic laps around the base of that blank family tree, he hadn’t even noticed his feet changing direction, striding towards the knot of hollering secondary school boys.

Jon’s voice hadn’t been nearly as forceful as he’d hoped for, it didn’t come along with the comic book style speech bubble announcing the arrival of a hero that he’d envisioned. But the boys had been surprised enough by anyone, even a stammering ten year old girl to their eyes, daring to tell them ‘stop’ that they’d turned regardless. 

Jon had seen a glimpse of the stray cat they’d been tormenting, the same one those boys always went after when they saw her, just because she didn’t belong to anyone and they knew they could get away with it. A black streak fled between their legs the second she saw her chance, darting between some wheelie bins and disappearing. He’d felt a moment’s fierce pride, the solid certainty that he’d done the right thing. 

Until it ended the same way that feeling always seemed to. With a heavy, painful thump as his legs were swept out from under him and he went crashing down. 

Jon’s eyes were burning again. They weren’t tears but they really stung as they rolled down his face and into the scrapes on his cheeks, the split lip. He could tell himself that taste on his tongue was the salt in the air, that he couldn’t hear his own ragged, sobbing breaths over the scream of the gulls. He was alone, nothing else had to matter. 

He didn’t have to think about how silently angry daadi would be about the blood on his collar and the rusty brown trail that had dripped down his front, how it was another school shirt and jumper ruined that they couldn’t afford to replace. Though of course the skirt he hated was unscathed. He didn’t have to think about how he’d pass those boys who’d seen him cry, again and again in the tight little maze of their streets, running and hiding from them like the poor cat. How he was sitting at the bottom of that bare and empty tree, completely alone, trying to take shelter in a world that was too loud for him. 

So he decided it was a good thing. What other choice did he have?

Jon stood up, wiping his eyes, his jaw tight and determined. If the rest of the world wanted to chase him away then he’d let it. They could keep their noise and their rules that didn’t make sense, their expressions he couldn’t read, their cruelty and their wide eyed staring. He would just stay here forever and never go back. He’d sleep on a bed of seaweed, catch fish and eat seagull eggs, never having to hear another human voice full of anger or pity or disappointment or confusion.

Of course Jon knew it was a childish fantasy, something out of a Robinson Crusoe book he constructed to make himself feel better, to get the same kind of release as throwing pebbles at the cliff face to shatter. The reality was inescapable. He didn’t have any clothes or food or books with him, daadi would call the police when he didn’t come home before the sun went down, just like she always did. They’d find him as he trudged his way home, stomach growling and his whole body shivering with the cold, defeated. 

But he also knew something else, deep down inside himself in a place he hadn’t explored yet.  The place where the adult man he’d be one day was growing, half formed but crystallising slowly. That part knew he didn’t need to become a hermit on a beach to make sure he’d be alone. That he could choose it for himself, build up walls that didn’t need to be physically real to do the job. 

As Jon walked up and down the beach, the life he painted for himself in his head was imaginary but the decision he made was very, very real. 

He didn’t know how to fix the world. He didn’t know how to fix himself. 

So he would just spend his life alone. 

At least then it would be quiet. 

Two

Jon had known it was going to feel strange, going down to the beach again.

There was no other way to feel, putting his feet in furrows he’d worn into the ground a long time ago, finding he still knew exactly where to step, when to turn off, where to go. Even after saying goodbye to this place years before, so sure he’d never see it again, discovering that the way had never really left him, that he hadn’t excised his childhood as neatly as he’d thought. Of course it was going to feel strange. 

Jon just hadn’t expected something else to feel stranger. Because it wasn’t just walking in his own, smaller footsteps. 

It was looking back over his shoulder to see who followed him. 

“I thought you said you used to do this when you were a kid?” Martin’s voice was wheezy around the edges from the hike across the cliffs, but the indignation in it was clear. 

It made Jon laugh, worth the mouthful of his own hair he got as the wind whipped around them, “I did. Nearly every day.”

“Didn’t know you were part mountain goat…” his boyfriend grumbled.

Jon grinned at that, hesitating so Martin could close the gap between them. He caught his hand as soon as he was in reach, sliding their cold fingers together like two cogs in a machine that had always been meant to sit next to each other.

It was early enough in their relationship that little things like that were still surprising Jon. How natural it all felt, how their bodies fit together in small ways, how their personalities that had once seemed so different now threaded together and made something good. Something really, really good actually. 

He wondered if he’d ever stop being surprised by it, however long this thing between them lasted. 

He would hardly call it a small thing but the only reason they were even standing here was because of Martin. Jon had never thought he’d go back to Bournemouth, certainly not after his daadi passed away. The idea had always made him feel sick, like the feeling of pulling off a bandage while knowing it would make the wound scream with pain and look disgusting. 

But they were on a little road trip of sorts, driving down to Daisy’s hometown for her and Basira’s wedding. When Martin had realised how close they’d come to a piece of Jon’s own history, he’d suggested a visit with such a hopeful expression that Jon found himself caving far sooner than he’d ever expected, despite trying his best. 

He’d pointed out they could only spare a few hours, that there was really nothing to see, there was no one who would even recognise or remember or be too pleased to be reminded of him. None of it put Martin off. He’d driven them here with an unmistakable excitement, like someone following a treasure map to a treasure trove. Jon didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was going to be more of a cursed ancient temple situation. 

Of course they’d pulled up to a sky like slate and a sea the colour of a stagnant pond. Immediately the wind found every seam and minute hole on their coats, chilling them to the skin, then down to the bone as periodic showers of that infuriating thin, showering rain randomly fell. The pier and amusements had only gotten older and sadder, decrepit to the point where they’d become more like the setting of a horror movie that was being rather heavy handed with its metaphors. They’d walked up the same tight, claustrophobic streets that had taken a younger Jon home, past his old school, up to a house that looked like his daadi’s while somehow being so different that he couldn’t say he’d ever crossed it’s threshold. 

And every time Jon had turned to Martin to apologise, to promise they could leave straight away and they never had to come back, he’d found him smiling. 

He’d asked so many questions, what Jon’s favourite ice cream shop had been, which slightly malformed steed he’d always chosen on the merry go round, what his favourite subject at school was, which bedroom window had been his. Jon had given his answers, even if they’d felt small and sad to him, each one just making Martin smile wider. 

Almost like he’d found the treasure he’d been looking for and it was just Jon himself. 

So when Martin had asked where he used to play, Jon had reached out, taken his hand and asked him to follow him. He’d decided he’d show his boyfriend something real. 

He just hadn’t told him it was at the bottom of a cliff. 

“Jesus Christ, Jon, they let you do this when you were a kid?” Martin yelped, nearly slipping onto his backside as the path took a sharp slope downwards. 

“No, of course not,” Jon looked over his shoulder from a few paces ahead, grinning, “That was kind of the point. It’s not that bad, really…”

“Not that bad!” Martin scoffed before almost losing his footing completely, only saved from a very hard landing when Jon reached out and caught him, “I always thought you’d be the kind of kid who stayed indoors with a book…”

Jon chuckled, deciding it was best to keep Martin’s hand in his as they skidded down the last little part, “Not really. I’m just that kind of adult. See, the beach is right there, keep your eyes on your feet, there we go…”

Jon found himself dropping right into the middle of his own past. His knees ached more as he braced himself against the pebbles but, other than that, the beach hadn’t changed in the slightest. The curve of the shore must have been enough to shelter it from the winds and time itself, keeping it preserved, not a single stone out of place. It felt a little sacrilegious to be disturbing it now, like it had been enjoying its peace before he came lumbering back. 

Or was it glad to see him come back? Did it even recognise him after a decade and change, with a flat chest and short, greying hair and the rough stubble? This place that had always been the one corner of the world where he could escape and feel like he belonged might not even know who he was. 

“It’s beautiful, Jon.”

Martin’s voice was soft and awed, a little much for what really amounted to a skinny strip of grey sand and pebbles, a fringe of decaying seaweed and a few hollows in a cliff wall. But something in Jon lifted when he said it, a kind of relief, a sense that he’d been right to know Martin would understand. That he’d see what this place had been to him, years ago. 

“I always thought so,” Jon smiled, walking to the edge of the sea, where the water made an instrument of the pebbles as it rolled and rattled them against each other, “In a rough, rugged kind of sad way.”

“Well. That would explain your taste in men, I suppose,” Martin hummed, making Jon cackle along with him. 

Again, Jon was struck by the strangeness of having another laugh bouncing off the cliffs alongside his own, when he’d always thought it would just be him alone and the scream of the gulls. 

He picked through the pebbles around his boots, finding one that was suitably flat and correctly weighted. With a flick of his wrist that became familiar as soon as he drew back his hand, Jon sent it skimming across the water. Five times it kissed the surface before running out of momentum, five circles rippling out between the whitecaps. 

Martin whistled appreciatively, “Guess you spent a while practising that when you were a kid?”

“Well, there’s some natural talent involved,” Jon hummed, playfully smug, “But yes. When I wasn’t playing pirates or pretending to be Mary Anning looking for fossils or imagining I was a siren chewing on the bones of washed up sailors…”

Martin grinned, glancing around like he was imagining a younger Jon racing across the stones, wrapped up in his little games and the momentary freedom they brought him. He bent to pick up a pebble of his own, trying to mimic Jon’s arm motion, though his pebble crashed into the water with an anticlimactic plink. 

“See, that's how you can tell I was one of those kids who stayed inside with the books,” Martin gave a self-deprecating laugh. 

Jon smiled, eyes focused on how the ripples from his stone and the ones from Martin’s were joining together, making a harmonious little pattern, a moment of synchronized calm in the middle of the irritable sea. 

“I’ll teach you how to do it, if you like?” he offered, voice soft, “Unless you’d rather play pirates, of course.”

Martin grinned, smiling so wide the freckles in the corner of his eyes bunched up, “Maybe later. For now, how about you perform a miracle and get me to, let's say, three skips?”

Just like all those years ago, Jon felt like he could breathe easier down on the beach. All the sour memories from the town slid away, drawn off by the current, all the doubts that had buzzed in his brain over returning to the home where his name and his true self were things he’d never been able to share were blown off by the wind. Minutes passed by unnoticed, everything suddenly becoming so easy. 

This place still knew him. He did still belong here.

 “Don’t pull back so far, you’ll lose the control…that's it, just by your ear…deep breath…and go!”

The stone wobbled a little in the air and the last skip probably had a lot more to do with a gust of wind than any skill of Martin’s but there were definitely three skips before the stone sank. 

Martin looked stunned, face alight with a mix of surprise and joy, “I actually did it!”

“You did,” Jon tried not to sound too surprised, it hadn’t needed a miracle exactly but it had certainly been a tall order, “I may live to regret giving you all my trade secrets.”

Martin turned to him, eyes soft and hopeful, “And…what about coming back to Bournemouth? Bringing me here? Do you think you’ll regret that?”

Jon paused before answering, not because he wasn’t sure, he just wasn’t sure of the right words. He leaned his head against Martin’s shoulder, again marvelling quietly at how his boyfriend was just the right height for it to fit perfectly. 

“Do I regret bringing you down here? No, not at all. As for the rest of it? It was…nice to have you be interested. I kept a lot of that stuff packed away for a long time, trying to forget it happened but…it didn’t hurt as much as I thought, getting it all back out again. And I’m glad you made me do it.”

Jon felt Martin’s arm wrap around him like a warm blanket, drawing him in so close he didn’t even feel the wind anymore, “That’s what I was hoping for. It’s always going to hurt, digging through the past but I feel like it hurts more to pretend it isn’t there.”

Jon chuckled dryly, “You’ve been reading that book again, haven’t you? Supporting Your Partner’s Healing or whatever it was…”

“Well, it’s working, isn’t it?” Martin mumbled, a blush creeping up his neck over the collar of his parka. 

“It is…and even if it wasn’t, I’d still love you for it,” Jon gentled his tone, finding Martin’s hand and squeezing, “It is strange, though, being here with you. I always came here to be alone, shut the rest of the world out. It was the point of the place, really.”

It couldn’t have come as a surprise to Martin, it probably wouldn’t have surprised anyone who’d known Jon for more than half an hour. But he sounded sad all the same, pulling him in and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. 

“You were all alone?”

Jon swallowed hard against a sudden lump in his throat, “I…I thought I didn’t have a choice. I thought it was the only way someone like me could be. Whenever I tried anything else, it just hurt so…so I decided it was my choice. I acted like it was what I wanted.”

“Funnily enough, I got that impression when I met you,” Martin clearly tried for humour, betrayed by the way his voice broke just at the edge. 

Jon turned his face against his shoulder, smiling even as tears rolled down his own cheeks “But it didn’t stop you, did it? You’re still here.”

“And I don’t plan on leaving, Jon,” Martin breathed, “Not ever.”

He couldn’t quite believe that, not yet. But maybe he would, one day. 

“My daadi always used to say the world was too loud for me,” Jon rasped, “It still feels like that, sometimes. Most of the time, really.”

Martin stroked his hand up and down Jon’s arm, “I know…but it’s quiet right now?” 

Jon took a deep breath of salty air, leaning into Martin’s warmth and counting the waves until his heartbeat slowed and the blood stopped rushing quite so loud in his ears. 

“It is,” he murmured, knowing it would be enough for now. 

In many ways, Jon was still the frightened kid who’d come to this beach to hide, certain it was the only place he could be safe. He still didn’t understand the world, he was still such a long way from fixing himself. 

But right now, it was quiet. 

And right now, Jon wasn’t alone. 

Three

The beach hadn’t changed, it never did. It was a place so disconnected even time had forgotten it, leaving its stones undisturbed and its cliff faces unaging. A year passed between their visits, sometimes two, but leaning over the ragged edge of the world and looking down on it, Jon found it hard to believe.

His beach never changed but Jon did. And he never felt it more than what he was standing here. 

Because he knew the zig zag path down the sandy side of the cliff wasn’t any different from the one he used to run down heedlessly when he was a child, not a care in the world. But he’d never realised how bloody dangerous it was. 

Not until it was his child about to go careening down it. 

“Daddy!” Gertie tugged at their joined hands with a surprising amount of strength for a three year old or maybe Jon was a lot weaker than he should be, “Daddy, lets go!”

Jon bit his lip, eyes following the path warily, wondering how he’d avoided breaking his neck for so long, “We just need to be very, very careful so we don’t-”

Before he could even finish his sentence, Gertie had pulled enough to send them over the edge. They were suddenly running, kicking up clay and sand, Gertie shrieking in delight and Jon choking on a word he really shouldn’t say in front of his daughter. They half ran, half fell, having to just put one foot in front of the other and trust there would be no broken noses or chipped front teeth. For a second, it was almost like flying. 

And, by the time they landed on the stones, Jon was laughing too. 

Gertie didn’t stop, Jon finally letting her hand slip from his so she could rush towards the waves, go on when he was too out of breath to follow. He felt something of his heart go with her, torn away but given gladly. Tears blurred his eyes for a moment, making them burn along with his lungs. 

“I remember you telling me that walk was, and I quote, ‘not that bad’...”

Jon turned, smiling wryly, not bothering to hide the tear rolling down his cheek. Martin gently wiped it away as soon as he was in reach, letting his hand linger on his husband’s cheek. He didn’t ask, he knew he didn’t need to. He trusted that Jon would tell him. 

“Guess I’m old and boring now,” he leaned into that warmth, sighing softly, “Too old and boring to keep up with her, at least.”

Martin pursed his lips, tilting his head in playful doubt, “Are you sure?”

He nodded towards the shore, shifting Jon’s attention to where their daughter was standing, a splash of colour in her bright yellow raincoat and shiny new wellies, stark against the greys like she really had stepped out of those classic postcards. She was waving, buzzing with childish impatience like she’d only just noticed that Jon wasn’t by her side anymore. 

“Daddy, come on!’ she yelled, “You said we could play pirates!”

Martin smiled softly, nudging Jon’s hand, “If you are too old to keep up with her, I don’t think she’s noticed. And she certainly doesn’t care.”

Once again, Jon wondered how Martin did it. How, whenever the world started to twist around Jon and press in too close, Martin would take it and shake it out like a dusty old carpet, brushing away everything that was just Jon’s own fears and anxieties, leaving him with what was real. How he anchored him, holding his hand when the wind threatened to pull him away, showing him where it was safe to put his feet, leading him back to solid ground. 

He didn’t know how he did it and he didn’t know how he was ever going to thank him for it, not just for that, but for everything. So he kissed him, tasting the cold on his lips. And by some miracle that Jon would never understand, that kept being enough for Martin.

“Daddy! Papa! You’re being gross!”

Jon snorted, finding Martin’s gloved hand and squeezing his fingers, “Come on. Let’s go play pirates.”

Time stopped meaning anything for a little while, the oddly comforting, familiar stress of their lives back in London felt far away. Jon had forgotten how easily games had carried him away when he was the same age as his daughter. How a salt smoothed branch in your hands could feel like a cutlass, how being chased by a wave could turn into an enormous shark lunging from the depths to sink his teeth into you, how the barest hollow in a cliff wall could become a snaking warren deep underground, perfect for smuggling imaginary treasure. He’d forgotten that the images his mind created didn’t need to be terrifying, they didn’t need to be something he fought against like a riptide looking to drag him out to sea. 

He supposed it helped when the games weren’t an escape. When you were eager to return to the world you’d left behind. 

Gertie ran them breathless up and down the beach, only coaxed to stop and take a break by their picnic, a tupperware box of her daddy’s cardamom cookies and a sandwich proving enough of a pull. Jon held her on his lap as she ate, hugging her warmth close against him, face buried in her tangle of auburn curls, just like Martin’s. 

“Daddy,” she hummed, through a mouthful of crumbs, “Why are the pebbles all round here?”

Jon smiled, three years on the planet and she’d not yet run out of questions, “The sea wears them smooth, darling. It’s called attrition, the waves roll them around until all their sharp edges have been rubbed away.”

“Oh,” Gertie hummed, reaching down to grab one, turning it over in her chubby hand as she examined every nick and stripe on its surface, “It makes them very pretty.”

“I think so too,” Jon chuckled, “And it makes them very good for skimming.”

That snagged her attention, her green eyes widening, “Oh! I wanna do that! Can we?”

Jon smiled over at Martin, “Actually? Your papa ended up being the expert on that. He’s way better at it than I ever was.”

Martin snorted, blushing a little, the way he always did when he was given any sort of compliment, “Well. I had a very good teacher.”

“Teach me! Teach me, papa!” Gertie scrambled up, needing both her hands to wrap around just one of her papa’s, trying to pull him to his feet.

Martin beamed at her like he was looking at the sun, clambering up from the stones, “I’m coming, sweetie…are you going to be okay on your own?” he hesitated, turning back to Jon for a moment. 

Jon nodded, hugging his knees to his chest, feeling warm in spite of the cold, “I will be. You won’t be far.”

“Never,” Martin’s eyes softened before letting Gertie lead him down to the shore. 

Their laughter and chatter faded a little, somewhat lost in the rumble of the waves but, just like Martin promised, he never lost sight of them. They looked like a perfect pair, same softness, same muddy red curls, even the same jumper after Martin had enough yarn left over for two. Sitting here, Jon could just wonder how he was ever lucky enough to get two of them. 

He’d always feigned frustration over their daughter coming out as the spitting image of Martin, joking that he could have saved himself nine months of work and just shoved his husband into the Archives photocopier. Martin would always joke right back, batting his eyelids and saying, well, they’d have to have another kid, see if they could get one with some of Jon’s genetics. He’d never mean it, not really, he’d never push his husband about something like that. 

Jon was looking forward to seeing Martin’s face when he told him they were going to find out.

But that could wait until they were back in London, back in their lives. For now, Jon sat and listened to the waves, thinking about the little boy who’d come here to be alone, to hide from a world that refused to understand him and was too loud for him. The little boy who’d built his walls here, thinking he’d have to live behind them forever, that his only choice was between quiet and fear, that there was never any path that would lead to happiness. That he’d never be fixed. 

Jon didn’t know if he was fixed, not completely. But maybe that wasn’t how it worked. Maybe there had always been a place in the world anyway, he’d just needed to be brave enough to find it. 

He knew he couldn’t go back in time and reassure that younger version of himself, promise him it would all be okay in the end, that he would deserve all the joy that would eventually find him. That child was out of his reach. 

But Jonathan Sims could make sure, would make sure, that his own children never had to feel like the world was too loud for them. 

They would never feel like they had to be alone.