#because I am so bored with writing what is

[cupcakedieabetes]

Dumpster Baby Part 1

I AM ON A ROLL, I THOUGHT OF THIS AND LOVED WHAT MY HEAD PRODUCED, SO I DECIDED TO WRITE IT OUT IN WORDS SO I DON’T FORGET IT! This is going to be long so sit back and enjoy.

This story is inspired by this, and I love it. Thanks @emacrow for letting me use your story as an inspo!!!!

Tw: mentions of csa/child trafficking, mentions of child death, child abandonment, neglect, etc

Hector blew out his cigarette, bored out of his mind as he's manning the cash register currently.

There was no customers, so nobody was going to complain if he was smoking in the store, right?

Then, the door to his store opened with a bang. He fingered the gun under his counter, looking towards the door, only to find a young man looking harried, half-naked and bloodied. His shirt in a bundle, and seemed to be originating from there.

"B-B-BABY! I found a baby in the dumpster!" The poor kid stuttered, his face full of tears as he stared horrifiedly.

Hector took one glance and realised the kid was telling the truth. He took a puff of his cigarette, inhaling it slowly before he exhaled it exhaustively.

"Kid, you must be new in Gotham. Dumpster babies aren’t all that rare in Gotham. Gotham's a complete shithole. If you can't even feed yourself, how can you feed another?" Hector told the kid harshly. The kid held the baby tightly.

"B-but.."

"It's reality in Gotham. Go put back the baby where you found it. In a place where child trafficking and prostitution and such are common, it's best to let it die. It's the greatest mercy you can give it."

The kid became eerily calm and quiet. Hector noticed that his hiccups from sobbing had just gone entirely silent. Then his form starts to glitch as if whatever made him keep his form was struggling to retain itself.

"Ņ̴͉͖̄͐̊͐͒̽̆͗́̅̾̈́̾ǫ̵͈̠̱̱̯̹̳̜̓́͊̚t̶̢̛̛̤̰̦̜̙̲̪̺̬̉̇̍̃̏͐̽̂͊͋̕̕ ̵̡̑͑̏i̷̡̢̡̨̛̦͚̱̝͓̰͈̞̭͔͚̇̑͊̏͊͜f̷̡͔̫̭͉̳͖̰͈͒̌͒̽̔̈̔͋̋͐́́̎̓̑͆ ̸̨̢̟͕͕̫̬̱͍̙̻͉̈́́̐͜I̷̛͕̟̻͗̒̂͌̔͆̾̑̃͘͜͠͝ ̴̨̼͉̘͚̹̙̥̟̀̈͌̑̎́͑̓̉̈́͑̆̑͘̚c̴̣͙̖͙͙̜̠̩̟͍͉̤̮͚͖͉̒̉̾̽̈́̀̒͆͊͛̽͐̂̚͘͝͝a̶̲̤̼͒̒͒̔̌̈́̇͌͝n̷̡̙̻̈́̂̀̈̓̀̄̊̐͆͘͠ ̵̨͔̼̤̮̍̌h̶̬̝̫͖͚̰̹̲̮̮̬͓̙͔̆̈̓̅̑͊͐̆̍͌͘͜͜ȩ̷̳͖̹͓̞̬̟̥̼͎̰͇̑̅͑̽̔̅͆͂̑̏͝l̶͚̜͔̮̯̼̝̿͜p̷̳̯̦͓͔̩͕̩͔̈́̀̆́́͑̄̈́̕ ̸̦̏̂̍̉͗͂͗̂͂́̉̚͝ȋ̶̛͕̠̟̦̈́̏̾̾͊͑̂͠t̸̡̡̡̛̼̺͚̜͖̫̼̲̪̫̗̜̓̒̿̾͂́̊̃͜͜.̷̡̛͚̱̫̰͕̳͖͙̾̀̓̓̀̈́̓͑́̾̚͠ͅ "

And without a trace, the kid and the baby disappeared, leaving nothing but the memories.

Hector stared at the place where the kid was once was, putting out his cigarette to rub his face tiredly.

What has he just done?

__________________________________________________________

Danny stared at the baby as he flew back into his hotel room. He had only gone to Gotham because he was initially visiting the Capital Crime City to scout out a new place for Jazz, who was planning to move here for residency at Arkham.

He decided to volunteer to scout ahead bc why would he be scared of crime when he's already dead?

But how did he get to this?

The baby girl mewled in his arms, still red and wrinkled, with their umbilical cord still attached. She was wrapped up in his shirt, having been found naked in a trash bag in a dumpster.

While walking past an alleyway, he heard something in the trash. And something else. So he decided to investigate. He was flying invisibly in ghost form, so there was no way anything would injure him.

So he opened the dumpster lid and saw a suspicious trashbag. In it was a newborn baby girl.

He bawled his eyes right out there bc he couldn't fathom why anyone would just abandon a baby in the dumpster. According to Jazz, multiple baby boxes were scattered across the city, a helpline was available for scared mothers/mothers-to-be, and many other options exist to prevent this.

It was cruel to the baby, but it was also cruel to the mother too. He only realised this according to what the man said. Gotham was a shithole. Who knows if your baby will end up being in the worst position ever, and if you don't have the resources, it's best to kill it to give them mercy. It was the only thing one can do when they're powerless. The best and only gift you could give to your child.

He lay on the bed with the baby sleeping on his chest. He was skin-to-skin with the baby as she was so cold to touch that he raised his own temperature despite the discomfort, as he was naturally cold.

And despite the discomfort, his core purred at having fulfilled his Obsession with Protecting.

She wiggled in his arms, and then a dawning thought of horror came to his mind. She wasn't the only baby that was abandoned, was she?

He carefully got up slowly, ensuring the baby wasn't woken up by the movement. She had a big day today; she should get a lot of sleep.

He placed her on the hotel bed and, for the first time, used his power as King to enact an order.

Protect the abandoned children. If nobody wants them, then he'll take them. One man's trash is another man's treasure, and he shall treat them like they deserve to.

Aw, he would have to get a place for them, wouldn't he?

He gave the baby girl a name to start her new life: Portia.

Then, he found another child who was abandoned by his parents. They neglected and beat him, so wouldn't he be considered abandoned? The boy willingly went when Danny offered Bennett, or Benny, to take him away. He was only 5.

Then the two became four when he found twin children all dirty and covered in dirt, sleeping under a cardboard box as they shared a ratty blanket. Blake and Harper were 10.

He got some Ghosts to help, like Lunch Lady, who loved cooking for those old enough to eat solids. She went all out cooking nutritious food for starving children.

He found a good enough warehouse and took it over from a drug den, which he got rid of. He then began renovating to make it a habitable place for the children.

But sometimes, it felt like he didn't have enough hands to hold them all.

But he was moldable. He could shapeshift into anything he can of his own will.

He grew many hands to carry them. He could hold his new children in his arms.

Four became Eight, then Eight became Thirteen. Thirteen became Twenty.

He wasn't big enough, so he grew and grew. They could all ride on his back together so there would be no fighting.

He didn't have enough eyes, so thinking of how to better observe, his mind suddenly thought of the Observants and how they're basically just eyeballs.

With duplication, he only just duplicates his eyes and lets them float around. Then, he could see e̷̩͈̙̘̗̅̽̾̎̑̉̇̈́͋͋̐͘̕͝v̷̤͙͈̓̂̽ë̸̡̠̩̠̠̟͍̭͙͈̫́̈́ͅr̵̢̨̻̩̰̼̝̞̙̜͙̈́̈́̉̌̾̀͊͊̚y̸̢̧̪̯͕̼̘̗̦͚̙̱̳̙̪͓̍͂̂̽̉̋̀̈́̔̓͝t̶̟̱̽̄́̉̈́̿̍͒̑̓͂͠͝ḩ̴̣̲̬̤͇͍̞̺̥͉̔̓̓̐̄̐̋́͘͜ͅi��̳̳̭̀͆͗̈́̒̆̀͒̆̄̕͝͝ņ̸̛͍̳̣̦̲͔̼̝̪̲̗̩̤͋̈̾ͅģ̴̛̼̥̫̰̻͑̑̍͋́͂͌̎̎̈́̈́̏͒͆͠͠.

Despite this form, no children had ever been scared of him. His core would always rumble with protection, so they instinctively knew they were safe with him.

Twenty became Twenty-Three, then Twenty-Seven. Then Thirty-Two.

He loved it. He could make a difference. Even the children who weren't his would come running to him for protection. He would feed them and care for them like his own before sending them off to their parents, who actually cared for them.

He couldn't stop those who stayed before going back out. He did offer to take them in as his children, but some had refused, as they've always been independent.

But at least they would always have a place to go to.

[necroliberty]

So because this is amazing and because I am hyperfocusing on Gravity Falls. Let me share a bit of Amelia's long-lost sister, Kelly Ness. Okay, they aren't sisters anymore, but still.

Kelly fell on the blue grass of a random dimension. She wasn't the type to keep note. The atmosphere was different, somehow safe and dangerous at the time. But again, she didn't particularly keep a note on things like that. Kelly just made a bee line to a mailbox inside either various stickers added to the tin. Mabels had a knack to give stickers to everything. But Kelly just gave them a cursory glance as her right eye gave her the info on each. Giving the coordinate to each stickers place of creation. She should make note of getting stickers for respectives Mabels. Sometimes, it was the only thing that could tell Kelly where to actually send the damm things. Eventually, she opened the mailbox with a specific key and looked through the letters. Some were boring ads that she threw around. No one needed those. Some were Stanfords incredible writings, making sure to say exactly who and where it should be sent. Other times, it was Stanley's doing letters of his own. They were often hard to send back. Mabels were also there. It was obvious with how much stickers and colors her letters had. She practically never had to read the content to know exactly where to go. A bit more, and she was wondering if Mabels just knew the mailbox wasn't actually magic. The rarest were of Dipper and McGucket. For whatever reason, these two either didn't bother make letters or weren't the type to fall in a portal. "Or maybe they both want to be left alone?"

She blinked, and her right eye started to smoke under the intense heat. Forcing Kelly to keel over and grip her eye as the letters floated around her. Smoke from her eye, holding onto them with annoyance. Through her right eye, she could always see something the one who spied. Well, what he saw, to be specific. A mirror was right in front of the demon. A man in his early 20s with brown curly hair broke through by antlers that seemed to either spill ink or petrol from every imperfection in the wood. His eyes were big, staring down the mirror for some kind of stability. Not to mention his long tail swiping at the air behind him. His clothes were still looking like a preacher from a school play. He looked incredibly annoyed. This was a very bad day. "Vulture, do I need to remind you not to insult the likes of me so blatantly."

Kelly wanted to scream that this was stupid, and she was allowed to ask questions. But she also knew better. Days like these, you needed to placate him. So Kelly still held the expression of pain and started to add a quiver to her voice. "I am sorry, I didn't mean for my words to cause harm. I was a fool to even think it in the first place."

The demon stared at his own reflection, closing his eyes too to be able to see her. He vaguely shook his head, making some his hair made of leaves fall to the bed surrounding him. "No, not a fool, just a bad day." He looked down at his hands and feet. His hands were now made of wood, and his feet were deer hooves. He hated this form with such wrath. But his eyes told that he knew better than to take her acting as proof. He didn't trust Bill anymore than she trusted him. He finally closed his eyes again.

Kelly sighed as the pain stopped. She breathed slowly and normally not to let the right eye see her weak. All the letters she had dropped were now safely in her hands, and she looked through them again. Filing them into various pockets in her messenger bag. Making sure she didn't put a letter for the wrong timeline or dimensions.

When she was finally done, she walked away until she could find a loophole in the dimension. Leaving it behind to give letters to family and friends.

This is Kelly Ness as a Mailman. They don't get uniforms because she is the only one.

My smol mini series about the drifting stars au is here!! Ft letters to Dipper!! May do more depending on the reception~

[witherby]

hello! great work so far :-) im getting into batfam myself and been loving the platonic/familial works you do w littlest wayne! was wondering if you'd ever do an teen y/n or just an older one? I'd love to see you tackle the idea of a robin y/n or jaybe just some angsty kid stuff,,,,,, hope you had a good new years!

-- :33Anon

I love angst with my whole heart and soul, and I'm happy to write it with a slightly older Reader. Hope you don't mind I've commandeered your prompt to showcase the ability you guys voted on.

This one's a long read so I'm splitting it up. This part is roughly 2400+ words.

The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home

(Part 1/2)

Masterlist is Here!

Uncle J'onn is looking at you curiously.

He's been doing that a lot, lately. When Daddy brings you to the Watchtower to be babysat so he can go save the world, one of his co-workers that they can afford to spare gets put in charge of keeping an eye on you. Usually it's Uncle Hal, but this time it's J'onn and he's in his natural form, which you don't mind. Green is your favorite color, and his whole body is green! He's nice and calm, and tells you lots of stories and plays any game you want, even if it's hard for him not to cheat and read your mind. He says it's instinct. You don't hold it against him because you still have fun.

Lately, though, when he talks to you, he tilts his head a bit. He usually does that when he can't understand something.

You wipe your face, checking for cookie crumbs. All clean. You search your shirt for any weird marks or stains. All clean. You scrunch your nose and puff out your cheeks, pouting.

"What's wrong, uncle J'onny?" You ask him. Daddy says the way to get honest answers from someone is just to be forthcoming (Dicky told you what forthcoming meant when you asked him later), so you are. "Did I do something wrong?"

That seems to snap his train of thought. J'onn shakes his head and goes back to sorting out the jigsaw puzzle pieces for you. You're good enough at this to do 100-piece puzzles, now, and when you get really stuck you don't even cry anymore!

"Nothing is wrong, Flittermouse," he says, watching you start putting the edges together first like Dami taught you. "You are simply...changing. Differences are not inherently wrong."

"What's inherably mean?"

"Inherently. It means instinctively, or something that is "set in stone." A rule that does not change. I am stating that change is not something that is always wrong. It's not a firm rule."

You pout and try to process all of that in your brain. It was a partial answer. Daddy says that means people might want to hide something from you.

"What's changing?" You ask him. "I got older a week ago. Is that what you mean? I'm four, now. Grandpappy says I'm getting so big and growed up. He says to not do that so fast. I dunno how, though. He's silly."

J'onn hums. His eyes look away from you as he considers what to say. You put one whole edge together before he speaks again.

"You know that I am not a human, correct?"

"Yeah, I know," you say. "I don't care. I love you. And auntie Diana. And uncle Clark. And uncle Barry. And —"

"Thank you," J'onn gently interrupts. "Do you also know that, sometimes, humans are born not entirely human? That sometimes they get special abilities?"

"Yeah, I know that," you repeat.

"I suspect that —" he cuts himself off, hesitates, then starts again. "Little one. You are showing signs of being one of those humans with special abilities."

"I am?" You ask. You perk up. "Can I fly?!"

You immediately abandon the puzzle and climb onto your chair, about to jump off of it to try and fly around, but J'onn catches you by the back of your shirt before you can hit the ground.

"You cannot."

"Aww...then I don't wanna be a megahuman," you complain, stomping your foot.

"Metahuman."

"Whatever."

"I am sorry," J'onn says, "I did not mean to upset you. I do think you are developing powers, however."

"Not fly powers?" You frown.

"No, not flight powers."

"Boring," you say, blowing raspberries. J'onn cracks a smile at your antics and you giggle. "Help me do the puzzle, please!"

"Alright," he relents, sorting more pieces for you. You're both quiet for a while, and you get the whole frame done before he speaks again.

"Little one. Do you know your father's rule about metahumans?"

"Yeah," you say, grinning, because you're a great listener. You pitch your voice down and make it scratchy. It's adorable in your four-year-old tone. "No metas in Gotham. I am Nighttime. Raaahhh."

J'onn huffs in amusement. "Right. He usually means what he says, does he not?"

"Yeah," you agree, "daddy is a bad liar. He lied and said he didn't eated the last cookie once, but he did eated it. Alfie was mad, 'cause it was for Dami, but Dami didn't care. He likes brownies more than cookies. I like brownies, too."

"I figured," J'onn says. He's not looking at you again. This time he's frowning.

"Do you want brownies?" You ask, figuring that was the issue. "I don't have any. I can ask for some when Daddy comes back. I'm good at sharing, 'cause I'm a good noodle, like Jay says."

"No, but thank you for offering to share. Jason is right, you are a good noodle."

You preen. "I know!"

J'onn drops the subject again and helps you complete the puzzle. You squint at every piece in concentration and politely ask him if he can dim the lights so you can work better. He complies, and after another hour and a half, you have a completed image on the table.

"Yay! We did it!"

The sounds of chatter and footsteps appear down the hall moments later, and you spring to your feet in delight.

"Hello!!!" You shout.

A chorus of "hello!" greets you in return from multiple heroes, and the rest of the Justice League files into the room one by one. They don't look too roughed up, so the mission wasn't very dangerous. That's good. You stand by the door and offer them hugs. Everyone complies, to your endless delight.

"Daddy!" You cheer when you see him, running and hugging Batman's legs. He scoops you into his arms and you grin and point at the table. "Uncle J'onny and I dided a whole puzzle! I didn't give up!"

"Good job, Mouse," Bruce says, reaching out to adjust the light. "You did it in the dark?"

"Yeah," you grin, kicking your feet. "Did you punch bad guys?"

"I did."

"Did you win?"

"Yes."

"Can we have ice cream?"

"Maybe after dinner." He carries you down the hall and towards his temporary quarters, the place he'll stay after a particularly tough mission when he can't make it home right away, and deposits you gently on the bed. "I have to debrief with everyone, and then we can pack up and go home."

"Okay, daddy," you say, already digging through the nightstand for a toy to play with. "I stay right here!"

"Good job," he says again, kissing the top of your head, and leaves you alone with a small wave.

--

The next time you need to be at the Watchtower, it's with Uncle Clark and Auntie Diana. The mission wasn't a super dangerous one, so they both got to stay behind and entertain you.

Today, you're a cashier at your world-famous grocery store. You have the best ingredients all over the world.

"Welcome to the groshy store, what do you want stranger?" You demand, getting into character. Clark looks mildly offended.

"Whoa, hello. That's a lot of 'tude for a paying customer," he says.

"You didn't buy nothing yet! Whataya want!"

"Uh. Some carrots please."

"All out."

Clark narrows his eyes at you. "Can you check in the back?"

You turn around. You turn back.

"All out. Whataya want!"

"You barely looked!" He insists.

"FRESH OUTTA CARROTS, BUB. WHATAYA WANT."

"Oh my goodness, now there's yelling. I think I need to speak to a manager."

"Okay!" You shuffle across the room and grab Diana's hand, leading her back to Clark. "This is the manager. Auntie, tell him all the carrots are gone. He can't have any."

Diana covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. "You heard them, stranger. There are no carrots here."

"Well, aside from the blatant nepotism, auntie, I think you're hiding the carrots from me," Clark huffs, crossing his arms. "I need them for my soup. Guess I'll go to the grocery store across town. I hear they're nicer."

"No," you gasp, "wait. Okay maybe I have one secret carrot. I go get it."

You leave their giggling forms and run over to the toy box that was set up for you on the watch tower, thrusting your hands inside to dig around. You squint your eyes, but all the bright colors are hard to distinguish properly. In the dark spaces, deeper into the box, is where you cast your focus. Instinctively, you follow the trail and close your hand around a plastic carrot. You lift your hand triumphantly.

"Okay, got it!" You cry, only to startle when you find both Clark and Diana kneeling beside your toy chest. Diana picks you up around the waist and takes several steps back, and Clark's eyes turn that funny shade of blue they do when he's using x-ray vision. "Umm, I gotted the carrot already. It's in my hand."

"Are you injured?" Diana asks you, expression deadly serious. You frown and shake your head. "You're certain? I could sense something in that box with you."

"No, I'm fine," you promise. Clark stands up and his eyes go back to normal. He shrugs, brows furrowed.

"There's nothing in there but toys."

"Yeah," you nod, "toys and dark spots."

Both heroes look at you. You squirm in Diana's hold shyly.

"Um, want to pay for the carrot?" You ask, holding it up. "It's only ten dollars. Orrr one lollipop." You whisper conspiratorially. "I can be bribed."

Diana and Clark exchange glances. Clark gingerly takes the carrot from you and puts it back in the toy box.

"Sold. Let's go to the kitchen and pick out which flavor you want."

You grin, forgetting about the game, and Diana puts you on the ground so you can follow excitedly after them. With a couple "pretty please's" and your lethal puppy dog eyes, you even manage to get two lollipops. You ask to be hoisted onto the counter so you can swing your feet as you enjoy the candy, and both heroes perch on either side of you.

It's quiet for a while. It feels like that weird, anticipatory quiet you felt with Uncle J'onny, but you don't know what for, so you wait for one of them to speak. You finish off one whole sucker and open the second one when it happens.

"Mouse?" Clark eventually asks, "can you explain what you meant about your toys? That there are dark spots in there?"

"Yeah," you say, "shadows. Dark spots. Light not touching."

"And you can...feel shadows?"

You hum, thinking it over. "Um...yes. Kind of."

Clark and Diana look at each other again. They're frowning. You frown.

"Can you tell us what you mean by that?" She asks.

"Um. I wanted the carrot, for uncle Clark," you say, "so he can buy it at my groshy store. And the dark spots showed me where it was, and I grabbed it."

"Did they also help you complete the jigsaw puzzle, when you were with J'onn?" Diana asks. "It was quite dark when we got back." You nod.

"Yeah. Easier to do in the dark. It's not cheating!" You blurt. "I didn't cheated!"

"Okay, ya' didn't cheat," Clark agrees, gently patting your back. There's a slight drawl in his words which usually shows up when he's stressed out. "We're just curious, is all, darlin'. Seems you've got a... A special talent, we can call it."

"It's a power. They're a metahuman, Kal," Diana says simply, "and you know Bruce's rule."

The rule? Which one? Always brushing your teeth before bedtime? Or maybe no sweets until you finish your dinner? Hmm, but you haven't had dinner yet. That doesn't make sense.

"No metas in Gotham. I'm very aware, Diana."

"Then you see the problem."

Oh. Now you think you know why uncle J'onny was upset that day.

"Now wait a minute," Clark says. He looks genuinely angry, which confuses you. Did they not like that you could ask the dark for help? They had superpowers, too. You figured they would be happy. "They're his kid."

You are. You're Daddy's little Flittermouse, scampering around and bringing joy. That's what everyone tells you. They love you.

"You've seen how hard he works to keep us out of Gotham," Diana says. "We can be trusted to babysit, but we can't enter the city? What does that tell you?"

"That's different. He's territorial, we all know that. He's not a monster, Diana. He would never hurt them —"

"I'm not saying he is. I'm not saying he would. But I am saying that he doesn't bend his own rules. He does not make exceptions."

Oh.

You sit almost numbly on the counter and watch Clark and Diana start to argue over your place in Gotham. Over your place at home.

You think about Daddy's rule about no metas in Gotham. You think about your new ability to interact with shadows.

Oh.

The lollipop tastes like ash on your tongue and the tips of your fingers feel like tv static. When you blink, your eyes sting as they well up with tears. You've been so good about not throwing fits, about not being a crybaby, about being as strong as your super cool daddy and brothers and grandpa.

But you can't call them that anymore, can you? They don't want metas in Gotham, and that's what you are, now. You can't live with your family anymore.

Large, fat tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You whimper and both Diana and Clark whip their heads around to look at you in shock.

"No, oh no, don't cry," Diana coos, "you don't need to worry. Your father isn't —"

You bat her hands away when she reaches for you and jump off the counter, running underneath Clark's cape. They don't catch on to what you're doing in time.

Clark practically rips it off and fans it on the floor, floating above it with wide eyes. Diana kneels next to the fabric and frantically pats it, searching for you.

But there's nothing. You've fled into the shadow Clark's body cast and allowed the darkness to swallow you.

[yolothh]

Viktor really meant the "in all timelines, in all possibilities" line BECAUSE IT'S OUR TIMELINE TOO! THEY EXISTED!

Please take a moment and let me introduce you to: Giacomo Leopardi and Antonio Ranieri's partnership.

Leopardi was an italian poet, author, philosopher and philologist. He is an important figure in Romantic literature (albeit, he did criticize the Romantic worldviews).

All throughout his life he suffered from a debilitating chronic illness (juvanile ankylosing spondylitis) that had him suffer horrendously from a young age, until it eventually took his life in 1837, when he was 39 years old.

He dedicated most of his life to studies, translating old tomes, writing poems and treaties diverting on humanity's degeneration from our glorious past to our suffering present. He exhorted modern folks to take action against the unjust present, aiming to a revolution of our pitiful condition.

In 1827 Leopardi meets Antonio Ranieri a young man that is described (verbatim) as a "very young and handsome in person and spirit".

Ranieri had been exiled from his city during his youth, because of his excessively liberal views in regards to politics.

The two become very close friends, but it's in 1830 that their "partnership" (literally, not making this up, Ranieri himself wrote a book about it if you care to check it out "Seven years of partnership with Giacomo Leopardi") starts. They move together from Firenze to Naples and Ranieri attends to Leopardi's every wish (noted that this man was a fanatic for sweets) paying with money from his own pocket.

Now, friendship at the time was different than what it is now, and they might’ve been very close friends, yes. But I'll give you some words from their letters and what Ranieri wrote down in his book and leave it to your judgment.

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

Ranieri, Naples, 1833:

"I- left my own bed- used to sleep in a room that was not mine (scandalous at the time) to sleep by his side"

Leopardi, Florence, 1832-33, from when they got separated because Ranieri needed to tend to some family issues:

"My Ranieri, you will never abandon my side, nor will your love for me grow colder. I don't wish for you to sacrifice yourself for me. In fact, before anything else, I strongly wish for you to take care of yourself first: whatever you choose to do, you will do it so because we live for one another, or I know that I do for you; my last and only hope. Farewell, my soul. I keep you close to my heart, which in both possible and impossible occurrences, will forever be yours"

Leopardi, Florence, 1832-33, on someone making a joke out of Ranieri for staying by Leopardi's side:

" [...] Oh, my Ranieri! When will I get you back? I won't stop trambling until I'll recover this immeasurable love, until I know it's true. Farewell, my soul, with all my spirit's strength. Don't get bored of loving me"

And more:

"Ranieri of mine, I need not say that in every way you wish, I will be there with you (...). My resolution has been so for a great time now: that I will never be parted from you. Farewell"

In 1833, Ranieri sends a letter where he says he intends to set off to get Leopardi and go live together in Naples, to which Leopardi answers:

"My Ranieri, will this [letter] reach you in Naples still? I must warn you, I cannot live without you no longer, I'm overtaken by a morbid impatience to see you again, and that I am sure that if you will be late, I will die from the malencholy of not having you still. Farewell, Farewell"

Ranieri, on the landlady that took them in in Naples:

"She revealed this: that I had introduced a consumptive in the house: that, loving him so much as to stay up at night by his side, there could be no reason I could not do that as well in mine own house"

--

So now, take it as you will- because maybe I am way too much of a nerd about this stuff- but I can't read ANYTHING Leopardi and Ranieri related without seeing Viktor and Jayce. I will gladely add more in the future.

--

Addition! If you want to watch/read on them (but mostly Leopardi, which is a catch) I STRONGLY advice you:

Leopardi. Il poeta dell'infinito - I don't personally love it but if you want more on them, thats the place

Il giovane favoloso - AMAZING movie

Canti - by Leopardi, it is a collection of poems he wrote and I think it is absolutely useful to understand his marvelous mind and character

Sette anni di Sodalizio con Giacomo Leopardi - the one I mentioned before, written by Ranieri on his time with Leopardi

[imaginespazzi]

Part 13: If You Stay

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

And I find it bittersweet (cause you gave me something to lose)

(In which, an all over the place writer, writes an all over the place chapter)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst with some Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 13.1K

TW: Swearing, Slightly Suggestive Content, Mentions of Divorce, Drinking

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 So clearly that 48 to 72 hours deadline completely evaded me but here I am! I've always gotten asks about how many chapters GH will be and normally it's an estimate but I can almost for certain say that after this one, there will be two more chapters. This part is, like I said, a little all over the place as I start to tie in loose ends and bring everything together but it's pretty important as we start our journey to the end. This isn't particularly well-edited because as well know I hate editing but I eventually will go back and edit so any typos/errors you see are much-appreciated. As always, your live reacts give me life, so let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely weekend my loves <3

May 2033

Paige wakes up alone to an empty bed. Her eyes open to the feel of her fingers reaching out and finding nothing but the soft material of her crinkled bedsheets. She stares at the empty space, gaze fixated on the way the sunlight hits the exact spot Azzi had been curled up in and lets her mind wander back to yesterday -god everything had been fine just 24 hours ago- when the rays of sunshine coming through the window had cast lines of gold across the brunette’s face. It wasn’t often that Paige woke up before Azzi, but for some reason she had yesterday. Maybe it was the universe’s way of giving her one last chance to memorize an image that she’s not sure when she’ll be able to see again. Paige traces her hands along the linen, blinking back tears, and she swears she can still feel the heat of Stephie and Azzi’s bodies radiating off of it. It’s unfair, she knows, to expect them to have stayed when it’s the one thing she herself can’t commit to doing but still, that awareness does little to dull the ache reverberating through her chest. 

Sighing to herself, Paige shifts onto her back, turning away from the empty space that almost feels taunting. She gives herself a minute, taking deep breaths to chase away the erraticness in her heartbeat and the moisture in her eyes before finally sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Her eyebrows knit together when she notices the bag in the corner -the pink duffel Azzi had packed for last night- and she almost gasps. It wasn’t like Azzi to forget her stuff, even when escaping. And then she hears it, the familiar giggles of a little girl echoing from her kitchen and Paige feels her heart break and fix itself at the same time. 

They’d stayed. 

Paige flings the covers off of herself, making it from the guest bedroom to the stairs in record time. She almost slips on the fifth step as she races down the stairs, every part of her alight with the need to just see Stephie and Azzi. Her feet skid to a halt before the kitchen doorway and her breath catches in her lungs, hand immediately clutching at her chest as she takes in the scene in front of her. It’s the three most important people of her life gathered around the kitchen counter. Azzi’s flipping pancakes, a soft grin on her face as she listens to Drew and Stephie -both of them already with a stack of pancakes on their respective plates- who are animatedly arguing about whether banana or chocolate chips go better with pancakes. 

“Come on Uncle Drew,” Stephie drawls, “choc-chips are the best-est-est-est and ‘nanas are boooooring.”

“Bananas are not boring,” Drew counters, his voice filled with dramatic offense, “you can mash them in the pancake or eat them on the side or on top of the stack. Bananas are versatile.”

Stephie scrunches her nose and Paige smiles as the little girl gives her brother a pointed look, “I don’t know what vers-a-tile means so that doesn’t even matter to me.”

Azzi snorts, “I don’t think that’s how that works Stephie-bean.”

“Does too,” Stephie pouts and then juts her fork out at Drew, “here Uncle Drew, try it and you’ll see choc-chips are so much better than that,” she looks disdainfully at the young man’s plate. 

Drew dutifully accepts the bite of food, chewing it at an exaggeratedly slow pace as he pretends to contemplate how he feels about it. 

“I mean it’s not bad,” he says finally, before a smirk breaks out on his lips, “but banana’s clear.”

“Nah, I don’t know about that,” Paige says, finally making her presence known as she walks over to Stephie’s side, “You’re both wrong. Blueberries are better with pancakes than both bananas and chocolate chips,” she reaches out to ruffle Stephie’s hair, smile faltering when the little girl dodges her hand, “Steph-”

“Mama,” gone is the happy child that had been casually bantering with Drew; Stephie’s face is ashen with the remnants of her emotions from last night as shift herself as far away from Paige as possible, “I wanna go home.”

Her words feel like a sword, pricking against the bubble of delusion Paige had created mere seconds ago; the wishful thought that maybe they could ignore what had happened last night, that they could just close the lid on the jar of darkness they’d opened and pretend the obsidian hadn’t slipped out, clouding the paradise they’d built before. And maybe that’s Paige’s problem. Avoidance. She’d pushed herself towards Stephie and Azzi, acting like there wasn’t a harness -bound together with the ropes of all the grievances, all the fears, that the past had left in her- and now she was stuck, so close to reaching them but unable to finally get there. 

Azzi’s eyes flicker conflictedly between Paige’s ashen face and Stephie’s stormy one, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, “you’ve still got some more left on your plate Stephie-bean,”

“I don’t want the rest,” Stephie says adamantly, pushing the plate away from her, “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Stephie we don’t waste food,” Azzi says it like it’s a reprimand but Paige knows it’s for her sake, to give her more time with Stephie, and a mix of guilt and gratefulness pools in her stomach as fights the urge to pull the younger woman into her arms and kiss away the stress lines that have formed on her forehead in the last 24 hours. 

“Then pack it and we can take it home,” Stephie slides off the counter, tiny arms crossing over her chest as she looks at her mother with pleading eyes, “please Mama, I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“Stephie-” Paige tries to say, reaching out once again for the little girl. 

“Excuse me Coach Bueckers,” Stephie sidesteps the older woman, her voice far colder than a little girl’s voice should -far colder than anything she’s ever used with her Miss Buecks- and it feels like shards of ice prodding against Paige’s heart. 

“Stephie please-”

The little girl refuses to meet her gaze but Paige notices the way her eyes glance towards her for the briefest moment, like she wants nothing more than to turn around and fling herself at the older woman. But the look is gone as quick as it came and Stephie’s face hardens -and Paige hates herself for being the reason why- as she looks at her mother. 

“Please can we go home now Mama?” 

Azzi sighs, “yeah bean, we can go home. Unless-” she hesitates, eyes locking with Paige’s, “unless- maybe Miss Buecks has a reason we should stay?”

And Paige knows this is Azzi giving her one last chance, one last opportunity to say the right things, to keep Stephie and Azzi with her. It’s why she hadn’t left this morning; she’d been waiting to see if Paige was ready. And all Paige has to do is open her mouth and make the promises that she couldn’t last night; shut the door on her escape plan -to New York and the Liberty- and she can open the one that leads to her perfect dream; that leads to a forever with Stephie and Azzi. But that’s the thing; what if forever doesn’t last? After all, the last time she’d trusted in it -trusted the same woman in front of her to be hers always- forever had turned out to be a myth. But Paige isn’t ready. And so she averts Azzi’s gaze, keeps her mouth shut and looks away before she can see the hope disappear from the brunette’s face. 

“Right,” Azzi swallows, “alright then uh -you’re right Stephie- we should- we should go home. You go wash your face and uh- Mama’s gonna go grab our stuff and then- then we can go.”

The last words make an indiscernible noise creak out of Paige’s lips as she watches Stephie make her way towards the bathroom. Azzi carefully flips the final pancake onto a plate -one with a stack of blueberry pancakes- before turning the stove off and beelining for the stairs towards the guest room. But Paige is quicker, curling her fingers around the younger woman’s wrist to keep her in place. 

“Az,” she breathes out, unsure what to say- unsure what she even wants to say.

Azzi doesn’t look at her, “I ordered groceries.”

“What?”

“You didn’t have any food and I- I wanted to make pancakes,” Azzi explains, “but uh- I got more than just pancake stuff. There’s eggs and milk and that stupid cereal that you like and just- just basic groceries you know. And I know you don’t like veggies but I had to get some because they’re good for you Paige okay but don’t- don’t worry- I balanced it out with all those ridiculously unhealthy snacks you like.”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice cracks, “you didn’t have to-”

“I did,” Azzi cuts her off, “you just- you can’t live off of fucking takeout okay,” a lone tear slides down her cheek, “and I got- I got enough groceries to last you two weeks but you- you’ll have to get more eventually if-” she stops herself but they both know where that sentences was going. 

If you’re gonna live here- if you’re gonna live by yourself. 

“I just-” Paige struggles to get the words out, “I need some more time.”

“I know,” Azzi finally looks at her and for a second Paige almost wishes she hadn’t because the hurt -the please just say you’ll stay- swimming in the younger woman’s eyes is almost too much to bear, “I know you need time and you- you can have it,” she brushes her thumb against Paige’s waterline, “but you can’t have both. You can’t have time and us.”

Why not, Paige wants to scream, wants to stomp her feet like a petulant toddler but she knows Azzi’s right, knows that they have to be apart until she figures it out. And so she nods at the brunette’s words as Azzi gently caresses her cheek -fingers lingering just a little longer than they should- before she rushes upstairs to grab her and Stephie’s overnight bag. 

Paige watches her go before she disappears out of sight, and the blonde falls back against the counter. Closing her eyes as she takes in a couple of deep breaths, she swears the air has never felt more acidic. She can feel Drew looking at her; can almost see the contemplative -maybe even concerned- look in his eyes without opening her own. 

“What?” she bites out, harsher than intended. 

“Nothing,” Drew hesitates, “I just- I didn’t think Azzi would have stayed last night.”

Paige shrugs, eyes still closed, “I asked her to.”

“I figured but I- I guess I didn’t expect her to agree,” Drew says quietly. 

There’s an undercurrent to her brother’s tone that has Paige finally opening her eyes, fixing him with a stern gaze, “what exactly are you trying to say Drew?”

“Nothing,” Drew repeats but the nervous shuffle of his feet say something entirely different. 

“Drew.”

“She stayed Paige,” his voice breaks unexpectedly, “last night, this morning, she- she stayed.”

There’s a beat of silence as Paige stares at her brothers, absorbing his words when the unexpected flash of anger hits, “seriously?”

“What?” Drew’s taken aback by the fire in his sister's eyes. 

“What do you mean what? One fucking stack of pancakes and suddenly all that shit you said to me last night- you don’t believe it anymore? All of that’s forgotten now?”

“That’s not-”

“Jesus fucking christ Drew,” Paige pinches the bridge of her nose and she’s fully aware her anger is misdirected -that it’s herself, she’s mad at- but she continues ranting at her brother anyways, “you made me overthink everything Drew. I was doing fine, we were doing fine and then- then you said all of that shit last night, reminded me of everything and now here we are the next morning and what? You’re not mad at Azzi anymore? She stays one fucking night and all is forgiven? You’ve changed your whole fucking mind-”

“You can’t blame me-” Drew begins to cut her off loudly but then there’s another voice -soft and small- interrupting both of them as they turn to see Stephie staring at them, her expression almost fearful at the sound of them arguing. And Paige hates herself a little bit for putting all these new expressions on the little girl’s face; she misses when she used to be the reason for her smile. 

“That’s- that’s two bad words Miss-” Stephie stops herself, swallowing away the familiar name, “I mean- Coach Bueckers.”

“Sorry Stephie,” Paige whispers, pausing slightly before she takes a nervous step towards the girl, “so does that- does that mean I owe you two kisses?”

Stephie’s face wobbles, her bottom lip trembling as she nods slowly, “yeah you do.”

Paige breathes shakily as she kneels down in front of the little girl, eyes drinking in the sight of having her this close -like they know they might not get this moment again- as she slowly pulls her into her arms. Stephie is warm and soft and familiar and Paige wishes she would never have to let the little girl go. She squeezes her to her chest as she delicately places her lips against Stephies left cheek. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” she whispers against the little girl’s soft skin, hoping the child knows it isn’t just for the swearing before she presses another fluttering kiss against Stephie’s right cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

And then, just as Stephie’s about to pull out of her grasp, Paige stops her, pressing her lips to the little girl’s forehead. When she pulls back, Stephie’s staring at her with a confused look on her face. 

“You only owed me two,” she says matter-of-factly, “what was the last one for?”

Paige gives the little girl a sad smile as she brushes away a strand of curly hair that had gotten loose from her ponytail, “just because you’re my Stephie-bean.”

Stephie stares at her and Paige can see a myriad of emotions flicker behind her tiny eyes. She opens her mouth, like she’s about to say something and Paige’s heart thumps in anticipation, but then the sound of Azzi’s footsteps coming down echoes from the stairs and Stephie pushes away from her. And suddenly, Paige feels empty, like the most vital parts of her are missing. 

“You ready to go Stephie-bean?” Azzi asks, mustering on a brave voice for her daughter but Paige can hear the way it’s cracking, can tell from her red-rimmed eyes that she’d taken a little longer than necessary upstairs to fix herself. 

“Yeah Mama,” Stephie takes her mother’s outstretched hand, “let’s go home.”

The walk through the foyer and outside towards Azzi car feels like it takes hours. Drew doesn’t come all the way, stopping at the front door and giving Stephie a quick high-five that draws a brief smile from the little girl. He doesn’t say anything to Azzi but there’s an underlying softness in the way he tips his head towards her as they nod at each other. And then it’s just the three of them and Paige swears they’re all walking just a little bit slower than they normally do, like they’re trying to savor this moment just a little longer and prolong the inevitable. 

She leans against the side of the car as Azzi buckles Stephie into her carseat. The little girl keeps on her brave face, avoiding eye contact with both Paige and her mother as she focuses firmly in front of her. When Azzi closes the backdoor, Stephie’s face disappearing behind the tinted windows, Paige wants to scream. Everything in her feels like it’s burning and freezing at the same time. 

Azzi hesitates as she’s about to get into the driver’s seat, biting her lip as she turns back towards Paige. 

“You should know that I - that Stephie and I- we-” she pauses, like she’s scared to say the rest of it, “we want you- we want you forever Paige,” both of them suck in a deep breath as the confession looms in the air above them, “and I know you need time and you should take it,” Azzi says softly, her hand reaching almost halfway to caress Paige’s cheek before falling forlornly back to her sides, “but we can’t- we won’t wait forever.”

*** 

August 2031 

Paige is normally a big fan of All-Star weekend; she relishes the chaos of the weekend, getting the opportunity to connect with her fellow peers in a way that wasn’t possible during the rest of the season and just didn’t quite happen at this level outside of it.  But she’s definitely not a fan of it this year, considering it’s being held in her team’s city, in Dallas. Six years later and still, something about this city doesn’t quite feel right, doesn’t feel quite like a place she can call home. 

But still, at least it had given her the chance to not have to be in her apartment this weekend. Unlike her teammates who were more than comfortable staying in their respective homes, Paige had taken up the WNBA’s offer to stay where the rest of the non-Wings players were staying. It’s ironic that the sterile walls of an unfamiliar hotel somehow feel more comforting than a home that’s supposed to be hers. Except, the apartment -the one she’d moved into after the divorce after giving Oliva their house in an act of goodwill- feels cold and empty and Paige has done little to rectify it. She pretends it’s because she’s too busy, that she’ll get to hanging up the picture frames and decorating the walls eventually. But there’s a part of her that knows she’s likely just stalling the inevitable, that the apartment is as temporary as it gets until she finally lets herself make the decision to to leave Dallas. 

The quiet ding of the elevator opening has Paige sighing as she shakes her mind of that daunting thought. It’s why she’d rushed out of her room in the first place, not wanting to be trapped with herself for longer than necessary. The silence has become her worst enemy, enhancing the loneliness that she’s felt ever since the divorce- maybe even longer. 

Divorce. 

God she hates that word, has hated it since her parents had sat her down and said they were getting one. She’d always told herself she wouldn’t become another divorce statistic like them but clearly history liked repeating itself. And the worst part of it, Paige thinks, is that she doesn’t regret the divorce -thinks it might be one of the only right decisions she’s made in the last six years- but maybe she regrets that marriage, regrets selling Olivia a dream, she’d subconsciously always known she wouldn’t be able to fulfill. 

Thinking of Olivia makes Paige feel awful. She hadn’t done anything outrightly wrong to the other woman, never raised her voice or said anything untoward and she’d definitely never cheated. Well, not physically at least. But she’d gotten married to the reporter for all the wrong reasons, trying to fit a puzzle piece that had all the wrong edges into the jigsaw of her life even though she’d known the empty space in her heart could only be filled by one person. For her part, Olivia had been just as good at pretending as Paige was, acting like she couldn’t see the cracks in their relationship or the water that was seeping in through them. 

And then something shifted -maybe the water had finally gone over their head- and just like she���d been the one to bring up the idea of getting married, Olivia was the one who had filed for divorce. And Paige thinks maybe the worst thing she ever did to Olivia, is the way she didn’t fight it once. She remembers the hesitation in her ex-wife’s eyes, remembers the slight pleading look on her face as if she wanted Paige to at least resist it a little bit. But she hadn’t; she’d simply nodded and signed. That was the end of the Olivia, Paige knew and from then on the sweet, bubbly, slightly over-enthusiastic reporter who’d stumbled over her question at Paige’s first media availability transformed into a cold ex-wife who could keep up a charade of cordiality for appearances, but never refrained from a cutting jab here and there. 

The elevator dings open and Paige steps into the lobby, straightening her hoodie a little bit as she scans the area for familiar faces. Finding no one she’s particularly interested in talking to, she’d just about to head to the bar when her eyes land on a little girl nervously bouncing on her feet next to a vase of flowers that’s almost double her height. She can’t be older than three years old and Paige can tell from the way her bottom lip is trembling, that the young child is doing her absolute best to hold in tears. Something constricts in her heart -something almost more than just empathy for the little girl- as Paige makes her way over. 

Gently, trying not to scare the girl, Paige kneels in front of her, “hey sweetheart.”

When the little girl turns to look at her, familiar dark brown doey eyes filled with unshed tears, her breath hitches in her throat and Paige suddenly realizes why she’d felt that tug in her heart. This is Azzi’s kid. 

“H-hi,” the little girl manages to splutter, playing with her fingers as she regards Paige with a way expression, clearly trying to discern whether she’s safe or not. 

“Hey,” Paige repeats, smiling reassuringly, “you okay?”

The little girl nods slowly but there must something about the warmth in Paige’s smile that she pauses, rebellious teardrops running down her face as she goes from nodding to shaking her head. 

“I-I-I-I- lost,” she wails. 

“Oh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige tries to say, hands instinctively reaching out to run up and down the little girl’s shoulders. 

“I was- I was ‘posed to be with Aunty J but she- she was talking and I saw pu-ple flow-es,” she points to the vase through her tears, “so I came to see but then- but then- I look back and Aunty J no there anymore and I want- I want my Mama,” she heaves, fully sobbing now, “I want my Mama.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, shhh,” Paige comforts the little girl as she stands back up, lacing her own fingers through her tinier ones, “how about we go and try to find your Mama?”

She’s about to turn around when feels a tug on her hand and when she looks down, the young child is shaking her head, adamantly planting her feet firmly on the floor. 

“We can’t go,” she says firmly, “Mama says if I get lost, I stay where I am and Mama will find me. And-,” she hesitates as she looks Paige up and down, “Mama says I don’t go anywhere with a st-anger.”

It shouldn’t sting -because that’s what Paige is, a stranger- but it’s an unsettling reminder that this is a world like nothing she’d ever imagined when she was younger, a world where Azzi’s daughter doesn’t know her. 

“So we can’t go. We have to stay here and Mama will find me,” the little girl says again and despite the tears still swimming in her eyes, there’s complete confidence -trust- in her voice that her mother -that Azzi- will find her. 

“Okay,” Paige agrees softly, “but is it okay if I wait with you?”

Azzi’s daughter looks at her with a contemplative look for a couple of seconds before a bright grin explodes on her face and Paige thinks it feels a little bit like a ray of sunshine bombarding into her otherwise cloudy world. 

“Okay,” the little girl grins happily before holding out a tiny hand, “I’m Stephanie Katarina Fudd.”

Paige laughs at the formality as she shakes Stephanie’s hand, “I’m Paige Madison Bueckers.”

“Nice to meet you Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chirps as smiles up at the woman. 

“It’s Bueckers,” Paige tries to correct as Stephanie scrunches up her nose. 

“That’s what I said,” she says with a confused look on her face, “Miss Buecks.”

Paige opens her mouth to try and correct her again but stops, deciding she’s not about to argue with the little girl and that she quite likes the incorrect way Stephanie says her name.  Instead she lets herself fall to the ground, leaning against the pillar as she stretches out her legs in front of her. Stephanie raises an eyebrow at the actions but eventually sits down next to her and Paige smiles. They sit in silence for a bit as Paige reaches for her phone, considering texting Azzi for a brief second before she eventually decides to text Jana -who she thinks might just be Stephanie’s Aunty J- instead to let Azzi know Stephanie was with her. 

“I know you,” Stephanie says suddenly and Paige looks away from the phone to see the little girl’s eyes wide with recognition. 

“I thought you said I was a stranger,” Paige cocks a teasing eyebrow. 

“You are,” Stephanie says matter-of-factly, “but I seen you at Mama’s game sometimes.”

“I’ve seen you too,” Paige admits. 

“You’re good at bask-ball,” Stephanie states and the thing is, Paige has heard and read so many people say she’s great at basketball but there’s something about the way Stephanie says it -something about the genuine innocence of it- that makes her beam with pride. 

“I guess I am,” she bumps Stephanie’s shoulder as she winks at her. 

“I love bask-ball,” Stephaniee’s eyes gleam as she says it and Paige knows that expression -knows that slight look of madness that’s just the beginning of falling in love with a sport. 

“Yeah?” she asks casually, “you play ball?”

Stephanie nods enthusiastically, “Mama got me a hoop for Ch-istmas -just like the one she had when she littler- and she p-omised that when I’m bigger, she’s gonna lemme go bask-ball camp.”

It’s hard not to grin along with Stephanie’s ranting, especially not when her determination to play basketball -one that reminds Paige a lot of herself- shines through her words. 

“You any good,” Paige teases, biting back a laugh when the little girl’s face contorts in offense, like she can’t even believe someone would have the audacity to question her basketball skills. 

“Of course I am. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter,” Stephanie says proudly, blissfully unaware of the way Paige's smile wobbles for a second at the statement, “but Mama says one day, I’mma be even gooder than her.”

“Can I get your autograph now then?” 

Stephanie scrunches her nose, “what’s an au-to-gra-ph?”

“Wait,” Paige stands up, on a mission to find a pen, but Stephanie immediately grabs her hand. 

The little girl’s eyes are wide with anxiety as she looks up at Paige, “no Miss Buecks don’t leave me.”

“Oh sweetheart I’m not,” Paige crouches back down in front of Stephanie, thumbs reaching out to rub the little girl’s cheeks in reassurance, “I’m gonna go right there to get something,” she points to the the reception desk, “I’ll be back in one minutes. I swear.”

“Pinky p-omise?” Stephanie raises her pinky and Paige diligently intertwines her own around it. 

“Pinky promise,” she says, before practically skipping over to where she’d spotted a cup-holder full of pens. She can feel Stephanie’s anxious eyes piercing into the back of her head and if possible, the smile she’s had on her face since meeting the little girl, somehow deepens. It’s dangerous, she knows, becoming so enamored with Azzi’s daughter but her heart has always moved faster than her head, and Paige still hasn’t quite figured out how to stop that. 

“You’re back,” Stephanie claps happily when Paige comes back to her and the blonde beams at the affection in her voice. 

“Told you I would be,” Paige grins as she plops back down next to the little girl, holding out the pen she’d found. 

“Why you get pen?” Stephanie asks, staring at it like it’s a foreign object. 

“Because you need a pen to give me your autograph,” Paige explains, “an autograph is when someone famous signs their name on something for someone,” she holds out her arm that is currently covered by a grey hoodie, “will you sign my hoodie?”

“Silly Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chides, “You and Mama are famous. I’m not famous.”

“Not yet. But if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, Stephanie Katarina Fudd, you are gonna be so famous. Just like me and your Mama,” Paige taps the little girl’s nose, releasing the giggle it elicits from her and she thinks it might be her new favorite sound, “and I wanna be the first person who gets your autograph.”

“Can I get yours too?” Stephanie asks, her tone a little shy and Paige thinks that forget an autograph, she’d give her the world if she’d asked for it. 

“Of course you can bean,” the nickname slips out before she can catch it and Paige’s mind travels back to her wedding day, back to the phone-call with Azzi. 

“Mama calls me bean too,” Stephanie says, as she begins to messily try and write her name on the sleeve of Paige’s hoodie, “she calls me Stephie-bean.”

As if on cue, Azzi’s voice fills the air, tinged with a slight bit of panic and Paige feels her heart catch in her throat. Six years they’ve been apart, something always thrums in her every time she feels Azzi’s presence near her. But it feels almost electric this time. The memories of the last time they’d seen each other, the night they’d spent together after this year’s National Championship game linger in the air and Paige shivers like she can still feels the softness of Azzi’s skin underneath her fingertips; can still hear the breathlessness of her moans in her hears. 

“Stephie-bean,” Azzi calls out and Stephanie���s eyes dart towards her mother’s voice as she immediately stands up, little feet tripping over each other as she rushes to get to the younger woman. 

“MAMA,” Stephanie yells, flinging herself into her mother’s arms and Paige watches as Azzi cradles the little girl to her chest, kissing all over her face. Something pangs in her chest, and she wishes she were a part of that embrace too. And if all the dreams they’d dreamt together when they were younger had come true, she would’ve been.

“Stephie what have I said about running off,” Azzi scolds as she coaxes the little girl's face out of her neck. 

“I din-t run off,” Stephanie defends petulantly, “I go to look at pu-ple flow-es cause they looked so pretty but then when I turned around, Aunty J gone,’ her face wobbles at the memory, “I was so scay-ed Mama cause I lost and ‘lone but then,” her voice changes immediately as she turns around to point at Paige, who freezes when Azzi’s gaze lands on her, “Miss Buecks find me!”

“Miss Buecks,” Azzi repeats dazedly as Stephanie begins to pull her towards Paige, unaware of the anxious tension between the two adults. 

“This is Miss Buecks,” Stephahnie introduces the two of them, “she find me and she tol’ me she help me find you but I say that Stephie can’t move cause Stephie have to stay right here cause Mama says if Stephie lost, Stephie don’t move,” the little girl says animatedly and both adults laugh at the random switch to third-person, “but Miss Buckes say she’ll stay with me and so I not ‘care anymore cause I have Miss Buecks,” she says casually, naive to the way it makes both Paige and Azzi swallows, “and look Mama,” she eagerly grabs Paige’s sleeve, “I give Miss Buecks my auto-gaph.”

“That’s, that’s lovely sweetheart,” Azzi says softly before she turns to Paige -and Paige wonders if it’ll ever stop, if the way her stomach swoons every time the brunette looks at her will ever go away-, “thank you for texting Jana and thank you- thank you for staying with her.”

Paige shrugs as casually as she can, “don’t gotta thank me,” she nudges Stephanie, “we had a great time together didn’t we Stephanie?” 

The little girl nods enthusiastically, “the great-est-est-est time,” she exclaims to her mother, “Miss Buecks is so cool.”

“Thanks Stephie-” Paige hesitates, unsure if she has the right to use the nickname, “Stephanie. You’re really cool too.”

Stephanie practically glows at the compliment, “Mama, Miss Buecks thinks I’m cool and- and- and- she say that I’m gonna be famous one day. That’s why she wanted my auto-gaph. Cause I’mma be a big bask-ball star just like you two.”

Azzi ruffles the little girl’s hair before looking at Paige with an indiscernible expression, “just like us huh?”

“Maybe even better,” Paige says softly. 

“I guess we’ll find out,” Azzi grins before leaning down to pick her daughter up -the sight of it invoking something warm and fuzzy in Paige’s stomach- “alright Stephie-bean, say bye to Miss Buecks. We gotta go get ready the orange carpet and I gotta go yell at your Aunty J for losing you again,” she winks at Paige who lets out a laugh. 

And she hasn’t laughed like this -laughed as much as she has in these last few minutes with Stephanie- in so long that she’d almost forgotten what it sounded like. 

“Bye Miss Buecks,” Stephanie waves over her mother’s shoulder. 

“Bye Stephanie,” Paige waves before hesitating for a second, and then she calls out, “hey Azzi?”

Azzi turns around slightly, humming in response, “what’s up?”

“I like that you call her Stephie-bean,” Paige admits nervously, hoping Azzi will understand what she means and by the way the brunette’s eyes soften, it’s clear she does. 

“It just felt right,” Azzi says softly; her mouth opens like she wants to say more -something more than what their current colleague-esque relationship allows for- but in the end, she settles on something far more mundane, “see you around Bueckers.”

“See ya,” Paige whispers back and if she stands completely still, watching Stephanie and Azzi walking all the way until they turn a corner and she can’t see them anymore, well that’s nobody’s business but her own. 

That’s the first night Paige lets herself wonder about the possibilities of becoming a Golden State Valkyrie. 

***

June 2033 

Dream 64      Valkyries 87

Paige has never had particularly strong feelings towards the Atlanta Dream. They weren’t a particularly bad team, nor were they a particularly great team and Paige had simply never had an experience with them -whether it was a fan of the league or as a player in it- that was worth remembering for her to feel anything towards them. But tonight, tonight Paige fucking hates the Atlanta Dream. 

Okay maybe she doesn’t hate the team. 

She hates a certain player, a certain #11 wearing French player who’d had the audacity to hold her Stephie, to wrap her arms around her Azzi. Paige had spent the first couple of minutes of warm-ups with a deep scowl on her face as she’d watched Clémence interact with her girls. She’d hated the way Stephie grinned at the French woman, hated the way Azzi had laughed at something she’d said. But most of all Paige hated that she hadn’t been able to do any of that -hadn’t been on the receiving end of Stephie’s giggles or Azzi’s warm smile- for almost three weeks now. God she missed them so fucking much. 

It was until Jana had tapped her on the back -a knowing look in her teammate’s eyes- that Paige had finally turned away from the scene. She’d channeled all her anger and frustration into the game, playing as the most aggressive version of herself. And it had paid off in the form of a 31 points, 7 assists, 4 rebounds and 3 stocks game, another statline cementing her position in the rather early race for MVP. But all of that feels futile now as Paige -signing autographs before she had to head off to media- notices Stephie go racing back into Clémence’s arms, the little girl’s face bright with happiness as the French woman catches her and twirls her around. From the corner of her eyes, she notices Azzi walking towards the two of them and Paige normally loves Azzi’s smile -think’s it’s nothing short of being the prettiest sight in the world- but she thinks she might hate it a little bit right now when it’s directed at Clémence. 

“Aunty Chérie,” Stephie’s squeals echo clearly in Paige’s ears, despite the noise of the crowd surround her, “you played so good today.”

“Merci ma chérie,” Clémence's voice is saccharine sweet, “I’m very happy to see you. I have missed you lots. I was thinking,” Paige continues to sign another jersey but her ears are fully tuned into the conversation happening a couple meters away as Clémence’s attention turns towards Azzi, “we are leaving tomorrow morning so I have some time tonight. So I was thinking maybe I could take you and Stephie out to dinner tonight? Unless-” Paige feels both Clemence’s and Azzi’s eyes flicker to herself and she tries to keep her focus on the fans in front of her, “unless perhaps you are going with someone else?”

Paige waits with bated breath for Azzi’s answer, wishing her telepathic plea for the brunette say no, could somehow reach her but it’s Stephie who answers first. 

“Mama please can we go,” the little girl begs immediately -her tone one that Paige knows to be the one she uses when she’s trying to get her mother to agree, “please, please, please. We haven’t gotten dinner with Aunty Chérie in so long.”

“Stephie-” there’s hesitation in Azzi’s voice but Paige knows that she’s likely to cave into her daughter’s wishes -after all Stephie isn’t asking for anything ridiculous- and she knows she has to get away, not wanting to hear anymore about Clémence’s stupid fucking dinner plans. 

Giving the fans in front of her a tight-lipped smile, Paige slowly backs away from them, eyes searching for Joyce -her companion to face the press tonight- as she heads towards the media-room. She’s so focused on looking for her teammate or perhaps she’s too in her head but she doesn’t spot the assistant carrying water bottles coming. The two of them collide with a large crash that rings around Chase Center as the bottles go flying across the court. Paige’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink as she feels the eyes of everyone on her -none more piercing than Azzi’s- but she doesn’t dare turn around. Instead she shoots the assistant an apologetic look, gathering as many water bottles as in front of her, before she’s bolting to the press room, wondering what the fuck she's done for the universe to keep testing her like this.

*** 

Paige is the last person left in the locker room. By the time she and Joyce had returned from the press conference, most of the team had fizzled out. And so she’d taken her time -ignoring the weird look Joyce gave her considering normally they were all eager to get home- showering and getting changed. She’d come out of the shower to a desolate locker room and as she’d sat on the bench, drying her damp hair, she’d let herself succumb to all the thoughts she’d been suppressing. 

It’s somehow worse this time; it hurts more in a way that Paige hadn’t known was possible. They hadn’t been together nearly as long as they were back then and their relationship was barely defined. But at least last time, Paige had been able to run to another side of the country where she wasn’t constantly reminded of her ex. Azzi isn’t even technically an ex this time, but there’s no avoiding her. Not when they’re on the same team, not when she’s a coach at her daughter’s camp.  And Paige doesn’t quite know what’s harder, trying to find oxygen in an air devoid of Azzi and Stephie’s presence, or trying to breathe when they’re near her.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so different. Paige has lost Azzi before and even if that doesn’t make the hurt any less, at least she has a blueprint for how to cope with it. But she doesn’t know how to deal with losing Stephie, doesn’t know how to not miss the little girl’s smile and her big doey eyes and the way she’d used to wrap her arms around Paige like she was trying to bind them together forever. 

But more than anything, more than missing Azzi or Stephie, Paige misses the three of them together. She misses Azzi’s exasperated look when she and Stephie would indulge in some sort of ridiculous drama. She misses the little girl’s mischievous look before she’d launch herself into both of their arms. She misses her own soft smile as she’d watch the two of them engage in the most mundane things. She misses the peaceful silence as they’d eat together and the noisy chaos when they’d argue over what movie to watch afterwards. She misses everything. 

And the worst part is that she knows she wouldn’t be missing any of it, if it wasn’t for the barriers she’s put up herself. This is a cage of Paige’s own making and the key to open the lock rests in her own hands. She just needs to be brave enough to use it. Azzi words run amok in her head, the reassurance that Paige could have time clouded by the reluctant warning that eventually that time would run out. 

“Hey,” she snaps herself out of her thoughts to see Azzi cautiously entering the locker room, her playing jersey swapped from a casual green top and cargo pants. 

Paige swallows, “hi.”

“I uh- I was um-” Azzi’s eyes nervously dart around the room as she strides over to her locker, picking up the pink lipgloss -one Paige has the taste of memorized- that’s sitting on the bench under it, “I forgot this so I uh- I came back to grab it.”

“Cool,” Paige replies monotonously but her head’s already racing with thoughts of will you let her kiss it off of you the way you let me? And she knows -she trusts- that Azzi won’t but even the possibility of it lights a small fire within her. 

Azzi chews on her lips as she nods, before starting to walk towards the door but she stops last second, turning around with the starts of a smile on her lips, “you were amazing tonight P. I mean you have been since the season started but tonight especially, you were just- you were you. You were awesome.”

Paige absorbs the compliments, tries to use it to douse the simmering jealousy that’s flaming up within her at the knowledge that once Azzi leaves this locker room, she’s likely going with Clémence. 

“Thanks,” the blonde manages to get out and it’s a little short and rather icy but Paige thinks it’s probably better than saying all the other things that are on the tip of her tongue. 

Azzi’s face dims at the curt reply, smile faltering as she nods, “anytime, P.”

That should be it. Paige should let her go, should be content with this small interaction that’s the most she’s gotten from outside of practice in weeks. But then the bitter words are waterfalling from her lips faster than she can stop them and despite the regret she feels immediately after, there’s a part of her that’s relieved when it makes Azzi come to a halt right in front of the door. 

“Your girl played well too,” she bites out, the acidic words burning her tongue. 

Azzi doesn’t turn around but Paige notices the way her shoulders go rigid, “don’t do this Paige. You know she’s not my girl.”

Paige ignores her, “11 points, 2 rebounds, 1 assist. Not bad numbers. Decent. But not better than yours of course.”

“Paige,” there's a warning note in Azzi’s voice, like she knows exactly where Paige is going with this.

“I’m just saying, “ Paige shrugs with a casualness that’s in stark contrast to the tension lingering in the air, “she’s a decent player. But you’d never be in her shadow. Never be known as just her anything.”

Azzi turns around slowly and Paige feels her anger dissipate as quickly as it had erupted when she takes in the way the brunette’s eyes are brimming with tears. 

“Seriously?” Azzi grits out, “you’re seriously gonna throw that in my face right now?”

“I’m not throwing anything in your face. I’m stating a fact-”

“Oh bullshit-”

“It’s not bullshit,” Paige yells before she sucks in a sharp breath, closing her eyes to calm herself down before she continues, “it’s not bullshit,” she repeats, “it is a fact and that fact is the reason why we’re here right now.”

“What do you mean?” Azzi crosses her arms across her body. 

“Nine years ago you said no-”

“Oh my god,” Azzi says exasperatedly, “we can’t keep going over this again.”

“We have to Azzi,” Paige cuts her off, “we have to because you said no. And you broke my heart and you broke my trust. And that’s why we’re here right now. That’s why I made the deal with the Liberty and that’s why I can’t let of my escape plan and that’s why I can’t promise to stay and that’s why we have to keep going over it. Because I’m trying, “her voice cracks as the first tear slides down, “god Azzi- I’m trying so fucking hard baby but how do I know you won’t say no me -to us- again?”

Azzi stares at her with an undecipherable expression, her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides. It feels like an eternity passes in between them as they look at each other, breathing heavily almost in sync, until the brunette finally speaks. 

“Well how do I know you won’t leave again?”

Paige blinks in confusion, “excuse me?”

“You keep accusing me of all of these things Paige but you’re the one that keeps leaving,” Azzi says and they both know she isn’t just talking about nine years ago, “I know- I know I made a mistake. But when I said no all I asked for was a little bit of time. That’s all I asked for Paige. Time. Just like you’re asking for right now. And I know- I know we said a whole lot of shit that night -I said a bunch of fucking things I shouldn’t have- but- god Paige you didn’t even give it a day. I came to find you less than 24 hours later and you were gone,” she chokes on the last word and Paige wants nothing more than to cradle the younger woman in her arms, take away her pain and shield her from ever feeling anything like it again. 

“Az-”

“And if you’d just waited -just given me a little bit of time,” Azzi continues as if she hadn’t even heard the blonde attempt to speak, “then maybe you would have known that I wasn’t saying no forever. Just for a little bit, just for then. But you just- you left.”

“You said a lot more than just no,” Paige says frustratedly. 

It’s Azzi’s turn to look guilty and Paige can almost see the memories of that night flashing in her mind, “I know that but I would’ve taken it all back if you’d just waited.”

“How could I have known that?” Paige whispers and she’s not sure if she’s defending herself from Azzi or from that voice in her head -the one she’d done her best to silence- that’s always wondered if she’d made a mistake immediately leaving for Dallas the morning after. 

“You couldn’t have,” Azzi says softly, sounding almost defeated, “the same way that you don’t know that I won’t say no again. The same way that I don’t know if you’ll leave again,” she sighs as she sits down next to Paige, “but that’s life Paige. We don’t know what’s gonna happen in the future and we can’t- we can’t predict what someone else will do. All we can do is try and trust ourselves and trust each other.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Paige nudges her shoulder and Azzi lets out a short laugh. 

“I know it’s not. Trust me, I know it’s hard. There’s about five hundred different voices in my head saying that I should stop waiting or whatever it is I’m doing right now. That I should let you go for good. That even if you end this whole Liberty bullshit, you’ll still leave me -leave us- eventually.”

“But?” Paige presses and she feels like she’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, like the next words out of Azzi’s mouth will determine whether she falls or flies. 

“But,” Azzi breathes out as she turns to look at Paige with a slightly wistful smile, “there’s this one voice in my head, clearer than all the rest that says I should trust you -that I should believe in us- that maybe we just need to get through this one last hurdle to get back to each other,” the younger woman reaches out to squeeze Paige’s hand gently before she stands up, “I think you just need to find that voice too P.”

“I’m scared Az,” Paige says softly. 

“I am too,” Azzi admits as she leans down to brush the blonde’s tears away with her thumb, “trusting is really fucking scary. I get it. but maybe- maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together.”

Paige shudders when Azzi presses a kiss to her forehead, the brunette's lips lingering long after she’s embedded every unspoken thought into it. She pulls away almost reluctantly, patting Paige’s cheeks lightly before starting to walk back towards the door. 

“Azzi,” the blonde calls out, mouth going a little drying when Azzi turns over her shoulder, “don’t go to dinner with Clémence.” 

Go with me. Let me take you and Stephie out to dinner instead. 

“Don’t hold on to the deal with the Liberty,” Azzi says quietly in lieu of an actual answer, “say you’ll stay.”

Paige falters, “Az I-”

“I already told you P,” there’s a sad smile on Azzi’s face before she turns away, “you can have time or you can have us but you can’t have both. Not right now. 

“Azzi-”

“I hope you find that voice soon Paige and I hope it leads you back to me.”

***

August 2032 

Paige is standing in a corner -a dirty Shirley in her hand- cackling at a joke that Cam had just made when she sees her entering and the laughter dies in her throat. Cam notices the change immediately, her eyes tracking Paige’s gaze until they land on the brunette who’s being pulled into a series of congratulatory hugs by players from other countries. 

“So where did y’all go last night?” the LA Sparks center asks casually 

“What?” Paige asks distractedly, her eyes narrowing when she notices a familiar French player inching towards the door for a hug of her own. 

“You and Azzi,” Cam clarifies and Paige swallows at the mention of her name, “y’all disappeared while we were all still celebrating. Lowkey felt like we were back in Belarus all over again when y’all just kept going off somewhere with each other,” the taller woman shoots Paige a teasing grin, “so where’d you go?”

“Just uh- just needed some air,” Paige bites her lip at the lie. 

Because the truth is that once they’d left the hotel bar, and they’d practically pounced on each other -from the elevator till they’d made it to Paige’s hotel room- they’d barely come up for air. The feeling of each other’s lips and bare skin was more intoxicating than any drink they’d consumed -maybe even more intoxicating than the Olympic Gold medal they’d finally won together earlier that day- and neither of them seemed to care about unimportant matters such as breathing. 

Cam quirks an eyebrow as she sips at her drink, “if you say so Bueckers.”

“I do say so,” Paige retorts before dislodging herself from the wall she’d been leaning against, eyes still tracking every moment Azzi made, “we should- we should go say hi.”

“We should, should we?” Cam smirks but the sweet angel she is, she falls into step easily with Paige as they start walking across the room. 

The banquet hall is buzzing with players dancing and drinking and mingling with each other. Now that the basketball portion of the Olympics was over, they’d all returned from being fierce competitors playing for their country, to being the friendly co-players they all were. Laughter and chatter fills the air as teammates and rivals alike, reconnect at the FIBA-sponsored party that had almost all of the women’s basketball players participating in Bris2032 in attendance. 

“Azziiii,” Cam squeals as the two of them finally reach the Valkyries superstar who’d just finished hugging Gabby. 

Azzi grins when she sees Cam but it slips a little when she notices Paige next to her. She’s quick to fix it, eyes going back to Cam as she pulls the taller woman into a hug. Something pinches against Paige’s heart and she forces herself to look away; her gaze landing instead on where Gabby has walked away from the three of them to slip an arm around Marine’s waist. Paige stares wistfully at the scene -at the way Marine relaxes into Gabby’s touch as she continues whatever conversation she’d been involved in. It’s all she wants and instinctively, her eyes wander back to Azzi. 

“Hey,” Paige says slowly as Azzi lets go of Cam, disappointment coursing through her veins when all she gets is a nod of acknowledgement.

“So Azzi I was just asking Paige here, where y’all disappeared to last night?” Cam asks with a teasing tone. 

Azzi blanches as the question, “oh um- I- uh I wanted to go check in on Stephie.”

“And you needed Paige to come with you for that?” 

A distinctly pink hue begins at the base of Azzi’s neck, climbing up until it tints her cheeks, “I was a little tipsy and uh- just wanted the support I guess.”

Paige almost snorts at the response. Azzi had been way beyond tipsy and Paige wouldn’t have been any support, considering she’d been maybe two drinks away from blacking out. But she supposes, Cam probably doesn’t need to know that and she definitely doesn’t need to know what it had led to. 

“Interesting,” the taller blonde looks between the two women as she takes another sip of her drink, “Paige just said y’all needed some air.”

“I mean that- that was definitely a part of it too. The bar was getting pretty hot-” this time Paige does snort at Azzi’s answer which gets her an amused look from Cam and a very unamused look from the brunette herself. 

Cam puts her hands up in surrender, “listen if Paige says y’all needed air and if you say you needed to go see Stephie, I believe you,” she says but that cheeky grin on her face says the exact opposite. 

“Speaking of Stephie. It’s uh- it’s almost her bedtime and I should uh- I should call my Mom so I can say goodnight,” Azzi manages a tightlipped smile towards the two other women before she disappears into the crowd, heading towards the balcony. 

Paige hesitates for a second before she turns to face Cam and that shit-eating, knowing smirk on her friend’s face almost has her giving into her pride and swallowing the words she’s about to say. Almost. 

“I’m uh- I’mma go to,” she stumbles out. 

“Oh of course,” Cam grins sly, “bet Azzi needs some more support huh?”

Paige shakes her head, flashing Cam her middle finger -and rolling her eyes when it causes the taller woman to laugh- as she follows after Azzi. The chill Brisbane air swarms around her as she steps out into the balcony. Azzi’s standing right by the railing, her phone held right above her as she facetimes her daughter. Paige catches on quickly to the conversation, realizing that the little girl is telling her mother about how Tim had let her have ice-cream after dinner. 

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” Paige hears Tim’s voice echo through the phone as Stephanie’s eyes go wide on the screen, “I thought it was gonna be our little secret?”

She holds in a laugh, leaning back against the door, as the little girl splutters trying to justify her tattle-taling, “it’s Mama, Pops. I can’t hide things from my Mama.”

Tim scoffs but there’s no genuine irritation to it, “that’s the last time I give you ice-cream.”

Stephanie shoots him an unimpressed look, “you say that all the time Pops and then you give me ice-cream anyways.”

“She’s got you there,” Katie choruses from the back and Paige watches as she high-five her grand-daughter. 

And she doesn’t quite know what that pang in her chest means, but she’s felt it every time she’s seen Stephani and the Fudds over the course of the Olympics. The Fudds had come to Brisbane -of course they had- and every time Paige caught sight of them in the stands or watched them from the corner of her eyes, it felt like something was stinging against her rib cage. They’d all had custom #35 Azzi jerseys and their cheers were louder than every other voice in the arena any time Team USA did anything and after each win, they’d been the first people down the stairs, ready to hug envelope Azzi in a hug. At the forefront of it was Stephanie, who’d ran into her mother’s arms at lightning quick speed and Paige had watched -hoping she was being at least somewhat conspicuous- as Azzi had spun the little girl around. 

It wasn’t that the Fudds ignored Paige. In fact they’d made it a point to come over to her right after to wrap her up amidst themselves. Stephanie had come over too, her smile shy as she’d congratulated Paige on the wins. The little girl clearly didn’t quite remember their interaction from all-star last year -her eyes regarding Paige almost like a stranger- and the blonde consoles herself with the fact that Stephanie’s only four. Four year olds weren’t known for remembering things that had happened when they were three. Still, it hurt a little bit considering Paige thinks of that interaction more than she probably should.  

But even though she’d still gotten the hugs and the smiles and the congratulations, it wasn’t quite the same, wasn’t anything like she’d picture during the conversations of we’ll get customized 5+35 Bueckers-Fudd jerseys for the Olympics she’d once had with Tim and Katie. 

“Alright Stephie-Bean, Mama’s gonna head back into the party-” Paige refocuses on the conversation just in time to hear Azzi get cut off by her rather dramatic daughter.

“I can’t bel-ieve you went to another party without me Mama,” Stephanie drags out the words, “no Mama-good-night-kisses cause she pick party-time over Stephie time.”

The little girl’s joking but Paige can tell by the way it makes Azzi pause for a second -her shoulder stiffening just a little bit- that it’s hit a nerve. She wants to soothe it away, wants to wrap her arms around her from behind, hitch her chin over her neck and take away all of Azzi’s worries. And that bitter thought -the one that seems to surface every time her heart beats a little faster for the brunette, the one that had filled her head when she’d woken up next to the younger woman earlier this morning- takes birth in her head again. The thought she could have done all of that -would have the right to do it- if only Azzi had just said yes.

“I’ll make it up to you Stephie-bean,” she hears Azzi promise, “tomorrow, just you and me okay sweetheart? All of my time’s gonna be yours.”

Stephanie’s face immediately brightens up, “okay Mama,” she says happily as she blows a kiss to the screen, “love you Mama. Good night.”

“Good night sweet girl. I love you more,” Azzi choruses back, waving at the screen before she cuts the call. 

It takes her a moment to turn around and Paige watches as Azzi takes in a deep breath, a subtle smile on her face as she takes in the Brisbane skyline. When she does finally turn around, surprise filters onto her expression at seeing the blonde standing there. 

“Hey,” Paige whispers nervously, stuffing her hands into the pocket of her pants. 

Azzi looks at her for a moment, “hi.”

They stand there rigidly, letting the tension -a completely different kind than the one that had encompassed them last night- simmer between them. It’s almost like they're daring each other to say something, to address the elephant in the room. 

Azzi breaks first, “something you wanted to say?”

“Just wanted some air,” Paige says, cringing a little bit at the cliché line that she’s now used twice in one night. 

“Right,” Azzi nods, moving towards the door, “guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Her voice is tinged with an iciness that sets Paige on edge. They haven’t been like this in a while and she’d thought they’d let go of the resentful exes gimmick they’d had going on for the first couple of years. But the hardness in Azzi’s tone suggests that it’s back with vengeance tonight. 

“Az-” Paige calls out. 

“What?” Azzi asks loudly, biting her lip when the harshness of it almost makes the blonde stumble back, “sorry I-”

But before she can apologize, Paige finds herself retaliating with the same hardness in her own tone, “what’s your fucking problem?”

“My problem?” Azzi reels back, eyes flashing with anger, “are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes. That’s clearly what I asked,” Paige retorts. 

Azzi laughs devoid of emotion, “I woke up to an empty bed this morning and you’re asking me what my fucking problem is?”

Guilt inches it’s way up Paige’s spine but it pales in comparison to the anger that flickers in the pit of her stomach, “oh that’s rich coming from you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is that not exactly what you did last time we fucked,” the profanity tastes acetous as it falls through Paige’s lips because it sounds wrong, like she’s insulting the sanctity of their relationship, no matter how broken it might be. 

“No it’s not,” Azzi nostrils flare, “I told you I was leaving. I had the common fucking decency to let you know. I didn’t just sneak out.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “oh spare me the semantics. It’s all the same shit at the end of the day. We both left.”

“Oh fuck you Paige,” Azzi snarls as she tries to leave but Paige is quicker, fingers wrapping around her wrist to stop her. 

And everything she’d been prepared to say dies in her throat because now they’re too close, chests heaving in harmony as their matching glares turn into something else. Paige’s eyes fall to Azzi’s lips, breath hitching when the brunette’s tongue darts out for a second to wet them. She tugs on Azzi’s wrist experimentally, pleased when there’s little hesitation and the younger woman lets herself be pulled closer. The air is electric with want as they lean in slowly, their noses brushing against each other as they wait for each other to make a move, to close the distance. 

But then there’s the sound of someone clearing their throat,  followed by someone else coughing and the two of them spring apart like they’ve been burned.

“Jesus Az, careful!” Jana’s concerned voice makes Paige’s ears perk up and she follows the Egyptians line of sight to see that Azzi had moved back so fast that she’d  fallen back against the balcony railing. 

“I’m fine,” Azzi says hurriedly but the shake in her voice betrays that she’s anything but. 

“Are you?” Paige turns to find Aaliyah watching them with the wary gaze of someone who’s been around them and their bullshit far too long, “because uh- we can hear y’all yelling from inside.”

Azzi’s eyes shoot up, panic evident on her face, “you heard us? Did you- could you hear what we said?”

Paige scoffs loudly, “oh right yeah because that would be really fucking bad wouldn’t be it Azzi? God forbid anyone found out you fucked me.”

And she doesn’t even know why she’s arguing -honestly she’s just as embarrassed at the idea of their teammates and rivals and everyone else in between actually overhearing their argument- but it pinches a nerve and she pointedly looks away from Azzi’s ashen face. 

“You guys fucked?” Paige flinches at how loud Jana is and Aaliyah lets out a low groan. 

“Jana,” the Canadian warns, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Sorry but like,” Jana looks back and forth between Paige and Azzi, dropping her voice, “y’all fucked?”

Paige sighs, feeling drained as she leans back against a pillar for support, “that’s what I said yes.”

If possible, Jana’s eyes get even wider, “so- so what does that mean for the two of you? Are you- are y’all gonna get back together?”

Azzi looks at Paige. 

Paige looks at Azzi. 

And it’s like they’re both imploring each other to answer Jana’s question and to answer it right. 

“It means nothing,” it’s the wrong answer and Paige knows it even before she says it -can tell by the way Azzi barely reacts that she knows Paige doesn’t even really believe herself- but she thinks maybe they’re not quite ready to get it right. Not yet. 

“Well there you go,” Azzi says quietly, shrugging nonchalantly at Jana, “it means nothing.”

Paige flinches at the repetition of her own words, looking away as Azzi starts walking towards the door again. The brunette’s shoulder brushes against the older woman’s -sparks igniting around them- and she hesitates. 

“It means nothing,” Azzi repeats, her voice a longing whisper only meant for Paige’s ears, “but maybe it could’ve meant something. If you’d stayed.”

***

June 2033

Paige is sulking in her room -watching film to distract herself from the images of Clémence, Azzi and Stephie together from last night that her brain is hellbent on conjuring up- when her pity party is broken up by the sound of her doorbell. She has the urge to ignore it, to stay curled up in the same position she’s been in all day. It’s a rather pathetic way to have spent one of her rare days off but it’s the only thing she’d felt like doing. But then whoever’s outside her door starts to press the bell longer and Paige huffs -irritated by the loudness of it- as she forces herself out of bed. 

She’s not sure who she was expecting. Perhaps Jana, who’d caught on rather quickly to what was happening between her two former teammates and had been making somewhat of an attempt to help fix it. Maybe Colleen, here to knock some sense into her on Azzi’s behalf. Or maybe even Tessa, who Paige had learned in the most awkward way, knew about them when the former Gamecock had made a teasing remark about the two of them the next practice, not knowing what had transpired two nights before. When both Paige and Azzi had immediately tensed, instead of blushing or rolling their eyes, Tessa had been perceptive enough to understand something had gone wrong. She’d been trying to help Jana ever since and Paige half expects it to be her at the door with words of wisdom and comfort alike. 

Who she isn’t expecting is Tim Fudd. 

His wife, she would’ve understood. After all Katie had done exactly that before and it was in the older woman’s nature to meddle just a little bit. Her husband, on the other hand, tended to stay as far out of things as possible. He could be a hovering coach and whenever Azzi’s spirits were low, he’d be there with a ridiculous dad joke and arms outstretched for a big bear hug. But when it came to his daughter’s personal life, Tim Fudd did his best not to interfere. 

Tim smiles at Paige when she opens the door, one hand holding up a bottle of whiskey with a grin on his face while his other hand is hidden behind his back. He rolls his eyes fondly when he notices the skeptical look Paige shoots at his liquor of choice before he reveals the premade bottle of dirty Shirley he’s been hiding behind his back. 

“Tsk tsk,” he grins mockingly, “what would the fans say if they knew their big bad rizzler can’t drink anything but a sweet cocktail?”

Paige shakes her head as she steps aside to let the man inside, “just cause I don’t drink cheap whiskey, doesn’t mean I don’t drink anything other than cocktails.”

“Cheap?!” Tim guffaws as the accusation, “I’ll have you know this is a Macallan.”

“You know that hat means nothing to me right,” Paige says as she follows his lead into her kitchen. 

It’s almost foreign having somebody else in her space. Since Drew had left -rather hesitantly after seeing his sister’s condition- the house had been devoid of anyone else but Paige. Jana had tried to invite herself over a couple of times but it had gone in vain when Paige had chosen solitude over any company. It’s not that she particularly wants to be alone, it’s that she thinks -no, she knows- that there’s only two people who can cure this dreadful loneliness that feels like it’s become an innate part of existence. 

“Sit,” Tim says as he rummages through Paige’s cupboards for two glasses. 

Hesitating for a split second, Paige does as she's told, “did Azzi send you?”

“Are you hoping she did?’ Tim asks pointedly as he places two glasses one top of the counter, filling one with whiskey and other with dirty Shirley. 

Paige swallows as she accepts the drink from his hand, “nah,” lies, “ just uh- just feels like something she’d do.”

Tim looks at her for a minute as he takes a sip of his whiskey. 

“She didn’t send me,” he says finally and Paige tries to mask the tinge of disappointment his words send through her by taking a large swig of her shirley. 

“This tastes like shit,” she grimaces, wiping her mouth with the back of hand. 

“That premade stuff usually does. It’s that easy shit you know? The things that just exist without you doing any work. Just doesn’t hit the same as the harder stuff,” Tim says slowly as he leans back against his chair, a clear double meaning in his words. 

“You’re using alcohol as a metaphor? So I guess Katie sent you then?” Paige manages a half-smile but she feels her stomach churn at the implication of what he’d just said. 

Tim laughs, “it was my idea actually.”

“Her meddling rubbing off on you?” Paige quirks an eyebrow. 

Tim shakes his head, “I’m not here to meddle. Just wanted to tell you a story.”

Paige sighs, “so you are here to meddle then.”

Tim ignores her, fiddling with the glass of whiskey in his hands, “did you know Katie and I almost didn’t end up together?”

Paige stares at the older man in shock. Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised; relationships were complicated after all. But for all the years she’d known Tim and Katie, they’d always been just that. TimAndKatie. The epitome of stableness that had stood strong amongst all the other relationships Paige had watched break down one by one.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Tim says lightly when he notices how wide Paige’s eyes have gotten, “everyone makes mistakes. We’re all capable of doing dumb shit that almost makes us lose everything we’ve ever loved.”

Paige gulps, “what- what did you do?”

“I left,” Tim says slowly. 

“You left?” the familiar words make Paige nauseous and she wonders if that slightly regretful look on Azzi’s dad’s face is echoed on her own. 

“It was a couple months into our relationship and Katie and I had a huge fight. It was about her not letting me make a decision about Azzi,” Tim explains and the similarity of the situation almost makes Paige want to block her ears. 

“It was something small, something stupid. Probably nothing that even mattered cause I don’t even remember it. But I remember how I felt. I was really fucking mad but more than anything I think- I think I was scared. Because that argument, it was a remind that even though I loved her so fucking much, Azzi wasn’t mine. Not yet. And that if I lost Katie, I’d lose her too. The idea of losing Katie was scary enough but losing both of them? I didn’t know how to deal with that,” Tim's voice shakes, like he’s relieving his biggest fears and Paige feels her own eyes start to water; his words settling salt in her still-raw open wounds. 

“And it got so heated and we were yelling all this bullshit at each other that eventually I just- I didn’t know what else to do and I just- I started to leave. And Azzi- I guess we were so loud we woke her up- she- she saw me leaving,” there’s an unfamiliar grave look on the normally jovial old man’s face as he reminisces that night, “she ran down the stairs and threw herself at my knees begging me not to go but I- I was so mad and so fucking scared that I walked away anyways.”

“How- how did you fix it?” Paige asks, her voice almost pleading as she wipes away the droplets of water running freely down her cheeks. 

“Well not immediately that’s for sure,” Tim cracks a smile, trying to lighten the mood, “took me a little bit of time to pull my head out of my ass and when I finally did, Katie wasn’t so quick to forgive me for it either. And it wasn’t about her or me or us, it was about Azzi. The first time I showed up, she didn’t even let me in. Said she could only let me through that door again if I could promise to stay. Because Azzi had seen me leave once and she wasn’t gonna let her see it again.”

“It must’ve killed you,” Paige whispers, her stomach twisting in knots, “the guilt of hurting her.”

Tim nods, “it did but I think- or at least I hope I’ve made up for it now.”

“You have,” Paige reaches over to squeeze his arm gently, “how did you get her to forgive you?”

“Simple,” Tim places his own hand over hers as he continues, “we talked it out. I explained all my fears to her. How scared I was of losing her, of losing Azzi. And she- she understood because she was scared too, scared of losing me, scared of Azzi losing me. In the end we were both scared of the same thing but all of that got a whole lot less scary when we faced it together.”

Maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together

“How did you get over it,” Paige asks, almost desperately, “the fear of losing them? How did you move past that?”

Tim smiles wistfully, “time. Not time apart but time together. It wasn’t easy taking that first step, facing that fear but I knew if I wanted them, it was what I was gonna have to do. And I had to trust Katie, that if I stayed, she’d stay.”

“And she stayed,” Paige says softly. 

“Yeah she did,” this time, Tim’s grin breaks through his entire, “and the more time she stayed, the more my trust in her grew until one day I just knew. I knew she wasn’t gonna leave ever again. Well, maybe she’s thought about it a couple of times like when I nearly burnt the house down tryna make cookies or when I accidentally tore a hole in our wall tryna hang up a photo frame. 

Paige lets out a watery laugh as Tim winks at her, everything suddenly seeming a lot more simple than it had before the older man had walked through her door. 

“I know it’s not quite the same for you and Azzi,” Tim continues slowly, “you guys have a history that Katie and I didn’t. You both have more reasons to be scared than the two of us did. But Paige, I’ve always thought you were it for my baby girl. From the moment she came back from USA camp and all she could talk about was you, I just knew.”

Paige can’t help the broken sob that escapes her lips and Tim immediately rounds the kitchen counter to wrap an arm around her shoulder. 

“When she was pregnant with Stephie, she kept on asking for mint-choc chip ice cream. Said it was a craving or something. And she decorated everything for her in purple. All the baby clothes she bought were shades of purple,” he doesn’t quite say why Azzi did all of that but there’s a clear implication in his words. 

And Paige thinks that probably,  why she and Stephie are so similar, why they shared so many favorites, why the little girl had always felt like hers. Because Azzi had given a part of Paige to her daughter, even when she hadn’t had Paige herself. 

“Katie and Azzi, they’re mine but I think- I think if maybe someone else had gotten to them first -someone who loved them just as much as I do- maybe there’s a chance things would be different but Paige,” Tim squeezes the younger woman gently, “I think Azzi’s always been waiting for you. Subconsciously at least. There’s never really been anybody elese for her. Her and Stephie, they’ve both always been waiting for you, they’ve both always been yours.”

“You mean that?” Paige asks croakily and she feels like she’s a teenager again, asking Tim to pinky promise that he’d like her box-dyed purple hair no matter what. 

“I do,” Tim smiles as he looks at her, “and I think they’ll be yours forever. I think they want to be. You just have to say you’ll stay.”

[remedyturtles]

for the writing ask meme: disaster twins bc i am nothing if not predictable aaaaand ur pick of 8, 22, 29 or 42 if u would like :3

thank you my dearest russothy @rbtlvr for the prompt! this got away from me and also went in so many different directions lmao... snugs hope you like it :D

wordcount 2.7k, pre-series

22. "...you knew?"  29. "Tell me the truth."

"I've definitely got a unicorn horn." Leo said, holding up the puzzle piece. 

"Which one?" Donnie propped up the box lid. 

The two inspected, comparing the angle with the reference, covered in a multitude of unicorns.

"Hard to tell." Leo set the piece aside, with his other collection of possible key points. They'd only just finished the border, spread out the bedroom floor. They were twelve years old. They were both grounded. They were absolutely and intolerably bored. 

No TV. No phones. No lab time for Donnie, no skateboarding time for Leo. No amount of pleading with Raph or Mikey to smuggle them entertainment worked because they weren't happy either.

So it was the unicorn puzzle. And any other way they could pass the time. 

"It's your turn." Donnie said, flipping over a few middle pieces and sorting them into piles by colour. 

"Sure. Truth or dare." Leo plucked another horn-like piece with a pleased noise and tried to slot it with his first. It didn't fit. 

"Truth." Donnie said, after a moment.

"Wimp."

"I stand by my answer."

"Fine." Leo sighed, annoyed. "You're no fun. What is the last thing you looked up on the internet?"

"Pssh. Something absolutely genius, I'm sure." Donnie said. "But alas, we will never know, as I do not have my phone on me." 

"Hogwash." Leo said, mimicking his voice, "As if your eidetic memory doesn't know. I'm insulted on your own behalf that you would insinuate such a thing."

Donnie mentally ran back through his most recent searches and struggled not to cringe. A victorious smile spread over Leo's face, before he'd even said a word. 

"How'd you know it was going to be something stupid?" Donnie complained, ducking his head to pretend to sort his pieces more intently. 

Leo tapped his lip, milking his success. "Come on. You've got a thousand bookmarks on your computer for all your nerd stuff and overflowing shelves of paper books and manuals. If you need to Google something, then it's the bottom of the barrel questions." 

Donnie mumbled under his breath.

"What's that?" Leo leaned forward over the puzzle, grin growing to shit-eating.

"You heard me." Donnie's face flushed. 

"I'm not sure I did, because I'm pretty sure my genius prodigy Donatello knows exactly how many millimetres are in a centimetre." 

"I was just making sure!" Donnie complained loudly, snapping a hand out to push at Leo's face and shove him back to his side of the puzzle. "It's my turn now, shut up. Truth or dare?"

"Dare." Leo answered, because he always said dare. 

"Shocker." Donnie deadpanned. "Fine. Eat a puzzle piece."

"Okay." Leo picked up the unicorn horn. Before Donnie could stop him, he placed the piece on his tongue, swallowed, and showed a decidedly empty mouth.

"Oh my stars, Leon, I didn't think you'd actually do it." Donnie said, stunned with the heights of his idiocy. 

"You dared me." Leo shrugged. "What did you expect?"

"We needed that!" 

"You cannot pretend this is my fault. You literally just told me to eat it." 

"I hate you. Alright, Curious George, it's your turn." 

Leo barked a laugh. He rearranged his collection of unicorn horn pieces, forever missing one now, and said, "Truth or dare?"

"Dare." Donnie wasn't a wimp. 

"Bet." Leo hopped up and immediately began digging in a drawer. "Close your eyes. Don't open them until I say so."

Instant regret. So much instant regret. Donnie didn't obey, tense all over, watching Leo with wariness. 

Leo found whatever he was looking for, keeping it behind his back when he turned around, and said, challenging, "Are you switching?"

If Donnie switched to truth, Leo would ask something really awful, and he'd have no choice but to answer as penalty. So Donnie scoffed, like that was a ridiculous question, and shut his eyes. 

Leo’s footsteps got closer and he sat in front of Donnie. He said, calm and mischievous, “I’m going to touch your face.”

With the warning, he didn’t flinch when Leo carefully removed his mask, placing it in Donnie’s hand. Then there was the sound of an uncapped pen, and a whiff of marker. 

“Hold still.” Leo said, fingers bracing Donnie’s head and setting the marker tip to his face, waiting a moment for him to adjust, then began to draw.

“Urgh.” Donnie said, holding still beyond his fingers fidgeting in his lap with the mask, eyes closed but recognizing the movement of the pen in two arcs over either eye. 

“There.” Leo said, removing the pen. “We match.”

Donnie opened his eyes to see Leo directly in front of him, something warm and fond before it eased back into gremlin mischief. “Feel beautiful?”

Donnie got up and looked at himself in the mirror. Dark red marker stripes were drawn carefully over his eyes, matching at the face grinning behind him. 

He rolled his eyes. He stomped over to the same drawer and said, “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” Leo said, already taking off his mask. 

Donnie found the black marker. “Close your eyes.”

Obediently, Leo shut his eyes, grinning too hard that it caused his forehead to wrinkle while Donnie moved his head around to get the perfect sharp and thick eyebrows. He put genuine effort into making them look good, because Leo had too. 

“Done.” Donnie said, releasing his hostage of Leo’s head.

Leo leapt up to the mirror and gave a wolf whistle. “Damn! That’s not bad.”

“I didn’t come here to fuck around.” Donnie replied. Looking at both of them in the mirror he wished he had his phone so he could get a picture. He flashed a peace sign anyway, like they were taking a selfie, and Leo automatically mimicked it. For a moment, he forgot the situation and grinned back at his twin through the mirror. 

Then he remembered why they were stuck in a room doing puzzles and dropped the peace sign, shuffling down to sort through the stacks. Leo watched him, the small frown made quite more serious by his impressive brows, then hopped over the half assembled puzzle to his side. “My turn?”

It was an invitation to stop, if Donnie wasn’t feeling it anymore. But it wasn’t like they had anything better to do. “Truth.”

"Do you regret it?" 

Donnie glared at him. 

Leo stared back at him, completely serious. 

"I'm switching. Dare." Donnie said. Whatever horrible thing Leo could concoct would be better than answering that. Even if it meant he had to do it, no matter what. 

"Fine." Leo shrugged. "I dare you to tell me the truth."

"That's cheating." Donnie lifted his lip in a sneer.

"Is it?" Leo challenged. There wasn't a specific rule against it. 

Donnie didn't answer him, turning to try and poke his various pieces together. Neither of them spoke for a while. The tense atmosphere reigned. 

"I regret that I got caught." Donnie said, eventually. "Which probably isn't what I'm supposed to feel." 

"So you'd do it again, if you felt you couldn't get caught?" Leo prompted, knuckles white in his lap. 

"Only one question. Your turn. Truth or dare." 

"Dare."

"I dare you to answer a truth." Donnie said, sharp. 

Leo's eyes narrowed. He couldn't claim it was cheating without being a hypocrite and he knew it. He rolled out a slow, "Fine. Ask."

"Why'd you take the fall with me?" Donnie was been dying to ask. Leo hadn't even known what Donnie was up to, and yet he stood in front of Dad and swore he'd been helping. 

Leo said, "Pssh, I thought you were gonna ask something hard. So you weren't grounded alone, obviously. And it'd be so boring if I couldn't hang out with you anyway. And so I could bug you about what the hell you were thinking. So. Truth or dare?"

Donnie would eat every piece of this puzzle if he didn't have to answer another truth. "Dare." 

"Wimp." Leo said, shark-grin. 

"Your standards for cowardice seem to change from moment to moment." Donnie said, mouth dry. 

Leo could easily pull the same move and insist he answer a truth, but with the tit-for-tat complete, to abuse the power would break the game. "It's fine. This one'll be real easy," his gaze hardened, "especially since it's what you should've been doing all along. I dare you to take me with you next time."

Donnie exhaled slowly through his nose, swallowing. He avoided Leo's eye, pretending he was super interested in placing his puzzle pieces. "Fine." 

"Promise?"

"Yeah, whatever."

He could feel Leo staring at the top of his head. He irritatedly poked a piece in place, the leg of a unicorn, and asked, "Truth or dare?"

"I'll do truth if you do." Leo bargained. 

A rare offer. Despite his annoyance, he couldn't help but take the bait. "Deal."

"Perfect. Hit me." 

Donnie could tell Leo was already formulating his next question. Unfortunately for him, Donnie got to ask first. "Tell me something you've never told anyone."

Leo grimaced. He didn’t answer for a long minute, eyes visibly ticking back and forth as he thought.  Then laughed, a little nervous, and said, "Alright. Okay." 

The nerves were interesting. Donnie poked, almost fascinated, "Scared?"

"No, I just –" Leo bit his lip and glanced up, fidgeting with a bunch of sky pieces. He was definitely nervous, breath quickening. "I've wanted to say, actually. So this seems as good a moment as any."

Oh, this was actually serious. Weird. Made weirder by the drawn-on brows. Donnie waited for more information before assuming anything. Leo delayed longer, killing time, and only to falter at Donnie's expression. 

"It's uh, not a big deal, but. I figured I should … tell you. That. I'm gay." Leo held his breath at the end of the sentence.

"Right." Donnie nodded. 

Leo blinked at him like an owl. "... you knew?"

"I… figured." Donnie evaluated the situation and determined a different reaction was needed, judging by the clear anxiety of Leo's face. This hadn't been what Donnie was expecting, because why would Leo be nervous about his reaction. "I did not consider it worth a second thought. You are my twin. There is nothing about you that I wouldn't accept without question."

"Oh. Okay." Leo inhaled shakily then let it out slowly. "Cool. That's cool. Don't tell anyone else yet, okay?"

"Like you even have to ask." Donnie scoffed. There was a code about these sorts of things, after all, twelve years in the making. He wasn't about to break their sacred bond now. "Do you need a hug?"

Leo crawled directly over the puzzle to climb into Donnie's arms. He squeezed so hard it squashed the air out of his lungs. He mumbled in Donnie's ear, "Thanks."

"I love you. If anyone has a problem with it, send them directly to me." Donnie's grip tightened to the point of Leo letting out an 'oof' too. 

"Love you too." Leo gave another squish then pulled back, a puzzle piece stuck to his bare leg. "Your turn."

"Now?" Donnie complained. "After we just had a moment?"

"And we're about to have another moment, bucko." Leo was close enough to poke Donnie directly in the plastron, pretending to be stern even as he was still a little shaky. "Your turn."

"Truth." Donnie sighed, fulfilling his end of the bargain. 

"Why'd you do it?" Leo asked, immediate. All young indignation, eyes shining with left-behind hurt, and a more incandescent worry that was mirrored in all the annoyed glares outside their door. 

“Scoff.” Donnie avoided his eye. “Surely you do not need to hold me at metaphorical gunpoint to ask that question when you already know the answer. I wanted uranium.”

"That's not why you did it." Leo said, expression all the more severe by the painted brows. He insistently poked Donnie in the middle of his plastron again. "I know you didn't want uranium just to have. There's always a purpose, a plan. Why?" 

"Multiple uses." Donnie said, tightly, through clenched teeth. "It doesn't matter. No one wants me to have it because they think I'll give myself radiation poisoning. Because it'll put me on a watch list. Because when I tried to sneak out and meet up with a seller I got caught. So it doesn't matter, because obviously no one here is going to let me."

"You're right about that, because you will give yourself radiation poisoning and sneaking off when you're a twelve-year-old mutant to meet up with some sketchy seller was a terrible idea. That's still not what I'm asking. Why?" Leo said, because despite pretending for everyone else that he was in on it the whole time, he was actually just as opposed as the rest of them at his failed scheme.

Donnie physically pushed Leo away, since he was still so close. "It doesn't matter! Okay! I can't do it, so it doesn't matter!"

"It matters to me. Because I'm asking." Leo insisted, hands braced backwards onto the puzzle and separating out the few pieces they'd gotten together. "It's truth, you have to answer."

"I could switch to dare." Donnie said, annoyed.

"Then I'd dare you to tell me the truth."

"That's cheap and you know it."

Leo just stared at him, still leaning back and waiting. Completely dead set and expectant that Donnie would crack. 

"There's nothing more to say." Donnie said, swallowing and feeling how his throat was sore. "I have projects that only a radioactive isotope can satisfy."

"Okay?" Leo prompted. Waiting for the expected info-dump. 

"Why do you care?" Donnie snapped. "Weapons. Big, powerful weapons, that would obliterate anyone who dared mess with our family. And – a-and unlimited power. And heat. For our home. Okay? Are you happy? Because we don't to have those things anyway, so it doesn't matter."

Grim triumph washed over Leo's expression, and he leaned forward to ask, "Do you think we'd want that at the expense of your life?"

"I wasn't going to die!" Donnie exclaimed. "And if I have the power to make our lives better, safer, more efficient, shouldn't I take it? Shouldn't I push the laws of the universe to give us everything we deserve when we're trapped underground like rats?"

"That stuff is pretty important, but it's not more important than you." Leo said, slowly. 

Donnie smacked his hand against the floor and blurted, "That's what I'm good for, so yeah, it is!"

Leo's expression flashed and he gave a low growl. He lunged forward and caught Donnie in a roll, sending the two of them tussling into the dresser. A loud thud made the wall shake. Donnie kicked Leo in the shins. Leo elbowed Donnie in the solar plexus. 

"Boys!" Splinter knocked loudly on the door. "No killing each other!"

"Yes Dad!" Donnie and Leo recited together, stalled mid-fight, waiting for the footsteps to disappear before struggling apart.

"What was that for?" Donnie rubbed his plastron, scowling.

"For basing your self worth on what you provide for this family." Leo straight up threw puzzle pieces at him, scattering unicorn bits all over the carpet. "Don't be ridiculous. You're so much smarter than that. If we only let people in because they're useful then I woulda been kicked out years ago."

"That's not true." Donnie protested. 

"That's not the point." Leo rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter who's useful or not. You're one of us forever. No take backs. You don't have to superfit the lair with big weapons and make us completely self-sustaining or whatever. Dad only let you start doing upgrades because you were having fun. If you're doing it to earn your place here then I'll burn your lab down."

"It's fun." Donnie said, quickly, because Leo had an affection for fire that should not be tempted. "Fine. I hear you. I will be satisfied with projects that bring me joy and not radiation poisoning. Can we finish this puzzle or did you actually swallow that piece?"

Leo's severe expression melted, and he reached behind Donnie's non-existent ear and revealed the unicorn horn piece flipping over his knuckles. "Looks like you had it rattling around in your big head this whole time."

"Hah. Caught you." Donnie grinned. "If you cheated on that dare now you gotta do one that's twice as bad." 

Leo swore.

[notiddygothgf]

18. Stained Sheets

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ What would you do if things were different?❞

★ c.w.: LITERALLY pure lovemaking, fluff, talks of the future, a certain position that is the sum of 34 and 35. totally unrevised.

★ a/n: HI MY MUNCHKINS!! as promised, here is the second chapter. I promise, you'll love it (I wrung my brain dry writing this, i love aki sm). Not gonna say too much, but more at the end of the chapter!!!! Keep those comments coming and I'll keep the content coming (lord knows I'll have plenty of time to write it on vacay. typing this on a beach rn btw, its 90 degrees here and 20 degrees back at home).

★ w.c: .7.5k

shameless ; chapter index

YOU AND AKI flopped onto the cushiony surface of his mattress, the analog clock on his nightstand glowing softly in the dim room: 12:58 AM. The faint hum of the city drifted through the cracked window, accompanied by the occasional whoosh of a passing car. The air in his room was cool and faintly smelled of his cologne, something sharp and clean, mixed with the faintest hint of cigarettes. 

Side by side, you both lay there, staring up at the ceiling. Your limbs were stretched out like a starfish, while Aki had one arm draped lazily over his stomach, the other tucked under his head. You huffed out a laugh, breaking the silence, your voice low to match the quiet of the room.

"This week as been... a lot," you muttered, rubbing your hands over your face before letting them flop back onto the bed. 

Aki groaned softly in agreement. "Yeah. Feels good to be back in a real bed." 

"Did you pick up those meds the doctor prescribed?" You turned your head to glance at him, raising a brow. 

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. "Does nicotine count?" 

You groaned dramatically, propping yourself up on one elbow. "You're gonna be so cranky tomorrow when your back hurts, grandpa." 

"I'm not cranky," he argued, side-eyeing you with a faint smirk. 

"Right, you're a fuckin' ray of sunshine," you teased, poking his arm. "The poster child for positivity." 

He chuckled, low and soft, the sound warming the small space between you. "That's rich." 

You gasped, feigning offense. "What do you mean?" 

Aki turned his head fully toward you, his dark hair falling slightly into his face. "You're pissy as hell, like, half of the time." 

"Oh, right, because you're so congenial," you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him. "You love my attitude." 

"I do," he said easily, his smirk softening into something almost fond. 

You couldn't help but grin back at him, the playful banter easing the exhaustion that had settled into your bones. There was something about these moments with Aki—small, quiet, and unhurried—that felt like a balm, soothing the edges of a hectic day. 

The silence stretched for a beat, comfortable and heavy with the kind of familiarity that didn't need filling. You stared at the ceiling again, your thoughts wandering. "Hey," you said after a while, your voice quieter now. "Do you ever think about stuff like... I don't know, what would you be doing if things were different?" 

Aki shifted slightly beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight. "Different... how?" 

"Like... no Devils. No Public Safety. Just... normal life stuff." 

He was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on some indeterminate point on the ceiling. "I guess I don't let myself think about it much," he admitted. "It feels... pointless, you know?" 

"Yeah," you murmured, though your chest tightened a little at his words. "But still. If you could imagine it, what do you think you'd be doing?" 

Aki let out a soft breath, almost a sigh. "Maybe something boring. A desk job, maybe. Nine to five, go home, cook dinner, watch TV. Something simple." 

"You? At a desk job?" you said with a laugh. "I can't see it. You'd lose your mind." 

He chuckled again, shaking his head. "Probably." 

"What about something cooler, like... I don't know, quitting Public Safety and owning a little coffee shop? You could wear one of those cute aprons and everything." 

Aki turned his head to look at you, his brow arching in mild amusement. "A coffee shop?" 

"Yeah. You'd totally pull it off. You've got the broody, mysterious vibe down already. Plus, imagine all the tips you'd get from customers swooning over you." 

His cheeks tinted the faintest pink, and he scoffed, looking away. "You're ridiculous." 

"I'm being objective, here," you teased, poking his side again. 

He caught your hand this time, his fingers curling gently around your wrist. The sudden contact made your breath hitch for just a second, but you masked it with a grin. "Okay, your turn," he said, his tone shifting as he tried to regain control of the conversation. 

"My turn?" 

"Yeah. What would you do if things were different?" 

You considered for a moment, chewing on your lip. "I'd travel, I think. See the world, eat all the food, meet all kinds of people. Just... live, you know?" 

"Sounds nice," he said softly, his thumb unconsciously brushing against your wrist before he let go. 

The room fell into another comfortable silence, but this time, the air felt heavier, charged with something you couldn't quite name. You turned your head again, catching the way Aki's eyes lingered on you before quickly darting away. 

"What?" you asked, tilting your head. 

"Nothing," he said too quickly, his voice tight. 

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. "It's not nothing. Spill." 

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as if debating whether to speak. Finally, he sighed, turning fully onto his side to face you. "I was just thinking..." 

"Thinking what?" you prompted, your heart skipping a beat at the seriousness in his tone. 

"You look good in my clothes," He looked at you for a moment, his dark eyes searching yours, and then, almost shyly, a small smirk tugged at his lips. "I could get used to the sight of you like this."

The statement caught you off guard, your eyes widening slightly before you barked out a laugh. "What?" 

"I'm serious," he said, the smirk growing. "I could." 

You squinted at him, trying to gauge whether he was teasing or not. "Are you trying to make me do your laundry? Because that's not happening." 

He shook his head, his gaze flickering down to your lips and back up again. "No. I just think it'd suit you. Can't imagine that a woman who can barely cook for herself would be a good homemaker, anyway." 

There was something in the way he said it—low, deliberate—that made your cheeks heat. "Oh, yeah?" you said, trying to play it cool. "What's the appeal? Oversized shirt, messy hair, looking like I just rolled out of bed?" 

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping just enough to make your heart race. "Exactly." 

The air between you seemed to shift, the teasing suddenly laced with something more. You raised a brow, determined not to let him fluster you. "You've got a real thing for this, huh?" 

"Maybe," he admitted, his smirk softening into something warmer. "Or maybe you'd look better without them – my clothes." 

Your breath caught, your brain short-circuiting for half a second. "Aki," you gasped, smacking his shoulder. 

He laughed, the sound rich and genuine, and you couldn't help but join him. It was absurd, but the way he was looking at you—like you were the only person in the world—made your heart feel too big for your chest. 

The laughter faded, leaving behind a soft, lingering silence. Aki reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against your cheek before settling there. His thumb traced a faint line along your skin, and before you knew it, he was leaning in. 

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, like he was testing the waters. But then you melted into it, your hands tangling in his hair as the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. 

The laughter faded slowly, leaving behind a quiet that felt heavier, charged with something unspoken. Aki's hand lingered near your face, his fingers brushing your cheek with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine. His dark eyes searched yours, flicking down to your lips for just a moment before meeting your gaze again. It was hesitant, almost as if he was waiting for permission, or perhaps the courage, to take the leap.

When he leaned in, it was slow—agonizingly slow. You could feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin, and your own breath hitched, caught in your throat. Your heart raced in your chest, pounding so loudly that you were certain he could hear it. Then, finally, his lips met yours.

It started soft, barely there, like he was testing the waters. His lips were warm and a little chapped, and he kissed you with a careful kind of tenderness, as if you might break if he pressed too hard. The world seemed to tilt on its axis, narrowing until the only thing that existed was Aki—his hand on your cheek, the subtle press of his lips against yours, the faint scent of his cologne wrapping around you.

As the kiss deepened, the hesitance melted away. Aki's hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer. His other hand came to rest lightly on your waist, his touch grounding and electrifying all at once. You felt yourself leaning into him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, then tangling in his hair. It was soft and slightly messy between your fingers, and you found yourself smiling into the kiss, overwhelmed by the realization of how much you'd wanted this.

Aki tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss further, and a quiet, almost inaudible sound escaped him—a soft sigh that sent warmth coursing through your entire body. His lips moved against yours with a newfound confidence, slow but deliberate, like he was savoring every moment. The kiss wasn't hurried or desperate; it was something else entirely. It was an exploration, a quiet confession, a promise.

You broke away for the briefest moment, gasping for air, but Aki didn't let you go far. His forehead rested against yours, his breath heavy and uneven, mingling with your own in the small space between you. His thumb brushed along your jawline, a gesture so gentle it made your chest ache (and your stomach feel warm).

You opened your eyes, meeting his. His cheeks were flushed, his lips slightly swollen, and his usually guarded expression was wide open, unfiltered. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, and it made your heart stutter.

Then, without saying a word, he kissed you again, softer this time, almost reverent. It was slower, more deliberate, like he was trying to commit the feel of you to memory. Your hands slid down to his chest, resting there as you kissed him back, matching his rhythm. Each touch, each movement felt like a silent conversation, one that didn't need words.

When you finally broke the kiss, you were both breathless, your faces still impossibly close. A laugh bubbled up from your chest, light and giddy, and Aki's lips quirked into a small smile.

"Wait," you murmured, your voice breathy but tinged with excitement.

Aki blinked, his brows furrowing slightly as he tried to steady his breathing. "What?" he asked, his voice soft, like he was reluctant to break the moment.

You grinned, already sitting up. "I have an idea."

Aki groaned, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. "Why do I feel like this is going to end with me regretting it?" 

You shot him a mischievous look over your shoulder as you headed for his closet. "Oh, ye of little faith. Trust me."

Aki's closet was so... him. It was a sea of neatly-pressed sweaters, tees, and shirts – black, white, grey, navy blue, for the most part, with only a few exceptions. You reached for the tie he had hung up there only a few hours earlier, wrapping it around your knuckle.

"What are you doing in there?" He inquired.

With a grin, you hid the wound-up tie behind your back, sauntering back out into the master bedroom. 

He looked at you how a mother looked at her child's mud pie – with his brows knitted and the faintest hint of a smirk on his face. Slowly, he asked, "What's that?"

You stepped towards the bed, crawling towards him until you were straddling his narrow waist. He peered up at you through those confused blue eyes of his, but humored you nevertheless. Rather than glorifying him with an answer, you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips. Then another. By the third, he was reaching for you, and you were prying his hands off of you to pin them to the pillow atop his head.

His eyes widened, glinting with mischief, "Where are you going with this?"

"So many questions," You shushed him. Taking the balled up tie into your hand, you wound it around the headboard of Aki's bed, bringing it back down to wrap around his wrists before finishing it off with a knot. Aki, shockingly enough, allowed you without a word of protest.

He looked pretty all of the time – just to be clear – but you couldn't help but think that he looked prettiest when he was underneath you, hair splayed out over the pillow, face dusted with a pretty shade of pink, eyes half lidded as he awaited your next move.

You leaned down, capturing his lips in another kiss, this one slower, deeper, lingering just long enough to leave him chasing after you when you pulled back. His breath hitched, and his chest rose beneath you as he tilted his head up, silently asking for more.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you ?" you teased, brushing your thumb over the delicate curve of his cheek.

"Maybe," he murmured, the corner of his lips twitching into a smirk. His voice was soft, tinged with a slight tremor that betrayed the calm he was trying to project.

You rocked your hips against him, slow and deliberate, eliciting a soft whine from his lips. The sound sent a shiver through you, and you couldn't resist the urge to do it again, drawing out another gasp as his body tensed beneath you.

"A little excited, are we?" you murmured, lips brushing against his ear.

His cheeks flushed deeper, but he didn't look away. Instead, his half-lidded eyes locked onto yours, brimming with a mix of embarrassment and undeniable want. He was harder than a boulder beneath your hips already, and you hadn't done much. He tugged lightly against the tie securing his wrists, testing the knot, but you pressed your palms to his chest, holding him still. 

"I didn't say you could move," you whispered, and he let out a shaky exhale, sinking back into the pillows.

When you leaned down to kiss him again, he met you halfway, lips parting eagerly against yours. His breath came faster now, and his head tilted to follow your movement, as if desperate to close every fraction of distance. The soft, needy sounds he made as you rocked against him grew louder, sending a heat rushing through you.

"Patience, Aki," you murmured against his lips, though your resolve was starting to waver. His body beneath yours was intoxicating, the way he moved, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing he needed in the world.

"I don't think I have much of that left," he admitted, his voice breaking on a quiet moan as you shifted your weight just right.

You decided to test that theory, dragging your hips back and forth and back again until the two of you were panting like horny teens. 

"I want you," He breathed, "I need you."

"Where do you need me?" You asked. Licking his neck, you teased, "Here?" A little lower, near his collarbone, "Here?" Another kiss to his stomach as you continued crawling down, "Here?" And one more just atop the tent in his pants, "...Here?"

He arched up, tented fabric brushing against your cheek so deliciously. "Please, I can't– I..." He sighed, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

You pressed another kiss to his clothed cock, which jumped up playfully, tapping your lips like it had a mind of its own. Peering up at him through faux-innocent eyes, you purred, "What? Use your words."

He swallowed, "If you keep teasing me like that," He choked out a laugh while you mouthed at his dick through his pants. "I'm gonna...cream my pants like a fuckin' middle schooler."

"Would that be so bad?" You teased. (And, truthfully, you would be lying if you said you didn't want to see that just a little bit – the picture of his body arching up, eyes rolling back as he came prematurely with a cry of your name).

"Please," He groaned, and you knew exactly what he wanted.

"How about... right here?" You gripped the waistband of his pants, wiggling them down to his thighs. He was sporting a pair of navy blue boxers today – the cotton kind, fabric strained around his erection, stained darker at the tip by the tiniest little wet mark. Bracing your weight on your hands, you leaned down, placing a long, tender kiss to the spot.

Cute, you thought. 

You wrapped your lips around the head of it, mouthing hungrily at him through the fabric. He opened his legs a little wider to accommodate you. 

"Yes," He panted.

He wants more. You didn't want to keep him waiting. So, teasing your thumb beneath the waistband of his boxers and snapping the elastic against his navel once, you tugged his boxers down, finally freeing him from its confinement. 

And there he was. Long and thick and flushed a pretty shade of pink at the tip, just as you had remembered. You wrapped a tentative hand around it, flitting your tongue over the head to collect the pretty little bead of precum that had bubbled up at the top. Once you were satisfied with that, with the salty taste of him, you gave it another lick.

"Don't be a tease," He warned you, though he was smiling the whole time.

Fine, then. You didn't bother pulling his pants the rest of the way down, or even acknowledging his comment. No, the moment the waistband was out of the way, you were swallowing him whole.

Aki exhaled sharply, nearly doubling over at the sensation of your warm mouth closing in around him. He felt the muscles in his abdomen tense with the strain of it – it felt like he could cum like this, with your lips stretched around him, and you didn't really think you (or him) would mind testing that theory.

His skin was hot. He burned for you – the same way you burned for him.

You pulled up. Sucking him back into your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks. Then you throated him again, right up until your nose brushed his navel. You felt him throb in your mouth.

"Fuck, 's good," He whimpered weakly, tugging at his makeshift restraints while you picked up the pace.

Up and down, up and down, fitting him all the way in until the head of his cock bumped the back of your throat. Until you were gagging on him, eyes watering from the stretch. Until your eyelids were fluttering shut.

He moaned for you – deep and velvety and, suddenly, you couldn't care less about his roommates that may or may not have been within earshot. 

You made a noise in response, though it was broken up by the nasty, dirty sound you made every time you gagged on his dick. You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes, through long, wispy lashes, leaving a trail of saliva running down his thighs that you didn't even mind.

Aki squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip. "Fuck," he panted, "You're– God."

You hovered over him, a mischievous gleam in your eyes as your lips wrapped around him. His body tensed, his muscles clenching instinctively under your touch, and his wrists strained desperately against the tie that kept them secured. His breath caught in his throat as he tried to shift beneath you, but there was no escape. 

You sucked him into your mouth again, this time more deliberately, lingering longer than before – letting him sit in the back of your throat even though you ached with the strain of it. His stomach twitched beneath you, and you could feel the slight hitch in his breath, his chest rising and falling faster. A small whimper escaped him, muffled by his own lips, and it made your smirk grow wider. His laughter was nervous now, caught somewhere between amusement and helplessness, as your sucking grew harder and more insistent, trailing lower with every press of your mouth. 

The hot air on his damp skin heightened the sensation, making him squirm even more. His body was betraying him—each lick, each slurp, teasing touch of your fingers up and down his inner thighs making it harder to hold back the rising wave of pleasure. You could see it in his face—the way his cheeks flushed deeper with each second, the way his breath became shallow, quick. 

You didn't stop. Your lips brushed lower still, moving deliberately across his cock, lingering just enough around the base to hear the soft gasp from his lips, the quiet hitching of his breath every time your nose brushed against his navel. His hips bucked involuntarily against the bed, and the restraint of his wrists only seemed to make his movements more desperate. The feeling of vulnerability that hit him so suddenly was undeniable, and you couldn't help but feel the rush of satisfaction from the effect you had on him. 

Every time your lips met his skin, it was more intense than the last. It was wetter now, a little messier, each movement of your head up and down his shaft seeming to linger just a bit longer, dragging out the sensation of exposure and teasing. You let your tongue flick out, just once, to trace the line of his skin where your lips had been. His body jumped at the contact, and you smiled at the way his muscles clenched in response. 

He was completely at your mercy.. 

His face had turned pink now, the flush spreading across his neck and down his chest. He bit down on his lip, trying to stifle the sounds that threatened to spill from him, but his breath was ragged, his chest heaving beneath you. You could see the embarrassment burning through his attempts to keep himself composed. 

He arched slightly, his back lifting off the bed as he tried to pull away from the sensation, but the restraints held him firmly in place. His throat tightened as he stifled another sound, but it escaped anyway—a soft, almost involuntary moan that only made you want to go harder. You could feel the heat of his skin against your lips, and you took your time, savoring each moment of his helplessness. 

Before you could continue any further, his voice broke through, low and desperate. "Wait–" His wrists tugged once more against the tie, his body still aching from the restraint, his words barely audible. "Wait, I wanna try something different.

Finally, you paused, lifting your head just enough to let your breath linger over the trail you'd left behind. His chest heaved with the effort of trying to catch his breath, his eyes half-lidded in both frustration and something else—something you couldn't quite place, but you saw it in the way his pupils were dilated, the way his body still trembled beneath you. 

You met his gaze, and for a moment, the playful tension in the room seemed to shift. There was a long, drawn-out silence between you, the only sound the echo of his breathing. You brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes never leaving his, watching the way he struggled to collect himself, his body betraying him every time he moved. 

"My face," After sufficiently collecting his breath, he nodded, motioning for you to climb back up his torso. "Sit on it."

You relented, sitting back on your heels with a look of playful satisfaction. Your eyes never left him as you studied his flushed face, the way his breaths still came in shallow gasps. There was a brief moment where you almost felt bad—almost—but the thrill of seeing him so vulnerable, so exposed, left you feeling more alive than you had in a long time. 

"You want me to..." You swallowed. "On your face?"

"Yeah."

He was quiet for a long moment, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to steady himself. His face was still flushed that pretty shade of pink, his body still trembling slightly under the aftershocks of the tension. His wrists pulled gently at the tie again, though it wasn't to free himself anymore. It was to center himself, to find the control he had lost in the heat of the moment. 

"What if I crush you?" You asked, hesitant to climb up there. Your ex husband was right about one thing – you had certainly put on a couple of pounds. The last thing you wanted was to break his nose, or something like that. 

"Then I die a happy ma," He shrugged, pupils dilated, "Sit on my face."

You slowly untied the tie that held him, taking your time, watching him intently as you did. The look on his face was a mixture of relief and lingering frustration, and for a moment, you just watched him breathe, the soft sound of his pants filling the space between you. 

"Okay," You sighed. "How do I...? How do we do this?"

"Turn around f'me and back it up," He chuckled. "You can start by taking those pants off."

"You want my ass all up in your face?" You quirked a brow. Still, a little uncertainly, you sat back onto your knees, wiggling your pants down and off of your legs. Then, huffing out a nervous breath, you turned around – straddling his legs, reverse cowgirl in nothing more than your panties. The air felt cold against the wet patch you had made in the fabric.

"You talk a lot, you know that?" He teased. "Come on. Back it up."

With a roll of your eyes, you crawled backwards – back and back, until your hips were hovering over his face, until you could feel the warmth of his breath against your clothed pussy. Until you were eye-to-eye with his cock, still hard and wet from your lips.

"Like this?" You asked. Your legs were shaking already just thinking about how this would go. 

"No," He tutted. "Like this."

His hands snaked up to grip your hips. Then, without a word of warning, he pulled them down until you were flush up against his face. You could feel his lips as they pressed a hot kiss to your pussy through the drenched fabric – his pointed nose as it pressed deep into your cushiony lips.

You felt him hook a finger beneath the crotch of your panties. Then, he pulled them to the side.

"What are you...?" You trailed off. The moment his breath hit your bare skin, you were quiet, shuddering as a wonton gasp left your lips. 

"Such a pretty pussy," He remarked. His tongue flitted out to lick a hot stripe up from your neglected clit to your entrance, and he moaned – fuck – moaned at the taste of you. His grip tightened ever-so-slightly, and then he was diving in, sucking your puffy clit into his mouth.

"Fuck!" You gasped out. This angle was strange, but not at all unwelcome. "Fuck me. Oh God, Aki–"

His roommates. You thought. Surely, any minute now, they would hear the two of you. So, sparing a glance to his twitching cock, you licked your lips and sucked the tip into your mouth. This will keep me quiet.

Keep you quiet it may have done, but him? He was another story. 

The moment the head of his dick was back on your tongue, he was moaning into your slick pussy, pulling you right up against his mouth while he painted circles and shapes with the tip of his tongue all over your needy cunt. It was wet back there – wet enough that your pussy met no friction when you grinded against his face, smearing your juices everywhere.

So fucking hot.

You took him deeper into your mouth, softening up your tongue to allow him more room. Then, you began to deep throat him – take him all the way down to the base.

He responded in kind with a whine, lips wrapped around your clit in a way that had you seeing fucking stars. You rutted your hips back again, desperately seeking more of that searing, white-hot pleasure he was giving you.

He was sucking on you the way you liked – like you were a jawbreaker. Like you were a four-course meal and he was a starving patron.

A few minutes later, and you were getting close already. It was a combined effort from his skilled tongue and the sound of his pretty little moans and whimpers every time you throated him down. You didn't care that your eyes were watering, that your neck and mouth were beginning to ache with the strain. All that mattered was him – the feeling of his big hands gripping your ass in his hands, smacking the skin there every so often until you were gasping (more like gagging) around him.

And, judging by the way he was beginning to squirm, you knew he was close, too. You were determined – determined to make him cum before you did. So, in an effort to finish the job, you went at it a little faster.

Up and down, up and down, sucking and slurping and moaning around his dick – which left you no room to get out anything beyond a series of gurgled moans and groans. The feeling of ecstasy washed over you like the ocean's tide, pulling you further away from shore, deeper into its blue depths.

Aki reached down to tangle a fist in your hair. He grunted something along the lines of 'Good fuckin' girl' into your pussy, and then he was guiding your head up and down his shaft. A little faster now.

Sucking him back into your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks.

Aki sighed, throbbing in your mouth, growing bigger as you felt him get harder. In response to your ministrations, he tightened the suction around your clit, then loosened it again. It was all too much to handle – you felt like you were melting.

"Fuck," He panted, releasing the suction. His hips jumped up as he chased a little more of that release he desperately craved. 

When his hand slipped behind his head to guide your head gently, bobbing you back and forth on his dick, you melted into him. You were struggling to fit the whole thing in your mouth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you were determined. His shudders and sighs spurred you onward.

"Takin' it so well," He purred, guiding your head. "Gettin' me so close."

You felt that fire in your core reignite, thighs clenching around his pretty face while you pulled back for a moment to slurp on the tip rather unceremoniously, spit dripping down his dick. You tilted your head to the side, wrapping your hands around what you couldn't fit into your mouth to work the rest of him. Your tongue swirled around it like a lollipop.

You were putting in overtime.

As you braced your hands on his hips to sink your head the rest of the way down, you met some resistance, eyes watering as you felt yourself gag on him. 

The muscles in Aki's thighs tensed. With a blissful sigh, he slipped a finger into your warmth. He felt so fucking good, it made your heart skip a beat – long, thick fingers sliding into you with little resistance, tongue working you up to an orgasm already.

"Oh, fuuuck..." He trailed off, then his hand fisted itself in your hair, and you felt yourself mewl. "'M so close, wait–"

(Of course, that only made you want to do it more). You wrapped your lips tighter around him, sucking him down until you were moaning around his length.

"God–" He sucked you back into his mouth, then departed from the wet flesh to shudder beneath you, "Oh, shit, I think I'm–" Another shudder, another tremble, then his hips were arching up off the bed, "Fuck–"

Then he came hard, crying out your name before he broke – popping in your mouth like bubblegum, shooting a warm load down the back of your throat. His grip on your hair tightened, as if he hadn't expected to finish so soon, and then he was huffing out a quiet, blissed out laugh. You swallowed it like it was your job.

"Got a little excited, did we?" You teased, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Still, your voice was hoarse when you climbed off of him. 

When you turned to face him, he didn't reply – chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His hair was disheveled and his face was pink, glossy at the bottom where you had been seated. His blue eyes were wide and wild as he licked his lips.

Truthfully, you were okay with the fact that you hadn't finished. His reactions – feeling him arch up into you the way he did – were enough. He did not seem to share your sentiment, gazing at you like you were a slab of raw meat.

"Come here," He answered. "Ride my face, baby."

He's got some crazy stamina, you gaped at him. 

Still, when he didn't revoke his statement, you began to smile. "Yeah?"

"Please," He pleaded with you. 

You swung your leg over him slowly, careful and deliberate, as if you were testing the weight of the moment. The second you settled onto his chest, you felt everything shift. His body was warm beneath you, solid and unmoving, but the look in his eyes—dark, intense—sent a shiver racing down your spine. 

You fidgeted, your fingers brushing over the hem of your shirt in a nervous, mindless gesture, trying to distract yourself from the way his gaze seemed to burn through you. His hair was a mess, sticking to his forehead in wild, disheveled strands, and his lips quirked into the faintest, laziest smirk. From here, you could see him – really see him, and he was fucking beautiful.

"Relax," he murmured, his voice low, teasing, but it did nothing to ease the flutter of nerves in your chest. 

Then he smiled wider, letting his head fall back against the mattress while you settled your thighs around his face. Nervously, you lowered yourself down, hovering over him. "You look great from down here, by the way." 

The words struck you like a physical touch, heat rushing to your cheeks. You opened your mouth, ready to shoot back something—anything—but before you could, his hands shifted at your sides, steadying your hips as he moved down on the bed.

The motion brought you off balance, your breath catching in a sharp gasp as you pressed your palms against the wall behind him to steady yourself. The closeness was overwhelming, his body beneath yours, his hands at your waist, his grin nothing short of devilish. 

"Careful," he said, his voice soft but unmistakably amused. 

"You're impossible," you shot back, your words trembling as much as your hands. 

"And yet, here you are," he replied smoothly, his thumbs brushing gently against your sides, sending sparks skittering along your skin. 

Before you could think of a retort, you felt it—a light, barely-there press of his lips against the most sensitive part of you. Your breath hitched, your entire body freezing in place as he tilted his head, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. 

"You're so tense," he murmured, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your leg as he licked another long, hot stripe across it, this one slower, more deliberate. 

Your knees tightened instinctively against his face, your pulse pounding so loudly you could barely hear the soft rumble of his laugh. 

"What are you—" you started, but your voice faltered when he tilted his head again, wrapping his lips around your puffy pink clit and lavishing it with attention from his tongue.. 

He hummed, his tone maddeningly calm, even as his fingers slid up just a fraction, his grip on your ass a little firmer now. 

Your chest tightened, the heat rushing from your cheeks to the pit of your stomach. "Fuck me, Aki" you managed to whisper, though your voice lacked the conviction you wanted it to have. 

"I want to," he admitted, then went back to practically making out with your pussy, sending a jolt through your body.

You tried to move, tried to pull back and regain some semblance of control, but his hands steadied you, his grip strong but never forceful. Your breath hitched again as he looked up at you, his eyes locking onto yours. The intensity there made you forget what you were going to say, forget where you were entirely – at least, until you heard him slurping you up, gathering your juices onto his tongue.

"Aki, please, I–" You pleaded with the man. Your hand had found its way down to his head, gripping his damp, disheveled locks like your life depended on it. In a matter of seconds, he had single handedly reduced you to a babbling mess. "Mnnnh-"

He groaned into your flesh. With your thighs pressed against both sides of his head, he made for a pretty sight. His hair was tied into a back, though you had ruined most of it with your ruthless rutting. He did nothing to stop you as you clamped your legs over his ears, shamelessly riding his face – just as he had asked.

Prying your legs away from his face, Aki gasped for air. His face was flushed a pretty shade of red. His eyes were wild, lustful as your juices dripped off the sides of his face. "Never gettin' over how good you taste," he panted.

You lifted your hips away from his face in an attempt to make it easier for him to breathe. Your efforts were in vain. He gripped your hips harshly, seating you on his face and then continuing to eat you up like a man starved. 

You found it difficult to pry your eyes away from him. He looked so happy to be trapped between your thighs like this, like he had been waiting ages for it. The way he sucked and slurped expertly at your dripping cunt had your legs trembling around him.

"Sit," he mumbled through a mouthful of your clit. 

"Don't wann'... ngh," You leaned forward, bracing your hands over the bed frame while he dragged your hips back and forth, back and forth over his face until the friction was almost too much to bear. Every time his nose bumped your clit, you mewled, rutting your hips down. "G'nna crush you."

"Sit," he affirmed. "Ride my face."

"Aki– I'm close," You managed to get out through a string of broken moans.

He moaned, pushing your hips up against his nose. He never stopped his incessant licking and sucking, tongue working you up to what would be an earth shattering orgasm. Your pussy was sensitive, so sensitive, yet he wasn't going any easier on you. At this rate, you were convinced you would have to beg for mercy.

"Can't..." You panted. You weren't sure you could finish another time. You were sore, tired, and you were beyond overstimulated.

"C'mon, baby," he paused his desperate licking to beg. "You can do it for me."

You licked your lips, feeling tears begin to well at the corners of your eyes. It was all so much... too much. "I can't," you gasped.

"You can do it, baby," He purred. Sucking harshly on your clit – and then making up for it with a few gentle licks – he added. "Just one, okay?"

On cue, he slid his hands up to your waist, fingers digging into the skin on your waist. You weren't sure if you could take any more. You felt like you were going to fucking pass out.

"Aki, 'm gonna cum," You began, abruptly cutting your own sentence off with a gasp as slipped his tongue inside. "Fuck."

Aki's tongue was long, reaching deeper into you than you expected, and the angle certainly didn't make it better. Almost immediately, he had you arching up, thighs trembling as they clamped around his face, rubbing a slow, steady circle to ease you into the sudden intrusion before he began fucking it into you. You saw stars – and didn't stop moaning until he had to pry your legs open.

You raised your head off the bed, trying to rest your weight on your trembling hands, atop his bed frame so you could get a good look at him. 

You would never forget the sight of him below you like that. His hair – despite having been ruined by your legs – framed his pretty face the same way it usually did. His face was dusted with a gentle, rosy hue again.

You were embarrassed, oddly enough, and laid your head down to cover your face with your hands. He couldn't be real. There was no way this was real. It was too good to be true. 

"Oh my fucking God–" you stammered. "'M gonna cum– I'm gonna cum!"

He parted from your pussy with an obscene slurp, "Come on, baby– Cum all over my face."

And cum on his face you sure did. Instantaneously, somehow, he licked the right spot – just the right amount of pressure – then it snapped. The coil of your release snapped with all of the power of a freight train, your orgasm slamming into you in a way that had your back arching up off of the bed. 

Your hips jolted up against his fingers and his tongue, lips chanting his name like a mantra while feeling every last stroke of his warm tongue against your pussy.

You could feel the shock tear through you in waves, tearing trembling gasps from your lungs while you expelled your juices all over his face and the bed. "Aki," you gasped again once the pleasure had cleared long enough for you to think. Not your soon-to-be-ex-husband, Aki. 

"Oh, God, I made a fuckin' mess," You said, teetering between a gasp and a laugh.

Aki chuckled, his voice low and breathless, and somehow even in this state, he was devastatingly gorgeous. His hair stuck to his damp forehead, his cheeks flushed, and his lips curved into the kind of smile that sent warmth flooding through you. "You're so fucking hot, you know that?" he murmured, his tone both teasing and sincere.

You let out a huff of laughter, shaking your head as you tried to gather your thoughts. But then you looked at him—really looked at him. His head was tilted back against the pillow, his eyes half-lidded but still shining with that unmistakable adoration he always seemed to have when he looked at you. Blissed out and in love, he looked utterly wrecked in the best possible way.

Your gaze flicked down to the pillow beneath him, and you couldn't help but cringe. A mess, indeed. The sight of it—the tangled sheets, the cotton of his pillowcase drenched, the faint evidence of your chaotic moment—was enough to make your cheeks burn again.

When you looked back up at Aki, he was already watching you, his expression softening into something lighter, something playful. For a second, neither of you said anything, just staring at each other like you couldn't believe what had just happened. Then, almost simultaneously, your eyes darted back to the pillow, and it hit you both at once.

You snorted first, trying to stifle the sound with your hand, but Aki wasn't far behind. His laughter started low, rumbling in his chest, before it grew into something freer, more unrestrained.

"Oh my God," you wheezed, doubling over as the giggles took over, your body shaking with the force of it. "Look at this—how the hell are we gonna clean that up?"

"I'll toss it in tonight, but we'll be sleeping without a pillow tonight" he managed to say between breaths, his voice breaking with laughter. "Oh, shit."

That sent you into another fit of giggles, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you leaned forward, burying your face in his shoulder. "Stop," you gasped, "Don't be a fucking dick."

a/n: there it is!! the chapter i've been busting my ass over. i hope it came out good omg, i feel like its terrible but i be way too hard on myself. i wanted to take some time to let you know that I'm currently writing the Aki fanfic that will replace this one once it's all wrapped up -- you can read the first chapters on my profile, it's called Call Out My Name, and it's about a fake marriage that leads to very real feelings (sorta enemies to lovers but not rlly, aki's just bad at expressing himself lol). I would greatly appreciate it if you could go give it a read!! If you loved Shameless, you'll love that one, too!!! Of course, though, nothing will ever replace Shameless in my heart. I love this story too damn much, and I adore the community I've built up on here. Thank you for all of the love so far!! Comment and let me know what y'all thought of this chapter, and maybe even what you hope to see in future ones!! QOTD: have you streamed Rauw Alejandro's new album? Also, is 69 actually an efficient position? (And why is the answer no).

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

[thewalrusespublicist]

"Tbh I was starting to feel a bit down about my blog and what I was putting out ( the eternal crisis on how to give full answers and opinions without being stupid, boring and annoying lol)"

OMG no way! Your blog is one of the best here! What i love the most is reading the analysis and meta from the users, there's always more information and good takes, and yours are always quite deep and insightful.

I would love if you share your opinions about Stuart as well. I feel like he is obviously more sanctified that he should be since he died young (like that insane quote from his mom saying that Brian told her that Stuart could have been the Beatles' manager, no way lol) and i feel his memory has been used to attack Paul, sometimes in a very unfair way. Like, i don't deny the teenage drama and jealousy that Paul felt about him but he *was* a shitty bass player and the band was Paul's future, he was allowed to criticized him not only for being John's new bestie. I also think John played with them both but i lack of your eloquence so i will love to read your take about it.

Hi anon! And the other anons!

Thank you again and to all the other messages I got, they were extremely sweet and really made my day. :)

From my inbox, it's clear you guys want to know about Stu and his role in the Beatles legacy. Well you asked for it and a novel you shall have. Be warned this might be the longest post I've done so grab like a drink or something.

A few disclaimers: I wish and had intended for this to be more of a deep dive into Stu as a whole person rather than just his relationship with John and Paul. Unfortunately I just didn't have the space to do it. If you want to know more about Stu I would highly recommend @eppysboys' blog which is the source for all things Stu Sutcliffe and where I got a lot of this info. Please check their stuff out. Also, I'm going to be a bit blunter on this than maybe I usually am because this topic has been irritating me for some time. Oh also I’m trying my best to answer a lot of asks in one post so please forgive if I don’t fully answer your specific ask about this!

Stu in a perfect world should be a fandom darling: an exciting cipher, a handsome artistic talent that died way too soon who had a major influence in the early Beatles style. It's like there’s this secret other James Dean looking mf Beatle hidden away to uncover, that's cool and he is cool! The problem is that he’s sort of becomes radioactive to talk about in a normal way due to how he's been portrayed and utilised in some biographies and fandom spaces, particularly those that have been infected by John Lennon aspirational boy bestie syndrome. As those types of spaces cannot seem to exist without tearing down Paul to prop John up as their special lil guy, Stu as John's other best friend has become the ideal heavy object to hit Paul McCartney over the head with. It's like a corrosive element, the minute Stu hits a Beatles bio, the biographer suddenly loses all training in objectivity and source work and starts waxing lyrical about 100 percent reliable never biased or wrong Saint Stu of Hamburg who died for our condom arson sins and that Paul McCartney should feel bad about every day of his life for not worshipping Stu and not accepting his own ‘place’ in life as John's just-some-guy placeholder best friend. I’ve personally seen so many posts and forums where Stu being mentioned leads to a legion of comments about how Paul could never have been Stu (correct both ways) and how John would never have even glanced at Paul for much longer if Stu had been alive. Sidenote: If you seriously think that the musical savant from down the road whom John went on to produce the most prolific song writing partnership in history with couldnt have kept his attention for long then I'm begging you on hands and knees to get your head out of the arse of your John Lennon body pillow and be serious. But anyway…

This boy bestie battle royale approach has in turn lead to a reflex reaction where Stu gets studiously ignored by other sections of the fandom as a precedent has been set that shining a light on him diminishes Paul and John's relationship with Paul. It's frustrating because if people weren't so keen to cut Paul out of his own story then we would get a much better nuanced view of every single person involved.

So let's put aside all of our defenses, cut the John Lennon loved one ranking system bullshit and lets look at the actual question here which is what was John and Stu's relationship really like and what did he mean to John?

John and Stu met at art college a year or so after Paul and John met. Up to that point John and Paul had their fun little codependant thing going on but Stu quickly became a huge fixture in John's life. Stu had things that Paul couldn't really offer at that point in time. John was at his heart a musician who aspired to be seen as an artist (he would later express surprise that he didn't become an artist). Stu was the passionate artist who knew tons about the art of the period that could teach and inspire John. Their creative leanings meant they could work on projects together and share art notebooks and poetry. (Including yes the one with anti-semitic story which I mention again as I believe it's an important thing to remember when it comes to both John and Stu and the culture of the time.) Stuart by the sounds of it was even writing a novel about John at the time of his death. They were fascinated and inspired by each other.

So, creatively they fired each other up but more importantly perhaps, Stu and John were peers. It's funny to think about when you see the Beatles later but at the time Paul and George were the kids in their school uniform coming to see their cool older friend at art school. That's an important divide. When Paul and George's parents insisted their kids do their homework and go to bed, John and Stu could stay up and talk all hours of the night, which they did. They also could rent a place together and spend long hours chatting (despite John moving out later after realising electricity cost money lol.) There's a different dynamic that the age similarity offered as well. Whilst Paul would later somewhat grow into this role, Stu could act as an authority figure to John as well as open up to John in a way you can really only do with your peers. Stu was the person John opened up to throughout Stu's life:

How long can one go on writing and writing like you. I now don’t really know who I’m writing to or why it’s quiet peculiar. I usually write like this and forget about it but if I put it in a little part of my [almost?] secret self in the hands of someone miles away who will wonder what the hell is going on or just pass it off as toilet paper. Anyway I don’t care really what happens because when I think about it, it’s so bloody unimportant – but what is important who has the right to say that this letter is not important and this is a something any way – anyway – anyway – yeah! I wonder what it would be like to be a cretin or something. I bet it’s gear. & how are you keepin Stuart old chap are you as ok – is life as good – bad shite, great – wonderful as it was or is it just a thousand years of nothing and coolness on and on and on. I think this is it Goodbye Stu don’t write out of – er what is it? well not because you think you ought to write when you feel like So goodbye (from John you know the one with glasses) ANYWAY BYE BYE see you soon I don’t know why I said that I remember a time when everyone I loved hated me because I hated them so what so what so fucking what I remember a time when belly buttons were knee high when only shitting was dirty and everything else clean + beautiful I can’t remember anything without a sadness So deep that it hardly becomes known to me so deep that its tears leave me a spectator of my own STUPIDITY + so I go rambling on with a hey nonny nonny nonny no

Extract from a letter to Stuart Sutcliffe from John Lennon, 1961

By lots of accounts Stu was gentle but firm when it came to telling John he'd gone too far. John references this aspect of Stu to Hunter Davies:

"I looked up to Stu. I depended on him to tell me the truth. Stu would tell me if something was good and I'd believe him."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

In this way I kind of see Stu as a proto-Yoko. John was so insecure and uncertain about his grip on the world and reality that he relied on Stu to be his point of reference and guide. Paul did this too later and I think in Hunter Davies John mentions this, but not at this time period and not as much due to their competitiveness. This may be why some people saw Stu as the person that really understood John at this time period:

"During the turbulent adolescence that prefaced a turbulent manhood, hardly anyone knew Lennon as intimately as Stuart Sutcliffe. If they weren't exactly David and Jonathan, June Furlong, one of the life models at Liverpool's Regional College of Art, had "never seen two teenagers as close as those two."

The Gospel According To Lennon by Alan Clayson

Now this person likely never met John and Paul together but this is only one of many similar quotes and even Julia captain of John and Paul's friendship boat seems to agree there was a period where Stu dominated and Paul 'kept his distance' from the John-Cyn-Stu 'menage-a-trois'. But the friendship wasn't perfect and his position as John's ultimate best friend was never iron clad. This is best outlined by the shit they pulled when John convinced him to join on Bass for the Beatles.

Despite being John's best friend, Stu was teased and bullied:

"They argued as usual amongst themselves, but most of all they picked on Stu, the newest member of the group. John, George and Paul had been with each other long enough to know that rows and arguments and criticism didn't mean much. If it did, you just argued back. "We were terrible," says John. "We'd tell Stu he couldn't sit with us, or eat with us. We'd tell him to go away, and he did." At one hotel they stayed at, a variety show had just left. There had been a dwarf in the show and they found out which bed he had slept in and said that would have to be Stu's. They certainly weren't going to sleep in it. So Stu had to. "That was how he learned to be with us," says John. "It was all stupid, but that was what we were like."

The Beatles: The Authorised Biography (Hunter Davies)

Why John encouraged this I have no idea, maybe jealousy over Stu's looks and wanting to play people off each other? Things were tense in both Scotland and Hamburg, especially between Stu and Paul. As I said in my last post, the girls were fighting and it was mutual. Paul was mad for both fair and immature teenage-boy reasons. Stu could not be bothered with the bass most of the time and couldn't really play well and was only there as he was '(John's) best friend' (ouch for Paul). Paul conversely had given up higher education to be there and was sending lots of money back home. He also was dating the girl Paul fancied. Stu was popular with the new group and also did mean things like help John steal Paul's money when money was really tight for him. Paul in turn was a passive aggressive, jealous and mean. It all came to ahead in the punch up onstage which according to Spitz came about from Paul wanting money back and saying that Stu could borrow some from Astrid. Stu goes for him and reports vary from full-on bust up to embarrassing scuffle. Stu then goes to where Astrid and Paul's gf Dot are, demands Dot leaves and goes on a rant about Paul. Now all of this must be framed in the context of Stu receiving increasing brain damage from his condition that seemingly lead to mood swings and anger. Nevertheless, the mutual needling and anger, as well as John's refusal to do/say fuck all about it, especially given how protective John was of Stu, suggests that it wasn’t straightforward and/or John may have been playing some games to make both feel threatened. This would also make sense as to why we hear conflicting accounts of John and Stu being the centre of everything and everyone else in orbit AND John and Paul being the centre and everyone else playing catch-up, as well as John giving Paul the lead to take him round the Reeperbahn when John got dressed in the gorilla costume. (I know Paul may have just been the closest there but that always gave off bestie behaviour to me.)

(I did get an ask about how John and Paul's friendship survived it, I think it was damaged by Hamburg. When Paul got back home he got a job at a construction site and there's just a vibe of everything being a bit on tenterhooks. John also acts a bit weird at the period, not talking to anyone for a few weeks then making a lot of weird demands from Paul. I'm really not sure what to make of it.)

Even when he's back in Liverpool, John still writes long letters to Stu and vice-versa. I can't find it at all but I’ve read a really sad interview with John saying he missed his best mate and it's a shame that he's not with them. He had no idea at that point that Stu had already died of a brain hemorrhage at 21.

John is said to have gone into hysterics when he found out Stu had died. A lot of people who've spoken about this time (Aunt Mimi, his sister Julia, the Exsis) concur that at this point Stu was his best friend and the death shattered him. He even told Astrid he wished he could give his life for Stu’s. This is backed up by the fact that John never forgot Stu and his shadow lingered for the rest of John's life:

Stu was recalled in In My Life

Years later, after John composed the first of his truly poignant and heartfelt Beatles songs, "In My Life"—with its lines about "friends I still can recall/some are dead and some are living"—he revealed to me that the two people he had had uppermost in mind were myself and Stuart Sutcliffe. And then he stunned me with a statement that I'd never heard him address to anyone—least of all to another man. "You know, Pete," he said softly, "I do love you. But," he quickly added, "I loved Stuart as well."

Weird that Paul isn't mentioned surely you think that he would be mentioned if Pete was there too okay, okay my tin hat is going away this isn't the time

Pete Shotton, Nicholas Schaffner, John Lennon: In My Life

In 1965 John drew Stu on a postcard

He apparently said this about Stu prior to sending the postcard, prompted by an article about Stuart.

The card had been sent from Genoa mid-way through the Beatles' Italian tour. [...] But the conversation had become maudlin when I reminded him that he was going to talk to me for an article about Stuart. [...] In that sad telephone conversation before they set off for Milan, I asked him if he was happy: 'I'd be a lot happier if Stuart was still part of us,' he said, 'The Beatles would be complete.' And before he rang off he said 'Ill send you something.'

He also appears on the cover of Sgt Pepper

As mentioned, Stu gets mentioned in Hunter Davies in terms of wistfulness and guilt AND he gets a mention in John's insane 'if I were a homosexual' ramblings in early 70s. According to Yoko, John also wanted Yoko to write letters to him and didn't think it would be strange because Stu wrote letters to him.

I have a pet theory that as with a lot of things for John, his unresolved grief over Stu really came to the fore in the late 60s now that he had actually had a chance to sit down and think about things. I believe it was partially why he wanted Yoko to write letters and why he gets mentioned in the early 70s as a collaborator/best friend and not in 1980 where John only gives that credit to Paul and Yoko. I think with the cracks with Paul, John had started to think back on his old friend and guide and what advice he would give.

Stuarts presence is still felt throughout the seventies:

“He told me everything. He loved to talk about Hamburg. There were no secrets. It was the kind of life I never knew…. It meant total freedom. At his side always was Stuart, sweet Stuart. There wasn’t a time in John’s life when he didn’t think about Stuart. He spoke always of his love and respect for Stuart.”

Yoko discussing Stu in When They Were Boys: The True Story of the Beatles’ Rise to the Top by Larry Kane

Coming to grips with his death is also present in Skywriting

SEAN O’HAIRE: What happened to Stuart Cliff? DR. FISCHY: What happened was a full exchange of energy where it was not needed within the expression of your own self or in the energies involved around and about you. We cannot call it a happening. We’ll say it is an awakening, for in that way it has served an expression from the past to the present and to the future to where there shall be more of that incomplete vibration expressed to you in a more fuller understanding.

Skywriting by Word of Mouth, John Lennon

This isn't exhaustive but I think from all this it's pretty clear that John adored Stu, John grieved Stu and kept grieving Stu. Stu had a specific place in his life as a confidant that he tried to recreate with Yoko. At the time of Stu's death, he was John's best friend, probably slightly over Paul. Stuart had been able to be both a friend and paternal presence, a confidant and an artistic collaborator. His presence and loss was one of the foundational points in John's life.

But as we've been asked to play this stupid game and so many bios like to make a hoopla about it, were they at their closest ever as close as John and Paul were at their height?

No.

How do we know? Because John told us so:

" He [Paul] still is the closest friend I've ever had, except for Yoko, so I'm still close to him whatever goes on."

John Lennon to an interviewer, 1971

But Walrus! John just says shit! How do we know he isn't leaving out Stu because the press don't know Stu. Well true John does just say shit but this is at a time where John isn't the most glowing about Paul and he's had no problem mentioning Stu in this time period ('one of my best friends ever' would have made a similar point).

But Walrus again! If John picked Stu over Paul when they were young why wouldn't he be the boy bestie of all time, and why would John say that he was closer to Paul? Well, because of the environment and timings. Stu's death happened near the beginning of John and Paul's major bonding moments. If you look at their personal timeline, Paris, the Nerk twins, and getting signed happened just before Stu died. That's missing the major years of Beatlemania, Key West, LSD, Paul growing more into being John's peer and a load of other huge moments in their lives. It's like how John writes to Cyn in 1962 about wanting the house to themselves and not have Paul around all the time. Would you say because he feels closer to Cyn then that John in his overall lifetime loved Cyn more than Paul? No, because relationships change over time and theirs were no exception. (One thing to consider as well is that we don't yet have many letters between John and Paul during their Beatles years and earlier, probably because they were spending so much time with each other. We know a couple exist that Paul considers too personal for publication but I'm sure there are others. It's easy to understand what John felt for Stu as we have the letters, I think we would also have an easier time understanding what John felt for Paul if we had the equivalent of those.)

At the end of the day Paul was the man he believed he had a psychic bond with, the man he couldn’t shut up about, the man whom he’d conquered the world with with their endless collaboration, the man with a twin personality to him and according to John spent more time with throughout the 60s than he had with Yoko ever. To be frank if Paul had died in 67' I don't think this would have been a conversation.

As mentioned early, in early 1970s John elevates his partnership with Stu to his collaborations with Paul and Yoko but by 1980 he’s pretty clear that Paul and Yoko are their own category.

"I was saying to somebody the other day, “There’s only two artists I’ve ever worked with for more than a one night stand, as it were. That’s Paul McCartney, and Yoko Ono.” And I think that’s a pretty damned good choice!!"

John Lennon interview with DJ Dave Sholin, 1980

There are of course the what ifs. Would Stu still being alive mean that John was not as close with Paul? Maybe, highly doubtful though as the Beatles experience was so intense. If Stu remained a Beatle would John be as close with Paul? If Stu remained a Beatle he wouldn't be Stu so no. At the same time who knows what it would have been like if Paul and John were peers from the off? I said this to @the62ndbugsfan when it comes to Stu vs Paul (hi girl sorry i've made our chat a whole ass post lol) but to go a bit Wuthering Heights, soulmates are made as much from the earth as they are of the stars. What binds us is our experiences just as much as our personalities. There may be a universe where Stu and John took on the art world together or became inseparable bffs again after the Beatles disbanded, but it is not our universe. In this universe Stu tragically died and John and Paul chose to become Lennon/McCartney and artistically unite themselves forever.

Even going back to Stu's lifetime, I've said it before and I'll say it again I find it interesting that not only did John choose to go to Paris with Paul rather than pay to meet up with Stu somewhere but that they arranged to meet up with Juergen and nobody told Stu until they'd already gone. Stu was shocked and didn't know if it meant the end of the Beatles which is a pretty big thing for him not to know about. Why didn't John tell him if they're apparently still writing long letters? Was it because he really wanted to do this with Paul and didn't want to hurt Stu's feelings? And that's really the point I want to make here. Due to his trauma John was preoccupied with reinforcing ranking of relationships within his life. But the thing is friendship rankings are made up guidelines and the reality is far more complicated. You can have a designated best friend but feel closer to another friend at times, you can want to do one thing specifically with one friend and not the other for various reasons. You can (as I do) have more than one equal best friend. Friendship as with most relationships are in a constant state of flux and each friendship you have will give and mean a different thing, even if they are of similar value to you.

Paul may have ended up closer to John than Stu had been, but that doesen't make John's relationship with Stu any less special. Nor does Stu negate the significance of Paul. Whilst both fit into John's pattern of intense relationships and demands related to that, both had unique positions and meaning to him. Considering what I've gone into about John's closeness to Stu, it actually says something deeply, borderline unnervingly, intense about John and Paul that Paul pipped Stu to the post. Maybe it's time Beatles bios accept the fact that John Lennon just wouldn't be into them like that, stop using a tragically prematurely deceased young man as a prop in their jealous psychological warfare against Paul McCartney, stop perpetuating one of the most damaging games that John did to his loved ones and allow both relationships the space to shine and showcase the amazing talent that was the Beatles and those that surrounded them.

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Suites & Sweets

freshman year at Jujutsu University Tokyo seems like it will be uneventful. and, well, that's true... until you meet the boys in the suite across the hall, and one in particular piques your interest.

satoru gojo x reader | jjk college au | no curse au | fem! reader | fluff, angst, & slow burn | SMAU & writing <3

introduction | previous | next

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

ˋ°•*⁀➷˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 25. 𝓣𝓗𝓔 𝓣𝓐𝓛𝓚 ⍣ ೋ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ... wc: 3.9k

You wiggle the doorknob of 12B behind you, ensuring it's locked before taking one step across the hall and knocking on the door of Suite 12A. It doesn’t take long for the door to swing open, revealing Satoru in his usual laid-back ensemble: grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips and a baggy black crewneck.

He leans against the doorframe with that signature lopsided grin of his, gesturing you inside with a dramatic flourish. “Welcome in, your majesty. To what occasion do I owe the honor of this late-night visit?”

You roll your eyes and scoff, but scoot around him and step inside anyway, the soft click of the door shutting behind you sounding loud in the quiet of the suite. The dimly lit living area feels sleepy, the glow from a single lamp in the corner casting long, lazy shadows. You’re surprised by how quiet it is; there are no sounds of laughter, no late-night snacking in the kitchen, no signs of life at all.

“It’s only eleven,” you muse aloud, slipping off your shoes and aligning them with the other pairs at the entrance. “Where even is everyone?”

“Being boring,” Satoru groans, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his sweats. “Kento’s probably doing homework in the library or whatever responsible people do. The other two...” He pauses, tilting his head as if searching his memory. "Something with Choso, I think? Maybe smoking? I know Yu was invited and Suguru tagged along."

He shrugs nonchalantly, though the faintest hint of a smirk dances on his lips. “Which means it’s just you and me. Lucky you.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you look at Satoru. “Lucky me, huh?”

“Of course,” he quips, spinning on his heel to lead you down the hallway. “An uninterrupted evening with yours truly? What more could you ask for?”

"I could think of a few things," you tease.

"Hey!" he whines, and you giggle at his antics. Satoru throws a playful pout at you, but it’s quickly replaced by that signature grin, the one that always makes your heart trip over itself. "I'm hurt. Here I am, offering my time and charm, and you’re already thinking of alternatives?"

“Don’t take it so personally, Toru,” you say with a smirk, falling into step beside him. The familiar teasing cadence between you feels comforting, yet tonight it carries an undercurrent of something else you feel in the way your pulse quickens whenever his gaze lingers on you.

Does he feel it too?

Satoru opens the door to his room with a flourish, stepping aside to let you in first. “Well, I’m choosing to ignore the sting of that comment because I’m generous like that.”

You laugh at the ridiculous statement, then enter his room and inquire, "When will they be back?" Since it's a Thursday night, they will need to go to class tomorrow, and you wouldn't want to be a bother. You've been feeling guilty for spending so much time in their suite lately, and as you take a seat at the foot of his bed, you feel even worse for taking up so much of Satoru's time he could be spending with his friends, not with you dragging him down to your personal pity parties.

"Hmm," he contemplates. "Nanami will probably be a while since the library is open all night. The other two were gonna crash at Choso's." Satoru walks in behind you, and in one fluid motion, swings the door shut behind him. He glances at you, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips. "Why? You want me all to yourself or something?"

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. "Don’t flatter yourself, Toru."

His smirk only deepens at the nickname, a playful glint flashing in his eyes. "Too late," he quips, plopping beside you onto his bed without a shred of grace. He sprawls out across the blankets, one arm tucked behind his head, as if daring you to contradict him further.

You shake your head, but the corner of your lips twitch upward despite yourself. There’s something about Satoru’s ability to simultaneously infuriate and amuse you that you’ve never been able to resist.

“On a real note, though,” he says after a beat, his tone softening just slightly as he tilts his head to look at you. “You okay?"

You cross your legs and angle yourself to have a better view of Satoru laying beside you. "Mhm," you brush off his concern. "Why?"

"Jus' checking in," he hums, sitting up and moving so he's closer to you. “You seem nervous.” 

His eyes stare practically into your soul with how intensely he is scanning you. You look fondly back at him, but the words you wish to say feel stuck in your throat, heavy and impossible to untangle. Your mouth twists as your mind wanders. 

It's been a few weeks since everything with Naoya happened at the frat. You're back to feeling like yourself, but the visits to Satoru's room or him crashing your own has become such a routine, you find yourself looking forward to falling asleep in his arms and getting butterflies when you wake up to him pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

Obviously, you've been aware of your feelings for Satoru for a while now, but it never felt like the right timing. Plus, you've been so anxious of whatever Naoya seems to be planning. Your mental state was in such a frenzy for a bit, if you didn't have Satoru by your side, you're sure you wouldn't have even gotten up to use the restroom.

The past two weeks, with the help of Choso's concert, the world has regained it's color. The grey overcast that affected your vision and mind lifted, and the world was back to it's vibrant shades of red, green, and a cerulean shade of blue - the same color as the eyes that look at you so tenderly as Satoru talks to you now, lips moving but the words not processing in your head.

A sudden thought crosses your mind: Is he not upset for missing out the hangout with Choso because of you? Even if you only asked to come over a handful of minutes ago, it's been a routine lately to do so. Did he opt out of being with his friends because he was expecting you to invade his space once more? You've been intruding his life so much lately, you worry if he finds you annoying or secretly hates you or pities everything that happened to you.

No. You can't think that way. You're friends all tease you about him - they see it, too. If they thought there was no chance, they would never have encouraged you to make a complete fool of yourself after everything they've seen you go through.

What if he rejects you, though? Would you be able to handle that? You know you aren't the shell of yourself you allowed him to see after Naoya drained your spirits, but you're still rather sensitive emotionally. Worst comes to worst, could you even handle it? What if-

Your ears pick up on your name being repeated, and you turn to look at the boy who invades every thought in your head. He’s sitting up now, legs crossed and leaning close to you. ”Angel? You here with me?"

"Yeah," you mutter, sounding much more uncertain than you intended for it to be. "Sorry."

Satoru shakes his head at your apology, studying you with a look of concern as his gaze softens. He takes a deep breath, then speaks, "You got nothing to apologize for, mkay?" He reaches out, resting a hand lightly on yours. "I just wanna be there for you, baby. When you space out like that, I can't help but wanna hear what's going on up that head of yours.” His other hand pokes the side of your head, and a giggle escapes you. “What’s got you all anxious?”

You take a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart. With a heavy exhale, you respond,  “I guess I have something on my mind I need to get off my chest.”

He sits up more, propping himself on his elbows as he leans in, giving you his full attention. He crosses his legs to sit more comfortably. “Well, I’m all ears,” he says softly, his voice no longer teasing, but warm and patient.

You fidget slightly, your hands twisting the fabric of your sleeve, unsure of how to begin. The words feel heavy in your chest, and for a moment, you think about pushing them back down, retreating to the safety of the familiar silence between you.

You take a breath, the words finally bubbling to the surface, and they spill out before you can stop them. “I’ve been thinking a lot about… us."

You risk a glance up at him, and his expression remains unreadable, but the tension in his posture is gone, replaced with that soft, reassuring energy that makes your heart thrum faster than you'd like to admit. You quickly turn to stare at the end of your sleeve.

“Us?” His tone is gentle, concerned. Satoru takes his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. It serves as motivation for you to continue. 

“Yeah, I…” you stare at the hand laced with your own, memorizing the shape of the fingers curling around yours. “I know you’re aware I’ve been…struggling, I guess. And you’ve really been a rock for me this whole time. Thank you, by the way.”

“I’m glad I could help somehow,” he says, squeezing your hand firmly, encouraging you in your moment of vulnerability. “Happy to, really.” 

You smile, but it doesn’t last long. “I feel guilty for leaning on you so much. You’ve been so patient and understanding. I know I’ve been a lot to handle, but you’ve taken such good care of me.”

Satoru’s brows furrow, and he leans in closer, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly. “Hey,” he says firmly, his tone soft but insistent. “That’s what people do for the ones they care about. And I care about you. Y’know that, right?”

“Yeah, I know. I care about you, too,” you respond, face feeling warm. You turn away from him, finding the wall really interesting all of the sudden. “I’ve been so scared of you getting tired of me. Every bone in my body is telling me to stay away to avoid getting hurt again, but I just can’t get enough of you. I feel safe with you. I trust you, and I can’t keep ignoring how much you mean to me, Satoru.”

Satoru’s lips part slightly, and for a moment, he looks almost surprised, but the expression quickly shifts into something softer, more vulnerable. He tilts his head, his gaze never leaving yours. “Sweets, listen to me,” he says, his voice steady but laced with emotion. His thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles. “I will never get tired of you. You could show up at my door every single day for the rest of forever, and I’d still open it like it’s the best part of my day. because you are the best part of my day.” His voice softens, his words carrying a weight that makes your chest ache. “I care about you, not out of pity or obligation, but because you’re you. You’re the light of my life, angel. I want to be here, not just for the hard parts but for everything. You mean the world to me. I’m not letting anything happen to you anytime soon, ‘kay?"

You stare into the eyes of the boy you are absolutely enamored with. Your eyes are watery, tears threatening to fall. “You really mean all of that? You’re not just saying it?” You can’t help but be hesitant to believe him. 

“I’ll say it to you a million times and mean it just as much.” He brings your intertwined hands to his chest. “I mean every word I say. Could never lie to you.” 

You squeeze his hand tightly, pouring all the things you can’t find the words to articulate into it. Satoru's chest rises and falls with each breath, and you feel the steady beat of his heart under your palm. It’s like everything is slowing down, and for a brief, perfect moment, it’s just the two of you in this space, a bubble that no one else can penetrate.

“I know you’re scared, baby,” Satoru’s voice is soft as he confesses. “New things like this tend to be. Honestly, I am too. Knowing me, I’ll mess something up - piss you off too much or something, do something stupid that gets me in trouble. As much as it pains me to say, I’m not perfect. I’m gonna make mistakes, but I don’t wanna hold back just ‘cause of that.”

Suddenly, you pull back, realizing your faces closer than you realized. You understand what he’s saying, but you’re getting tired of tiptoeing around what you really want to ask him. So, with furrowed brows, you ask the question you’ve wanted to for a while now: 

“What is ‘this’ though, Satoru?”

Satoru freezes for a moment, as if your question caught him off guard. The easy smile he’s been wearing falters just a bit, replaced by a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. He tilts his head slightly, his hand still holding yours, but his other reaches up, running through his hair in a gesture of hesitation.

For a moment, he doesn't say anything. His eyes search yours, as if trying to find the right words—words that seem so simple, yet so tangled in the air between you.

“This?” he asks. 

“This. What are we? Because we aren’t just friends, that’s for sure,” you say, and with a newfound confidence, you continue on. “We’re something more, but I need to know what that is. What are you asking me for? What’s happening here? What do you even think of me?”

The words hang in the air between you, and for a brief moment, Satoru looks almost stunned. His eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes, and there's a tension in the way he holds your hand - it’s as though he's afraid of saying the wrong thing but also knows he can’t keep dancing around it either.

Satoru takes a deep breath, his chest rising as he seems to gather his thoughts. He shifts slightly, his thumb absently stroking the back of your hand, a soft touch that gives you comfort but also heightens the tension between you. He looks at you intently, like he's seeing you with new eyes full of emotion and vulnerability, the kind you’ve never quite seen in him before.

"You wanna know what I think?" he asks, his voice quiet but certain, as if he's weighing the question carefully, savoring the moment. You can feel his pulse, steady and strong, through the hand that's holding yours, and it brings you back to reality, the moment you’re in.

You nod, your heart pounding louder now that the question’s out there, and there's no going back. "Yeah," you breathe out, the simple word carrying all the weight of everything you've been holding back. "Please."

Satoru shifts slightly, still keeping his focus on you, his thumb still tracing a light pattern over your knuckles. His smile widens just a fraction, and you can see the playfulness return to his eyes, but it’s different - gentler, warmer, more sincere. “I think," he begins, his tone shifting into that familiar teasing one, but there's a softness there that makes your heart flutter, “you are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.” 

His free hand moves to cup your cheek. “I think you’re so, so strong. I think, even though I know we've only been in each other's lives for a couple months now, you've quickly become my favorite person to be around. I think that you’re caring, even to those who don’t deserve your care. I think you have the cutest laugh, the best smile.” His eyes don’t leave yours once as he speaks, and you feel yourself leaning up towards him. 

“Now, do you want to hear what I know?” As you nod, his thumb swipes tear you didn’t know fell. “I know I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I know there’s something between us. I know you feel it, too.” His eyes fill with uncertainty as he looks down at you.“Right?” You smile in response, unable to form the words to affirm his question. He seems to understand what you're saying, his eyes again brewing with some new conviction.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what this is, too,” he admits, his voice softer than it’s ever been. There’s no playful tease in his tone now, no flippancy. It's just raw, real. “Because you’re right, we’re not just friends, but I didn’t want to assume things or make you feel pressured. I’ve been trying to let you lead the way with what you’re comfortable with.” He shakes his head, leaning closer to close space between you, resting his forehead against yours. “But fuck, baby... I don’t know what this is either.” His fingers tighten slightly around yours; an anchor. “All I know is I want you.”

Blue eyes looks at yours thoughtfully. He moves a strand of hair out of your eye, tucking it behind your ear. “I’m not gonna push you to do anything you’re not ready for. We can take things slow, if it helps. Whatever pace feels right for you, that’s what I’ll follow,” he says, his voice steady, filled with care and patience. He leans in, his breath warm against your cheek, and for a second, you think he might kiss you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls back just slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation or doubt. You find yourself disappointed he backed away, frustrated at the newly formed space between you two. 

“We don’t have into rush anything. I don’t want you to feel like a new relationship is something you have to force yourself into,” he continues, his voice soft, almost like a promise. “We’ll take it one step at a time. I’ll be patient. Just… tell me what you need, and I’ll do my best to give it to you.”

Your heart feels like it might burst from the weight of his words, and you can’t help the soft smile that curls your lips. The reassurance, the tenderness, the way he’s been patient with you this whole time—it all feels like a beautiful thing you're afraid to touch, but it’s right there, waiting for you.

“I’ve told you what I think,” Satoru hums. “What do you think?” 

“I think,” you begin, smile turning into a mischievous smirk, “you should kiss me.”

“Is that so?” he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing whisper that makes your pulse quicken. He’s so close now, his presence overwhelming in the best way possible. “You sure about that, sweets?”

Your breath hitches as you nod, your heart pounding in your chest, but there’s no more hesitation. No more second-guessing. You’re done playing it safe. You want this. You want him.

“I’m sure,” you reply, your voice almost a breathless challenge. The tension in the air is thick, crackling with the promise of something inevitable, something you both know is coming.

Satoru’s smile softens, and in one smooth motion, he closes the distance between you. His lips meet yours in a kiss that’s slow at first - tentative, testing the waters. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to deepen, both of you giving into the pull between you, the emotions that have been building for so long.

Satoru pulls back just slightly, his breath warm against your lips. “You taste so sweet, angel,” he mutters, his voice low, barely audible, like a secret meant just for you. His forehead rests against yours again, his breath shaky now. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this.”

Your heart skips a beat, your body flush against his, feeling his heartbeat echo yours. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, as though saying the words aloud will make everything real.

He chuckles softly, but there’s a hint of nervousness in it, a rare vulnerability that you don’t often see from him. “I’ve been thirsting over you in your comment section for a month now… I haven’t exactly not said anything.”

You let out a soft laugh, the warmth of it mixing with the heat rising in your chest. The teasing tone in his voice is so familiar, yet this moment feels unlike anything that’s come before. It’s real. It’s raw. It’s you and him, and for the first time, you feel no fear of what might come next. “Yeah, I guess you’re not the most subtle. The girls even said something about it.”

Satoru’s lips quirk into a smile, but there’s a touch of mischief in his eyes. He brushes his thumb gently across your cheek, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than it needs to. “I just wanted to do this the right way, angel. I wanted to be patient, give you space, let you come to me when you were ready.” He shrugs. “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t dying to kiss you every time you smiled at me. Or I was gonna pass up the chance to let you know you look good.”

The sincerity in his words hits you deep, and you feel a swell of affection, of something even deeper—something you’ve been craving for so long without knowing it. You want this. You want him.

And it’s all so real now, nothing holding you back; everything is out in the open.

Satoru leans in again, his lips brushing yours with a gentleness that contrasts the intensity of his words. He deepens the kiss, this time with more certainty, as if it’s not just a kiss, but a promise.

You respond eagerly, hands moving to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Everything else falls away in the warmth of his touch, the softness of his lips, the way his body molds to yours.

When he pulls back again, his eyes are dark with something unspoken, something you both know but haven’t yet named. His forehead rests against yours, and for a long moment, the two of you simply breathe, your lips still humming from the kiss.

“You’re positive this is okay, right?” he asks quietly, his voice laced with the same tenderness he’s been offering you all this time.

You smile, feeling your heart swell with something soft and steady. “Yes, Satoru,” you murmur, gazing up at him with more certainty than you’ve ever felt. “I’m positive.”

Satoru exhales, as if a weight has been lifted from his chest, and he leans in to kiss you again, slower this time, savoring every moment. It’s not rushed, it’s not about urgency or need; it’s about the quiet, unspoken connection between you two, the foundation you’re both building together, step by slow, steady step.

And when you pull away once more, the air around you feels different. Lighter. Brighter. And somehow, you know this is just the beginning of something incredible. Something worth every step, every hesitation, every moment of uncertainty that led to now.

You can’t wait to tell Shoko everything.  

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

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@fallingpinkstars

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

THIS MAKES ME ASO HAPPY

[theemeraldforestafterdark]

I don't know where to begin. I don't know how to begin.

I was thinking when I woke up that these blogs, in an ideal world would contain: my writing (fiction), text posts about stuff that isn't about me, my photography (with a new camera) and lots of themed reblogs. There'd be far less of posts like this. Which am beyond tired of writing. They're never made for attention or any of that, rather that they come from a place of sheer frustration. Especially in the wake of realising why everything is the way it is over the past 5-6 years. I'm just not happy and not content and haven't ever been free from those which have derailed me so severely. The constant year in year out anxiety is increasing and I'm getting more and more worn down. I am well and truly stuck. Any life I did have, scattered lightly through my time on earth, feels like it's ended, and yet I'm still here.

How do you even begin when the world is falling apart like it is, too. I don't think I'd get the right treatment from professionals at this point, because it spans my entire life, not just medical, but everything. Every part of me needs sorting out and untangling. I've lost years and years and years not realising what was going on. I kind of miss when I thought it was all on me and not really knowing the true reasons.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[tlou-obsessed]

Joel looking at Ellie like she hung up the moon

[simcardiac-arrested]

wait, that elias?

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

[ghostofsnails]

so did you guys know theres this character called tristan vik disventure camp and

[cluescorner]

I gave myself a writing challenge and I am fascinated by it

So basically I put the robins in a randomizer to give them a new order/role (because I just...kinda wanted to see what would happen + I like role-reversal AUs) and got results that are giving me a fucking brain blast.

Stephanie, the first sidekick who defines the role

Tim, the sidekick who dies and comes back wrong

Dick, the sidekick who saves Batman from himself

Damian, the sidekick who was never supposed to be a sidekick but would go on to prove everyone wrong

Jason, the youngest sidekick who is still the Kid Wonder

...So this is fucking wild. I've got some ideas and several of these fit perfectly (Dick's role is pretty similar to his one in canon), but some of these are fucking INCREDIBLE to explore (Steph being the first Robin is something I never even considered but tbh I kinda love it).

I probably won't write a fic or anything because tbh I don't like publishing my writing that much, but I might expand this into a full AU and post about it. I might randomize other stuff too (ie, stuff that I cannot change vs stuff that I cannot keep the same) but this fucking rules as a starting point.