#and my criticism wasn’t even about this

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　MIDNIGHT COMPANY

chris sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: While filming a car video, the triplets witness a girl - Y/N - arguing with her boyfriend. When he smashes her phone and leaves her alone at midnight in the middle of a random parking lot, Chris steps in.

WARNING: Toxic relationship, yelling, fighting, being hurt physically and emotionally, manipulation, panicking.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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Y/N didn't meant for things to end up like that.

She really didn't.

She was just walking alongside her boyfriend through the Target aisles, her eyes darting nervously between the shelves and the floor.

But she should know better. He had already been irritated when they left the apartment - something about her taking too long to get ready - and now, every move she made felt like a mistake.

"Stick close." Her boyfriend had muttered, his voice low but firm. His eyes darted around the store, scanning the aisles of brightly colored products with an air of impatience. "I don’t want to spend all night in here."

Y/N nodded quickly, her throat dry.

"Okay."

They made their way down the main aisle, her boyfriend grabbing a few items and putting them into the cart with little regard. It was always like that; he made the decisions, and she just agreed and moved on.

He paused at the end of that same aisle, scanning the shelves with a discerning eye. She lingered a few steps behind, observing.

He grabbed a box of granola bars from the shelf, tossing it into the cart with a louder thud. She winced at the sound, her stomach knotting with unease.

"Why are you standing there? Do you see the cereal we get?" He asked, his tone clipped.

Her throat tightened. She scanned the shelves frantically, her eyes moving over the rows of colorful boxes. She wasn’t sure if it was the green box or the blue one.

"Um, I think..." She started, reaching hesitantly toward one of the options.

"Don’t think. Look." He snapped, already sounding exasperated.

Her hand faltered, and she pulled it back. Her heart was pounding, and her palms had grown clammy against the leather strap of her purse. She wanted to go home.

They turned into the household goods section, where shelves were lined with glass containers, picture frames, and other fragile items. Her boyfriend stopped abruptly, examining a set of drinking glasses with a critical eye.

"Do you think these match the ones we already have?" He asked, holding up a box with pretty crystal wine glasses.

Y/N hesitated, unsure if he wanted an answer or was just thinking out loud.

"I-I think so."

Her boyfriend sighed, setting the box down with a clatter.

"You’re not even paying attention."

"I am." She said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper, desperately searching for his free hand. "I promise."

"Whatever." He muttered, letting her squeeze his fingers once before dropping hers, moving on.

Y/N quickly followed, trying to stay out of his way, her eyes fixed on his tall figure, crossing her hands in front of her body and forcing her brain to pay more attention to anything he touched or pointed out. She couldn't risk him thinking that she didn't care.

As she passed by one of the shelves, her purse brushed against a precariously balanced display of small vases. Time seemed to slow as the first vase teetered, then fell, hitting the shelf below it and sending a chain reaction through the display.

Crash!

The sound was deafening. Glass shattered across the floor, the pieces glinting under the white lights. Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat. She stared at the mess, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest.

"Oh my god. Are you serious?" Her boyfriend hissed under his breath.

She dropped to her knees instinctively, trembling as she tried to gather the pieces with her bare hands.

"I’m sorry." She whispered, her voice trembling and desperate.

"You're fucking nbelievable." He muttered under his breath, loud enough for her to hear.

She stopped for a moment, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. She wasn’t crying because of the spilled glasses. It wasn’t even about the moment itself. It was about the weight of knowing that every mistake she made was a reason for him to get tired of her. To leave her.

"I’m sorry." She whispered, again and again, the words tumbling out of her mouth as though they might undo the damage. "I’m so s-sorry."

But it wasn’t just an apology. It was an instinctive response, born from the fear of making him feel any sort of negative emotion at all. She knew that he wouldn’t brush this off, wouldn’t laugh, and say it was no big deal. He would be mad, and she couldn't let him get mad at her. Not again.

She desperately wanted to shrink herself down into something more digestible for him at that moment. Something he could chew up, spit out, and discard - like gum.

A woman at the end of the aisle glanced over, her expression a mix of surprise and concern. A man on the opposite side peeked around the corner, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

Y/N’s face burned with humiliation. She felt their stares on her, for sure, full of judgment. Her hands fumbled over the shards, shaking too hard to pick them up properly.

Her boyfriend crouched down beside her, his expression now unusually calm. His hand landed on her shoulder, but the grip was firm, bordering on painful.

"Y/N, honey, stop. You’re going to hurt yourself."

"I’m sorry." She whispered again, the tears on her eyes starting to burn her orbs with the force she used to stop the drops from escaping. She couldn’t let him see her break. She’d learned the hard way that crying only made him angrier.

"Stop it." He said more firmly, moving his hand through her arm, grabbing her wrist and pulling her hand away from the glass. He looked up at the people looking back at them and forced a polite, almost apologetic smile. "She’s... a little clumsy. Always has been. Right, honey? I know you didn’t mean to. You can’t help it, can you?"

Y/N stiffened, her stomach churning. She forced her head to move up and down, the movement coming out almost robotic.

"You’re just... distracted. All the time." He continued, his smile cold and tight. "That’s why these things happen. You can’t focus."

She wanted to argue, to tell him that she wasn’t some careless mess, but the words died in her throat. What good would it do?

"Here." He said, taking an empty cardboard box near them and shoving the pieces to the side with it, taking it all out of the way. "There. Fixed. See?"

She nodded, swallowing hard.

"Now, get up."

She stood, her knees wobbling slightly as she adjusted the strap of her purse. He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her skin.

"It’s okay." He continued, speaking louder now so the others could hear. "She just gets a little overwhelmed sometimes. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of this."

The man at the end of the aisle nodded, giving her boyfriend a small, understanding smile. The woman pursed her lips and turned away, muttering something about how 'accidents happen'.

"Let’s go." He said through clenched teeth as he started walking toward the exit.

"But-"

"No." His voice was low, but the warning was clear. He smiled tightly at the few remaining onlookers as he dragged her past them.

Her face burned with humiliation, but she kept quiet, her eyes glued to the floor. His grip tightened when her feet seemed to disobey her brain, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.

The automatic doors slid open, and the cool night air rushed over her, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside her head. Her boyfriend’s pace didn’t slow, his hand still gripping her skin as he led her toward the parking lot.

Her heart was pounding, her thoughts spiraling into chaos. She felt like a child being scolded, small and powerless, her voice locked somewhere deep inside her throat.

When they reached the car, he finally let go of her arm, shoving her away as if she were a piece of garbage. She stumbled slightly, catching herself against the side of the car, waiting for whatever came next.

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From the other side of their spot in the parking lot, the triplets were parked, their van slightly away from the main entrance. It was Wednesday night, and they were filming their weekly video, the interior of the van alive with yells and laughter.

"... No, seriously, people do that sometimes." Chris said, turning slightly towards Matt while trying to prove his point. "Patches O'Houlihan, he did that."

Matt scoffed, looking at him with an 'are you serious?' look.

"From Dodgeball? The fictional character?" He laughed incredulously, looking at Nick through the rearview, ready for another weird thing to come out of Chris's mouth.

Nick's attention, however, wasn’t on him - or them, for that matter. It was on the world outside. He always had a habit of scanning his surroundings, probably in a way of caring for himself and his brothers.

As Chris kept going, earning a loud groan from Matt, Nick’s eyes caught movement across the parking lot, almost exactly in front of their van. Near one of the parked cars, a couple stood in the golden glow of a streetlamp.

Nick’s stomach twisted. Something about the way the guy loomed over the girl, his gestures sharp and erratic, immediately set off alarm bells. The girl was visibly distressed, her arms crossed over her chest, her posture shrinking with every second.

Without thinking, Nick leaned forward and slapped Chris on the shoulder, interrupting him.

"Nick, what the-" Chris began, turning sharply, his annoyance evident.

"Shut up." Nick hissed, his voice low but firm, cutting through Chris’s protest. He nodded toward the couple. "Look."

Chris frowned but followed Nick’s gaze, his expression shifting from irritation to curiosity and then to concern. Matt, who had been in the middle of adjusting his hoodie, leaned closer to the windshield.

"What’s going on?" Matt asked, his voice quieter now.

Nick didn’t answer, instead reaching for the button to lower his window, easing it down. A faint, angry voice carried into the van, growing clearer as the man’s yelling intensified.

"... do you even understand how embarrassing you are?"

The girl stood frozen, her arms clutching her sides as though trying to hold herself together. Her head was bowed, her hair shielding her face from the world. She didn’t respond, didn’t dare to look up, and that only seemed to fuel his anger.

"What the fuck?" Matt muttered, leaning forward slightly to get a better look, his eyes glued to the scene.

"You think I’m joking?" He snapped, stepping closer to her. "You think I enjoy having every pair of eyes in that store on me because you can’t manage to walk without causing a damn scene?" The man continued, stepping closer to her.

Her response was so soft that it barely reached the triplets’ ears.

"I’m sorry..."

"Sorry?" The man laughed bitterly. "You’re always sorry. You’re sorry when you spill coffee, you’re sorry when you trip over your own feet, and now you’re sorry for knocking over half a shelf like a goddamn child?"

The girl flinched at his words, biting her bottom lip while taking a small - almost imperceptible - step back.

Chris tensed after watching her reaction, his jaw tightening.

"This guy’s a piece of-"

"Chris, shush." Matt snapped, his voice low.

"I told you before, didn’t I? Stop acting like a fool every time we’re out in public. This is for your own good." The man spat.

"I didn’t mean to-" She started, but he cut her off quickly.

"Shut up!" He barked, his voice echoing across the lot. She shrank back, her body trembling. "You know better than to talk back to me." He growled, taking another step closer.

"I wasn’t-"

"Stop talking!" He barked, his voice echoing across the empty lot probably louder than intended. "Every time you open your mouth, you make it worse. Do you even understand that? Or are you too stupid to figure it out?"

Tears accumulated inside her eyeballs, shining below the lights.

"Look, I’ll call an Uber, okay?" Y/N murmured, her voice cracking. "You can go home and calm down. Please."

"Oh, you’ll call an Uber? Sure, let’s waste more of my money on your screw-ups." The man’s laugh was sharp and bitter.

She reached into her purse, her hands shaking as she pulled out her phone, unlocking it and trying to search for tha app, being harshly interrupted when the man snatched the device from her grip with such force that she stumbled.

Chris shifted uncomfortably, his fists clenched on his lap.

"Do we step in?"

"I don't think we should, not right now." Nick whispered.

"Give it back. Please, baby." She asked, her voice weak, trembling.

"Why? So you can text your little friends about what a terrible boyfriend I am?" He sneered, holding the phone high above his head.

Y/N's mouth dropped open, her wet eyes widening as if he had just committed the worst crime.

"Baby, please." She begged, her tears now falling freely, causing her voice to break. "I would never ever do that. I love you so much, you know that, right?"

He ignored her. With a single, violent motion, he hurled the phone to the ground. The sound of glass and plastic shattering against the pavement echoed in the silence.

She recoiled as though the blow had landed on her instead of the device, a squeak involuntarily escaping from her mouth. Her arms wrapped tighter around herself as she stared at the broken pieces. Her whole life, broken.

"Should've had taken that shit from you sooner." The man spat, shaking his head. "Pathetic. Can’t do anything right."

Matt and Nick exchanged horrified glances through the rearview, Chris's face pale by their side.

"P-please, don't leave me here, baby. I love you, I'm so sorry." The girl begged, gluing her hands in a praying gesture in front of her body. "I promise I'll do better."

"I can't even look at your face right now." The man shook his head. "I need some time, okay?" He didn't wait for an answer before storming off to the driver-side of his car, slamming the door and speeding out of the lot, tires screeching against the asphalt.

Y/N stood frozen, her trembling figure illuminated by the lights and the moon.

Chris didn’t think. One second, he was staring at her, and the next, his hand was on the van door handle, yanking it open.

"Chris!" Matt hissed from the driver’s seat. "What are you doing?"

"Chris- what the fuck?!" Nick added, his voice urgent but not loud enough to stop him.

But Chris couldn’t wait. He couldn’t sit there any longer, watching this girl suffer alone.

He bolted from the van, the cool night air hitting him like a slap, but he barely noticed. His long strides carried him across the parking lot, his heart pounding not from his pace but from pure urgency.

"Oh my god, he's crazy!" Matt’s groan echoed from behind him, but it was distant, like background noise.

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

The closer he got, the more his stomach churned. Her face was streaked with tears, her cheeks blotchy and raw from crying. But she wasn’t just crying. She was panicking. He could see it in the way her hands trembled uncontrollably, and in the way her breath came in short, sharp gasps.

Chris slowed as he approached her, not wanting to startle her. She was staring at the exit of the parking lot, her wide, unfocused and tear-filled eyes locked on the gate arm as though it was the only thing anchoring her to the ground.

"Hey." He said softly, his voice gentle but firm.

She flinched, her head snapping up, and her gaze locked on him as she took a step back. For a moment, she looked utterly terrified, and Chris's throat tightened.

He quickly held his hands up, palms out, trying to show her he wasn’t a threat.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay." He said quickly. "I just... I saw what happened, and I wanted to check if you’re okay."

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, a fresh wave of tears spilled down her cheeks. She shook her head, taking another step back, her back almost hitting the metal post of the streetlight.

"You don’t have to be scared." Chris said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. I just want to help."

She looked at him again, her watery eyes studying his face as though trying to figure out if he was lying.

Chris took a cautious step closer, keeping his movements slow.

"You’re shaking." He said gently. "It's freezing out here. Can I... can I give you my hoodie?"

She blinked at him, her brows furrowing slightly.

"Why?" She croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because it’s cold, and you’re upset, and I’d feel better if you weren’t standing out here like this." Chris said honestly, shrugging off his hoodie - ignoring how the hairs on his arm fully stood up with the cold air - and holding it out to her.

She hesitated, her eyes darting from his face to the piece of clothing, then back again.

"It’s okay." Chris reassured her. "You don’t have to take it, but I promise it’s clean. And warm."

After what felt like an eternity, she slowly reached out and took the hoodie from him. Her hands were trembling so much that she almost dropped it, but she managed to pull it to her chest, pressing it against her covered skin.

"Thank you." She mumbled, her voice shaky.

Chris exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

"Of course. What’s your name?" He asked in a soft tone. "I'm Chris."

She blinked her eyes at him, frowning, clearly surprised by the question.

"Y-Y/N." She said hesitantly.

"Y/N." He repeated, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "It’s really nice to meet you... Um, do you want to sit down? You look like you need a second."

She looked around the parking lot again before nodding slowly, and Chris gestured to the curb nearby. He waited until she sat down before taking a seat a few feet away, giving her space but staying close enough that she wouldn’t feel alone.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"I’m fine." She finally said - even though it wasn't what Chris was expecting to hear, her voice cutting through the silence, hoarse and shaky.

Chris tilted his head slightly, his brows furrowing.

"I don’t think you are."

"I am." She insisted, but her voice cracked on the words, betraying her.

Chris turned his face slightly to the side to meet her eyes, curving his upper body, trying to make himself seem less imposing.

"I know you don’t know me. Well, only my name now." He said softly. "But I can tell you’re not fine. And that’s okay. You don’t have to be. Not after that."

She bit her lower lip hard, and for a second, Chris thought she might break down again. But instead, she straightened her spine, her trembling hands wiping at her tear-streaked face.

"It's not as bad as it looked. He was just angry." She said quietly, almost as if she was saying that to herself. "It’s not his fault. I... I messed up."

Chris’s heart sank at her words.

"You didn’t mess up." He said firmly, his voice laced with conviction.

She shook her head, her hands gripping the fabric of his hoodie tightly.

"I did. I dropped something, broke it, actually. It was stupid, and it drew attention to us, and... and he doesn’t like that. He was just trying to make me understand."

Chris stared at her, his chest tightening painfully.

"That’s not okay." He said softly. "No one should treat you like that, no matter what happened."

"You don’t understand." She said, her voice rising slightly as she hugged herself tighter. "He just... he gets frustrated sometimes, but it’s because he cares. He doesn’t mean to be mean."

Chris’s jaw clenched, a mix of anger and sadness boiling inside him.

"Love isn’t supposed to be like that, Y/N." He said gently. "It’s not supposed to hurt you and leave you standing in a parking lot crying, shaking, and alone."

Her eyes filled with fresh tears again, and she looked away, staring at the ground as if she couldn’t bear to meet his gaze.

"You don’t know him." She whispered, shaking her head vehemently.

Chris wanted to scream, to grab her shoulders, and shake her until she understood that what she was describing wasn’t love. It was control, manipulation, and abuse. But even though he had never helped a victim of a toxic and abusive relationship before, he knew he should keep his voice calm, so he did it, maintaining his tone soft and steady.

"You’re right." He said. "I don’t know him. But I know what I saw, and I can only imagine what it feels like to have someone make you think you’re the problem when you’re not."

Her head whipped toward him, her eyes narrowing.

"You don’t know anything about me."

Chris held up his hands.

"You’re right again. I don’t. But I’m not here to judge you. I’m here because I want to help. No strings, no expectations. Just... let me help. I can't leave you alone here for the rest of the night."

She shook her head again, her hands trembling as she brushed her hair out of her face.

"I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this. It isn't fair to him. He’d be so heartbroken if he knew."

Chris watched her for a second too long.

"But you deserve to talk to someone." He finally said. "You deserve to feel safe."

"I am safe!" She snapped, her voice ringing out in the empty parking lot. The declaration sounded hollow, as if she was trying to convince herself more than him.

Chris took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second.

"I just want to help you." He said, his tone pleading. "Do you have someone you can call? A family member, a friend? You can use my phone-"

Her reaction was immediate and panicked. She shook her head furiously, her eyes wide with fear as her body tightened, seeming ready to stand up and run.

"No! No, I can’t call anyone."

"Why not?" Chris asked gently, though his heart was racing, his eyes traveling quickly to his car where his brothers were before going back to Y/N. "They’d want to help you, just like I do."

"I said no!" She cried, her voice cracking. Her breathing was shallow and quick now, teetering on the edge of hyperventilation. "You don’t understand. I can’t just call someone. And you... you need to go. God, you shouldn’t even be here."

Chris frowned, his brows knitting together.

"Please, I’m just trying to-"

"You don’t get it." She interrupted, her voice hushed but frantic. She glanced around the parking lot as though expecting her boyfriend to be there somewhere, watching them. "He’s going to come back. And if he sees you here, if he thinks... you need to leave. Now."

Chris’s stomach dropped at the sheer terror in her voice.

"Y/N, he won't hurt you in any type of way while I'm here with you. I can promise you that." He moved a bit closer again, careful not to make any sudden movement. "Let me do something for you. Anything, please."

"You can’t." She whispered, her voice barely audible. "No one can. Please, just go. He’s going to be here soon, and I-I can’t let him see you."

She was holding onto that story like it was a lifeline, but the way her hands trembled and her breath hitched betrayed her doubt.

"What if he doesn’t?" Chris asked gently. "What if he’s not coming back tonight?"

Her face fell for a brief moment before she quickly masked it, straightening up.

"He will." She said, though there was no conviction in her tone. "He always does."

Chris nodded, looking around dismissively.

"Okay. Maybe he will. But just in case... maybe you could let me help you. You don’t have to trust me, I get that. I'm a stranger. But let me offer you something. A safe place to wait."

"I don’t have anywhere to go." She admitted, her voice so quiet it was almost lost in the night air. "Just our house. And I don't think I should go back there now."

Chris’s heart twisted at her words and how uncertain they sound, but he kept his expression neutral, careful not to show pity.

"Okay." He said softly. "Then maybe you can just... talk to me. You don’t have to get in my car. We can sit out here. I’ll stay right here in the open where you can see me."

She hesitated, her eyes darting to the ground.

"Why do you care so much?"

Chris crossed his legs above the pavement, relaxing his posture further.

"Because I know what it’s like to feel like you’re on your own." He said simply. "And because I don’t think anyone should have to go through something like this alone. You don’t deserve that."

She hesitated, her gaze watching her hands above her thighs.

"I won’t call the police unless you want me to." Chris added. "I won’t push you to do anything you don't want to do. But you don’t have to deal with this alone."

Her lip quivered, and she closed her eyes tightly, her voice barely a whisper.

"I don’t even know what I’d do."

Chris’s heart ached for her, but he kept his tone steady.

"How about this." He said. "I’ll stay with you until you figure that out. If you want, I can take you to a hotel, or I can help you find somewhere else to stay for the night. But whatever you decide, I’m not going to leave you here."

She was silent for a long time, her shoulders rising and falling with each shaky breath. Finally, she nodded, just once.

"Okay." She said.

Chris exhaled slowly, relief washing over him.

"Okay." He echoed.

For the first time that night, she looked at him fully, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and cautious hope.

He opened his widest smile in response, leaning back slightly with his palms against the curb behind his back and glancing up at the sky.

"You know." He started, his tone casual. "This isn’t exactly the way I imagined spending my Wednesday night."

Her eyes scanned his face carefully, frowning, feeling like she was the one to destroy his day - or night.

"What do you mean?" She asked hesitantly, her voice hoarse.

Chris shrugged, being careful not to mention his career. He didn't want to overwhelm her.

"Well, usually on Wednesdays, I’m sitting in my van with my brothers, arguing over who gets to pick the fast-food spot. We’re probably debating something ridiculous, too."

That earned him the smallest, almost imperceptible twitch of her lips. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was something. It encouraged Chris to continue.

"My brothers are idiots, by the way." He said, his tone light. "Don’t tell them I said that, though. They'll get big heads thinking I actually pay attention to their nonsense."

Her brow rose slightly, curiosity tugging at the edges of her expression, her body instinctively leaning towards him.

"What are they like?"

Chris chuckled, throwing his head to the side, laying his cheek against his shoulder and looking at her eyes.

"They're amazing. Weird, but amazing. They're so funny in their individual way, always making me laugh so hard that sometimes I feel like I could pass out."

This time, she let out a soft, breathy laugh, and Chris felt a flicker of warmth in his chest. It was small, but it was progress.

"You’re close with them?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah." Chris said, nodding. "It’s hard not to be when you all live and do everything together. But they’re good guys. Annoying as hell, but good."

She looked down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting with the frayed edge of his hoodie sleeve.

"Must be nice." She murmured.

Chris’s smile faltered for a moment, but he recovered quickly.

"It is." He admitted. "But, you know, we fight sometimes. Like, really fight. Last week, Matt threw a punch at me because I wouldn’t stop talking during his game."

Her lips twitched again, and this time, it was a small, shy smile.

"What were you saying?" She asked, her voice soft but carrying a hint of amusement.

"Oh, some random shit. Can’t even remember now. Probably something embarrassing, knowing me." Chris grinned. "Matt said I was ruining his concentration, but honestly, I think he just doesn’t appreciate my brain work."

She shook her head slightly, her smile lingering.

"You’re ridiculous." She said softly, almost reflexively, but as soon as the words left her mouth, her expression shifted. Her body tensed up, her shoulders pulling in as her eyes darted to him in alarm. "I didn’t mean-"

"Guilty as charged." Chris smoothly interrupted her, opening a smirk while looking at her, trying to express through his eyes that it was okay. "But, hey, if ridiculous is what it takes to make you laugh, then I’m all in."

Her looked down again at the pavement, scraping her shoes over the small rocks.

"Thanks." She said quietly.

"For what?" Chris asked, his voice gentle.

"For... keeping me company." She said, her gaze fixed on her lap. "I don’t feel... as bad right now."

Chris felt a lump in his throat but pushed it down, keeping his tone light.

"Anytime." He said. "I’ve got a whole arsenal of dumb stories and good jokes if you need them."

She looked at him then, her eyes softer than before.

"You’re really nice." She said, pressing her lips in a fine line.

Chris shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

"I just don’t like seeing people hurt." He said honestly. "And, I don’t know, you seem like someone who deserves a lot better than... all this."

Her eyes filled with tears, and for a moment, Chris thought she might start crying again. Instead, she took a deep breath and nodded.

"Thanks." She said again, her voice steadier this time.

Chris gave her a warm smile.

"No problem. Now, how do you feel about bad puns? Because I’ve got a killer one about a duck and a lawyer."

Her laughter filled the cold night air, causing a large smile to stretch across Chris's lips. He would do everything in his power to help this girl.

[dreamerwriternstargazer]

Something I like to note in my interaction with media is always “am I taking this as education, or inspiration?”

And that’s the important difference I believe.

If your worldview was opened and inspired by AT:LA, if you (assuming you’re a very privileged, sheltered adult I guess) learnt about say revolutions and genocide and imperialism and so on and so forth for the first time from AT;LA and it inspired you to read more articles and more reliable sources of media to gain a proper perspective, grounded in reality? That’s actually pretty great

If you refuse to interact with political content beyond a child’s show, beyond the very simplified representation of censorship in Ba Sing Se, beyond Zuko’s redemption arc/efforts in recovering from abuse, beyond the wipeout of the Airbenders and their culture, then we have a problem

Stories… are fiction, but they can teach a little, not a lot, a kernel of truth, and that is enough to serve their true purpose of inspiration.

Yes there’s such incredible skill in these stories, in Suzanne Collins’ biting and fiery allegory for the Hollywood machine (and reflection of the extremely corrupt class system + political empire of the US), in Princess Mononoke’s sincere heartfelt plea for environmentalism and balance between nature and humanity

But they are not the be all and end all. Miyazaki did not write Howl’s Moving Castle to teach you to lock yourselves out of the wider political environment around you, to passively call for pacifism as bombs are dropped by those you know, nor was it written to encourage you to condemn every leader or war started. It was written to present his perspective and personal anger over the Iraq War, writing a film he “felt would be poorly received in the US” (Wikipedia) Yes the story it’s telling you of pacifism and integrity is important, but as inspiration, it will not and should not be your guide to war. What is important here is what it could lead you to read, hell if you were as enchanted and interested as I was by this movie then it could lead you right back to the context, the reason for it being written. This could then lead you to researching the Iraq war, to learning why Miyazaki felt strongly, to look at further criticisms against the Bush administration.

That’s what it did for me. I didn’t know anything about American politics, but while studying the story for some other reasons (Heroine’s Journey related of course) I noticed why pacifism was an important theme. It wasn’t enough to get me interested, American politics weren’t necessarily linked to me (or at least that’s the default I submitted to thinking) but it opened my mind a bit. Okay huh that’s interesting, keep a note on that

It’s a note that then got added to when I read several Tumblr posts on issues with the Bush administration, then others on America and its founding. It got added to further when I learnt about Israel and Palestine, and then given some emotional, moral context as I learnt of Israel and Palestine and the atrocities occurring there and how many were likening it to what America did in Iraq and Afghanistan (since I really was too young to remember or think critically over them when they were going on)

There’s still so much I don’t know, I’m so young and even younger in my political knowledge.

What’s important is that as I grow the sources of information grow with me. Stories are important for so much, they are empowering and cathartic, a way to challenge you and inspire you, they are an expression, a call to arms, a hug around your shoulders on cold rainy days, but you cannot and should not live on a diet of fairytales and fantasies.

only reading ya or only watching kids shows is tremendously destructive to your ability to create or understand fiction (as any extremely narrow fiction intake is) but also ultimately that is not a super important skill in life or indicative of any deficiency of character

[sonicpositive]

MASSIVE Sonic 3 spoilers, don’t click on if you haven’t seen it. I need to infodump about one specific scene.

—

I wanna talk about the Super Sonic and Super Shadow fight scene, which may I say, was one of the COOLEST things to come out of the Sonic series thus far.

It posed the question, who would win? Super Sonic or Super Shadow?

It straight up told us the answer, with Shadow saying “you’ve won, so finish it!”

But Sonic didn’t win. I don’t think he would win that fight regardless. I think Shadow said that and gave Sonic an opening to kill him to prove a point.

Even while still on Earth, Shadow was goading Sonic about how they were alike, how Sonic was acting out of anger the same way he criticized Shadow of doing. He was trying to push Sonic to a breaking point. He brought up and mocked Tom, there’s no way he wouldn’t expect to be hit for that. At MOST, maybe he was caught by surprise, or underestimated Sonic, but I think he left himself open on purpose. Shadow is too skilled of a fighter to make that mistake.

Then Shadow, on the moon, tried to goad Sonic into killing him, “finishing” it. He stayed down, but I don’t think he was out or done fighting. We see that he wasn’t beat because of the Eclipse Cannon fight later. I think he feigned being beat to prove to Sonic that he does not have the moral high ground; Sonic can be dragged to the depths of anger, despair, revenge, and violence over something painful happening the exact same way Shadow was. And Sonic proved that Shadow was wrong about him.

Regardless, I think this perspective lends a lot to Shadow’s character as a whole, and his rivalry with Sonic. Though they hadn’t known each other long in this continuity, Shadow believes he is better than Sonic in every way. Even in the context of the movie, he probably sees Sonic as some naive, incredibly cocky and powerful kid who acts like he knows what’s right when he can’t even fathom what Shadow has been through. Shadow has to show that he’s better than him. That even when Sonic thinks he’s won, even in their most powerful form, Shadow still will rise above him.

And yet, Sonic still surprised him and proved him wrong. Because Shadow so firmly believed in his righteous pursuit of justice and revenge as the only way to go, until Sonic chose not to finish the fight and kill him.

And then, as annoying as he finds Sonic, he can respect him because he showed Shadow a way he hadn’t even considered. There’s something to be admired in that level of optimism, even if ultimately, Shadow still believes he’s better than Sonic.

Anyway, this concludes my analysis. Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk.

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

THIRD TRIMESTER

Word Count: 1.1K

Pairing(s): Reader x Rafe 

Warnings: Stress and anxiety during pregnancy

Summary: Rafe defends you, pregnancy stress causes emotional pain

The third trimester had come faster than you anticipated, and with it came a series of emotions, both overwhelming and beautiful. You were now heavily pregnant, your body changing in ways that made you feel like you were barely holding onto yourself, but all the while, Rafe was there, supporting you through every step. The two of you had recently moved into a new house, a small but cozy place where you could begin your life together as a family. It was everything you’d dreamed of—well, almost everything.

-

There was still the issue of Rafe’s father, who hadn’t made it easy on you. From the moment you found out you were pregnant, he’d been openly critical of your decision to start a family so young.

“I don’t know why you’d want to keep the baby. You’re barely out of high school,” his voice echoed in your mind as you sat on the couch in your new home, wrapping your arms around your belly. “And you think you’re ready to raise a child? Wait until you see what comes out of her, Rafe. She won’t even look the same, and it’s not like she’ll go back to being skinny after all that. You really want to deal with that?”

You could still feel the sting of his words, even now. It wasn’t the first time he’d said something hurtful about your pregnancy, but it always hit hard. Rafe had defended you every time, but it never seemed to be enough to quiet the doubts you had. His dad’s comments made you second-guess everything, even your own self-worth, even when you knew deep down it wasn’t true.

Rafe had been there, as always, but that didn’t stop the growing anxiety within you. Every time his father would make a comment, it would take everything inside you not to cry or snap back. But today, something inside you broke. You had been unpacking boxes when you overheard another comment from Rafe’s dad, and it sent you spiraling. You knew Rafe wasn’t home, so you found yourself collapsing on the couch in tears, holding your belly as your emotions threatened to take over.

Just as the pain of the words sank deeper, the door to the living room opened, and Rafe stepped in, looking concerned. His eyes softened as soon as he saw your face, tears streaking down your cheeks, your hands clutching your stomach in distress.

“Baby?” he whispered, kneeling down in front of you. “What happened?”

Through shaky breaths, you tried to explain. “I just... I just can’t take it anymore. He keeps saying I’m too young, and it’s like he doesn’t believe I can do this. He’s always saying that things are going to change after labor, that you won’t even look at me the same way... I feel like I’m not good enough for this baby.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched with anger, but his face softened as he gently cupped your face in his hands. “Listen to me, okay? You are everything I could ever need. You’re the mother of my child, and nothing—nothing—will change that. Not the way you look, not what happens after labor. You could go through the toughest thing in the world, and I would still love you with everything I have. Don’t let him get in your head.”

You looked into Rafe’s eyes, your heart aching at his words, but the anxiety and emotional turmoil didn’t subside. You couldn’t stop crying. You wanted to be strong, but everything just felt so heavy. The emotional strain was overwhelming, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get a grip on yourself.

Rafe’s protective instincts kicked in. His voice was steady but urgent as he pulled you into a tight embrace, rubbing your back soothingly. “It’s okay, baby. Take a few deep breaths. We’re okay. I’m here. The baby’s okay.”

But as you tried to steady your breathing, it felt impossible. You couldn’t calm down. The tears kept coming, and your chest tightened painfully. The stress had taken its toll, and you could feel it radiating through your body. Your heartbeat was erratic, and your baby seemed to be reacting too. The panic only deepened.

“I can’t breathe,” you gasped, clutching your chest, the pain intensifying. You were hyperventilating, tears streaming down your face. “Rafe, it hurts. I don’t know what to do.”

Rafe’s eyes widened in fear as he frantically grabbed his phone. “I’m calling an ambulance. It’s going to be okay, just stay with me.”

Within minutes, the paramedics arrived and rushed into the house. They assessed the situation quickly, asking questions and checking on both you and the baby. Rafe was by your side the whole time, holding your hand tightly, his face pale with worry.

Once you were in the ambulance, the pain started to subside, but your body still felt weak and shaky. The journey to the hospital felt long and suffocating, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep fear of what might be happening to you and the baby.

At the hospital, the doctors quickly ran tests, checking the baby’s heartbeat and your vitals. They explained that what you were experiencing was likely a panic attack, brought on by stress and the emotional pressure you had been under. It wasn’t something to be alarmed about, but they strongly advised you to stay calm in the coming weeks to prevent any further stress on the baby.

“You need to take care of yourself, both physically and emotionally,” the doctor said gently. “The next few weeks are crucial for both you and the baby. Stress can affect your health and the baby’s development. You need to avoid any situations that could increase that anxiety.”

Rafe was at your side, holding your hand tightly as the doctor finished speaking. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll make sure she’s calm. I’ll keep her safe.”

You felt the sincerity in his voice, and although you still felt a little shaken, hearing him promise to be there for you made everything feel a bit more manageable.

As you were discharged and brought back to your new home, Rafe stayed close, making sure to comfort you and help you get settled back on the couch. He insisted that you rest, assuring you that everything would be okay. You couldn’t help but smile faintly at his care, feeling more grateful than ever that he was by your side.

“Don’t worry about anything else, baby,” Rafe said softly as he kissed the top of your head. “We’re in this together. I won’t let anything happen to you or our little one.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Personality Idioms

to describe your characters

All Brawn and No Brains - Refers to someone who’s strong and muscular, but not very intelligent.

Armchair Critic - People who pretend to know a lot about something, but really don’t know anything about it at all; those who sit back and criticize the way you do something without getting up and helping out. There’s a little armchair critic in all of us. Have you ever criticized an athlete’s performance (or, more likely, a ref’s call)? Or judged a dancer or singer on a reality TV show?

Born with a Silver Spoon in one’s Mouth - Means you come from a wealthy family with a high social position. The spoon you actually use these days probably isn’t a great indicator of your wealth, but in the Middle Ages, only commoners used wooden spoons. This idiom speaks more to the spoon-bearer’s personality than just their social status: Entitled, naive, presumptuous. All the qualities you’d expect of someone who wasn’t allowed to leave the palace walls.

Butter wouldn’t Melt in his/her Mouth - Describes someone who appears demure, innocent or sincere, but is actually unkind and devious. It’s saying you’re so cool and collected, that you wouldn’t even be warm enough to melt butter.

Doubting Thomas - A skeptic who refuses to believe something without personal experience or physical evidence. The idiom comes from apostle Thomas (Didymus), who did not believe Jesus had risen from the dead. He said to the other disciples: “Unless I shall see in His hands the imprint of the nails, and put my fingers into the place of the nails, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe.” While being skeptical and demanding truth are wonderful qualities to have when learning new things, constant doubters can also come off as being overly critical or looking down on others’ beliefs.

Dyed-in-the-Wool - Describes a person’s deeply ingrained political, cultural or religious beliefs. It comes from the fact that when wool is dyed before it is woven, the color is less likely to fade. In the positive sense, you could be a dyed-in-the-wool sports fan, meaning you’re faithful to your team, even when they suck. But, it can also mean you are unwilling to be open to other ideas or beliefs because of how ingrained you are in your own opinions.

Long in the Tooth - Means someone's old. This idiom likely comes from the practice of examining horses’ teeth to determine their age. It’s generally an unkind or humorous way to refer to people who do something they seem too old for.

Shrinking Violet - An exceedingly shy person. This idiom is typically assigned to girls, but who’s “Violet?” The poetic origin of this idiom was describing the flower, not a girl. Sometimes, this idiom is used as “she’s no shrinking violet,” which describes a woman who is outspoken and not afraid to express her views.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[gensideas]

LOVE IN THE SPOTLIGHT

summary Y/N Sánchez, daughter of Roselyn Sánchez, appeared on Jimmy Kimmel with her fiancé, Drew Starkey. While Y/N spoke confidently about her career, Drew couldn’t hide his admiration, often losing focus as he gazed at her. His lovestruck demeanor contrasted with Y/N’s composure, creating a sweet and memorable moment that left fans swooning over their undeniable chemistry.

features Fiancé!Drew Starkey x Fiancé!actress!reader

The bright lights of the studio shone down on me as I adjusted the hem of my flowing emerald-green dress. It hugged my figure perfectly, a piece from a designer who had insisted I wear it to highlight my poise and grace. But I wasn’t thinking about the dress or the cameras pointed at me. I was thinking about Drew Starkey, my fiancé, sitting just a few feet away. His piercing blue eyes followed my every movement, a soft smile playing at his lips.

Being the daughter of the legendary actress Roselyn Sánchez, I was a rising star in my own right. My breakout role in a critically acclaimed drama had catapulted me to the spotlight, and now I was the name on every producer’s lips. Despite my rapid ascent, I remained grounded, thanks in no small part to Drew, whose quiet confidence and unwavering support made him my anchor.

“We’re ready for you,” a producer’s voice called.

I gave Drew a quick glance. He gave me a reassuring nod, though his gaze lingered a bit too long. My beauty had always captivated him, but tonight, under the soft glow of studio lights, I felt otherworldly.

The interview set was elegant, with plush chairs and a backdrop of shimmering gold curtains. I took my seat beside Drew, the host across from us. The audience clapped enthusiastically, the excitement palpable.

“Good evening, everyone!” Jimmy began, flashing a practiced smile. “Tonight, we have two incredible guests: the stunning Y/N Sánchez and her fiancé, the talented Drew Starkey. Let’s give them a warm welcome!”

The applause swelled, and my cheeks flushed. I glanced at Drew, who was already looking at me, his expression soft and unguarded. He seemed utterly unaware of the cameras or the audience—his world had narrowed to just me.

“Y/N, your performance in Eclipsed Dreams has been called transformative. How does it feel to step out of your mother’s shadow and establish your own legacy?” Jimmy asked.

My smile widened. “It’s surreal. Growing up, I always admired my mother’s work, but she encouraged me to find my own path. It’s been a challenging journey, but I’m grateful for the opportunities and for the people who believe in me.”

Jimmy turned to Drew. “And Drew, you’ve been quite the supportive partner. What’s it like watching Y/N rise to stardom?”

Drew chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly, it’s mesmerizing. She’s incredibly talented, hardworking, and… well, look at her.” He gestured toward me, his voice tinged with awe. “She’s breathtaking.”

The audience swooned, and my face turned a deeper shade of pink. “You’re too much,” I murmured, though the sparkle in my eyes revealed my delight.

“Drew, you’ve built an impressive career yourself,” Jimmy continued. “What’s the key to balancing your own busy schedule with supporting Y/N?”

“Communication and respect,” Drew said. “We both have demanding careers, but we make time for each other. It helps that we genuinely enjoy spending time together—she’s my favorite person.”

“That’s so sweet,” Jimmy said, turning back to me. “Y/N, do you find inspiration in Drew’s work?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Absolutely. Drew is so dedicated to his craft. Watching him immerse himself in his roles motivates me to give my all in my own performances. We’re constantly learning from each other.”

“It sounds like you have a wonderful partnership,” Jimmy said. “One last question: What’s next for both of you?”

I exchanged a glance with Drew before answering. “I’m working on a new project that’s still under wraps, but I’m really excited about it. It’s something completely different from anything I’ve done before.”

“And I’ve got a couple of films lined up,” Drew added. “But we’re also making sure to carve out some time for ourselves. Life is about balance, after all.”

The audience applauded as Jimmy wrapped up the interview. “Y/N and Drew, thank you so much for joining us tonight. We can’t wait to see what the future holds for you both.”

When the cameras stopped rolling, we lingered on the set, chatting with the host and producers. Drew’s hand never left mine, a quiet but constant reassurance.

“You were incredible,” Drew whispered as we walked toward our car. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

“You’re biased,” I teased.

“Maybe,” he admitted, pulling me close. “But it’s the truth.”

We paused under the soft glow of the parking lot lights, the city’s hum around us. Drew cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N. You’re a star, and not just on screen.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I leaned into his touch. “I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

Our lips met in a tender kiss, sealing a moment that felt timeless.

The interview aired the following evening, and social media exploded with praise. Fans gushed over my grace and Drew’s evident adoration. A clip of Drew’s comment about my beauty went viral, earning us the nickname “Hollywood’s Sweethearts.”

As we sat together in our cozy living room, scrolling through the flood of messages, Drew wrapped an arm around me. “Looks like people are just as mesmerized by you as I am.”

“By us,” I corrected, resting my head on his shoulder. “We’re a team, Drew.”

He kissed the top of my head. “The best team.”

And as the night stretched on, filled with laughter and love, I knew that no matter how bright my star shone, it would always shine brightest with Drew by my side.

© gensideas 2024

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER SIX

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur thelightknight21 wc: 18.3k notes: masterlist (sorry, nothing funny today, this chapter and last nights game actually destroyed me) but holy word count who cooked here 😹 i fear the last half of this chap is kinda rushed but writer's block was going crazy and i truthfully only had plans for like THREE (3) specific scenes...if you can't tell, planning, pacing, and the timeline are my biggest opps 😾 but i'm grown so i do what i want!! also, smut warning! if it's not your thing, it's at the very end and you can skip over it without missing anything super important. i'm not a smut writer, i just work here, but i put pen to paper and it just came out (no pun intended) 🤷‍♀️ sorry for making this as long as the chapter itself, but as always, lmk what you think and i hope you enjoy 🫶

‘The Hard Launch Heard Around the World’

For college basketball fans, Christmas has come early this year. On June 21st, Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy’s long-awaited hard launch was finally shared to Instagram after a month and a half of speculation, fan theories, and less than subtle interactions online. Kennedy shared a collection of pictures with the caption “here’s to tess kennedy’s worst kept secret. thank you for coming into my life when you did.” Many of the comments consisted of undecipherable keyboard smashes, such as one commenter’s “TESS AND PAIGE? AJSFKFJKDSJK”, but overall, Kennedy’s comment section was full of congratulations, support, and praise.

Bueckers, similarly, shared a collection of photos, although her caption was a lyric from Frank Ocean’s “Sierra Leone.” If you have been following Kennedy’s journey thus far, you may remember that the first ever soft-launch photo she posted to her story included another lyric from this song. Bueckers’s caption, reading “And her pink skies will keep me warm,” is seen as a call-back to that moment, with many fans accepting this as the confirmation that Bueckers and Kennedy have been seeing each other all along.

Their hard-launch precedes their Bose endorsement. The two of them starred in a commercial showcasing Bose’s newest product, where they became known as Mrs. and Mrs. Bose. Some critics noted how specific the timing was, arguing that their hard-launch was just a stunt to further promotion for Bose’s product, although supporters rallied in defense. Commenters noted that Bueckers and Kennedy spent most of their time this offseason in different states – this Bose ad was the first time they were able to be in person together, so they surmised that it was just the optimal time to announce it. Another fan also pointed out that their history speaks for itself.

Regardless of the timing, one thing is for certain – Bueckers and Kennedy are the next “it” couple. Their influence is beginning to spread outside of the sports world, and many people believe that their openness is going to be pivotal in breaking barriers and promoting acceptance for queer athletes. 

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

JULY 2023

The months after their hard-launch go about as well as anyone could have expected. Once Tess and Paige made it back to Brooklyn and Minnesota respectively, things were…nice. They finished June out strong, in near constant contact and on FaceTime. Tess kept her feelings close to her chest. She knew there was no way Paige was into her in that way. She wasn’t the type to be tied down, and Tess had to respect that – even if she was one for commitment, Tess doesn’t think that she’d be her first choice.

All she can think about is their agreement. Paige had so confidently said that she could do casual. She wasn’t the one who caught feelings. And as far as Tess is concerned, she isn’t sure if her reputation is worth how complicated her life has become. She’s not the one to pretend to be someone she’s not; not the one to pretend to feel a way (or not feel a way about something). Her relationship with Paige used to be something that brought her great comfort, but now she can’t help but feel like she’s ruined something perfectly fine by allowing her feelings to get the best of her. Now, she’s not telling a story to the public or selling a ruse. Bree was right – she is lying to Paige, and that’s the worst part of it all. Paige doesn’t deserve her dishonesty, nor her inability to keep things strictly business as she’d once promised.

So, June was okay. They talked, Tess spiraled, but this is her life now. Tess would eventually have to learn to keep her feelings at bay.

Then July hit.

July was like a blessing in disguise, the perfect opportunity for Tess to work on herself and hopefully get rid of her lingering feelings for Paige. She could get over her. It’s not a big deal. So what if Paige was the first person she’d ever felt romantically for? Tess is new to all of this – she can’t honestly know perfectly what liking someone felt like. The denial wasn’t particularly effective, but if Tess keeps speaking it into existence, then it has to come true, right?

July was when summer practices started back up. Paige flew back to Storrs the first week. Tess was supposed to fly back to Columbia, but given her injury and the fact she wouldn��t be able to contribute much to practices, Coach Staley gave her the all-clear to stay in Brooklyn and soak up as much PT with Terri as she could. Craig was qualified, although the both of them knew Terri had a different approach to rehab than Craig did. 

Paige gets busy almost immediately. She’s fresh off an injury and her role on the team has shifted due to other’s injuries, so she’s swept up into an incredible amount of extra practice, film watching, and learning a different part of the game. Tess gets…the complete opposite of busy. She still does PT three times a week, meets with Yvette, but with Paige gone, all of her free time becomes free again, and she doesn't even know what to do with herself. Fortnite, as stupid as it sounds, makes her think of Paige. Her feelings are still too fresh and the mere thought of the game reminds her of the countless hours she and Paige wasted away on it, laughing, flirting, and celebrating their wins. It’s not a break-up, but it feels oddly like one. Tess used to be stronger than this. That was the worst part.

With Paige’s time being occupied by things out of her control, Tess uses it to her advantage. She tries to get over her, spaces out her responses when Paige does get the time to speak. With her knee in better shape, she tries out yoga. Tess can’t quite master the idea of clearing her mind. Paige’s name echoes like a mantra in her brain, the image of her blue eyes blinding. No matter how hard she tries, all Tess can think about is the pressure of Paige’s lips on hers, the way she’d guided her jaw just how she liked, the weight of her hand on her and the way she was able to feel exactly how she made Tess’s heart race.

She’s so fucked.

It hurts, Tess has to admit. Covering up lies with even more lies. She’s not completely sure what happened to turn her into someone who couldn’t tell the truth. It hurts even more to know that she’s not just hurting herself, but she’s hurting Paige, too, who’s not even at fault for any of this.

Hey I got a couple hours free tonight Facetime? I miss you

[Delivered: 4:32pm]

Are you okay?

[Read: 7:53pm]

sorry, busy tn idk if i can

It’s cool Do you know when you’ll be free?

idk got a lot going on

Okay Call me when you can

[Delivered: 7:54pm]

Tess feels like she’s going to throw up.

AUGUST 2023

Paige doesn’t give up, but Tess can tell she’s losing patience and hope.

She gets a two week break after the end of summer practices, then she and her teammates are heading overseas for their Europe tour. They’re playing a couple of exhibition games. Back in June, Paige had been so excited to send her pictures and tell her all about it, but they’re a day into their trip and she hasn’t heard a word from Paige. It’s for the best. Paige needs to lock in for her games. She can’t get caught up in Tess again.

Tess ends up tuning in for one game. She can’t help herself, even though she ends up turning it off after halftime. There’s a noticeable difference in the way Paige is playing. Tess knows it’s because of her. She’s a little more sluggish, sloppy in her passes, missing a lot more than she usually did. Bueckers, first exhibition game since her ACL injury, the commentator noted. She’s not quite warm yet, but we all know she’ll be on fire once the season starts. Tess knows better than that. It’s her fault.

Still, Paige tries.

You busy?

[Delivered, 5:43pm]

Zagreb is beautiful [3 Attachments] Text me when you can

[Delivered: 6:38pm]

[Read: 9:01pm]

sorry. just got free

It’s okay FT? Can’t sleep

i can’t, have to be up early tomorrow you should get some rest. it’s late

I don’t care I miss you I feel like we never talk anymore Did I do something? Whatever it is I’ll fix it I promise

you didn’t do anything just got a lot going on

Me too

[Read: 9:03pm]

Okay cool 😂 Let me know when you’re not too busy for me Goodnight Tess

[Read: 9:04pm]

SEPTEMBER 2023

July and August were busts – no matter what she did, she wasn’t able to keep her mind off of Paige. Distancing herself wasn’t very effective, but she shouldn’t expect results after two months, right? Maybe she just needed a little more time.

Paige texts her once in September.

I just wanted to say I’m sorry for whatever I did. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable or if there was something I said that hurt you. I meant it when I said you didn’t have to be scared with me. I still mean it. If there’s anything at all I can do or say to make you believe that, please let me know. I don’t like arguing or how we left things and I hate feeling like I’m not fighting hard enough for you. I shouldn’t expect you to drop everything to talk to me. You’re busy and you have a lot going on. Saying what I said was unfair. I’m sorry. But I miss you. Please let me know how I can fix us. I don’t care what it takes. I’ll fly out if I have to, just please don’t shut me out

[Delivered: 2:48am]

OCTOBER 2023

Paige gives up in October. It brings Tess more anguish than she was accounting for.

On the 20th, Tess texts her happy birthday. Paige doesn’t bother reading it. Paige doesn’t post anything for her birthday, either.

Tess wonders if she fucked them up for good.

Maybe it’s better this way.

NOVEMBER 2023

Ghosting Paige wasn’t the right decision at all.

A little obvious in hindsight, but at least Tess can say she tried. Five months apart didn’t magically fix Tess’s problem. It made it worse. She still feels the same for Paige, if not stronger, but affection becomes a difficult pill to swallow when it’s poisoned with guilt and shame. After her injury, she should have learned that pushing people away does more harm than good. Paige didn’t deserve that, but maybe this is who Tess Kennedy is – someone who’s blind to what’s in front of her, someone who leaves when it gets hard, someone who avoids her problems entirely, someone who treats the people she loves like disposable objects. Maybe it was better for Paige to find that out early on before their contract expired and Paige wanted to continue being her friend.

On the 17th, Tess’s birthday, she gets a lifeline.

Happy birthday

Paige’s text is like a knife to the gut. Tess twists the blade herself when she notes the lack of excitement, the lack of emojis. Her message is bland, more like an afterthought, and Tess can’t even be mad – she deserves it. She debates leaving it on delivered, much like Paige had left her message on delivered, if only to spare her from this constant back and forth cycle of will-they won’t-they. But her fingers move faster than her brain does.

thank you

[Delivered: 11:11am]

[Read: 11:11am]

And much to her surprise, Paige responds.

My mom wants to know if you’re still coming for Thanksgiving She bought you an ugly sweater to wear for family photos

There’s a lot of things Tess can say to that. Family photos is enough to make her chest tighten, her stomach roil with anxiety, her throat constrict. It takes everything in her to not break out into sobs, but she bites her lip hard enough to draw blood as she types out her message.

you want me there after these last five months?

Tess doesn’t think that was the right thing to say. Paige types for a long while.

I want what’s best for the story My parents think we’re together We need to keep up appearances

Tess would have preferred it if Paige just left her on read. Delivered. She would have understood if Paige just blocked her all together. She would have preferred if Paige had texted her at any other day, because it’s her birthday, damn it; she’s turning 22 and she’s sitting in her bed crying because this is all she and Paige are, anymore – a story, an appearance to keep up for the sake of their images. But it’s her fault, isn’t it?

i’ll be there

Okay 👍

Tess thinks that’s the end of their conversation until she gets an email. It’s an airline ticket, a roundtrip – she’d be flying out the 22nd and leaving Minnesota early on the 25th. They’re first class. Tess feels like she could throw up again.

you didn’t have to buy my tickets

I promised I would I don’t like breaking my promises

Tess has no retort for that. She sends Paige a half-hearted thank you, not expecting a response, and powers off her phone.

NOVEMBER 22, 2023

Tess spends the entire plane ride nauseous as hell. She dreads her reunion with Paige, knowing that seeing each other will only hurt them more. She’s not even sure if fixing them is possible, but she knows she’ll have to give it a shot. She gets four days with Paige. That should be enough to smooth things over. A part of her knows Paige won’t bend as easily as Kamilla, Bree, and her parents did. Paige was so understanding, but she didn’t take any of Tess’s bullshit. Tess might be making amends until Christmas, if they last that long.

She finishes off the rest of the ginger ale she’d asked the flight attendant for. It does little to soothe the nausea. Guilt usually isn’t something that can be cured with a drink, alcoholic or otherwise. Guilt is one of the things you can’t run away from, even for someone as good at running away as Tess is.

The seatbelt light flicks on as the plane begins its descent onto the Minnesotan soil. Tess’s anxiety returns tenfold. It feels as though time is moving slowly. The plane lands. It idles for a moment, then everyone is standing and reaching for their carry-on. Tess has hers in hand and is walking down the aisle as soon as they click open. It doesn’t take her long to locate her suitcase at baggage claim. Then, she’s back in the crowd, eyes scanning the airport for any sign of Paige. There wasn’t a message on her phone, but she was holding out a little bit of hope.

Instead of Paige, she spots a tall man holding a sign with her name written on it. Tess’s heart all but falls out of her ass as she walks towards him. The realization that Paige didn’t come to pick her up shouldn’t hurt her as much as it does. She should have expected as much. But seeing it brings on a fresh wave of pain that she just wasn’t ready for. The man recognizes her, lowering the sign with a beaming smile, and he reaches out for a hearty handshake. “Hey Tess! I’m Bob, Paige’s dad. It’s so good to finally meet you.”

Tess shakes his hand, smiling at him, and hoping that it’s convincing enough. “Likewise, Mr. Bueckers,” she says. Her voice doesn’t falter, but she can tell she’s about to crash out. She takes a deep breath as Paige’s dad waves his hand.

“Bob is fine,” he corrects her. “C’mon – my truck’s this way. Paige went out to pick up some last minute things for you. She should be back at the house by the time we get there.”

Tess hides her grimace. She’s not fully confident that Paige actually did that, but she’s not going to voice that thought to her dad. The simplest truth of the matter is that Paige just didn’t want to pick her up. Tess can’t blame her.

Once they’re loaded up, Bob makes small talk that Tess tries her best to contribute to. He doesn’t seem to think anything’s wrong, so Tess surmises she must be doing a pretty good job. As he speaks, her mind keeps drifting back to Paige, feeling a guilt and shame so strong that she’s unsure if she’ll be able to feel anything remotely positive ever again. How do you hurt Paige Bueckers? Her heart is made of solid gold, but perhaps the issue is her heart is a few sizes too big for her body. Her heart is bigger than Tess herself; Paige gave her everything, no strings attached, and Tess crushed it into small pieces and stomped it out.

That thought alone makes her nauseous all over again. She was so worried that Paige would hurt her, not the other way around. Life has a funny way of biting you in the ass. Tess wonders how socially acceptable it would be to jump out of your fake girlfriend’s dad’s moving vehicle and leave yourself for roadkill. She determines that it’s probably not very acceptable, so she tries her best to get her shit together while she still can.

The Bueckers’ live in a quaint little townhouse, two-storied and a light beige in color. Bob pulls into the driveway next to two SUV Jeeps – one black and one red. He grins at her, nudging her shoulder. “Paige’s home. You excited?”

Tess almost laughs in disbelief. “Yeah,” she lies. “Haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Well, let’s not keep her waiting.”

Tess will admit she sounds like a broken record, but she genuinely thinks she’s about to throw up all over the Bueckers’ driveway. She adjusts her backpack over her shoulder and pulls her suitcase out of Bob’s truck bed, glances at the door, and takes a deep breath as she follows the older man inside.

Inside, it’s warm and cozy. Tess can distinctly make out the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg. Bob calls out for his wife, who calls back with a cheerful, “In the kitchen!” Paige’s step mom is a tall woman, wearing a festive pair of leggings and an apron over her shirt. She slides off her oven mitts, having just pulled out a pie.

“This is Tess,” Bob states. “Tess, this is my wife, Moe.”

In lieu of a handshake, Moe pulls her in for a gentle hug. “So nice to finally meet you,” she says genuinely. “Paige talks about you all the time.”

Tess’s heart falls out of her ass and she chuckles worriedly, giving the older woman a squeeze. “Good things, I hope.”

“Nothing but,” Moe confirms. “It’s like y’all been together forever. Tess this, Tess that. It’s kind of sickening.”

At Moe’s brutal honesty, Tess laughs, the first genuine one in almost five months. It wasn’t even that funny, but Tess is so far off the deep end that anything helps. “My mom would say the same about me,” she says.

Moe lights up with laughter of her own, grinning widely at Tess. “Alright, I’m sure you’re tired from your trip here. Paige is upstairs. She can help you get settled in. We don’t have a guest room, so you’ll have to bunk with her. No funny business, okay?”

Tess smiles to hide the way her heart stops. She’s shared a room with Paige before. Granted, they had two separate beds, but the room sharing is not an issue. The issue is in how Paige will probably suffocate her with a pillow once night falls. “No funny business,” she agrees, and with one last smile, Moe directs her to the stairs and informs her that Paige’s room is the first on the left.

Tess takes a deep breath before she heads upstairs. She’s been through worse. She tore her ACL, underwent surgery, and crashed out so bad she almost killed herself. She doesn’t bother reminding herself she’s been crashing out for the past five months and she’s in no better shape, but that’s not the point. She can handle Paige. She can say she’s sorry. She knocks on Paige’s door and she hears some shuffling inside before the door opens, and after five months, she comes face to face with Paige once more.

The shift in Paige’s demeanor is noticeably different. Her jaw is tight, her blue eyes unusually dull. Even her body language is far more reserved. She leans against the doorframe, one hand on the doorknob, and her mouth pulls into a natural frown. “Hey,” she says, surprising Tess. Her words lack any bite, but it hurts because her words lack much of anything. If the both of them were five months younger, Tess is sure that Paige would have pulled her into a hug by now, probably whispered an excited, “Hey, ma,” or pressed an affectionate, “Missed you,” into her shoulder.

But they’re five months too late, and all Tess can do is wince as she responds with a quiet, “Hi.”

Paige glances at her, her eyes dismissive and disappointed. She sighs, taking a step back and allowing Tess inside. “You can just leave your stuff over there,” she says, pointing next to her desk where a space has been cleared. Tess does as she instructs, depositing her suitcase and throwing her backpack haphazardly on top. Wordlessly, Paige crawls back into bed, sitting so close to the edge that there’s more bed than girl, which is usually a difficult task for a six foot athlete.

“Is this what we’re doing?” Tess asks softly, her fingers shaking, and she knows she has no business asking Paige that when she was the one who fucked them up.

Paige scoffs, looking up at her again. Her gaze hardens, her lip curling into an unfamiliar scowl. “You had five months to figure that out,” she says harshly. “Don’t ask me shit now.”

Tess laughs weakly, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Okay,” she concedes.

“Something funny?” Paige asks.

Tess averts her eyes. “...No,” she says after a beat. Paige hums, an annoyed noise deep in the back of her throat.

Tess isn’t sure what to do. She’s standing in the middle of Paige’s childhood bedroom, feeling like every bit the fool she undoubtedly looks like. She can’t sit next to Paige, not when she can feel the anger radiating off her in quiet waves. She can’t go back downstairs with Drew and Paige’s parents. They’d ask why they weren’t together, and Tess isn’t sure how much more lying she can take. Paige glances back up from her phone, scanning Tess’s features, and she stands with a huff. “You take the bed,” she says. “I’m gonna get stuff to sleep on the floor.”

“You don’t–”

“Stop,” Paige says instantly, her voice breaking. Tess shuts her mouth, staring at Paige, and she looks agonized. Her eyes are glassy, face pinched, and Tess feels like a jackass all over again. “Just…stop, okay? Stop arguing. I’m gonna get a blanket and the air mattress and I’m gonna sleep on the fuckin’ floor ‘cause I can’t share a bed with you tonight and pretend like everything’s okay. It’ll probably be another five months before I get an apology from you, but that’s okay, right?” She laughs humorlessly, turning on her heel, walking backwards to the door. “S’okay. I guess I was stupid to think anything else. I was right. Tess Kennedy’s too fuckin’ afraid to get close, and when she’s scared, she goes back to what she’s used to. And apparently that’s bein’ an asshole to everyone around her. You don’t get to do that shit with me. Not today.”

Paige slams the door behind her, and all Tess can do is stare at where she stood in disbelief.

Dinner that night is a torrid affair.

Bob and Moe seem to sense that something’s off with Tess and Paige. Out of politeness, they don’t mention anything, but Drew seems none the wiser to the tension at the table. He rambles excitedly about Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow and how excited he is for Christmas. Tess tries to listen to him, she truly does, but she can’t focus on anything but the argument that she and Paige had. Honestly, a better descriptor is just Paige yelling at her and Tess taking it, but that’s neither here nor there.

Tess barely has an appetite, but she shovels her food in her mouth anyways, not wanting to be rude. Paige hasn’t said a single word to her since Moe came upstairs to fetch them for dinner. Even then, Paige hadn’t so much as looked at her. The worst part about it is that Tess understands why. Paige is genuinely a better person than she is. If someone treated her like Tess treated her, Tess would have made it everyone else’s problem immediately. If they thought her post-injury crash out was bad, then they’d be unprepared for the post-ghost crash out.

Bob distracts her from her racing thoughts as he clears her throat. “So, Tess…” She looks up, resembling a deer caught in headlights. “How’s physical therapy going? I saw you rehabbed with a WNBA team. That’s really exciting!”

“Oh,” she says, pushing around a piece of chicken on her plate. “Um, it was really good. Felt like I progressed a lot with Terri. I work with the team trainer now since I’m back in Columbia. He gets the job done, but I do miss the Liberty, you know?” She chuckles softy, willing her nerves to dissipate.

“I bet,” Bob agrees. “When do you get to play again?”

“I should be cleared by March,” she says hopefully. “Just in time for the last March Madness games. Provided we get invited or win the SEC championship. LSU is really strong, so…gotta take it game by game.”

“Smart,” Moe states. “Never count your eggs before they hatch, right?”

Tess nods. The table falls into a tense silence, only the sound of forks scraping against plates filling the room. Paige suddenly huffs. She stands up with her plate, her chair making an awful noise against the floor as she pushes it back under the table. “I needa take a shower,” she says, not waiting for a response. She walks into the kitchen to clear off her plate, walking back through the dining room with a frustrated expression on her face as she rushes upstairs.

Bob and Moe share a concerned glance. It’s Drew who breaks the silence when he asks, “What crawled up her butt and died?” Moe is quick to reprimand him, although it seems like her heart’s not really in it.

Tess clears her throat and stands, too. “Um, dinner was delicious, Moe, thank you. I should uh…probably go check on her.” Moe thanks her quietly. Tess washes her plate quickly, placing it in the strainer to dry off, and she heads upstairs after Paige.

Paige’s door is wide open and Tess walks in cautiously. The blonde rifles through her drawers, pulling a pair of shorts and a tank top out. She’s still pissed. Never in the seven months that Tess has known her has she ever seen Paige be this angry. When Paige turns, seeing Tess behind her, she clenches her jaw and walks out wordlessly. Tess feels her heart drop as she listens to the bathroom door close.

Her chest tightens. She feels like she could cry even though it would do nothing for her. Paige is the only one with the right to be upset. Instead, Tess takes a deep breath, burying her face in her hands for a few, calming moments before she moves to her suitcase and pulls out sleepwear. She scrolls on her phone while she waits for Paige to get out of the shower, and when she finally does, Tess averts her eyes as she stands. Paige doesn’t say anything to her as Tess makes her way into the bathroom.

The water is scalding hot. It makes Tess feel a little more centered, but it does little to wash away the grief and the shame. She tries not to think about it as she cleans herself quickly. She dries off, redresses herself, and when she walks back into Paige’s room, she’s already curled up on the air mattress and is scrolling through her phone. Tess glances at her, frowning, and shoves her dirty laundry into a separate compartment in her suitcase before sliding into Paige’s bed.

Her pillow smells like her. Tess wouldn’t expect anything else, but it makes her feel closer to Paige despite the literal and metaphorical distance between them. Her purple comforter is soft. When Tess looks around, she notes the various posters of NBA greats – Kyrie, Lebron. Diana Taurasi and Sue Bird are also there. Basketball is Paige’s life, her entire reason for breathing. When they lost to South Carolina in the NCAA tournament, Paige was distraught, obviously. But that anger and sadness only pales to what Tess observes in her now as she tries to pretend she can’t hear the way Tess breathes next to her.

Tess takes a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling. “Paige,” she says into the darkness of the room.

Paige doesn’t respond. For a brief moment, Tess wonders if she fell asleep, but she knows better. Paige is breathing too fast to be asleep, coming in uneven bursts. Then, Tess thinks she’s just ignoring her. Then, Paige surprises her. “What do you want, Tess?” she asks, her voice breaking.

“I’m sorry,” Tess says without hesitation.

She hears Paige laugh, but there’s no enjoyment in it. “Are you?”

“I am,” she says. They’re both quiet for a moment. She hears Paige sniffle and her heart breaks all over again. “I mean it. I’m sorry, Paige, I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I shouldn’t have pushed you away when all you’ve done was care for me. I’m sorry for making you apologize when you’ve done nothing wrong. This is all on me and I could sit here and apologize for the rest of my life and it would never be enough.”

Paige shifts on the air mattress. Tess cocks her head, glancing down, and Paige is already staring at her. The moonlight streaming through her windows reflects off of her. Tess could paint her face by memory. She knows exactly what she looks like, where every single freckle or blemish or crease exists. She knows the exact shade of her eyes, the degree at which her nose upturns slightly, the way her nostrils flare when she’s annoyed. Tess could describe Paige Bueckers in such great detail that a blind person could recreate her visage. Until now, Tess has never seen Paige this way. Her lips are pulled in a constant frown, her jaw tight, her eyes a few shades grayer. Tess never wants to see Paige look this desolate, let alone because of her.

“Sorry doesn’t fix anything,” Paige says after a few agonizing moments. Tess deflates. “Sorry doesn’t fix the five months I spent losin’ my mind, wondering what I did wrong.” She studies Tess’s face once more, her lips pursing and her gaze hardening. Paige pulls her blanket up to her chin, flipping on her opposite side, putting her back to Tess.

“How do I fix us?” Tess asks, her voice nearly a broken whisper.

Paige lies unmoving on the air mattress. Tess should know better than to expect a response. But when Paige admits, “I don’t know,” Tess thinks she would have preferred the silence.

NOVEMBER 23, 2023

Thanksgiving is a terrible holiday.

Conceptually and historically, it leaves a lot to be desired, though she can understand how many American families would enjoy getting together in one place, eating a huge dinner, and watching sports. It’s supposed to be a day where everyone can come together and rejoice, tell each other what they’re thankful for and all that sappy shit, but Tess never bought into it. Many of her teammates would complain about going home for Thanksgiving and having to listen to an uncle or two rant about women or politics or whatever the fuck – it always ruined the mood. Tess never thought that those uncomfortable Thanksgivings would be something she had to be subjected to.

When she wakes up in the morning, Paige isn’t in her room. When she goes to the bathroom to splash some water on her face and do her morning routine, Paige isn’t there, either. And when Tess walks downstairs into a flurry of early morning chaos – Moe and Bob rushing around the kitchen and preparing dinner, Drew tidying up the living room – Paige isn’t there either.

“Morning, Tess!” Bob greets happily, grinning at her from where he’s cheffing up the turkey. She returns his greeting, though it’s a little half-hearted. “Paige went for a run. She should be back soon.”

“You guys need a hand?” she asks instead, wanting to be useful. Moe and Bob have welcomed her into their home. The last thing she wants to do is be an ungrateful guest, especially when their daughter hates her guts. Tess is going to make an honest effort to get back into Paige’s good graces. Even if she never forgives her, she’s going to make it up to her. That much she could promise.

“If you could help Drew clean the living room, that’d be great,” Moe says. “There’s too many people in the kitchen right now.” She shoots Bob a knowing glance and he laughs, raising his hands defensively.

Tess smirks wryly and makes her way into the living room where Drew is dutifully dusting off the coffee table. He wastes no time before he puts her to work, directing her to the vacuum cleaner (Tess just gets the impression he didn’t want to vacuum), and together, they get the living room all cleaned up for the guests. They tackle the dining room next. Drew and Tess return to the living room once they finish, sitting on the count and awaiting Moe’s next instructions. Soon, Paige returns from her run – Tess knows she no longer has the right, but she can’t help but look at Paige as she walks in. She’s dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a tank top. It’s unfair how pretty she is, shiny with sweat and flushed. Tess has to avert her eyes. Paige only greets her parents before rushing upstairs. Tess hears the shower click on.

“What’s wrong with you and Paigey?” Drew whispers to her.

Tess glances at him, a somber smile on her face. “I messed up and hurt her feelings,” she tells him honestly. “She’s pretty upset with me.”

Drew looks at her curiously. “Why’d you do that?”

His blunt question makes Tess chuckle. That’s a question she’s been asking herself, too. “I like her a lot,” she admits, the first time she’s ever said those words out loud. It feels like a weight is lifted off her shoulders, though she’s still crushed under everything else. “I like her a lot and it makes me do stupid stuff.”

“Mom says you should never hurt the people you love,” Drew says smartly.

“She’s right.”

“Did you say sorry? And did you bring her a cookie? Cookies always help.”

“Do they?”

Drew nods, humming as he turns on the TV. He scrolls through the channels until he settles on some cartoon Tess has never heard of. “Paigey likes cookies,” he states. “Chocolate chip ones. They’re her favorites. She always says you can’t be sad when you’re eating a cookie.”

At that, Tess can’t help but laugh. “That does sound like something she’d say,” she concedes. The taps on the armrest of the couch mindlessly, thinking. She turns to Drew. “Do you think your mom would let us bake her some? Right now?”

Drew turns off the TV without another word, standing as he calls, “Mom!” Tess stands to follow him, sighing. She did not expect him to move so fast. The kitchen is much cleaner than it was earlier – Bob went outside to put the turkey on the smoker and Moe remained, preparing the roux for the mac and cheese. Moe hums as Drew walks in. “Can me and Tess bake some cookies right now?” Moe looks as though she’s about to protest, but Drew beats her to the chase. “For Paigey. She’s sad.”

Moe softens, looking over at Tess, who flushes under her stare. She hopes her face looks as apologetic as she feels. Moe sighs. “Yes, make it quick. I’ll need the oven soon.”

Drew pumps his fist in the air as he rifles through the cabinets, looking for the ingredients. Tess lets him take the lead on most of that as she leans against the counter. She feels Moe’s eyes on her again, and she turns her head, meeting her gaze. “Everything okay?” Moe asks knowingly, her voice quiet.

Tess smiles sadly. “I hope they will be,” she says. Moe raises a brow, clearly expecting more, and Tess swallows. “She’s not happy with me. I hurt her, and honestly, I’d be pissed at me, too.” She picks a loose thread on her shirt. “I’m gonna make it up to her. I just…” Tess sighs. “She’s my first…girlfriend. My first anything, really – I don’t know what I’m doing. But she makes me want to try and that’s scary. I’ve never felt this way for anyone before.”

Moe is silent for a moment, thinking about her next words. “You’re beating yourself up pretty bad,” she notes. Tess almost laughs because she truly has no idea. “I’m not gonna lecture you. But, you know, Paige is my kid. No matter how old she is. She has so much love to give. Don’t take advantage of that. One day, she’s not going to wait around.”

Tess nods. “I know,” she says. She opens her mouth, trying to find more to say, but her words fail her. Moe gives her another knowing look, her lips curling into a smile. Drew returns with flour, sugar, and all of the other supplies and he and Tess immediately get to work. He’s a little messy with the flour and definitely steals most of the chocolate chips, but he’s a joy to spend time with. Drew reminds Tess so much of Paige – that thought alone makes her queasy again. She has to tell herself that they’ll be okay. Delusion and manifestation are a thin line, right? Paige isn’t the kind of girl to hold onto grudges, even if she should.

Once the cookies are out of the oven, Drew helps her select the best looking ones to take to Paige. He salutes her like she’s going off to war and Tess can’t help but laugh at him, feeling strangely like she is about to walk across a field of landmines. She takes a deep, stabilizing breath before she walks up the stairs, plate of cookies in hand. She knocks on Paige’s door and opens it as soon as she hears Paige call out, “Come in!”

Paige is reclining on her bed, phone in hand and freshly showered. She looks up as Tess walks in with a meek smile, holding out the plate. “Are those…?”

Tess exhales deeply, taking Paige’s curiosity as a sign to move closer. “Yeah. Me and Drew made them. He said you can’t be sad when you’re eating a cookie.” That’s enough to make Paige crack the slightest of smiles. Tess gives her the plate, explaining, “They’re fresh out, so–” but Paige is already reaching for the one on top, dropping it with a yelp of pain. They stare at each other as Paige sucks on her finger before they break out into laughter. It’s slightly awkward, but it’s relieving, and the situation isn’t funny at all but everything has sucked for five months so it’s all just stupid. “Sorry. I promise I’m not trying to kill you.”

Paige chuckles again, resting the plate on her lap and letting the cookies cool off. She shuts off her phone, glancing back up at Tess. Her expression is guarded, like she still doesn’t fully trust Tess, but there’s a new openness to her.

“Can we–”

“Do you–”

They both speak at the same time and Tess laughs as Paige scratches the back of her neck. “Come sit?” Paige requests softly. Tess studies her features, the earnestness in her eyes, and she nods shyly as she rounds the bed to sit on Paige’s left side. She makes sure to leave a bit of space in between them, unsure of where their boundaries lay after all this time. “You first?”

Tess nods again, taking in a deep, shuddering breath. “I know you said sorry doesn’t fix anything, but I want to try, if you’ll hear me out?” Paige stares at her for a long while before tilting her head, giving her the all-clear. Paige reaches for a cookie again, checking the heat, before lifting it to her mouth and humming at the flavor. “I was spiraling again,” Tess says slowly, once she’s found the words. “Overthinking every single thing. I was confused. There was so much going on in my head and it was awful because there’s nothing anyone can do about it. I know the solution to it – it’s too risky, and I can’t lose everything I have. Not again. I shouldn’t have shut you out, but isolating myself is the only way I know how to deal with my shit. I thought I was protecting myself, protecting you, but I only made it worse.”

Paige doesn’t say anything, still chewing, and Tess keeps rambling. “I’m so sorry. Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it. I hurt you and I keep hurting you and I don’t – I don’t know why or how but I just do and you don’t deserve that, Paige. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for this, but if you never forgive me, I wouldn’t even be able to be mad about it.” Tess laughs humorlessly. “Whatever it takes, I’ll make it up to you, that much I can promise. Just…please, give me another chance?”

Paige gazes at her, her eyes wide and seeking. Tess has to fight every instinct to turn away, to break eye contact, but she needs Paige to know that she’s serious. Finally, Paige relents, a sort of somber half-smile quirking on her lips. “I’on like being mad at you,” she admits. “Arguing. Ignoring you. But…I just –  we agreed to communicate. You promised me that you wouldn’t do this by yourself. I’m upset you broke that promise and our agreement, but I understand why you did it. Just wish you hadn’t ‘cause we coulda fixed whatever it was. Easily. I woulda made time for you; shit, I did make time for you, and you threw it back in my face. That shit hurt.”

“I know,” Tess whispers. “I would feel the same way, too. You have every right to be upset with me. I’d be mad if you weren’t mad at me.”

That makes Paige laugh. It’s full, from the belly, and all of the tension in the room disappears. Paige is quiet for a moment before she speaks again. “I’on know about forgiveness right now,” she says honestly. “We gotta work towards that. But I don’t wanna be mad anymore.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Tess says softly. Paige smiles at her, her knuckles brushing her hand, the touch electrifying. The relief is nearly overwhelming. Things aren’t back to normal, but they’re as close to normal as they’ve been in five months, and that’s all Tess can really ask for. She then remembers where they are and exhales deeply. “I, uh, I think Moe might need a hand in the kitchen.”

Paige refocuses. She clears her throat. “Yeah. Okay.” They both stand, Paige holding onto the plate of cookies, but before they can leave the room, Tess stops her with a hand to her wrist.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, her throat bobbing. “For hearing me out.”

Paige’s smile grows, turning into something tender despite the reservation in her eyes. “Of course.” Then, Tess can almost feel the shift in the air as Paige’s eyes flash with mischievousness. “Just don’t do that shit again or you can go spend Thanksgiving with the Ionescus.”

“Paige Madison!”

After their much needed conversation, the energy in the house almost immediately changes. Tess feels like her breathing comes a little easier since she doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around Paige. When they made it back downstairs, Moe instantly put them to work in the kitchen. Both Moe and Paige pretended to not see Drew and Tess’s excited handshake to celebrate the fact that the cookies worked. Tess and Paige sat side by side as they peeled the potatoes for the mashed potatoes, quietly catching up on all of the things they’d missed over the last five months. Tess thought that revisiting those memories would hurt a little more, but being honest with Paige helped a lot. They’re working on moving past this, and while Tess does have much to atone for, she fully intends to put in the work to earn back Paige’s trust.

As soon as the potatoes are peeled and ready, there’s a knock at the front door. Moe leaves to get it and returns with a family of four in tow. Tess doesn’t recognize them, but when Paige goes in to hug each of them, she assumes it must be her mom’s side.

“Tess, this is my mom, Amy, and my step-dad Brian,” Paige states, some lingering fondness in her tone. Tess grins as she shakes their hands, greeting them. “And these idiots are Lauren and Ryan.” Immediately, Lauren and Ryan start talking over each other as they drag Paige, but the taller blonde struggles to hide her amusement as they squabble. “Guys, this is Tess.”

“Your girlfriend,” Ryan drawls, cooing dramatically. Lauren snickers.

Paige, to her credit, doesn’t react much, but a light flush settles on her cheeks as she smiles at them. “Yes, my girlfriend,” she says. “Where’s yours?”

Lauren hisses, murmuring ouch under her breath, while Ryan rolls his eyes and Tess giggles. “Not fair. You guys U-Hauled.”

“I actually specifically told her I’d do anything but U-Haul,” Tess cuts in. Paige scoffs, but grins. “It’s nice to meet you both.” 

Moe then kicks the four of them out of her kitchen and Paige drags them into the living room where Drew is watching TV. Everyone disperses, settling in on the couch or the futon. Tess hardly has the time to make a decision before Paige takes a seat in an armchair, pulling Tess haphazardly into her lap. Her siblings don’t pay any attention to them as they argue over the remote, trying to set up the Playstation. Tess glances at Paige with an amused look, though also slightly confused. She’d thought she would have needed to grovel a little more before Paige would want to be close to her, but she’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Problem?” Paige asks nonchalantly, adjusting Tess so she sits a little more comfortably.

“Nope,” she says. She ignores the slight crack in her voice, but Paige doesn’t have the same plan to. Paige grins smugly and Tess rolls her eyes. “You’re insufferable.” Paige merely pinches her hip in response. Once Paige’s siblings have the Playstation set up, the five of them take turns split-screening Fortnite, integrating Tess almost seamlessly into their dynamic. While two play, the other three chat and play cards. Paige declared early on that Monopoly was firmly off the table, not wanting to sit through Lauren and Ryan’s inevitable argument when one or the other went bankrupt.

Tess settles in easily with Paige and her siblings. She finds herself smiling more than she thought she would, pressed against Paige’s body, and maybe she’ll admit that Thanksgiving isn’t so bad when you have good company. She feels lighter than she has in five months and she couldn’t think of any way today could get any better.

Paige’s hand rests low on Tess’s waist, splaying across her stomach as she pulls her in closer, chin hooked over her shoulder and grinning at the sight of all of her siblings together. Tentatively, Tess rests her hand over Paige’s, relaxing when Paige gives her a gentle squeeze. “You happy?” Tess asks softly, tilting her head so Paige can hear her. She can feel the smile that Paige presses into her neck.

Paige’s voice is muffled against her skin, but she shivers at the way it reverberates through her entire body. “Yeah. I am,” she admits, her tone full of affection. Her grip tightens on Tess ever so slightly. “I missed you.”

Tess’s throat bobs with emotion, feeling her chest tighten. “I missed you, too,” she says honestly. And when Paige’s lips brush against her skin, almost imperceptibly, Tess gets the feeling that they’re a lot closer to being okay than she’d thought.

Thanksgiving dinner that night goes a lot better than the night before. The chatter is lively, food is passed around, and they all link hands in prayer before digging in. Everything is delicious. Tess would have gone for seconds if she wasn’t trying to save space for pie. Even after their plates are cleared and Tess has to unbutton her jeans just so she can sit comfortably, the nine of them remain at the table, sharing stories and jokes. Paige’s hand finds her knee under the table, almost unconsciously, and Tess’s subsequent smile is real. She should be alarmed by how well she assimilates into Paige’s family, by how well she plays the part of girlfriend. She should be alarmed by the fact she’s not pretending at all, that this is just the soft, simpering idiot that Paige turns her into with the simplest of smiles.

When everything is said and done that night, Tess is crawling back into Paige’s bed, the smell of her shampoo and perfume still fresh on the sheets. The air mattress has been lying untouched since the night before. Tess is struck with the realization that she doesn't want Paige sleeping on the floor tonight, but she can’t think too much about that because Paige is walking back into her room, her hair damp over her shoulder as she squeezes the excess water out with a towel. They share a soft smile. Tess still thinks that Paige is the prettiest woman she’s ever laid eyes on.

“So,” Tess begins hesitantly, folding her hands over her stomach as she reclines back on the bed. Paige hums, urging her to continue, running her brush through her hair. “I heard through the grapevine that there’s a Thanksgiving tradition where you tell your friends and family what you’re thankful for.”

“Yeah?” Paige asks, an inquisitive noise building in the back of her throat.

“Mhm,” Tess responds, glancing at Paige, who meets her eyes through the mirror on the wall. Her lips quirk up into a smile. “Am I allowed to say I’m thankful for you?”

“Depends,” Paige teases. She leaves her hairbrush on her dresser and takes a seat at the foot of her bed, pulling on a pair of socks to ward off the late-November Minnesotan chill. “Do you mean it?”

“I do,” Tess says, completely honest. Paige’s eyes scan her features for any hint of a falsehood. Finding nothing but earnestness, her smile grows, an almost bashful flush settling on her cheeks. “I’m serious. I know I’ve been a jerk–”

“Not the word I’d use–”

“Shh,” Tess laughs. Paige raises her hands in defense. “But I’m glad you’re here, that you’re in my life. You didn’t save me, but you made it easier to want to save myself. I don’t make it easy for you, but… I don’t know – you take care of me. I just hope I can repay the favor one day.”

“S’not transactional,” Paige states. “Don’t need you to ‘repay’ me. Just want you to be happy.”

“I am.”

Paige smiles at her, a lone dimple popping out, and Tess truly can’t help the way her heart beats a little faster. “Good.”

There’s something about the way Paige lingers, her gaze expressive. “Paige,” Tess says, almost nervously. She hums, leaning back slightly, awaiting her question. Tess clears her throat. “Don’t sleep on that fucking air mattress.”

Paige’s eyes are bright, alert, searching Tess’s expression for any sign of a sike! moment. “Are you sure?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper. “Don’t wanna–”

“Paige,” Tess says again. “Please?”

And then Paige is nodding, a smile overtaking her features again. She crawls gingerly over Tess’s legs, slipping under the purple comforter next to her. They’re both on their backs, nearly elbow to elbow, and the space between them feels electric. Sure, they shared a room on their Bose trip, but they remained in their separate beds. This is the closest they’ve been in five months, and Tess is certain that every cell in her body is simultaneously combusting.

“Tess,” Paige says.

“Yes, Paige?”

“Am I allowed to say I’m thankful for you too?” she murmurs.

Tess’s chest loosens. “Depends.” She cranes her neck to glance at Paige, but the blonde is already staring at her, her gaze dark and beseeching. “Do you mean it?”

Instead of a verbal response, Paige moves, one hand holding herself up and the other cupping Tess’s jaw, kissing her with a soft intensity that pulls the breath directly from her lungs. Tess sighs, tangling her fingers in Paige’s hair, letting Paige guide her as she liked for better access. Paige pulls back, her nose brushing against Tess’s cheek as she presses her lips to the slope of her jaw, the spot under her ear that makes her shiver, the base of her throat, her pulse point. Tess can feel Paige’s smirk as she lingers, her lips sweeping across her skin. “Your heart’s beating really fast,” she murmurs.

Tess scoffs, blushing fiercely. “I wonder why,” she retorts.

“I think I got a few ideas,” Paige says smugly.

“Think less,” Tess says breathlessly, pulling Paige back to her lips, halting whatever stupid comment she was about to make. Paige grins insufferably, her kiss long and slow. Tess feels herself sinking deeper and deeper into the mattress, consumed by all things Paige Bueckers; the scent of her perfume, the silk of her pillowcase, the warmth of her hand on her skin, the push and pull of her lips.

When they finally pull apart, Paige’s lips ghost across her temple as she murmurs, “Happy Thanksgiving, baby.”

The nickname does little to slow the beating of her heart. Tess doesn’t care. “Happy Thanksgiving, Paige.”

DECEMBER 2023

are you still interested in christmas-ing with the kennedys?

Wouldn’t miss it for the world

okay let me email you the tickets

[Paige loved “let me email you the tickets”] You gonna pick me up from the airport?

i could be persuaded

Say less [1 Attachment]

that’s a picture of dunkin donuts

It is Which is what I will buy for you if you pick me up from the airport

you drive a hard bargain 🤔 can you upsell? 

I mean Coffee, a bacon egg & cheese, and Paige Bueckers in your passenger seat Are you not convinced?

not really

Bruh Tess PLEASE do not make me take an Uber

you are such a baby 😭 don’t worry i’ll be there with a sign that says “welcome back from jail”

As long as you’re there I don’t care what’s on the sign

ok smooth oh also so what are your thoughts on spending like a day with my family then we go into the city for like the new year’s eve stuff in times square

Alone? 🫦

oh my god ok so you can actually walk from the airport

I’m kidding I’d be down for that Whatever you want

[Tess loved “Whatever you want”] sounds good see you soon

Can’t wait 🫶

DECEMBER 29, 2023

Tess is nervous.

She isn’t exactly sure why. She’s been in this situation time and time again, waiting at the airport for someone to pick her up or waiting to pick someone else up. It’s extremely busy, an unfortunate repercussion of the fact that it was that limitless space between Christmas and New Year’s where time didn’t exactly exist and people were flying in and out of New York constantly. Perhaps the difference is just because it’s her picking up Paige when it’s usually the other way around. One of the themes she’s begun to notice is that simply doing things with Paige just makes them feel different. She can’t exactly explain it, but Paige has this way of helping her see and experience things through a new lens.

The bustle of the airport makes her stand on edge. She’s never been a huge fan of the crowds, the constant noise, which is probably a strange thing to say as an athlete. She’s usually able to lock in and drown it out, but she’s anxious for other reasons. Paige will be walking through those gates in a few short minutes. Tess is excited to see her – that’s not the issue. She’s dreading the fact that as soon as she and Paige reunite, half of the airport will want to shove their phones in their faces. Again, the lack of fan privacy is probably something she should be used to, although she’d spend her life arguing that the lack of autonomy and respect isn’t something that should be normalized.

But that’s neither here nor there. The PA overhead clicks on. Tess can barely hear the robotic voice over the noise of the crowd as it announces the landing of Paige’s flight. Just a little longer, Tess reminds herself, then we can go home. The time seems to pass slowly, but soon enough, Tess can see a new crowd forming, emerging from the gate, and she feels her heart beat just a little faster at the implication.

Paige stands tall in the crowd, her blonde hair sticking out like a beacon. She’s dressed in an all black Nike tracksuit with the Husky logo emblazoned on the chest, although she holds a hoodie close to her chest as if she’d gotten hot on the plane but prepared well for the New York chill. Tess makes her way through the crowd in Paige’s direction. It doesn’t take long for Paige to find her, a beaming smile growing on her face, and Paige falls into her with evident relief.

Tess will never get tired of the way Paige hugs her. She melts completely, her body enveloping hers, her head always falling close to her neck. Paige’s body is firm, tangible, and Tess sighs at the weight and pressure of their embrace. “Merry Christmas, ma,” Paige murmurs in her ear, squeezing her tight.

“Merry Christmas, Paige,” Tess responds. “And Happy New Year’s, I guess.”

Paige’s shoulders shake with laughter as she pulls back, dropping an affectionate kiss to Tess’s forehead before intertwining their fingers. “It ain’t New Year’s yet,” she says.

“Close enough?”

“Nah.” Paige shakes her head, looking all too mischievous. “S’not New Year’s until I get my kiss at midnight.”

Tess rolls her eyes, but a flush settles over her cheeks. “You’re incorrigible.”

“C’mon – look at you!” Paige gestures with her free hand as she leads the two of them over to baggage claim. “I’m not a monster, I’m just a man with needs,” she sings, terribly off-key, which amuses Tess.

“Alright, Daniel Caesar,” she goads, smirking. “Let’s get you out of here before people charge you with aural assault.”

Paige suddenly looks affronted, blue eyes wide and indignant. “Oral?” she asks, wrinkling her nose.

Tess sighs, shaking her head. “No, baby, aural. A-U-R-A-L. As in hearing.”

Paige scoffs. “Jus’ say that, then.” Then, her head snaps back quickly, glancing at Tess with mock-offense. “Wait, that wasn’t nice!” Finally, her suitcase rolls around and she hauls it off the conveyor with ease.

Tess snickers, patting Paige on the shoulder. “Remember what I told you? I gotta keep your ego at a reasonable level.” With their hands still linked, Tess leads them through the crowded airport quickly, eager to get home and away from all of these people.

“My girl so mean,” Paige huffs dramatically. “Nothin’ wrong with my ego. You’re just a D1 hater.”

Tess smiles. “Are you finished?”

“No!”

Paige rambles the entire drive back to Tess’s house, but she at least stays true to her promise and buys Tess brunch at Dunkin – not that Tess expected anything less from her. In the short eight months they’ve been friends, Paige has proven herself to be very intentional in her words and actions. She doesn’t make a habit of saying things she doesn’t mean. Excluding their banter or when they’re teasing one another, Paige is unfathomably genuine. Promises and intent are incredibly important to her; Tess found that out the hard way back in November, but she’s keen on keeping that an isolated incident.

When Tess parks on the curb behind her parents’ car, she cuts the engine, but makes no effort to get out. Paige glances at her with a concerned expression, her thumb brushing against her knuckles gently. “So, my parents might be…a lot,” she says hurriedly, meeting Paige’s eyes. “Just let me know if it gets overwhelming or something, okay?”

Paige smiles reassuringly at her. “Don’t worry, ma. We got this in the bag.”

Tess returns the smile, though it’s a little weaker. “I’m serious. My dad likes you but you might get the shovel talk.”

“I’m serious, too.” Paige lifts their hands, pressing her lips to Tess’s palm. There’s no use hiding the infectious blush, so she just tries to not look as down bad as she feels. “I can handle it.”

Tess sighs, conceding, and she collects her belongings and leads Paige into her house. Her parents are sitting in the living room watching a movie when they walk in. Almost instantly, they turn to stare down Paige, who, to her credit, doesn’t falter, instead offering a polite smile.

“Hey, guys,” Tess says awkwardly. “This is Paige. Paige, these are my parents, Alessandra and Mateo.”

Her parents stand to shake her hand. “Great to finally meet you both,” Paige says charismatically, not wincing under her father’s handshake, which earns her a gleam of silent approval. Point, Paige. Her parents echo the sentiment, flashing relaxed smiles, and Tess finally chills out.

“Are you both staying for dinner? I know you have other plans this weekend,” her mom asks.

“Yes, mamma,” Tess replies with a smile. “We’re heading into the city tomorrow afternoon and I’ll be back on Monday after I drop her off at the airport.”

Her parents share a glance, as if silently communicating with one another. Their apparent telepathic capabilities always terrified Tess growing up. That fear comes back tenfold when the both of them glance at Paige, curiosity in their gaze as they soak her in. Paige, admirably, stands strong, a calm seriousness in her expression. She doesn’t even react when Tess subconsciously tightens her grip on her hand. While it feels like they stand there for hours, the staredown only lasts a few seconds before her parents relent. “I’m making bolognese tonight,” her mom states, the tension in the room dissolving.

At that, Tess relaxes again, and flashes a quiet smile at her parents. “We’ll be in my room,” she says. “Paige is jet-lagged after her flight.” None of them comment on the fact that Paige only travelled across one time zone, but her parents smile kindly and return to their movie as Tess drags Paige down the hallway, flushing. “Oh my God. That was the most nerve wracking thing ever.”

“I’ve never dissociated so hard in my life,” Paige confesses. “Did I do okay? Can they smell fear?”

Tess laughs, pulling Paige inside her room and shutting the door. “Christ, Paige – they’re Italians, not fucking sharks.” Paige rolls her eyes, depositing her bags close to the door and kicking off her shoes. She wraps her arms around Tess from behind, rocking them side-to-side, and Tess can’t help her smile as Paige sighs with relief. “Good job, though. She asked if you were staying for dinner.” Tess spins in Paige’s embrace, wrapping her arms around her neck and kissing her in celebration.

“Is that good?” Paige asks, her cheeks turning red.

“Very,” Tess confirms. “Just don’t wear jeans. She cooks enough for a small army and she’ll make you eat dessert, too.”

Paige nods seriously, like impressing her parents is an important task to her. “I’ll lock in,” she vows, her lips brushing against Tess’s jaw. “They’re gonna like me more than they like you.”

And at that, Tess shoves Paige away from her, scoffing indignantly while the blonde dissolves into laughter. “Jerk,” Tess grumbles. She makes her way to her bed, climbing in and turning the TV on. “Grey’s?” she asks Paige hopefully, as if the blonde would ever say no to Grey’s Anatomy, and Paige nods as she crawls in next to Tess, slinging an arm over her waist and resting her head on her chest.

They make it through an episode and a half before Paige falls asleep, lulled into slumber by the drag of Tess’s fingertips against her scalp. Tess knows she’s been working hard this season, spending extra time in the gym and training because she’s shouldering so much more for her team. She’s on court for nearly 40 minutes a game and although she’d never admit it, Tess knows that it’s taxing.

Tess wouldn’t admit it, either; she knows this arrangement is temporary, but she could get used to this – laying in bed with Paige while the blonde naps, comfortable in the knowledge that out of all of the people in her life, Tess is the one person she knows she can go to and not be expected to be Paige Bueckers all the time. She’s not expected to shoulder all of the responsibility, not expected to be the tough one – she can just be. The fact that Tess can provide that kind of comfort and security for her means more to her than she’d ever expected.

Paige shifts in her sleep, her arm tightening around Tess’s waist subconsciously, and Tess allows herself a gentle smile. It’s temporary, but she’s going to enjoy it for as long as it lasts.

Dinner was surprisingly nice that night. True to Tess’s word, her mom did make a shit ton of food, but Paige was a willing victim as she went back for seconds and had room for a slice of tiramisu. The chatter was lively and Paige integrated so well with her family. They asked about her childhood, her dreams, and her dad even dragged her into a lengthy conversation about football and the Superbowl. For an Italian raised man, her father was far too interested in American football, but Tess can’t find it in herself to mind too much when Paige’s hand finds her knee under the table as she listens intently. The smile on her face is bright, endeared. When Tess catches her mother’s gaze from across the table, noting the silent approval and her own fondness, she realizes that there’s just something so right about her and Paige.

They gather around the Christmas tree after dinner. Tess and her parents had already opened most of their gifts when Tess’s cousins came around on Christmas day, but her parents had surprised them both with gifts for Paige. Paige wasn’t expecting it, but the childlike wonder on her face was priceless, and Tess really couldn’t have been all too shocked by the fact that she fell just a little harder for Paige as she opened her presents. It was nothing major; a few pieces of workout apparel, a sneaky South Carolina hoodie that they all laughed at as Paige stared at it in mock-disgust (Tess knew she’d wear it), and a gift card for an upscale restaurant in the city that she and Paige planned to take full advantage of.

And then Paige surprised her parents with gifts of their own, which was incredibly fucked up, because how was Tess supposed to go back to normal when Paige is buying her parents Christmas presents and they’re not even dating for real? Paige gives her father a beautiful watch and her mother a gorgeous necklace. Judging by the way they sparkle, they must both cost a fortune, and Paige tells them she already tore up the receipts so there’s absolutely no take-backsies.

Tess hugs her parents goodnight, although they also pull Paige in for one when she tries to shake their hands again. Her parents both whisper their firm approval and Tess can’t help the way her chest tightens. They tell her that they really like Paige – that makes Tess laugh weakly because they aren’t the only ones. She really likes Paige, too, and that’s slowly becoming her biggest problem right now.

After they both shower, Paige rifles through her bag, searching for something, and when she turns around, she presents Tess with a small, gift-wrapped box. “Paige,” Tess grumbles, not expecting a gift from her, but the Cheshire grin on her face makes her resolve weaken.

“C’mon,” Paige goads. “D’you really think I wouldn’t get you sum’?” Tess rolls her eyes, but she opens the drawer on her nightstand and pulls out a gift wrapped box, too. Paige’s smile grows. They exchange their gifts, and after much argument, Paige convinces Tess to open hers first. She takes the wrapping apart gingerly, her eyes widening at the Tiffany & Co logo. “Don’t freak,” Paige says gently, which does little to hide the fact that Tess is freaking.

“Paige–”

“Open it, ma.”

Swallowing thickly, Tess does, and tucked into the cushion of the box is a small, yet glimmering, bracelet charm. She picks it up gingerly, her breath catching. “I struggled for a really long time to find the perfect one,” Paige admits in a whisper. Tess glances up at her, watching a slow smile spread across her face. “Had to get it custom made. It’s the Gampel court. I know – why would you wanna walk around with the enemy court on your wrist, whatever, but flip it over.” Tess flips it, and on the back, February 8, 2021, is engraved. “This was the first game we’d played against each other. The first time I met you in person, the first time I shook your hand. And honestly, I didn’t think we could beat you. I didn’t think I could beat you. You made it really fucking hard.” That draws a teary laugh from Tess, but Paige keeps going, a smile on her face. “As we played, it became less about, I’on know, beating you and more about impressing you. Win or lose, I was just really fucking grateful I got to share the court with you. I learned so much from your game and you made me a better player, whether you realized it or not. I was scared to reach out to you – you’d always been sort of untouchable, I didn’t think you’d wanna be my friend, especially since we’re on different teams. But here we are now.”

“Here we are,” Tess agrees, her lip quivering. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to out-do that,” she jokes.

Paige rolls her eyes, dimples popping out. “Lemme put it on you?” she requests. Tess nods, handing over the charm, and with overwhelming gentleness, Paige clasps the charm to her bracelet, giving her hand a squeeze once it’s safely secured.

“Thank you,” Tess says, her voice barely a whisper. She meets Paige’s eyes. Her expression shines with adoration, fondness, the blue of her gaze disarming. “It’s beautiful.”

Paige smiles at her, vulnerable and tender. “Of course,” she says.

Tess gestures to the wrapped box in Paige’s hand and she opens it gingerly. Inside the box is a thumb ring. The band is extremely thin, gold in color, and isn’t perfectly straight. It resembles the stem of a rose which leads into the petals with two miniscule leaves jutting out on either side. Paige stares at the ring in a reverent sort of awe. “So, we have this Italian saying: se son rose, fioriranno. ‘If they are roses, they will bloom.’ It essentially means that things take time to develop. You have to have faith that the roses will bloom – that you will bloom. It reminded me of both of us – our ACLs, that in time, they won’t weigh us down.” Paige glances back up, meeting Tess’s eyes. “It reminded me of you. I know this year hasn’t been easy for you so far, for your team, but in time, you’ll find that success you’ve been working your entire career for.”

Paige smiles even though her eyes water and her bottom lip quivers. “Tess… I’on know what to say.”

“Well, that’s a first,” Tess jokes, and the both of them dissolve into laughter. At Paige’s insistence, Tess slides the ring onto her thumb. Paige stares at it for a while, a dopey expression on her face, but Tess can tell she loves it. “Merry Christmas, P.”

Paige’s smile grows. She leans in, softly pressing her lips to Tess’s, her arm curling around her waist and dragging her closer until she’s nearly in her lap. Tess places her hands over Paige’s shoulders for stabilization, content to let Paige take the lead, but it’s not long before Paige is withdrawing to ghost her lips across Tess’s cheek, murmuring into her ear, “Merry Christmas, baby.”

DECEMBER 30, 2023

The first few hours of the morning are spent watching cheesy Hallmark movies, much to Paige’s chagrin. She thinks they’re too corny, but Tess argues they’re a holiday staple. Paige eventually gives in after Tess makes her a mug of hot chocolate with extra whipped cream, although that doesn’t save her from Paige’s endless commentary.

“The acting is so bad,” Paige says, her tone disgusted. She stretches out a little more on the couch, her leg brushing against Tess’s. “Why does she move her head so much? Why does she keep blinking?”

“Paige,” Tess says, fond exasperation clear in her tone. “It’s not supposed to be good.”

“Well, it’s bothering me,” she whines. “Moving your eyebrows so much doesn’t make you look cool. It makes you look ridiculous.”

“You are such a baby,” Tess gripes. She lifts Paige’s left arm, tucking herself flush against her side. Paige gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze as she pulls her in a little tighter. “If you think about it, they’re just like us.”

At that, Paige raises her brows, huffing out something akin to unconvinced laughter. “Yeah? How so?”

Tess smiles at her coyly. “They got paired up together for the mural contest. Now they have to work together if they want to win.” She presses her fingertips together, separating them as she makes an explosion noise. Paige snorts. “I don’t think we’d be on Hallmark, though. Not PG enough. You curse like a sailor.”

“Me?” Paige asks. “Have you heard yourself?”

“You’re really gonna sit here and blame me for sh – stuff?” Paige gives her a knowing look, a smirk growing on her face. Tess juts her lip out in a pout that’s clearly not working on Paige. “It’s Christmas and you’re being mean to me?”

“It is not Christmas –”

Tess sighs dramatically, cutting her off. “Christmas,” she whines.

Paige rolls her eyes good naturedly, brushing her lips across Tess’s temple and shutting her up. They finish the movie, along with two others before it’s time for them to make the arduous, thirty minute journey into the city (traffic was a bitch). Paige called dibs on driving, which Tess wasn’t happy about considering that it was her car, but as soon as she thought about driving through the city traffic, she changed her mind.

Tess booked them a suite in a hotel called Tempo by Hilton, mostly due to its proximity to the New Year’s Eve ball drop location. After they checked in, they planned on heading out to dinner and then lounging around for the rest of the evening. They weren’t doing much on the 31st either, their only real plan being the ball drop. They agreed they weren’t going to fill up an entire itinerary. New Year’s in New York was just supposed to be a weekend vacation away from their families and the city would be crowded enough that they’d be away from the media, too. It was difficult to find much to do since Tess was not a fan of the New York nightlife. December marked eight months of sobriety – it wasn’t a lot, but it was a source of pride for her. She had no interest in going back on that even if the urges were long gone by now.

They got ready for dinner together, although Paige was absolutely no help at all. She was dressed in a multicolored striped sweater, baggy white jeans and a pair of matching shoes; her hair was styled down in loose waves. Tess jokingly told her that she looked like an art teacher and Paige rolled her eyes so hard that she had to lay down because it made her head hurt.

“Paige, I don’t know what to wear,” Tess complains. 

“Sum’ warm,” she says unhelpfully, not looking up.

“I want to wear a dress.”

“Then wear one?”

“It’ll be cold!”

“Bring a sweater.”

“And ruin the fit?” Tess grumbles.

Paige laughs, much to Tess’s chagrin. “You can pull anything off,” she says.

“It’s probably not even that cold,” Tess muses, glancing down at the dress she packed. It’s a simple black one that cuts off just below her thighs with thin straps at the top. “We’ll be inside for the most part, right?”

Paige shifts, holding her head up with her hand as she stares at Tess with amusement. “Wear the dress. Bring a sweater. Or don’t. I can give you mine and we can be all cute and shit.”

“You just want me wearing your clothes,” Tess says under her breath, but Paige hears it.

“Damn,” she deadpans. “Caught me.”

Tess wears the dress. She doesn’t bring a sweater. The restaurant was warm enough that she didn’t need one, although she’s certain that Paige deliberately took them the long way back to their hotel so she’d cave and ask Paige for her sweater. Her suspicions are proved true when Paige forces them to take what feels like a million photos, but Tess just feels endlessly endeared by her, so she entertains it.

“I like you in this,” Paige comments nonchalantly once they make it back to the hotel room. She toys with the frayed edges of the multicolored sweater mindlessly, glancing up to smile at Tess coyly.

“I know,” she says, taking her jewelry out and unpinning her hair. Paige lingers behind her, watching as she works. “You’re so down bad. It’s sickening.”

“Sorry,” Paige lies. Tess shakes her head with an amused smile. “Look in the mirror and get back to me. Who wouldn’t be?”

They watch an episode or two of Grey’s before bed that night, although Tess falls asleep after the first thirty minutes. The weight of Paige’s body against hers was too calming, the scent of her perfume in the air, the drag of her fingertips across her back. Despite doing nothing but lounging around, traveling, and going to dinner, Tess was exhausted. Paige could be partially to blame for that – she makes Tess feel safe, like she doesn’t have to worry about keeping all of her walls up. She has a comforting energy that could make anyone relax and lose all of their worries.

But maybe she’s a little too effective at that. If Tess had managed to stay awake longer, then maybe she would have heard the dial tone, the sound of another person picking up, and Paige’s whispered confession of, “Aubrey, I might be in love.”

But she didn’t hear it – and Paige may never say it again.

Things are fine the morning after, although Tess would have no reason to expect them to not be. She wakes up before Paige does (not a surprise), although they shifted at some point during the night. While Tess fell asleep with her head on Paige’s chest, she woke up on her side with Paige’s right arm slung protectively over her waist and the blonde’s face pressed into the back of her neck. Her breathing was gentle, fanning against her skin, sending shivers down Tess’s spine when she was coherent enough to realize just how close they were.

She slides out of Paige’s arms, careful to not wake her, and stretches as she walks into the bathroom to begin her morning routine. She’s in the middle of brushing her teeth when Paige finally wakes up, padding into the bathroom and wiping the exhaustion out of her eyes. “Mornin’,” she says, voice thick with sleep. She presses a quick, chaste kiss to Tess’s cheek before she reaches for her own toothbrush and gets to work.

“Morning, Paigey,” Tess says, though her words are muffled around the toothbrush in her mouth. Paige shoots her an amused glance while Tess tries not to stare at her too obviously. She’s dressed in a pair of black basketball shorts and a matching Nike sports bra, although her shorts hang low on her waist, revealing the waistband of her boxers. There’s not even a safe region for Tess to look at. The muscles in her shoulders are freakishly defined, the veins in her hands protrude slightly, her expression is soft and mellowed out, and her hair is down in bedridden waves. Tess needs to be taken out back and shot between the eyes. This is getting out of hand.

“Sum’ you wanna say?” Paige asks around the foam in her mouth. Tess flushes immediately, much to Paige’s endless enjoyment.

“Nope!” she says as she spits out her toothpaste. “Nothing at all.”

Paige catches her around the waist when she tries to leave, attempting to put space between them. Tess’s breath hitches as Paige pulls her flush against her, her hands resting on her bare stomach. Wordlessly, Paige bites down on her toothbrush, using her free hand to wipe away a smudge of toothpaste off Tess’s bottom lip. Paige’s subsequent smile is all too smug and she has to shove her away before she says something pathetic like naming the 2023 WNBA draft class by pick order.

She can hear Paige’s light laughter from the bathroom as she returns to the main room. When Paige finishes up in the bathroom, she doesn’t mention how she flustered Tess, although she does put a shirt on (much to Tess’s simultaneous relief and disappointment) and picks up the phone to order room service for them. The food arrives quickly, an assortment of meats, pastries, and other delicacies. Paige insists on making Tess’s plate for her – the princess treatment getting is ridiculous, but who is she to complain? – and the photo of Paige that she captures, messy bun and oversized t-shirt on, is good enough that Tess considers gatekeeping it, but she ultimately posts it anyway because the people deserve to know that UConn’s basketball star is doing this for her and not for them.

Paige reposts it with the eye rolling emoji and the princess emoji, which makes Tess laugh.

They talk all throughout breakfast, easy conversations and jokes, and they lounge around in the hotel room until it’s time to get ready for the ball drop. Tess, once again, struggles with what to wear, but when Paige comes out of the bathroom wearing a hot pink, long-sleeved Nike sweater with black baggy cargos and rummages through Tess’s suitcase, Tess really can’t be all too surprised when the outfit Paige selected matches her’s.

“You could be a little less obvious,” Tess suggests as she does her hair in the mirror.

Paige only smiles, taking in Tess’s outfit. Paige has dressed her in a pink tube top and black high-waisted pants with a matching coat. “Nah,” she says after a minute of shameless ogling. “I did my big one.”

Tess rolls her eyes. She would never admit it to the blonde, but she and Paige look good.

The walk to Times Square flies passes quickly. They spend it hand-in-hand with Paige expertly navigating them through the busy New York foot traffic as Tess takes countless pictures of the city decorated for New Year’s. She gets plenty of photos of Paige, too, the easy smile on her face, her side profile illuminated by the city lights. Tess knows very well by now that Paige is extremely attractive – that wasn’t a secret to anyone. She was magnetic and Tess has been stuck in her orbit from the first time they met, not in the conference room, but when they played each other in 2021. It takes her a long time to realize her feelings. She keeps them under tight lock and key, knowing that her goal and purpose is to play basketball. She never had the time for anything else, but when Paige finds her gaze, squeezing their intertwined hands, Tess thinks that maybe she could make time if Paige decided to stay in her life permanently.

Paige isn’t magnetic because of her looks. It definitely helps, and while that physical attraction will never leave, Tess has come to find she’s attracted to Paige for other reasons. She likes Paige’s kindness, her candor, her irresistible charm. She likes that Paige keeps her accountable, that she stands ten toes down on her beliefs. Tess is drawn to the way Paige cares for those around her, the way she gives everything her all. She likes her humor, her faith, her compassion. There isn’t a single thing Tess hates about her, but there’s an infinite amount of things that Tess loves about Paige Bueckers.

Love.

Tess loves Paige Bueckers.

That realization, while incredibly sudden, doesn’t surprise Tess as much as it probably should. If anything, it’s freeing – there’s a reason, an explanation to the way she’s been feeling for so long. It should scare her, but it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because it hasn’t set in yet, the panic. Tess panicked when she realized she had feelings for Paige in the first place. But maybe it’s because she’s older now, arguably wiser. She’s learned that she can’t run from her feelings. She has to embrace them for what they are. She’s in love with Paige. It should scare her because Paige was her first “relationship,” first kiss, and now, first love. It should scare her but it doesn’t and that’s just what it is.

It should scare her because now, rule four is officially broken. There’s no arguing against it or calling it by any other name. She dapped Paige up in a campus coffee shop and promised her that she wouldn’t fall in love with her. In fairness, a Notes app contract and a handshake isn’t really legally binding. But at the end of the day, Tess doesn’t care and that’s probably the scary part. She’s in love. It’s unsurprising, undaunting, and looking back, inevitable. 

“You good?” Paige asks, drawing Tess from her thoughts. “You got really quiet.”

Tess thinks about her answer. Is she okay? She’s here, in New York City with Paige Bueckers, the woman she’s in love with, and they’re about to watch the New Year’s Eve ball drop. She’s three months away from being able to play basketball again, a year away from declaring for the WNBA draft. She is literally on the cusp of achieving all of her dreams, of having everything she’s ever wanted. So, she smiles at Paige, shifting closer into her personal space as they walk, and she’s honest when she responds, “Yeah. I’m good.” The smile that Paige gives her is bright, full of fondness, and so disarming that Tess truly wonders how she went so long trying to convince herself that she couldn’t fall in love with her. Paige just makes it so easy. And when she pulls Tess tighter into her side, whispering a joke into her ear, part of Tess hopes that Paige could find it within her to love her back. Another part of her notices the clear adoration in Paige’s eyes, the way she tightens her grip on her hand, and she thinks that maybe Paige Bueckers being in love with Tess Kennedy isn’t such a long shot.

Paige finds them a secluded spot in Times Square, decently far away from the larger portion of the inebriated crowd. The wind is frosty, nipping at her nose and fingers, but Pagie’s body is so warm. She wraps both arms around Paige’s waist, laying her head on her chest, and the blonde runs her fingers up and down her back in a soothing motion. She’s not scared to be in love, but it’s overwhelming in the best way possible. Her heart feels like it’s about to burst at the seams, that the only way she could get this energy out is if she cried from the rooftops.

Right now, there’s literally nowhere else she’d rather be. She has room in her heart for both basketball and Paige – her two first loves. For her, that’s enough.

“D’you have any New Year’s resolutions?” Paige asks once the clock hits 11:50. 

Tess hums, pausing to truly give it some thought. “I think I’m going to try to do more next year,” she admits in a soft whisper. “Do more things, meet new people, take more risks. This year really taught me I can’t just rely on the same thing. Take more drives into to paint, you know?”

Paige smiles at her, immediately catching onto her reference. “No more three-point shooting for you,” she teases. “I wanna see you out-hustle Kamilla for some rebounds.”

Tess laughs. “I don’t know about that,” she says wryly. “What about you? Any resolutions?”

Paige’s hand is warm on her back, still brushing her fingers against her spine. She’s quiet as she thinks. She stares directly into Tess’s eyes when she responds, her eyes blue and beseeching. “I wanna try to build something permanent,” she confesses, her throat bobbing with nerves. “Legacies. My future.” Paige hesitates before her next words. “...Relationships.”

“Yeah?” Tess asks. Paige nods, a flush on her cheeks, though Tess can’t tell if it’s from the December chill or embarrassment. “Sounds admirable. But if anyone can do it, you can.”

Paige’s smile is solemn, although Tess doesn’t pick up on it, shifting her attention to the clock. 11:53. The two of them sit in silence for the next few minutes, swaying side to side to the beat of far-away music, the murmur of the distant crowd. Tess allows herself to get lost in the fantasy of a new year, one where she and Paige aren’t just pretending. Tess stopped pretending a long time ago. Part of her wonders if Paige did, too. She finds it hard to believe that Paige would be so committed to keeping up appearances in private. You could excuse the amount of time they spent together. Friends do that. But friends don’t kiss. They don’t fall asleep with each other, or cuddle, or call each other “baby” like Paige does with an enamored drawl. The signs are all there, but what if they were all lies? She doesn’t want to get her hopes up, even if part of her feels like there’s something more.

Tess has never been one for resolutions. They’re tacky and no one ever upholds them, but she thinks she’s going to uphold hers this year. She’s going to confess to Paige – eventually. Definitely not during the tournament season, not when Paige has so much on her shoulders already. But one day she will. That’s a promise she’s going to uphold.

She checks the clock again. 11:59. When she glances up, Paige is already staring at her. Coyly, she asks, “Ready to ring in the New Year’s?”

Tess chuckles, tightening her arms around Paige’s waist. “Are you?”

“Been ready ever since you picked me up at the airport,” she retorts, a grin growing on her face. “D’you remember what I said? S’not New Year’s until I get my midnight kiss?”

Tess hums as if contemplating something. “I don’t recall that,” she murmurs, her gaze locking onto Paige’s.

“No?” She shakes her head as Paige draws her in closer. Their noses brush. Paige’s eyes are soft, but there’s an emotion swirling in them that Tess just can’t place no matter how long she searches for the answer. “Is there anything I can do to jog your memory?”

The crowd roars, although Tess doesn’t pay them any attention.

10…

9…

8…

“I’m sure there’s something,” Tess concedes.

7…

6…

Paige smiles at her, her hands firm on her back. “Something?” she drawls.

5…

4…

“Paige.”

“Yeah?”

3…

2…

“Please stop talking.”

1!

And she does, pulling Tess even closer and capturing her lips with a gentle urgency. Tess grins against her, reaching up to tangle her fingers in Paige’s loose hair, though Paige grows annoyed at Tess’s inability to be serious. One of her hands finds Tess’s jaw, taking control and guiding their kiss. Her hands are freezing but they feel like a soothing balm against the heat building in Tess’s cheeks.

Paige pulls away for air, her breath coming out in shallow bursts that forms clouds of steam in the air, but she doesn't stay away for too long. She’s swooping back in and kissing Tess with a renewed vigor, like there’s something she’s trying to communicate. Her lips are greedy, insistent, drawing out every single noise building in the back of Tess’s throat. She’s never kissed like this before – technically, Paige is the only person that Tess has kissed, but there’s something that’s earth-shatteringly new about this interaction. Paige kisses her with want, with desire, like she couldn’t bear it if she didn’t have Tess in her arms at all times. And honestly, given how Tess eagerly responds, trying her best to put as little space between her and Paige as possible, Tess isn’t sure if she herself could bear it if she and Paige weren’t near each other.

Her entire nervous system is alight with activity, neurons firing on all cylinders. Call her delusional, or stupid, or whatever, but Paige has awoken a part of her that has laid dormant for 22 years. It’s like part of Tess was waiting for Paige to come into her life, that she wasn’t fully living until she felt what it was like to love Paige Bueckers. Now that she knows, Tess can’t imagine living a life where she doesn’t love Paige Bueckers, where she doesn’t get to look at Paige like she’s hung the very stars in the sky, where she doesn’t get to wake up everyday and wonder how Paige will piss her off this time. It’s just them, it’s how they work, it’s how Tess wants them to work forever and ever and ever.

“Paige,” Tess gasps, almost breathlessly, pushing the blonde away from her with a hand to her chest. Paige looks almost annoyed at the interruption until she takes in the hazy look in Tess’s eyes. “Hotel?” Tess asks, and Paige nods her head so vigorously, coming back to her senses. She reaches for Tess’s hand and shoves their way through the crowd back towards their hotel.

The walk back feels like it takes ages. The elevator ride isn’t any better. Tess is nearly shaking with anticipation and Paige fumbles with the keycard, cursing under her breath. Finally, she opens it, ushering Tess inside with unseen urgency and shuts the door quickly behind them, locking it.

Tess hardly has the time to react before Paige is on her again, one hand at the base of her throat and the other around her waist. Despite her haste, she carefully walks the two of them backwards until the back of Tess’s knees hit the bed and Paige lowers her down gently, cognizant of her leg. Paige pulls back, her eyes clouded with want but she finds some clarity when she looks at Tess again. “Off?” she requests, her voice hoarse, tugging lightly at Tess’s coat. Tess nods, but Paige is shaking her head. “Words, Tess. None of that shit.”

“Off, Paige, please,” she says hastily, leaving her pride at the door. Paige rewards her with a deep kiss to her lips as she reaches for Tess’s coat, pulling it off her shoulders and throwing it somewhere behind her. She stands to kick off her shoes and Tess almost misses the contact until Paige sinks to her knees, reaching to undo her heels. The sight of Paige on her knees, staring up at her in near reverence sends a shockwave of desire straight to Tess’s core. Once her heels are off, she reaches for Paige, pulling her up and on top of her, connecting their lips once more.

“Fuck,” Paige murmurs, dipping down to press her lips to Tess’s jaw. Tess tangles her fingers in Paige’s hair, pulling the hair tie out, allowing the blonde waves to spill over her shoulders as Paige drags wet kisses across the slope of Tess’s collarbones. She nips at her skin, soothing the bite with a pass of her tongue, and Tess can’t help the moan that rips from her throat when Paige’s hands press against her ribs. “So pretty, baby, you have no idea.”

“Says you,” Tess says breathlessly, which draws a laugh from Paige. She pulls back far enough, hooking her fingers under the hem of Tess’s top. Paige meets her eyes, the question evident in her blown-out eyes, and Tess nods rapidly as she says, “Take it off, please.”

Her top comes off quickly and Paige groans, her eyes zoning in on her bare breasts. “So polite,” she murmurs, sliding her hands to her chest. She glances back up for consent, and once she has it, she brushes her thumbs across her nipples, drawing a whimper from Tess. “This what I needa do to get you to be nice?” Her tone is warm despite the insinuation in her tone.

“Stop teasing,” Tess grumbles, and who is Paige to deny her? She leans down, littering wet kisses across her chest, encircling her mouth around a nipple as her hand gives equal attention to the other one. Tess slides her fingers through Paige’s hair for leverage, pulling slightly, and moaning when Paige’s subsequent groan reverberates throughout her body. Her back arches off of the bed, trying to lessen the space between them. Paige pulls back, staring at Tess with a reverent smile like she’s the eighth wonder of the world. Then she’s dipping back down, lavishing her other breast with attention, and Tess feels so high-strung that she could float away from the slightest touch.

When Paige moves down her body, sucking hickeys near her ribs, Tess reaches for Paige’s sweater. Wordlessly, Paige raises her arms, allowing Tess to pull her it off. Her mouth goes dry at the sight of Paige’s abs, firm and rigid and inviting.

“All quiet now, huh?” Paige goads.

“Paige–”

Paige shushes her, pressing their lips together again, swallowing the needy sounds ripping from Tess’s throat as her hands explore. They’re warm, leaving blazing paths of desire across her body, dipping down to grip her thighs. “Gonna get you right,” she promises, leaving Tess’s lips, traveling down to her neck where she sucks a mark into her skin. “Jus’ need you to be patient.”

“Don’t want patient,” Tess says, gasping when Paige bites her shoulder. “Want you.”

“You got me,” Paige reassures. “Always, baby, you got me.” Her fingers hook into the waistband of her pants, looking back up to Tess for approval.

“Please,” she begs. “Fuck, Paige, please.”

With almost agonizing slowness, Paige pulls her pants down her legs, still cognizant of her knee. Her eyes widen at the sight of Tess splayed out under her, her breath catching. “Fuck, Tess,” she murmurs in disbelief. Tess finds it hard to be insecure when Paige is looking at her like this. “All for me?”

“For you,” Tess says, her chest heaving.

Paige smiles smugly, whispering, “Yeah, it is,” before she leans down, pressing her lips to Tess’s full thighs, gripping her hips. She spreads her legs, fitting her body in the space she’s created, trailing kisses towards her knee, where the surgery scar remains. Tess’s breath catches in her throat when Paige kisses her knee, her fingers brushing gently over her skin. “Every inch of you is so fuckin’ beautiful,” she whispers in awe. “God, Tess. How are you real?”

For that, Tess has no answer. She reaches for Paige’s hand, intertwining their fingers as she pulls the blonde back to her lips. They’re locked together for a few moments before Tess feels the brush of Paige’s pant leg against her skin. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” she whines.

“Sorry, baby,” Paige whispers against her lips. She kisses her once more, a lingering press before pulling away, pulling her pants off with a quickness. She’s left in a black sports bra and a pair of boxers. 

She settles in again, her lips finding Tess’s navel, pressing wet kisses to her skin. “Paige,” Tess begs again. “Please touch me.”

“Where d’you need me?” she asks, glancing back up to meet Tess’s eyes. She wonders if she looks as destroyed as she feels. Paige hasn’t even done anything, but all of her senses are on overdrive. She reaches for Paige’s hand, guiding it to the apex of her thighs, resting it over her underwear. If she were wearing a lighter color, she’d be concerned about her arousal seeping through the material.

“Off, Paige, please,” Tess requests.

Paige obliges, stripping her fully. Her eyes soak her in, a groan building at the back of her throat at the sight of Tess spread open and exposed for her. Her hands linger on her thighs as Paige returns to Tess’s lips, kissing her deeply once more. “You want me?” she asks, their noses brushing. “We can stop if you want, don’t gotta do nothin’ you’ont want, Tess, I swear it.”

Tess shakes her head, pulling Paige back in. She’s never been more sure of anything else in her life. “Want you,” she affirms, her voice breathless. Paige pulls back again; her pupils are blown out and the desire is evident, but she searches Tess’s eyes for any hint of a falsehood. When she finds none, she presses one last kiss to her lips, trailing down her body again until she reaches her cunt. Her breath is warm against her and Tess shivers.

Paige reaches for one of her hands, intertwining their fingers. With the other, she spreads her legs once more, getting comfortable and finally, she dips down fully to drag her tongue slowly along the length of her slit. She groans, the vibrations making Tess crazy, and it takes everything in her to not lose her mind as her back arches. Paige uses her free arm to press down on her hips, keeping her rooted as she licks and sucks, her tongue all over her. And when Paige finds her clit, wrapping her lips around it and sending waves of white-hot pleasure throughout her body, Tess whines so loudly that she can feel the noise in her throat. “Paige, fuck,” she gasps, one of her hands twining in Paige’s hair, tugging her closer and closer to her.

Paige is vocal in general, but the noises she makes against Tess’s cunt are intoxicating in the best way. Her head spins as Paige laps her up, gathering her slick on her tongue and drinking her up like a woman starved. She travels lower, her nose brushing against Tess’s clit as her tongue circles her entrance, and Tess feels like some part of her has died and gone to heaven. The pleasure is immeasurable, white spots blotting at the edges of her vision.

Then Paige’s arm is leaving her hips, her fingers trailing down, brushing across her folds. She presses her lips to Tess’s thigh, smearing the wetness as her thumb rubs slow, intentional circles on her clit. “So pretty like this,” Paige murmurs, her voice thick, sounding like she’s drunk off of her taste. Her fingers dip down and she slowly pushes one inside of her, letting Tess get used to the stretch as she tips her head back in wordless euphoria. “That’s it, baby, you got it.” Her finger starts moving, curling upwards, dragging across a spot that makes Tess writhe.

Tess releases Paige’s hair, one arm slinging over her face, unable to fully process the pleasure. Paige stops suddenly, making a disapproving noise against the inside of her thigh as she nips at her skin. “Eyes on me,” she says firmly, “or I’ll stop.”

Tess whimpers, but does as Paige says. She’s rewarded with a blinding smile, the shine of her slick on Paige’s cheeks evident with the way the moonlight streams through the room. Paige prods at her entrance with a second finger. It’s a tighter squeeze, but Tess just sucks her in. “There we go,” Paige whines, breathless with want. “Jus’ like that, fuck.” Both of her fingers are working her in tandem, curling upwards, and Tess feels boneless.

With every push and pull of her fingers, every time her fingertips brush against the spongy part inside of her, Tess feels the pleasure mounting and she starts babbling, begging for Paige to give her what she needs, to finally give her some relief after being so high-strung for what feels like ages. Paige is all too content to give it to her, her head dipping down once more to wrap her lips around her clit. Paige is vocal against her cunt, moans of her own high-pitched and whiny, talking her through it with incoherent rambles. Her mouth and her fingers work her in tandem. Paige leads her higher and higher to her peak, and after one final well-timed brush, the pleasure crests and Tess’s orgasm washes through her.

Paige hums against her, pleased, working her through it until the aftershock tremors subside. Only when Tess gasps, far too overstimulated, does Paige slowly drag her fingers out, pressing one last kiss to her thighs. Tess sighs, sagging into the bed. Paige glances at her, her expression hazy and filled with undeniable smugness, fondness, and a lingering concern. “You good?” she asks, her voice rough.

At that, Tess can’t help but laugh, gazing up at Paige through hooded lids. “You just gave me the best head of my life and that’s what you have to say?” she asks weakly.

Paige rolls her eyes, rubbing her thigh gently with her clean hand. “I’on know what you want from me. You wanna high-five or sum’? Buy a cake to celebrate?”

“Jesus Christ,” Tess says, amused and somehow endeared. “I can’t believe this is who I just had sex with.”

Paige snorts. “I don’t remember you doin’ much of anything.”

Tess flushes. “First of all,” she begins, still a little breathless, “rude. Second of all… should I?”

“Nah,” Paige says, her entire demeanor shifting. “Uh, you don’t gotta worry about that.”

Tess stares at her long and hard, not quite understanding. It’s not until she notes the flush on Paige’s chest, the sweat beading at her temples, the way her boxers stick to her body that she finally understands. “Oh my God,” she says, much to Paige’s chagrin. “You–”

“Chill!” Paige exclaims, embarrassed. “You were makin’ all these noises. I couldn’t help it.”

They stare at each other for a few beats before they both dissolve into exhausted giggles. Tess feels slightly delirious, although part of her can’t believe she just did this with Paige. She doesn’t regret it. She doesn’t think she ever could.

“We should probably clean up,” Paige suggests.

Tess hums, stretching. “Give me like ten minutes,” she says. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Paige laughs smugly. “Yeah?”

Tess shakes her head, amused. “Shut up.”

“Alright,” she concedes, hooking one arm around Tess’s back and the other under her knees. Tess yelps in surprise as Paige lifts her easily, walking them both to the bathroom. “I’m tired. And your ass is not makin’ it ten more minutes.”

“You’re an asshole!” Tess exclaims as Paige turns on the shower, adjusting the heat. “But true.” With one last smile, Paige helps her into the shower and they wash up together. It feels so incredibly domestic, but Tess isn’t complaining. She’s not going to allow her brain to ruin this night for them, not when everything leading up to it has been nothing short of perfect.

They’re well past sleepy when they finally make it out of the shower, redressing in sleep attire. Paige checks out the blankets, getting rid of the soiled ones and grabbing fresh ones from the closet. Soon, she and Tess are collapsing into bed, seconds away from passing out entirely, but Paige reaches for her instantly. She curls into her body, her arm wrapping around Tess’s middle. She brushes her lips against her temple. “Happy New Year’s, Tess,” she whispers, her tone fond.

Tess can only muster an exhausted smile, squeezing her hand as she whispers back, “Happy New Year’s, Paige.”

[aggieharkness]

Have i earned it, mother? Chp. 3

Pairing: Avis Amberg x reader

Summary: You had never thought you would get to have a date with Avis, much less that it would be on New Year's Eve. No matter if it wasn't entirely perfect it would still be wonderful because she was with you and you were with her.

Warnings: smut (+18), affair, swearing, oral (Avis receiving), fingering (Avis receiving), oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), tit play. Romance, fluff, confessions, lingerie... I don't know what else needs to be added.

Authors note: Merry Christmas!!! It has taken me a bit longer than anticipated to finish this, but it's fucking long and my poor little neuron has been working overtime, still I hope you like this new chapter. The song that plays in the car is "Time after time" by Frank Sinatra and the ones from the restaurant are from the album "Love me the way I love you" by Jerry Vale. Please, do tell me if I need to be more graphic, if I'm lacking on something... you know I accept constructive criticism. If you want more, tell me. I am here for you, my dear people, I listen. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Avis Amberg.

This is my Christmas gift to you all, so I hope you like it!! 😊🎄 Thanks to @bravewithacapitalb for being my beta reader, you are a God send. Also shoutout to those who didn't make it, I still appreciate you @dont-blame-me-she-made-me-crazy @4theluvofsapphos @celestemoon-9 @renafisher27

Chp. 1 Chp. 2

Word count: 26K (I'm very sorry but also not that sorry. I am aware that it's long as fuck.)

You made me love you

The music from your old record player echoed throughout the house, bouncing off the walls and into every room of your tiny apartment. With no neighbours around you, there was no issue with the volume, or with the way you banged the doors of your wardrobe as you fretted around your bedroom. Swaying to the beat of the trumpet, your body glided barefoot from the bathroom over to the bed, your sweet voice harmonizing with Fats Waller’s vocals as he sang “Ain’t Misbehavin’”, your hair curled, brushed, and pinned on the back of your head. Tonight was special and you wanted to look and feel as glamorous as all those girls at the studio that would be going to private or big parties, even if your plans were much simpler. With a beautiful deep black lace strapless corselette hooked around your figure and a pair of nude stockings secured by the clips that hung from the garment hugging your frame you stood observing two dresses. They had both cost you a fortune but thanks to Avis’s raise in your salary you had not had to ask the cashier if you could pay for them in three different transactions, you had just wiped out the cash and paid them in full. You had felt so rich, even if it had been just for a moment. Observing the gown on the left you took in the off-shoulder shape of the top, the tight draped bodice and the lightly ruffled and puffed skirt, a beautiful translucent lilac tulle around it complimenting the darker purple shade of the dress itself.

 It was more of a ballgown than anything else and you had nowhere to wear it, but it had been too beautiful, and back at the store you had thought that one Christmas gift to yourself wasn’t so bad, not when you hadn’t bought yourself something just for the fun of it in years. Moving onto the gown on the right you felt a smile creep up on your lips. It really was smashing, strapless, with a tight bodice and skirt that would certainly hug every single curve in your body, a slit on the right side that reached about mid-thigh. Touching the fabric with your fingertips you could not help the shiver of happiness you felt at the feeling of the midnight blue velvet. It had to be this one, since the first instants you had laid eyes on it, on that faceless mannequin back at the boutique, you had known it would be the dress you would wear to take Avis out on New Years Eve. Without giving it another thought you opened the back zipper and pulled it over your legs, around your hips until it finally covered your body, your arms and hands battling to get hold of the zipper to close it up. After a two-minute struggle that included jumping senselessly around your bedroom, you finally managed to zip it, smoothing the fabric and rushing to look at your reflection in the mirror. You could knock anyone’s socks off with the way your breasts practically spilled out and your leg peeked out from under the sea of velvet.

Giving your back to the mirror, in your tiny room where there wasn’t a place for a vanity, makeup pilled on your nightstand and over the bathroom sink, you made your way to the jewellery box that laid open over the covers of your bed, hands rummaging among the few pieces you owned. There was a pair of pearl earrings that you were not going to wear, Avis was a pearl sort of gal and you didn’t want to clash with her, two pairs of golden rings, a matching necklace, and a lovely sapphire set that you had been given years ago by a an aunt that you could not remember anymore but that your parents had said did questionable things for a living. Who didn’t at the end of the day? That set matched your outfit perfectly, the golden chain that wrapped along a string of rounded sapphires and crystals feeling terribly cold as you placed it over your collarbone, clasping it in the back. The earrings were small and didn’t seem to be heavy as you put them on, the final piece left being a simple ring that you slid on the middle finger of your right hand; somehow it didn’t feel right to place it on either of your ring fingers. The last touch that you needed to complete it all was your shoes, that you searched for all over the room, panicking for a second when you couldn’t find the box before taking a relieved breath, hand on your chest, as they had been under the bed. You must have accidentally kicked them while jumping to get the dress on. In that box, wrapped in a beautiful silk tissue, in all their glory, were a pair of black Balenciaga stilettos that had swallowed the last bits of your salary once all bills and amenities had been paid, of course. They were gorgeous, you were in love with them and once you put them on, fitting your feet like gloves, you took one last look in the mirror, the dark cherry red lipstick shade you wore complimenting the palette beautifully.

Checking the clock that rested on your nightstand, between the bottle of lotion and translucent powder, it read a quarter past ten. To you, it wasn’t that late, but Avis was probably absolutely famished by now, and you still needed to drive for over ten minutes to get to her place. You practically skated from one side of the bedroom to the other, spraying some perfume and grabbing the lipstick from the bathroom before rushing into the hallway, putting keys and other essentials in your purse, and yanking your old coat off the rack. Getting yourself a fancy one would have been pushing it a bit too much. Out of the apartment you stopped midway to the stairs when you realised you had not turned the music off, huffing in frustration and running back to your door, unlocking it and unplugging the record player. Rushing wasn’t going to get you anywhere if you had to come back every five seconds to turn shit off, so you made a leap through your apartment turning off lights and other appliances before locking the front door and heading down into the street. The sky was clear, full of stars that the streetlights would cover up as soon as you began to drive through the main avenues, the temperature cold but thankfully not as freezing as it had been that night, still you took a moment to breath in the crispy air and gaze at the universe above your head. Nature was beautiful every day of the year.

Returning your gaze to the street, right in front of your building was your beautiful burgundy car, waiting, a smile painting your lips. You could still hardly believe Avis had got it for you, sure after three hours of fucking each other at her place and after she had assured you she would, her frame relaxed and utterly satisfied as she signed the check without thinking about it twice and handing it to Mr. Russell, but it still thrilled you to no end. The memory of the both of you walking into the dealership with two completely different outfits, the men glaring and Mr. Russell rushing to greet you both made your smile even bigger, wondering if he had noticed the change of clothes and had simply decided not to mention it.

Unlocking the vehicle, it still thrilled you whenever your fingers touched the leather, that smell of new car lingering alongside Avis’s perfume in every crevice and stitch. It was the perfect combination. With your old one it would have taken you about three tries to get the engine up and running, this one was ready to go on the first try, moving smoothly onto the road and down towards the Amberg residence. When you had suggested to Miss Kincaid during a coffee break the possibility of going to the studio’s New Year’s Eve party, you had been excited, after all, it had taken you a whole morning to finally bring yourself to make the decision. But that little bubble of happiness had been burst upon hearing her say that it would not happen this year, at least not the way it always had been, at Mr. Amberg’s residence with every actor and actress in existence, but mainly with a very drunk Avis trying to be pleasant to all those idiots she had told you a thousand times she didn’t give a shit about. Mr. Samuels was hosting it instead because Mr. Amberg was going to some party at his Gentleman’s Club or something. You hadn’t wanted to press the matter too much as not to draw much attention to yourself and have Miss Kincaid asking questions. The initial disappointment had melted into nothing when you had come across Avis at the studio barely fifteen minutes after your conversation with Miss Kincaid and had blurted out if she wanted to spend New Year’s Eve with you, expecting her to smile politely and decline the offer by saying that she had to attend the party with her husband. Your knickers dropped though, metaphorically that time, when she agreed, sounding almost excited at the prospect of spending time with you and only you. That same evening you had found yourself looking for the perfect outfit in every store you could find, except the really expensive ones, you didn’t fancy the idea of selling a kidney for a dress if you could find a stunning one somewhere cheaper.

Dinners all over Hollywood had ended hours ago, people singing and dancing out in the streets as they headed to bars or private celebrations, drinks in their hands or in flasks deep within their purses and pockets. Your eyes observed it all, the bright lights, the sounds that the New Year was bringing as they mixed with the song playing on the radio. It sounded like Frank Sinatra, perhaps it was a new release or something, either way, it blended quite nicely with the world around you as Sunset Boulevard wrapped its atmosphere around your car. Taking a side street, you drove up a road filled with palm trees on either side before coming to a stop in front of the Ambergs’ gates. You didn’t have to wait this time, the old gentleman had seen you arrive and was already unlocking them, waiving to you excitedly as you drove the vehicle in and parked it on the side. He was wearing a bright red bowtie you noticed as you stepped out of the car, pulling your coat tighter around you, and had tinsel on his uniform hat. You made a mental note to ask him his name the next time you came over, he was far too kind not to engage him in conversation at some point. Locking your car, you flashed him with a genuine smile and an energetic wave before making your way to the front doors and ringing the bell. There was a wave of sounds on the other side, Gertie’s muffled voice saying that there was someone at the door, almost as if it was a code, and Avis’s panicked voice answering with something you did not quite catch. A few moments later the doors creaked open, the maid showing you into the entrance hallway, your eyes noticing that she was wearing a pretty dress instead of her usual uniform, a touch of rouge and lipstick on her face that suited her quite well.

-She will be right down miss. Would you like a drink while you wait?

-Oh, I’m fine, no need to go to all that trouble Gertie. You look very fancy, going somewhere?

-Welcoming the year with some of the ladies of my Bridge Club, miss.

-Well, I hope you have fun. I know I will.

She chuckled at the comment but didn’t say anything else, simply smiled knowingly before heading for the kitchen. Before you could begin to observe the room around you the sound of someone clearing their throat made you whip your head towards the stairs. You choked on the air you were breathing, sputtering quietly for a second. Holy shit. Angels could not shine brighter nor be more beautiful than the image your eyes were taking in.

The sight at the top of the stairs was right out of a fantasy novel where ethereal beings walked among simple mortals, mixed with those movies that captivated your heart with all the romance and glamour. Waves of red cascaded over her shoulders and framed her perfect face with such volume and shine that not even Rita Hayworth would be able to make your eyes stray. Those gorgeous deep brown eyes staring back at you through thick black eyelashes that seemed to be longer and more sensual tonight, her magnificent cheekbones adorned in gentle hues of pink and peach rouge. You could not help it, your eyes travelled down to her mouth, her usual shade of Victory Red perfectly applied. They seemed fuller and plumper tonight, sending a shiver of desire down your spine. Her long neck and enticing collarbones were exposed by a plunging square neckline that defined the top of her breasts exquisitely, her arms wrapped in translucent satin the same shade as her dress, an absolutely pristine white. Her curves, as hypnotising as river bends, were hidden under gentle drapes of silk that met at her waist, her legs peeking through the skirt as if folded on the side of her body, her hand holding the fabric to make sure you would be able to see the nude stockings that she was wearing underneath, her right foot resting on the edge of the first stair. Your eyes racked and ate at her long shapely leg, tongue running over your lips, her dainty feet dressed in matching pristine white heels that peeked from under the hem of her gown.

Avis was beautiful every day of the week, every second of every minute all year long, but the Avis that stood at the top of the stairs was a vision so divine, so sublime in every single aspect that you had to put your hand on the doorframe, your knees having grown weak. Licking her neck with your eyes you were glad you had forgone the pearl earrings, as she was wearing her own pair, much more expensive and beautiful than yours, and a matching necklace that rested gently over her collarbone, right under the hollow of her neck. With each breath she took her breasts rose and fell, drawing your body towards her as your eyes went back up to her face, locking with hers. For a moment you tasted chocolate on your palate. She took one step forward letting the skirt fall back into place, walking down the staircase slowly, absolutely delighted in the way your pupils had dilated and practically undressed her while also simply adoring her. Her hips swayed from right to left with each step, her right hand on the railing, tracing the banister with her fingertips. Even in the few feet that still separated you, you could already smell her positively elegant and rich perfume, dizzying your mind as you stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for the moment when she would reach your arms, allowing you to sweep her off her feet. One more step and she stood half a foot above you, your head lulled back slightly to keep on staring. Had you blinked since hearing her? Her index finger traced your jawline until it rested under your chin.

-Hello, dear.

-Hi… Hello.

-You seem a bit flustered. Do you need a glass of water? – she was teasing, of course, her voice low and sultry but sounding delighted to see you, and well, she was not entirely wrong; you were cursing yourself and wished you had asked Gertie for a drink after all, your throat suddenly dry.

-No, no. Just… Wow.

-I take you like it then. I got it tailored and ready for the festivities yesterday.

-It’s beautiful, but it’s you, as a whole, that makes it absolutely extraordinary. – she blushed a deep red at your compliment, her finger moving to toy with your necklace as she dropped her gaze, an embarrassed smile on her red lips. – You’ve even let your hair down.

-That was Gertie’s suggestion. Said that you would appreciate it. – she pushed the perfect waves over her shoulder. The initial idea had been to wear a different updo to her usual ones and call it a day, but that blessed maid of hers had mentioned how the style nowadays was more along the lines of letting the hair free. Avis had thought about it for a moment, wondering if you would actually like it or not. By the way you were practically eating her with your eyes she was glad she had followed Gertie’s suggestion.

-So she knows?

-We fucked for three hours the other day, honey. There was no way in hell I was going to come up with something to cover that up.  Don’t worry, she’s alright with this, us.

-I hope it’s due to the fact that I make you happy and not because you could fire her.

-Fire Gertie? Never, the house would fall apart. She’s simply happy that I’m happy because you make me happy.

-The word happy just lost its entire meaning after repeating it so much. – it took you a moment to build up the courage to touch her as you didn’t want to stain the gorgeous gown; she was a vision in white that you wanted to keep in your mind forever. Your hand went straight to her shoulder, caressing the side of her neck while twirling a lock of her hair. It was so soft, and it smelled like orange blossoms, an aroma you had mentioned you adored as it reminded you of home. She had taken notes. - But it’s okay, I think I can come up with a whole new meaning for it.

-What would it be?

-What I feel when I see you, when I’m with you. – you were enthralled by the way the lock of hair in between your fingers glided effortlessly, speaking in hushed tones while breathing her essence into your lungs, never wanting to stop. - One can be happy about a book or a dish, but what goes through my mind and heart when I lay my eyes on you cannot be simply referred to as happy, one must give the word a brand-new meaning to understand, to express.

-Could you… - her lips were hovering over yours, her right hand resting on the banister while her left one travelled to the back of your neck, but she didn’t take the next step to close the gap between you, she wanted to hear you. -Could you tell me? Make me see what you see?

-The night is young Avis, and I don’t want to spill all my secrets so soon. I promise that I’ll tell you, tonight, but if you need a little bit of help figuring it out on your own, just think about how your heart races when I’m with you, of all the little details you’ve left for me around my office, like little breadcrumbs that take me directly to you. No one has ever left me flowers or a sandwich with a note simply saying “Eat”. You take care of me even when you are not there, so I know you know the true meaning of the word, even if I never told you, even if I carried that secret to my grave. – your voice dropped into a whisper, eyes locked with hers now, your lips nearly touching. - You’ve even made yourself smell like home for me.

Is this how she had felt when she had married Ace? She could not remember her heart ever leaping in her chest at the sight of him, nor her breath hitching in her lungs when he smiled. She might be married to that man, but he made her feel like she was nothing, fuelling only hate and hurt in her heart. Your breath tickled her nose, your hand drawing out goosebumps all over as it continued twirling beneath her ear. Everything about you made her feel alive, not even the boys at the gas station could draw out the pleasure into care; they came, fucked her and left with a hundred dollars in their pocket, but you had come into her life without her having asked and you had stayed out of your own accord. You wanted her in your life as much as she wanted you in hers. None of the things you did to or for her were to earn a promotion or for Avis to connect you with higher ups in the industry like she had had happen with others before, you did all those things for her without expecting anything in return because you wanted to make her happy, as simple as that. Hearing you speak to her with such emotion, your eyes shining with a feeling she had not seen in such a long time drove her chest to constrict under her corselette, the prospect of hearing you say what she wanted you to say making her heart race, her eyes glistening with unexpected tears that your thumb wiped gently as they fell, not wishing to smudge her makeup. No, you are the only one who could make her feel like this, utterly desired and cared for. So loved.

-Why are you crying? Have I said something to upset you?

-No, darling, you haven’t done anything wrong, I’m just… happy.

-Just the way I like you then.

Finally, she pressed her lips onto yours, softly, treading carefully into your space while moving her left arm around your neck fully. It felt like coming home. She did not make an attempt to enter your mouth even when you parted your lips slightly to grant her access, she basked in the feeling of your mouth simply being pressed against hers, the taste of your carmine on her tongue when she traced it. You didn’t need to ask her what she was feeling after your conversation, her lips were giving you enough information with the way she pecked and gently nibbled, pouring everything into the kiss. Parting after a minute to fill both your lungs she pressed her forehead against yours, her soft red curls falling around and over her face, caressing and slightly tickling your cheeks. She gave you a few more pecks before pulling back needing to feel the skin of your face, your warmth, needing to know that this was not a dream and that you were indeed solid and real under the palm of her right hand. There was desire in everything the two of you did, but there were too many things to do tonight, people expecting you both and you had gone to all the trouble to do this for her, so Avis pushed the need to take you upstairs to the back of her head for the time being. Ace had dumped her to go partying with his friends, and probably a hooker or two, thinking she would be moping around the house like a sad drunk housewife, not thinking that Avis was resourceful and had a beautiful lady in her arms who had planned the perfect night. She was dressed to kill, and she would have the best fucking New Year of her life. About to give you another peck, Gertie accidentally broke the spell by crossing the threshold, coming from the kitchen. Both of your heads turned to look at the woman.

-I’m sorry to interrupt Mrs. Amberg, but Miss Kincaid has phoned in quite a state asking if you would be so kind as to go to Mr. Samuel’s house.

-Is she alright? – Avis pecked your cheek before setting foot on the entrance hallway, the silk flowing like water around her body with each step she took towards Gertie, her voice dressed with concern.

-She seemed… worried, perhaps angry as well ma’am and she was adamant that I tell you that she needs you to go to Mr. Samuel’s house.

-But she didn’t explain to you why?

-I’m afraid not ma’am.

-It’s okay Avis, there’s plenty of time until twelve. – the relationship Avis shared with Ellen Kincaid was long and comforting, but also frustrating and caring, and anything that woman said to Avis always helped her somehow, without fail. You had seen the Kincaid magic at work a few times since you had begun working as her secretary, calming shouting spells or angry huffs. You also knew Avis would do anything for her and had given Ellen plenty of advice about various topics throughout the years, so having her call reinforcements like this meant that someone or something was going on that only the mighty Avis could handle. You walked over to her, placing both hands on her arms, rubbing the soft fabric and the skin underneath in a comforting motion. - We won’t lose our reservations just because we are little bit late, and Miss Kincaid needs your help

-As long as you are sure about this and don’t mind driving to Dick’s house, I guess it’s alright. I can give Ellen a call though and see what she wants, save us having to go at all.

-I swear I’m fine with it, Avis. If you are worried about people seeing me with you, I’ll just stay in the car.

-What? No! I don’t give a shit about what they think, I just don’t want your plans to go down the drain.

-They won’t, I promise. We go, see what the problem is, fix it if we can and then leave. Easy plan.

-You say that now, when you are not amongst drunk actors and producers. We’ll go in but we don’t know when we might come out.

-I’ve survived shopping on Thanksgiving and Christmas. I can take a few drunks just fine. Come on, the sooner we get there, the sooner we’ll leave. - She groaned a little but followed your cue, grabbing her black stole from where it laid over the railing, throwing it over her shoulder, and picking up her purse from the little table next to the front doors. Gertie wished you both a good night, winking discreetly in your direction as you opened those big wooden gates for Avis, letting her walk into the night. You rushed over to her when you heard the click of the doors behind you, watching the lady as she stomped towards your car. – Hey, hey. Avis, wait, stop. – she halted her motions, turning around with a questioning look in her big eyes. You took her free hand in yours as soon as you reached her. – Don’t be mad, Ellen is your friend, and she might be in real trouble.

-I know. I’m not mad at her, nor you, I’m fucking pissed at Ace for not giving a shit about traditions and dumping the party on Dick. His house is not as big as ours and some of the people that get invited turn into fucking monsters when they’ve got a couple of vodkas in their system. I’m worried about Ellen, sure, but I don’t want to subject you to any of that. I don’t want you to be in harm’s way.

-I love that you want to protect me, Avis, honestly, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Ellen is our priority, and if something does happen to me while we are there, I’ll scream the house down or stab people with my heels, whatever it takes to ease your mind. But we will cross that bridge if get to it, okay?

-If someone lays a single finger on you, I’ll destroy them. Their lives, their careers, maybe even their bodies. – her eyes were dark as she stepped back into your personal space, pulling you against her frame with the hand that you were still holding, feeling the way her breasts brushed against your coat through her gown with each breath. The rush of desire that you had first felt when she had stood at the top of the stairs returned full force, the air around you both charged and hot. - They’ll remember who Avis fucking Amberg is and that she will take drastic measures when it comes to you.

-Holy fuck, Avis.

-I very much intend to do so to you, honey, but after we rescue Ellen. You’ve made a good case in her name, and you promised me a date, so get your ass in that car.

-Yes, ma’am.

-No ma’am tonight, Y/N. Until dawn, I’m simply Avis.

-Avis. – it was as if you were rolling her name in your mouth, seeing how it sounded, how it tasted on your lips and tongue, her eyes darting to the way you traced your own lipstick at the sound of it. – A most beautiful name. I can’t wait for it to be the first word I say when the New Year arrives, a name I won’t stop uttering until the very first rays of sunlight break through the sky, hopefully.

Two could play her game, you thought. She was so close to your mouth, she only needed to end the few inches gap that separated you and you would be hers to do as she pleased with, and yet she pulled away, dropping your hand and beginning to walk towards your car, hips swaying in the night. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts and calm your horny self down a little, pulling the keys from your pocket and unlocking the vehicle with shaky fingers. Avis stood on your side of the car, tracing the white top with her hand before walking behind you to round the vehicle and sit in the passenger’s seat. She took the chance though and spanked you as you bent to step inside the vehicle, a surprised yelp escaping your lips as your head wiped to look at her, an innocent expression on her face but a naughty smirk overtaking her eyes. How could you not freaking adore her when she tempted you like this! The action left a delicious sting on your ass that sent a shiver to your core as you sat down and waited for her to settle beside you. If she started behaving like his you would have to end the date earlier than anticipated so you could have your way with her. Engine on and with the car back on the road you followed Avis’s directions, her hand signalling when to turn and what exits to take. You had never been to Mr. Samuel’s residence, not that you could recall anyway and to be honest you wished that the trip wouldn’t have to be under these terms, you would have simply loved to accompany Avis and have a quiet dinner with friends, holding her hand and pecking her cheek as a thank you when she handed you a drink while engaging her friends in conversation. Things that Ace didn’t do with her because he was a fucking idiot.

Through the corner of your eyes, you saw Avis’s knee bouncing up and down, a sign that she was nervous, your right hand shooting to rest over it gently, tapping and rubbing it over her dress in calming motions. You could not take all that nervousness out of her chest, but you could try and make her feel a little bit happier and little bit less stressed. Feeling her hand on top of yours, her warmth seeping under your skin, was a delightful and quiet moment just for the two of you, her fingers playing with your ring, her free hand turning the knob of the radio up a little to hear the music better, humming to the tune. The lyrics were unfamiliar to you, but she seemed to be enjoying herself even if her leg would bounce every once in a while; you weren’t expecting her anxiety to vanish just because. And upon being pointed towards a house, cars parked everywhere with hardly any room to drive or manoeuvre your vehicle into a safe spot, you realised she had not been kidding. Mr. Samuel’s house was by no means small, compared to your tiny ass apartment, but it was small if you took Avis’s place as the standard size for a mansion. People were also everywhere, out on the street, in the garden, on balconies, literally everywhere. You were sure that if you waited for a minute someone would go up on the roof. Turning the car off Avis pulled out a cigarette from her purse, taking a deep drag before puffing the smoke into the cabin, the nicotine in her system calming her nerves a bit more. You waited though, until she was ready to step out, after all, you were doing this at her own pace, throughout the entire night you would be following her cues, never pressing, never asking or doing things she would not enjoy. A minute passed before she stepped out of the car with you in tow, flicking the butt of her cigarette onto the floor, her hand grabbing yours and pulling your body close as she made her way to the front door, smiling at people as they greeted her but never slowing her steps.

If you dropped a pin in that house, over a dozen people would get stabbed before it reached the floor, if it reached the floor. The music was blasting from the record player, people were screaming and laughing loudly, and the filters they would usually have when sober absolutely gone, the smell of alcohol floating in the air along with overwhelming perfumes that made you scrunch your nose. And Avis had to attend this sort of parties all the time? No wonder she drank, there was no way in hell a sober person could stand more than two minutes in there before going nuts. Trying to move in between all these people was a sport in itself, and trying not to bump into people’s drinks or elbows was something impossible to achieve, as you very well realised when you tried to squeeze past two men with Avis pulling on your hand and a random sharp pain had rushed up your back, making you hiss. Avis’s eyes were searching furiously for a head of blond hair belonging to Ellen, but all she could see were fake brunettes and red heads and many bald spots as she walked up a couple of stairs to get a better view and a wider range of heads. This was definitely worse than shopping at Christmas or Thanksgiving, at least you could make it to the door then. A group of over five men walked past you from upstairs, whiskeys in their hands, eyeing you both as if you were dishes on a menu. You glared, not because they were looking at you, you still had your coat on, but because they were looking at Avis, and they were not being discreet or gentlemanly about it. One of them lifted a hand, your eyes watching in slow motion how it rose up in the air and turned, fingers extended, as it went straight for Avis’s ass, though you were quick and grabbed his wrist before it collided.

-Touch her and I’ll rip your fucking hands off.

-Wow, wow, calm down sweetheart. We were just having some fun. – upon the sound of your voice, venom spewing from each word, Avis turned her head to look at you and the men she had not even taken notice of, her eyes on your hand as it still held his wrist right above her buttocks before lifting her gaze to your face. If glares could kill, they would already be dead by the way you were murdering them with your eyes.

-How much fun do you think you could have if I rip your limbs off, eh? Sweetheart.

His smile dropped, muttering “bitch” as he freed his hand from your grip and walked down the stairs with the other four twats following him. What the fuck was wrong with men thinking they could do whatever they pleased with women? It was a tale as old as time, getting catcalled, pushed away from jobs because one happened to have something that wasn’t a dick in between one’s legs, getting called emotional or hysterical when you were just fucking done with all their bullshit. No wonder ladies preferred the company of other ladies, at least if one was being a bitch, there was a good reason for it and not because a man was trying to get his hands under your skirt and you just wanted him to stop. The surprised and yet loving look that Avis was throwing your way caught you off guard, her lips mouthing a “thank you” under all the noise around you, the hand that was still holding onto yours giving a gentle squeeze. Did she think you were going to let anyone, be it a man, a woman or a fucking alien touch her without her consent? No fucking way. You reciprocated and returned the squeeze. A woman’s voice called out Avis’s name, forcing you both to break your gaze and turn to look at the foot of the stairs, Ellen standing there, wringing her hands on her chest. Avis pulled you down with her to meet the other woman, noticing a big red stain in her usual pristine blue suit.

-Thank God you are here. This is madness Avis

-What’s wrong?

-Just look around! I don’t know who half of these people are, and you know I usually don’t mind, but there was a fight not twenty minutes ago and Dick got a bottle smashed on his head! – the usually collected woman was two seconds away from a full-blown panic attack, and maybe, just maybe, you thought, the stain on her jacket might not actually be wine. A shiver of fear ran down your spine, all the anger and lust you had been feeling in the past five minutes jumping out the window. Maybe these sorts of celebrations weren’t you cup of tea after all. -Doesn’t Ace usually hire security for this sort of parties?

-Of course, I gave Dick the list with all the phone numbers.

-Well, either they got murdered in the back and we just haven’t found them, or he did not hire them.

-Alright, alright, calm down Ellen. Where’s Dick?

-In the living room. He’s got a nasty cut on his forehead, but I cleaned it up and bandaged it. Henry was with him the last time I checked, keeping an eye on him.

-Okay, let me talk with him. Y/N, you stay put. Don’t move from here at all, I’ll be back in a few minutes, I promise.

Before you could protest, she had let go of your hand, the crowded room swallowing both her and Ellen. And there you were, alone, standing at the foot of the stairs looking like an idiot with your hands in your coat pockets without knowing a single person around you. They were all glammed up, with expensive suits and gorgeous dresses that you had only seen in magazines everywhere, blinding in the lights of the chandeliers, the ceiling fuzzy under a cloud of smoke from pipes, cigars and cigarettes. Even with the doors wide open the atmosphere inside Mr. Samuel’s house was stifling, almost choking with all the heat and the smells. Without thinking twice, you untied your coat and pushed it off your shoulders, folding it over your left forearm, the relief of not cooking in your sweat a welcome feeling, resting your back against the railing. Whatever song was playing now you could not make it out over the loud conversations, not that you had much chance of trying to as you felt the touch of a hand on your waist and a glass of something transparent right on your face. The drink was being held by a manly hand, so obviously this wasn’t Avis tempting you, and following the arm attached to it you found yourself looking up at Mr. Amberg’s lawyer, Lon Silver. You had never talked with him except for perhaps a few times as you directed him into your boss’s office and the formal greetings that one was supposed to give, but it did not go unnoticed by you how his eyes remained on your chest for a few seconds too long.

-Well, Miss Y/L/N, I wouldn’t have taken you for a party girl. Here, have a drink.

-Good evening, Mr. Silver. I have only accompanied someone, so I will be leaving shortly. Parties are not my thing, sir.

-Drop the formalities, please, it’s New Year’s Eve. Go on, drink, you feel rather tense.

The grip on your waist became uncomfortably hard and rough, the strength he was applying close to being painful, his hand pushing the drink onto yours. People inside your personal bubble was always a big no-no for you, except for Avis, she could do whatever she desired, so having Lon that close to you, his strong aftershave mixing with the alcohol of his breath made all sorts of alerts just go off in your head. Your eyes moved from the glass to his face observing how dark his eyes were along with the smirk on his thin lips, your body taking a step back. That seemed to both anger him and excite him because his smile dropped completely, the glass being pushed into your arms all while his grip on your waist became nearly bruising, still you did not grab the bloody drink. The sound of glass shattering was hardly heard in the crowded hall, but it seemed to echo in your head, reverberating as the drink crashed against the tiles and Lon pushed his body closer, his other hand now holding onto your wrist. It was as if your mind was frozen in place. This was Mr. Amberg’s lawyer, he could destroy you in the blink of an eye, but you did not want him, at all. That fear that had overtaken you not that long ago after hearing Ellen’s words was reaching the panicking peak now, heart racing, blood pumping in your ears.

-Sir, please, let go.

-It’s always the same with you young girls, isn’t it? You dress like this, to draw the eye but when a man looks at you, you all become frigid bitches.

-Mr. Silver, please, you are drunk.

-So what? That hasn’t stopped me from fucking others before.

-Please, stop, let go of me. I’m sure you would not do this sober.

-Wouldn’t I? I would have done unspeakable things to you already if I had had the chance. Which I do now, so don’t be a bitch. We’ll both enjoy it. – his head was in the crook of your neck, smelling you in. You only had two options, you thought, pray that someone would come to the rescue or step on his foot with your stiletto hoping that he would let go and you could run for your life.

-LON! – fate had chosen for you, thank God.

Avis’s voice carried from under the living room threshold with such ease, the redhead having screamed practically at the top of her lungs, startling everyone in the hallway. The man she addressed in particular jumped in his spot, letting your wrist go but not your waist, turning to face the woman. His face was contorted in a fake smile and a sweet greeting.

-Why Avis! Aren’t you supposed to be with Ace? Oh, right, he’d rather spend his time with someone else.

-Oh, Lon, still behaving like a fucking pervert, I see.

Her steps were so hard against the floor that you thought one of her heels could snap at any moment, but you did not care much right now. Your body had sighed with relief upon hearing her, even if you were still in Mr. Silver’s grip and could not wait for her to say something so he would let you go. She was beyond angry, you could see it in the way her body moved, her fists closed, her eyes hard and cold under her eyelashes. Reaching you both she did not hesitate, everyone staring at them, the noise having died down a little, thankfully, and grabbed his crotch with her right hand, nails digging hard into his flesh. He screamed loudly and painfully and dropped both his hands to hold her arm, freeing you, almost as if he thought her capable of ripping his junk off with one quick motion. Thinking about it for a second you thought she could actually do it by how furious she was. Pushing yourself off the railing you rushed her way, standing behind her while rubbing your wrist a bit trying to soothe the red spot that had covered your sensitive skin, body shaking as the adrenaline released into your bloodstream.

-Who the fuck do you think you are?

-Avis, let go!

-Why should I? You did not let go of her, did you? Did you?!

-No! No! Jesus, Avis, let go!

-I’m saying this one time and one time only. – her grip became harder, her knuckles white with the effort, Lon turned into a ball of whimpers and whines of pain as his eyes filled with tears. – If you touch her again, even so much as breath near her again, I’ll blow your dick and balls off with a shotgun.

-Alright! Alright!

-No, I don’t think you get the message. Would you like a demonstration, cause I’m sure I can get my hands on a gun.

-NO! FOR FUCK’S SAKES AVIS, LET GO! I’M SORRY! I’M SORRY!

Satisfied with the tears that ran down his cheeks she finally let him go, the man dropping to his knees with his hands covering his crotch, whimpering pathetically. He was like a little baby, curled on the floor. Neither you nor Avis felt a touch of sympathy for him and his pain though; he was lucky in fact, she could have done horrible things to him in that hallway if she had had the weapons, and no one would have known what had happened as they were all too drunk to even stand straight. Her hands shot to your cheeks as she turned around, her eyes roaming like crazy all over your body to make sure you were alright, the hatred and fury that had glazed them now completely changed over to concern and worry. It did not go unnoticed the way her eyes lingered on your dress, but she was quick to shake herself out of looking at you with lust, she still needed to assess that that man had not harmed you in any way. This was what she had feared, not him in particular, but anyone who could have seen your pretty face and decided they wanted you for themselves. This time she had got lucky and had intervened right on time before he could have done anything truly horrid to you, but that did not shake the feeling that she had failed you, out of her chest. In your head the only thought that was going around and around was that she had saved you, that the entire ordeal was over and she had saved you, which overtook every feeling of fear that man had imposed on you. After all nothing had happened to you, he didn’t get the chance, and you were not going to let him ruin your and Avis’s night.

-Are you okay? Has he hurt you? You are rubbing your wrist; did he twist it? Do you need a doctor?

-I’m fine, Avis.

-But its red, it probably hurts. – her warm hands moved from your cheeks to your arm, holding your hand gently to inspect the redness that was already vanishing.

-I’m fine, Avis.

-I’m sure there’s a doctor somewhere in here. Let me ask Ellen sh-

-Avis! – she stopped her rambling at the sound of your voice, her eyes locking with yours, her movements still at last. – I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me, my lady in shining armour came to my rescue and made sure of that. I’m fine.

-You are fine?

-I’m fine.

-Alright, I believe you. But at the slightest thing I’m taking you to a doctor.

-If it leaves your mind at ease, I’ll let you drag me all throughout Hollywood.

It was lucky Lon was already on the floor because Dick had stepped out into the hallway searching for Avis, her voice having carried well into the street, and he would have flipped at the sight of her with her hand on Lon’s crotch making him cry. Ellen stopped him from approaching either of you, whispering in his ear while pointing at the ball of flesh on the floor and you two, chuckling silently at the socked expression on his face. What a party, he thought. Avis’s hand was back in yours, fingers intertwined, pulling your body towards the front door all while asking Ellen if there was anything else she needed to do, to which the blond woman answered with a no. She blew a kiss at both of her friends while wishing them a good night and a happy New Year, still walking towards the street, only to stop for an instant when she heard Lon yelling that he was going to end her by telling Ace, at which she did not even bother to turn around. She didn’t need to see his face to answer him.

-Fuck off, Lon.

With Avis beside you now, it was easier to move on from the fear and craziness of the entire situation, laughing after a moment or two, your hot breath turning into translucent steam in the cold air of the night as you let Avis carry on pulling you. Only a few handful of people would remember this party, and it was both a good and a sad thing, but at least you could enjoy the hilarious points of tonight right there and then as you unlocked the door of your car, stepping inside it after throwing your coat on the back seats. God, the look on his face… you should have taken a picture. Avis was surprised at your response, thinking that maybe the adrenaline had overtaken you, and this was your body’s reaction to such a crazy thing. Still, she chuckled lightly before beginning to laugh alongside you as if she had been infected by it, her forehead on your shoulder, both bodies shaking uncontrollably. It was always joyous to hear her laugh, her body relaxed against yours, her voice loud and melodious echoing against the car top in absolute glee. You thought she didn’t get to enjoy herself like this often and she deserved it, even if the motive right now was less than pleasant. Wiping a tear that had gathered at the corner of your eye, you took a few calming breaths trying to stop the nearly continuous chuckles that melted along with Avis’s as she pushed herself against the door. When you finally caught your breath, it was impossible not to smile at the reddish blush that had spread over Avis’s cheeks, neck, and chest, her hair framing her face, complementing it beautifully. Even the light from the streetlamps seemed to be working in her favour tonight, making her eyes shine like rich molten chocolate and her hair like fire against her olive kissed skin skin.

She was doing nothing, absolutely nothing, and yet your body was on fire once more, the last few minutes forgotten in the back of your head. Perhaps it had been the entire act of saving you and the consequences that it had brought upon Lon, maybe it had been the way she had thanked you for protecting her from those jerks. Maybe it was the balance, the union of making sure you were both safe, you could not be sure, but you did know that you wanted her, here and now, and by the way her smile moved from simple relaxation and fun to desire, she had thought the exact same thing. It was not as if the car was a stranger to the two of you fucking in it. But this time it didn’t feel like you were simply lusting after her as you knelt on the seats, crawling towards her until her back was pressed firmly against the car door, your hands resting beside her hips but without touching, you face inches from hers, it was love. Her dress had fallen open as her legs parted to accommodate you, those firm and shapely legs dressed in nude silk that could drive you insane. Your tongue traced and licked her half-ajar lips, feeling her hot breath on your mouth, the carmine like a drug that could drive you wild. Pupils were blown wide, breaths rapid, nearly coming in pants when your hands moved onto her legs, fingering the fabric of the clip on her left thigh, feeling the way her skin rose in goosebumps, a quiet moan escaping Avis’s lips, those utterly desirable lips that were brushing against yours, those lips that had fought for you, threatened for you, pleased you and taken you to the heavens. Those lips that you claimed against yours.

It was rough and messy, but it also held a loving nature that made Avis sigh against your mouth, both your tongues battling for dominance, her teeth scrapping your upper lip. Both her hands had shot to the back of your head to keep you firmly pressed against her, chest against chest. Your hands moved from her stockings to her inner thighs as slowly as you could, drawing out whimpers and whines that were muffled by your kisses, teasing the edge of her knickers. That simple motion made her gasp loudly, one of her hands holding onto your wrist to prevent it from moving away from where she needed it the most. You let her guide you, fingers swiping against the lace feeling how wet she already was. Had her playing saviour turned her on?

Her head fell back against the window as your fingers worked on her through the fabric, whimpering when you removed them completely only to scream an instant later when you pushed the offending garment aside and plunged two fingers deep inside her. As much as you wanted to trail kisses down her exposed neck you did not want to risk staining the dress cherry red, so your lips remained upon hers as your fingers pumped in and out of her, curling to hit that spot. Avis had not had this in mind at all when you had both left the house, but she was not going to complain when you were working her into an orgasm that she could feel building in her core, like a fire that had begun to sparkle and was rapidly growing and blazing. Her hips thrust to meet your movements, your free hand using one of those moments when her hips were up in the air to remove the dress from underneath her, the feeling of the leather under her ass enticing her even further.

The whines and whimpers were growing into pants and moaning gasps. With your thumb you rubbed her clit, the surprised yelp that escaped her throat swallowed by your lips, the speed of your fingers never faltering. She was mumbling in your mouth, but you could not make out her words, not that you needed to, her body was signalling that she was close with the way her walls were clenching around your fingers. After giving her clit a hard rub her orgasm overtook her, catching you both off guard, her head lulled back as her back arched off the door forcing your kiss to end as her voice rose in high pitched gasps. Even in this cloud of pleasure, she was trying so hard not to scream your name at the top of her lungs, there were too many people that would be able to hear her, her juices all over your fingers, walls and thighs trembling, her hands grabbing onto your shoulders for dear life. You slowed the pace of your fingers, rubbing her calf with your other hand to bring her gently down from her high, her body slumping against the car door after a moment, her breasts nearly spilling out of her dress as her breaths returned slowly to normal. Her eyes were closed as if she could savour the pleasure you had given her for a bit longer like that, opening them when she felt you pull your fingers out. She watched mesmerized how you took a handkerchief out of your purse to clean her up as gently as you could, her body twitching whenever you brushed her swollen clit, returning her underwear to its initial position once you were satisfied with your work. Bending forward you gave her inner thighs a gentle peck before sitting back on your knees.

-What was that for? – her voice was quiet, a lazy smile on her lips, fingers playing with the chain around your neck basking in the afterglow.

-For saving me, for being my lady in shining armour, for nearly ripping Mr. Silver’s balls off… For simply being you, Avis.

-For being me? You know you don’t have to do this every time I do something for you.

-Trust me, it was no effort on my part besides, it is my most sincere opinion that you should always be shown just how wonderful and perfect you are.

-I like that you seem to not be bothered by my many faults. Ace would have gone insane had he seen what I did to his precious lawyer.

-Good thing I’m not Ace. I know when I have the most extraordinary woman in front of me, and instead of taking her for granted, I take her to dinner. If you still want to.

-Of course! You worked too hard for this; I won’t let my own lust and desire ruin your plans. This orgasm can last me until midnight, so surprise me Y/N, take me wherever you want.

-To the Heavens then.

-Oh, you soppy girl.

-No, the restaurant is called the Heavens, I swear.

It was stupid, an absolute nonsense that made you both laugh, a little quieter this time. This is how you wanted to spend every minute of your life, with her, not a worry in the world. Avis moved to sit properly on the passenger seat, draping her skirt back over her legs and pulling a cigarette out as you settled yourself behind the wheel. The ride was completely different this time. The air around you was calm, relaxed, and contented, the tune on the radio suddenly a song you knew like the back of your hand, humming quietly as Avis began to sing. You had never known she possessed such a beautiful voice, sweet as honey, gentle like a breeze with a pitch so perfect you wondered if she had ever done anything that wasn’t simply perfect in her entire life. It was outstanding, to say the least. 

Your breath hitched in your lungs at her words, stunned by the emotion that dripped in between the music, her hand searching for yours where it laid beside you on your seat, intertwining your fingers. She didn’t need you to tell her how you felt, she knew, in everything you did, in every glance, every smile, every kiss, and every word that left your lips. Singing her feelings to you was the best way for her to let you know how she felt, that in her life Ace was the other woman. This was what the meaning of the word happy meant to you, what it had brought to your bleak and monotone life, and dressed it in colourful clothes and astonishing sunsets.

Time after time

I tell myself that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

Many nights you had dreamt of that, opening the door to your apartment to find her curled up on the couch, waiting for you. You hadn’t wanted her to spend the evenings alone in that big house, you had wanted to be beside her, no matter what people thought. The lights of the side streets weren’t as bright as the main avenue, but that gentle hue seemed to agree with Avis, watching her sway her head at the beat of the music, her eyes closed. How could light play such games that with a full moon over your heads its glow always bathed her at the perfect angle making you melt in your seat. She looked like she belonged in a movie, her body gently bent over a balcony railing letting the moon wash over her as her love serenated her.

So lucky to be

The one you run to see in the evening

When the day is through

I only know what I know

The passing years will show

You've kept my love so young, so new

You had parked in front of a colourful restaurant, nearly hitting the trunk of a blue Lincoln that was stationed in front of you as your eyes had been bewitched by Avis, loud voices surrounding the car from the people that were either leaving or going into the restaurant, but they were nothing but background noise to you. Avis’s eyes locked with yours, you seemed to be doing that a lot tonight, singing the words directly at you, never blinking. Your heart fluttered in your chest, once more her mouth telling you that she was so lucky to be loving you, her voice dropping from singing to speaking the last line, stating a fact. And your greedy heart accepted it because to you the meaning of happy was Avis. The rest of the song went by in silence, both of you lost in each other so deep that the world could have vanished around you, and you wouldn’t have taken notice, your lips pecking hers, foreheads pressed together. If time could be stopped, you would have done so right there and then never wanting to move on from this. The next song on the radio was a cheerful Christmas song, but the change in tune did not break the spell, it only seemed to enhance the joy of the moment as you turned the engine off and stepped out, pulling her towards you into the street.

And time after time

You'll hear me say that I'm

So lucky to be loving you

The atmosphere was contagious, people singing off-key and dancing clumsily over the pavement. Pulling Avis against your chest you joined in the simple bliss of the moment, swaying from side to side with one hand on her waist while the other held onto hers, twirling among the people. It made her laugh, following your steps that seemed to be getting closer to the restaurant door, an older couple clapping as you twirled Avis under your arm before pressing her against you, dipping her. Her laughter only became louder, gleeful, with her body arched towards the floor, her precious red waves falling free. Returning her to her feet as she caught her breath, she let you guide her and open the door so she could go in first. What a lady you were. She was taken aback by how beautiful that place was, the entrance hall covered in frescos that reminded her of the Sistine Chapel, a gorgeous semicircular arch in white marble dividing the entryway from the dining room, the lights dim but not so much that one wouldn’t be able to see where they were going, adding to the mystical atmosphere. A young man approached her dressed in a black suit with a name tag on his lapel, greeting her kindly and asking if she had made a reservation. Avis nodded, turning her head in your direction as you let the door close, stepping inside the restaurant. The man’s eyes suddenly shone in recognition, greeting you excitedly, smiling down at Avis so she would not feel pushed aside or left out.

-Y/N! We were all worried you weren’t coming!

-Hello, Marco. We got caught up in something, but we are here now. How is your father?

-You know, in the kitchen. He’s been asking me for the last hour if you had arrived.

-You can tell him now that I’m here, and that I’ve said to leave you alone. – Avis watched the exchange with curiosity, the boy’s English good but with a very thick Italian accent, his hands gesturing as if they had strings and were being controlled by an external force. There was a comforting glow on your face at the sight of the boy, as if you had been lifelong friends, perhaps as if he were a brother. Your eyes drifted towards her, taking her hand and placing it in the crook of your arm, smiling sweetly at her. - Oh, Marco, this is Avis Amberg, my dinner guest for tonight.

-Pleased to meet you, Signoria Amberg. Y/N has spoken so much about you.

-Good things, I hope.

-Of course! She’s taken with you. Please, follow me.

She had never been to this restaurant before, but it had clearly been there for a while now, the dining room absolutely filled up with people. The walls were covered in stained glass windows, the ceiling decorated with gorgeous chandeliers, the floor made out of white marble as pictures and paintings of beautiful landscapes dressed the empty spots on the walls. It had a wonderful homely touch in every detail, names carved on the pillars that were disguised as columns, like something one would find inside temples, old photographs of people that were clearly simple folk from somewhere outside glamorous Hollywood in every corner. The conversations were loud and buzzing with excitement, children laughing and playing, old couples holding hands, smiling at each other. This place was so different from those fancy places that she frequented with Dick and Ellen or that she would take producers and actors to butter them up. This place was wholesome, it had a history seeping through every crack and corner, and Avis could not think of a better place for her to be than here with you. Marco guided you both through tables, speaking with some of the guests in Italian, switching to English as he addressed others, the gentle sound of music in the background in a mix of songs from both countries that pleased the guests. Coming to a hallway he opened a black door showing a spacious room with a table in the back, in front of a huge stained glass window.

-Here you are Signoria Amberg. Y/N – he bowed his head before closing the door, leaving you alone. Avis was shocked not only because the room was even more beautiful than she could have imagined, walls dressed in white wood, the ceiling filled with images of fields of lemons and olive trees painted al fresco, but because she knew how hard and how much this sort of rooms cost.

-A private booth? Y/N, this must have cost you a fortune, I would have been alright with a table in the main dining room.

-I know, but Marco’s father never gives me one. This room is my room whenever I come here, so he doesn’t actually make me pay for it. “It is yours until I die,” he says to me, so I’ve stopped fighting.

-How long have you known these people? You seem like part of the family. – she was looking around the room, her hands tracing the shapes of the columns, feeling the warmth of the tinted wood under her fingertips. She clearly liked the place, the lump that had formed in your throat when she had first stepped inside the restaurant vanishing. You had been worried there for a moment that she would not like it and would ask you to take her somewhere else, but her eyes shone with excitement and her frame relaxed, so there was nothing to worry about in the end.

-Well, when I came to Hollywood a few good years ago I came across Marco who needed help with the restaurant as they were building it, so I offered a helping hand. I’ve been a part of the family ever since. It’s not an exciting story I’m afraid.

-Not every story needs to be exciting to be good, don’t you think? You were alone and now you have them… and me. That’s the best story in my opinion.

-Bimba! – the doors practically flew off their hinges at the force the man standing under the threshold used, his frame tall and big frame, rounded stomach, and hairy face filling up the room, that deep rambling voice tainted with a thick Italian accent, just like his son, bouncing off the walls. It startled you both, Avis practically jumping on the spot, a graceful hand on her chest.

-Jesus, Giuseppe, you nearly killed me there.

-Ah, nonsense! It’s good to see you again, you have been away for too long.

-I came by three days ago!

-As I said, too long. Ah, who is this bellissima signoria? – in two big strides he was towering over Avis, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, a gentle blush spreading over her cheeks at the gesture. If this weren’t the two people you knew the most in the world, you would be jealous, but Avis would never leave you for him and he would never leave his wife for Avis, of that you were sure, still you glided to her side, placing your hands on her shoulder to look up at the big man.

-This is Avis Amberg.

-She is the woman you never shut up about?

-Giuseppe!

-What? It is you who talks about her, not me. So, Avis, may I call you Avis, nah, I will call you Avis, how do you like our Y/N?

-Giuseppe, please. – Avis thrived in the way you hid your face in the crook of her neck as if you could run away from the embarrassing conversation, both your bodies shaking lightly with Avis’s laughter. God, she wished she could see you, you would probably be the most delectable shade of red.

-Since you asked, I like her very much Mr…

-Call me Giuseppe. So, you like her, and she likes you… Ahhh, l’amore. So beautiful. When I met my Teresa, I thought she was horrible. She had a temper that could make her fight in a war, but when I talked with her, I knew I wanted her to be yelling at me forever. So, I married her. Now you have found your Teresa, Y/N, and I hope she yells at you exactly like you dreamed she would.

You didn’t quite want Avis to yell at you, more along the lines of you making her scream, but in a way he was right. You had found the woman of your dreams, you just had to make sure her husband never found out. Lifting your head from Avis’s shoulder, the orange blossom aroma of her hair filling your lungs, making you feel all warm and fuzzy, Giuseppe caressed your cheek with his big hand. He was a second father to you and his main project in life was to make sure all his kids were happy, including you, and although he did not understand in full why you would prefer a woman over a man, he could see the light in your eyes, the pink on your cheeks, how your days had moved from repetitive boring documents to finding a purpose. But what he could see most of all was that this older woman that you had in your arms shared that same light. Two perfect halves that had found each other, complementing the other, seeing the angles that the other person couldn’t, protecting and loving each other without a doubt, without expectations. He patted Avis’s hand gently before guiding you both to the table, pushing the chair to let the older woman sit first before moving on to yours, two menus already waiting on top of the table. He made his excuses to allow you to look at the dishes, closing the door and leaving you alone once more.

-He’s quite something.

-He’s passionate. He wanted to be a painter, a writer, an actor, anything and everything, so he feels things quite deeply. He did not offend you, did he?

-No, not at all. One would think that living surrounded by actors you should be used to this sort of thing, the passion, the art, but no. They are superficial boring people, most of them anyway. This Giuseppe has the heart of an artist, the emotions. It is a change from parrots that vomit scripts in front of a camera. – her eyes drifted onto the menus in her hands, looking at all the wonderful dishes that were written. - So why is he a chef?

-Because of his Teresa. She taught him all the things his mother could not, and he learnt, quite fast.

-Because he loves her.

-How could he not? She came into his life when he was down, broken, tired and bored of doing nothing with his life and she brought him spice, and sex, and happiness and how could anyone say no to the person that changes them for the better? How could he say no to his Teresa? How could I say no to you?

Her heart did not leap, it somersaulted, in her chest upon hearing your words, unsure if the first part was how you had felt before she had walked into your life or if it was indeed how the man had felt. It was true on both accounts. Her eyes drifted to look at you over the menu, seeing that you were looking back at her, the moment still in time. Avis had cried for too long about her life, her marriage, about how alone she felt as if she were just an accessory to Ace’s life destined to do nothing, be nothing. But suddenly you were there, and all that pain and hurt from the past decade or so had vanished into nothing, care and love blooming, feeling like she mattered for the first time in her life, and all the credit was yours to take. You had picked up her pieces and instead of gluing them together temporarily like Ernie had been doing for years, you were actively fixing her. There was no transaction, no contract to be fulfilled, no promotions or brand-new careers to begin, it was just little you giving little Avis what her heart needed the most.

Marco came back a couple of minutes later to take note of your drinks, informing you that the kitchen would stop serving warm dishes thirty minutes before midnight. Checking the clock on the wall you saw that it was fifteen minutes away from eleven thirty, so hurriedly you took Avis’s menu and began pointing at dishes telling her which ones were good and which ones were a little bit less good, earning a chuckle from Marco, making mental notes whenever she said that she didn’t like an ingredient for future dates. In the end, you settled on a two-person parmigiana di melanzane, a side of ruschette, which Giuseppe knew you adored, Eggs in Purgatory, and a bowl of chicken pastina. It was a lot of food, you knew, but there were just so many things you wanted her to try, so perhaps you had gone a little bit overboard, not that whatever was left would go to waste, no, Teresa would wrap it for you so you could take it home, maybe even make some extra bits here and there so Avis could take them home as well. True that she was nearly their age, but Teresa was a mother to everyone, be it a three-year-old or a fifty-year-old, and leftovers were leftovers in Hollywood and Italy. Marco wrote it all down before excusing himself, the sounds of the main dining room seeping into your booth for a moment before it all turned silent again. An idea popped into your head. Standing from your chair you made your way to the left corner of the room, next to the door, where a record player rested on top of a small table along with a box filled with vinyls. Avis rested against the back of her chair, lower lip in between her teeth, one leg crossed over the other allowing her knees to peek through the opening of her dress as she observed you flick through the disks, your curvaceous body moving gently, pulling one out after a minute.

She did not quite catch the title of the album, not that she was paying much attention when there was so much of your skin exposed for her to feast on, her eyes raking and drinking in every inch of flesh, waiting for you to finish settling the disk, placing the needle on top and turning the machine on. There was only the sound of the needle scratching over the vinyl for a moment before the soft chords of an acoustic guitar began to play. Of course you would choose a love song, you just couldn’t help yourself, but she did not mind at all, she hadn’t felt like a lovesick teenager in far too long and how could she ever be mad at you when you were walking towards her with you palm extended asking her to dance. She took it without hesitation, letting her body be pulled towards yours, her hands resting over your shoulders while she felt the warmth of your palms around her waist. The song was quiet, gentle in its tones making the words the centre of attention, a confession that was so close to slipping out of your lips, right at the tip of your tongue. You began to sway slowly, your feet not moving from the spot in the middle of the room, a place just for the two of you, no Ace, no studio, no Ellen or Lon, just Avis and you. You had both danced many times in your life, but nothing could compare to this private moment.

-I have not told you yet, but you look beautiful. That dress looks exquisite on you.

-Did you forget to compliment me and are trying to fix it before midnight? It’s alright if you did, we’ve had a hectic night.

-I did not, I was too in awe of you that I could not find the words. Saying that you look beautiful feels like such a weak compliment, perhaps I should say that you look bewitching, stunning, divine… I could go on you know.

-I wouldn’t mind if you did. – you just couldn’t get enough of her, be it her perfume, her gorgeous red lips, the way she looked at you with those big brown eyes of hers that made your legs grow weak. You would never understand how her husband did not fall to his knees every time she set foot in a room, it was madness. - It would be a change from only complimenting me when I’m in my underwear.

-As if you don’t do the same.

-No, I compliment you when you are not in your underwear, it’s different.

-And would you want me in nothing but my pearls if we were somewhere else? A chance to make sure I’m not in my underwear?

In the light of the chandelier, you could see how her pupils were blown wide, nearly overtaking the brown of her irises, the grip she had on your shoulders harder than before, her short nails scraping the nape of your neck. A quiet groan slipped out of your lips at the feeling, goosebumps all over your skin, her lips brushing yours but never truly kissing, the music still guiding you both around the room. The grip on her waist was harder, fingering the fabric, surprised that you could actually feel the lace of her corselette through the silk of her gown. God, you wanted her so bad, but it would be far too inappropriate to take her on top of the table when anyone could come in and call you out on your behaviour, you would just need to wait. Not that this foreplay was a bad thing, your eyes counting all the freckles that were exposed on her chest, licking your lips as the swells of her breasts rose and fell. Avis’s head was spinning, your berries shower gel powerful enough that she could almost taste it on her tongue along with your cherry lipstick, your long neck so tempting. She could bend and leave her mark right on your collarbone, make sure everyone knew you were hers, but she could not subject you to a reprimand from these lovely people you had learnt to love as family. She would have to wait.

The next song came, filling the space with violins that echoed off the walls, allowing you to take her hands from your shoulders so you could actually twirl her around the room, her skirt swaying in fluid motions around both your legs. You were quite the dancer she realised, feeling her body follow your cues with such ease, not bothering to stop when the door opened and in came Marco with Avis’s martini and your French 75. If he had wanted to comment, he had thought better than to actually say whatever had crossed his mind, keeping his lips tight and slipping out of the room as quietly as he could, not before letting his eyes linger as you spun Avis around, pressing her back against your chest, her hair flying around her like the fire she could make you feel with just a look of her adoring eyes. It was utterly delightful to have this woman that you had never in a million years thought would even look your way, in your arms absolutely relaxed. A moment later Marco came back with the bowl of pastina and the Eggs in Purgatory, assuring you the main course would be out soon along with the bruschette, your eyes twinkling at the sound of that. You hadn’t realised how famished you were until the delicious smell of tomato sauce and chicken broth filled the room, Avis’s stomach growling right on cue. She chuckled, placing a hand on her abdomen as you guided her to the table, the music still playing in the background.

It looked delicious and tasted even better once you had both settled on your chairs, napkins on your laps, forks digging in the eggs. Avis moaned loudly as she took the first bite, her eyes closed and her head lulled back, triggering an utterly indecent response in your body, your knickers pooling at the sight. How could everything this woman did be so positively sexy, no matter what it was, it was an entire research you were willing to perform yourself, no help needed. You imagined a drop of sauce falling right on top of her breast, your tongue aiming to please as you licked it off her skin, several times, to make sure she was perfectly clean, pushing the top of her dress down to reveal that she was indeed wearing nothing, a dream to think she could ever do that. Your thighs pressed together, shaking your head to try and vanish the image so could enjoy the food before Avis had it all. And the eggs were indeed delicious, the acidity of the sauce and the sharp flavour of the garlic mixing with the softness of the egg. By George, Teresa was an angel in the kitchen. In only a few minutes both plates were cleared, though you did not eat much, Avis’s moans were far too distracting, perhaps it was all a ploy so she could actually eat the whole thing while also working you up, killing two birds with one stone. Breaking your gaze from how she was now cleaning up around her mouth with her middle finger, you glanced at the clock. Only twenty minutes until midnight. This time it was Giuseppe who came in around five minutes later with the parmigiana, placing a tray with several bruschette in front of you along with a big ball of mozzarella dressed in olive oil and some basil and salt, giving you a kiss on top of your head. His deep voice spoke to Avis -Buon appetite- before bowing his head, slipping back into the kitchen. You picked up your drink, tasting the gin on your tongue with your eyes on her as she took in the food.

-How was the pastina, Avis? I think I only got to smell it.

-Ha ha, very funny. Do you want us to divide this meal?

-And miss hearing you enjoy them because I’m too busy eating? I don’t think so. Here, try this, I’m sure you have never had anything this good in your life.

The mozzarella dripped beautifully on the plate as you sliced it open, the cream inside the perfect consistency. Picking up a bruschetta from your plate, returning a fallen tomato to the top, you picked some of the mozzarella with a spoon, draping it over the bread before bending over the table with one hand under it to catch any crumbs. Avis bend slightly to meet you in the middle, opening her mouth and taking a bite, her eyes never leaving yours, her lips touching your fingers before she pulled away tasting your creation. The moan that she produced was loud and sensual, like the ones she had made when you had been in the car, her finger picking up a fallen drop of the cheese over her lips, licking the tip without breaking eye contact. The room was stifling now, her hand grabbing your wrist so she could take another bite of the bread, her tongue wrapping around your fingers to lick them clean. She sat back against her chair basking in the way she had you wrapped around her little finger without having done so much as to use her mouth, something that she was very good at judging by your reactions. Picking up your drink you downed it in one go needing to lubricate your throat, the cracked ice cooling your body a little, but only a little.

As much as she was enjoying tempting and driving you mad like this, she wanted you to eat, so she picked up some of the Parmigiana and placed it on your plate before serving herself. Taking her cue, you dived in, the aubergines perfectly cooked, the melted cheese making a beautiful pull as you took a bite, needing to use the fork to break the string. Her exquisite palate had tasted the best champagne, the most expensive caviars, imported meats, and exotic fruits and yet the meal presented to her tonight was the best of them all. It was homemade with love, with care, and maybe the products didn’t cost a fortune, but they were still good, perhaps grown by Giuseppe and his wife. Next time she had to plan a lunch date with Ellen, she would bring her here. You ate calmly, engaging Avis in conversation every so often though the silence that sometimes filled the room was never deafening nor uncomfortable, the music still playing in the background. With the table now filled with empty plates and both your stomachs satisfied there was nothing else to do but wait; only five minutes left until midnight.

-So, what was wrong with Ellen? We got caught up and I never really asked.

-It was pure miscommunication. – she brought the martini to her lips, leaving a red mark on the rim. - Ace usually hires extra security when we do parties at the house, so when I gave Dick the list of phone numbers, the company we usually use was there. Well, Dick did phone them, but they got confused and ended up not writing the address, so when the time came to send the guys down there was nowhere for them to go.

-And didn’t they call to ask where the party was?

-They say that they did but I’m not sure. Dick says that the phone hasn’t rang all afternoon. Anyway, I gave them the address and told them to get their asses over to Dick’s place immediately or we would go without their services in the future.

-But why was Ellen so distraught?

-Didn’t you see the bandage on Dick’s head? The woman was a minute away from needing an ambulance after the fight happened. It’s a miracle she didn’t call the police.  But everything’s alright now, I hope.

-If it isn’t they will have to fend for themselves, because I didn’t tell anyone where I was taking you.

-I’ll drink to that.

The rest of the martini went down her throat, the glass on the table just as Marco came back with an empty tray. Avis was the one to talk with him this time, telling him that the food was magnificent, to give her most sincere congratulations to the cooks as he picked up plates, staking them along with the empty glasses, a gentle blush on his cheeks as he thanked the woman. It wasn’t as if Avis had any trouble communicating with people, her charisma and outgoing personality helped her in that department, but it warmed your heart to see that she was trying her best to connect with your adopted family. None of the boyfriends or girlfriends you had brought here had even bothered to talk with them, probably one of the main reasons you had sent them packing. You didn’t even get the chance to open your mouth though before Giuseppe burst in with a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and two bowls. He was talking a mile a minute, mixing Italian and English in a gibberish that neither of you understood, but he was excited and didn’t care, a short woman with deep emerald eyes and dark hair popping her head through the doors calling for him. She blew you a kiss before pulling her husband out the door, Avis observing with an amused expression how you laughed as you said hi to Teresa. She understood the reason behind the champagne, but she missed why there were two bowls of grapes on the table.

-Y/N, honey, what’s with the grapes? I thought the usual Italian dessert was tiramisu.

-It is, one of many, anyway. No, the grapes are a tradition from my home. – she sat a little bit straighter on the chair, resting her head on her hand while listening intensely to your explanation, her big eyes taking in every word that left your lips. – In the last twelve seconds of the years you are supposed to eat twelve grapes.

-Isn’t that a bit of a choking hazard?

-Yes, but it’s much more fun than it sounds. Eating them all before the New Year arrives its supposed to bring good luck, but now it’s more of a fun game. You just look around and see who’s laughing even before they’ve started eating, who goes hysterical with a mouthful of them, who’s like in a corner eating them without a single emotion in their system, you know, just have fun with your friends and family eating twelve grapes. Some people are pros and finish the bowl way before the twelve seconds are over and then there’s the people who watch that laugh after the New Year has arrived.

-I had never heard of such a thing. I’ve been to so many places and I’ve never bothered with anything that wasn’t boutiques or fancy restaurants. We really do have our heads up in our own asses, don’t we?

-I wouldn’t say that. You are a woman of the world, but I don’t expect you to know everything about every single place you’ve been to, and I know there’s so much I don’t know about your home, Avis but you don’t punish me for it. There’s plenty of time to learn. What I do hope is that you’ll share this tradition with me. I promise the grapes are small.

-Anything for you, honey. And if I do choke, I’ll have you to resuscitate me. Come over here, let me see if you know how to do mouth-to-mouth.

Who were you to deny her proof? Standing from your chair you rounded the table until your body was towering over hers, bending so that your hands were resting on the chair, your mouth inches from hers. Finally, she rose a little from her seat to meet your lips, relief washing over your body like a wave, allowing you to relax in her grip as her hands rested on your hips, drawing you to sit on her lap. Upon feeling her teeth nibbling on your lower lip you opened your mouth, granting her the access she desired. Both tongues battled against each other, yours more lazily than hers, after all, she was the one who thrived in having control over you. Slipping from the top of the chair your hands threaded in between her soft locks, pulling gently. She groaned in your mouth, the grip on your hips harder, pushing you closer to her. Parting after a moment, lungs screaming for air, you heard the commotion outside the room growing bigger, Avis’s eyes looking at the clock over your shoulder. A minute she whispered in your ear. Plenty of time for you to share another kiss you thought, drawing her face back to yours for a few more seconds, tracing her lips with your tongue, removing what little she had left of her carmine.

Not moving from your spot in her lap after breaking the kiss you handed her a bowl before picking up yours, eyes glued to the clock. Thirty seconds. Your heart was racing in your chest with excitement, just like when you had been a kid, waiting with trembling fingers. Twenty seconds. Avis could not help the smile that painted her swollen lips at your enthusiasm, watching as you did a quiet countdown. Fifteen seconds. You picked up the first grape, motioning for Avis to do the same. Fourteen, thirteen, twelve! You popped the first one in, then another, and another, all while chewing as fast as your jaw would allow, eyes focused on the bowl otherwise you would start laughing. Four more grapes went down the gullet but there were still a few seconds left; you could make it. Another one in, and another one and you were practically swallowing them whole, but you were almost there, just three grapes left. Just when you had finished chewing and swallowing the last one the clock struck twelve, howls filling the air around you. With the brightest smile in the world, you tilted your bowl to show Avis only to be made a fool when she showed you hers, lifting the hand that had been on your hip with four fingers stretched.

-Avis! Four seconds to spare?!

-What can I say, I’m a pro.

-Next time I’ll get the big ones.

-And you think I haven’t had anything bigger in my mouth? – God, she really knew what to say to turn you on even further, the fire that had been growing steadily all night practically blazing. - Now my turn for a tradition, American style. -Her lips crashed against yours, her hand on your back pressing you impossibly close to her body. The kiss was bruising but oh so erotic and delightful and you never wanted it to end, but there was a toast still waiting and in that joyous moment when everything was perfect you wondered what she would taste like after having had a glass of champagne.  After a few instants Avis broke the kiss, panting slightly. – Happy New Year Y/N.

-Happy New Year, Avis.

Hurriedly you stood from her lap, pulling her to her feet as you picked up the bottle Giuseppe had left, rubbing the cork before turning to look away from her, a loud pop reverberating along with the record player that was still working, foam and the sparkling liquid pouring out onto the floor due to the pressure of the gas. Avis had both glasses in her hand waiting for you to pour the drinks, watching the foam fill it up and spill slightly, handing you your glass once you had returned the bottle back to the table. Crystals clinked, bringing it up to taste the delicious liquid on your tongue, bubbling up your nose and down your throat. Now was the moment. Once Avis had swallowed her sip you grabbed her by the neck and pulled her down for another kiss, a surprised yelp that soon turned into a quiet moan muffled by your lips as you pushed your tongue inside her mouth without a fight. She was utterly delicious after drinking champagne. The spell was broken by the sound of fireworks, a gleeful look on Avis’s face as she broke the kiss, pulling you out of the room and into the street, the glasses still in your hands. It was beautiful. The night sky was filled with colourful forms and sparkly rainbows, flying over everyone’s heads every second. Both your gazes were glued to the firmament up above, but that did not stop you from taking her hand in yours, fingers interviewed as the sky filled up with golden glows. Nothing had ever been more perfect, nothing would ever be more special, her eyes travelling down to yours watching in the reflection the blue glittery traces that crossed the sky. She had waited enough, and dessert was due. She moved her head to the crook of your neck, her lungs filling up with the gentle traces of your floral perfume, whispering in your ear for only you to hear.

-Take me home and make me feel like a thousand stars. Fill my life with fireworks Y/N.

Her tone sounded almost as if she was pleading, a pang of sadness stabbing your heart, watching how her eyes were filled with both an imperious need for you and a softness that spoke to you in so many levels. Walking backwards into the restaurant, the sky still painted by the colourful display, you did not have to use any kind of force to guide her back to the private booth, the restaurant empty as everyone was out on the street. The record had ended by then, the only sound inside the room being the needle as it scratched over the vinyl, but that was superfluous to you, every ounce of your attention was on Avis. She took on last sip of her champagne, leaving it on the table next to yours, her stole draped over her shoulder and her purse in her empty hand. Your eyes were locked never wanting to break contact, never wanting to stray. You wished to lift her in your arms and leave everything behind, take her to the ends of the world and love her for all eternity, but life was nothing like one’s dreams and yet this moment felt just like one. You pulled out a fifty and left it on the table, thinking that you would not get to see Giuseppe or any of the others before leaving, but just as you were crossing the main dining room Teresa called your name. You turned, but the woman did not ask you to join them for drinks or to wait a bit longer before leaving, she simply approached you, kissed you on the cheek and wished you and Avis a happy New Year, handing the older woman a brown package. There was something in the way Teresa was looking at the two of you that made you think that perhaps it wasn’t so bad to take that leap of faith you had been so scared of, that it was worth taking this risk, to fall in love at last.

You promised to visit soon, telling her that the dinner was marvellous, like always and that it was paid before blowing her a kiss as you still pulled Avis out the door. Getting to the car was no effort, it was as if fate was guiding your every action and aiding you in reaching the final goal, slipping into the drivers sit. People were all around you, but you needed her to know that her every wish was your command and so you twisted your body to meet her lips, a hand resting on her cheek. She melted under your touch, under your kiss, feeling every emotion that you had promised to tell her passing from your lips to hers. She felt renewed with energy, love and lust and everything in between bursting from every pore of her body, not wanting to separate from you, but it had to happen, your body returning to its original position before you turned the engine on. You had considered for an instant taking her to your place, but you had left things everywhere and you did not want to have to tidy up before taking her to your bed, not unless you wanted her to grow cold on you, so you swerved into a side street and drove back to her place. She was confused at first, but upon seeing the determination that had glazed over your eyes, she sat back and relaxed letting you do what you had to do. The gates were closed but not locked, upon Avis’s order, but with a gentle jab from the hood of your car they shrieked and opened, not a soul in sight as you parked right next to Avis’s black Cadillac.

It felt quite familiar to step out of the car and meet over the stone path that led to her front door, but everything about this time was different. There was no hurry, no element of surprise that could interrupt and end it all, it was just you and Avis under the front porch, her hand in yours. The cold air of the night was raising goosebumps on your skin, a shiver shaking your frame, but you did not falter in your stand, taking her hand and placing it on your cheek, kissing her palm. Had this been twenty years ago Avis would have stood under the tiny porch light kissing you before you had to turn and leave her behind, thinking about how she would have had to go to bed alone in that big empty dark house, but it wasn’t the 20s and it wasn’t a random scenario in her head. She could kiss you still under the tiny porch light, gentle nibbles and pecks making her melt against your body, her hands snaking round your neck to keep you in place. She could moan in your mouth as your hands travelled from the shape of her waist down to her hips and then her firm ass to pull her closer to you. And after the kisses ended and you were left standing there panting and incensed, you wouldn’t have to go away, she opened those big doors and pulled you inside. The house was warm and quiet and so very dark, only a few rays on moonlight breaking through closed curtains. Avis knew her home like the back of her hand and she guided you slowly to the staircase, walking upstairs with her hand in yours.

She stopped in the middle of it though when she felt your hands around her waist. She trusted you to not let her fall as she let her weight press against your chest, your head in the crook of her neck. She smelled delicious and you could not help it, you run your tongue the length of her neck up until you meet her ear, kissing the spot behind, your teeth gracing her earlobe. With one hand on the railing for support the other went to the back of your head feeling the curls and pins under her palm, a quiet moan echoing in the dark room as you pulled gently on her ear. She tasted divine, that saltiness that was so her mixing with the champagne from your drink. Her eyes were closed taking in every sensation that you were giving her as your hands teased her breasts through the silk, finger on the hem of the neckline. The way every single peck and caress set her alight was beyond her comprehension, her heartbeats a little bit elevated against her ribcage, her knickers getting wetter by the minute, but there was no rush, she could take far more than what you were giving her; she wanted to burn in your arms. She moved her head to the side, scratching her nails on your scalp, to grant you a better access, a gasp falling from her lips when she felt you tongue licking down her neck and the junction with the shoulder, following the same path back up until your lips curled and sucked on her pulse point.

Her hips buckled to meet yours, her round firm ass pressed against your pelvis, earning a grunt that became muffled by her skin. As much as you were both loving this there was a growing need to reach the bedroom, so much to your dismay Avis pulled herself from your grip, not before turning and taking both your hands. Walking backwards was hard but walking up the stairs all while in the dark was ever more difficult and yet Avis pulled it off beautifully, reaching the landing without tripping not even once. Her eyes had never left yours even if among the shadows there was very little chance of her seeing just how dilated your pupils were, how they were burning with a fire that only she could put out.  The door to her bedroom was just there, not more than three feet from you, but it felt as if you had gone without feeling her for far too long and so you pressed her against the wall, claiming her lips in a bruising kiss. You sucked on her lower lip never growing tired of hearing the way her throat vibrated and her body shook ever so slightly as moans travelled through her open mouth for to swallow, chest pressed against chest, your right hand grabbing and pulling her leg upwards, free from her gown. The lacy hem of her stockings was an obstacle for you, that delectable skin of hers hidden underneath but that did not stop you from fingering the clip that kept it in place before grabbing the back of her thigh to grind against her pelvis. Her response was a curse, the fabric of her knickers drenched in between her legs, but you did not let up, watching as her head lulled back against the wall, her entire frame bobbing up and down as you moved.

She wanted you, needed you to fill her up, to touch her and eat her and love her and make her scream so loud she wouldn’t be able to speak for three days, but the movements that you were doing were just not fully cutting it for her, as sublime as they were. This time though she did not have to push you away, you lifted her off the floor, her legs wrapping around your waist as her arms did the same around your neck, giving a surprised yelp. She had not considered that you could be so strong, carrying her through the threshold of her bedroom, your foot closing the door, her lips pecking every inch of skin she could find around your face, avoiding your lips should she make you lose your grip on her. Your brain was telling you to throw her on the bed and take her, no time to remove clothes, but you let your heart guide you on this, gently placing her over the covers, pecking her lips before stepping back. All the air in your lung vanished as you took in the scene before you. The curtains weren’t drawn letting the silvery beams of moonlight bathe the woman before you with its pearly glows, her olive kissed skin seeming like porcelain under its touch, every freckle, wrinkle and beauty mark glowing like beacons that were calling you home. Her dark fiery locks were untamed, dishevelled from where you had threaded your fingers, framing her as they cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, her lips swollen and so very enticing even without her signature lipstick. That glamorous gown she was wearing had moved slightly around her body, glowing like pure platinum as the top of a black corselette peeked from under the neckline, her breasts practically spilling, bouncing with her rapid breaths. Her body, propped up on her elbows, was spread before you since the skirt of her dress had fallen to the sides, leaving her legs right there for you to feast on and oh Lord, were you going to. But there was another idea in your head that you wanted to do for her before you could satisfy your own needs.

In a slow twirl your back was presented to her, a hand grabbing onto the zipper of your dress, painstakingly pulling it down to let your underwear begin to seep through the garment. You could hear Avis’s breaths picking up at the way you swayed your hips to shimmy out of it, feeling the velvet brush your legs as it flowed to the floor. With graceful movements you stepped out of it, bending so that your ass was in perfect view for Avis, turning your head to look at her while picking up the dress from the floor. She groaned at the sight of your body, her mind racing as her mouth turned dry before it began to water, hypnotised by every little movement you made, from bending to standing back up after leaving your dress over the chair of her vanity. Her heart began to race with each step you took towards her, spreading her legs even further to accommodate you, your body bending over hers, face inches from hers. She rose to kiss you, but you were quick and pulled back, a naughty smirk on your lips when your fingers began to trace her jawline, neck, chest and swells of her breasts, your mouth following the same path though your fingers could not help exploring the skin underneath her corselette. She was plump and soft, and you had buried your head in between her tits many times before but could not get enough of them, feeling her stiff peak with your fingertips. Her noises were positively sublime, deep and rambling in her chest before they made their way out of her mouth in quiet gasps. You moved close to her ear, whispering huskily.

-I believe, my dear lady, that you are overdressed.

The fabric was so smooth under your palms, so undoing the knot on the side as well as the button next to her breasts was like slicing butter, pushing the gown open to free her gorgeous body. And God, what a body it was. It was maddening to have her like this right under your lips, tracing every wrinkle and crease her skin made, and you just simply could not get enough. The fireworks of Sunset Boulevard had ended some time ago, but now there was the booming sound again, in the background, lighting up the room with a soft golden glow. It did not stop you from sucking on her now exposed collarbone, scraping the skin hard, a hissing sound reaching your ears, but Avis prevented you from lifting your head by pressing a hand on your neck, her body falling onto the soft covers. A gentle lick of your tongue soothed the sting, sloppy kisses travelling down to her breasts but there wasn’t enough flesh before your eyes, fingers working on the first hook of the corselette. Her breasts bounced to free themselves and yet you did not continue, simply licked the valley in between them. How exquisite were her moans, echoing off the walls with each suck, leaving bruising marks behind that you knew her husband might find out about, but that didn’t stop you, wouldn’t stop you. If he could not appreciate the woman he was married to, you would take on such a task. Perhaps the sight of the marks would help make Avis understand that she didn’t have to settle for less than what she thought she deserved, which was everything.

Her breaths were so rapid that upon arching her back at the hand of your ministrations another hook came undone without anyone touching the garment, her breasts spilling out of the black lace freeing her pinkish nipples that were hard as rocks already. Hmmmm, your favourite appetizer at last had arrived. Kissing the ample left breast, you trailed down towards the stiff pick, taking it hungrily in your mouth, lapping up and down, twirling it around and around and around, basking in the high-pitched moans that Avis made when you scrapped the tip with your teeth, hips bucking upwards into your own pelvis. It drew out a groan from you, her pubic bone having brushed expertly, but without her actually knowing, against your clit. She knew the effects she had on you, but she had not expected such a reaction from simply sucking her tits, a naughty smirk on her lips as her eyes ogled your mouth with her nipple deep inside it. There was a whine in the air when you popped it out of your mouth, but how could you not give her right breast the same treatment when it was looking at you so readily. Deliciously it fitted in your mouth as if it was meant to be there, sucking so hard you were making Avis scream in hurried pants, her nails digging onto your scalp.

One hand kept your weight off her body but that didn’t mean you could not do several other things with the other, your nails leaving red trails over her inner thigh, massaging the soft flesh to sooth it before repeating the motion. Her legs twitched, trying to close around your frame out of seer instinct, a whimper slipping from her parted lips. It was tempting to tease her until she could not take it anymore, but tonight the plan wasn’t to see up until where the boundaries would collapse, it was to love her and care for her. Your index finger brushed over the lace of her knickers, Avis’s lower lip in between her teeth, feeling not just how wet she was; her underwear was absolutely ruined and drenched and you only wished to take it off and have your main course. It was a herculean effort to pull back, her nipple being released from your mouth in a quiet pop, but she was still quite overdressed in your most humble opinion. On your knees now, you took off her shoes, putting them on the side, massaging the tension on her arches and her ankles, settling on her left leg while carrying on with her calf, the back of her knee and then her thigh. Expert finger undid the clip pushing it out of the way, the silk stocking coming off her leg with your teeth, Avis’s eyes simply blown wide at the sight, the exact same actions taking place on her right leg instants after. Instead of climbing back on top of her though you placed her legs over your shoulders taking your sweet time to kiss trails from her ankles up to her inner thighs, back down and then back up again. She was going to go insane, of that she was certain, every single one of your kisses leaving fire on her skin, but she just could not stop you, she needed every ounce of attention you were giving her, your fingers digging over her thighs as you inched closer and closer to her centre. Just when your kisses had reached the side of her knickers did you move to her other side, sucking and biting hard, drawing out moans and whimpers all while Avis still laid on her back, her hands holding onto the bed covers. Without warning and without care you gave her one strong long lick over the lace, her salty juices on your tongue making you groan against her.

-Fuck!

Her hips buckled against your face trying desperately to get more friction, anything. You knew she needed you, but you were not going to take her like this, you wanted her to have the connection of skin to skin; raising from your knees you bent back over her body. Your hands finished unhooking the corselette, pulling it from under her and throwing it across the room. There were a few red marks left from the garment over her abdomen, and you were sure they probably bothered her, so after kissing her neck, sucking hard on her pulse point, you went all the way down to her sternum and even further, licking each red line making sure to peck the skin once you were contented with the way your saliva glistened under the moonlight, your fingers following the paths of her stretch marks with such a gentle touch you were raising goosebumps over her skin. They trailed down until your fingertips came in contact with the waistband of her knickers, removing them inch by inch all the way down her legs until she was utterly naked before you. The platinum beams that burst through the windows wrapped around her body, enticing, the fire that was burning within you mixing with the absolute adoration you felt for Avis. Her breasts were perky, rising and falling rapidly, her eyes staring hungrily at you. It just wasn’t fair, she thought, she was like a renaissance painting, naked before you with her hair down, dripping for you, and yet you were just standing there, hidden from her eyes. She had to do something about it.

With cat like grace Avis pulled herself off the bed, walking barefoot until she was right in front of you. Her hands ached to be rough, to play with you until you broke in between her fingers and then put you back together, but your eyes were looking at her with such a caring loving glow that she could not bring herself to do it. She put her hands on your shoulder and turned you until your back was pressed against her front, both your figures reflected on a tall mirror that you had not noticed before. Had she got it so she could dress herself for you? She did not give you time to think, her fingers trailing down from your shoulders over to your breasts, squeezing and kneading the flesh under your own corselette. She was delighted that you had dressed like that, not that seeing you in those see-through brassieres was something she would ever complain about, but there was just something so utterly erotic about this outfit that drove her wild. One hook came off, your breasts one step closer to freedom, her lips kissing softly the skin of your shoulder, one hand travelling underneath the black lace that cupped your breasts, the other one pulling on your hair until she had the access to you neck she desired. Your sweet skin was delicious under her tongue, and the bruises that had painted your skin not that long ago were nowhere to be found, so in that spot she decided she had to make sure those marks that had painted your entire body returned. Her teeth bit down on your neck, a yelp mixing with a moan reverberating inside the room, her tongue southing the sting before moving a little bit further down to do the same. The hand that was under you corselette was kneading on your left breast, her thumb brushing on your perky nipple. She was a pro, you knew, so it wasn’t a surprise when she pulled her hand out and with only two fingers did she undo a second hook. The garment was becoming loser around your frame, slipping down a bit more until your breasts were free, Avis’s eyes eyeing them with such desire that your utterly flooding underwear welcomed a brand-new wave of arousal.

-My very good girl is the one overdressed now, don’t you think?

You nodded at her words, her index finger following the line of your cheek down to your neck until she was painting lazy patterns over your left breast, her tongue licking the shell of your ear, biting and pulling on your earlobe. Her thumb passed over your nipple, the hand on your hair letting go to play with your right breast, the motions so tempting, so sultry that made your hips press against her pelvis just like Avis had done with you on the staircase. She played and twirled your nipples in between her fingers, pinching hard, your hands grabbing her naked hips to steady your legs, your throat slightly raw from how she was making you moan. Soon she grew restless of her own actions, unclasping each hook slowly to let your creamy skin come to light until it laid open in her hands. She could not let her eyes stop looking at every single detail of your skin, her hot breath drawing goosebumps, your stiff nipples getting even harder. The corselette fell to the floor, the weight of it pulling your stocking down with it, leaving you with all the fabric bunched up around your ankles. You were going to bend to remove them when a hand right in between your breasts stopped you, pressed you naked back against her naked chest feeling every inch of her ample tits. It was Avis who kneeled this time, the hand that had stopped you before resting right above your knickers now, her legs slightly open, lifting your leg and removing your shoe, pushing it aside, pulling the nylon stocking off.

She was spread for you to see in the mirror, those pink folds glistening in the gentle light of the moon, your arousal through the roof wishing you were already in between her legs. She was not done though; she lifted your other leg removing the stiletto and pulling the stocking off. The offending bundle of garments was thrown across the room, forgotten already as her eyes went for the next step. Her fingers were running up and down your thighs at a teasing pace, kissing the back of your legs, moving over your hamstring until her lips made contact with the skin of your ass, biting down, sucking hard. A gasp left your lips, the feeling utterly salacious and carnal, her fingers kneading the flesh, treading underneath the fabric of your underwear. No one except Avis had ever played with your ass before, this was her thing the same way that playing with her tits was yours. They stopped their motion after a moment, following the shape of your hips until the met at your pubic bone, grabbing and yanking your knickers down your legs. They rested around your knees, her hands busy parting your legs so she could feel just how much you really wanted her, humming in approval when her fingers touched your folds, coating them with your juices. The underwear fell on its own, pooling at your feet as Avis rose to look at you through the mirror, eyes following her hand, watching her lick her fingers clean, groaning at your salty essence.

Turning around to face her you stopped her movement, pulling her hand out of her mouth and taking it inside yours instead. She had not cleaned herself completely yet, the state of her saliva and your arousal the perfect mix around her fingers, tongue twirling and sucking. Fuck being gentle, fuck waiting. You pulled her fingers out with a pop and yanked her arm towards you to capture her mouth once again, your hand on her bare ass cheek kneading and spanking the bouncy flesh, her leg wrapping around your thigh and calf. Kissing her was always an experience but doing it fully naked was just beyond arousing, your need to bite and lick and suck making you draw a little bit of blood from her lower lip, the metallic taste intoxicating, your hands grabbing her other ass fully and lifting her in the air, the bruising kiss never breaking, her hands on the back of your head pulling hairpins out and letting them fall on the floor. You would worry about picking them up in the morning.

You placed her back on the bed, crawling on top of the covers but she broke from your embrace to pull them off the mattress and onto the floor, leaving the Egyptian cotton bedsheets free for her to lay upon. Her hair was fanned out on her pillow as her eyes raked over your body, sitting on your knees, waiting, like the good girl you were. There was a painting that came to mind as you took her in, watching her move one hand to rest above her head, fingers brushing the headboard while the other motioned for you to crawl over to her, a beautiful masterpiece from the 1800s that had transcended time into the 1940s, and space, to lay on this bed. You could not recall where it was displayed, but at the end of the day it was just that, a work on a canvas that you could not touch. The woman before you was real though, solid and positively divine with the way each curve of her soft flesh seemed to have been carved by the hands of angels, her eyes the doors to the Heavens, her lips the gates to Hell. There was no corner of her body that you would not paint, no freckle that you would not kiss and if her body was a forest, you would gladly get lost in it for all eternity. Avis looked like a Venus, like a goddess that you would pray to every day and night and she deserved to be painted and displayed just as much as those priceless works of art, even if there was a part of you that only wanted to keep her to yourself, like a secret that no one could see except for you, every spot in her body only for you to kiss and taste, her sounds only for you to hear. You crawled on top of her, taking her hand to kiss her finger before placing it above her head next to the other, lowering your mouth to peck her gently. The road that your lips travelled was well known to you, every curve and hill memorised; her collarbone, the hollow of her neck, her maddening breasts that you could not help but kiss one more time, and in between every stretch mark in her abdomen and upper thighs.

Her legs parted, granting you access to that part of her body that you desired the most, bending until your chest was practically resting over the mattress, ass up in the air, kissing and licking the soft skin of her inner thighs. There were still a few remnants of the bruises you had inflicted upon her that first night, but there was still plenty of untouched flesh for you to paint. She moaned when she felt you suck, knowing that in the morning her body could be covered in hickeys, not that she cared, not anymore, her back arching off the bed a little, hips moving almost as if they were trying to tempt you. She needed to be patient, just for a bit longer you thought, still giving your full attention to the bruise that was already forming, licking to sooth it before turning to her other thigh, sucking and biting, a hiss mixing with her loud moans. She was always so very vocal, which you adored, and when you came face to face with her dripping folds you couldn’t help but smile. Dinner was served. You preferred something sweet as dessert, but the saltiness of Avis’s juices was the perfect cherry on top of a wonderful night, your tongue lapping the whole length of her cunt with one long swipe. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head at the feeling of your mouth on her, hips moving against your face.

-God, fuck, Y/N.

The moans that were breaking from her parted lips filled your head, loud and sensual, because how could Avis make any sound that wasn’t absolutely indecent and salacious, your own juices coating the top of your inner thighs. Your nose brushed gently against her clit, a hand shooting to keep you in place as a scream slid out her throat, her nails digging into your scalp, but your movement never stopped, her pleasure building higher and higher. She had had your tongue on her before, and had adored every second of it, but the things you were doing to her this time, the soft licks, nudging her swollen bud prolonging it all, driving her insane with such a caring touch, oh God, it was something else. Every touch sent her a message that she mattered to you, that her pleasure was your main goal, to see her unravelling before your eyes, to drink in her relaxed and satisfied body as if she could be the last thing your eyes ever saw. It made the way your tongue moved a thousand times more powerful, the coil in her lower abdomen burning bright, threatening to set her on fire. With one hand you opened up her folds to grant your tongue access to her entrance, darting in and out slowly at first. The grip on your hair never lessened and the way her hips were moving told you that she needed more, so you gave it to her without a second thought taking her clit in your mouth, sucking so hard that her back arched off the bed, the hand that had been resting and toying with the fabric of her pillowcase, holding hard onto the headboard.

You had never wished you had been born with a cock before, but the sight of her as you gave her one long lick before sitting back on your knees, her dark eyes watching you confused wondering why you had stopped, made you long for one to pound deep into her, to fill her up and feel every inch of her insides around you, warm and velvety. The best you could do was to move your fingers up and down, her head falling back over her pillow, coating them in her juices before plunging them in. She screamed at the feeling of her cunt stretching to accommodate you as you travelled in kisses back up her body, taking her nipples in your mouth. They were your weakness, an imperious need to always play with them forcing you to twirl them and suck hard. Slowly you pulled your hand back giving her a moment before pushing back in, hard, curling to touch that sweet spot with your fingertips, another scream escaping her open mouth, your lips kissing the skin under her ribcage. The taste of her skin along with that of her juices was intoxicating, driving you to move your hand faster and harder against her as your mouth trailed and bit at her collarbones and her neck finally reaching her lips, drawing her into a deep kiss that made Avis’s already fuzzy head grow dizzy. There were so many sensations that she just couldn’t focus, both her legs bending over your hips, the heels of her feet digging onto your lower back. In this new position you could push your hand harder into her by using the power of your pelvis, thrusting once to see if it was any good.

-FUCK! YES! YES!

If it had been Summer the entire neighbourhood would have been able to hear her screams, but with the windows closed her words and sounds were for your ears only. Your hips thrust against your hand once more, her hips moving downwards to meet you, her head thrown back against the pillow as a thin layer of sweat begun to cover her body, your greedy tongue licking if off the side of her neck before biting and sucking hard, leaving a most wonderous hickey right where everyone would be able to see, but Avis was too lost to notice. With each movement of your hips her body bobbed up and down on the mattress, her gorgeous and ample tits swaying with the sinful motions, her moans higher and higher in pitch as she felt her orgasm building, nearly reaching the delicious peak she desired. There was no warning, just you adding another finger, practically slamming your hips against her pelvis, the rhythm you had previously had a bit more erratic, losing yourself in the way she was screaming in your ear, clenching around your fingers so hard, her skin so delicious in your mouth. Your hand would be useless for a day or two with the way you were pushing it knuckle deep inside her, slamming it against her pubic bone, but it was a prize you were willing to pay. With your thumb you circled her clit, playing a game of pressure that could send her over the edge any minute and yet it seemed as if there was something preventing her from doing so. Your mouth kissed behind her ear, licking its shell before you whispered.

-Come for me Avis, see the stars that you begged me to show you.

A shiver run all over her body, like a wave, before the coil in her lower abdomen exploded, an intense white fire spreading through every limb, her back arching of the bed as your name left her lips in a loud scream, her legs trembling and shaking all while the grip on your hair pulled painfully and the heels of her feet dug against your lower back. But there was no real pain, nothing truly hurt, her pleasure the only thing that mattered to you as her hips slammed onto yours, your hand in between them, as she rode out her orgasm. Her vision was blurred, white stars dancing through them, her eyes rolling back with each wave and twitch that coursed through her spasming walls.

-Y/N! YES! YES! YES! GOD, I LOVE YOU!  

Every cell in your body froze for an instant, her body collapsing on the mattress her chest rising and falling in hurried loud pants, arms like jelly as they let go of your hair and the headboard, her legs unwrapping from around your back, though you did not move, hands caressing the skin of her thighs to bring her gently down. Part of you wanted those words to be real, to believe her even if she had spoken them in the throws of passion, but the other half believed they were just that, words, no real meaning behind them, a turmoil of confused thoughts rushing through your mind. Until her eyes opened behind heavy lids and everything turned quiet. Her eyes were so very deep and beautiful, expressing everything so clearly that to you there was no doubt that she had meant it. Her shaky hand caressed your cheek, your body having not moved from being on top of hers, that bright smile shinning all over the room but right now only for your eyes to see. In that sweet afterglow that always left her so very relaxed, so raw with her emotions and realizations, did she allow herself to acknowledge what she felt because this had been the last step she had needed to see that what you two had went beyond mere care and lust. Her heart had been alone in a dark room for years but then you came, with an entire array of Christmas lights and chandeliers and filled it all with light, your heart sitting beside hers, never letting it go from your embrace. This is what love was supposed to feel like, and she would never ever let it slip through her fingers. She brought you down for a kiss, a gentle pressing of lips, and even if it was the simplest one you two had shared, it was the best of them. Upon parting you laid beside her, your head sharing her big pillow.

-Avis.

-Don’t overthink it Y/N. I said what I said, and you know me; I don’t take words back.

-But there’s so much you don’t know about me.

-I don’t care. – in between her thumb and index finger she twirled and played with a lock of your hair, her gaze never parting from yours. They were filled with love, shinning like never before, making you lose yourself in their depth, her warmth wrapping around you like a blanket. It made your chest burst with happiness. -You could be a Russian spy, and I would still love you. You make me feel like a human being and trust me, that’s fucking fantastic; you give my life a purpose, a brand-new perspective. Life is so full of possibilities now that you are here, with me, so many adventures that had never crossed my mind before. All the money, jewels and mink coats that I own could never compare to you making me feel like I’m someone, like I matter.

-It’s so easy to be around you, to care.

-Even though I’m a very faulted woman?

-Everyone is, you just know how to cope with it. You are temperamental but also passionate, you don’t apologise but you make it up to people, you have sat in the back letting others take your spotlight, and it doesn’t seem fair, Avis. I want to give you that, I want you to be up on stage and reclaim it; let everyone adore you. The world is yours and you must walk like you own it.

-I could have sworn I already did that. – her lips pecked your cheeks and jaw bit never pushed further than that, she knew you both needed to talk this out. You felt her teasing smile against your skin.

-Indeed, but what I mean is that you must stop letting Ace treat you like this. Break free from him and his lies and be yourself and if he doesn’t like it, he can go and fuck himself. You have a beautiful soul; you can’t let him crush it and turn you into a bitter woman.      

-I wanted him to love me, to care for Claire, but its as if I’m just an addition to his life, like an object. We’ve been through this shit so many times, but he never changes. – the hurt run deep, her eyes glancing down to your necklace that she had not removed, toying with the metal chain to keep her eyes from locking with yours. That man had broken her so much and so many times, and you could see why she would practically throw herself at the first person that showed her a bit of love and affection. She was emotionally starved. - I had spent so long wanting to be his wife so when I realised that I wasn’t wanted and that I never will be, my eyes finally opened, and I saw the truth. I had confused my wishes, my dreams, for the real thing and seeing that… - she had to stop for a moment, tears threatening to fall, her words choking her up with the overwhelming feelings of shame and sadness. You hated seeing her like this, hiding herself and her pain from you, so your finger moved under her chin forcing her to look up, watching as those crystal drops ran down her cheeks and towards the tip of her nose. Her voice wavered but she still carried on needing to let it all out. - that I had been tricked by life, well, it hurt. It took time to see that this marriage was never going to work, we don’t care enough about each other to bother fixing it. Should you fix something that has been broken since day one?

-No, you shouldn’t. You must let it wither and die, Avis, as much as it may hurt at first. You don’t need him. I will be your husband, your wife, your partner, your friend, your therapist and your doctor. I will hold you and wipe your tears, - your thumbs slid over her cheeks capturing the drops, kissing the soft, warm flesh and removing the saltiness off her nose. The grip she had on your forearms now was bruising, like she was grounding herself on your skin. - laugh at your jokes and tell you everyday of my life that there is not a soul in this world, in this universe, that… I love more than yours.

-You… love me? – her voice held a note of doubt, as if she had heard those words before dressed in deceit, but there was such a deep hope in those glistening eyes that elated you, your face inches from hers, foreheads touching.

-Since the very first time I saw you. All that we’ve shared has only made my feelings stronger, and I’m sure of them. Learning about you, finding out all the little things that no one has bothered to listen to, like you not liking mustard, or that you love going on walks down at the beach when the sun has already set, when the night hides you from prying eyes and you can let your mask fall, simply brings me joy. You are such a wonderful woman, and you have lived things that I could have never even imagined, and I want to know it all. Every single second of your life.

-Please Y/N, tell me what you promised me. What’s the meaning?

-That’s simple. You. – her breath hitched in her lungs, the biggest most sincere smile painting her lips as a brand-new batch of tears fell down her cheeks. This time you let them fall as they held a completely different air around them, a voice in the back of your mind telling you that you had to let Avis guide you on this. With your left hand you pushed her hair back, caressing her cheek with your fingers while rubbing gently on her jaw with your thumb. -People have come and gone in my life and I have learnt good and bad things from them, but they all shared the same trait. They took and took and took so when I was ready to receive, they would go. You take Avis, but you also give so much in return. I have never met anyone who could care this much, who could give like this. It doesn’t matter if it’s a car, or flowers, the things that mean the most to me are the ones that no one would consider, like a bag of food with a note reminding me to eat or you taking the time to talk with Giuseppe and his family. You listen when I speak and remember the tiny little details that no one had bothered with before, like your new shampoo that smells like home. That’s the meaning of happy, simply you.

You tasted the salt of her tears as she pressed her lips to yours, her body pushing you to your back over the cotton bedsheets. With Avis now on top you could stare unabashedly up at her wonderous body, and yet your eyes could only look at hers, pupils blow wide again, lust overtaking all the sadness she had felt, but never the love and joy you had caused to bloom in her chest. The conversation was over, the time for words had passed, but she still bent until her mouth was resting over yours, brushing, tempting, whispering one final question.

-What do you want Y/N?

-Make love to me, Avis.

She could most certainly fulfil such a lovely request, her lips pressing, lingering over yours, the kiss deepening after a few moments of her simply pecking, her legs straddling you with your hands on her hips painting lazy patterns. Biting down on your lower lip she was granted access, her tongue tracing your teeth, sucking and pulling, battling your tongue, earning a groan of pleasure from deep within your throat. Her kisses went down your chin towards your neck. She already knew all the sweet spots that drove you crazy, licking, gracing the soft skin with her teeth until she left you trembling and whimpering, moving on to your pulse point. She was a pro, sucking down hard until there was a bruise identical to the one you had given her, her tongue lapping over the mark to soothe it, although there was a throb in between your legs that she could not soothe, not yet. What a wonderful journey she was taking down your body, her sloppy kisses now in the valley of your breasts, her hands kneading at the plump flesh. You gasped at the feeling, your hips buckling lightly under the weight of her pelvis, Avis groaning when you touched her still sensitive cunt, wet once more. The way her hands played and teased your breasts was maddening, thumbs brushing your stiff nipples, her mouth playing with the sensitive skin around them before finally popping one of them in her mouth. The sigh that you gave quickly turned into moans as she twirled it and sucked, screaming in surprise when she bit down, your back arching, hands holding onto her hips harder all while pressing her down onto you, aching.

Her attention moved to your other nipple, brushing it with her thumb before taking it in her mouth, twirling and biting. The way she took you and played with you was just divine, her fiery lock brushing and tickling, enhancing the thousand emotions and sensations that were overtaking your body, but she still did not stop, although her mouth was now kissing down your abdomen, licking every little stretch mark that you possessed. When she had first seen her own, years ago, she had thought no one would ever want to see her naked ever again, but your body was beautiful, a work of art, and it was also painted with them, and you never recoiled from hers, only made her feel good about them. How could she ever think that they were not sexy when you had them, and she was crazy about you? Her body had moved lower on the bed, your legs spreading to let her sit in between them, her hands rubbing circles on your hip bone as her kisses trailed lower and lower until your pubic bone was under her lips. You were not one to push or beg, you had a certain level of patience, one of the traits she loved most about you as she was an explosive force of nature, so she knew you were enjoying it how much she was making you wait even if she could feel how hot your skin was under her palms.

Her fingers played and walked all the way from your upper thigh to the ankle of your left leg, her hand wrapping around it and lifting, her lips kissing the arch of your foot, pecking the skin of your calf and sucking behind your knee, placing your leg over her shoulder. Her hot breath ghosted over your inner thigh raising goosebumps, making you whimper and close your eyes when her teeth nibbled and kissed up until the joint in between your cunt and leg, your breath hitched in your lungs. She gave you a gentle kiss over your dripping folds, a reward of sorts or perhaps a gentle torture, you were unsure, before moving to your right leg, placing it over her shoulder once she had kissed behind your knee. It was a wonderful contrast how she could taste your sweet skin and the salty tears she had just cried, the happiest tears she had ever shed in her life. She would happily stay like this forever with you in her bed, being loved, receiving every ounce of what she could give, just like she wanted, like you needed. Her kisses on your inner thigh were sweet and gentle, a far cry from the roughness she had showed you that first night, her lips inches from your centre, her breathing tickling you, cooling the juices that were coating your folds. The anticipation was staggering, your breath shaky, your hands holding onto the bedsheets on either side of you for dear life until finally her mouth made contact, and your eyes rolled back.

Her tongue was magical, moving up and down slowly, tasting, drinking in the sweetness of you while her hands pressed against your hips gently to keep you in place. The moans that were filling up the room were loud, great indication for Avis that she was doing perfectly in between your legs, taking one of your folds and sucking hard. Stars were not that far from your vision if she carried on like that, her movements faster now, her fingers accompanying her mouth as she opened you up to her, pushing one finger inside you as her lips wrapped around your clit, twirling it, sending jolts of pleasure all throughout your body. You really did not know how much you could take; you were so worked up that anything she did made your head roll back and your body arch and buckle against her face, but she still pushed your limits a little by adding a second finger, pumping in and out as fast as she could, curling her fingers. When your walls began to clench hard around her, your moans turning to incoherent screams muffled by the pillow as you thrashed your head from side to side, her licks became more applied, harder and more focused around your swollen bud, adding a third finger that stretched you up so divinely that upon feeling her thrust deep inside you hitting that spot, her lips sucking, teeth scraping you became quiet.

Everything was numb and then explosive, white fire and electricity through every limb, hips buckling erratically against Avis’s face. Your body was shaking and trembling, screaming her name until your throat became raw, nearly suffocating her as your thighs closed up around her. You rode your orgasm hard, so hard that Avis nearly had the temptation of carrying on until you were coming around her fingers a second time but decided against it, after all, the night was young. There was plenty of time for her to take you again and again until you became one with her. Your juices coated her face and hand as her pace slowed, her tongue taking it all while being careful not to touch your overstimulated clit. After a few moments you collapsed underneath her, legs releasing her and allowing her to take a deep breath, but she was not mad, she kissed your knees, her hands rubbing soothing circles on the skin of your hip bone as you came down. She wanted to check that you were okay, crawling up your body, your breasts bouncing as your body panted trying to return to a semblance of normality, her lips pecking the line of your jaw and cheeks. Still with your eyes closed you smiled and although you could not see her you were sure she was smiling as well. You hadn’t realised you were still grabbing the bedsheets, releasing them, your hands slightly numb from the strength with which you had been holding onto them, but you still brought them to the back of her neck, lazily playing with her hair.

-You are going to be hoarse tomorrow, darling.

-Hmmmm, words are overrated.

-Not after what you just told me. I think those ones are the most precious ones I will ever hear. – the way her voice laced with care and honesty made you open your eyes, her face a foot above yours, her hair framing her face just beautifully, waves tussled and dishevelled and sightly matted. – I could spend all night hearing you talk about all the things that you love about me, but I would love it even more if I could hear everything about you.

-I would like that. Over dessert?

-I thought I was your dessert. Was I not sweet enough on your tongue?

-Oh, Avis, you were delicious. – you both chuckled quietly before meeting your lips for a gentle loving kiss, her arms snaking around your neck as she dropped on her side moving you so you were still face to face. – But Teresa did give you a package

-Shit, I left in the car! I had other things in my mind.

She pecked your lips before stepping off the bed. God, she was gorgeous. Every curve was just utter temptation under the moonlight, but much to your dismay she covered them with a pink feathered robe, making her way to the door and telling you that she would be back in a minute, leaving it ajar. Your body was still tingling, and you basked in the wonderful feeling for a bit before sitting in bed observing how her dress was bunched up on the floor in between the covers, her underwear everywhere while yours rested a few feet from the full-size mirror. One of these days you would take her while standing in front of it, watch her face contort in pleasure, meeting her eyes through the reflection. You were shaken from your thoughts when Avis returned with the brown package in her hands, closing the door and climbing back on top of the mattress. Her hands were busy undoing the string, yours undoing the knot of her robe, she was far too overdress for all the things you had planned for her, placing tender kisses on her neck and shoulders as you slipped the garment off her body and onto the floor. Avis had stilled her movements, her fingers resting over the cardboard until she felt your hands wrap around her waist, pressing her back against you, finally letting her pull the top open.

-Oh, tiramisu!

-Just like Teresa to give you her favourite dessert. Uh, she likes you, she’s even given us cutlery. – your hand picked up the metal spoon, slicing through the mascarpone and biscuits before lifting it to Avis’s face. – Here, taste the most delicious thing in the planet. - She took it greedily, wrapping her lips around the scoop, lulling her head back slightly, her ear resting against your cheek, moaning loudly as she chewed.

-My God, this is marvellous. I’m going to have to hire her to cater future parties.

-Oh yeah? Am I going to have to worry about you trying to seduce her?

-It would only be for the food dear, only for the food. I would never change you for anyone, and I’ve seen gorgeous actress and actors. None of them hold a candle to you.

-Good, because I would be very upset since… - you pushed her face to the side with your fingers on her chin to meet your eyes, your lips hovering over hers. – I very much love you.

-What? I’m afraid I’m a bit hard of hearing, could you repeat it?

-I… love… you – each word was emphasized by a kiss, the remnants of coffee and mascarpone mixing with her own essence deliciously.

-Again.

-I love you.

-Again.

-Avis, I love you.

Her body turned completely, chest pressed against chest, slipping easily in your arms to kiss you properly, the dessert forgotten at the foot of the bed as she pushed you back over the mattress.

[onehundredelevven]

You received a Christmas Fic I !

Pre-Christmas with Sukuna.

word count: 1,010

cw: Just Sukuna being Sukuna, cringe ig, but sweet and fun nonetheless

note: this is kinda rushed, but I hope y'all like it !

December was in full swing, and your apartment was a whirlwind of holiday chaos. Boxes of decorations were scattered across the floor, half-empty rolls of wrapping paper had taken over the couch, and you were wearing an oversized sweater with a cartoonish reindeer on the front.

Sukuna, meanwhile, sat at the dining table, looking like he wanted to murder the nearest inflatable snowman.

“What exactly are you doing?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as you balanced precariously on a stool to hang a string of lights.

“What does it look like?” you replied, sticking your tongue out in concentration as you secured the lights. “I’m spreading holiday cheer, duh.”

“You mean you’re spreading a disaster,” he muttered, taking a sip from his coffee.

You turned to glare at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Grinch. Didn’t realize you were allergic to fun.”

“I’m not allergic to fun,” he said, leaning back in his chair with that trademark smirk. “I just don’t see the point of all this… nonsense.” He gestured vaguely at the mess you’d made of the apartment.

“Nonsense?” You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest like he’d just insulted your entire family lineage. “How dare you disrespect the sacred art of Christmas decorating!”

“It’s not sacred. It’s tacky,” he shot back, though his eyes lingered on the string of multicolored lights you’d managed to drape across the room.

“Oh, come on, Sukuna,” you said, hopping off the stool and plopping down beside him. “Don’t you feel the Christmas spirit? The magic? The joy?”

“I feel like I’m stuck in a Hallmark movie,” he deadpanned.

You gasped again. “You take that back!”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your theatrics. “What are you going to do? Throw tinsel at me?”

“Don’t tempt me,” you muttered, grabbing a nearby strand of tinsel threateningly.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth—almost like he was trying not to smile.

☆☆☆

It didn’t take long for your chaotic energy to rope him into the madness.

“Here, hold this,” you said, shoving a box of ornaments into his arms.

“No,” he said flatly, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

“Yes,” you insisted, grabbing his wrist and dragging him over to the tree. “You’re helping whether you like it or not.”

“Why would I waste my time hanging plastic baubles on a dying plant?”

“Because you love me,” you said sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him.

He snorted. “Debatable.”

“Wow.” You pouted, crossing your arms. “Fine. Be a Grinch. I’ll just do it all myself.”

You turned away dramatically, but before you could pick up an ornament, Sukuna grabbed your wrist.

“Give me that,” he said gruffly, taking the ornament from your hand.

You grinned triumphantly as he begrudgingly hung it on the tree.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” you said, nudging him with your elbow.

“Don’t push it,” he warned, though he didn’t pull away when you leaned against him.

☆☆☆

By the time you finished decorating, the living room looked like Christmas had exploded. The tree was covered in lights, ornaments, and a questionable amount of fake snow. You’d even managed to hang a wreath on the front door, though Sukuna had grumbled the entire time about how “pointless” it was.

“You know,” you said, collapsing onto the couch with a satisfied sigh, “I think this might be my best work yet.”

Sukuna stood with his arms crossed, surveying the room like a disgruntled art critic.

“It’s… less terrible than I expected,” he admitted reluctantly.

You gasped. “Was that a compliment? From the great Ryomen Sukuna himself?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, sitting down beside you.

☆☆☆

The evening took a quieter turn as you both settled in with mugs of hot chocolate (well, you had hot chocolate; Sukuna had spiked his with something stronger). The lights on the tree cast a warm glow over the room, and for once, Sukuna wasn’t scowling.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” you asked, nudging him with your shoulder.

“It’s tolerable,” he said, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

���You’re such a softie,” you teased, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Watch it,” he warned, though he didn’t push you away.

For a moment, the chaos of the day melted away, leaving only the quiet hum of holiday music and the gentle crackle of a candle burning on the coffee table.

“Hey,” you said suddenly, sitting up and looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“What now?” he asked, already bracing himself for whatever ridiculous idea you’d come up with next.

You held up a sprig of mistletoe, grinning like a child who’d just pulled off a prank.

“Really?” he said, giving you a flat look.

“It’s tradition,” you said innocently, holding the mistletoe above your heads.

Sukuna sighed, setting his mug down on the table. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered before leaning in to kiss you.

The kiss was slow and deliberate, a rare moment of tenderness from someone as rough around the edges as Sukuna. When he pulled away, his usual smirk was back in place.

“Merry pre-Christmas, brat,” he said, ruffling your hair.

“Merry pre-Christmas, Grinch,” you replied, snuggling back into his side.

And for once, Sukuna didn’t complain.

[margeoww]

Let me be honest here, ‘After All This Time’ should be a series or at least mini series and I’m ready to drop a kidney for it.

PLEASE MAKE IT A SERIES! 😭 Also, love your writing! 🫶🏽

After All This Time

back to my main masterlist.

toto wolff masterlist

Chapter 2

pairing: toto wolff x exwife!reader

summary: Toto reflects on the highs and lows of his 20-year marriage after seeing his ex-wife for the first time in four years. Memories of love, loss, and mistakes resurface, leaving him questioning if reconciliation is still possible.

warnings: themes of emotional conflict, mentions of divorce and strained relationships.

The echoes of their reunion at the gala lingered in Toto’s mind. Sleep had evaded him as the brief conversation played on repeat, unearthing emotions he thought were buried. Seated alone in his office, surrounded by the glow of the city lights, memories flooded back, raw and unrelenting.

The First Meeting

Their story began at a charity event in Vienna. Toto was a young, ambitious entrepreneur, accustomed to being the center of attention. She, on the other hand, was an anomaly in a room of predictable faces. Her laughter, genuine and unguarded, drew him in.

—Do you always observe people as if you’re calculating your next move in chess? —she asked, her smile disarming his ego. Toto was speechless, a rare occurrence.

—Only when someone interesting appears —he replied eventually, and that was the start of everything.

The Early Years

The early days were an adventure. She celebrated his ambition, becoming his anchor amidst the chaos. She was his biggest supporter and his sharpest critic, keeping him grounded while pushing him forward.

They spent evenings walking through Vienna, laughing as though they were the only ones in the world. Their life together was filled with simple yet unforgettable moments—cooking together, debating over who cut vegetables better, or mornings when Toto lingered in bed just to hear her hum while making coffee.

But success came at a price. Formula 1 consumed Toto, demanding every ounce of his time and energy. Promises of quality time were replaced by meetings, races, and endless travel.

—It’s not just that you work too much —she said one night after yet another canceled dinner. —It’s that I don’t know where I stand in your life anymore.

That conversation marked the beginning of the end.

The Anniversary That Changed Everything

The most painful memory was their 20th anniversary. Toto arranged an extravagant dinner, hoping to rekindle what had been lost. But the tension between them was undeniable.

—Do you really think a dinner can fix years of distance? —she asked, her voice heavy with sadness.

That night ended in silence, and Toto realized it wasn’t just about time or work. It was about connection—a connection that had slowly eroded despite the love that still existed.

The Divorce

The separation was agonizing but inevitable. Though neither said it aloud, they both knew the love remained. But sometimes, love alone isn’t enough.

Their last meeting was in the lawyer’s office, signing the divorce papers. —Take care of yourself, Toto —she said before walking out. Those words, filled with affection and finality, haunted him for years.

Back to the Present

Toto exhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair. Four years had passed since that day, years spent burying himself in work and pretending he was fine.

But now, after seeing her at the gala, the past felt alive again. The way she looked at him—with surprise, nostalgia, and something he couldn’t quite decipher—left him restless.

Could he fix what had been broken? Or was it far too late?

As rain pattered against the window, Toto allowed himself a thought he had avoided for years: hope.

Okey okey, this is my first mini series, and Im so happy for all the support that you guys are giving to me. Thank you thank you. Hope u like it. ❤️‼️

[lottluvs]

Jackie Taylor x Shy! Female Reader (but Jackie brings out your confident side): Childhood best friends to lovers.

Jackie and your parents ran in the same social circles, your fathers being especially close, while your mothers did not get along beyond polite pleasantries. You attend different schools but talk on the phone daily and see each other as often as possible. You both planned your entire future together, and you start dating. Your parents tell you that you’re moving, and no matter how much you beg to stay, it’s non-negotiable. Not long after, you find out about the plane crash.

Thank you! — 🫀

Teathered By Distance, Torn By Fate . (✉️)

gripping at the sheets as my tears stain them. crying. this reminds me of the movie ghost. ( p . s : proofread by scan , apologies for spelling errors ! ) 🌿

paring : jackie taylor x reader , c / w : character death , grieving , hallucinations , heartache , overall total devastation , fluff , hurt/comfort .

summary : childhood best friends become more , growing together , planning a future , when not only does reader move away , but the news of an unfortunate plane crash tears the two completely apart from harsh reality .

words : 5k

lottluvs , feel free to translate with credit . . open to criticism 🌱

a / n : i had to use a few time skips to pair this with all my ideas , my apologies!

Your first memory of Jackie Taylor was at her family’s Fourth of July barbecue when you were five years old. She had come bounding up to you, her confidence as radiant as the sun that reflected off her blonde curls.

“I’m Jackie,” she’d declared, sticking out her hand. “We’re going to be best friends.”

And just like that, she was right.

Your fathers worked together in the same tight-knit business circles, making your families natural fixtures in each other’s lives. While your mothers barely tolerated each other behind thin veneers of polite civility, Jackie and you were inseparable. It didn’t matter that you attended different schools or that she thrived in a social world that terrified you. Jackie made you feel like you belonged wherever she was.

Jackie always had a way of filling the silence you preferred with her own brand of light. When you shrank from new people or doubted yourself, Jackie was there to pull you forward, her hand warm and firm around yours. She made you feel safe and seen.

“We’re going to do everything together when we’re older,” she said one summer, sprawled across her pristine pink comforter, flipping through a magazine. “College, apartments, double dates. Everything.”

You didn’t know what your future looked like, but Jackie’s confidence was enough for both of you.

As you grew older, your bond didn’t fade. Even with your different schools and social circles, you talked every day—on the phone, at each other’s houses, and in the few moments you managed to steal during busy weekends. She told you about soccer practices and her drama with Shauna, and you shared pieces of your life you never thought you’d say out loud.

Then, when you were both sixteen, something changed. Jackie’s touches lingered just a little too long. Her eyes stayed on you in ways they hadn’t before. It was small at first—a brush of her knee against yours under the dinner table, a hand on your lower back that made your breath hitch. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. Jackie was affectionate with everyone. But deep down, you wanted it to mean everything.

It wasn’t until the night of her family’s Fourth of July party that your quiet longing turned into something real. You and Jackie had slipped away from the crowd, sitting in the backyard under the fireworks. The colorful lights reflected in her eyes as she turned to you, her voice soft but certain.

“You’ll always stay with me, right? Even if everything else changes?”

“Of course,” you whispered, not trusting yourself to say more.

Jackie smiled, leaning in until her forehead rested against yours. “Good.” Then, without hesitation, she kissed you.

Her lips were soft, hesitant at first, but when you didn’t pull away, she pressed closer. It felt like everything you’d ever dreamed but didn’t dare to hope for. When she pulled back, her eyes searched yours.

From that moment on, Jackie Taylor wasn’t just your best friend— more— she was your everything.

Dating Jackie was like standing in the sun. She made you feel braver, stronger, like the world wasn’t so scary with her by your side. But she also had an image to uphold, so your relationship remained a secret. It didn’t matter. The stolen glances, whispered promises, and late-night phone calls were enough.

“I don’t get how you don’t see it,” Jackie said one evening, her head resting on your shoulder as you lay on her bed. “You’re amazing. You just… don’t let yourself show it.”

You shrugged. “I guess I’m not like you.”

“No,” she said, sitting up and cupping your face. “You’re better.”

Jackie had a way of making you believe her, even when your doubts threatened to creep in.

But good things don’t last forever.

The announcement came one chilly autumn evening: your father’s portion of his job was transferring your family out of state. When they told you, your heart shattered. You begged them to let you stay—offered to live with relatives, promised to make it work somehow—but it was no use.

When you told Jackie, the confidence she wore like armor cracked.

“You can’t leave,” she said, her voice breaking. “You promised me.”

“I don’t have a choice,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face.

Jackie pulled you into her arms, holding you like she could keep you from slipping away. “We’ll make it work,” she said, her voice firm despite the tears in her eyes. “I’ll visit. You’ll visit. It won’t change anything.”

But you both knew it wasn’t that simple.

The days leading up to your move were a blur of heartbreak. Every moment felt heavy with the knowledge that it might be your last together. Jackie kissed you like she was trying to memorize the feel of your lips, held your hand like letting go would break her.

When the moving truck pulled away, you watched her figure disappear in the rearview mirror, and a part of you broke.

At first, you and Jackie tried to hold on. You called every night, sent letters, and made plans to see each other. But life got in the way. Jackie had soccer, her friends, and the pressure of being Jackie Taylor. You had your own struggles—trying to adjust to a new school, a new life, without her. The calls became less frequent, the letters shorter.

Then, one day, the calls diminished altogether.

You tried to tell yourself it was just life pulling you apart. That Jackie was busy, and you were busy, and this was normal. But deep down, you felt the tether between you fraying.

Then the news came.

A plane crash. Survivors unlikely.

The news came over the TV, cutting through the quiet hum of your family’s kitchen. The anchor’s voice was grave, his words slow and deliberate, as though speaking them aloud would somehow make them less horrifying.

“A private plane carrying the Wiskayok High School girls’ soccer team has gone missing. Early reports indicate that the aircraft may have crashed in a remote forest area, as it has been missing for over 48 hours. Authorities have not yet confirmed if there are any survivors.”

Your fork clattered onto your plate. The world tilted sideways as the air was sucked from your lungs.

No.

No, no, no.

Your parents turned toward you, their faces blurred through the haze of panic that had suddenly engulfed you.

“Isn’t that—”

You didn’t stay to hear the rest.

Heart pounding, you sprinted to your room, slamming the door shut behind you. Jackie. Jackie was on that plane.

Your hands trembled as you grabbed the corded phone from your nightstand, punching in her number. Each ring felt like an eternity, the dial tone taunting you with its silence. Then came the voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Jackie! You know what to do. Leave a message!”

Her voice, so bright and alive, hit you like a punch to the chest.

You hung up and immediately dialed again. And again. And again. Each time, the voicemail greeted you, that same cheerful tone now cruelly mocking.

The phone slipped from your hand, hitting the carpet with a dull thud. Tears blurred your vision as you stumbled toward the shoebox tucked beneath your bed. It was filled with letters, Polaroids, and little trinkets Jackie had given you over the years. The pink friendship bracelet she’d made at summer camp when you were thirteen. The mixtape she’d handed you last Christmas, scrawled with Our Favorites in her messy handwriting.

Fumbling through the box, you found her old soccer hoodie—the one she’d let you borrow after a game when you’d complained about being cold. It still faintly smelled like her, a mix of flowery deodorant and something undeniably Jackie.

You clutched it to your chest, sinking onto your bed as your sobs tore through the silence.

“No, no, no,” you whispered, shaking your head as though you could will the reality away. “She’s okay. She’s fine. She’s Jackie.”

Your fingers fumbled to rewind the tape deck on your stereo. The mixtape clicked into place, Jackie’s familiar voice spilling into the room as she introduced the first track—“Every Breath You Take,” by The Police.

“Okay, so, this is totally a banger,” her recorded voice said, laughing. “I’m going to make you listen to it on repeat until you admit it’s your favorite, too.”

The first beat riff began, jagged and raw, and you doubled over, clutching the hoodie tighter. Jackie was alive here, in this moment. She was alive.

Desperate, you opened the drawer of your desk where you kept the birthday card she’d given you last year. It was signed in her bubbly handwriting: Happy Sweet Sixteen! To my favorite human ever. I love you more than all the Pop-Tarts in the world.

The tears blurred the words, your chest heaving as you tried to breathe.

“—every move you make, I’ll be watching you.”

When your legs finally gave out, you slid to the floor, surrounded by her things. The hoodie, the bracelet, the mixtape, the Polaroids of you laughing together at the lake. Each item was a piece of her, a piece of what you’d lost.

You grabbed the phone again, dialing her number one more time.

“Hey, it’s Jackie! You know what to do. Leave a message after the beep!”

This time, you didn’t hang up.

“Jackie,” you choked out, your voice shaking. “Please, please call me back. I don’t care when, just… please.”

You knew the plane carried a phone, in your delusional confusion, you thought by calling her, she’d pick up.

The beep cut you off, and you clutched the receiver to your chest, your sobs swallowing the quiet hum of the tape still playing in the background.

The hours blurred together as you sifted through every piece of her you could find, replaying old voicemails, and clutching her gifts like they were lifelines. The sun set outside your window, casting long shadows across your room, but you didn’t move.

You weren’t ready to face a world without Jackie Taylor.

The days after the crash passed in a haze. You barely ate. You barely slept. You existed in a liminal space between denial and despair, grappling with the crushing weight of Jackie’s absence.

Your parents tried to reach you, hovering in the doorway of your room with concerned eyes. But what could they say? How could they comfort you when Jackie—your Jackie—was gone? Their platitudes of “We’re here for you” and “You’ll feel better in time” felt hollow, like someone trying to sew up a wound without stitching the edges together.

You spent hours lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, Jackie’s hoodie clutched to your chest. The cassette mixtape played on repeat, her favorite songs filling the suffocating silence. But even the music couldn’t drown out the gnawing ache in your chest.

You told yourself you needed to keep moving—go to school, do your homework, live your life. But every time you tried, the weight of grief pulled you back under. You’d sit at your desk with a pencil in hand, only to find yourself tracing her name over and over on the margins of your notebook. Jackie Taylor. As though writing it down could bring her back.

Your phone became a lifeline, a relic of hope you couldn’t let go of. You called her number every night, even when you knew it would go to voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Jackie! You know what to do…”

You’d listen to her voice until it hurt, your tears soaking into the receiver as you whispered into the void:

“Jackie, please. I don’t know how to do this without you, we— drifted apart I know, I fucking.. hate to admit it, but every ocean connects somehow, someway , right?”

As the days turned into weeks, people around you began to move on. The news cycle shifted, and the world seemed to forget the missing plane and the lives it had claimed. But you couldn’t forget.

You started carrying pieces of her with you everywhere. Her bracelet stayed on your wrist, the plastic beads pressing into your skin like a quiet reminder. The necklace she’d given you—a tiny star charm—rested against your collarbone, tucked beneath your shirt.

You wore her hoodie almost every day, its fraying cuffs a comfort against your fingertips. It didn’t matter if people stared. It didn’t matter if your parents exchanged worried glances. Jackie was gone, but these pieces of her felt like all you had left.

One evening, you found yourself alone in your room, the sun setting outside your window. The fading light cast long shadows across your walls, and for the first time in days, the stillness felt unbearable.

You pulled out the shoebox where you kept Jackie’s letters and gifts, spreading them across your bed like puzzle pieces you couldn’t fit back together. A folded note slipped from one of the Polaroids, fluttering to the floor.

You picked it up, unfolding it with trembling hands. It was from last summer, written in Jackie’s messy scrawl:

You’re my favorite person in the entire world, you know that? Even if you don’t believe it, I do. Don’t ever forget how much you mean to me.

Tears filled your eyes as you traced the words with your fingers. Jackie had always seen something in you that you struggled to see in yourself. Her confidence in you had been unshakable, like a lighthouse guiding you through the storm.

But now the lighthouse was gone, and you were left adrift in the dark.

The first time you returned to school, it felt like walking through a dream. The hallways were too bright, the chatter of your classmates too loud. You kept your head down, gripping the straps of your backpack like they might steady you.

In history class, someone whispered about the missing plane, and your chest tightened. You didn’t turn around. You couldn’t.

At lunch, your friends tried to engage you in conversation, but the sound of their laughter grated against your raw nerves. Didn’t they understand? Jackie was gone. The world wasn’t supposed to keep spinning like nothing had happened.

You excused yourself to the bathroom, locking the stall door behind you as your knees buckled. Pulling Jackie’s bracelet from your wrist, you clutched it tightly, the beads biting into your palm.

“Jackie,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “What am I supposed to do without you?”

The silence was deafening.

Eventually, the world forced you to keep moving, even when it felt impossible. You went to class. You finished assignments. You smiled when people asked if you were okay. But inside, the grief stayed with you, a constant ache that never fully faded.

You started writing letters to her, pouring out the words you could no longer say aloud.

Dear Jackie,

I miss you. I keep hoping I’ll wake up and this will all be some horrible dream. But it’s not. You’re really gone, and I don’t know how to live in a world without you. You always said I was stronger than I thought, but I don’t feel strong. I feel like I’m breaking.

The letters became a nightly ritual, a way to tether yourself to her memory. Some nights, you felt her presence so vividly it was like she was sitting beside you, her laughter ringing in your ears. Other nights, the emptiness was unbearable, and you cried until there was nothing left.

But through it all, you held on to the pieces of her that remained. Her words. Her gifts. Her love.

Because even though Jackie was gone, she had left a part of herself with you—a light that refused to go out, even in the darkest moments.

—

It had been nearly a year and a half since the crash. Time hadn’t healed the wound, but it had dulled the edges, turning the raw pain into something quieter, sharper. The grief was no longer a suffocating presence in your every waking moment, but it still lingered, hidden in the farthest corners of your mind. You’d learned to push it down, to carry it like a scar.

You had changed. You weren’t the same shy girl who clung to Jackie’s hoodie and cried herself to sleep every night. You had learned to move through the world without her, even if every step felt wrong. You wore her bracelet still, but her other things—the hoodie, the mixtape—were tucked away in a box at the back of your closet. You didn’t need to see them every day anymore. The memories of her were enough to carry you forward.

It was a quiet evening in your living room when the news broke. You weren’t even paying attention to the TV, your focus instead on a novel you’d been struggling to get through for weeks. The sound of the anchor’s voice was almost background noise until a familiar word cut through.

“…rescue efforts successful after nineteen months in the wilderness. A handful of the Wiskayok High School girls’ soccer team have been found alive…”

Your book slipped from your hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud.

The screen showed grainy helicopter footage of a group of girls being loaded onto a plane, their faces obscured by heavy jackets and camera angles. The anchor continued, her voice professional but tinged with emotion.

“While the survivors’ identities remain hidden to protect their privacy, sources have confirmed the rescue of Charlotte Matthews, one of the team’s midfielders. Families of the victims are being notified, and authorities are working to provide answers regarding the fate of those still unaccounted for.”

Your heart felt like it had been punched out of your chest. Jackie.

The familiar pang of grief rose to choke you, but this time, it was tangled with something else: hope.

“Mom,” you said, your voice shaky. “Turn it up.”

Your mother, seated in her armchair, grabbed the remote and increased the volume.

The camera panned to a press conference. A man you vaguely recognized as Lottie Matthews’ father stood at a podium, his face lined with exhaustion and relief.

“My daughter is alive,” he said, his voice trembling. “After nineteen months of thinking she was gone, she’s alive—“

The room spun around you. Nineteen months. Jackie had been missing for nineteen months. If Lottie had survived… Jackie could have survived too.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the phone. You didn’t even know who you were calling—your parents, someone, anyone who might have answers.

The line rang, and no one picked up. You hung up and immediately tried again, your breaths coming in short gasps.

“Jackie,” you whispered, her name slipping from your lips unbidden. “Please.”

But the hope burned out as quickly as it flared when the anchor returned, her tone somber.

“Authorities have confirmed that several team members did not survive the crash or the conditions in the wilderness. An official list of the deceased will be released in the coming days.”

Your stomach dropped.

No.

They couldn’t mean Jackie. They couldn’t.

Your mom reached out to squeeze your hand, but you flinched away, the world a blur of sound and motion.

“I need to—I need air,” you stammered, stumbling to your feet. You barely registered your mom calling after you as you slipped out the front door into the cool evening.

The street was quiet, the faint hum of crickets filling the air. You sank down onto the porch steps, burying your face in your hands.

You had spent the last year and a half convincing yourself that Jackie was gone. Trying, trying so hard to heal, but these words— the news— made you feel like blood was spilling from a slit throat. You’d told yourself over and over that she wasn’t coming back, that you had to let her go. But now, the possibility that she might be alive clawed its way to the surface, tearing open wounds you thought you’d closed.

And yet, there was that terrible, gnawing fear that she wasn’t one of the survivors. That the next announcement would confirm what you’d been running from since the day of the crash: Jackie wasn’t coming back.

You stayed there for hours, long after the sky had gone dark, replaying every memory of her in your mind. Her laughter. Her smile. The way she’d kissed you under the fireworks.

Would you ever see her again? Or was the Jackie you’d loved lost forever in the wilderness?

The days that followed were torturous. Every time you turned on the TV or opened a newspaper, there was another update, another scrap of information that sent your emotions spiraling.

The survivors had been flown to a secure hospital. Their names were still being withheld, except for Lottie’s, whose parents had chosen to go public. Speculation swirled about what had happened in the wilderness, but no one seemed to have answers.

Then, two weeks later, the announcement came.

“The identities of the deceased have been confirmed,” the anchor said, her voice heavy. “Among those who did not survive… Laura Lee, Jackie Taylor—“

It felt like the floor dropped out from beneath you.

No.

You shook your head, the word repeating over and over in your mind.

No.

Not Jackie.

But the anchor continued, listing names you barely heard through the ringing in your ears. You couldn’t breathe. Your vision blurred.

Your mother’s arms were around you, pulling you close, but the warmth of her touch did nothing to thaw the icy numbness that had overtaken you.

Jackie was gone. She had been gone all along.

The days after the announcement felt like a relapse into the darkness you thought you had escaped. It wasn’t just grief anymore—it was finality. The hope you had carried, fragile and desperate, had been extinguished. Jackie was gone. Truly, irrevocably gone.

But even as the world seemed to demand you move on, something inside you refused to let her go.

One night, you found yourself sitting in the quiet of your room, Jackie’s hoodie draped over your shoulders. You had slipped back into old habits, listening to her mixtape and rereading her letters until the words blurred together. It was the only way you knew to keep her close.

You stared at the photo on your bedside table—Jackie in her soccer uniform, her smile so vibrant it felt alive. The room was dim, the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows across the walls.

“Jackie,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

The silence was deafening.

Until it wasn’t.

A faint creak echoed through the room, and you froze. The air shifted, growing heavier, charged with something you couldn’t name.

And then you saw her.

Jackie.

She stood in the doorway, just as you remembered her. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her eyes—those warm, familiar eyes—were fixed on you. She was wearing the same soccer jersey she’d worn the day you last saw her, the one you had teased her for calling “too jock.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“Jackie?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

She smiled, that small, knowing smile that always made your heart ache.

“That’s me,” she said softly, stepping into the room.

You wanted to run to her, to throw yourself into her arms, but your body felt frozen in place.

“How—how are you here?”

Jackie tilted her head, her expression both tender and sad. “Does it matter?”

Her voice was exactly as you remembered—soft, confident, and full of that quiet assurance only she could bring.

She closed the distance between you, kneeling in front of where you sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands cupped your face, her touch impossibly— there.. warm.

“You’ve been carrying me for so long,” she whispered. “Too long.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached up to touch her face, half-expecting her to disappear. But she didn’t. Her skin was solid beneath your fingertips, her presence achingly real.

“I can’t let you go,” you said, your voice breaking. “I don’t know how.”

Jackie’s thumb brushed away your tears, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against yours. “You’ve been so strong, even when you didn’t think you could be. But it’s time, my love.”

“No,” you choked out, shaking your head. “Please. I can’t lose you again.”

She pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, and for a moment, the sadness in her gaze threatened to shatter you.

“You’ll never lose me,” she said. “I’m part of you. I always will be. But you have to let go of the pain. You have to let yourself live again.”

You clung to her, your hands gripping her shoulders like she might vanish if you let go. “Just stay a little longer. Please.”

Jackie smiled faintly, her fingers tracing the outline of your jaw. “Okay. You always were a clingy one; Just a little longer.”

She leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so soft it felt like a whisper. It was bittersweet, filled with all the love and longing you’d carried for her. For a moment, the world fell away, and it was just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of her presence.

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, her breath mingling with yours.

“I love you,” she murmured. “More than anything.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Jackie’s hand slid to your chest, resting over your heart. “Then promise me something.”

“What?”

“Promise me you’ll let yourself move on. Not forget me—never forget me. But don’t let this pain hold you back. You deserve to be happy.”

Your chest ached, the weight of her words pressing against the fragile parts of you. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” she said, her voice firm but kind. “You’ve always been stronger than you think.”

The room grew quieter, the edges of her form beginning to blur.

“Jackie—”

“It’s okay,” she said, her smile soft and bittersweet. “I’ll always be with you. Always.”

Her touch faded, the warmth of her presence slipping away like sand through your fingers.

And then she was gone.

You sat there in the silence, tears streaming down your face, your heart aching in a way that was both painful and strangely freeing. For the first time, you felt the faintest flicker of peace. Jackie was gone, but her love remained—a steady, quiet light guiding you forward.

You pressed a hand to your chest, where her hand had rested, and whispered into the stillness:

“I promise.”

—

The journey back to Wiskayok was one you had avoided for a year and a half. Every mile felt heavier than the last, the weight of grief pressing against your chest. Yet, after that night—after seeing Jackie—you knew it was time.

Your hometown hadn’t changed much. The streets still wound through familiar neighborhoods, the same local shops still dotted the corners, and the Taylor family’s perfectly manicured house still stood as a quiet reminder of the life Jackie had once led.

The memorial was in the center of town, near the high school where Jackie and the team had spent countless hours practicing on the soccer field. It was a simple but beautiful tribute: a polished stone monument etched with the names of those who had died in the crash. Flowers, candles, and small mementos surrounded it, placed there by loved ones and strangers alike.

You stepped closer, your fingers trailing across the engraved letters, Jackie Taylor.

Her name seemed to stand out among the others, though you knew that was just your heart speaking. She wasn’t just a name on a stone—she was your Jackie. The girl who had held your hand when you were scared, who had kissed you under fireworks, who had shown you how to believe in yourself.

Your hand slipped into your bag, pulling out one of the thousands of Polaroids you’d taken over the years. This one was your favorite. Jackie was in mid-laugh, her eyes crinkled and her head tilted back, a half-eaten popsicle in her hand. You’d taken it during one of those lazy summer afternoons when the world had felt so simple, so full of possibilities.

You crouched down, placing the photo at the base of the memorial. It felt like giving her a piece of yourself—a piece of the life you had shared, one she would always be a part of.

“Hi, Jackie,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’ve been… trying. I’m not sure I’m doing it right, but I’m trying.”

The wind rustled the leaves of a nearby tree, and for a moment, you could almost imagine it was her response—a soft, reassuring presence.

“I miss you every day,” you continued. “And I don’t think that will ever change. But I know now that holding onto the pain isn’t what you’d want. You’d want me to live. To keep going. To be happy.”

You took a shaky breath, brushing a tear from your cheek. “It’s hard, though. Letting go is hard. But I’m going to try. For you.”

Standing up, you took one last look at the photo, now surrounded by flowers and candles. It felt right, leaving it there—a tangible reminder of Jackie’s light in a sea of grief.

As you turned to leave, the weight in your chest felt lighter, if only by a fraction. Moving on didn’t mean forgetting. It didn’t mean leaving Jackie behind. It meant carrying her with you in a different way, one that didn’t hurt as much.

In the weeks that followed, you found yourself living in small but meaningful ways. You picked up new hobbies, reconnected with friends, and even let yourself laugh again. But you also made it a point to return to Wiskayok every few months, bringing another few Polaroids, another piece of Jackie’s memory, to leave at the memorial.

It became your way of honoring her—not by clinging to the past, but by celebrating the joy she had brought into your life.

And each time you left a Polaroid, it felt like a promise: to live, to love, to keep moving forward—even when it was hard.

In some way, it made her unseen presence feel even more lively.

[kentochronicles]

Hungry Eyes

Blurb: When the summer of 1987 brings you to a prestigious resort with your family, the last thing you expect is to cross paths with Nanami Kento—a stoic, reserved dance instructor with a past he refuses to share.

Drawn to him by more than just his flawless movements, you’re thrust into a world of secret dances, forbidden desires, and unspoken rules. As you struggle to find your own rhythm in a life that’s always been choreographed by others, you and Nanami discover that some steps can’t be taught—they’re felt.

But the summer isn’t endless, and the closer you grow, the more you’re forced to confront the question: what happens when the music stops?

Nanami Kento x Reader, Dirty Dancing au!

A/N: Hi everybody, thank you for your patience with this 😊 after spending a couple of weeks writing, it’s finally here! Thank you to @empower-bi-women for being my beta reader and for watching Dirty Dancing with me 🩵 please feel free leave feedback, like, and reblog, it’s always appreciated and I hope you enjoy! 🫶🏻

The resort had been a compromise, though it didn’t feel much like one to you. Your parents had wanted something extravagant—grand ballrooms, gourmet dining, and a place where they could mingle with people who mattered. You, on the other hand, had just wanted peace. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere away from their constant expectations and criticisms.

Their solution had been this place. A “perfect blend” of indulgence and tranquility, they’d called it. The brochure had promised “serenity, rejuvenation, and refined luxury.” It didn’t feel serene, though. It felt suffocating.

It had only been one day, but you already felt out of place.

From the moment you arrived, everything about the resort seemed to scream exclusivity. The valet had greeted your family with an exaggerated bow, their uniform spotless and their smile unnervingly wide. The lobby was a vision of marble and gold, with chandeliers that caught the sunlight in a way that made everything sparkle. Even the air felt fake, perfumed with something floral and citrusy that lingered far too long.

Your parents thrived in it.

They’d spent most of the afternoon chatting with the resort owner, a man who looked like he’d walked straight out of a fashion magazine. You’d tried to join in at first, standing quietly by their side as they discussed investments, vacation homes, and connections. But it wasn’t long before their conversation drifted into territory that made you feel small and out of place.

Dinner had been worse.

The dining hall was a grand affair, with long tables set with crystal glasses and silver cutlery. The other guests were well-dressed and spoke in low, practiced tones, their conversations punctuated with insincere laughter and thinly veiled one-upmanship. You’d spent most of the meal pushing your food around your plate, nodding absentmindedly when your mother tried to pull you into the conversation.

Eventually, you’d excused yourself, muttering something about needing fresh air. Your parents had barely noticed.

Now, the sun had set, and the resort was illuminated by strings of fairy lights that wrapped around the trees and cast a warm glow over the paths. From a distance, it looked enchanting, like something out of a dream. But as you walked, the magic quickly wore off, leaving only a sense of artificiality in its wake.

You wandered aimlessly, letting your feet carry you away from the main lodge and toward the darker edges of the property. The sounds of polite conversation and clinking glasses faded behind you, replaced by the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of something else.

And then you heard it.

A steady, rhythmic beat.

You stopped, straining your ears to listen. It wasn’t the soft piano music that had been playing in the dining hall earlier, nor was it the faint classical tune wafting from the outdoor lounge. This was different—louder, heavier, and entirely out of place in the resort’s refined atmosphere.

Curiosity piqued, you followed the sound.

The beat grew louder as you walked, leading you down a narrow gravel path that disappeared into a line of trees. Glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one was watching, you stepped off the main trail and continued toward the source of the music.

The path ended at a small, nondescript building tucked away behind the staff quarters. It was plain and unassuming, a stark contrast to the resort’s polished elegance. A faint golden light spilled out from the slightly ajar door, flickering against the trees like a beacon.

You hesitated, lingering just outside the doorway.

The sensible part of your brain told you to turn back. This wasn’t meant for guests. Whatever was happening inside was clearly private, and you had no business intruding. But the pull of the music—the way it thrummed through your chest and seemed to vibrate in your very bones—was impossible to resist.

Cautiously, you pushed the door open.

The air inside was thick and heavy, almost stifling. The music hit you like a physical force, loud and pulsing, filling the small space with an energy that was both intoxicating and overwhelming. The room was packed with people, their bodies moving in perfect sync to the beat.

It wasn’t like any dancing you’d ever seen.

This wasn’t the stiff, formal kind you’d seen at weddings or the carefree, awkward kind from high school dances. This was something else entirely—raw, intimate, and electric. Partners pressed close, their movements fluid and magnetic, each step a silent conversation.

You froze just inside the doorway, your presence barely registering in the dimly lit chaos. No one seemed to notice you; they were too caught up in their own world, their laughter and movements creating a rhythm all their own.

Your eyes scanned the room, unsure where to look. The dancers were a blur of motion, their faces glowing with exertion and exhilaration. The walls were lined with people watching, some cheering, others clapping along to the beat.

And then your gaze landed on him.

He stood near the edge of the room, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. At first, you thought he was just observing, but there was something about the way he carried himself that made it impossible to look away.

He moved before you could process it, stepping forward with an ease that seemed almost rehearsed.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He was dressed simply—crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and dark slacks that fit him perfectly. Yet, despite the simplicity of his appearance, he commanded attention. The moment he stepped onto the dance floor, the energy in the room seemed to shift, everyone else falling into rhythm around him.

His partner was a tall, confident woman with sharp features and a presence that rivaled his own. Together, they moved with a precision and grace that was almost hypnotic. Every step, every turn, every dip was executed with such perfect timing that it felt more like an art form than a dance.

You didn’t realise you were holding your breath until the music shifted and they broke apart, her laughing as she spun away from him.

“Are you lost?”

The voice startled you, low and calm but firm enough to cut through the noise.

You turned quickly, your heart pounding as you found yourself face-to-face with him. Up close, he was even more striking—high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and blonde hair that seemed almost golden under the dim light. His eyes, however, were what caught your attention. They were intense, unwavering, and locked onto you in a way that made it impossible to look away.

“I… I heard the music,” you stammered, your voice barely audible over the beat.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his tone not unkind but leaving little room for argument.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said quickly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I was just curious.”

“Curiosity isn’t always a good thing,” he replied, his gaze narrowing slightly.

“Nanami, give her a break.”

The voice came from behind him, light and teasing. His dance partner stepped forward, her hands on her hips as she smirked at you. “Not everyone gets a glimpse of our little world. Let her enjoy it.”

Nanami—if that was his name—sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t for guests,” he said firmly, though his tone had softened slightly.

“Maybe she wants to learn,” the woman suggested, her smirk widening. “What do you think? Ever tried dancing like this?”

“Me?” You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “No, I… I don’t think I’d be any good at it.”

“Perfect,” she said, ignoring your hesitation. “You can’t be worse than I was when I started.”

Nanami shot her a look, but his attention quickly returned to you. “Do you want to dance, or did you just come here to watch?”

The question caught you off guard. His tone wasn’t mocking, but there was a challenge in it, one that made it impossible to back down.

“I… I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Then you shouldn’t be here,” he said simply, turning away.

“Wait.”

The word left your lips before you could stop it, and he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

“You need a partner, don’t you?” his dance partner interjected, crossing her arms with a knowing grin. “You said so yourself earlier.”

Nanami sighed again, though there was a hint of resignation in the sound. “This isn’t a game,” he said, his gaze locking onto yours. “If you’re not serious, don’t waste my time.”

His words ignited something in you, a flicker of determination you hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’m serious,” you said, surprising even yourself.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his eyes studying you with an intensity that made your stomach twist. Then, finally, he nodded.

“Let’s see if you’re serious right now,” Nanami said. He held his hand out toward you.

Nanami’s hand hung in the space between you, steady and sure. His gaze bore into you, sharp and assessing, as though weighing the measure of your resolve.

For a moment, you hesitated. Every voice in your head screamed at you to back away, to leave before you made a fool of yourself. But there was something about the challenge in his expression, the quiet confidence in his movements, that drew you forward.

Swallowing hard, you placed your hand in his. His grip was firm, grounding, and he wasted no time in leading you onto the edge of the makeshift dance floor.

The woman from earlier smirked knowingly. “Good luck,” she said, her tone teasing. “Try not to step on his toes.”

Nanami ignored her, his focus entirely on you. The crowd seemed to fade away, the music quieting just enough to let his voice cut through the din.

“We’ll start simple,” he said. “Your posture needs to be right, or nothing else will work.”

He placed his free hand gently on your lower back, guiding you into position. The heat of his palm was almost distracting, but his tone remained professional, his movements precise. “Stand tall, but don’t stiffen up. Relax your shoulders.”

You tried to do as he said, adjusting your stance under his careful guidance. His grip on your hand tightened slightly as he gave a small nod of approval.

“Good,” he murmured. “Now, the basics. Follow my lead.”

The music shifted to something slower, a rhythm that was still steady but less overwhelming. Nanami began to move, his steps deliberate and measured, and you did your best to mirror him.

It wasn’t as easy as it looked.

Your first few steps were clumsy, your feet fumbling to match his pace. He didn’t comment, though his eyes flicked down to your movements with a critical intensity. When you stumbled slightly, his hold on you tightened, keeping you steady.

“Don’t think so much,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Just listen to the beat. Let it guide you.”

You nodded, trying to focus on the rhythm rather than the sheer proximity of him. The way his hand rested on your back, the subtle shift of his muscles as he moved—it was all incredibly distracting.

After a few more tries, you began to find a rhythm, your movements less hesitant and more fluid. Nanami gave a slight nod, a ghost of approval passing over his expression.

“You’re not hopeless,” he said, the faintest hint of amusement in his tone.

“Thanks, I guess,” you replied, unable to keep the sarcasm out of your voice.

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “Don’t get cocky. We’re just getting started.”

The music shifted again, picking up speed, and Nanami adjusted his steps accordingly. He guided you through the movements with a precision that made it clear this was second nature to him. His grip was firm but not overbearing, his presence commanding without being intimidating.

“Don’t anticipate my steps,” he instructed. “Just follow.”

“I’m trying,” you said, frustration creeping into your voice. “This isn’t exactly my comfort zone.”

“Good,” he replied simply. “Growth doesn’t happen in comfort.”

His words struck a chord, silencing any retort you might have had. Instead, you focused on his movements, letting him guide you through the dance. There was a strange sort of rhythm to it, a push and pull that felt almost like a conversation without words.

At one point, he spun you out, your hand slipping from his before he caught it again, pulling you back in. The motion was smooth, effortless, and for a fleeting moment, you felt a spark of exhilaration.

“Better,” he said, his tone neutral, but the faintest trace of approval lingered in his expression.

The music slowed again, and Nanami led you into a more grounded rhythm, his movements more subdued but no less intentional. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, his eyes watching your every step.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked suddenly, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

His brow furrowed slightly. “Doing what?”

“Giving me a chance,” you clarified. “I’m just some random guest. You could’ve sent me away.”

He didn’t answer right away, his expression unreadable as he guided you through another turn. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter, almost thoughtful.

“Curiosity can be dangerous,” he said. “But it can also be… valuable.”

You frowned, not entirely sure what he meant, but before you could press him further, the music came to an end. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, pulling you back into the present.

Nanami stepped back, releasing you from his hold. His expression had returned to its usual unreadable calm, though there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something you couldn’t quite place.

“You did well for a first attempt,” he said simply.

“Thanks,” you replied, still catching your breath. “I think.”

His lips twitched again, but instead of responding, he turned and began walking toward the door. Before he disappeared, he glanced back over his shoulder.

“Eight o’clock tomorrow,” he said. “Don’t be late.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you standing in the middle of the room, your heart still racing from the dance—and from him.

[fantom-princess]

Music to My Ears

A/N: This is my first fanfiction in a really long time. I would love to know your thoughts, if you enjoyed it, constructive criticism, etc.! I don’t know if anyone is reading this, but I thought I would give it a try. Also tried writing as a gender neutral person.

Trigger warnings: Alcohol mentioned, swear words, cheating mentioned

(y/n) - Your Name

(y/f/n) - Your Friend’s Name

(y/e/c) - Your Eye Color

(y/h/c) - Your Hair Color

~~~

“Hey, Spence! Glad you could make it!” Angela said, as she saw Spencer enter the busy bar. “I wasn’t sure you were gonna be here.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure I was gonna come, but you said it would be worth it,” he responded.

“Well, I definitely think you’re really gonna like (y/f/n).”

“C’mon Ang, not another set up.” He whined.

“Just hear me out! Okay? She’s the guitarist for the first band. She plays guitar- -” she gets cut off as she starts her list.

“Thank you all so much for coming out tonight for our ‘Cover Me Excited: Cheater’s Edition’ showcase!” an announcer proclaims on the stage. The entire bar erupts with applause and cheers. “Tonight, we’re celebrating the ones who have been cheated on! We hear you, we see you, we want you to know you’re not alone. Tonight is a night to say, ‘Fuck that! We are worth so much more!’ with some of the most famous songs, covered by some not-so-famous bands. We’ve got an exciting line-up tonight, starting with a band you all know, ‘cause they won’t leave us alone, Moonlight Extracted!”

The crowd roared with excitement as the instrumentalists started getting settled with their instruments and the announcer handed the microphone off to an extremely attractive person, in Spencer’s eyes. They had (y/h/c) and sharp (y/e/c) and he had a hard time taking his eyes off of them.

Angela turned to Spencer and said, talking over all the cheers, “That’s her! That’s (y/f/n)!” She turned back to cheer her friend on.

Shit, I’m supposed to be watching someone else, Spencer thought. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the one holding the mic at the front of the stage. Granted, he didn’t really try all that hard.

“That’s not true! They’re the ones who keep begging us to come back!” they say into the microphone.

Everyone laughs, as the announcer yells from offstage, “Only 'cause drink sales go up whenever you perform!”

They just shrug with a chuckle. “Whatever works to keep us on this stage. Speaking of, please tip your wonderful bartenders! They work so hard!” Everyone cheers. “Wow! This crowd is electric! Thank you so much for welcoming us! My name is (y/n) and we are Moonlight Extracted!”

The drummer counted the band in and their cover of “Carnivore” by Bear Attack started. Spencer noticed the singer close their eyes and bob their head to the music.

I wonder what (y/n)’s thinking about, he thought. They’re really getting into it.

Sitting in the dark, staring at the wall

You're with someone else, you tell me it's my fault

That I deserve it all

Every time you say you're gonna change

It sounds so familiar

But every time, it happens once again

Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from (y/n), despite knowing he should. But the singer just seemed to know how to command the stage. (y/n) took the mic off the stand and walked over to (y/f/n) to sing the first chorus.

Well, I'm tired of your bullshit

You took my heart and ate it

But I won't be your victim, can't take it anymore

I guess I wasn't perfect, but you were further from it

You're nothing but a monster

And I was your prey, carnivore

And I was your prey, carnivore

They were so into it; using their whole body to convey the pain of being cheated on. They floated around the stage, seemingly commanding everyone to look at them; not forcefully, but because everyone wanted to. I wonder if they’d ever been cheated on.

Sneaking in the door, you think that I don't know

Try to shrug it off, I caught you in the act

Don't you even try, to tell me that this time you're gonna change

It sounds so pathetic

'Cause every time it happens once again

Next, they went over to the drummer, both singing the chorus in harmony.

I'm tired of your bullshit

You took my heart and ate it

But I won't be your victim, can't take it anymore

Now to the keyboardist,

I guess I wasn't perfect, but you were further from it

You're nothing but a monster

And I was your prey, carnivore

Back to the front, they put the mic back on the stand, to really grab the attention of the audience for the bridge.

After all is said and done

I let you in to drink my blood

But you'd never had enough

Because after all is said and done

You're just a carnivore

You're just a carnivore

You're just a carnivore

They grabbed the mic, like their life depended on it and crouched down, to be a little more eye level with the audience.Their eyes were brimming with passion. Or rage, Spencer couldn’t tell which. Either way, it was absolutely captivating, and Spencer felt like it was just the two of them.

I'm tired of your bullshit

You took my heart and ate it

But I won't be your victim, can't take it anymore

Finally, they got up and put the mic back on the stand for this last part.

I guess I wasn't worth it, but you were further from it

You're nothing but a monster

And I was your prey, carnivore

And I was your prey, carnivore

And I was your prey, carnivore

I wonder who the asshat was that could have cheated on them, Spencer couldn’t help but think. If I were with them, I would never - - could never do that.

Everyone in the bar erupted with applause and cheers. Spencer heard Angela scream, “Go Moonlight Extracted! Go (y/f/n)!” and he broke out of his trance to clap as well.

After a quick bow, the band left the stage as the announcer got back up and said, “Thank you so much, Moonlight Extracted! They will be back out after a few more bands, so don’t go anywhere! Next up, we have the,” the announcer stopped to read a notecard, clearly not knowing this band as well as the first one. “Phantom Unicorns, playing ‘Before He Cheats’ by Carrie Underwood!”

The crowd cheered again as Angela grabbed Spencer and said, “C’mon! They’re coming out! Let’s go say hi to them!” As the pair made their way closer to the stage, (y/n) and (y/f/n) made their way closer to where Spencer and Angela were. There was a small lump in his throat just thinking about talking to (y/n). Right before the two pairs reached each other, (y/n) veered off towards a different direction. His heart sank a little, thinking about how he wouldn’t get to meet them.

“You were so great! Really had the audience in the palm of your hand!” Angela yelled, as soon as they reached her friend. She gave her friend a quick hug and then turned to Spencer. “Hey Spencer, this is (y/f/n). (y/f/n), Spencer.”

The two shook hands, a little stiffly and awkwardly. “Nice to meet you. Ang has told me a lot about you.” (y/f/n) said.

“Has she now?” He questioned, his curiosity piqued.

Angela just rolled her eyes. “Spence, would you mind grabbing me a marg from the bar, please?”

Assuming Ang wanted some time with her friend, Spencer agreed. He felt a small need to get out of there anyways. As he approached the bar, he saw (y/n) talking to a bartender. “Can I get four bottles of water, please?” He heard them ask. The bartender nodded, then turned to grab them.

Spencer took the chance to approach the singer. “Are four bottles enough after a performance like that?” He asked, trying as hard as he could to come off smooth.

They turned around with a smile that could have melted Spencer into a puddle, if it wasn’t so cold in the bar. “Well, you know, we gotta stay hydrated in order to keep going,” they responded with a laugh. “These are for my bandmates. I’m their pack mule, it seems.”

Spencer chuckled. “You are definitely more attractive than a mule.” (y/n) blushed at the comment. “And more talented. That was quite a show you put on.” He continued.

“Thanks for coming out to support us. It’s so much fun to perform. I’m (y/n), by the way.” They reached their hand out, probably expecting a handshake.

“Spencer.” He took (y/n)’s hand and shook. They both seemed to linger with their hands intertwined for longer than a regular handshake usually takes.

In the background, the announcer seems to be saying something into the mic again and that seems to break (y/n) out of their trance and let go of his hand. “Well, Spencer,” seemingly trying the name on for size. “It was really nice to meet you.” Hearing them say his name made him weak in the knees and he had to try hard not to let it show. “I gotta get back to the band before we go on again.” They turned to grab the water bottles, but turned back to look at the man one more time.

As they started backing away, Spencer called out, “Can I get your number?” (y/n) seemed to pause. “Y’know, so I can keep up with the band’s events… and stuff…”

(y/n) smiled up at him. They walked back, put the bottles down, and pulled a pen out of their back pocket. They grabbed Spencer’s hand, which sent shivers throughout his body, and started writing something on the back. “Shoot me a text sometime.” They said, casually, as they picked up the water bottles and walked away.

Spencer stood there in awe of the person who just walked away. He didn’t even notice Angela walk up behind him until she said, “So, what’d you think of (y/n)?”

Caught off guard, he replied after a brief pause. “She was nice; she played a good show and her guitar skills - - “

“No, not (y/f/n). (y/n),” she clarified, elongating the last syllable of the name.

Spencer just stood there, confused. “What are you… How did you - -”

“You got their number! Nice! That’s farther than I thought you were gonna get tonight!”

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Sorry to trick you, Spence. But you said no more set ups, so I just happened to… organize a meeting in which you might meet someone I wanted you to meet.”

He was still trying to wrap his head around everything that just happened. “But you said that (y/f/n) and I had so much in common.” Thinking back, he realized she’d only listed off one thing.

“Yeah, I think that’s the only thing you guys have in common. Great timing with the announcer, right? I can’t believe how well that worked out! I was gonna start bullshitting stuff.” She elbowed the shocked man in the stomach. “But you and (y/n) have way more in common.”

“Wait, so you’re friends with them too? Were they in on it?” Spencer felt a little betrayed.

“What? No! (y/n) had nothing to do with it! It was all (y/f/n) and me. Honestly, I didn’t think you’d get to talk to them tonight. Or they’d talk to anyone. They get really in the zone when performing.”

Blushing, he replied, “Yeah, I could tell.”

She smiled at the flustered man. “C’mon, they’re about to perform again,” she said as she tried to usher him back to where they were standing.

“Wait! I never got your marg,” he said, a little embarrassed about how sidetracked he got.

“All a part of my plan,” was all she said as she led him through the crowd.

~~~

A/N: I’ve had this idea for a little bit now and wanted to get it down before I forgot. I’ve thought about continuing the story, having this told from (y/n)’s perspective, or even trying out different stories here and there. I don’t know if anyone is interested, but I definitely had fun with this. Thank you so much!

[tkw92]

You’re right, I have no interest in hearing another beatdown on my favorite Superman film because I’ve heard more than enough bad faith arguments and dubious nitpicking from bloggers and critics. As far as the comic accurate argument, Superman has changed as years went on but people like to believe that Superman can never be anything more than a caricature of the Reeves film and Silver Age portrayal. Whereas Zack Snyder took inspiration from Superman’s tenure from the 90s-2000s in order to captivate a 2013 audience after the 2006 Reeves inspired Superman Returns so to say that his film wasn’t comic accurate is just not true.

Even the mainline Superman comics that were made the past few years feels differently from the Reeves portrayal. But more importantly, fans truly overestimate how many people actually care about the comics and we need to stop treating it as a hardline requirement to be a fan of the character. Nevermind the audience for all these shows, films, video games easily eclipses the comic readers because that’s how most people will have their first interaction with any comic book character. But fans will go into gatekeeper mode the moment someone reveals their love of the character comes from something they view as blasphemy let alone any non-comic material.

TL;DR

People overhype the role of the comics especially when they’re most likely hyperfocused on one particular era rather than the entirety of Superman’s decades long history. Zack Snyder did take inspiration from the comics. You have your reasons for getting hyped for Superman 2025 and I have my reasons to be defensive and skeptical about the early praise it’s getting.

Let’s agree to disagree and end the discussion on relatively good terms.

Is there anyone who is actually interested in Superman 2025 without using the film as another excuse to whine like a bunch of overgrown babies about a film from 2013. Nevermind they have been given more “hopeful” Superman in multiple instances since then but it’s very hypocritical for these people to tell fans to move on from Man of Steel but they never act on their own advice. I want to like the film but the years of gatekeeping and bad faith arguments are making it extremely more difficult than it should be. So if there’s anyone who has no ulterior motives with their excitement for Superman 2025 please let me know.

[showtoonzfan]

1. If the show was trying to make the point that Stolas and Blitz’s actions affect those around them negatively, you’d think the writing itself wouldn’t side with them while doing so and actually take the time to dive into the other side without being biased. Octavia was literally told to cut Stolas slack simply because he’s “trying”, Moxxie was given the “tough love” route, not even getting an apology but instead a toxic explanation of how Blitz is only rough on him because he’s trying to toughen him up, we have yet to see Verosika, someone who was hurt by Blitz and yet the show treats her like the antagonist and barley cares to focus more on her individually, Stella could have been someone who was affected by Stolas’s cheating like they set up in season 1, but instead is a one note evil bitch making him look like the one in the right, and I highly doubt Fizz or Barbie will stay mad at Blitz forever. The show sides with both of them constantly and I’m not even going to explain how Stolas is a sexual predator because you should already know why. It’s obvious unless you’re a Stolitz shipper who sees all of his harassment as “cute flirting”.

2. I don’t think y’all understand, but by making Stolas and Blitz sympathetic, having them innocent at birth, showing they’re traumatized and describing them as “sweet” while also wanting you to like them, root for them and side with them…….that’s making them good deep down and manipulating your audience into believing that they’re good people. And Blitz almost never has a reason behind his actions. I’ll give Stolas this, his terrible actions make sense because he’s unhappy, unsatisfied and stuck in marriage he doesn’t like, but Blitz just pushes people away and is an asshole because…..why? Because he hates himself? Because he’s lonely? Because he’s a dick??? He may be a 3 dimensional character, but that doesn’t automatically make his character good or make sense-

[apostaterevolutionary]

I am so sorry, apparently it’s 2024 and I’m arguing about dragon age again lmao. How did I get here! Why is this happening!! Time is a flat circle!!!

Anyway. People can feel how they want about the past games not mattering in this game. If you’re cool with it, I’m happy for you. But there’s one particular argument in defence of this choice that is really, really bothering me and I have to rant

The thing I keep seeing is “well all this other stuff has nothing to do with the main plot or Rook, so it should be cut” and that’s. Not a good way to tell stories in my opinion. Because here’s the thing: it’s not about the Big Overall Plot. It’s about the characters that live in this world, big and small

I’m going to use the example of Varric and Hawke cause I think it’s the easiest to explain quickly. Varric is a storyteller. That’s the defining trait of his character. He tells stories, and sometimes they’re true and sometimes they’re not and sometimes it’s something in between. In DA2 he tells you about his brother. In inquisition, he talks about hawke and there’s banter about several of the companions. Most of these are just little one liners that don’t “serve the overall plot” but they serve Varric’s character

And that matters

So if we take this character known for telling stories about people that have been in his life, well, he largely can’t do that now. How can he talk about Hawke, someone who can be a very close friend of his, without even their gender being a choice you can select? Or whether Varric should be saying ‘is’ or ‘was’ about them? How can he talk about the companions in DA2 or inquisition when a lot of them don’t have to be recruited or can die? Will he limit himself to only characters that are guaranteed to be a part of it and alive? Or is it that he and Rook will have such a shallow relationship that Varric, of all characters, never talks about his life and past exploits?

Or has Varric as a character changed so much that he doesn’t even want to tell stories anymore? That Hawke living or dying means nothing to him? That the friendships he built with people in 2 games mean nothing to him? That he’s become literally unrecognizable?

This is where the problem is. Sure, Rook maybe doesn’t care about these people they’ve never met. But do they care about Varric? What about if a companion mentions an old friend of theirs, talks about an experience they had that made them who they are - is that only okay if that experience isn’t from a previous game? Or are all the characters so flat that we never learn anything about their connections to others outside of Rook? Is this story SO focused on this player character and this plot that NOTHING else matters, even within the world, and there’s no depth to be found in any of the characters that feature in it?

Writing characters so that they only ever talk about things that “directly serve the plot” is how you get flat, unremarkable, boring, forgettable characters. And that’s not something I would have accused bioware of doing even if some instalments are stronger in this area than others. But it sounds like that’s what they’re doing here, at least with the past characters. Cause sure, maybe Morrigan is so closed off she’ll never mention her son and partner. That’s believable, even if iffy given that they’ve said she’s going to be more involved than we think. But Varric? VARRIC??? Never mentioning ANY of the people he used to spend time with and care about except Solas and maybe some of the inquisition characters that can’t die or not be recruited but also carefully skirting around what happened to them in the game? That’s literally not the same character

And I would expand this to like. A letter mentioning this or a codex mentioning that, or ambient dialogue about so and so - that makes the world feel deep and those random, unimportant NPCs feel richer by connecting them to the larger world. It’s not about “serving the plot”, it’s about making your world and characters deep enough that they feel real, lived in, and like something we can actually care about