#but had to put this in a list for fic reasons

[azzibuckets]

reputation, or, all the ways i’ve loved you

or, love is immature and heady and new and blissful and hard and exhausting and it might kill you but in the end—love endures.

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: paige and azzi in various stages of love, as told through reputation by taylor swift

a/n: as a celebration for 3k followers, here’s my longest fic yet! don’t know if this style is for me so we’ll see if i ever write a long one again lol. nevertheless, i hope you guys enjoy :)

word count: 9k

masterlist | oneshots masterlist

⋆⑅˚₊ i. dancing with our hands tied - i loved you in secret / first sight, yeah, we love without reason

July 2018

Out of all the things Azzi Fudd expected her father to do after telling him the big news, laughing was probably last on the list. Actually, scratch that — it wasn’t even on the list to begin with, because what kind of father takes their child’s health as a joke? Certainly not Tim, who’s forced Azzi to take her daily vitamin gummies for as long as she can remember, the nasty ones that taste too sour to resemble the Trolli eggs they’re supposed to be a dupe of.

But here is Tim Fudd, the man who raised her, lines crinkling around his eyes as he guffaws so loud he starts pounding his own chest. Azzi would be worried for his lack of oxygen if she wasn’t so incredulously offended. “Dad? Did you hear what I said?”

“Oh, I heard you.” Tim pauses to take a breath before starting to laugh again, tears slowly beginning to form at the corner of his eyes.

“What’s so funny, then?” Azzi questions snarkily, hands on her hips in the perfect pose of sassy teenage indignance.

“Azzi, honey.” Tim straightens up as his breathing ebbs back to normal. He moves to place a comforting hand on Azzi’s shoulder, but she jerks away, not at all in the mood for his antics. “You’re not sick,” he says gently. “I think you might have something else.”

Azzi wrinkles her nose, running through all the meticulous shelves of research stored in her mind. She’d gone through every possibility on the Internet, taking methodical notes on every potential disorder, anamoly, or illness that could be afflicting her body. She'd been pretty sure she’d scoured them all, but maybe she had missed something in her overzealousness. “You’re saying I didn’t get a hypoglycemic episode?”

“Sweetie, do you even know what hypoglycemic means?”

Azzi opens her mouth to answer, wanting to say that she does, in fact, know that hypoglycemia is an indicator of low glucose levels in the blood, and that if left untreated, her bodily functions will not have enough energy to continue, and her organs will fail, and she will die a long and painful death, and her understanding of the word hypoglycemic makes it all the more astounding as to why her dad won't take her illness seriously, but before she can can even begin her tirade, her dad winces and puts up a palm. “Actually, never mind. I don’t want to hear all about your self diagnosis, as funny as it is.”

“It’s not a self diagnosis if everyone on the Internet says I have all the symptoms of hypoglycemia!” Azzi argues, but even she knows the argument is weak.

Tim massages his forehead, lips twitching with the exertion of holding back a second round of laughter. “And what did you say your symptoms were again, hon?”

“Excessive sweating, even when I’m like, standing still and it’s 60 degrees out. And dizziness. And my fingers start to shake sometimes! Difficulty concentrating, and tingling lips.” Azzi lists them out on her fingers, smiling triumphantly when she’s finished. Take that, Dad.

“Mm.” Tim rubs his chin in thought. “And when exactly do you experience these symptoms?”

“Well, the last time I can remember is when I was hanging out with Paige at Grandma’s on Wednesday.”

Tim coughs into his arm, loud, and it sounds suspiciously like a wheeze. Azzi squints at him, suspicion written across her face. After recovering, he prods, “Do you remember any of the other times this has happened?”

“I don’t know, I can’t think specifically. It happens a lot. Umm…” Azzi thinks back. “Maybe last week, at the fair? I’m trying to remember.” She closes her eyes, trying to prompt memories of that airy feeling in her head, the rollercoaster in her tummy, the buzz in her chest that had started the car ride over to the fair, right around when they’d picked Paige and her brother up.

It had gotten increasingly worse as the day went on, peaking during the afternoon when they’d been on the bumper cars. She’d been squished into the same car as Paige, the car offering only a very small seat to service two basketball players suffering from summer growth spurts, all long limbs and awkward lank. As a result, the sides of their feet and thighs and arms had been touching and overlapping—Paige almost fell into Azzi’s lap when Jose crashed into them especially hard, golden hair spilling across Azzi’s face and pale hands landing on her thighs. She remembers the smell of fruity shampoo and the feeling of feathery strands tickling her cheeks making her even dizzier than bumper car itself, her nerve endings lighting up, every point on her skin ultra sensitive as sweat had started to pool in her armpits and in the palms of her head. And when Paige's palms had rubbed up and down on her thighs — God. She'd almost died.

Azzi shudders at the memory and opens her eyes. “Yeah, definitely at the fair.”

“The fair?” Tim cocks an eyebrow. “You mean, the fair we went to last week?”

“Yes, Dad, that’s what I said,” Azzi responds, growing increasingly frustrated.

“The fair we went to with Paige and Drew?”

“Yeah.” Azzi crosses her arms in defiance. “Is that supposed to be relevant?”

Tim makes an unncommital sound in his throat. “So you’re saying you don’t get any of these symptoms, say, at home?“

“Well…” Azzi purses her lips. “I guess recently I've been having difficulty concentrating all the time. Wherever I’m like, at home or school or whatever.”

“What makes it hard to concentrate?” Tim cocks his head in genuine curiosity. “What’re you thinking about?”

Azzi doesn’t have a ready answer. What does she think about? She tries to draw from her memory again, but gets distracted by the sort of hilarious, muddled irony of trying to think about what’re you usually thinking about. Then she realizes she’s making an expression again, the expression Paige has coined as her “thinky face” whenever she’s trying really hard to work out a homework problem or come up with an outfit to wear. The first time Paige had mentioned it, Azzi had frowned at her. “I don’t have a thinky face,” she’d replied.

“Oh, you totally do,” Paige said, glee written across her face — her typical attitude whenever she gets to argue with Azzi about something and be right.

“No, I don’t,” Azzi argued, but she’s already accepted that it’s a useless fight. It always is with Paige, who's stubborn and hard-headed and so much like Azzi that she looks at her best friend sometimes and think she's found her soulmate. Platonic soulmate, of course.

Paige smirked at her. “Azzi Fudd so has a thinky face.” She leaned in closer, so close that Azzi could see the glimmer in the deep blue of her eyes and the way her long lashes fluttered. “It’s okay, though, I think it’s pretty cute.” Then she’d pulled back and started talking about some stupid NBA game she’d watched recently, a topic Azzi usually tuned out anyways but this time especially didn’t pay any attention to because she was too disarmed by the fact that Paige had just called her cute. It shouldn’t have felt weird; her friends at school and her teammates called her beautiful and cute and adjectives much more crazy all the time, but still. There again went that same dry feeling in her throat.

“Azzi?”

Azzi blinks as she’s pulled back to the present. “Huh?”

“Maybe you are really sick.” Tim sends her a weary look. “But I just asked you what you usually think about, remember? Do you have an answer?”

“No." Azzi shakes her head grimly. "I couldn’t remember.”

Tim is the one to squint in disbelief this time. “Honey, what were you just thinking about? That’s probably it.”

“Oh, Paige? I was thinking about something she told me the other day. But it’s nothing. Before I was trying to remember, but I couldn’t think—" She’s cut off with an uncomfortable realization that’s starting to dawn in her as a very, very large pit balloons in the bottom of her tummy and begins to ache.

And at the same time this horrible understanding is beginning to come to light in the back of Azzi’s brain, Jose stands up from where he’d been sitting on the couch, watching TV. “You’re stupid, Azzi,” he snickers as he walks by them to grab a snack. “I’m only twelve and even I know you’re not sick.”

“Shut up, Jose,” Azzi replies back angrily, still staring at her hands — the very same hands that had held Paige's, and trembled and moistened in sweaty nervousness. No.

Jose, her little twerp of a brother, sticks his tongue out. “Your lips aren’t tingling from hypoguyseema, dummy.”

“Hypoglycemia,” Tim supplies unhelpfully.

“Your lips are tingling because you wanna make out with Paigey.” And the words don’t really register in Azzi’s heads, not right away at least, she honestly only reaches out to slap Jose from her instinctive, older sisterly awareness that he's being an annoying smart ass like usual, but still he runs away, out of her grasp, singing obnoxiously at the top of his lungs, “Paige and Azzi sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-"

“Shut up, Jose!” She picks up a pillow from the couch and chucks it at him, narrowly missing his retreating figure and instead hitting a vase that slowly toddles in places before falling to the ground with a dramatic crash.

“Azzi, you know we don’t throw things in the house for a reason,” Tim reprimands, exasperated at the childish scene in front of him, but when he turns to look at his daughter, her head is in her hands and her shoulders are shaking.

Tim has loved Azzi since he’s met her as a bumbling little toddler who instantly attached to his hip. He knows Azzi is sweet and sensitive and soft, a girl who has the gift of easily picking up on others' emotions but also is vulnerable to having her own shaken up. So he bites his tongue and makes a mental note to resolve the sibling conflict later. Right now, his daughter needs him; without a word, he collects Azzi into his arms and lets her tears fall on his shirt sleeve.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” and he doesn’t have to say anything else for Azzi to understand he’s not just talking about now — that this shocking and indescribable feeling that Azzi has only been able to name now, is okay, that Azzi, for who she is, is okay.

And yes, Azzi is able to name the feeling, but yet she buries it under her skin. Just because she realizes she has a crush on Paige doesn’t mean she has to act like it — and it especially doesn’t mean Paige, who definitely doesn't like her like that, has to know, she reminds herself.

And although the "illness" never goes away, although she never stops being nervous, and her fingers never stop trembling at least a little when Paige kisses her goodbye on the cheek, Azzi becomes really good at acting. Really good. At first, she couldn't sleep at night, overwrought with anxiety because no matter how good she became at pretending, Jose and her family have never been the best at keeping secrets. But she finds a way to control it definitely not by threatening to take away and sell her brother’s gaming console if she ever hears a peep about how much she damningly wants to kiss Paige, and time passes, and Azzi turns 17, and it’s been two years of knowing Paige, and she thinks that she might be a little bit in love at this point.

She knows how her crush started: an infatuation at camp, impressed by the white girl's agility and speed on the court, the ease and practiced experience with which she directed the team on the court, turning them from a group of girls who'd never played together before into one that worked the ball seamlessly to a gold medal. Of course, in the very beginning, she'd always been hyper-aware of the fact that Paige was just so pretty, a mischievous smirk ever present on pretty pink lips that looked too soft, eyes always bright and hair, even when messy, like a halo around her face.

Then Paige had decided to come into Azzi’s life and do things like go with her family to the fair, and the infatuation had turned into something closely resembling love. And it's not like there weren't many other things that made Azzi fall so fast and so dangerously, like how kind Paige was to the JV girls on her high school team even when they could barely shoot free throws, to the way she was so freely open about her adoration for Azzi, always having to saying something about good she thought Azzi looked.

It was safe to say that Paige had wormed her way into her team then her life then her family then her heart, settling in there like it was home and she’d always belonged there. Paige was someone who could make her laugh, but was always up to talk about serious things, and also was just so sweet to Azzi. Azzi had never met someone who had been all of those things, and now she was positively enthralled. So, even at age 15, even at age 16, and 17, Azzi is completely and utterly fucked.

⋆⑅˚₊ ii. dress - all of this silence and patience / pining in anticipation

April 2019

Azzi hadn’t planned on going to prom.

It was only her junior prom, anyways, and it happened to be the same time Paige was coming to visit, which meant she was going to be booked and busy. Her friends had pushed her to go, but how could she tell them she’d rather be with Paige, playing 1v1 in an empty gym where they always guarded a little too close, hands fisting shirts, always with. heavy breaths into the back’s of each other’s necks and fingers skimming palms?

But then James had made her a poster, standing at her front door with a big smile on his face and flowers in one hand. And she hadn't wanted to hurt his feelings, and what did she have to lose? James was nice, and cute enough. His hands were soft and Azzi didn’t mind holding them.

Which is how Azzi finds herself at the Lincoln Memorial, walking painstakingly up the steps in her tight heels. Her mom had gotten a makeup artist to come doll her up, and it’s her first time wearing eyeliner, or any eye makeup at all. She thinks she could get used to this smoky look, the way her lashes look full and dark. It’s not often she gets to express her feminine side, with basketball taking almost all of her waking minutes - she hasn’t ever gone to homecoming or any other dance, and sweats and her shirts are typically her go to outfit. So she admits that this wasn’t a terrible idea, to get dressed up and pretty for once. It certainly helped being able to watch Paige’s reaction (all blushes and wide eyes, thank you very much) when she’d stepped out of the bathroom, glimmering and gilded in a shiny dress that slotted open to show the rich brown of her thigh.

Azzi knew that Paige found her attractive. And although she’s spent years wishing such an attraction went beyond a nere appreciation of her body and her face, she’s long accepted the fact that the love Paige has for her is purely platonic. Strong and steady, sure, but heartbreakingly platonic. Still, Azzi, gets a kick out of making Paige nervous.

Azzi winces as she stumbles for the fifth time, the sole of her foot throbbing and screaming to be let out of the confines of her heels.

“I told you you should’ve brought sneakers and carried your heels,” Pige says from behind her, and Azzi fights the urge to turn around and throttle her. Usually, her best friend would usually offer to do that for her, but Azzi can tell she’s using this opportunity to try and test James — and by the shit-eating smirk on Paige's face, Azzi knows that failing would be generous to describe how he's doing.

Azzi glances beside her and places her hand on her mouth to stifle a giggle. Paige sticks out like a sore thumb as she walks casually behind them, hands stuffed into her Nike sweats. She’s wearing her bright pink EYBL sweater, her hair slightly messy from lying around all day, but she still looks confident as ever, totally unperturbed by the long gowns and tuxedos surrounding her.

“Alright, smile!” Tim and Katie hold up five different cameras, capturing about a million different angles of the group of teens. Paige stands next to them, watching as they pose, but it doesn't take long before she begins to grow bored. “Why am I even here?” Azzi hears her complain quietly to her parents.

“Because when you stay with us, you’re part of our family, and being part of the family means coming to support each other in big moments," Katie reminds her, ruffling Paige's hair.

“Big moments, my ass,” Paige says under her breath as to goes to carefully fix her hair. “I’ve never even been to prom. It can’t be that good.”

“Paige.” Katie sends her a warning glare, effectively shutting her up. Paige has a very comfortable relationship with Tim and Katie, they're basically a second set of parents for her, but she knows her limits.

“Be a good sport, kid.” Tim adds, and claps her on the back. With a long and drawn-out sigh, Paige follows begrudgingly as they move from place to place to take more pictures, hands staying in her pockets and face remaining indifferent.

“Alright Paige, get in there!” Katie puts her camera down to encourage Paige with a nod.

“I’m not even dressed nice,” Paige grumbles, but she sidles in anyways, hand hovering hesitantly over Azzi's side before brushing down her back and finally settling firmly on her hip. The dark haired girl finds herself leaning away from James and into Paige’s touch, her hand burning into Azzi's skin even through the layers of her dress.

“One of you two alone?” Tim asks, a teasing smile on his face. Azzi narrows her eyes at him.

“Aw, you don’t want one with me?” Paige grins, her tone light as she starts to leave.

“No, I do, wait,” Azzi stumbles over her words, flustered, as Tim starts to laugh into his hands. She reaches for the blonde’s hand and tugs her back to her side where she belongs. “My dad’s just being annoying.”

James steps out, and Paige immediately relaxes, head naturally tilting towards Azzi's as they both smile for the cameras. “Aight, I think that’s good,” Paige says after another round of photos and cooing by Azzi’s parents. She takes a step back, shoving her hands back into her pocket as her eyes skim Azzi’s body. Azzi meets her eyes once they come back up, and she wills Paige to say something, anything, but the blonde only swallows hard before looking away.

“Az, I’m gonna go with your dad to get the car,” James tells her. “You good going with your mom back home? I’ll be there to pick you up in like, half an hour.”

The car ride back to her house is silent. Paige picks at her cuticles, while Azzi sits ramrod straight in her seat, not wanting to mess up her hair or wrinkle her dress. When her mom pulls into the driveway, she reaches over and pinches Paige’s side. “Can you stay for a sec? I wanna talk.”

Paige, who had been already attempting to get out of the car, sits back down into her seat, eyebrows raised in a question. Azzi doesn’t speak yet, and their breathing is the only sound in the car. Paige crosses then uncrosses her legs, peeking at Azzi before returning her gaze outside the window, clearly impatient for the younger girl to begin talking.

Azzi fingers a strand of her hair. “Do you think I look pretty?”

Paige’s lips quirk at the question. “That was not what I was expecting you to say.”

“What were you expecting me to say?” Azzi asks, slightly defensive.

“Nothing,” Paige replies too quickly, but Azzi senses a tinge of relief in her tone. She shifts in her seat, edging slightly closer as she examines Azzi’s face. Her knee accidentally bumps into Azzi's ribs. Azzi hates when her best friend starts looking at her with her full attention. The heavy weight of blue eyes always causes her heart to flutter, and she begins to squirm self-consciously under her gaze. “Stop that.”

“You asked me if I thought you were pretty,” Paige retorts. “Can’t blame me for looking.”

God, she’s so annoying. Azzi pushes her, but Paige catches her hand, sandwiching it between her own and bringing it captive to her lips. “Of course I think you look pretty, Az,” Paige laughs. She presses a single small kiss to her knuckles. “You know I do.”

“Well, you didn’t compliment me tonight, and you always do.” Azzi ducks her head as she feels the warmth in her cheeks give her away. Damn it.

“Always want my validation, huh,” Paige teases, trying to meet her eyes, but Azzi looks away still, stubborn as always, and her expression sombers. “You look gorgeous, Azzi, seriously. I mean, you’re always gorgeous,” Paige tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, but Azzi’s not sure there was even a flyaway to begin with, so Paige ends up just ghosting her fingers down from her temple to her chin. “But…” her gaze falls down, and her eyes alone say enough words to finish her sentence and a thousand more. Paige leans in, eyes half lidded, and Azzi shuts her eyes, preparing for the usual affectionate kiss on the cheek. She shudders when she feels lips on her neck instead, at the soft spot below her ear, lingering for a few seconds before it’s gone all too soon. Deep, unguarded heat blooms from that spot, spreading from her neck to her chest.

Azzi realizes they’re still holding hands, and she gives Paige's fingers a squeeze for the hell of it. Encouraged, Paige moves in even closer, hands moving to the headrest for support. Azzi is caged in by Paige’s arms, and Azzi sort of likes it, and she sort of wants Paige to start kissing down her neck like in the movies, maybe leaving a mark or two, but she’s met only with a kiss on her cheek, right near the corner of her mouth, so close that if she’d moved to the right just a couple millimeters their lips would’ve touched.

Paige’s lips part just a bit, her tongue poking out to lick her bottom lip. Her breathing whistles out unevenly. “Have fun tonight, Azzi,” she says, eyes flicking down, and Azzi swears they pause at her lips. She pops the door open and slides out, walking slowly back inside all cool and collected, like she didn’t just leave Azzi absolutely ruined from just two kisses.

Azzi bangs her head against the headrest, perfect hair be gone, and groans.

༉‧₊˚✧

When she finally gets back home, hair messy from dancing, calves sore from jumping around, Azzi is just a little tipsy, softened at the edges. Most of the effects from pre-gaming with her friends have worn off by now, and all she feels is the loose warmth in her chest, a warmth that floods down to her toes when she opens her bedroom door and sees a lump on her bed. Blonde hair peeks out from beneath her purple blanket. Azzi giggles when she lifts it and sees Paige with her mouth ajar, snoring away. Her glasses are perched messily on her nose, laptop on her thighs still open. She takes a quick picture for blackmail purposes before grabbing her pajamas to go change.

Azzi blames the alcohol for the way she can’t stop smiling to herself the whole way to the bathroom. It’s been a hectic day, and the thought of being able to curl up in bed with her best friend, being able to soak in the warmth of her body heat and bury her face into her neck and finally relax, gives her more satisfaction than she’d like to admit.

By the time Azzi has finished getting ready for bed, Paige, constantly moving while awake and in her sleep, has sprawled out in the center of the mattress. Azzi climbs in gingerly, but despite her best efforts not to disturb the older girl, she stirs.

“Azzi?” The blonde rolls over and snuggles into a pillow before she seemingly remembers where she is and shoots up in bed, looking as startled as a deer caught in headlights.

Azzi can’t help but snicker. “Yeah?”

Paige blinks groggily at her, clearly needing a moment to get her bearings. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to fall asleep in here.” She fidgets with the end of her shirt, almost as if she’s embarrassed to have been caught in Azzi’s bed like this, and Azzi gets a sudden surge of cuteness aggression.

Deciding not to turn it into a big deal (she'd never want to scare Paige away from sleeping in her bed, God knows how much she loves it） out of the goodness of her heart, and the sore muscles in her body telling her to just sleep, Azzi says quietly, “You don’t have to go.” She pulls the comforter over her chest as she watches Paige breathe heavily, her shoulders and back flexing in her hunched over position.

A moment of silence passes before Paige responds. “Okay.” Lying back down is an awkward process, actions hesitant as the older girl overthinks where to go. She finds the very edge of the bed, arms pinned to her sides as she stares directly up at the ceiling. And it’s not like Paige and Azzi have never slept in the same bed, but they’ve never intentionally slept together, limbs intertwining only in the dark of night when they pretend to be asleep and ending when one of them wakes up first in the morning and is able to separate themselves before they have to deal with the awkward ordeal of waking up snuggling. Neither of them have ever really considered the fact that it shouldn’t be awkward for people who are really just friends to cuddle—but for them, it always has been, even the slightest of touches meaning too much and too little.

So Azzi waits for Paige to settle into bed and close her eyes before she takes the initiative to scoot closer in. She pauses a little when her best friend stiffens, and starts to regret maybe overstepping. But then Paige reaches out for her. She stares at the ceiling, not looking at Azzi, but her hand tugs Azzi’s wrist, bringing her closer until she’s fully curling into Paige’s chest. Paige's arm falls around her shoulders a little awkwardly. But she's warm, her chest solid, and Azzi thinks it's perfect.

Azzi has almost drifted fully into unconciousness when Paige whispers, “How was prom?” Her lips graze Azzi’s temple as she speaks into her hair, and Azzi shudders at the feeling.

“It was fine.” She presses her forehead sleepily to Paige’s neck, skin against skin, feeling her pulse thrum steadily. The fresh scent of Paige's deodorant and body wash is simple, a thousand times familiar, but still her favorite in the world. “Missed you,” Azzi admits, the tenderness in her own voice making her cringe a little.

Paige squeezes her closer in. “Missed you more." Her thumb caresses the younger girl's jawline, soothing her to sleep. "Maybe next year will be more fun.”

Azzi doesn’t say that prom was only fine because she could only think about Paige the entire time, and that things probably wouldn't change in a year if they hadn't for the past three. She only hums softly in response.

“Good night.” Paige drops a kiss on her hairline, so briefly and so casually that Azzi almost misses it.

“Night.” Azzi snuggles closer in, heart racing, and she sleeps.

⋆⑅˚₊ iii. so it goes - i'm yours to keep and i'm yours to lose

May 2020

Paige knows before it happens.

It was hard not to. Azzi had been acting distant all week, smiles tight and eyes a little less shiny whenever she’d spoken to Paige. The blonde had just assumed it was because she was having a hard time saying goodbye—what she didn't know was that Azzi was saying goodbye in more ways than one.

The morning of, Paige is the last in the house to wake up. She pads downstairs, still in her pajamas, to find her family and Azzi at the table, eating waffles. Drew is babbling about dinosaurs or something, whipped cream all over his nose and chin, while her dad mans the waffle maker and her step-mom packs a bag of snacks. Azzi is sitting next to Drew, cross-legged and domestic while feeding him between bites of her own food, and it strikes a feeling within Paige she can’t quite place yet.

“Good morning to my two favorite people,” she crows, her volume much too loud for 9 in the morning as seen by the winces on everyone’s faces. She throws one arm each around her little brother and best friend, pulling them in for a group hug, and she finds a hint of the old, familiar softness in Azzi’s eyes before it’s quickly replaced by the distant, guarded expression she’s been wearing for too long. Paige’s stomach heaves a little, but then Drew smears some whipped cream on her nose, eliciting a tickle war, and like usual, the feeling gets pushed to the side.

“Paige, there’s a stack of waffles for you on the table. Try to eat pretty quick because we have to leave soon,” her dad motions for her to sit down, and Paige dutifully obeys. Her eyes light up when she sees the bottle of syrup, and she proceeds to grab it eagerly before drizzling a concerning amount onto her breakfast.

“Paige, you’re gonna make yourself sick,” Azzi reprimands, but Paige only kicks her hard under the table before digging in.

“I’m packing some food for your plane ride,” her step-mom says. “Do you want Slim Jims or apple slices as snack?”

“Can I have both?”

“You only have room for one.”

Decisions, decisions. “Slim Jims.”

Azzi wipes her mouth with her napkin. “Hey,” she says quietly when the adults fall back into their own conversation. “I need to talk to you before you leave.”

“Oh yeah, I was gonna talk to you anyways. I needed to tell you something.” Paige was going to give Azzi the letter she wrote a couple weeks ago. She’d written and rewritten it only about a hundred times, then copied the final letter to fancy card stock paper in her best hand-writing, even adding a couple quick sketches of flowers and rainbows and hearts. It looked pretty awesome, if she did say so herself. Anddddd it also said a bunch of things she wasn’t ready to say out loud, so Paige’s current plan was to say her good-bye before shoving the card in Azzi’s hands as the last thing she’d do before jumping in the car and leaving. And then she’d spend the entire plane ride with her dad going batshit crazy thinking about Azzi reading it.

But still, it would be worth it. Paige was so sure Azzi felt the same — how could she not? She felt the way Azzi’s heart rate picked up whenever they touched, knew the way Azzi looked at her when she thought she wasn’t looking wasn’t normal for just best friends, especially since summer, when everything had between them had changed. It had started off with a kiss, and quickly evolved to something messy and tangled between the two of them that they’d labeled as “friends with benefits”, a label that Paige thought did their dynamic injustice. But still, it had been four years of knowing each other and almost a year of being more, and Paige was finally ready to let Azzi know. No more friends with benefits — girlfriends.

But Paige, so caught up in her thoughts, doesn’t see Azzi’s face drop, the younger girl’s tendency to overthink clearly leading her own train of thought. So she continues to eat her waffles in blissful ignorance as Azzi sits back quietly.

༉‧₊˚✧

“I’m just so ready, ya know?” Paige tosses her charger in the backpack. “I think that’s everything on my packing list,” she muses to herself quietly, gaze sweeping around the room with an air of finality. Then she looks up at Azzi and smiles. “The college experience, the whole nine yards.” She takes a seat on her bed and pats the spot next to her, indicating for the dark haired girl to sit with her. “Even though there’s still COVID and I won’t be able to do the really fun stuff—" she imagines playing in front of a sold out crowd at Gampel, and the smile on her face dims just a little at the feeling of missing out, “—still, I’m just so excited. I can’t stop like, bouncing around. You get it, right?” She flops down on the bed, hands folding behind her head as she closes her eyes and imagines it all.

Azzi is silent beside her, still sitting upright. Paige can’t see her face, so she nudges her knee. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” Azzi’s voice is unsteady. “I get it.”

Paige opens her eyes and sits back up. “Bro, are you good? I didn't wanna say anything, but you’ve been kinda acting weird lately.”

“Listen,” Azzi says. She’s fiddling with a loose thread on her sweats, and Paige swears her fingers are shaking. “I know we haven’t really talked about it directly, but–" she takes a deep breath to steady her voice, “I want it to be clear between the two of us. Clean cut, you know?”

“Clean cut?” Paige echoes, lost.

“Yeah. No messy stuff and wondering what we are. So that you can go do your own thing at college, without feeling bad or- or like you owe me anything,” her words trail off into a gasp, “and I can do mine.”

Paige is even more lost. “Azzi, what are you talking about?”

Azzi bites her bottom lip, her nervous tic. “I’m saying that we should end this — whatever this is. Friends with benefits, casually sleeping together, whatever you wanna call it." She inhales sharply. "It’s probably the best for both of us.”

Immediately, she hones in on the word casual. Casual? Paige had never thought that whatever they had going on was a casual thing. Maybe unknown, unfamiliar, new—but never casual. She thought it was the most sacred thing in the world. A bitter taste forms at the base of her throat when she realizes that maybe she’s read it wrong all along. But Paige would never want to pressure Azzi into something she doesn't want. “So you’re saying - you’re saying you wanna end this?”

“Yeah." Azzi finally turns her head to her, and her face is marked by tear tracks. "You know, for your college experience. And for me.”

Devastation.

That's the only word Paige can think of that comes even close to what she's feeling right now.

She feels numb, and stupid, and god. How could she ever been so foolish to think that Azzi could like her back? Could want Paige in the same, aching, all-consuming, nonsensical way that she wanted Azzi? She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out but a broken "Okay."

“Okay?” Azzi sounds incredulous before she shakes her head and catches herself. Clearing her throat, she mumbles, “So, um, we good?”

Paige is thrown. Completely, utterly thrown. “Yeah, we’re good. I guess.”

Her dad calls for her downstairs, and when she stands it seems like she’s watching herself move in third person. “Well, thanks for visiting this past week and saying goodbye. I had fun.” Her tone is strangely flat, void of any emotion, unrecognizable even to herself. But when your heart has just gotten broken before it had to chance to even beat, how can self-preservation allow you to be on anything but auto-pilot?

“Yeah, me too.” Azzi sounds defeated, and Paige wonders if it’s because she’d felt trapped this entire week, had hated whenever Paige had pulled her aside for a quick kiss. The mere thought of Azzi feeling uncomfortable around her makes her nauseous with guilt.

So, Paige does the only thing she knows how to do. She shoulders on her backpack, but her suitcase and duffel bags are already in the trunk, so she doesn’t have anywhere to put her hands, and they hang limply by her side. She doesn’t even know if she should give Azzi a hug. “We’re still…we’re still best friends right?”

“Of course.” The smile Azzi flashes is meant to be reassuring, but the way it doesn’t reach her eyes makes it anything but. “I’ll come visit you soon,” she adds as an after-thought, seemingly wanting to remedy the situation, but Paige doesn’t even hear her, already leaving before she can finish her sentence. Having to stay any longer, having to look and let go of the sight of Azzi in her bed, in her room, in her home, would make her break down on the spot.

So Paige leaves without really saying good-bye, and she cries the entire plane ride to Connecticut.

⋆⑅˚₊

Azzi: just said goodbye to paige

Azzi: my flight's in a couple hours

Azzi: see you soon

Azzi finishes texting her parents before shutting her phone off and snuggling deeper into Paige's blankets. Everything had turned out so different than she'd expected a week ago. She'd came to Minnesota eager to spend a few days with her best friend before sending her off to college, with this persistent, nagging hope in the back of her brain that maybe this would be the moment where she could finally tell Paige about her feelings.

Then the moment she'd arrived at the Bueckers' home, Paige had started going on about how excited she was for the college experience. She hadn't said it explicitly — no, Paige was too kind to tell Azzi directly, but Azzi knew everything her best friend couldn't say. That she wanted to end these things, because she wanted other, better things: other girls, other people, other relationships.

And besides, letting go of Paige now is the only way to save herself in the future, Azzi reasons to herself. Being stuck in this weird limbo of being her best friend who also kisses her would only make it so much harder to see and hear about Paige with other girls in Connecticut. It was better to snap it in half now, while she still could, to leave her pride somewhat intact so that she wasn't hanging onto Paige while Paige was trying to shake her off.

Azzi had ended it before Paige could, and that was that.

⋆⑅˚₊ iv. dress - say my name and everything just stops / i don’t want you like a best friend

February 2022

“I’m gonna go hang out with Kiki after this.” The corner of Paige’s mouth twitches when Azzi stiffens in her arms.

“Oh, okay.”

Paige drums her fingers against Azzi's waist. “Just wanted to let you know.”

“Well, now I know.“ Azzi sidles out of her arms harshly. “Gonna go pee.”

The deeply entrenched lingers of doubt becomes to crawl in her mind again when Azzi leaves, but unlike a year ago, when Paige had left her house for the airport in tears, she has experience. Experience in reading people and picking up when they show all the tell-tale signs of a crush: the flush of cheeks, the stuttering whenever Paige flirts a little too hard, the way she subconsciously leans into her touch whenever they’re sitting next to each other. And the signs of jealousy — all the signs she sees in herself whenever Azzi talks to anyone but her. And honestly, even if Paige didn’t know for sure, it’s getting to a point where she can no longer ignore the tension between them. Ever since Azzi has joined her at UConn, even though they haven’t slept together, per se, their relationship has been more than when they were; the press of mouths to cheeks that linger longer than necessary, the grinding at Ted’s that start before either of them are really drunk but pretend to be for the sake of forgetting. And, in all honesty, Paige really can’t see Azzi talking to another asshat. Hence, their current situation.

When Azzi comes back, oversized shirt wet with the stains of washed hands, Paige has finished gathering up her courage again. Azzi makes a point of sitting down far out of reach at the other end of the couch instead of returning to Paige’s arms. Definitely jealous, she thinks to herself.

“Might take her out to a nice dinner or something,” Paige says, picking up right where she left off. Then she decides why not be more of an annoying shit, and asks, “Actually, can I borrow your car?”

Azzi’s eye twitches. “What do you need my car for?” She does a damn good job of forcing her tone into one of disinterest and indifference, but from the way her jaw ticks, Paige knows she’s anything but.

“Mine’s low on gas and the restaurant I wanna go to is far. Wanna give her princess treatment, you know?”

The younger girl is positively scowling now, eyes in slits as she channels all her anger into glaring at the TV. “And why are you telling me all of this?”

Paige scoots next to Azzi and throws an arm around her shoulder. Time to make her move. Tracing circles on her shoulder with a finger, she says slowly, “Because I wanted to see your reaction.”

“My reaction?”

Her laugh comes out breathy. “Azzi, I can tell that you’re jealous.”

Her best friend’s eyes close briefly, and Paige’s heart drops a beat. Reading Azzi has always came naturally to her, pure intuition for someone she’s always in sync with. Not to brag, but she’s perfected knowing exactly how to push Azzi and where her boundaries are, but this time maybe she’d gone too far. Paige is two seconds away from apologizing until the dark haired girl opens her eyes again and says firmly, “I’m not jealous.”

No turning back now. “No?”

“I’m really not.”

“So if I took your car, and went to pick her up, with a bouquet of flowers, maybe even some chocolate, and took her to a fancy restaurant…you wouldn’t mind at all?”

A strangled sound leaves Azzi’s mouth, so quiet Paige almost misses it. “Not at all.”

“And if I took her back to her house-“ Paige’s voice drops a note, all husky and raspy, “and I took her to her bedroom, and I kissed her-“

“Paige-”

“And I touched her-,”

“Paige, stop.” Azzi’s chest heaves. Paige looks away, trying not to get sidetracked by the way her tiny tank top dips on her cleavage and leaves a little too much to the imagination. The younger girl shrugs Paige’s arm off her shoulders and stands up, backing away as if being any closer to her will make her explode. “Fine, you win. You know I’m jealous.”

Paige’s smile is triumphant. “That’s all you all had to say, baby.”

Scoffing, Azzi turns around and marches into her room, but Paige is quick to follow. “I’m not hanging out with Kiki after this,”she says, breathing down Azzi’s neck as she almost steps on her heels, but her best friend speeds up. “I haven’t hung out with Kiki since before you got here.”

“So?”

“So,” Paige emphasizes, and realizing she has only about five seconds before Azzi reaches her room and slams the door in her face for being, she admits, sort of an asshole, she says all in one breath, “I-wanted-to-make-sure-you-felt-the-same-because-I-have-feelings-for-you-and-I’ve-had-them-for-a-while-and-I-really-want-to-take-you-on-a-proper-date-and-hopefully-become-your-girlfriend-because-I-don’t-wan’t-you-like-a-best-friend-and-I-honestly-go-crazy-thinking-about-you-with-anyone-but-me-but-if-you-don’t-feel-ready-for-more-yet-then-it’s-okay.” She’s panting by the time she finishes and doesn’t realize that Azzi has fully stopped in her tracks before she’s stumbling over her feet and crashing into her, sending the both of them falling to the ground.

Somehow they both end up with their backs against the carpet, looking up at the ceiling. Azzi is still breathing hard next to her, from speed walking or falling or from Paige getting on her nerves, Paige isn’t sure which, but she waits patiently for her response, trying to ignore the stupid noise in her head saying maybe your dumbass got it all wrong again.

Finally, finally, after what seems like ten minutes, Azzi opens her mouth. “You’re stupid,” is all she says, then she rolls over and kisses Paige on the mouth.

Not what Paige was expecting after her grand love confession, but the plumpness of Azzi’s bottom lip captured in between hers makes it hard to complain about anything at all.

They kiss for twenty minutes, or maybe forty. Paige loses track of time, and honestly, she could do this forever without getting tired, but she came to Azzi's apartment tonight with a game plan, and she has to stick with it, so she pushes her best friend away a little to end their 10/10 makeout session.

Smoothing the frizz of Azzi’s hair back with her palm, she whispers, “I’m gonna take you on a date, okay?”

Azzi grins and kisses her forehead. “Okay.”

“Tomorrow. Are you free?”

Azzi moves to her cheek, tongue leaving wet trails on her face. “Don’t act like you don’t know my schedule.”

“Okay then. Tomorrow at six.” Paige traces the dimple of Azzi’s smile with the pad of her thumb, memorizing the indentation she loves so much. “That was lowkey easier than I thought it’d be.”

“Making my life hell for the past twenty minutes was easier than you thought?” Azzi bites down hard on Paige bottom lip, teeth scraping into her soft skin, and the blonde winces.

“Sorry,” she replies unapologetically. “Just had to make sure. Plus, you’re cute when you’re jealous.”

Azzi smirks against her mouth. “’I go crazy thinking about you with anyone but me,’” she mimics in a high pitched tone.

“Who you tryna be?” Paige grumbles, but there’s no heat in her voice.

⋆⑅˚₊ v. don’t blame me - i get so high, oh, every time you’re loving me

“It’s too early in the goddamn morning for you to be cheesin like this,” Nika complains as they stretch out on the cold floor of the gym.

Paige grabs her foot and leans toward it, shaking out the stiffness in her hamstrings and calves. “You’re just jealous I got a hot date and you don’t,” she responds, unable to take the grin off her face.

Nika grimaces. “Please never say that ever again.”

“Who’s this hot date?” Azzi plops down next to them, her thigh brushing Paige’s as she extends her knee, and Paige shivers.

Nika mimes putting a finger down her throat, and Paige waves her off. “Only the prettiest girl in the world," she says, not giving a shit about how cheesy the words coming out of her mouth sound.

Azzi wrinkles her nose, but her eyes shine with affection. “Have I told you you’re stupid?” She slides her hand over Paige’s, giving it a quick squeeze before moving it as quickly as it came.

“Only a couple of times.” Paige takes a swift search around for prying eyes before leaning in close to Azzi. “Just to be clear,” she whispers, “you like me? Like, like like me?”

“I feel like we're in middle school again, but to answer your question, last I heard of, yeah,” Azzi says, a smile threatening her lips. “Unless anything has changed since ten hours ago?”

“Nahh, nothin.” Paige gives Azzi’s earlobe a quick nip. “'Cept for the fact that I’m nervous as hell thinking about tonight.”

Azzi giggles at the ticklish feeling before CD steps into the gym, clapping her hands and directing the girls to start warming up. Paige sends her a wink before jogging to the front to take charge.

⋆⑅˚₊

They’re the last ones in the locker room, and Paige waits only a few seconds after the last of their teammates leave before she’s pushing Azzi against the wall and and kissing her. Paige’s cheeks are flushed and rosy from practice, hair coming loose from her bun and wild strands framing her face, and Azzi drinks it all in.

“Look so fuckin good just practicing, it’s unfair,” Paige mumbles in breaths, unable to keep her mouth away from Azzi’s for too long. Her hand wanders down Azzi’s back, fisting up her jersey to stroke the bare softness of her waist before trailing down to cup the swell of her ass. She squeezes hard, and Azzi moans into her mouth, a little breathy sound that drives Paige absolutely feral. It’s only when a door bangs outside that they realize how incriminating they’d look if someone walked in, and they separate, gasping.

“We should probably go,” Azzi breathes out, unable to take her eyes off the swollen wetness of her best friend’s lips.

“Probably,” Paige agrees. Then she takes off her jersey, movements slow and sensual. Her shirt rides up in the process, giving Azzi a glimpse of milky white skin and muscled abs, and Azzi really can’t blame herself for what she does next, not when Paige looks like that.

⋆⑅˚₊ vi. new year’s day - but i stay when you’re lost and i’m scared and you’re turning away

August 2025

Paige wakes up to three missed phone calls. She’s only able to swipe up and see that they’re all from Azzi before her phone immediately dies. She curses. Worst fucking timing in the world. She rushes to plug her charger in, tapping the black screen aggressively as if it’ll make it turn on any after. Her head still pounds from the chaos of the night before, her mouth dry and gross. She’s not sure if she even brushed her teeth after coming home from the club, the way her breath still stinks of alcohol.

She thinks about finally getting up to take or shower or do anything that’ll make her feel less disgusting but then finally, finally, her phone comes back to life. Her hearts starts pounding harder when she’d realized she’d missed not just three calls, but a series of texts.

11:45 PM

Missed call from Azzi

Missed call from Azzi

Azzi: hey u good?

Azzi: lmk if u need a minute

11:58 PM

Azzi: lmao did u forget

12:10 AM

Missed call from Azzi

Azzi: seriously paige

Azzi: at the fucking club again

12:22 AM

Azzi: call me when ur up

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Paige squeezes her eyes shut. She can’t even really remember last night—it’s a blur of hazy smoke, one too many shots, and bassy music thumping so loud she swore her eardrums almost burst. But after the win at home, that much needed win, when the team had started making plans to celebrate, Arike promising that drinks were on her, she’d told Azzi that she needed to cancel their previously scheduled Facetime for that night. Didn’t she?

She scrolls down, heart ricocheting in her chest when she sees the unsent text in her message bar. She must have exited it out or closed her phone before she could’ve pressed send. Cursing under her breath, Paige slides on her glasses and calls Azzi.

The phone rings three times before it’s answered. “Hello?” Azzi’s voice comes out dry and scratchy. She sounds like she’s just woken up, or is sick, or maybe a mixture of both.

“Baby, hey.” Paige runs a hand through her hair but gives up when it gets tangled in a knot. “I’m so sorry about last night. I meant to text you and I forgot to press send and there was a ton of shit happening at once. I should’ve double checked that it sent, and I’m- I’m sorry.” Paige isn’t sure what to do but keep apologizing, but she's only greeted with silence on the other end. After a couple of beats, she says hesitantly, “Azzi?”

Her girlfriend exhales slowly on the other end, the tell-tale sign that she’s trying really hard not to lose her patience. Not a good sign. “Okay.”

“Just...okay?” Paige repeats, slightly confused at the lack of anger or really any emotion at all in her tone.

There’s rustling on the other end of the line before Azzi’s voice comes out clearer and louder. “What do you want me to say?”

“I - I don’t know. Are you mad?” Because Azzi isn’t yelling at her, or saying anything in particular, just sounds resigned, and Paige doesn’t know what to do with that. She’d rather Azzi show any kind of emotion than this. She can't read this. She can't navigate this.

“Christ, Paige, you’re so dense sometimes.”

“You have every right to be mad with me, but I don’t know, you sound—”

“You think I want to be mad at you? You think I wanna spend one of our, what, four phone calls a week arguing with you? Fuck.” There it is.

Paige rubs her temples. “I know.”

“I’m not tryna be your clingy girlfriend from home,” Azzi continues. “Trust me, I’m really fucking not. Ever since you left I’ve been trying to respect your new life, your new schedule, letting you have space to enjoy your rookie year without having to feel suffocated. But please, please tell me I’m not insane for thinking that it’s unreasonable for you to cancel a call not even for basketball, but for shit like partying at a club?” Azzi pauses. “Honestly, I feel like I’m the one initiating our conversations most of the times. It’s like you’re putting in zero effort.”

“I understand that you’re mad but it’s a little ridiculous of you to just say I never put in any effort, Azzi.” Paige has never lashed out like this, never spoken to Azzi in this tone that sounds like anger and bitterness and exasperation fighting over each other to be heard, but Azzi's words strike something deep inside of her that hurts. “You think I like being this busy, this exhausted, having this little free time to talk more than a couple of hours? Throughout everything I’ve been trying to make you feel like a priority because god, Azzi, you are, I love you so much, and it hurts that you think I’m not even trying.” Her voice chokes an embarrasing amount on the last word, and she tosses her phone on her pillow to run her hands over her face in an effort to collect herself.

“Oh, my bad, Paige. Sorry for being such a burden and an inconvenience in your busy life,” Azzi spits out bitterly.

Paige can't help but jump to her own defense. “You didn’t even wanna come down to Dallas last month when you were free. And it's not like I can go up to you. If one of is putting in less effort, Azzi, it's sure as hell not me.”

“We had pre-season workouts, Paige, you know that.”

“I also know that they’re not mandatory and it wouldn’t have killed you to missed one. You could’ve worked out with me down here.” Somewhere deep inside, Paige knows she's being unreasonable, that Azzi has never asked her to skip practice for her and so neither should she, but she remembers the hurt that had coiled in her stomach, dark and tangled, when Azzi had refused to come down for even just a couple of days after not having seen each other in almost three weeks. If it had been her, she would’ve taken the first flight, Paige thinks, and it hadn’t taken much to spiral down the rabbit-hole of doubts—that Azzi didn’t miss her the same way she did, that Azzi was perfectly fine living her life in Storrs while Paige lived hers in Dallas, that Azzi didn’t care enough about Paige to want to visit her again. And when she’d been scrolling on Tiktok, seen videos of her girlfriend with her teammates that weekend, laughing and smiling with them when it could’ve been her—the spiral had turned into something much worse in her mind.

“So you expect me to drop everything for you but when it’s your turn to actually do something, to, I don't know, call me first for once, all of a sudden you’re too busy and tired?” Azzi accuses.

“That’s not even what I said!" Paige argues. "And I don't call first because I know you always call at a set time. Why are we even keeping track of who calls who first? If we're resorting to this, what's even the point?"

“What’s the point?” Azzi’s voice trembles. “What’s the point of this relationship, you mean?”

No, no, no. “Come on, Az, you know I didn’t mean it like that,” Paige pleads.

“You asked me what the point of our relationship was, Paige, don’t scramble now.”

“Because apparently you think it’s all one sided! And you’ve clearly been feeling like this for a while!” Paige swears under her breath. “How long have you been resenting me for this? Thinking that I don’t care about you, that I don’t care about us?”

“Don’t yell at me!”

“I’m not yelling!” Paige pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to get herself to take a couple of deep breaths and calm down. “Az, I’m sorry about last night, okay? I really am. It won’t happen again, I swear.”

“It’s not even about last night!” Azzi explodes. “How are you still not getting that?”

Seeing the time on her watch, Paige grits her teeth. “This conversation isn’t getting anywhere and I have practice. Can we talk later?”

“It’s always later with you.” Azzi’s voice is oddly high pitched, strained as if she’s trying to hide something, and Paige realizes that she’s probably crying. Fuck. She hates this, the distance, the ease of throwing angry accusations over the phone when you can’t see their face crumble from the impact of what you've done. Azzi sniffs. “Whatever. We’ll talk after. Call me when you’re done.”

“Okay.” Paige opens her mouth to say one more thing, but the line ends before she can. Fuck. She throws her phone on the bed, but it slides off the mattress and tumbles to the ground with a smack. Picking it up, she sees two cracks running through the screen. It looks almost as ugly as she feels inside.

Perfect. It’s 7 AM and her day already sucks.

As soon as practice is over, she shoots Azzi a text.

Paige: done for the day, lmk when ur free

Read

She checks her phone for the next couple of hours, waiting for a response, but to no avail.

Paige: are u really ignoring my texts

Paige: lmfao thought we left this petty shit back in high school

Paige: u said u wanted to talk and now u don’t want to?? i really don’t know what u even want from me

Azzi calls her a couple minutes later.

“That’s how I feel,” Azzi says tightly. “That’s how I felt last night, when I stayed up until 12:30 waiting for you to call.”

“Aight, next time tell me if you’re gonna call just to pick a fight, ‘cause then I won’t fuckin pick up,” Paige fires back, and she knows before she says it that it'll just make everything worse, but shit, she's so tired of arguing, for having to walk on eggshells whenever they talk, and she knows Azzi is too. And she's been in a terrifically awful mood all day, going stir crazy at her girlfriend's lack of response to her texts; she wants to resolve it more than anything, to make everything okay again, yet it seems like Azzi is holding onto that anger for her and she doesn’t know why.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, I don’t even know why I miss you," Azzi says scathingly. "Honestly, maybe we should take a break. This clearly isn’t working.” And those words are so sudden, so heavy and unexpected, that Paige can only fall silent in response.

Breathing hard, Paige touches her cheeks. She’s never been a crier, but all of a sudden the sleeve of her sweater is damp and her vision is blurring and her head is spinning.

“Paige?” Azzi says her name softly and regretfully.

“Yeah,” she says numbly into the phone, pretending as if Azzi suggesting a break—Azzi, in effect, wanting to end things—didn't just crush everything inside of her.

A sob comes out over the line. “I - I just miss you and I just said a bunch of shit that I didn’t mean and I feel so horrible. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Paige swipes angrily at her eyes, willing the tears to stop flowing. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Then Azzi whimpers, a small and deadly sound that pierces right through Paige’s heart, and despite everything, she just wants to reach through the phone and hold her. “I don’t wanna take a break. I love you, and I’m not used to fighting with you, and I just want you to be here.”

Paige is quiet for a moment, head swimming. “I’m sorry too. Listen, it’s late. Let’s just sleep on it and talk tomorrow, okay? When we both have clearer heads.” Paige would never call their relationship fragile, she feels like that would be a disservice to their years of fighting for each other, but it’s definitely not in a good place right now. And she's so consumed by her anger she’s not sure what might come out of her mouth if they keep going at it, and she doesn’t want to risk it.

"I love you," Azzi speaks quietly. Paige closes her eyes, turning the words over in her mind as a reminder. She loves you. You love her. That’s all that matters. "More than anything or anyone in this world, I love you."

"I know." Paige’s voice trembles. "I love you too."

The call ends, and Paige has never in her life felt this helpless; the only thing she can do from a million miles away is stare listlessly at the black screen on her phone. The two of them have always had their arguments, but it would always be resolved within a couple of days. Now, the distance makes it so much more complicated, because it had been easy—too easy to say all those things to Azzi that she really didn't mean. She supposes they both took part in it, intentionally calling instead of Facetiming so they could avoid dealing with the fallout or taking accountability by blaming it on the emotional and physical barriers separating them.

Christ. Paige reaches for the jar of melatonin on her bedside table. She's gonna need double the dose tonight.

⋆⑅˚₊

Azzi doesn't know what came over her.

Maybe it had been from the pure exhaustion of the past few months. Living in Storrs is like being surrounded by constant reminders of Paige—in Werth, in Gampel, even in her own fucking dorm. And she's always been stable and secure in their relationship, but it still hurts only being able to hear about Paige's new life without really being a part of it.

Then she'd gone and suggested a break, quite possibly the dumbest thing she's ever said, and for an agonizing second of silence over the phone, she'd been scared that Paige would agree, that Paige would say, maybe this is best for us, and end it all right then and there.

But she hadn't, and Azzi had apologized, but she knew it had done nothing to fix the impact of her words.

Which is why it's 2 AM, but she's still up, looking at flights to Los Angeles on her laptop. Paige has a game against the Sparks, and she can only stay for one day, so she's searching for tickets that will allow her to arrive right before the game and leave the early morning after.

Bingo. A last minute flight that leaves in six hours. Azzi calculates the timing in her head; the plane ride is 8 hours but LA is 3 hours behind, meaning she'll arrive at around 1 pm PST. It'll be too late by then to catch Paige before the game, and she wouldn't want to distract her anyways, so she'll have a few hours to make it to the game, watch, before hopefully having the chance to talk to Paige that night before both of them have to leave for their own cities. Azzi completes the purchase, then starts to pack her backpack.

LA is sunny and warm, and uplifts Azzi's spirits just a little. She takes an Uber to a restaurant to get some food in her stomach before taking another Uber to Crypto Arena. She wasn't able to secure a very good seat, so she pulls her hoodie tight over her head and hopes that the cameras don't see her. With red-rimmed eyes and deep bags under them, she looks worse for wear, and the last thing she wants to do is to be displayed on the big screen for everyone to see.

The first three quarters fly in a flash; Paige has a rocky start before she picks Rickea's pocket late in the second and scores, setting off her momentum for a solid 14 points by the end of the third. Azzi has always loved watching Paige play, but this is only the fourth or fifth time she's gotten to watch her girlfriend play professionally, but she's still in awe of how Paige moves so naturally on the court, already a leader on both ends despite being a rookie.

Azzi is on her phone during the break when the crowd starts to cheer. Looking up at the commotion, she fights the urge to groan when she sees herself on the screen, looking confused as hell. Contorting her face into a smile, she awkwardly waves and flashes a thumbs up before the cameras thankfully pan towards a celebrity across the arena.

Then she sees Paige, who had by some chance saw Azzi on the screen. The blonde is searching the arena, hands on her waist as her eyes sweep the crowds. Her mouth is tight, set into a firm line, body posture rigid, before one of the assistant coaches taps her on the shoulder and redirects her attention to Chris.

As soon as the game is over, Paige is walking around the court, evidently still scanning the arena for her. Knowing that the older girl doesn't have her phone, Azzi makes her way down the stairs, a task made much slower by her compression boot. Finally, she makes it down, but then she's stopped by a security guard who raises a brow at her.

"Hey, Azzi!" A familiar voice rings out, and there's Cameron, eyes bright as she makes her way through the throng of people on the court. She motions for the security guard to let her through the rope, and Azzi slips in. Wrong blonde, but still, Azzi is glad to see her.

"Cam! It's nice to see you," Azzi greets, pulling in the taller girl for a hug. "Looking good back on the court."

"Thank you, thank you." Cameron brushes off her jersey in faux humility. "Still getting used to it but it feels really good."

Azzi knows all too well what returning to the game feels like after an ACL, so she smiles sympathetically at her old friend.

"What brings you to LA?" The older girl leans in conspiratorially. "Here to see your girl?" Cameron is one of few people who'd witnessed the birth of their friendship into something more, and usually Azzi would be laughing with her, but the bleakness of it all makes her only have the strength to offer a weak smile and a "Yeah."

"Azzi." The two of them turn around and see Paige, who still looks slightly confused as she moves quickly towards the two of them. Azzi takes in her girlfriend, her hair falling apart from her bun, sweat beading on her chest and neck. Unsure of what to say or do, they look at each other for a second before Paige reaches out for a hug, both of them stiff before they fall into the familiarity of each other's arms. Azzi nuzzles her head into her girlfriend's neck, not caring that her cheeks come away damp from Paige's sweat. She'd missed Paige, terribly so.

Paige is caught up in staring at Azzi when they separate before she seemingly registers that there's a third person. "Hey, Cam," she says, dapping her up.

"Paige," Cameron pats her on the back. "Gave us hell tonight." Paige chuckles, and the two players pull apart, but Paige's gaze quickly returns to examining Azzi. Cameron looks between the two of them, observant as ever, and raises an eyebrow at the tension she senses hanging in the air. "Oookay. Well, I gotta go now, but it was nice seeing the both of you. Enjoy LA, Azzi. Good game, P."

"Yeah, you too," Paige says distractedly. "It's nice having you back on the court."

Then Paige and Azzi are alone, but not really alone because they're surrounded by athletes and media and fans and more than a couple of cameras pointed at them. Paige seems to pick up on the cameras too, when she reaches for Azzi's hand, then draws back, overthinking her actions. "Let's, uh, go to my car?" she suggests. "We can talk?"

Azzi nods, and they fall into step back to the locker room. They're silent as they walk, neither really knowing what to say, until a familiar curly-headed face intercepts them in the hall. "Paige," Rae Burrell intones, a smirk on her face, "Nice to see you." Azzi immediately tenses up, slowing down in her steps, but Paige's hand moves to the small of her back, a quiet reassurance, as she guides them along, trying to move past the Spark. "Rae," she acknowledges with a mere nod.

"Azzi, fancy seeing you here. How you doing?" Rae asks, all sugar and sweetness as she starts walking beside them.

"Just peachy," Azzi drawls. Her hand lands meaningfully on Paige's bicep, firm and smooth under her hand, and she draws her girlfriend closer. Paige wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her temple without even sparing a glance at Rae, and even though there's a million things they need to work through, though apologies are needed and solutions must be made, Azzi knows that through it all, they are the surest thing in the world.

Finally getting the hint, Rae nods. "Alright, see y'all around," she mutters, an ugly frown on her face as she ducks into a side room.

"She doesn't give up, does she?" Azzi grumbles, hand falling from Paige's arm when she realizes that the older girl is likely still angry from last night. But Paige grabs her hand and brings it back, an apology that's silent and the first of many, and squeezes her closer.

"No, she doesn't," Paige affirms. They've reached the locker room, and Paige lingers for a moment before going inside. She pulls Azzi in by the waist and presses their foreheads together. "I'm really glad you're here."

"Only for today," Azzi says, and disappointment fills Paige's eyes before the events of the night before flash in her mind. "It's good," the older girl responds gently. "You're traveling sixteen hours just to be here for a few, and I appreciate it."

"I'm sorry," Azzi says, the apology tumbling out of her mouth. The need for Paige to know how much she regrets everything is too much to bear, and she starts to continue apologizing, but she's shut up by Paige's mouth suddenly on hers, moving softly, intentionally, urgently, perfectly. Her lips are so, so soft, and Azzi has missed this so bad.

Paige gives her one last kiss, forceful and emphatic, before looking at her, soft and sweet. Azzi exhales. They're gonna be okay.

[writingmyheartsout]

Castle of Glass

(Chapter 1)

_______________

Hi, hello <3

So this is my contribution to the Congressman Bucky fic trope. Kinda same, kinda different, as I wanted to focus on his campaign, or rather, all that comes before he is elected.

My train of thought was simple.

How did he get there? Did he have a whole campaign behind him? Who were these people, and how can I write it as a fanfic? Basically, I wanted to imagine this whole scenario.

Also, yes, Nobody's Soldier and Church are still ongoing, just my brain decided to focus on this one now (ADHD at its best)

_______________

As always, this is cross-posted to Ao3 and Wattpad

CW: Anger, anger issues, arguments, fighting, smoking, curse words, Bucky Barnes is a warning himself, enemies to lovers trope, angst with happy ending, female reader, politics, congress run, lots of talking and thinking, no major warning in this one apart from arguments and curse words.

(chapter is 2k long, wanted to keep it short)

_______________

Chapter - 01

It was right in the middle of the election season for Congress that Bucky came up with the idea, or rather, was pressured into running for the position. 

It wasn't exactly a safe scenario for him, as it could either go terribly wrong or, on the contrary, spectacularly right.

He wasn't known to be a very positive person per se, so in the run for the seat he was in dire need of help.

A lot of it. He wouldn't let this go, he had made a promise after all. A promise to himself, first and foremost, a promise to do it right with what he had at hand.

That's where he decided, with the connections he already had, to hire a whole team. It should have been an easy task, right? It was indeed not.

It was actually the worst thing he had ever done in his life, and he had done a lot of things, very bad things.

On top of that, he had a reputation, something that didn't help with what he was trying to achieve.

That's when you came in, a field expert, someone who had already managed multiple campaigns and won quite a few.

You had been assigned to him, he didn't choose you directly, and it was obvious he didn't want you there, barely speaking to you even though he was required to do so. 

It was the worst part of it all, even if his anger issues were doing much better than in the past, he despised you there. Your confidence, the way you ordered him around and telling him what to do, it was triggering to him in a way, bringing back memories he wanted to put behind him. And he hated every second of it.

And yet that's where you were now, on the building floor you had rented to use as headquarters for the duration of the campaign, in his office, while trying to reason with him yet again.

"Mr. Barnes, we need more interns to hand out flyers, then there's another meeting this week, even though you repeatedly stated that you didn't want to attend any" you said, your tone firmer now with a slight authoritative edge to it, as you read out of the list in your hand.

But as you were about to add more, you heard him mumbling under his breath, causing you to glance up at him with an exasperated look.

He was sitting behind his desk, a few books and files around him, clearly annoyed. His fingers massaging his temple as if he would rather be anywhere else but here.

“Can you stop talking for a moment?” he said, his blue eyes fixed on you with a slightly irritated expression.

'‘There's no need for more for this goddam campaign,’ he then stated with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest as he now leaned back in his chair, avoiding your gaze.

At that, you sighed, rolling your eyes in annoyance as you tried not to start another argument. Not right now, at least.

"Trust me, I'd prefer to be anywhere else than here.." you replied, your tone dry as you now straightened your back, your own arms crossing over your chest as you held your clipboard tighter.

"But I can't just stop asking, believe it or not, your approval is needed with every move I make.." you bit back. 

"You told me to help you, and that's what I'm doing, James. It’s your campaign, after all, " You added, calling him by his name. It wasn't the first time, you were the only one allowed to do so, or at least the only one he seemed to accept it from.

When he looked back at you, a slightly intimidating gaze crossed his eyes as you continued your bickering. He was tired, annoyed and slightly in need of nicotine, even if he wasn't allowed to, as you told him it would be bad for his public image and his health. 

It was clear in every small detail, from his slightly furrowed brows to the hint of tension on his entire face, that he was tense, irritated even. 

"Then help me the way I want " he snapped back at you, his tone harsh as he leaned a bit forward.

"I could have gotten any other person on board, there’s plenty out there, “ he added, his tone slightly mocking, “but no, I’ve been told you were the best, that you knew what you were doing,” he added almost sarcastically. But his tone and mannerism were far from being amused as he nervously looked around, then down at the folders on his desk, before his eyes were back on you.

“But all I hear are complaints and useless requests, do your fucking job...” he grumbled as he ran a hand through his hair “...do what I’m paying you for”

"In case you didn't notice, that's exactly what I'm doing since this nightmare of a campaign started" you reacted, both your arms now along your sides, as your voice raised a bit while your hands clenched tight, still holding that damn clipboard.

"Have you ever wondered why you never had to give an interview or why journalists avoided you? No? That's because I took care of it," you added, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down as you closed your eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose in the process.

You waited a few moments more after that, just to be sure to set your mind straight and not overreact, not this time.

It was an everyday occurrence by now, whenever you had to refer to him, for anything really, you both ended up in a fight.

But especially today, you already had enough as there was still so much to do and you didn’t want to spend another minute being made fun of.

"Alright, alright... never mind…I'll do it myself then.." you then stated, opening your eyes and glancing up at him before exiting his office.

"But start answering your phone, I won't accept another missed call from you"

With that, you closed the door behind you, slamming it hard, walking back to your own office to make some more calls as sponsors waited for no one. 

He didn't move from where he was, his gaze fixed on the door to his office now closed, his jaw slowly relaxing as he slowly let out a breath.

He knew he was being difficult, making your and everyone else's job hell, harder than it needed to be. 

He also knew you were trying your damn best to maintain the campaign afloat while dealing with his stubborn ass. He knew that if it wasn't for you, everything would have collapsed around him sooner rather than later.

But he couldn’t help himself sometimes, he trusted very few people, despite everything, and right now he didn’t trust you.

"Shit..." he muttered, his fingers running through his hair again, tugging at it in his frustration.

He knew that he couldn't just snap back at you as much as he wanted, not after you did so much already. 

The last thing he needed was you walking out on him, he had made that mistake before, you already quit once when he started questioning your work, at the very start of this whole shitshow and he wasn't going to repeat that.

He stayed like that for a few more minutes, until he decided that he needed some fresh air.

Slowly, he got himself to stand up from his chair and exited the room, walking over to where he knew was the way outside.

On the other hand, when you were once safe in your own office, you let out a loud sigh, stopping for a moment against the door before walking over to your desk, not really looking at the chaos that you left on it between documents and half-written statements that you needed to finish..

You were angry, mad, even as this man was probably the most annoying and stubborn you had ever met in your whole career.

To be fair you met a lot of different and weird people, from serial cheaters to straight-up assholes. You've met almost anything that existed on the face of the earth..

In comparison, he was a really good person, and apart from his past, which he was pardoned for, he had an impeccable life.

A lonely one that is, but still, he literally had no dirty secrets that you didn't know of.

And you always knew everything about the people you worked with and for.

Even when you sat down, you kept rethinking about the whole argument while you started busying yourself again, a stack of documents still needing signing, and there was already a list of people you had to call before the day was over.

You sighed at that, looking around for a moment, figuring it out what to do first before starting with the long list of calls.

But then when you looked up, after a minute or so after the first two calls, you noticed him walking down the corridor and out of the building, but you didn't think much of it, as it was a regular occurrence when he was nervous. 

Bucky inhaled deeply, the cool air filling his lungs as he took a look around. 

He wasn't a fan of city life, he couldn't say that New York was his favorite place, or even one that he appreciated. It used to be his home once, but now he felt trapped, to the point he couldn’t breathe sometimes, reminding him of the time he lost in captivity.

Still, it was good to get some air, to try and clear his mind, even if he knew that his thoughts would stay occupied by the same thing that was bothering him.

Bucky leaned against the wall next to the entrance and pulled out a folded cigarette from the pockets of his jacket.

And while he was lost in his own thoughts he lit the cigarette, taking a slow drag as he looked up towards the evening sky.

He had to deal with the campaign - that was something he promised and he was going to do it, but the part he was loathing was you.

You were a constant on and off thing, either he wanted you around or he didn't want to see you anywhere near him. It was honestly frustrating.

Everything really was right now. He couldn’t choose, he couldn’t run away or hide, and he couldn’t fight it. He just had to learn to deal with it, and he didn’t know where to start. 

Bucky took another drag from the cigarette, keeping the smoke in his lungs for a few moments before letting it out, his gaze dropping to the ground as he closed his eyes. 

He was frustrated as hell, and even the cigarette alone couldn't relax him.

He was getting himself worked out over this whole thing, over you, and that made him even more tired. 

He wasn't used to being the one who snapped and couldn't get things done, but here he was, in a damn campaign that he initiated for a promise he made long ago.

Meanwhile, as you were still in your office, you started to feel the heavy weight of the day on your shoulders, your eyes started to hurt the more you looked between the file you were reading and your computer.

You didn't want to go home yet, even if you knew almost too well you had an early rise the next morning, mostly to contact the major news channels.

Then you had a fundraiser to program, and new interns to hire.

This was getting even more complicated than usual, your actual boss not helping you in any way, as he was mostly uninterested in the whole thing and the ex-assassin allegations you had to fight off in order to make it look good in front of the people.

There was a lot in your head, too much to spend another night here.

So you just decided to go home, taking a few documents with you.

_______________

Hello again <3 If you're reading this, thank you.

Kept this one short as i wanted to test it out if people like it or not. so if you like it, feel free to comment or give any advice.

Next chapter will be up soon.

[adimouze]

an incomplete list of truly unhinged shit max verstappen has said/done this year about daniel ricciardo

said he should have taken a picture of daniel asleep on the plane next to him because it was sooooo funny bearing in mind no one found it funny (daniel found it funny)

checked out at daniel on the honda thanks day podium then tucked his hair behind his ear when daniel looked at him

honda day in general (kart fucking, passenger princessing)

asked if he was going to go on a romantic date with daniel

when said it wasn't a romantic date he y/n-ed a date at daniel's farm where they would be racing dirt bikes and daniel (someone who has experience with dirt bikes) would be getting injured but they both would be missing the next few races

used checo and yuki as padel nets for their game of pretend padel while scotty james (another daniel ricciardo harem member) stared off into the distance

walked so far off ahead with daniel during filming that marketing could barely point them out in the photo

pointing and laughing at checo's rendition of suzuka circuit together

said, in front of nico hulkenberg, kevin magnussen, checo perez and god himself that he would choose to go to a deserted island with daniel and just daniel

said he couldn't describe daniel in just three words

said everything is better with daniel right next to his teammate

hitting each other with fishing nets in monaco

max placing his hand on the railing behind daniel while taking a photo

daniel casually walking into an interview max is doing and bringing him stroopwaffels when asked

called daniel a horny man

let daniel walk him through the paddock with his hand on max's back

"it is of course daniel" and the world's biggest smile

answered daniel for most things

told everyone he hated going to goodwood then looked like he had the most fun with his legs tucked up next to daniel

sat next to each other the entire time and hoped they could be teammates (for the WEC!!! ofc!!! sneaky look)

spent an entire drivers parade shitting on his car with daniel (who is in another team)

walked past his teammate to leave for the summer break without talking because he was with daniel

HELICOPTER RIDE INTO THE SUNSET

singapore padel date

defended daniel to the world without prompting

singapore walk in the rain

"thank you daniel"

"he can have whatever he wants"

liked every single post daniel made within seconds except the one where he's cuddled up with another man

monaco padel date with daniel in last night's clothes

[telesodalite]

Been thinking about idw1's outliers lately, and how sort of wild the whole concept is from a worldbuilding standpoint, and it struck me that most confirmed outlier abilities tend to be really useful, or flashy, or powerfully dangerous, and few to none tend to be like, really boring, or totally impractical, or even entirely useless? Which, doesn't really make sense when considering the fact that outlier abilities are seemingly random.

Surely not everyone who's born an outlier gets something useful?

And I don't mean like, "good" useful, but any sort of useful, even if that means you can kill people with your voice, or give a power boost by exploding yourself, those are still "useful".

But surely there had to be some with abilities that were totally impractical, or nonbeneficial, or at the very least just insignificant or purely aesthetic and pointless?

[cheswirls]

looking @ old fic i started when i was 14/15 is so funny bc im realizing once again why i never mark fics as abandoned even if its been literal years since i've touched them. specifically i was checking docs for stuff i started and either did or didn't post to ffn.

and its like. nothing is bad??? like i can see where my outside-the-box ideal of fic writing comes from. not just fics but writing in general, i'm p sure. even if it's a total cliche plot setup, there are details on each that rly make it stand out like oh yeahhhhhh i did have this great idea once upon a time.

funny too bc was it executed well in prose??? no absolutely not i wrote like shit when i was 15. would i revive an idea one day and revise it to be less cliche or cringy while still keeping the stand-out elements??? yea maybe. i might. everything i'm currently working on that i started from 2021 up to now still holds my supreme interest, but like i'm not gonna say never.

esp since i write fic first and foremost for my own need and specifically what i like to read, it makes it impossible to consider an idea i've thought extensively about "not worth writing anymore". anyway not making this too long i jus found everything interesting to consider

[cynicalmusings]

concert pianist!xiao is currently on the brain…

[mossmx]

I have to disagree.

It serves a similar function to "Author Choose Not To Warn", Dead Dove with no other indication means there will be dark and possibly disturbing themes and you decide if you want to take the risk finding out about what's fucked up.

to me it's more than enough.

Tags on AO3 are a first and foremost a way to *find* things to read, not just a way to signal for those who want to avoid them. For people who like fucked up stuff that is useful and that helps them decide.

If a movie says "fucked up horror" it will attract people who are into fucked up horror, and probably people who don't need further specifications.

If that's not enough for you it's a good sign to skip it.

Pointing this out bc authors are under no obligation to tag for everything.

The expectation they must is entitled, when there's so much stuff out there for free and you can just choose to skip and not complain.

I actually don’t mind that “dead dove” has become conversational shorthand for “fics with heavy themes where you REALLY need to pay attention to the warnings”. such is the nature of language. what i do mind is when people tag their actual fics with dead dove and then give no indication of what they’re actually warning about. that is useless. that helps no one. that is completely against the spirit of the meme. i will not be reading that

[ekingston]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

PLEASE check my later versions of this post via my main page to make sure you have the latest version of this post before you reblog. All the information I’ve been able to gather is in my reblogs below, and it's frustrating to see the old version getting passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much!

[aria0fgold]

Ariaaaaaa

I thought of "what if in 400 years cain still thinks about nicholas just like faust still thinks about alec" and i made myself saaaaad

And you decided to inflict that sad thought onto me 😭 How dare you /lh. Ya think Cain also made Nicholas a grave to give flowers to him in addition to the graves he's already visiting too? 😔There's also the fact that Nicholas' grave is empty cuz he didn't even leave a body, he just turned to dust. And Cain wasn't even the one that dealt the last blow like he first declared.

[marknee]

bts fanfics i think shakespeare would enlist himself into the military just to show the boys.

chapter iv. ✷ chapter vi.

KEYS ON SEVERITY OF SHAKESPEARE’S STATE:

( ✮ ) — he’s not really thinking about enlisting, is he?

( ♬ ) — what do you mean shakespeare shaved his head?.. oh no.

( ✎ ) — don’t military bases have security? how the hell did that man get inside?

( ♛ ) — he’s proper pulling a cross country right now. the boys look confused. and horrified.

THE SHAKESPEARE SERIES.

WARNING: keep in mind, some of these authors are very strict on the rule that no minors should read their work if they’re underage, and i will honour that. but, at the end of the day, i am not your parent. so, there’s that. but heed my warning wisely. any smut or 18+ content is highlighted in bold.

NOTE: dear readers, did you miss me? it’s been a while since i’ve shared my secret recommendations with you. but, since the two year anniversary of this special series has recently passed, i thought it was about time i spoiled you again. i’ve had quite a while to think about this one. so, i hope you’re ready. let’s give shakespeare something to enlist for.

( ♛ ) AMALTHEA — by @daechwitatamic

!! seokjin x reader | 40k !!

best friend’s older brother!au, smut (18+), fluff, angst.

bfb! bfb! my best friend’s brother, my friend’s brother! bfb! bfb! my best friend’s brother, my best friend’s brother!

this is one of the BEST seokjin fics i’ve ever read. straight to the point but there is no other way to put it. got to the point i would wake up earlier just to read another chapter before work. i was always present, bitch.

alike most of you, as someone who reads A LOT (re: i have no credentials for this, just my mum), i can tell when someone pours their every blood, sweat and tears (ha.) into writing. and for me, this is one of those writers.

this writer really shocked me at how much i connected to this story whilst reading n how attached i felt after finishing. caught me off guard, but so did death to shakespeare… sooo, what can i say.

“it’s been over a decade since that night, and you still don't know if he meant his family, or you.” dude i wish you could’ve seen my face. lmfao.

let’s just say there’s a reason this one’s first. amazed. truly.

( ♛ ) MOON MAGIC — by @jincherie

!! hoseok x reader | 33.8k !!

mermaid!au, pirate!au, fluff (like.. teeth rotting).

“and he calls me mooonlight toooooo,” she sings into the empty crowd with tears in her eyes. she meaning me.

now i know i’m known for having a sweet tooth, but damn! youse are gonna eventually turn me into an elizabethan england commoner. y’know, the crap dental hygiene n all. (re: shakespeare’s teeth.)

but, you know me. i looooove a good ‘ol fantasy inspired fic, so i guess i’m willing to risk a little here. and this one was worth risking for.

slams hand onto the table. the world building! this writer was not playing around when it came to painting us a picture of the world they wanted to create. i wanna live in this fic i’m not joking. get me in touch with namjoon asap for some of that moon magic shit. ok, rolls credits.

perfect in every single way. this is my first run-in with this writer, but am i swimming (sorry.) my way over to their masterlist? yeeees.

“he laughs and tells you that, actually, it's probably the youngest three princes that are most beloved by all.”

yea girl. not on my watch. enjoy!

( ✎ ) ALL GROWN UP — by @btsgotjams27

!! jungkook x reader | 64k !!

friends to lovers, older woman/younger man, smut (18+).

the fact this fic was loosely inspired by one of my all-time comfort kdramas… i didn’t even have to question adding it to my list. it felt like i was watching it for the first time again… deeply sighs. ahhh the nostalgia…

i had this fic bookmarked on my ao3 for the looongest time, but it was only recently that i got round to actually reading it. and i’m so glad i did. bless her, she was waiting for her moment to shine. and it’s now.

youngest kids in the family please raise your hands! all in attendance! you are welcome and appreciated here. the feeling of desperation, trying to get people to see you as your current age rather than the little kid they’ll forever remember. i think that’s why i loved this fic so much: i could relate to it.

alike this story, most fics on here are on the older side of things. but honestly, if it’s good and genuine, it’ll last forever. no matter how much time has gone by. feelings stay - perhaps even grow?

the same for our adorable pair over here. could time play in their favour?

you let me know when you finish it.

( ✮ ) ALIVE AHA FXCK — by @softyoongiionly

!! vampire!yoongi x human!reader | 42k !!

vampire!au, smut (18+), soulmate!au (you know i had to), please read the trigger warnings.

devoured. no pun intended. though other vampire synonyms include but are not limited to: consumed, ate, guzzled, feasted etc… thank you google, after a few questionable internet searches.

i cannot tell you how glad i am that shakespeare never wrote about vampires. cuz he would’ve written my ass into that damn thing and killed me off from the things i’ve said about that guy. and the things i will continue to say…

i love this fic on a personal level. it reminds me of being fourteen again, curled up in my sheets as the sun reaches the tip of my windowsill and the morning chill settles in after a night of fighting sleep to finish a fanfic. it’s safe - i’m safe.

i genuinely had so much fun reading this story. the characterisation of both the reader and yoongi is so unhinged and playful and i’m obsessed. if i could recommend it to anyone, it would be my younger self cuz i know she’d love it :,). n she did!

y’know, sometimes you just gotta read a silly - infused with twilight puns - vampire-themed yoongi fic for the world to feel alright again.

and it did - for me. n now - for you.

( ♛ ) OLDER — by @lovieku

!! dilf!jk x inexperienced!reader | 18.2k !!

smut (18+), dilf!au, best friend’s father, age gap.

pure, undeniable and utter filth. in the best fuckin’ way possible. yea, if you could crawl into my mind, plunge into the inky depths of whatever lurks there.. this is what you’d find lying on the sand floor. unadulterated sin.

i am so disgustingly obsessed with this fic i can’t explain it, hence why it’s ended up on my shelf of recommendations. it scratches and pleases a deep, desperate itch in my brain. maybe it’s the age gap, who knows?

this writer has a talent for making us - or, me. - claw at something forbidden in an almost hungry advance. the sinner doing the sinning. and goddamn, i’m impressed. n i bet shakespeare is too. well, he fuckin’ better be.

the characters are imperfect and selfish and lustful, but oh my god i love them. add on dilf!jk with his slutty, unbuttoned shirts and you have me sold.

@lovieku you are such an amazing writer. you have such a way with how you express. do not underestimate that. i am beyond excited to see your future works :)

masterpiece. but what the fuck was that ending.

( ♛ ) HABITS OF A CLANDESTINE NATURE — by @alphabetboyluvr

!! college!jk x female!oc | 16k !!

rich!jk, waitress!oc, enemies to lovers, smut (18+).

he got, he got away! he got away! he got away! he’s got a way, he’s got a way! awayyyyheyeyyyyheyyy! yea, but didn’t manage to escape a 460-year-old poet, nor me.. so..

clementines, fruit trees, the sound of innocent laughter, wind chimes, a sheer blur of colour, soft hands. things that come to mind whenever i am reminded of this fic. a solid and beautiful depiction of hurt and love and everything in between.

this writer knew straight off the bat how to sell this pair to the audience. how to capture us and string us along for the journey of two hurting, longing and hurting all over again. shakespeare bought the hanging fruit that’s for damn sure… me too then, perhaps.

the vision for this story is perfect to me. i almost want to give the writer a kiss on the forehead.

i did write down one quote; used from the story. a way to sum it all up. “the perfect place to get lost. the perfect place to get found, too.”

if you’re looking for somewhere to get lost, i hope this satisfies that need. i also hope i come back to read this every once in a while. for old times sake. to get found again.

( ♬ ) GUILTY AS SIN — by @gldrushh

!! brother in law!jungkook x widow!reader | 32k !!

forbidden love!au, smut (18+), angst.

“it began to lose its meaning. healing. as if it were something—a destination you could stumble upon.” oh, don’t even talk to me. people died. shakepeare died. april 23rd 1616.

god, this story is just so raw in and of itself - perfectly depicting the human experience of love and loss. inevitable and sometimes unexpected. i was - n still remain - in awe.

i crossed by this fic unexpectedly and i’m so glad that whatever butterfly effect led me to finding this succeeded, but damn that action also had consequences… like real bad… haha….

i want to cry every time this fic crosses my mind. dramatic? lil bit. but when you read it, holy shit - this will make sense to you young’uns. in due time.

well, to be even more dramatic as such… my wounds from reading this are still fresh (i will sob don’t test me), so i hand the torch over to you to make of this story what you will.

please go into this fic with no expectations. go in willingly and just… fall into it. i will be on the other side when you resurface and i will definitely say something ironic.

like i told you so. xx.

( ♛ ) CALLING PRODUCER MIN YOONGI — by @bangtan-dreamland

!! yoongi x reader | 4.6k !!

strangers to lovers, just fluff all around.

now this is the bitch i aspire to be. dials random ass numbers of random ass strangers just to yap. oh yea, that’s my kinda girl. i just hope she knows she’s the coolest person ever to exist to me. i want to buy a star for her. a big, bright one.

i think i have said this before, but never ever underestimate the power of a drabble. a short fic of little can hold the weight of ten times that amount. especially this one (which i read that long ago but has ultimately ended up here - says it all tbh).

this fic is everything and more to me. i miss it when i’m not reading it, and i miss it when it’s right in front of me. it has me wanting to ring up random people in hopes of meeting my true love - which i won’t, but who knows what might happen?

also, to point out - the immense chemistry between these characters is off the charts. felt like i was intruding on my own phone call.

good dialogue? tick. amazing characterisation? tick. interesting plot? tick. has shakespeare wanting to never learn how to use a phone in case he puts this fic to shame? tick.

lol.

( ✎ ) THE LOVE PROGNOSIS — by @awrkive

!! surgeon!jk x surgeon!reader | 90.9k !!

roommates!au, medical!au, smut (18+), fluff.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh. aaaand scene!

can i be honest? y’all stress me the fuck out! and you know who you are! starts with ‘j’ ends with ‘k’. the other one being ‘s’ ends with ‘e’. but one of you i like more and it’s not you, shakespeare.

the time it took me to finish this insanely crafted three-parter was embarrassingly short. (i think i formed a dent in my bed). so when i finished i was - obviously - heartbroken, so i did what every sane person does. i read all the drabbles. aaaand the tlp social media extras. and listened to the playlist. and cried. duh.

whilst all the fics on here deserve their own kdrama, i feel this one would ruin me completely. it’s weightlifting fairy kim bok joo all over again. it’s potential is there. like, c’mon screenwriters. i know you want to. or just pay me to do it.

the characters, the yearning, the friendship - immediately gets flashbacks… - ten’s across the board!

@awrkive is one to look out for. for real. i - along with everyone else here - will be tuning in. full volume.

oh yea, whilst we’re all still here. fuck that other guy. you know who you are! (no spoilers here).

( ♛ ) LET’S GET QUIZZICAL — by @taleasnewastime

!! jimin x f!reader | 28.6k !!

friends to lovers, angst, smut (18+).

sooooo… what i’m hearing is.. we all weren’t aware flo rida’s stage name is just florida with a space..? right? right.? cuz when you say it like that..

having been a victim of multiple pub quizzes in my past (haven’t won - yet!) the dialogue in this story was fucking perfect and scary real, depicting the anxiety, thrill and pure adrenaline running through your body as you rack your brain of every dumb fact you’ve ever read and hope it’s made a home somewhere up there.

not to mention you gotta trust your teammates like your life depends on it - cuz it fuckin’ does. n park jimin being one of them? the rest of the teams… y’all better not even bother showing up atp.

i thought the manor of the story being told through its settings was.. a slice of genius. so so cool and helped set the tone too. every time we transported back to the quiz i clutched my pearls in sheer relief.

also, i wish i could’ve highlighted angst in bold cause damn! you really hit us round the head with that one. and ofc i loved it, but damn. take notes, shakespeare. we don’t have to be killing characters off to ruin mk’s life. hm?

nothing less than spectacular from our @taleasnewastime.

( ♬ ) TRICKS OF THE TRADE — by @stutterfly

!! yoongi x reader | 24.1k !!

body swap!au, soulmates!au (you know me), smut (18+), humour.

peers down through speckled glasses, what’s next..? …oh god. sighs heavily and licks pen.

so i knew from the moment i read ‘body swap’ within the tags that this concept was gonna be so fuckin’ weird but so damn good. and low n behold, it didn’t disappoint. luckily i am a lover of fuckin’ weird.

this concept is so difficult to write. the foreign sensation of a different body and trying to channel each thought n emotions involved is complicated to convey, but this author did it so incredibly well.

also, not to be that person… but that smut… i’m gon’ be sleeping soooo well tonight let’s just say that lmfao. 100/10. might go back n read it when i’m done with this.

blushing… X

shakespeare couldn’t even fathom a story such as this - and we’re talking about the guy who once wrote about an incestuous relationship between a king and his daughter.

crazy work. you are so cool @stutterfly.

( ✎ ) TRIVIA LOVE — by @luxekook

!! namjoon x reader | 5.4k !!

non idol!au, smut (18+).

to quote myself from my reblog on feb 26 2020, “why was i smiling the whole way throughout this??” n you know what? hell yea i still stand by that!

this is the second pub quiz fic i have within this chapter (surprisingly, but not disappointing), but the circumstances cannot be more different.

the first group i would join, perhaps even rally with a little. but if i’m ever attending a pub night and these mother fuckers are in tow, best believe i’m leaving. they’re not ones to fuck with yo. they have $20 to win. they mean war.

since we’re at the end, and i’m 100% convinced nobody is still reading these, soooo… i can speak my truth. someone get me on joon’s lap. you gon’ be calling me cinderella cuz it’s gonna fit perfectly by midnight bro. on the dot.

this is - n will always be - a classic to me. one that i will always return to eventually. i can dress up all i want with these big fics, but these smaller ones are always a guilty pleasure.

like cinderella returning to her mice friends (or whatever), i will always come back to @luxekook and their stories.

forever xoxo.

MARKNEE’S SPECIAL MENTIONS:

caught my attention, and deserve their flowers.

( ♬ ) THE DEVIL SKATES ON THIN ICE — by @vankoya

!! yoongi x reader | 60.5k !!

winter sports!au, fluff, angst, humour.

my love life also skates on thin ice. lmfao. especially after this.

( ✎ ) KNOCKED — by @sailoryooons

!! streamer!seokjin x f!reader | 10.6k !!

roommates to lovers, smut (18+), humour.

more like she’s about to knock him out.

( ♬ ) NEFARIOUS — by @yoonia

!! jimin x f!reader | 39.2k !!

sex club!au, gentlemen club!au, smut (18+).

lets out a long sigh. won’t be in a rush to forget this one.

( ✎ ) THINGS WE DON’T SAY — by @wintaerbaer

!! taehyung x reader | 54.5k !!

best friends to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut.

the found family trope is strooong.

© marknee, 2025. all rights reserved.

[navybrat817]

Sweet as a Berry

Pairing: Farmer!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: You go to the local market to buy berries and meet the man of your dreams.

Word Count: Over 3.5k

Warnings: Fluff, meet-cute, flirting, tension, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Welcome to my Bountiful Harvest AU ( or Farmer Fall as discussed with @thezombieprostitute and @witchywithwhiskey ) and our intro to farmer!Bucky. Thanks to @yenzys-lucky-charm and @targaryenvampireslayer for letting me babble about this man. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Your weekly trip to the farmers market was one you looked forward to. A place for merchants to come together to offer an abundance of products, there was always something to browse or discover. Today you only had one thing on your list: berries for your pies. Frozen fruit did the job, but you preferred to bake your pies with fresh fruit. Buying from the market was also a way to support local farmers. Maybe one day you'd even bag a handsome farmer for yourself. It was a silly fantasy, of course, but your mind liked to wander some days.

Not that there was anything wrong with city men, but they couldn't compare to a man working on a farm. There was just something about a guy who knew how to work with nature and provide, wasn't intimidated by hard work or afraid to get his hands dirty, and had a strong body and character due to his work ethic. You liked to think you’d make a good wife and take care of him the way he’d take care of you. You also liked to imagine a handsome man walking inside after a long day and stripping down and wanting dessert before a hearty meal. And by dessert, you meant you.

For now, you were only a farmer’s wife in your dreams and journal.

The gravel crunched under your tires as you turned down the road, the market coming into focus. You made good time and managed to snag a decent parking space. A little bit of walking wouldn’t hurt. Plus the day was nice enough that you wore one of your sundresses, the soft breeze pleasant against your skin once you got out of your car.

Lively chatter greeted you as you got closer to the stalls and booths and expertly weaved your way through the bustling crowd. The various produce and flowers created a kaleidoscope of colors, brightened more by the brilliant rays coming from the sun. The earthy fragrance that blended with the sweet and ripe aromas was one you only encountered here. There was nothing else quite like it.

Quick movement in front of you made you come to a stop, your heart jumping. Had you not been paying attention you would've collided with a little boy. “Mama, there's Dada! He’s getting honey!” He shouted as he ran past and threw his arms around a man’s legs.

“Walk, please, and watch where you're going!” His mother said after him, a both fond and exasperated look on her face as she gave you a tired smile. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“No apologies,” you smiled. He hadn't done anything wrong. “I wish I had that energy.”

“Same. I’d bottle and sell it,” she said over her shoulder.

Watching as the woman went to her son and husband, both of them looking at her like the sun rose today because of her, you felt a twinge of sadness. Your trips to the market were solo, always had been. You longed to have a partner to go with, someone to put his arm around you or hold your hand as you picked out items together. Even better if the two of you could make a family down the line.

With a wistful smile, you shook yourself from those thoughts. There was no reason to feel sorry for yourself. Just because you didn't have that in the present didn't mean it wouldn't happen in the future. You had to have faith that the right one would come along at the right time.

For now, you would find some berries and be on your way.

Walking a bit further, you spotted a booth you hadn't seen in your previous visits. The sign that read “Barnes’s Berries” complete with hand painted fruit pieces piqued your curiosity as you stopped in front of it. As the customers in front of you paid for their bundles and blocked the view of the person assisting them, you took a minute to admire the range of berries reflecting a spectrum from blues to reds. Your mouth watered from the sight. There were so many things you could do with these. Pies, jams, cakes-

A deep, husky voice asked, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

You made some sort of sound as you turned around, your heart pounding in your chest. The man in front of you was tall with thick thighs that deliciously filled out his jeans. The rolled up plaid shirt exposed part of his arms. The left was covered in tattoos and the ink couldn't hide the muscles or veins. If anything, it accentuated his strength. His chest and shoulders seemed to go on for miles, too. The chestnut hair that fell below his chin and stubble on his face gave the already handsome man a rugged look.

Sapphire eyes crinkled when you made eye contact and he smiled so softly that you couldn't help but smile in return. A man of his size and stature working a berry stand when he looked like he could easily chop wood or build his own home was otherworldly. He didn't just step out of your fantasy. He took your thoughts and made them better than you could've imagined.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” He asked again a bit hesitantly when you didn’t answer his question. “If you're still looking, please, take your time.”

“You’re real, right?” You asked, your face heating up as the words left your mouth. A giggle followed because you couldn’t believe you just said that. “What I meant to say is, yeah. Just looking for now,” you added to save face, smoothing out your dress for no reason.

Amusement filled his eyes, the soft smile still tugging at his lips. “I sure hope I’m real and not just a figment of your imagination.”

You wished you could reach out and touch him to “prove” he was real, but didn’t want to weird him out. “Not a figment of my imagination,” you said, but that wasn’t totally true. You very much imagined a man like him when you were alone at night. “But I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” It wasn't like you knew every single vendor, but you would've remembered him.

He sure as hell had a face worth remembering.

“I’m Bucky,” he introduced, offering you his hand. His grip was gentler than you expected, but there was no mistaking the roughness in his touch. The man worked with his hands and it showed. “This is actually my first week here.”

You said your name, proud that you remembered it with the way he was staring so intently at you. He stood a bit close, too. Close enough that you could smell his woodsy cologne. Subtle, yet enticing. “I hope everyone has been welcoming.”

“Most have been very friendly, which has made my job easy,” he said. You could imagine with his looks and friendly demeanor despite his size that he’d have a lot of repeat customers. “A couple of my friends recently started selling here, too, so it’s good to have some familiar faces close by.”

“That’s really nice. I’m sure they're glad you're close by, too,” you smiled. You wondered who his friends were. “Did you have to travel far to get here?”

“Yeah, they’re good guys,” he smiled back, your heart racing when he ran a hand through his hair. “Not too far since my farm is only a few miles away, which also makes things easier. Makes me wonder why I didn't do this sooner.”

You nearly swooned. Your dream man was becoming dreamier by the second. “You have a farm not too far from here?”

It would’ve been easy to assume he did since he had a stand here, but not everyone who worked the market had their own land. It was also easy to assume he wasn't married since you didn't see a ring on his left hand or any sort of tan line or indentation to indicate that he removed a ring. A man like that though probably had a partner. It wasn't worth getting your hopes up.

“Yeah. I have a few acres. Beautiful place. but if I’m being honest it gets a bit lonely since it’s just me out there with no one to share it with.” He scratched the back of his neck with a small chuckle and avoided your gaze. “I don't know why I said that. That’s kind of embarrassing.”

Your stomach did a funny flip. Not just because he pretty much let it slip that he wasn't with anyone when you assumed moments ago that he was, but from the urge to comfort him taking over. You wished you could wrap him in a hug.

“Well, I don't have a farm, but I understand feeling lonely some days,” you admitted. Being vulnerable with a complete stranger wasn't how you expected your day to go, but you wanted him to know he wasn't alone in that feeling. “And it’s not embarrassing,” you assured him. If anything, it was endearing.

He slowly met your gaze. “I appreciate that.” He rubbed the back of his neck again as your heart began to race. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but I find it hard to believe that someone as sweet and beautiful as you gets lonely.”

The compliment left you momentarily dazed before a shy smile graced your face. You could've said the same thing about him. Maybe the instant connection you felt wasn’t so one-sided. “Well, I do. Even coming here, I’m usually by my lonesome” you said, the words not at all bitter. Just honest. “And do you call all potential customers sweet and beautiful?”

“No, I don’t.” He continued to gaze at you before he cleared his throat. “But you said potential customer. If I made you uncomfortable…”

“You didn’t.” It was gentlemanly that he wanted to make sure that his comment didn’t put you off. “There’s a stand a little further down that I sometimes stop at, though your berries are extremely tempting.”

Bucky’s brows pinched before he snapped his fingers. “Jed, right? He’s actually not here this week. Had an accident recently. Broke his leg.”

You gasped. “Oh, my god. That’s awful.” Jed was a kind, older farmer who had been there for as long as you could remember. A hard worker who didn’t deserve any kind of pain. “I hope he heals quickly.”

Bucky nodded solemnly. “So, do I,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m no Jed, but is there anything I can do to get your business today?”

The hopeful look in his blue eyes had you smiling slightly. “Well, I-”

“Wait. Let me try to guess what you’re specifically looking for before you tell me.” He waited until you nodded. “Clearly berries, but not for anything like a fruit salad or an everyday snack,” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and you tried not to giggle when he grinned triumphantly. “Pies. You want berries to make pies. Blueberries, right? Maybe blackberries, too. And if I had to pick a third, raspberries.”

Your mouth fell open. Was he a mind reader? “Yeah, that’s exactly it. Blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries. I have this triple berry pie recipe that I love and I make the crust from scratch and…” You bit your lip to keep from rambling. He didn’t need to hear all that. “Sorry. I just like to bake.”

“No apologies.” His light touch to your arm surprised you as he met your gaze. “You sound very passionate about it and I like that.”

You found yourself nodding, unable to tear your gaze away. It took everything within you to not blurt out how gorgeous he was. And on top of that, he was kind? Maybe he wasn’t real. “I am passionate about it. And not just pies. Other treats, too,” you said, nodding to the strawberries. “Those would be perfect for mini shortcakes or scones.”

He studied you with an appreciative smirk. The sundress was a good choice. “I have no doubt your treats are delicious and you are making me very hungry,” he said, your heart thudding. The smirk disappeared as quickly as it appeared when he gestured to his stand. “And I think they’ll be tastier with my berries.”

You blinked, stuck on the fact that he called your treats delicious. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like he called you delicious and he hadn’t tasted anything of yours, though you’d find a way to bake something and deliver it to him personally if he asked. “You sound very confident, Bucky.”

He puffed his chest out. “I take a lot of pride in all my crops. Tell you what,” he said, stepping away from you to grab a sample cup. “Why don’t you try some and see how you like them? If they aren't the best berries you’ve ever tasted, I’ll shut my stand down and let you on your way.”

“You’ll really shut your stand down? That’s a big wager,” you smiled, his fingers touching yours as he handed the cup over. It heated you up all over again. “The look of them alone is amazing,” you said, the vibrant berries beckoning for you to have a bite.

“Taste amazing, too, but I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

Bucky shot you a dazzling smile as you tried the blueberry first since that was the berry you were most interested in purchasing today. You didn’t care if it was mortifying, you outright moaned at the flavor when you bit down on the small and plump piece of fruit. Not overly sweet or acidic as the juice coated your tongue. It was the perfect balance. So much that you licked your lips and craved another.

Your eyes honed in on the rise and fall of Bucky’s chest before your gaze flickered to his face. His eyes were darker and you realized after a moment that he was staring at your mouth. A look like that could’ve made you choke on your breath, but it somehow gave you a burst of confidence. Testing the waters, you tried the blackberry next and made a show of licking your lips again at the sweet and succulent taste. The groan he let out shot a burst of heat between your legs.

God, he looked like he was ready to eat you whole.

“Delicious,” you said in a sultry voice you didn't recognize.

“You, um…” He brought a hand up and brushed his thumb along the corner of your mouth. You quivered when he showed you the drop of juice that you missed. Without breaking eye contact, he licked the drop away. It was a look that melted your insides when he said in a gruff tone, “You're right. Delicious.”

“Excuse me?” A woman spoke, making you jump back a bit from Bucky and pulling you both out of the moment. She might as well have dumped a bucket of cold water over your head. “I’d like to buy these.”

Your heart continued to race when you saw disappointment flash in his eyes. “Go ahead,” you smiled. He was there to do a job after all, not chat and flirt with you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky turned his head toward the customer. “Of course, ma’am,” he smiled, still glancing back at you momentarily as if was afraid you’d walk away if he didn’t keep an eye on you.

Biting your lip, you held in a giggle as you tossed the sample cup into the small wastebasket. You swore you felt him gazing at you as you gathered up the bundles. Maybe you didn’t need to bend so far over to get the last bundle, but was it wrong that you wanted him to look? It wasn’t every day that you had a kind, handsome farmer flirting with you. It would have you walking on cloud nine for the rest of the day.

Turning toward the table to pay, you gasped when you nearly collided with Bucky. He managed to grab your arms to keep you from falling and you somehow didn’t drop a single bundle as he stared into your eyes. “You know, I think you’re even sweeter than my berries,” he spoke in a low voice, swiftly taking everything from your hands and lining them in a box before your brain could process what he said. “This everything then?”

“Yeah.” You blinked and got your money out to pay. “Thanks. And keep the change.”

He shook his head when he saw the amount you gave him. “Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

“Please. I insist,” you smiled. He took a lot of pride in his work and any extra change could go toward that.

“I’ll keep it on two conditions,” he said, nodding to the box. “One, you let me be a gentleman and help you carry that to your car, that way you’re not stuck carrying it around.”

You nodded, butterflies in your stomach. “Okay, if you insist on being a gentleman.” He was nice enough that he wanted to step away from his stand and carry something for you. He really kept getting better and better. “And the second condition?” You asked with a coy smile. Maybe if you were lucky enough he’d ask for your number.

He reached behind him and presented you with another sample cup. “One more for the road? Please?”

You stamped down your disappointment that he didn’t ask for your number, which was more than okay. “How can I say no to that?” You popped the berries into your mouth without hesitation. They tasted ever sweeter than the first sample you had and you watched his eyes go to your neck as you swallowed. “Thanks. You really do have a gift,” you added to distract you from his heated gaze.

He looked humbled by the compliment. “I really do appreciate that,” he said, glancing over your shoulder to nod at someone. “Steve! You mind watching the stand until I get back? I’m gonna help her carry these to her car.”

You turned just in time to see a gorgeous blonde just as large as Bucky jog over from the stand across the way. “That’s nice of you, jerk. Real gentlemanly,” he smiled, giving you a small nod. “Ma’am.”

“Punk,” Bucky mumbled, but the affection was evident.

Another giggle worked its way out. Where did these men suddenly come from? Was there something in the water you didn’t know about? “You don’t need to call me ma’am, but thank you. And you’re right.” Your eyes went back to Bucky. “He is a gentleman.”

“And this is my cue to get you away from my friend before he says otherwise,” Bucky teased, steering you away with one hand while he balanced your fruit in the other.

“I don’t think I’ve seen him here either.”

“That was one of the friends I was talking about earlier. Has a farm, too, but his real passion is art,” he explained, his arm brushing against yours as he walked close. “He actually helped make my sign since I’m hopeless with that stuff.”

“That’s really nice,” you said, falling into a comfortable silence with him as you both maneuvered your way through the crowd. Once you got to the parking area, you pointed out your vehicle. “I’m just over there.”

Bucky’s gaze flickered over to you as you got your keys out. “I’m really glad you stopped at my stand today.”

Your heart fluttered when you caught the sun shining along his hair. “I’m glad I did, too,” you said softly, unlocking the car so he could set everything inside. Thank God it was clean. That would’ve been embarrassing. “But I should let you get back to work.”

He shifted on his feet, like he wasn’t quite ready to go. “Yeah, I should go.” He stepped forward and took a breath. “But I don’t think I can go back before I ask you to go on a date with me.”

You blinked. This wasn’t a drill. Bucky was asking you out. His tone was so gentle, his gaze so compelling. He was mesmerizing. He could’ve asked you to do anything and you likely would’ve done so without question.

“You want to take me out on a date?” You questioned, your mind screaming that your response was the wrong answer. This wasn’t a fantasy. It was really happening.

With an unsure chuckle, Bucky brushed a hand through his hair. “Too forward?” He smiled a little. “I’m sorry. I just thought that we…”

Your heart reacted to his uncertainty. It took a lot for anyone to put themselves out there and you wanted him to know it was worth the risk. “Not too forward at all, Bucky,” you smiled and placed your hand on his left arm, happy when he smiled back. “I'd love to go out with you.”

He took your hand in his when you went to pull your hand back. “I’m really glad you said yes,” he whispered.

“Me, too,” you sighed at his warm touch. It was the beginning of something special. You could tell. “So, when would you like to go on that date?”

And that is our intro! Now here is where it gets interesting: This story will go down two paths, one light and one dark. Be on the lookout for the continuation and choose your path (or choose both 😏). Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sinner-as-saint]

run for your life

Mob!Bucky x Reader 

Summary: He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with. 

Themes: slight stalker!bucky, possessive!bucky, mild degrading kink, smut, FLUFF, opposite aesthetics, mild daddy kink (nicknames only), cosy little town vibes 

a/n: some fluffy mob!bucky to end the year <3 Thank you so much for always supporting my silly little fics. Merry Christmas my darlings, and happy New Year!! See you soon ;)

He didn't know where exactly he would end up locating you, but finding you in a cosy, small, coastal town in the south of France was not on his list. 

You being the owner of a gourmet bakery was not on his list either. Bucky was confused, surprised, but mostly confused. How did this happen? At first, when Sam came to deliver him the news of your location that morning, Bucky didn’t believe him. Had Sam not been Bucky’s oldest, most loyal friend Bucky would’ve never believed him at all. 

“I’m gonna need you to stop being a dumbass and go find this girl!” Sam, ever the voice of reason yelled at Bucky who had been drowning in his sorrows. “It’s been months, and I can’t keep covering for your ass. I have my own shit to do, my own men to command.” He used that cool, authoritative voice of his. “Pull yourself together, Buck. Go find her.” 

Sam was right. Of course he was. He always was. And it had really been months since that damned night… 

— 

Bucky couldn’t wait to get out of his plane the moment it landed. It was late at night, but the perfect time to go to the club. He had missed it. Well, not the whole club really. Bucky had missed you. 

He had a… special connection with you. His girl. His only girl. His favourite girl. 

This time, he thought, he would do whatever he can to solidify whatever was happening between the two of you. Maybe he’d even get you to go on a real date with him. Maybe that would lead to something more. He was smiling to himself just thinking about it. 

He often thought back to the night you met. He was at the club after a long day of being the dark ruler he was. All he wanted was a drink and a pretty woman on his lap. That’s when he found you. 

Right as he walked in, you caught his eye. Walking around serving drinks, wearing a little see-through red dress that brought every man you walked past to his knees. 

Once he got to his booth, Bucky called you over. You walked towards him sheepishly. 

“I’ve never seen you around here before, beautiful.” He said, patting his thigh. He noticed the way you hesitated. Must be new, he thought. 

You carefully perched on his lap, holding your empty metal tray to your chest. Bucky smirked as he looked at it, like you were putting a makeshift barrier between the two of you. When you remained quiet and squirmy, Bucky spoke up again. 

“Come on, babygirl. Talk to me, it’s okay.” He whispered at his nuzzled your neck. “I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely, then I might.” 

His warm breath against your skin tickled. You chuckled as you pulled away to look at him. “Um, I’m just a waitress. I’m not supposed to…” You trailed off. Both of you were aware of the no-contact ‘rule’. But there was a natural, unexplainable spark there that neither of you could ignore. 

“Hmm,” His chest rumbled. “How about we go somewhere private?” He whispered into your ear and noticed the way you shivered. 

You hung your head, clutching your metal tray. “Waitresses aren’t supposed to go into the VIP rooms, sir.” You said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear you above the sensual music. 

Bucky smirked. Then leaned in and whispered, “I suppose I can bend the rules a little given I co-own the club.” 

You froze and went to stand up immediately, already apologising but he wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you on his lap. 

“It’s okay, babygirl. You’re not in trouble, I promise.” 

The two of you ended up in one of the VIP rooms. Nothing happened, you just kissed and talked and kissed some more. Bucky promised to come back. And he did. For months. Again and again and each time he did, you were drawn to him like he was gravity from the very moment he walked into the room. 

And that night he landed after being away for weeks, he expected you to run right into his arms the moment he’d enter the club like you always did. He even got you a nice little gift to make up for the time that he’d been away. It was a rare, red diamond choker. He could already imagine how it would look around your neck. Like a brand. His. 

But then he got to the club. And he noticed everyone was avoiding his eyes almost anxiously. And his girl was nowhere to be seen. He searched for you in the main area for a while, then even searched the VIP rooms, vowing to commit horrible crimes if he ever found you in there with another man. 

But no. 

He called Sam, who co-owned the club, and Sam had no idea who he was talking about. Bucky asked the staff members, and one bartender finally told him that you’d resigned a few weeks ago. And no one knew where you went. He asked for your full name, but no one knew that either. 

Not even Sam. “I didn’t even know we had a new waitress, Buck. I have more important shit to worry about.” He’d said, adding to the burning sensation in Bucky’s chest. 

“She left me.” 

Sam had no idea what his best friend was babbling about. And during the many months that followed, Bucky was a mess. A mess like Sam had never seen before. Frantically scanning country after country, searching for a girl with no name. He was in love, and he wasn’t giving up. He would find his girl come what may. 

—

But now Bucky knew where you were. 

And he was more confused than ever. He had even more questions. 

Bucky spent a whole week in that little town. Watching you, learning your routine, observing and questioning. He disguised himself as a local and always kept his distance even though his hands itched to touch you. 

At first he was bothered by how you were fine with living the same day everyday. Your routine seemed boring at first, but the more he watched, the more he realised it was sort of therapeutic. The normality of it all. 

He rented an apartment on the other side of the street from your bakery, and he spent hours watching you. 

You lived right above the bakery. A quaint apartment, with flower pots all around the french windows. Sometimes when you forgot to turn the lights off at night, Bucky spent the whole night spying on you, counting your breaths as you slept on your couch in front of the TV. 

You’d wake up at the crack of dawn, then you’d feed your dogs. He noticed you had two. Lazy, both of them. Then you’d get downstairs and within half an hour, the cool air that entered his apartment carried the smell of the sea and baked goods. 

All he wanted was to cross the cobblestone street and drag you to his bed, demand answers while fucking some sense into you. But the more he watched you, the more his anger diminished. Temporarily. 

The genuine smile on your face as you served your loyal customers all day, especially the ones who always came early in the morning on their way to work. The occasional sound of your voice or your laughter that slipped past whenever someone didn’t close the door right. The sound of children squealing and laughing whenever you gave away leftover baked goods or donuts in the evenings. How you knew almost everyone by name. How sometimes you invited neighbours over for wine nights. How you went on little walks in late, cool evenings, forcing your lazy pets to walk but then ending up having to carry them on the way back. They were spoiled, he realised. He hated to admit that he was jealous of the damned dogs who got so much of your attention while he starved for it. 

He wasn’t angry by the end of that first week of spying, he was just hurting. How dare you live a whole new life without him? How dare you laugh and seem like you don’t miss him? He’d just spent months looking for you and here you were, just going about your day like you didn’t care? Like none of those nights you’d spent together mattered? 

Meanwhile he was shaking just reminiscing the way your touch felt across his skin. He remembered the first time the two of you crossed that line in one of the VIP rooms…

You were wearing that red dress again. Fucking tease, he hissed each time you moved or squirmed on his lap. 

“Baby, please,” He groaned. “Just… let me touch you. Daddy will make you feel good, so good babygirl, I promise.” He pleaded, hands caressing your soft, warm thighs. 

You shook your head, popping another one of those chocolates he brought you into your mouth and sucking your fingers after. Torturing him. 

“We can’t,” You insisted, with nothing but mischief in your eyes as you looked at him. “You made these rules yourself, remember?” You chuckled when he groaned again when you straddled him properly. 

“I don’t give a shit about rules.” He hissed, nuzzling your neck. Slowly, he kissed up and down your neck. “I just wanna taste you. That’s it. Just a taste.” 

That’s how he found himself on his knees, face in between your thighs. His skilled tongue making you whine and whimper as you tugged on his hair. Bucky hummed in appreciation the more he tasted you. 

“Come on daddy’s face, baby…” 

That’s it. 

Bucky decided he would go see you the next morning. He would drag you back home if he had to, but he wouldn’t spend another day without you. Who did you think you were? No one just tosses him aside like this. He’d remind you who he was and then you’d both go home right away. 

—

Bucky woke up to a thunderstorm. Weather around here was unpredictable. He got out of bed and immediately looked outside to find your bakery empty. No customers in sight because of the heavy rain, lightning and thunder. The golden light was on though. 

He decided it was time to go have a talk with you. He promised not to lose his temper. He would go in there calmly, talk it out with you. Ask you what the fuck you are doing here, and then he’d take you home. 

But that ended up not happening. 

Bucky crossed the slippery cobblestone street, walked into your comforting, sweet smelling bakery and froze. He froze right there at the entrance. 

As did you. Standing there behind the wooden counter, oven mittens in your hand and apron in another, you stared at Bucky with nothing but pure shock and surprise on your face. A thousand thoughts, mainly questions, crossed your mind. 

What is he doing here? How did he find you? Why is he dressed casually like a local, wearing soft colours instead of his usual suits? How long has he been here? What is he doing here? 

You let out a little gasp. “Bucky?” 

Wrong move, apparently. Because his demeanour changed in a nanosecond. His calm and collected-ness was forgotten instantly. Jaws clenched, with a murderous look in his eyes, he walked closer, more like charged at you, and around the counter before you could even get a word out. 

He had you pinned to the nearest wall before you could process it all. Knocking down a framed picture in the process. Towering above you, he looked like he was beyond pissed. 

“Bucky, I—,” 

“Shut up.” He hissed, voice cold with bitterness and anger. He watched how you shivered when he pinned your wrists to the wall on either side of your head. “Shut the fuck up.” 

He leaned closer, chest pressing against yours leaving no space in between. He closed his eyes and sighed for a moment, trying his hardest to see reason but he was angry. So angry he couldn’t think. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He spoke with such a low voice that you trembled against him, causing him to tighten his grip around your wrists, surely bruising them. You didn’t care. 

You winced, “I can explain.” Fuck, you’d missed him too. It had been months since you last saw him. He was just as handsome as you remembered. His hair was a little longer now, his beard a little thicker. But he made your heart race just the same. “Please Bucky,” You whispered, “let me explain everything to you.” 

“No.” He growled before pressing his mouth to yours, angrily. Like he wanted his kiss to hurt. And it did. 

His rough facial hair scratched your skin, his teeth nibbled on and bit your lips. His hands damn near crushed your wrists in his strong grip. And he didn’t give you even the briefest second to breathe. He kissed you just like how he imagined he would do once he found you. Ravenously. Pouring everything he felt into it. Desperation, anger, hurt, obsession. He couldn’t get enough. 

“Bucky…” You gasped against his lips when he finally pulled away. Breathing fast, you tried to get a look at him but he just seemed even more angry. 

“Turn around,” He mumbled, forcing you to turn around anyway. Fuck, the sight of you in that long, flowy, sundress was doing things to him. He was never this bothered when you used to parade around in your little see-through dresses, but somehow the sight of you in this pink, floral dress was making him act like a caveman. 

His movements were rash and angry. He almost tore your dress off of you while he shoved his rough hand in between your legs and touched you where you desperately wanted him to. You whined and trembled against the cool wall when he slid a finger in, fucking you with it while he hissed into your ear. 

“I should punish you for what you did to me,” His deep voice made his chest rumble against your back. “I should tie you up and fuck you however I want.” 

Your dress was partially off, bunched and only hanging on around your waist. Being so dishevelled made this even dirtier. You were moaning by now, hoping the heavy rain would blur your actions from anyone who walked by the shop. Or god forbid, walk in. 

“How dare you think you can just leave me?” He demanded, sliding another finger inside you and making your body come alive. 

You were embarrassingly wet at this point, and the sounds your body made as he finger-fucked you were lewd. But you couldn’t get enough. 

More, more, more. You mentally chanted. 

Bucky wasn’t having the silent treatment, so he smacked your thigh to get your attention. You yelped. Your skin stung as he smacked it again, on the same spot. Harder this time. You cried out even louder as he kept taunting you. “Answer me, you fucking brat!” His lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke. “Why did you leave me?” 

You cried as he kept fucking you with his fingers you even as you came. His fingers sliding in and out with ease now. The sounds you made were wanton. “You… you left first.” You tried to argue. But failed miserably. 

He chuckled in that dark and dangerous way of his. “I left for work.” He said, “And I promised you I’d be back.” He reached deeper inside you, curling his fingers just enough to make you mutter incoherent things. “Why didn’t you wait for me?” 

“Please, please, please…” You begged. “Please I need to come, Bucky please.” 

“Oh?” He chuckled again, slowing down his movements purposely. “No one touched you, huh?” He playfully bit on your exposed shoulder. “You’re so fucking wet it’s dripping down my hand, babygirl.” He boasted. “Is it because no one has touched you these past few months? Hmm?” 

“Yes…” You had tears streaming down your face, and you nodded breathlessly. “Please…” 

But instead of making you come all over his fingers, Bucky pulled away for a brief moment. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear him undoing his trousers. And moments later, he was rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. You shivered in pleasure.

“I’m gonna teach you what happens to people who think they can run from me, babygirl.” He growled as he pushed his cock into you, making you cry out loud as he stretched you out. 

After months of not having him, right now he felt huge inside you. Just like that, memories of nights spent with him came flooding back in. You moaned as his fingers found your clit again, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts. 

His hand gripped you by the hips, holding you against him as he sped up into you, fucking you like he hated you. Like it was punishment. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and licked, and bit on your skin as he fucked into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls.

“Did you think I’d never find you?” He asked, fucking into you. “I bet you thought you’d gotten rid of me, hmm?” 

You’d missed him too. He could tell by the way you were starting to clench around him already. Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how good he felt inside you. 

“See, it didn’t have to be like this, baby…” he mumbled angrily against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “I could be nice and gentle with your body, but you just had to be a fucking brat and leave me with no warning.” He spat, growling in your ear as he pounded into you, your chest slamming into the wall with each thrust. It hurt in the best way. 

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly.

The pleasure, the pain, the heat of him… was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Bucky–,” You choked on your words as you came undone, walls clenching around him, and a loud moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. It was almost blinding. 

His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He came while biting down hard on your shoulder. So hard that even you cried out, still coming down from your high as you felt him spill deep inside you. 

That bite on your shoulder hurt. And like a chain reaction, everything began to hurt. Having him here hurt. Memories of being with him in the city, in the dark rooms of that club hurt. Realising how fast your life changed hurt. 

You didn’t realise you were sobbing quietly until you heard Bucky apologising profusely. Suddenly no longer angry. No longer feeling betrayed. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry.” He kissed that sore spot softly, his bite mark on your shoulder repeatedly as he wrapped his arms around you, securing you in the comfort of his embrace. “I don’t know what came over me, babygirl. I’m so sorry, please look at me. Hey, hey,” He pulled away and turned you so you faced him, still with tears in your eyes. “Babygirl, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, wiping your tears away, then kissing your face repeatedly. 

You remained like that for a few minutes. Arms wrapped around one another, standing there against that wall while it rained like hell outside. Bucky didn’t stop apologising. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been an animal like this with you, I—,” 

You cut him off finally, “Shh, it’s okay.” You pulled away from his warm chest to look up at him. “I needed this.” You said, sniffling as you gently cupped his rough cheek, caressing his face with your thumb. “I needed you like this.” 

He just hugged you close again, kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry.” He apologised one final time. “I’ll listen, I promise. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.” 

You smiled faintly at him. “Then I should lock up down here and we can go upstairs. I don’t want to scare my neighbours by risking them finding us like this.” You looked down at your partially torn dress and Bucky’s unbuttoned trousers. 

Much to your surprise, Bucky said, “You go ahead, I’ll close and lock up.” 

You frowned at him even as you desperately tried to get the top of your sundress to cover your chest. “You wouldn’t know how to…” You trailed off as realisation set in. He was a calculated, smart man. He didn’t just apparate on your doorstep with no planning. “You’ve been watching me.” You stated, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Bucky gave you a rare, guilty look. 

You sighed and shook your head. “I guess I chose this life by getting involved with you.” You gave him a faint smile. “Alright then, lock it. Leave the key in the little basket by the door.” You started walking towards the stairs, then turned around again and said, “Make sure the windows are properly locked too, because of the rain and stuff.” 

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded.

You smirked at him. 

With that you took the stairs and Bucky watched you go with a fond smile on his face. No one ever ordered him around. He hated it. But coming from you, he quite liked it. 

Bucky chuckled at himself because never in his life had he ever imagined he would one day be closing up a bakery in a small town, all for the woman he’s obsessively in love with. But he didn’t mind it one bit. 

After following your instructions and double checking the windows, he made his way upstairs as well. Again, he didn’t know what he expected your place to look like – and all that spying only allowed him glimpses of your apartment – but he never expected your space to look so… 

Pink. With occasional gold accents. Pale pink couch, the one you often fell asleep on while watching TV, and fluffy white pillows and rugs to go with. Paintings hanging on even paler pink walls. The kitchen he couldn’t quite see but he assumed it’d have to be all white. Pink dog beds, with fluffy balls of brown fur sleeping on them – wearing pink collars no less. 

He couldn’t see your bedroom from the living room given the door was closed but given the pink, fluffy robe and socks you wore he could imagine just how pink it must be. 

“It’s so girly.” He commented, as if surprised. Maybe he was a little. After all, he knew you as the seductive goddess he met almost every night at the club. He never realised that it was all just a show, that it was all just a persona at work. In a way, stepping into your space felt so intimate. He liked it. 

You chuckled. “Coquette, please.” You corrected as you handed him a glass of red wine while he took a seat beside you. He did look a little out of place in your apartment, a dark and broody man like him. But then again, he was here and that’s all that mattered. 

He turned to look at you and couldn’t resist holding your hand and pulling you onto his lap again. “Come here,” He said, “I’ve missed you.” 

As you straddled his lap, your robe exposed some of your shoulder and Bucky saw the very noticeable bite mark he left on you. He grimaced when he saw it. He placed his wine glass to the side and traced the bite mark with his thumb carefully. 

“I’m sorry, babygirl.” He whispered, leaning in to nuzzle your neck and kiss the bite mark. And breathe in your scent. Fuck, he’d missed it so much. “You smell a little different. Fruitier.” 

You giggled when his hair tickled your skin. “I made blueberry compote earlier this morning. Perhaps that’s why.” 

You could feel him smiling against your skin. Then he pulled away to look at you. His hands shamelessly slid under your robe, eager to touch your skin. Relishing it this time, not in a feral hurry like he was earlier. He seemed visibly calmer too. 

“We used to spend hours like this at the club, remember?” He spoke, and immediately you were overwhelmed with nostalgia. 

Hours, days, weeks, months. Some days back then you would wake up in the morning already excited to see Bucky in the evening. And it wasn’t because it was all sexual. So many nights all you two did was drink, laugh and talk about everything. He once told you that apart from Sam, you were his only real friend. 

Bucky kissed you, breaking you out of your reverie surely thinking of the past as well. It was a slow, gentle kiss. It was consuming you. His hands caressed your thighs which were still a little sore from earlier. You winced in pain when he massaged the spot where he spanked you. 

Bucky pulled away from the kiss, apologising again as he kissed down your chin. “I’m sorry, babygirl.” 

You smiled at him after taking a sip of your wine. “Stop pretending as if we were always vanilla or that this is scandalous in any way shape or form.” You chuckled as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “We both know this was nothing compared to how we used to be.” 

Bucky smiled, a little sadly. “I missed you.” He repeated. “Tell me,” He said, “Tell me everything.” 

You finished your wine. “What do you want to know?” 

“Why did you start working at the club?” He caught the look of sadness that suddenly appeared on your face upon hearing the question.

“I… I had to drop out of uni because my grandparents fell sick.” You explained. “Mom and dad were travelling for work at the time, and I was the only one who could take care of grandma and grandpa. The treatments and all ended up costing a little more than what we had so I needed a job that paid well, I also needed one that would allow me to be flexible with my time so I could take care of my grandparents.” 

Bucky nodded, “Hence the club.” 

You nodded in confirmation. 

“Your parents never intervened? So you could finish your education?” He questioned. 

“No.” You said, almost emotionless. “When they found out what I was doing, where I was working to earn the extra money we needed… they kind of disowned me. And vowed to never talk to me again.” You chuckled, humourlessly. 

“They don’t deserve you.” Bucky said quickly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close. “You were so brave baby, I wish you would’ve told me all of this.” 

You slid your fingers into his hair and massaged his scalp gently. “You were already taking care of me.” You said, “You mended my heart a little each night when I saw you.” 

“I wish I could’ve done more.” He kissed along your collarbones, then froze again as if he remembered something. “I almost forgot,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sleek black box. “I got you something.” Then clarified, “Well, I got you this months ago. I would’ve given it to you had you not run away from me.” 

You rolled your eyes at him, “I didn’t run from you, I–,” 

He cut you off with a finger on your lips. “Tell me about that part in a minute,” He opened the slender black box to reveal the red diamond choker inside. “I had this made for you.” He watched your face intently. 

“Bucky…” You hesitantly reached for it, running your fingers over the beauty of it. It was a simple design. Elegant, timeless. Way too expensive. “I can’t take this,” You began protesting, “It’s too much.” 

Bucky made a face and said, “Oh shut up.” He was already clasping it around your neck before you could protest any further. “It’s a gift from daddy,” He whispered against the corner of your lips. “You deserve it, babygirl.” 

When he pulled away to look at you, his heart almost broke again at the sight of the tears in your eyes. 

“What is it?” He asked, wiping your tears away for the second time today. “Is it that ugly?” 

You laughed through the tears. “No, it’s the prettiest thing I own.” You sniffled. “The only piece of real jewellery in fact.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” 

“Remind me to get you a whole collection.” Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you deeply. 

Then it turned into something more and by the time the afternoon rolled around, the two of you had lost count how many times you’d made love on your pink couch. Slow touches and cuddles, and soft kisses always resulted in the two of you fucking again. 

—

In the late afternoon, while snacking on random things Bucky realised you still hadn’t explained how you ended up here. 

“Grandma and grandpa’s bakery.” You explained, watching the rain pour outside. “They left it to me. They died within weeks of each other,” You said with a melancholic smile on your face, “I always knew that would happen. They loved each other too much to live without one another for too long.” 

You turned to look at Bucky who pulled you onto his lap again and held you as tightly as possible. You weren’t crying this time, but being held felt nice. 

You continued, “I had funerals to plan, I had to pack up my life and move all the way here, I had to take on the responsibility of the bakery and renovate this apartment. And you were already gone at the time so…” You sighed. “I didn’t know if I should leave a note or not. I didn’t know if you were actually coming back or–,” 

“I would never abandon you. I thought you knew that.” Bucky said, a little annoyed at that. “I made you a promise, did you not–,” 

You couldn’t help but argue, “Yeah well, I didn’t know if what we had was real enough for you to come back to.” 

Bucky frowned. “Baby…” 

You gave him a small smile, and pressed your forehead against his, rubbing your noses together. “I know now. It is.” 

When you finally pulled away from his addicting embrace you said, “I’m gonna get started on dinner. You can shower in there,” You pointed at your bedroom door as you got up from the couch. Bucky tried to grab you again but you pulled away laughing. “The weather is clearing up, we can have dinner outside on the patio.” 

You threw him a wink and made your way into the kitchen. 

Bucky finally got up and walked into your bedroom. Just as he imagined, the place was all white, gold, and pink. He actually laughed when he walked into the bathroom and found it pale pink as well. He’d grown to love it too by now. 

–

You were busy at the stove, making your best seafood pasta, when you felt strong arms wrapping around you from behind. 

“How’d you like my bedroom?” You asked, smirking already as you pictured him in your very girly space. 

“It’s very pink. The bed looks comfy,” He whispered into your ear, “I’m gonna fuck you in it later.” 

You chuckled and passed him another glass of wine. As you turned to face him again, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. There he was, one of the scariest men you knew, standing in your grandma-core kitchen, wearing a fluffy white robe with pink clouds on it. 

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t comment on it. I can already hear Sam laughing his ass off and he’s not even here.” 

You laughed even harder before you kissed his cheek. “It suits you.” You said. Then you handed him a couple of plates and pointed at the patio which could be seen from the kitchen window, “Can you set the table?” 

He finished his wine and then mumbled on his way out like a grumpy old man, “First close the bakery, now set the table,” He shouted from outside, “You know, if this whole thing was your elaborate plan to hire me as your domestic helper, you could’ve just asked, babygirl.” 

You laughed at him from inside the kitchen. You shook your head as you watched him. Wearing your fluffy robe, setting the small table on your patio. The view of the ocean from that patio was to die for, and the setting sun was just sublime. The golden lights you’d hung above the cute little dining area added to the cosy atmosphere. Now with the weather a lot nicer than it was hours ago, you could hear the small town coming alive again. Voice and laughter, children cycling down the cobblestone. 

And Bucky. Bucky was here too. Winking at you from the patio. And you thought your life had ended when your parents disowned you. You scoffed at the thought. Then you thanked whatever god was listening for bringing Bucky back to you. 

— 

During dinner, Bucky filled you in on what he was up to while you were gone. And you did the same. One bottle of wine turned into two, then you and Bucky laughed at random things while you did the dishes. 

Then you found yourselves in your bed. And like he promised, Bucky made love to you there as well. 

His muscular body hovered above yours. He looked down at you with nothing but love and desire in his eyes as you undid the ridiculous robe to let his cock out. He was hard already. 

“Think I like you a lot in this robe.” You teased. 

Bucky laughed before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck as he parted your legs and slid into you.  

You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly. He was nice and snug inside you, stretching you out in a way that had you whining and whimpering under him in no time. 

Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head on your pink covers as he sped up into you. Your eyes rolled back once he started moving in and out of you. Taking his sweet time, loving the way his warm skin rubbed against yours. 

He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly. “I love you.” He breathed against your mouth. “So fucking much.” He kissed along your skin and moaned into your ear as he sped up. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” 

“Oh Buck,” You smiled up at him, “I love you.” 

“You’re mine.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you as he made you come again. 

“And you’re mine.” 

— 

You woke up some time in the middle of the night, thirsty after all that wine from earlier. But the moment you sat up to get out of bed, Bucky woke up too. Asking in his groggy voice, which you had never heard before but concluded that it was kind of hot, “Where are you going? What is it?” 

You smiled and kissed his forehead while getting out of bed, “Just thirsty. I’ll be right back.” 

Bucky got up after you, getting out of bed as well. “I’m coming too.” He said, “I worry this girly room might engulf me if you leave me here alone.” He joked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he followed you out and into the kitchen. 

Truth is, he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a second. 

You handed him a glass of cold water while you put some water to boil to make tea. Some green tea should put the two of you right back to sleep, you thought. 

So there you were in your cosy kitchen, wrapped in a soft blanket. Bucky leaned against the counter watching you. He was shirtless, just in some white, cotton pyjama pants that you lent him. They didn’t fit him at all but something about him in your clothes made him seem adorable. 

You were both quiet. But you could feel Bucky thinking. He looked like he was trying to find the right way to ask you something. You didn’t know what. But he had that little frown on his forehead. You wanted to kiss it away. 

“What is it?” You asked. 

Bucky avoided your eyes, choosing to stare at the floor instead as he asked, “Do you think… I mean, would you ever come back home?” 

Ah. The few moments of silence which followed were heavy. You didn’t like how that question put some kind of metaphorical distance between the two of you. 

So you took a few steps and leaned into him. You placed your hands on his muscular, toned chest and said, “This is home, for me.” You gave him the truth. “That city was never home now that I think about it.” You smiled faintly, “The only good part was you.” 

Bucky nodded. “So,” He began, then stopped to clear his throat and spoke again, “You won’t ever leave this place?” 

You slid your hands up across his skin, feeling the warm, strong muscles underneath your palm. You traced his collar bones, then his neck and finally cupped his face in your hands. He wrapped his arms loosely around your middle. 

“I love it here, Bucky.” You stated. “It’s quiet, and peaceful. It looks boring at first but it’s what I’ve always wanted.” You said. “Plus my grandparents left me this, it’s all I have of them.” You paused for a while, hating that look of hurt in his ocean blue eyes. “I won’t leave. This is my home now.” 

Bucky was quiet. Even his breathing was slow. 

You let go of him, took a step back and said, “Maybe you should head back.” It felt like the words sliced you from the inside. It hurt to even utter them. “You have a life there.” You gave him a sad smile. Followed by a faint chuckle. “Unless you want to take up fishing then I’m afraid there’s nothing for you here.” 

He scoffed. “There’s you.” He said as if that was more than enough. 

“Bucky.” You warned. 

He shook his head, then reached for his phone which he’d forgotten in the kitchen earlier tonight. “Sam will probably fly out here to beat me up when I tell him.” He spoke, none of what he said made sense to you though.

“What are you–,”

“And he’ll have to work twice as much. But he’ll do great, I know. He’s Sam after all, strongest man I know.” Bucky carried on, ignoring your questions as he typed away on his phone. “I’ll do as much as I can from here, maybe fly back to the city once or twice a year to show my face.” 

“Bucky,” You warned again, “What are you talking—,” 

Bucky continued, cutting you off each time you tried to get a word in. “I’ll have to call my people, actually I have a lot of phone calls to make if–,” 

You cut him off this time, stepping closer to him again and grabbing him by his broad shoulders. “What are you talking about?” 

Bucky gave you a lovesick smile. “Well if you’re not going back to the city, neither am I.” He answered. You froze. He continued. “I’ll have to buy us a bigger home somewhere around here. We’ll keep the apartment and bakery of course, but maybe we could use some staff to help with maintenance and to keep the bakery running.” 

He made a mental, makeshift plan while you had silent tears streaming down your face. 

He continued, “We’ll get you back in uni, whichever one you want and whichever offers distance learning because there’s no way I’m letting you live on some campus away from me.” He paused, then said, “I’ll have to actually take up fishing. Maybe I’ll buy a few boats, you know I always wanted to be a yacht broker.” He sounded almost… hopeful. “Retirement sounds nice.” 

You sniffled. “Buck…” 

Bucky kept talking while he gently caressed your back. “I’ll have to learn French,” He groaned, “At this grown age.” He added. “I’ll have to know what's a chocolate croissant and what’s a pain au chocolat if I want to occasionally help out with the bakery. I can’t be uncultured while my wife is this connoisseur, you know? The locals will laugh at me.” 

“Wife?” You questioned through tears and a faint, barely there smile. 

He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I’m wearing your clothes, sleeping in your girly room, eating off of your floral plates.” He explained, “If you don’t marry me, I will lose my reputation.” He joked. 

You laughed, and sobbed as you threw your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could. 

“You don’t have to do this.” You spoke through tears. Your heart felt so full, you didn’t know how to handle a man like Bucky changing the course of his life for you. All for you. 

Bucky hugged you back, kissing the top of your head. “I want to.” He said, “I have to. Otherwise you’ll run away again.” He teased. 

You laughed quietly. “I won’t.” You said firmly. 

“Good,” He sighed, squeezing you tightly in his arms before letting go. “Now I have to tell Sam.” He looked genuinely worried. 

You giggled, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Tell him in the morning.” You whispered, your hands already trailing down to the waistband of the pyjama pants. 

Bucky chuckled before leaning in to kiss you, deeply. “Okay baby,” He whispered, forgetting everything else as he got lost in you all over again. 

He made love to you right there in the kitchen, sliding in between your legs as you sat on the edge of the counter. Slow and gentle. Kissing you softly, making a mess of you as he made you come over and over and over again. Whispering against your heated skin, your wet, open mouth, “You’re mine…” 

“All yours,” You answered, holding him tightly. Your nails scratching down his back, your skin burning in all the best ways as his beard scratched it each time he kissed you. 

This time, he made you a different promise. 

“If you chose to run again, you better run for your life and pray I never find you, babygirl…” He whispered into your ear as he slid inside you again. His cock made it hard for you to focus on anything else but you tried your hardest to hear him out. “Because I won’t be this kind if I ever have to hunt for you again.” 

You laughed, but ended up moaning as he bit down on your other shoulder this time. Marking you as his again.

[mullermilkshake]

I'll look after myself, first

Part 2 <- Part 3 -> Part 4

Jinwoo agree's to take care of you, so just let him.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Smut, porn with plot? mentions of preganancy/preganancy sex, Jinwoo definitely has a breeding kink, breast play, nipple licking, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, p in v sex, mentions of premature ejaculation, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, manipulation, mentions of swallowing/blowjob/facial

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

“Jin-Jinwoo, wait.”

There was no way you were thinking of backing out. There couldn’t be, Jinwoo handled you as delicately as possible when laying you down on the freshly made bed, you couldn't be backing out now.

“What’s wrong?” He said, practically on top of you already.

“Uh…” He couldn’t see your expression from the darkness of the purposely drawn curtains. “Well, I want to ask you something, before we…”

His cock throbbed in his pants, aching and twitching to escape, eagerly sitting to put forward its usefulness. Even so, he sucked in his breath and played with the hem of your shirt.

“Of course.”

“Well… why were you spying on me and Hae-In earlier today?”

Crap.

“You noticed me, huh?” Jinwoo played it off as something less creepy than how it left your lips. He just chuckled it away. “Your perception is higher than I thought… I wasn’t spying, I came around that way and Hae-In looked sad. I kinda panicked and disappeared in hopes you wouldn’t see when you looked over. But I guess you saw me anyway… but the reason I left the boardroom so close after you was because-” 

He stopped himself and waited for you to take the bait. “Because what, Jinwoo?”

The weight on the bed shifted, his body still over yours and he could tell you were propped up onto your elbows to get a better look in the dark. 

Should he tell you now? Tell you how his love for you grew from one pinnacle moment when before he never had much to do with you? Jinwoo could tell by the tone of your voice that if he came clean wholeheartedly, you would be sure to bolt. And it would take ages to claim you back and reel you in again without the association’s help.

If he came clean, you could make things difficult or try your hardest to pull from the programme all together. That would prove difficult, but the stress alone wouldn’t be adequate for getting you pregnant.

He had to get you pregnant.

“Well,” he didn’t remove his position from over you, but pulled away a fraction to make it look like he did. “I uh…. I’ve had feelings for you ever since we met and- well, I just- I mean, I wanted to reassure you that this was just sex… if you didn’t feel anything like that.”

You were speechless for what felt like an hour, but in reality, it was merely a few seconds. “You… you do? But- but what about Hae-In? She really likes you, like really likes you- if she found out that you…”

And then the news hit you, like Jinwoo’s lips did. Slowly, but with supportive tendencies to keep your confidence in check. “You- you feel that way about me?”

“I do, but I never said anything because I thought you and Jong-In were-”

“We're not together, we’re just good friends. I know he doesn’t feel that way about me. To be honest, I was happy for him because I think he has a thing for Hae-In. But she has the biggest crush on you. Oh my god this is so confusing-”

Jinwoo kissed you again, and this time he lingered his lips on yours as a sign of his own affection. “Don’t overthink it, we’re adults here. We can talk about that stuff later. But I promised that I’d look after you, right?”

“Fuck- this is so wrong.” Now you were breathlessly whispering to him. Did you want him to fuck you mercilessly for as long as you were conscious? That could be a tantalising end result.

“Maybe, but it’s just sex. No boundaries crossed.” Yet. 

While it stung to hear that spill from his own lips any time he said it, the term ‘it’s just sex’ only settled you into a more textured depth of security he assumed you needed. Because eventually, it wouldn’t just be sex. Jinwoo worked so hard to level up, he could wait a little while longer before edging himself in hearing you say I love you back,

Though for now, he wanted to lap up the warmth of your breath tickling his lips, bite them and suck until your bottom lip turned purple, swollen and sore. To fondle and pinch your breasts and leave the most stunning love bites so broken on the surface, the blood vessels never calmed down.

Like marking you permanently.

But Jinwoo was a patient man, a calm being to wait out the storm for the fresh rain smell and wet grass under his feet before the main event of sitting out for the rainbow. The longer he waited, though despite his darker side never wanting to, Jinwoo could get a fantastic view of that pretty rainbow and ensure that one never faded.

Your chest rose and fell, you never said anything in the lingering pause. But, you pulled him in first before Jinwoo could get close to you himself. It set his senses alight when your fingers slid up the back of his neck and through his hair, tugging at it with little pinches.

You’d definitely done this before.

Jinwoo wrapped his arm around you, lifting you up a fraction just so your back arched and your legs spread wider for him. Fuck, he wanted to see you like this with the lights on, take note of the fucked out gaze you were going to have when he was through with you and keep it in his mind for eternity.

When Jinwoo’s hips pressed tight against yours, that little sensual gasp sent him over the edge, driving him to run his free hand up your shirt with his fingertips. Each touch, every inch, all spaces he’d never touched until now.

A space that Jong-In had never touched, and wouldn’t ever touch for as long as Jinwoo was alive. So soft, velvety and as supple as he fantasied over, tickling dainty drags over your rib cage and up to your bra.

His thoughtful caresses did not go unnoticed, not at all. Before Jinwoo could fiddle with your shirt or think of unclasping your bra, you slipped your shirt off yourself and tossed it on the floor before kissing him again, even slipping your tongue inside. 

Maybe getting you on side would be easier than Jinwoo initially thought. Either that or you were getting far more into character than needed.

Either way, you were getting it tonight. And you were getting it good.

An example? When he ground his cock against you, you moaned, right into his mouth.

When Jinwoo removed his lips from yours to which you tried chasing back, he left them for your nipple, he exposed it with his long fingers so that your breast spilled out and made you writhe. He kneaded the plush of it, squeezing it in his fingers so that it bulged between them and ramped up the sensitivity. He flicked his tongue delicately over your nipple so that pussy he was grinding on had no choice but to gush before he even got a chance to slide a finger or two into.

After he ground against you again for another second, you bucked your hip as indecently as you could with your back arched the way it was. Your grip on his shoulders spurred him on to do more, to take your nipple right into his mouth and make a seal around his lips.

He could imagine your tits already swollen and full before this future hypothetical baby was even a possibility. Those hormones making you horny just for a quick fuck and tumble in the covers and that meant the many times you’d be on top, grinding yourself on Jinwoo’s cock and milk it for everything you possibly had.

The filthy thought of filling you up with his come made his cock weep, he took the forward thinking notion under the cover of darkness and undone the zipper of his pants. Gently so as to not startle you, but if his cock went any longer without attention and breathing room, he’d burst before he could shoot it inside you.

Unless it was in your mouth or face, Jinwoo wasn’t wasting a drop.

“J-Jinwoo…” You were so breathless.

“Mhm?” He never unlatched his mouth.

“I- I… give me more. Please. Please.”

Already begging for me? A good example of how he was going to train you.

With time, he’d programme you to only enjoy his cock.

His fingers, his huge loads.

His encouraging words.

And his tendency to push boundaries until you couldn’t stand anymore.

In the end, he would mold you to his expectations and nothing less.

And if anyone got in the way of that? Simple. They’d cease to exist anymore. Because this aura you gave to him was too intoxicating to kick the habit.

“You want more?” He said, leaving a wet from his lips over your skin that would have glistened beautifully had you allowed the moonlight in from the window.

“Yes.”

“If you need to stop, tell me.” Later down the line, that wasn’t an option, but he’d give you that stop valve for now.

All in the name of gaining trust, though when push came to shove and if Jinwoo had his way, you wouldn’t dare question his actions in the slightest when he was done with you.

His cock was already out, twitching in his free hand with a quick jerk while sitting up and back on his knees so he could paw and tug off your clothes and remove the barrier between you and him. When you were eventually pregnant, there was no need for underwear and pants like this. Jinwoo wanted you in those cute summer dresses that drove him insane, easy flowing and perfect for fucking you in, right over that kitchen counter for comfort and convenience.

No silly bras either.

If Jinwoo had it his way, what he obsessed over whilst testing the waters with his finger slipping inside your pussy, he’d ensure whenever you were in this apartment, you were full of his bodily fluids until they dripped out and trickled down your thighs.

One finger turned into two, then three. You took three of his thick fingers and whined, clenching your legs despite him keeping them open with his knees.

“Is that more you were thinking of? Or is this just a necessary step to that part?”

“I… I want more, I want you to fuck me, Jinwoo.” It must have been a long time since your last assisted orgasm that wasn’t ran on batteries if you were trembling like this and you hadn’t even come yet.

Though Jinwoo refused to think of who else you had slept with. He’d ask, but later down the line. But what did interest him was your quick turn around of doing the right thing for Hae-In, quite the change to his liking.

Guess he already had a hold on you.

“There’s that attitude I was looking for.” He chuckled and played with your clit by the pad of his calloused thumb. “I can definitely do that, are you ready for me?”

A little forward, but it slipped so easily from his lips and you responded so beautifully. “Yes. I’m ready- just fuck me already. Please.”

“Then stop holding back and come on my hand before I do that. It has to be really hard to hold it in.”

Your legs trembled beside him like your breaths had dramatically decreased in depth, like a shallow winded gasp. Jinwoo had eternity to figure out your body, yet you were an open book to him just like that. He knew you were close and by the way you grasped his wrist, the same wrist his fingers were attached to currently deep inside you, he could tell you were about to come.

“Come for me.”

“Fuck.”

You became rigid, legs shaking and convulsing by his knees with a held breath. Jinwoo waited for that breath to escape and continued to fuck you with his fingers, the only sound of the wet squelching from the gushing of your pussy all over him. And then you let that breath go, fuck he was so hard and he never waited for you to gather your thoughts before lining his cock up.

For all the time he touched himself and masturbated any chance he had after seeing you train or command a room with the likes of the other S-Ranks, he never thought he’d have you like this under him, at least not this soon.

He was never letting you go, not when your pulsing pussy sucked him in this good.

“Damn.” This next year, and all the others after this were truly going to be fantastic.

But at this rate, Jinwoo would come too quickly. Though in this state, would you really care? Probably not, but the man had a reputation to uphold. One that never involved premature ejaculation.

So he bit his lip and moved his hips, jerking closer than he realised when your legs wrapped around hip and yanked him towards you.

You absolutely filthy girl. 

Maybe it wouldn’t matter if he came inside you right now, bucking his hips with no protection under the promise of knocking you up turned him on more than anything ever had. Then, he’d not only have your body, but that permanent ownership over you, a hidden agenda disguised as hard work for the association.

A baby. He’d fuck a baby into you and watch you become his for good.

His.

His.

Jinwoo laid down as close as he could to you, nipping at your bottom lip and sucking it, masking his own groans under your helpless ones.

“J-Jinwoo- I’m close-”

“Me too-”

Just to give you something else on your plate to think about so that it didn’t add insult to injury of his quick and incoming orgasm, he held you again so that your back arched more than before, he ran his tongue up your neck and grazed his teeth over the skin. Jinwoo held onto the headboard and fucked you with everything he had.

Who cared if he came quickly, he was coming inside you.

And when you were most vocal, coming around his cock, he quite graciously emptied his cock inside you, shooting his come where it belonged. Deep inside your pussy. He rode that orgasm out with every cell in his body until he was certain that there was nothing left in his balls to give you.

Though he never pulled out. The first load of many.

Now you had to follow the association's tips and lay there for a moment so that none of it leaked out. Jinwoo’s cock being the most useful tool in securing two pink lines on that pregnancy test.

He doubted it would take long to get you pregnant, but maybe a few more times to be sure.

Having the weight of the association’s future on his shoulders, Jinwoo gladly accepted the stress relief.

Part 2 <- Part 3 -> Part 4

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️ Also sorry! I didn't realise I had to space the tagged blogs out 🫠 I'm sorting it now

Tag list - @bubera974,@snowy-violet,@sky2lar,@starrynights23x,@minh907

@yessirr7,@aussie-boys-wife,@yihona-san06,@mashiromochi,@daiyanomochi,

@justatimidcreator,@alia-17,@otomegamesforlife@m00n-estelle,@towomatos

@stormnightingale,

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[eden031]

First meetings

Part 1, Part 2

Pairing: Jack Abbot x female! intern! reader

Warnings: cursing, sexual content is described (not explicit), one night stand, medical inaccuracies, Jack Abbot being soft (I guess), mentions of vomiting (I promise no one is pregnant)

!MDNI 18+ content!

Summary: Meeting Jack Abbot twice for the first time was not on her bucket list, especially not after how their unoffical first meeting ended.

A/N: Heyy so, this was something else I wanted to write for Abbot. I am currently thinking about writing a second part for this, but I am not sure yet. I think it would be interesting, depending on how this is recieved I might write a second part :) Also the first part of this fic is more like looking back at the events that took place, again Jack might be a bit ooc, so please forgive me

She had met Jack Abbot in a bar for the very first time. It was one of those dimly lit, smelling like beer and wood, kind of bar, the kind of bar that served cheap drinks and was frequented by people that wanted to get drunk and have a good time. Just having finished med school, still waiting until her residency program would start. Her friends had wanted to celebrate, she had wanted to as well, there was a reason to after all. It had taken some convincing, especially since her friends had been rather insistent on an outfit she would never have chosen for herself.

Spotting the older man from across the bar had almost been like a moment of total clearness, like someone had flipped a switch in her mind. The wavy, salt and pepper hair, the beautiful features, the man had caught her attention without even trying. He had been staring into his glass, like he was miles away in a completely different plane of reality, maybe that was what had drawn her to him, or maybe it was that this man looked like he had stepped straight out of a painting.

Putting on her best smile she had sauntered over to him, trying to appear as confident as possible. As she did that she internally thanked her friends for the beautiful outfit she was now in. She bought him a drink before she even introduced herself, that had earned her a raised brow at first, then a slight smile. He had told her his name, his first name only back then. The first thing he had asked her then was how old she was. She had told him the truth, twenty six, he had been uncertain, but the moment she started chattering about the beauty of devotion to one‘s beliefs he seemed to have leaned back and given her a chance. Talking for hours with him she felt like something clicked between them, something was extremely right when they talked. At some point his hand had found her thigh, they began facing each other and their conversation flowed on. She felt guilty about having abandoned her friends, but the moment she glanced back towards where they were sitting one of them gave her a thumbs up. All of them looked in her direction and the thumbs up and happy smiles only grew more and more in the group.

The talking for almost four hours had landed her at his place, a hot mouth on hers before the door was even closed properly. None of the surfaces of his apartment had been left unused, except for the kitchen counter, though she had gotten that more than she probably should. At the end of the night her legs were shaking violently and the warm blanket wrapped around her, the warmth of him more comforting than it probably should be. For a man his age, she had joked while they laid in bed together after many rounds of very good sex, he had an impressive stamina. After that comment he had snorted and eaten her out like a man starved. Laying there with him she had looked at him, his face looked more relaxed then, his eyes on her face as she gently brushed his cheek with her knuckles.

“I wish I could freeze this moment in time,” she had whispered and he had smiled at that, simply kissing her, though he had never returned the sentiment verbally, but she had felt it through the kiss.

The next morning they had eaten breakfast together, it was nothing fancy, just some toast and cheese, but it had felt just right as they drank from his old beaten up coffee mugs, while chatting about this and that. She had given him her number and left around noon that day, the tension between them still crackling like it had the night before. Not sure if she should expect a call or not and if she should just move on with her life as she arrived at her own apartment.

——————————-

The dark blue scrubs hung loosely on her body, the elastic in the pants keeping them from falling, the only things that were keeping her from going insane over the fabric were the compression socks and the thermo undershift she was wearing. A stethoscope wrapped around her neck she stepped into the ED of the PTMC. It was busy, people running around, the voices of patients filling the room with a mixture of low groans and moans, but also light giggles from medication, staff was standing together, chattering away as she moved across the room.

This was her first day of residency, well her official first day of residency would have been last week, but she had been throwing up the entire weekend, as well as in the entirety of the day of her official first day, so she had called the admin staff and called in sick. The worst thing about that being that that day had been the day of the Pitt Fest shooting, she had felt guilty, but then decided that feeling guilty would not get her anywhere and her having to vomit constantly wouldn‘t have been helpful in any case.

As she walked towards the nurses‘ desk she saw an older man standing in front of a computer, hunched over slightly, black framed glasses resting on his nose, a dark hoodie thrown over his scrubs, he looked weirdly familiar, but she couldn‘t place his face. His dark hair was styled upwards and the beard had some white hairs in it, though the wrinkles around his eyes were deep, he looked about six or so years older than Jack, she shook her head, she had to stop thinking about him, it had almost been a month since she had seen him.

„Excuse me?“ she asked carefully, stepping towards him, not wanting to startle the man. He looked up from the desktop, his dark eyes glimmering in the white light of the ED. “Dr. Robinavitch?” she tilted her head to the side.

“Yes, that is me,” he laughed slightly as he smiled at her. Quickly she gave him her name and his face lit up.

“Ah, yes! It is good to see you back on your feet.” he looked over at the nurse in the nurses’ station, blonde hair and she could see she had a black eye.

“Thank you,” she laughed nervously.

“So this is our charge nurse, Dana, the most important person you are going to meet today,” he looked around, seeing a group of three women and one man coming their way, he waved them towards them. Quickly she introduced herself to them. She learned that the young woman with the dark hair and clear eyes was Trinity Santos, an intern. Melissa or rather Mel King, an R2, with the most adorable smile and charming optimism. Victoria Javadi, who seemed to suffer from imposter syndrome more than anything else and such an inviting personality that it almost made her want to cry, she was an MS3. Dennis Whitaker, who looked like he wanted to sink into the floor and seemed to be a bit awkward, though it was rather endearing, an MS4.

Dr. Robinavitch or rather Dr. Robby, how he was also called, sent you along with Dr. Heather Collins for most of the day. She was a nice woman with whom she got along rather well. Since she was an R1 she still needed guidance in certain areas and was mostly supervised by someone, not all the time thought.

The day turned out to be rather eventful and gruelling in its own way, she had been spit on, shouted at, a patient had smeared poop in her hair, a worried parent had accidentally elbowed her in the stomach, the hit and run victim she had helped treat had died, a toddler that had somehow gotten the child safety cover off the outlet had put a fork in it and shocked himself was in a coma, a patient had slapped her ass as she was trying to treat his head injury, she had nearly peed her pants because she did not get the chance to go to the bathroom, Santos was incredibly annoying, another patient had asked her if she would suck him off if he paid her the right amount and the list only went on the later it was, another patient died from internal bleeding from multiple stab wounds, no chance for lunch or a drink in between cases. Glancing at her watch she saw that it was already past eight, meaning that theoretically her shift was over, but apparently things kept coming her way and all hands were needed.

From what Santos had told her, the senior attending from night shift was already there, but she had yet to see the man. Trinity had told her that he was an incredible teacher, someone that was worth working with. Since the night shift was already there she also met Dr. Ellis and Dr. Shen and their charge nurse Brigit.

As she made her way towards the nurses’ station she felt herself beginning to sway, the fact that she had not had a single sip of water since she had eaten breakfast that morning or the fact that she had not eaten anything in over twelve hours explained the dizziness. She also hadn’t sat down in the same amount of time. Stumbling slightly she felt herself loose her footing on the floor of the ED she reached out for something to hold onto while she prepared to hit the ground. She felt two strong hands on her arm and hip pulling her upright before she was able to fall, the feeling of hitting a strong chest made her breath in sharply.

Turning her head to face her saviour she practically let out a screech as she saw Jack holding her tightly.

“Holy shit!” she practically shouted. It was not because of his great reflexes nor was it because she was glad she hadn’t fallen, no that was because she was face to face with Jack again. Some faces turned their way as he supported her to get her to sit down somewhere and she did, taking a seat on one of the chairs she stared at him, with her mouth slightly agape as he looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She heard Princess and Perlah mutter something between them in Tagalog, knowing that it was probably the gossip mill already beginning to move. Before Jack could ask her anything Mel was already hurrying to the nurses’ station.

“Are you alright? I saw you almost falling!” Mel came over to her, looking extremely worried.

“Yeah, everything alright,” she continued staring at Jack, her mind going through all kinds of emotions going through her mind at this moment. “Just a bit dizzy,” she snapped her gaze away from Jack who let out a huff.

“Dr. King, get her something to eat and drink, if you don’t mind, then go home, your shift ended over an hour ago,” Jack spoke softly to Mel, who nodded and headed off. He looked at her for a long moment and shook his head. She could hear the discussion between Princess and Perlah intensifying, though she did not understand what they were saying.

“Dr. Jack Abbot,” he held out his hand to her, just like he had done in the bar a month ago, a shiver ran down her spine as she took it, shaking it carefully introducing herself with her full name this time as well. Suddenly it was like whiplash hit her and she knew where she had seen Dr. Robby before, she had seen him in one of the photos in Jack’s apartment.

Mel reappeared with two granola bars and a cup of water in her hand, setting it down.

“Thanks, Mel,” she smiled at the woman. “See you tomorrow,” Mel told her goodbye as well and disappeared, she knew that she still needed to pick up her sister.

“Eat, drink, go home, you need to be here at seven tomorrow,” his voice was firm, but not unkind. She snorted, defiant and angry at him, hell he could have at least told her that the one night stand was supposed to stay exactly that. She wanted to tell him to go fuck off.

“Thanks, but I will be fine,” as she got up from the chair her dizziness came back knocking the wind out of her and she swayed again, sitting back down she grumbled while opening the granola bar, practically inhaling the two bars and drinking the cup of water in one gulp.

“There happy,” she sounded more snappy than she intended and she heard one of the night shift nurses gasp slightly, that would definitely be thrown into the gossip mill.

“Yes,” Jack gave her a pointed look, the kind of look that said ‘if you do that one more time you are going to be in big trouble’. “Now, go home,”

Not letting him tell her that twice she shot out of the chair and made her way towards the lockers, the dizziness wasn’t gone completely, but the bars and the water had helped. She saw Perlah and Princess in the hallway, both of them giving her suspicious looks. This was going to be interesting.

[creamecafe]

I haven’t seen many fics about player 333 yet (Myunggi) 😔 Could you do maybe an enemies to lover type story with him!!!

Wicked Game | Myung-Gi Pt. 1

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: You're stuck in the squid games fighting for your life. It also doesn't help that you are stuck with a wanna be rich scammer fraud.

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Myung-Gi x GN!Reader (No pronouns used)

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: enemies to lovers, hurt

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝:

𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: Thank you so much for requesting. I hope you enjoy this! Also the reader is an ex of Myung-Gi before the games. Please understand I don't HATE Kim Jun-hee, I just thought it would fit more for enemies to lovers. I also believe I may put this into two parts as the 3rd season is yet to come

If you would like to be tagged for the next part, let me know in the comments down below and I'll add you to the list!!

Want a request for a Squid Game character like this one? Check out my latest post, read my request guidelines and send a request!

Read on Wattpad & AO3 here

Joining the squid games could possibly be the last thing any person with common sense and a reason to live would consider doing. Unless they either had none.

That's what it looked like for you. The games you had to do to win 45.6 billion won had you either questioning if it's still worth it to still keep going or just to end it all on this island.

Out of all the people in these games, there's one face that you despised seeing and wondered how he's still alive after what he did, Myung-Gi.

He's your ex boyfriend. Being with him was great at first, but once he was invested in the crypto coin thing business, it felt like you're being cheated on. It also didn't help that he had an affair behind your back with a girl named Kim Jun-hee who turned up pregnant.

You didn't hate Kim Jun-hee, as you felt bad for her that your ex abandoned her and their baby, but the whole thing hurted you.

There's nothing more you wanted to get out of here with enough money to move to another place and start off fresh.

When you first woke up in the dormitory with all the other players, you wondered where this possibly could go. You looked around to see so many unfamiliar faces.

Then a man in a pinkish red suit all the way across the room wuth a black covered mas with a white triangle comes out from double doors and starts explaining why majority are here. Because of their debts.

They showed different videos of people playing Ddakji and getting slapped in the face. There was one face you recognized, your ex. It wouldn't be surprising that he was in debt for trying to chase after the crypt coin thing.

It looks like you're not the only one who hated him, many people who fell for the crypto coin were also mad at him. A purple-haired guy stood out from the rest, as he was a rapper you heard from others who were apparently fans. You had no interest in him or your ex but were wondering what the whole ordeal of winning money is.

You had to sign a waiver for the games, and you were soon directed to take pictures. It was rough enough. Then you would have to climb stairs that seemed like you were going to Mount Everest. You saw your ex from the right side across. You also didn't want to risk being seen.

Finally, you reached the first game after what seemed like an eternity. There was a huge robot doll and the whole layout was supposed to imitate a school playground with its blue sky and sand ground.

"Hey there pretty" You turn around and see the purple haired guy who was talking to your ex

"Who are you?" You exclaimed looking him up and down not in the mood to be hit on.

"I'm Choi Seung-hyun, Thanos for my music. You might of heard my raps before?"

"If I did, I probably would want to be deaf right now. Including not hearing this conversation."

He pretended to be hurt and put a hand over his heart.

"Ouch girl. Cold aren't you?"

You rolled your eyes. He sees another girl walks by and also tries talking to her. Poor girl, you thought.

"Y/N?" You hear your name being called and look around.

"Y/N!" A hand fell on your shoulder and you flinched turning around.

It was Myung-Gi. Your panic turned into annoyance as you rolled your eyes again.

"What are you doing here?" He asks

"Should be asking you that too, but I think it's obvious."

"Can we please talk?"

"What's there to talk about Myung-Gi? You chose a cyrpt coin over me and cheated on me, and got another girl pregant"

"And I regret it very much. Please come back."

"Share those regrets with the others in here too, including the mother of your child."

He tried to reply back but you walked away from him, ignoring him.

Speakers came on, explaining the rules of the game.

A screaming man came into the front and said it's not what we think the game is. He exclaims that if you move, you'll die.

People around you scoffed and found the man crazy. It seemed like to you he was crazy too, but what if he was right?

He was still screaming telling people not to move a muscle when the game starts.

The robot started turning around and putting her hand up to the tree to not look at the other player.

It started singing.

"Everyone freeze!" The man in front says.

Nobody moved a muscle. Your eyes looked around and saw no one moving. What if the guys telling the truth?

The doll looked away and you started moving forward quickly along with everyone else.

"Everyone freeze!" Yelled again the older man.

There was a scream coming from a girl who moved. She laughed exclaiming she just moved. A bullet came through her head and she dropped dead.

The guy really wasn't lying then. One wrong move, you're dead. More people started moving and more gunshots were coming.

Bodies were dropping. People are screaming. This was a bad idea to be here. You were also pretty sure you were going to die with your ex boyfriend. That another cherry on top to add.

"If you don't make it to the finishing line on time, you'll also die." The man yells but has his mouth covered like he was going to take a sneeze.

It felt impossible to win this game. You were so sure you were going to win money but now the only thing you could be winning is death. You wanted to see if Myung-Gi was still alive.

But you couldn't risk being shot. Everyone sooned formed into a single file line. The man explained that the doll can't see what's behind a person if there's a bigger person in front.

More gunshots came. More bodies dropping. You couldn't stop now though. You're close to the finish line, you can feel it.

You soon reached the finish line relieved that you made it alive. You looked around for Myung-Gi to see if he's alive.

Why do you care so much about him? You thought to yourself.

It's just basic human sympathy you thought. Hating him is one thing, but him dying is another.

The game ended and you witnessed the man who warned about the game, you see his number was 456 and another, a woman helping a man who got shot in the leg reach the finish line get shot in the head.

This isn't just a game. This life or death. Everyone including you who passed were allowed to go back to the dorms.

Zoned out walking, seeing bodies and blood, you hear your name being called.

"Y/N!"

Turning around to see who called your name, you see Myung-Gi run up to you.

"Hey, are you okay?"

A light smile came from your face.

"Yes I'm alright and you?"

"Alive thank God." He chuckled.

You chuckled lightly but didn't know what to say after. Usually, you would have something smart to say to him but after what happened, you wanted nothing more to be out of here.

There were yelling and shouts to how the man knew they would shoot if you lost the game. They were accusing the man of being behind the game.

A pink guard then came out and congratulated us for completing the first game. It then if a majority voted to O, you could leave the game.

Everyone chose their own sides O and X. You chose X, even though you desperately wanted the money to be able to move to another city. You see Jun-Hee, his other ex, chose X too. Myung-Gi chose O, which you weren't surprised.

Unfortunately there were more O's than X's which meant you had to stay. You were heartbroken but also upset and turned to Myung-Gi. Now you wish he died in the first game.

You went up to him and turned him around aggressively and slapped him across the face. People looked at you guys, but you didn't care.

"You're really that selfish, you had to choose O?"

"Y/N-"

"The mother of your child is in this game and you choose O. I should have known from the start dating you was a bad idea. If these games don't kill you, I will."

You stormed off away from him and went to your bed. Myung-Gi probably thought you were bluffing about you killing him.

Something deep down you wanted to keep that word true.

It looks like you'll have to wait and see the next day.

𝙽𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 | 𝙼𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝚂𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚍 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝙹𝚘𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝!

[mosaickiwi]

Hey hey !!! Just wanted to say I really appreciate your writing, reading a fic of yours always brings me comfort :D

I was wondering if you’d be okay doing a body swap! AU between Angel and Ren/Redacted. You’re welcome to take whatever approach you deem fit, I’m curious as to what you come up with

thank you !!!

Thank you very much <33 Taking this as a warm up so I can remember wtf i'm doing!! So it's a HC list with a little blurb :3c most of my writing the past four months has been for my own projects/personal use lmao

Also happy day 5 yayyy yippee 🎉

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Body Swap!!

[REDACTED] in your body?? Thriving

Fascinated and loving it. Since they've been studying you for years he knows all the little physical quirks you have, but now he gets to experience them himself and it's weirdly exciting.

Additionally, NO ONE would realize anything was wrong. Acting like you would be even easier than getting into character for Haruko. Except he might not be able to help himself and do a little friendship sabotaging.

He's being extremely weird in private if you give him permission lmao

A little unsure of physical affection at first because of the self loathing. Of course he still wants it, but being on the other side of things has his thoughts all "that's how my scars feel to you? my hands are really this cold?" Notes for himself to keep plenty of hand warmers in his pockets.

Puts the collar of their shirt over his mouth like he's cold… but it's really just a quick excuse to sniff your clothes outright in public I'm so sorry.

You in his body?? Suffering

You bump your head on door frames, constantly hit your hip on counters, trip in your platform shoes if you're not used to them.

You're tired all the time??? You knew they hardly slept but it was THIS bad? The constant coffee and energy drinks are the only reason you don't fall asleep in the middle of conversations.

Piercings feel weird too if your angel doesn't have them. Constantly touching your tongue to the roof of your mouth, fiddling with your ears, etc. 

Unaware of your new strength. Picking up furniture is surprisingly easy. You probably broke a door lock when turning the key with a little too much force. 

Your friends are dismissive and standoffish with you. Can you blame them? At best he ignores them, and at worst you have to be physically between them (but closer to [REDACTED]) to keep both parties happy.

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

"Watch your head," you heard from in front of you. 

You carefully ducked into the doorway to your apartment. It was hard to get used to your new height — and almost as hard to get used to hearing someone else use your voice.

The same couldn't be said of your partner. Not even thirty minutes had passed since the unfortunate incident, but [REDACTED] already seemed at home in your body. As if it was natural to him. 

While you panicked about suddenly swapping bodies in the middle of a hangout with your friends, he calmly made a plan. All you could do was follow along.

You'd observed them, dumbfounded as they perfectly mimicked your personality and mannerisms. He'd excused you both from the carnival early, and gotten you home without a hint of suspicion from anyone. It was unexpected and illogical, but his obsession with you clearly paid off.

No one seemed to notice — or care, since they weren't friends with him — that the pissed off emo their friend dragged around looked crazier than usual as you both left.

The door shut as you stumbled into the living room like a newborn fawn, your now shorter partner hovering at your side. How did he manage to wear three-inch platform boots while this tall? You tripped your way over to the couch with a sigh.

"I'm calling in sick tomorrow," you groaned into the armrest. The couch felt even more uncomfortable in his body. Inviting him over just to let him sleep on the couch one too many times probably warranted an apology. 

"We should be back t'normal in a few hours."

"Is that what WebDR said?" There was no response, but you threw out another question. "I guess we could kill time and watch a movie, what do you think?"

Again, he didn't answer. You heard the faintest sound of your phone vibrating and searched every inch of your outfit. When you found his phone instead, you sat up to look for him. 

The temporary owner of your body was standing just beside the couch, your phone still ringing in their hand, but his thumb hovering dangerously close to the screen. There was an annoyed frown on his face… your face? 

"Leon's calling," he finally said.

"Oh my god." You jumped up to snatch the phone away and hurriedly declined the call. 

Your partner's frown quickly turned to amusement at the situation. "Y'don't trust me t'play nice with him?"

"When you're using my voice? Fuck no." You texted an apology to Leon for leaving early, lied about your throat hurting so he wouldn't call back, then hid the device in one of your many pockets. "Oh wow." 

"What's wrong?"

"... Nothing, I guess."

Staring down at your own face this closely was… off. You reached forward and grabbed their chin, turning it every which way as if something about it would change. 

"You really get to look at me from all the worst angles when you're this tall, huh?" you hummed to yourself. 

"And y'look perfect at every single one, love."

God, he was awful. "Ignoring you."