#but they are smiling and there’s just the text of you promised. I know

[charmedimsure]

THE NEXT EPISODE || thanos

pairing: Thanos/Choi Su-bong x f!reader

summary: You and Su-bong reunite after his stay at rehab. No debt/no games AU.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: rehab, drinking, drugs, addiction, depression

A/N: i've been working on this for like two weeks and i still feel like i could work on it more. i love this mini series i made and i'm excited to see how other people like it :) if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

Part 1: Wake Up Call

Today is the big day. The day Su-bong has been working towards for the past six months.

Today he gets out of rehab.

He originally tried to quit on his own, but after multiple relapses, he decided he needed help. Due to his multiple addictions and how long he's been addicted for, the doctors at the facility suggested a longer stay for him, to which he agreed.

Before he left, he gave you the keys to his apartment, putting you in charge of managing the place while he's away. You also promised to get rid of anything in his apartment that could potentially be abused.

Rehab had actually not been bad. It certainly wasn't easy, but Su-bong felt better about it knowing there were so many other people there going through the same thing as him. He had ended up making some really good friends there, friends that he was excited to see again once they all got out. A few of them had made plans to meet up at a coffee house soon, about a week after Su-bong is released.

The thing Su-bong has been looking forward to the most while in rehab is seeing you again. The only visitors that were allowed were family members, so he had to settle for just talking to you on the phone.

"Can I see you soon?" Su-bong asks into the phone.

"I have to work today, but I'm off tomorrow if you want to come by?" you say. "Oh, and I left something for you on your counter."

Su-bong smiles into the phone. "You didn't have to do that."

"Don't get too excited, it's not much," you laugh. "But I just wanted to give you something to congratulate you."

"I'll be happy with anything you give me," he says.

"Cheesy," you groan, making him laugh. A small gasp comes from Su-bong's phone. "Shoot, my boss just texted me I have to go in early. I'm sorry, I gotta go. Text me when you get home, okay?"

"All good," Su-bong says. "Yeah, I'll text you. Let me know when you get to the club and back home safe."

"I will," he can hear the smile in your voice. "I'll see you tomorrow."

<>

Su-bong walks into his apartment. A chill washes over him. It's been so long since he was here, and he's changed so much. He puts his things down, walking into his kitchen.

A feeling of dread fills him. Was six months enough? Is he really able to do this?

A glint catches his eye, and he sees a small chain sitting on his counter. Attached to it is a dog tag. He picks it up, examining it. When he notices a clasp on the side of the dog tag, he opens it, revealing a small note in your handwriting.

'I'm proud of you <3'

A comfortable warmth fills his body as he smiles at your note. He closes the tag, immediately putting the chain around his neck.

He looks around his place. It holds way too many memories of his time before rehab. Waking up with a headache so bad he's worried his head might implode, turning over to see some random girl in his bed who's name he can't remember. That's not how he wants to live anymore.

He takes a water bottle from the fridge, which you must have put in there for him, and sits on his couch, looking up listings for available apartments. Preferably one close to you.

<>

Su-bong feels his heart race as he stands in front of your apartment door. He's been waiting for this moment for six months. With a deep breath, he knocks on the door.

Footsteps are heard from the other side of the door. Something makes a loud bang and he hears you curse, making his lips twitch upwards.

The door opens and there you are. He swears you've only gotten more beautiful since he last saw you.

"Woah, I almost didn't recognize you," you smile.

He smiles, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. He hadn't dyed his hair since before rehab, leaving it at its natural dark brown. "Yeah, I've been getting that a lot."

"I like it," you say. "You look much more like Su-bong."

He feels his face heat up, muttering a shy 'thank you'.

You step to the side, opening the door wider. "Come in! I'll go grab a snack."

Su-bong walks into your apartment, a smile playing on his face at the familiar set up. You move to the kitchen and he sits on your couch. He chuckles at the new blanket laying next to him, clearly having been used recently.

He looks up as you walk back into the room, placing a bowl of pretzels and a bottle of blue Gatorade on the coffee table in front of him. You remembered.

He gestures toward the blanket. "That new?"

You put a pretzel in your mouth and smile at him, nodding enthusiastically. "My mom got it for me. You have to feel it, it's so soft." He chuckles as you cover your mouth with your hand, too excited to tell him about the blanket to wait until you've swallowed your food.

He reaches out to the blanket, eyes widening when his fingers graze the fabric. "Holy shit."

"Right?!" you laugh, picking up the blanket and sitting down. You toss it over both of your legs. You take a moment to study his face. "You look really good, Su-bong."

He feels himself blush, turning away in embarrassment. "Yeah, my pupils are finally the correct size."

You laugh at the comment. "Yes, that. But you also just look much healthier. Much happier."

He nods. "I feel happier. I thought I was happy all those nights at the club, drinking away my life. But now I know that wasn't real happiness." He looks at you, looking deep into your eyes. "This is real happiness."

Now it's your turn to look away, feeling heat rush to your face. "I'm glad. You deserve happiness."

He smiles.

"Even though you once tried to pay me to take off my shirt."

Su-bong cringes, bringing his hand to his face as you laugh. "Can you please stop bringing that up?"

You shake your head. "No way. This is the punishment you get for that. Me making fun of you. I think it's a fair exchange."

He laughs. "Fair enough."

You continue talking for the next hour or so, telling each other about everything and nothing. Su-bong's heart soars every time he is able to make you laugh. He's made music his entire life, but no song could ever compare to the sweet tune of your laughter.

"On Sunday I'm gonna meet up with a few friends from rehab at that new coffee place around the corner," he says. "Do you want to come?"

You shake your head. "Thank you for the invitation but I don't want to intrude."

"You wouldn't be intruding," he assures. "I, uh, talked about you a lot and they really want to meet you."

Your face heats up at his admission, nodding. "In that case, I'd love to go."

He smiles. "Good."

You put on a movie to watch, saying you saw one while he was away and couldn't wait to show it to him. Throughout the movie, Su-bong sneaks glances at you. He's wanted you ever since he first laid his eyes on you. You were the hot bartender with a fiery personality.

Now, though, as he watches you chew your lip in concentration, he sees just how amazing you truly are. You're the beautiful girl who changed his life for the better. The amazing girl who gave him a reason to become a better person. The kind girl who talked on the phone with him every day while he was in rehab.

You're his best friend. And he's deeply in love with you.

<>

Su-bong opens the door to the coffee house, letting you walk inside first before entering as well.

"Hey, Su-bong!" a voice yells, getting his attention. He smiles when he sees his friends, waving at them. He motions for you to follow him as you head over to the table.

"Hey guys," he greets, giving each of them a small hug. It feels nice to see them on the outside. They all accomplished the same thing, and they'll forever be close for doing it together.

He looks to you. "Oh right. This is Jung-su, Shin-il, and Ji-hae."

Each of them wave and smile at you as he says their names. Once he introduces you, they all seem to get a similar look on their faces.

"Oh, so you're the girl he keeps talking about," Shin-il smirks. Su-bong lightly smacks his arm, making the boy laugh.

"Shin-il, be quiet!" Ji-hae rolls her eyes. She turns to you. "He told us about how you helped him get sober. We're glad he had someone so supportive helping him."

You smile. "I just wanted to help any way I could. He's the one who ultimately chose to get help." You smile at him and he feels his heart melt. "And I'm glad he was able to make some great friends in there, from what he's told me."

"Aw, you talked about us?" Jung-su flashes Su-bong with puppy eyes, making the ladder roll his own.

"Plus, now he doesn't call me 'Señorita' anymore, so really I got something out of it too," you say.

The table bursts out in laughter and Su-bong hides his face behind his hands. "Maybe it was a mistake bringing you here, I didn't realize you were all going to gang up on me."

You laugh, rubbing his arm. "I'm just kidding. Come on, let's go get something to drink."

You move to stand but he puts a hand on your shoulder. "I got it. What do you want?"

You tell him your order, thanking him as he walks to the counter.

Ji-hae leans across the table to you. "He really likes you, you know," she smiles. "Talked about you all the time."

You smile. "He's a really great guy. I wish I could've talked to him sooner, maybe he would've gotten help sooner. He's my best friend now."

"You should go out with him," she says. "Based on how he talked about you, he'd treat you right."

You turn to look at Su-bong, smiling as he rocks back and forth on his feet while waiting in line.

"I do like him," you say, turning back to Ji-hae. "I just want to give him some time first. He just got out of rehab, I feel like he should have some time to figure out what he really wants and adjust to sobriety, if that makes sense."

"Totally," Jung-su says, nodding his head. "I've been out two months now and I still feel like this is all new."

"Just please be there for him," Shin-il asks.

You nod. "I'm not going anywhere."

On the other side of the coffee house, while waiting for your drinks, Su-bong feels a hand grasp his shoulder.

"Holy shit man," a familiar voice says behind him. "You dropped off the face of the earth!"

Su-bong turns to see the smiling face of Nam-gyu.

"Where have you been, dude?"

Su-bong opens his mouth to answer but is cut off when Nam-gyu continues.

"You know what, it doesn't matter." He pulls a small bag out of his jacket pocket. "I just got some new shit. It's fucking insane, man. You gotta try it."

He stares at the pills. This is the first time that drugs have been so accessible to him since before rehab. A cold sweat breaks out and his breath gets quicker. It would be so easy. All he'd have to do is pop one little pill.

He turns back to look at the table. You're sitting there, laughing with Jung-su. The sound flows to his ears and a soft smile graces his face. The sweat stops and his breathing goes back to normal.

He doesn't need pills anymore. He has you. And you make him so much happier than pills ever have or ever will.

He turns back to Nam-gyu, straightening his posture. "No, I don't do that stuff anymore."

Nam-gyu gives him a look. "Are you kidding, dude? You can't get this shit anywhere, and you're turning it down? What the fuck happened to you, Thanos?"

"It's Su-bong, actually," he says.

"No more Thanos!? What's going on?"

Su-bong opens his mouth to respond, but is beaten by another voice.

"Nam-gyu, leave him alone, please," you say, putting a hand on Su-bong's shoulder as you step beside him.

Nam-gyu looks between the two of you before a knowing smile spreads on his face.

"Oh, I see," he says. "So this is the guy you've been calling all the time." The barista calls out his name and he takes his cup. "Knew it was only a matter of time before you two got together, I should've bet on it." He turns, walking toward the door. "I'll see you at work!"

You wave to him as he leaves, turning to Su-bong. "Are you okay? He didn't give you anything, did he?"

He shakes his head. "He offered, but I said no. I was expecting him to be a lot less understanding."

"I've been talking to him the past few months at work, turns out he's not bad when he's not constantly sticking his nose up someone else's ass," you say, making Su-bong laugh. His name is called and you take the cups from the barista, thanking them before handing Su-bong's drink to him, taking his hand and leading him back to the table.

"Welcome back, Señorita," Shin-il smirks.

The table bursts out in laughter again and Su-bong stands from the table, waving goodbye to everyone. You grab his wrist before he can get too far, laughing along with him as he sits back down next to you.

<>

It's been about five months since Su-bong got out of rehab. He's been doing very good, resisting every time he feels even the slightest temptation.

He's gotten back into music and is working on his next album, which is going to be the first he's releasing that's not under the name "Thanos", instead rebranding as Choi Su-bong. You're of course his biggest supporter and he plays you all of his songs to get your opinion. You've even helped on a few songs, and he plans on crediting you as a co-writer.

Remembering what you told him nearly a year ago, he surprised you one day with your own guitar, taking the time to teach you how to play. You're still learning, but he loves everything you play, nearly as much as he loves your laugh whenever you play the wrong note.

You've been dancing around each other for the past few months, both aware of your feelings, but liking what you have going on between you for now. As time passes, though, Su-bong can feel himself getting closer to the edge, ready to take the leap.

One day you're both sitting in Su-bong's new apartment when he turns to you.

"Hey," Su-bong says. You look up from your phone at him. "I uh, I want to play something for you, if that's okay."

You smile, locking your phone and putting it face-down on the couch. "Yeah, I'd love that."

He stands up and reaches his hand out towards you. You take it, standing as he leads you to his piano. He sits on the bench, making room for you to sit beside him.

"I actually wrote this for you," he says, shyly looking at you. You smile at him, giving him a nod of encouragement. With a deep breath, he begins playing the notes before singing.

"I text a postcard sent to you Did it go through? Sending all my love to you You are the moonlight of my life every night Giving all my love to you."

You feel your eyes start to water as you listen to the words. His words reflect exactly how you feel, put in a way that makes it more beautiful than anything you could say to him.

You've heard him sing more ties than you can count. But sitting here next to him, listening as he pours his heart out to you, you don't think any song will ever compare.

"With every breath that I am worth Here on Earth I'm sending all my love to you So if you dare to second guess You can rest Assured that all my love's for you."

Su-bong puts his entire heart into the song. He had started writing it on the piano they had at the rehabilitation center. He had written a few songs while he was there, but this one was specifically inspired by you. The lyrics were from notes he would write down while talking to you, things that came to his head as your sweet voice drifted through the speaker of his phone.

"My beating heart belongs to you I walked for miles till I found you I'm here to honor you If I lose everything in the fire I'm sending all my love to you."

He stops playing, bringing his arms to his sides. He slowly looks up at you. "You've done so much for me. I don't think I can ever pay you back, but I'll spend the rest of my life trying if you'll let me."

A tear escapes your eye. You sniffle, nodding your head.

Su-bong reaches out to cup your cheek, wiping away the tear with his thumb. He looks down to your lips before looking back up to your eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

"Please."

He leans forward, closing his eyes as his lips make contact with yours. Su-bong has kissed girls before, more than he'd like to admit, but he feels like a teenager kissing their crush for the first time.

This is a moment nearly a year in the making. All of his longing for you, his adoration of you is put into the kiss.

He pulls back, regaining his breath as he looks over your face. Your kiss-swollen lips are just begging to be kissed again, but there's something that needs to be done first.

"I love you," he says. "I've loved you for a long time. You're the most amazing person I've ever met and there's nothing I want more than to be with you."

You smile at him, and he feels starstruck by how beautiful you are. "I love you too, Su-bong," you say. "I'm forever grateful that you showed me the real you that day in my apartment. Because I love the real you. So much."

Su-bong's face lights up in a smile, leaning forward to capture your lips again in an awkward kiss that makes you both laugh.

All his hard work is paying off. He is finally worthy of happiness. He is finally worthy of you. And he's going to spend every day making sure he stays worthy.

Song: Last Night on Earth by Green Day

Squid Game Tags: @thebiggestigurosimp @vvnbxz @lov3yy @miltzzy @l5byrinth @come-as-you-are-111 @starkeyszn @learninglinesintherainn @galactict3a @sawlover353 @jspidey5 @skywalker0809 @zannispppp @lianobody

Pt 2 tags: @dweeebazoid @apookalypse @jxsibat @fallout-girl219 @senorittaaaa

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist

[imaginespazzi]

Part 14: The End And The Beginning

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Still a flicker of hope that you first gave to me that I wanna keep (please don't leave)

(In which an infrequently-updating writer finally didn't take a month to update)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff and I guess a little bit of Hurt/Comfort

Words: 9.2K

TW: Swearing (and I believe that's it)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 It's a little past 2 AM but y'all wanted a chapter at an ungodly hour so here it is. It's insane to think that there will only be one more chapter of this fic. In all honestly I did have ways to drag it out for a little longer but ultimately, this felt like the right path to take. I feel like some of this chapter is a little OOC (though my lovely friends have said maybe I'm just being paranoid) but whelp it was for the plot so! Like I said, ungodly hour chapters means barely any editing for now but I will go over and fix things later. In the meantime if y'all wanna point things out in terms of grammar and typos, please feel free. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see as this story comes to an end. Have a lovely rest of your day (night?) my loves <3

June 2033 

Azzi thinks she might have every detail of her rather uninteresting bedroom ceiling memorized by now. After all -for almost 3 weeks now-  instead of sleeping, all she’s done is stared up at it, her mind wandering off to a thousand places, all plagued with the same face. Azzi hadn’t thought it was possible for her heart to ache as much as it had the morning after the proposal, when the regret had hit and she’d rushed into Paige’s room, only to be told by KK that the older girl was gone. The days following had been torture, like enduring a heart attack over and over again, the pain crescendoing until she’d gone numb from it. 

But last time there had been no false notions, no open-ended goodbyes, just a clean break and somehow that had been easier to live with. These last few days -filled with the unbearable waiting of maybe today she’ll come back to me- have been worse. Perhaps it’s because of the innate hope flickering like a candle within her. And even though the flame of it seems to get smaller and dimmer every time she sees Paige and the older woman still can’t quite make the promise to stay, Azzi knows that until that hope of hers is either completely shattered or fulfilled, there is no moving on from this hurt. 

Sighing to herself, Azzi grabs for her phone. The screen lights up to countless notifications and she bites her lip when she notices the one from Clémence. Dinner had been uncannily awkward last night in a way that it had never been before when the French woman had been a much more frequent presence in her and her daughter’s life. But in between Azzi being completely lost in thoughts of her and Paige’s conversation in the locker room and Stephie somehow managing to find a way to relate every little detail back to Miss Buecks and her face-falling a little every time she did, well it was suffice to say even Clémence’s attempts as making the dinner more cheerful hadn’t been enough to make the evening less of a disaster. Azzi had almost let out a sigh of relief when she’d finally dropped the other woman off at the hotel, trying to not to wince when Clémence had leaned in for a quick kiss on the cheek. But cleary she hadn’t been inconspicuous enough -and neither had Stephie, who’s voice had been rather devoid of her normal Clémence related cheer when she’d wished the Frenchwoman a goodnight- and the guilt from the way the other woman’s smile had faltered, still lingers in Azzi’s stomach. 

Chewing at her bottom lip, she swipes the text open. It’s a simple “it was good to see you two again.” and perhaps it doesn’t mean much -maybe Azzi’s doing that overthinking thing again- but there’s something about the formality of it, about the full stop at the end of the sentence feels rather definite. Azzi almost feels like she should apologize for something, perhaps for being so aloof last night or maybe even more. She knows that Clémence had wanted something else from her, had patiently waited for her to turn their relationship into something beyond just casual, something Azzi had never been ready to give to her. But it almost feels too late for any of that and so all she says is “it was good to see you too.” and she hopes that Clémence knows that despite everything, she means it. 

Throwing her phone back on the dresser and now feeling perhaps even worse than she had a couple minutes ago, Azzi pulls her blanket above her head, almost pleading with her brain to just shut off. She’s about to give into the impulsive urge to scream into her pillows, when instead her door creaks open and she immediately throws the comforter off of herself, reaching over to turn on her bedside lamp as she sits up straight on her bed. 

Stephie stands in the doorway, a fluffy teddy bear cuddled to her chest as she stares up at Azzi with big doey eyes and the older woman’s heart constricts when she sees the hint of sadness sitting heavily within them. Her little girl had been quiet all day -really since dinner last night. With today being a rare off day, the two of them had spent most of it lounging on the couch watching movies. But Azzi could tell something was off about Stephie. Her daughter, normally ever the commentator, had been dead silent, cuddling into her mother’s side and barely even chuckling at the comedy scenes. Truthfully, Stephie hadn’t been quite the same ever since they’d left Paige’s that morning -and with the amount of nights she’d snuck into Azzi’s room since, her mother had almost been expecting it tonight- but it seemed like something else had shifted last night. 

“C’mere baby girl,” Azzi says softly as she holds her arms open and Stephie dutifully climbs into them, burrowing her head into her mother’s chest, “what’s up?”

“Can’t sleep,” comes the muffled response from her daughter as Azzi gently rubs the little girl’s back, “can I sleep here with you?”

Azzi smiles, pressing a gentle kiss against Stephie’s hair, “of course you can sweetheart,” she whispers, before falling back into her pillows with her daughter still securely wrapped in her arms. 

She continues to brush her hands through Stephie’s hair, listening to the sound of her little girl breathing as she hums a lullaby. 

“Mama,” Stephie says tentatively, after a while. 

“Yeah Stephie-bean?”

“Yes-er-day when we were at dinner-,” the little girl swallows nervously and Azzi’s squeezes her shoulders, hoping it conveys that she’s listening, ready to hear whatever it is that’s been bothering the little girl, “yes-er-day at one of the other tables, I saw- I saw a woman with gold hair and she- she had it in a bun like- like the one Miss Buecks usually has.”

Azzi’s breath hitches, “go on sweetheart.”

“And she- she was-,” Stephie drops her voice down to a whisper, “she was kissing someone who looked a lot like you Mama.”

“Oh,” Azzi manages to get out as she feels her lungs compress. 

“And there was a little girl too and they both gave her lots of kisses too,” Stephie’s voice is small as she says the fact and Azzi has to bite her lips hard to keep in the sob that’s threatening to escape her lips. And she remembers the exact people Stephie’s talking about, remembers the way her heart panged as she’d seen the way three of them -the two women and their little girl- were practically giddy around each other. They’d looked almost like an exact replica of Paige, Azzi and Stephie, not that long ago. Azzi had, had to tear her eyes away from the scene, not wanting to let the tears that were dangerously close to her waterline slip down her cheeks. She hadn’t looked in their direction again. But Azzi hadn’t even imagined that maybe Stephie would’ve noticed that too, that her daughter would’ve felt the sting of the happy picture the same way she had. 

“Oh sweetheart-”

“My friend Anya has a Mama and a Mommy,” Stephie rushes out before Azzi can console her any further, “and my other friend Lena didn’t understand how that was poss-ble cause she has a Mommy and a Daddy like most of my other friends but Anya said it’s poss-ble and that her Mama and Mommy love each other just like Lena’s Mommy and Daddy love each other.”

“Anya’s right,” Azzi says softly, smiling at how simple children make everything sound even though she’s not quite sure where Stephie’s getting at with this story, “I’m sure her Mama and Mommy love each other a lot.”

“Anya says they kiss on the lips- just like- just like the women at the restaurant and like Nana and Pops or like Uncle José and Aunty Tully,” Stephie scrunches her nose as she finally untucks herself from Azzi’s chest, “Anya says that’s what people in love do but I think it’s kinda gross cause kissing on the lips looks kinda yucky.”

Azzi laughs, booping the little girl’s nose, “it does look a little funny.”

“But Anya says her Mommy and Mama do other things too. Like her Mama takes care of her Mommy when she’s sick and when her Mama cries over a movie, her Mommy laughs but then gives her Mama a big hug. And Anya says that sometimes when Anya’s Mama isn’t looking, Anya sees her Mommy looking at her Mama with a big smile,” Stephie stretches out her arms for emphasis as she climbs off of Azzi’s lap to sit on the bed next to her. 

“That sounds sweet,” Azzi says wistfully, still a little confused why she’s being told everything about Anya’s two mothers. 

There’s a moment of silence before Stephie drags in a deep breath as she stares intently at her mother, “I never seen you and Miss Buecks kiss, Mama.”

Her words loom in the air as Azzi’s mouth falls open, everything suddenly beginning to click, “Steph-”

“But when Miss Buecks was sick, I saw you make her soup and make her eat her med-cines even though Miss Buecks said they tasted yucky. And when you cry over Mr. Olaf melting in Frozen, Miss Buecks always says ‘Az you’re so silly, you’ve seen this so many times. How can you still cry at it?’”Stephie recites, doing an almost perfect impression that has Azzi’s letting out something in between a sob and a laugh. 

“But then she gives you a big hug anyways. And Mama,” the little girl continues, “when you’re not looking, I see Miss Buecks looking at you with this big, big, big, smile all the time.” 

“Stephie,” Azzi chokes out, trying to hold herself together. 

Her daughter looks at her with something almost like wonder, “you and Miss Buecks- you were just- you were just like Anya’s Mama and Mommy?”

“Yeah,” Azzi whispers, as she grasps the little girl’s hands in her own, bracing herself for whatever Stephie might say next, “yeah I guess we were.”

But Stephie doesn’t say anything for a while, sitting all quiet and contemplative for a moment until she slowly climbs back into her mother’s arms, resting her head right against Azzi’s chest. 

“Mama,” her voice is small when she finally does speak, “I really miss Miss Buecks.”

Azzi feels her heart constrict, finally losing the battle against her tears as they drip down her cheeks, and she tightens her grip on her daughter, “I know baby. I really miss her too.”

*** 

April 2025

“What are you doing?�� panic filters into Azzi’s tone as she watches Paige slowly get down on one knee, her heart pulsating as she slowly begins to understand why her girlfriend had set this whole thing up. Really she should’ve known as soon as KK and Ice had excitedly bound into her room, mischievous knowing smirks on their faces as they’d made her change into something nice before practically dragging her onto the roof. She should’ve known when she’d seen the candles and the pink roses and Paige just a little too dressed up in the midst of it all, that this was more than just one of the older girl’s lavishly planned date nights. 

Paige smiles up at her, either not hearing the distress in the brunette’s voice or perhaps not quite understanding the gravity of it. She reaches for Azzi’s hands, soft fingers entwining with the younger girl’s like their holding onto a lifeline. An unfamiliar sensation builds in Azzi’s stomach, one she doesn’t think she’s ever felt in Paige’s presence before.  

“Paige,” she whispers helplessly. 

“I’ve got you baby,” Paige squeezes her hands gently, mistaking whatever it is that Azzi’s feeling, for simple nerves. 

But it’s not that. Azzi knows this unsettling feeling that’s tornadoing around her isn’t just nerves or butterflies or whatever else it is that one normally feels before a proposal. It’s something much, much worse. Something almost like dread. And Azzi can feel all those suppressed emotions that have been building for the last couple of weeks-the whispers of thoughts that she’d brushed away as nothing serious- suddenly rushing through her body and settling like a large, immovable lump at the back of her throat. 

She remembers the first time she’d felt it, that unfamiliar twist in her stomach. It had been at a press conference after some easily won Big East game with UConn’s Big Three sitting diligently at the media-table. And it had suddenly occurred to Azzi, just as they’d finished their media availability, that she’d been asked exactly one question about her own performance -a respectable 24/4/3 statline- from the pool of reporters. Every other question of the four that had been directed her way, had been about Paige. She’d come to a stop outside the press room, letting herself sit with the thought for a second until her girlfriend -with her bright blue eyes and just-for-Azzi smile- had come bounding up to her. And suddenly, as it always seemed to be when it came to Paige, Azzi couldn’t think about anything else anymore. Not when the blonde was lacing their fingers together and putting her lips dangerously close to her ears, whispering all the sinful things they could get up to that night.

But then it happened again two games later. One question about her own performance followed by a cycle of questions about Paige during a presser where the blonde wasn’t even in attendance. This time Azzi had thought about it a little longer but then she’d chided herself for it, chalking it up to her brain doing that overthinking thing again. It was natural to be asked about teammates, especially superstar, generational, teammates who were likely to go #1 in the upcoming WNBA draft. 

And then it happened again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Until it was the Elite Eight and Azzi found herself, after a 28/5/4 statline and two clutch free throws to win it all, still somehow fielding more questions about Paige -and how the blonde had impacted Azzi’s game and recovery and their relationship as best friends- than about her own performance. 

That’s when she’d finally begun to understand what that twist in her stomach had been. She’d felt sick at the idea that it could be envy -how could she ever be jealous of her Paige’s success- but she’d understood then, almost gawking at the reporter who’d had the audacity to ask her, her fourth Paige-related question that night, that it wasn’t that. Maybe it would’ve been easier if it was. 

It was fear. 

The fear that her own identity in the basketball world was slowly withering away under the weight of her relationship. 

“Hey,” Paige’s voice feels like it’s coming from a distance even though she’s right in front of Azzi and the brunette swallows hard as she tries to pry herself away from her thoughts to focus on her girlfriend. 

“Paige,” she whispers back helplessly, as her eyes begin to water. 

Every time Azzi had imagined Paige proposing -the first time had been when she was 15 and she’d woken up from the dream, almost shaking but still filled with the serene calmness that came from knowing something was inevitable- she had always in fact pictured tears in her own eyes. 

But not like this. 

Because these little droplets cascading down her cheeks that Paige’s fingers diligently reach up to wipe away aren’t the tears of a girl whose dreams to marry her best friend -the love of her life- are coming true. They’re the tears of a girl who’s bracing herself for an inevitable fight when she puts her career before a relationship, when her head wins this fight against her heart. 

Blissfully unaware, Paige continues on, “I’ve um- I’ve thought of this a million times. Actually maybe a billion or a trillion or quadrillion. Point is I’ve been thinking about it pretty much ever since I met you.”

Stop, Azzi thinks but all that comes out is a whimper. 

“So you’d think, considering I’ve thought about it that many times, I’d have an actual speech prepared or something. And I did you know. I uh- I wrote one and then I hated it so I deleted it all and then I wrote another and then I deleted that one too,” Paige laughs and the sound of it, that had once felt like a warm blanket shrouding all of Azzi’s senses, now feels a lot like a wintry chill settling around her body. 

“And what I realized,” there’s moisture pooling in the blonde’s own eyes now, “is that I don’t need a speech. I don’t need hundreds of words. I just need three. I love you,” Paige presses a kiss against Azzi’s knuckles and the other girl shudders, “I love you so fucking much Azzi Fudd. And I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life.”

She lets go of the brunette’s hands to retrieve a black velvet box from her pockets and Azzi bites her lip so hard, the metallic taste of blood overwhelms her taste buds. 

“Azzi Jazlyn Fudd,” Paige says softly, flicking open the box to reveal a heart-cut diamond ring, “will you marry me?”

“No,” it comes out so soft, almost blending with the wind, that for a second even Azzi doubts she’d said it. 

“”What?”

Azzi clears her throat, “no.”

“No?” Paige repeats, blinking up at her with a mixture of confusion and anticipatory dread. 

“No,” Azzi says again, her voice much stronger now as she takes a step back, the tears freely falling from her cheeks. 

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” Paige, still on one knee, stumbles a little as she tries to formulate the right words, “you- you don’- no?,” her eyebrows furrow in confusion, “you don’t want to marry me?”

I do, Azzi wants to scream. 

“I can’t,” she says. 

Paige stares up at her, something akin to disbelief etched across her beautiful features, “what does that even fucking mean you can’t?”

“I just-” Azzi struggles against the jumble of thoughts in head as she tries to piece together a coherent sentence, “I can’t.”

“Bullshit,” Paige snarls. 

“Paige-”

“Do not Paige me,” the older girl seethes, her expression darkening, “you better fucking explain yourself.”

“I- I will,” Azzi stutters, trying to make herself small as she wraps her arms around herself, “can you- just,” she eyes Paige, who’s still kneeling one one knee, “can you please- please just stand up.”

Paige flinches, like Azzi has asked her to shoot an arrow into her own soul. And maybe she had. But she does as asked. The blonde’s movements are reluctant, almost like it pains her to stand up and when she does, the distance she puts between her and Azzi can’t be more than a few meters, but it feels like it stretches the length of an ocean. 

“Explain,” Paige says scathingly.

“I just-” Azzi takes in a deep breath, barely able to meet her girlfriend’s eyes as she forces out the next words, “I don’t want to be known as just your wife.”

Paige lets out an expected noise of protest, “you wouldn’t-”

“You don’t know that,” Azzi cuts her off with a pointed look, “because right now- right now sometimes it feels like all I am is just Paige Bueckers’ best friend. It doesn't matter how many points I score or how many defensive moves I make on the court or whatever else I do on the court, somehow it all leads back to you. And it makes me feel-,” she chokes on the next words, the acidity of them leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, “I feel invisible.”

“Azzi-”

The brunette holds up a hand, needing to finish what she’s saying before she fully succumbs to her emotions, “sometimes- sometimes my entire career at UConn so far feels like- like it’s just an extension of yours. Paige you- you get to be Paige. Just Paige. The superstar. You get to go to entire pressers not having to answer a single question about me or our friendship. You get to have entire articles written about you that have just a throwaway line about me and not have half of it be dedicated to how I’m the driving force behind your success. And that’s how it should be because- because as much as we rely on each other, your success is still yours. But sometimes it feels like mine isn’t mine.”

“I’m sor-”

“No!” Azzi cuts Paige off loudly when the older girl tries to apologize, guilt flashing in her eyes, “it’s not your fault Paige. You- you’re my biggest cheerleader. You always have been. But I just- I need to have my own identity. And that’s already been so hard being known as just your best friend. It’s only going to get worse if I-” she stops, unable to say the rest but even unspoken, it lingers in the air. 

If I become your fiancé. 

 “I need next year to be different,” Azzi says instead, “I need it to be my year. Just mine. Just for once, I just want to be known as Azzi.”

“It will be,” there’s a newfound conviction replacing the previous anger in the blonde’s voice as she takes a deliberate step towards Azzi. Bolstered when the other girl doesn’t instinctively move back, she takes another one and then another and another, until the seemingly never-ending distance between them disappears. 

“I understand where you’re coming from,” Paige says softly as she gently holds one of Azzi’s hands between her own, “and I hate- I hate that you feel this way. But it’ll be different next year when we’re not on the same team anymore right? Out of sight out of mind type shit? They won’t- they won’t ask you about me or make everything you do about me anymore-”

“You don’t know that-”

The older girl continues like she didn’t hear the interruption, “I just- I just don’t understand why you can be known as my girlfriend but not my-” she swallows, “but not my wife? Because Az- when we come out-,” the girl in questions flinches and Paige pauses, her expression falters at the movement. 

A deadly silence clouds the air and it’s April in Connecticut and the spring breeze is just the right temperature. But as Paige slowly lets go of her hands, realization dawning on her face, Azzi thinks she’s never felt colder in her life. 

“You- you don’t-” the blonde looks at her almost accusingly as she takes a step back, “you don’t want to come out?”

“Paige-”

“Answer the fucking question Azzi.”

Azzi casts her eyes downwards, digging her fingers as deeply into her palms as possible, “no, no I don’t.”

“I see,” Paige says slowly, her tone dangerously low, “and how long have you felt this way Az?”

“I-I-” the brunette stutters nervously, “I made- I made the decision after the Elite Eight.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Paige says calmly. 

“I don’t- I don’t understand-”

“How long Azzi?” the blonde sneers, “how long have you had all the fucking doubts about your identity and our relationship? How long have you been questioning everything about us? How long have you bee going through this whole fucking decision-making process about our future?”

“That’s not-”

“Oh no,” Paige interrupts harshly, “that’s exactly it. That’s exactly what you were doing. So tell me. How. Long?”

Azzi gulps nervously, “since the game at home versus Nova.”

Paige blinks at her, “three months? Three fucking months Azzi. You’ve been feeling this way for three months and you didn’t once think that maybe you should tell me? That maybe we should talk about it?”

“I didn’t know,” Azzi says helplessly, “I didn’t even understand it myself Paige. I didn’t know what I was feeling. I didn’t even know there was something to discuss.”

“But clearly you did figure it out, Azzi. Because I know you and I know you didn’t make this decision without figuring your emotions out, so why not come to me then? Why not tell me as soon as possible. God fucking hell Azzi- when even were you gonna tell me?” Paige yells, all pretence of calm gone from her body, “if I- if tonight hadn’t happened, when would you have even told me?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything and Paige shakes her head, starting to pace around the rooftop. 

“We had a plan Azzi. We’ve had a plan for four years. As soon as one or both of us was out of UConn, that was it. No more hiding. No more secrets. Just you and and me and we weren’t gonna care who the fuck knew about it,” the blonde pinches the bridge of her nose, “and you’re telling me that for three month- three fucking months- you’ve been questioning that whole fucking plan while I remained oblivious as fuck? Azzi all I’ve done these past few months is tell you how fucking excited I was about being able to call you my girl in front ov everyone. How excited I was to hold you in public and for us to just be us without giving a fuck who could see. And you just,” Paige’s voice breaks, “you let me. You let me do all of that- feel all of that. You let me be hopeful for a future that you weren’t even sure you could see for us.”

Azzi looks away, that rock of guilt settled in her stomach starting to get heavier and heavier with each word that leaves Paige’s mouth, “I’m just asking for a little bit more time Paige.”

“And what happens if that time doesn’t go the way you want it to Az?” Paige asks sadly, “what if we survive the next year but you decide that you can’t be attached to me to start your W career?”

“That won’t happen-”

“You don’t know that,” a sardonic smile appears on the blonde’s face, “I can’t keep hiding forever Azzi. All I’ve done is love you in secret. I can’t- I don’t- I won’t do that forever.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Azzi bursts out, her defensiveness suddenly translating into a burst of anger, “I am asking you for a little bit of time. Not even a whole year anymore. Just a little bit of time for me to establish my own identity and honestly Paige if you can’t even give me that- if you can’t understand why I need this time- then maybe-” she stops herself, eyes widening at the words -word she’d never even expected herself to think of - that are now sitting, like burning embers, on the tip of her tongue. 

“Then maybe what?” Paige asks slowly, but there’s an almost resigned tinge to her tone that suggests she already knows. 

“No,” Azzi shakes her head, turning away from the older girl’s piercing gaze. She looks down at the ground, still covered in rose petals. The wax of the glittering candles littered between them has melted onto them, causing their pink hue to turn into a darker shade of red. And it’s like there’s blood scattered on the remnants of Paige’s perfect proposal. 

“Say it Azzi-”

“No-”

“Say it.”

“I don’t want to,” Azzi covers her ears and she wishes this were a nightmare, wishes she could open her eyes and find herself waking up in Paige’s arms. Warm and soft and loved. 

“Godfuckingdammit Azzi,” Paige yells, “just say it. If I can’t understand why you need time then maybe we should what?” she repeats, waiting for the brunette to finish her own sentence. 

Azzi whimpers, continuing to shake her head, “Paige please.”

“Just. Fucking. Say. It.”

The younger girl swallows, “then maybe we should end it.”

Another beat of silence. 

“Maybe we should,” Paige’s voice is gravelly and Azzi doesn’t dare turn around, not ready to see the heartbroken expression -or worse, perhaps the nonchalant one- on the older girl’s face, “if after all we’ve been through, if it’s so easy for you to think those words. Then maybe we should- maybe we should end it.”

And Azzi thinks for the rest of her life she will wonder what she should have done next. If she should’ve said something or if -when she hears those retreating footsteps- if she should’ve run after her. She thinks, for the rest of her life, she will look back on this moment and dissect every single second of it, that she will wish for the time machine to go back and stop herself from doing and saying so many of the things she had on the rooftop that night. 

But Paige walks away. 

And Azzi doesn’t do anything to stop her. 

It isn’t until the morning after -when her head does finally catch up to her heart and all she can feel is that unfamiliar sting of regret- and she races into the apartment downstairs and Ice’s expression is filled with sadness and KK’s glare is filled with accusation, that she finds out just how far Paige had gone away from her and Azzi realizes, she’s just a little too late. 

*** 

June 2033 

There’s a redhead and a brunette, holding hands and chatting quietly as they wait outside the school. The two women are clearly entrenched in their own world -sharing those warm gazes and bright smiles that Azzi’s just a little too familiar with- blissfully unaware that they are currently being stared at. Actually, perhaps glared at is a more accurate statement because there’s a clear tinge of envy running down Azzi’s spine as her eyes remain laser-focused on the scene in front of her. She hadn’t meant to be doing this of course -nobody really plans to come to pick up their daughter from school and somehow end up stink-eying said daughter’s friends parents for being too in love. But as fate would have it, somehow from where she’s parked, Azzi has a perfect view of Anya, infamous Mommy and Mama. 

They’re sickeningly cute.

And Azzi fucking hates them.  

It’s unfair of her to feel this way; she knows that. But watching them lead the life she’d always imagined for herself, is more difficult now than it ever has been when Azzi had seen them before in passing. Back then, it was just a dull ache of something she craved but knew she’d turned away herself. But now- now she’s had a taste of that life; had gotten to live it out -even if just for a second- with the girl she’d always dreamed of living it with. Until one night and a series of revelations had snatched it all away, and now Azzi’s left with nothing but the bitter feeling of waiting to see if she’ll get that back forever or if it had really only ever been meant to be a fleeting moment in her life. 

A sigh of longing escapes her as she watches Anya go rushing into her mothers’ arms, the two of them catching her in perfect sync. She has the resentful urge to scoff at the scene. It’s all so goddamn dramatic for three people who see each other every day. Except Azzi’s mind is filled with memories that are almost exact replicas of the scene in front of her; just with different faces. 

“Hi Mama,” it isn’t until the backdoor opens and Stephie’s voice fills the car that Azzi finally tears her eyes away from Anya’s family. 

“Hey baby,” she choruses back, turning around in her seat to make sure her daughter is buckling herself in correctly, “how was your day?”

“It was okay,” Stephie shrugs and Azzi feels her heart plummet at how nonchalant the little girl sounds. She misses the sound of her daughter ranting about just how booooring school is, and thinks she wouldn’t even try to reprimand her if Stephie deemed school useless like she used to. Azzi just wants her ball of sunshine, talks-a-mile-per-minute child back because this meek, quiet little girl in the back feels like a shell of who Stephie used to be. 

“You excited for Mama’s game tonight?” Azzi presses as she starts to back out of the parking lot, almost relieved when it seems to cause Stephie to sit up a little straighter. 

“You’re- you’re playing the Liberty right?” the little girl asks quietly, “that’s- that’s where Miss Buecks wanna go? New York?”

Azzi freezes at the question, trying to keep her hands steady on the wheel as she hums in agreement. 

“They’re a good team right? Lots of champ-ships and stuff?” Stephie continues. 

“Yeah,” Azzi clears her throat, “it’s uh- it’s definitely gonna be a good game.”

“Anya’s Grammy and Grandpa live in New York. Not the city-city but close to it,” Stephie says after a moment, “Anya says New York’s really nice. She’s been there lots and lots of times to see her Grammy and Grandpa forChristmas. And she- she says when she went, it snowed lots and lots.”

Despite herself Azzi smiles as her mind drifts to memories of cold Northeast winters. For the most part, they had been filled with dreary chills and darky rainy days. But then amidst it all, there had been a couple rare days of snow and when she’d been at UConn, her teammates had taken full advantage. And just like most of her memories of those years, Paige is front and center of these ones too. The blonde had never been nearly as enamored with the snow as Azzi was, and she definitely wasn’t enamored by it at seven in the morning when the brunette would wake her up squealing that it had in fact snowed and the world around them was white. Despite her grumbling, Paige had still let Azzi bundle the both of them up in winter clothes and drag her outside. And her faux irritated expression hds slowly morphed into one of admiration as she’d flicked the snow off the younger girl’s eyelashes, pulling her closer by her scarf because Azzi I’m so cold, you have to kiss me to keep me warm baby. 

“We don’t get snow here,” Stephie says thoughtfully, unaware of the path down memory lane her mother had just taken. 

“No, no we don’t,” Azzi says, almost wistfully. 

“It would- it would be nice to live somewhere with lots of snow,” Stephie ponders out loud and her mother’s eyes widen as she starts to understand where this is going, “like- like in New York.”

“We could- we could have snowball fight and make snowmen like Mr. Olaf and snow angels and everything else you do in snow,” the little girl’s voice gets increasingly more and more high-pitched in excitement, “it would be so fun Mama.”

“Steph-”

“And Anya said that- that- that- she’d even visit me like she visits her Grammy and Grandpa. She promised Mama, she promised she’d come see me if I lived in New York-”

“Honey no,” Azzi cuts her daughter off heartbrokenly, “we are not going to live in New York. 

“But Mama, Miss Buecks-”

“Stephie stop-”

“No Mama listen,” Stephie protests indignantly, “Mama what if- what if Miss Buecks really needs to be in New York. What if it’s impo-tant. And that’s- that’s why she can’t stay here. With us. Not cause she doesn’t want to but cause she can’t. But Mama just because Miss Buecks can’t say doesn’t mean we can’t go Mama.”

“Sweetheart-”

“And you- you just said the Liberty is a good team and you’re such a good player Mama. I think you’d be good on their team too. And I- I really, really like the Valk-ries and I would really miss Aunty J and Aunty Tessie and Aunty Joy but if you- if you and Miss Buecks played for the Liberty- I know I’d like them too. And I’m sure Nana and Pops and Uncle Jon and Uncle Jose and Aunty Tully would come visit us lots and lots and I wouldn’t even miss them lots cause they’d visit so much. I just know it. It could work Mama- I know it could.”

“Stephanie,” Azzi's voice is louder than she’d meant it to be as she pulls onto their street, “sweetheart, we are not moving to New York.”

“But Mama-” the little girl whines. 

“No Stephie. That’s just-” Azzi swallows the sob stuck in her throat, “that’s now how the world works.”

“But what if I want it to work that way?” Stephie asks softly with all the innocence of a five-year old as she meets her mother’s eyes in the rearview mirror. 

“Oh baby,” Azzi’s so caught up in her daughter’s earnest wishful thinking that she doesn’t even notice there’s another oh-so-familiar car parked in her driveway until she almost crashes into it. 

“That’s Miss Buecks car,” Stephie whispers softly, craning her neck to get a better view. Her eyes widen in tandem with her mother’s as they both catch sight of the same thing at the same time. 

It’s Paige. 

Paige, whose eyes are sunken in and red-rimmed. Paige, whose hair is tossed back into a messy bun -looking like it’s been in that same one for days- with little loose strands falling out of it. Paige, whose entire body is hunched over as she sits on their front porch, holding a grey hoodie close to her chest. Paige, whose hands are fidgeting with themselves because she can never sit still, especially when she’s nervous. Paige, who looks up just as Azzi parks her car -whose staring at the both of them like they’re still her everything. Paige, who despite it all, still looks like the most beautiful woman in the world. 

Paige, who’s here. 

It’s Stephie who recovers from the shock of seeing Paige first, the click of her seatbelt being unclasped pulling Azzi out of her own trance. The little girl pushes her door open, getting out of her car seat with quickness as she stumbles out of the car. 

“Careful sweetheart,” Azzi calls out immediately but Stephie isn't listening, already rushing up the pathway as Paige -her expression hopeful- stands up at the sight of the child running towards. 

It isn’t until Stephie hesitates, coming to a halt just a couple of meters away from Paige, that Azzi draws in a deep breath and gets out of the car herself. Unlike her daughter, her steps are much slower, her movement hesitant and guarded. She knows this is it; knows that this is when all that waiting she’s done in the past few weeks will finally be over, that Paige is either here to fulfill a dream or to start a nightmare. 

Azzi walks up the pathway until she’s right behind Stephie, one of her hands instinctively reaching out to hold her daughter’s shoulder, conveying two messages. One to Stephie, a promise that no matter what happens now, she’ll still always have Azzi. The other to Paige is an unspoken message from a protective mother, silently begging her that if she is here to break their hearts, to break Stephie’s gently. 

“Hi,” Paige’s voice is croaky when she speaks, her eyes flickering nervously between the mother and daughter in front of her. 

Azzi clears her throat, willing herself to reply, “hey,” she pauses, continuing only when the older woman keeps her own mouth shut, shuffling her feet nervously, “do you- do you want to come in?”

“Yes,” Paige says, her cheeks reddening at how quickly the word leaves her mouth and that almost makes Azzi smile. 

She nods at the older woman, her hand travelling from Stephie’s shoulder to instead hold her hand as they walk up the steps together. Azzi’s shoulder brushes against Paige’s as she moves past the blonde to open her door and electricity courses through her veins. From the way Paige gasps, the brunette is sure she must’ve felt it too. It crackles in the air as Azzi unlocks the door, her brain feeling foggy at the mere feeling of having Paige so close after so long. 

The three of them walk quietly towards the living room, Stephie’s hands still clasped in Azzi’s and Paige following closely behind them. The little girl’s grip is tight and despite how young she is, Azzi knows just how perceptive Stephie is. She’s just as aware of this moment as the adults are, realizes it just as much as they do, that they’ve reached a crossroad and the path they take -a path determined by whatever Paige chooses- will shape their future together or apart. 

“I um- I- well- the thing is- I-,” Paige breaks the silence first, stuttering over her words before letting out a soft sigh She closes her eyes for a second and when she opens them, there are little droplets of water on the edges of her eyelashes. 

“I really missed you guys,” she confesses in a whisper, her voice breaking throughout. 

There’s a second of silence as her words linger in the air and Azzi feels Stephie’s hand slip away from her own and the little girl almost stumbles over her own feet as she races towards Paige, the older woman’s arms immediately opening to catch her and as she kneels down to pull Stephie into her her chest. It’s like the blonde’s confession had broken a dam, and the water that came rushing through it, had washed away the last little bit of pretence of nonchalance that Stephie had been holding onto. 

For the last few weeks, every time Azzi’s little girl had seen Paige, be it when she accompanied her mother to a practice or when she was on the sidelines at a game, Stephie had ignored the blonde, maintaining the same angry façade as the one she’d had the morning after that night. But Azzi had seen that resolve weaken over time; had seen Stephie’s eyes linger just a little bit longer on Miss Buecks with that familiar look of yearning. And Azzi had known that resolve was almost completely gone, in the car, when Stephie had all but begged her to consider moving to New York if that was the only way they were going to be able to keep Paige in their lives. 

She feels her own set of tears prickling in her eyes as she takes in the scene in front of her. Stephie’s face is pressed into Paige’s neck, the blonde has one arm wrapped around the little girl’s waist and the other other gently brushing through her hair. Their grip on each other is tight with barely any space for air between them, tears freely streaming down both of their faces. 

“I missed you too Miss Buecks,” Stephie sobs and Azzi notices the way Paige’s hold on her tightens at the familiar nickname, “missed you so much.”

“Me too Stephie-bean,” Paige affirms as she coaxes the little girl’s face out of her neck, cupping it in her hands, “I’m so sorry sweetheart. So, so, sorry. I missed you so, so, so, so much,” she says, punctuating each word with a kiss to Stephie’s face in between. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie looks down nervously, her fingers playing with the collar of Paige’s t-shirt, “can me and Mama come to New York with you?”

“Stephie!” Azzi exclaims as Paige’s eyes widen. 

“Wh-what?” the blonde asks softly as she searches the little girl’s face in confusion.

“I don’t want you to go,” Stephie says quietly, “but if you have to- then can we come with you?”

“Oh sweetheart,” there’s disbelief in Paige’s tone, something almost akin to awe as she tilts Stephie’s chin to make the little girl look back at her. 

“My friend Anya says New York’s nice,” Stephie rambles, repeating what she’d been telling her mother in the car, “and-and-and she says there’s lots and lots of snow and I told Mama that I think it will be nice to live in lots and lots of snow. Mama hasn’t said yest,” the little girl briefly looks back at Azzi with a sheepish look on her face before turning back to Paige, “but I know- I know we could cov-ince her because Miss Buecks, Mama’s missed you so, so, so much too.”

“Has she?” Paige asks, her eyes flickering to Azzi who’s trying desperately to keep her face neutral as she keeps her own gaze firmly fixated on a picture of her daughter on top of the mantle. 

“She has,” Stephie confirms, before using a finger against the older woman’s cheek to get her to return her attention back to her, “so can we come with you? Please.”

Paige slowly tucks a strand of hair behind the child’s ears as she shakes her head, “no.”

“N-no?” Stephie’s bottom lip trembles at the rejection, “why not? Why can’t we go to New York with you?”

“Because nobody’s going to New York, Stephie-bean,” Paige says firmly and Azzi’s eyes shoot towards the blonde, her lips parting slightly as she processes the meaning behind her words, her heart beginning to race with anticipation. 

“Nobody?” Stephie repeats as a question, her little voice filled with hope. 

Instead of answering, Paige grabs the grey hoodie she’d brought with her that had fallen to the ground. She gently un-scrunches it, holding out the sleeve of it for Stephie to look at. Azzi cranes her head curiously to get a better look of it, squinting her eyes when she notices something written in washed-out black ink. 

“You probably don’t remember this because you were a lot littler when it happened,” there’s a teasing smile of Paige’s face as she uses the incorrect word, “but the first time you ever spoke to me properly, you told me, that your Mama says that one day, you’re gonna be an even better basketball player than she is.”

Stephie beams, “Mama says I’m gonna be the best in the world today.”

Paige chuckles, “I believe it and I believed it then too. That’s why,” she points down at the hoodie, her fingers brushing over the material so delicately, like it’s one of her most treasured possessions, “that’s why I had you sign my hoodie.”

“You asked for my auto-graph?” Stephie’s eyes glint and perhaps she doesn’t quite remember what Paige is talking about exactly, but Azzi can tell that it’s stirred up recollections of something. 

“Yeah- yeah I did. And you said, ‘silly Miss Buecks, I’m not famous’ and I said, ‘but if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, you will be. Just like me and your Mama.’ And I meant it. You’re gonna be so- so great one day sweetheart. I know you are,” Paige says with conviction as her thumbs lightly caressing Stephie’s cheeks, “and I- I wanna be right here every step of the way, I wanna be right here to watch you grow up and become the great player -the great woman- that you’re destined to be.”

“You mean it?” Stephie asks, her eyes shining with a fresh new set of tears.

Paige nods, delicately wiping her thumbs under the little girl’s lower eyelid, “I do. I wanna be here, with you and- and your Mama,” she raises her head toward Azzi, mustering a watery smile, “I want to stay. Forever. If you’ll have me.”

Azzi lets out a staggered breath she didn’t know she’d been holding as her eyes remain locked with Paige’s. And suddenly, after eight years spent feeling unfulfilled -eight years spent with this constant sense of being incomplete-, hearing Paige finally say she wants to stay forever, feels a little bit like as if that missing part of Azzi has finally returned back to where it rightfully belongs. 

A loud squeal echoes throughout the living room as Stephie leaps back into Paige’s arms, a large smile stretching the length of her whole face as she buries her face back into the crevice between the blonde’s shoulder and her neck. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” the little girl chirps excitedly, “of course we’ll have you. Of course, of course, of course,” Stephie says in delight before she turns herself slightly in Paige’s grapes, arms still around the other woman’s neck as she looks imploringly at Azzi, “right Mama?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, pursing her lips as she tears her gaze away from the two people in front of her. 

“Mama?” Stephie presses. 

“Give me a second Stephie-bean,” Paige whispers to the little girl, bumping her head against her temple. 

From the corner of her eyes, Azzi watches as the blonde disentangles herself from Stephie, before slowly getting to her feet and walking towards the younger woman. 

“Az-”

“It’s been almost three weeks-”

“It’s been two weeks, six days, five hours and around fourteen minutes,” Paige shrugs, a hint of a smile playing on her face, “give or take a few minutes.

Azzi continues to look away from her, trying to keep her face devoid of emotion, “still took you a really long time to decide you were gonna stay.”

“Well I’m an idiot,” Paige says matter-of-factly and Stephie snickers behind her, “you know me Az. Sometimes these things- they take me a little while to understand.”

“I told you we wouldn’t wait forever,” Azzi says softly. 

“I didn’t make you wait forever,” Paige reaches out to gently grab her chin between her thumb and index, turning the brunette’s face towards her, “just needed a little bit of time.”

“You didn’t give me time,” Azzi accuses and the blonde flinches. 

“I know. I- I should’ve. Should’ve don’t a lot of things differently when it comes to us but I didn’t and I- I can’t change that but Azzi, I promise, I promise I’ll do everything right this time,” keeping one hand cupped around Azzi’s cheek, Paige uses the other to guide one of the brunette’s hands to rest against her chest, “I swear.”

Azzi swallows, feeling the quick rhythm of Paige’s heartbeat under her fingertips, “how do I know you won’t run away again?”

“Because I trust you,” the blonde whispers, “I trust you to stay and I trust you not to break my heart again. And that- that doesn’t mean that I’m not scared anymore- cause I am. Not a lot but definitely still a little bit. But someone once told me that, trusting is really scary but that maybe- maybe it would be a lot less scary, if we did together.”

“They sound like a really smart person,” Azzi bites her lip, “you should probably listen to them more often.”

Paige chuckles, “well if uh- if they give me the chance, I think I’d listen to them for the rest of my life.”

Azzi shudders and she doesn’t know if it’s from the earnestness of the words spoken or the strength of the emotions in the blonde’s gaze that’s still completely transfixed on her. 

“What about New York?” she asks finally. 

“I called the whole thing off,” Paige states nonchalantly,“I had Talia call Jonathan Kolb last night and I explained everything to Ohemaa this morning. Everyone’s on the same page. There is no deal anymore.”

“You-” Azzi gapes at the girl in front of her, “you- you already called the whole thing off?”

“I did,” Paige confirms, not a hint of regret in her voice, “I don’t need an escape plan.”

“You called it off before even talking to me?” Azzi asks, knitting her eyebrows together, “you didn’t even know how this was gonna go.”

“I already told you. I trust you,” Paige says simply, “I believe in us Az and I really hope you still believe in us too.”

The words are barely out of Paige’s mouth before Azzi’s crashing into her, the weight of her body sending the blonde staggering back a few steps before her hands steadily secure themselves around the younger woman’s waist. A slightly surprised gasp escapes Paige until the sound of it is stolen by Azzi pressing her lips against the older woman’s. Despite her initial surprise, Paige kisses Azzi back with equal fervor, both of them pouring the myriad of suppressed emotions between them the last few weeks into it. And it feels like a cliché, like coming home. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Paige breaks away first, eyes widening as she slowly turns around to look at Stephie who’s practically vibrating with happiness as she watches the two of them, “Stephie-”

“She already knows,” Azzi says with a slight grin, shaking her head fondly at just how joyful her little girl looks. 

  “You told her?” Paige looks between the mother and daughter. 

Stephie smirks triumphantly, “I figured it out myself Miss Buecks.”

“Of course you did smarty pants,” Paige smiles at the little girl but Azzi knows her well enough -is still so in tune with every little bit of Paige despite the time apart- to see the small hint of disappointment behind it. 

“I would’ve told her myself if she hadn’t,” Azzi says quietly and Paige turns back around to face her. 

“What?”

“I love you,” Azzi says and she swears no three words have ever sounded as right on her lips, as those three do, “I love you,” she repeats again and she can feel Paige’s hands shaking as they instinctively tighten their grip on her waist, “I love you so much Paige Madison Bueckers and I want everybody to know it. Stephie, our families, our friends, our teammates, the whole world. I love you and I never wanna hide that. I want everybody to know that you’re mine and I’m yours. Forever.”

A strangled sob escapes Paige’s mouth as she presses her forehead against Azzi’s, “I love you too. I love you, so, so, so much. I’ve loved you since the beginning and I’m gonna love you till the very end. Forever.”

Their lips meet in a searing kiss and it’s unclear if they’re both crying more or giggling more, as they hold each other as tightly as possible. And this isn’t their first kiss, far from it- far closer to being their millionth or so- but still it feels like a fresh new start, a brand new love story but with that same old special, all-consuming, forevermore love that has always connected them to each other. The one that had never gone away, no matter how long they’d been apart. 

“Ahem, ahem,” an exaggerated cough breaks them apart and the two of them turn their heads at the same time to see Stephie looking dramatically at them, her hands on her hips. 

  “So, Mama loves Miss Buecks and Miss Buecks loves Mama. What about Stephie?” she pouts, exaggeratedly stomping her foot. 

Paige and Azzi both laugh, removing themselves from each other just enough to crouch down and open their arms out for Stephie, beckoning for her to join their embrace. The little girl’s attempt at a sour expression is immediately replaced by a cheerful grin as she runs into their arms, tiny hands somehow managing to wrap around both of their necks. 

“You know we love you the most Stephie,” Paige whispers into the little girl’s hair, who lets out a content sigh as she burrows herself further into the two women’s arms. 

Azzi hums in agreement, closing her eyes as she leans her head against her daughter’s, feeling Paige’s fingers intertwine with her behind Stephie’s back. And then it’s quiet for a while, nothing but the sound of the three of them breathing and their hearts beating together in sync. Azzi feels at peace, her mind completely calm, no longer overthinking anything. 

Because now she finally has everything. 

Paige, Stephie, and the promise of a world the three of them can build together, it’s everything. 

[echo-riot]

✞⛧ Vi text messages ✞⛧

You: (2:04 AM)

Vi… you better not be in a bar fight right now.

Vi: (2:05 AM)

i’m not baby chillllll 💙

You: (2:06 AM)

Last time you said that, someone ended up with a broken nose.

Vi: (2:08 AM)

okAY but they deserved it. they called me a ‘pink-headed punk.’ disrespectful.

You: (2:10 AM)

So you’re NOT fighting?

Vi: (2:11 AM)

nah. not tonight. too busy missin you.

You: (2:13 AM)

You’re drunk, aren’t you?

Vi: (2:14 AM)

NO… okay maybe a lil. just enough to be honest.

You: (2:15 AM)

What’s so honest?

Vi: (2:17 AM)

that ur perfect. like stupidly perfect. the way ur smile makes my chest do this dumb fluttery thing. n how u smell like heaven. id literally fight god for you.

You: (2:18 AM)

You’d fight God sober.

Vi: (2:20 AM)

true but id fight harder drunk bc i’d win. n it’d be for you <3

You: (2:22 AM)

Vi, go home before I come drag you out of that bar.

Vi: (2:23 AM)

come get me babyyyy pls. i wanna see ur face.

You: (2:25 AM)

You’re impossible.

Vi: (2:26 AM)

n ur irresistible. 💙

You: (2:28 AM)

I’ll come get you. Don’t start a fight while I’m on the way.

Vi: (2:29 AM)

no promises. but i’ll try for u ;)

————————————————————————

(An: I got lazy so no more color coding mbbbbb)

Vi: (1:12 AM)

babe. hypothetical question.

You: (1:13 AM)

Oh no. What now?

Vi: (1:14 AM)

if i stole a cop car… but like… for a good reason… would u still love me?

You: (1:15 AM)

Vi, what the actual—why would you even need to steal a cop car??

Vi: (1:16 AM)

answer the question babe

You: (1:17 AM)

Are you drunk again?

Vi: (1:18 AM)

no. but i MIGHT be in a cop car rn.

You: (1:19 AM)

VI?!

Vi: (1:20 AM)

chill chill i didn’t steal it YET. just sittin in it for funsies.

You: (1:21 AM)

For FUNSIES??

Vi: (1:22 AM)

yes. god i love when u say “funsies.” ur so cute.

————————————————————————

Vi: (3:04 AM)

babe u know how i said i wouldn’t get into a fight?

You: (3:05 AM)

Oh my god, Vi.

Vi: (3:06 AM)

ok LISTEN. this guy said ur name wrong. like he MISPRONOUNCED it ON PURPOSE

You: (3:07 AM)

And you punched him, didn’t you?

Vi: (3:08 AM)

no. i headbutted him. different vibes.

————————————————————————

Vi: (11:42 PM)

babe… do u think i could suplex a vending machine?

You: (11:43 PM)

Why would you even want to do that?

Vi: (11:44 PM)

for u. ur fave chips got stuck. i’d risk my spine for ur snacks.

————————————————————————

Vi: (4:15 AM)

okay real talk. if i got a tattoo of ur face… would that be romantic or weird?

You: (4:16 AM)

Extremely weird. Don’t even think about it.

Vi: (4:17 AM)

damn. what about ur name? like on my knuckles.

You: (4:18 AM)

Still weird, Vi. Go to bed.

Vi: (4:19 AM)

what if i get “property of [Your Name]” on my forehead

You: (4:20 AM)

Goodnight, Vi.

Vi: (4:21 AM)

ight gn baby. love u more than i love punching ppl. <3

————————————————————————

[gracie-eilish]

Take me out, and take me home…

an: this is kinda long!! but here is my official fic based on Lover by Taylor Swift:) any blue text is Billie’s dialogue and any pink is readers. I hope you enjoy this one!! seven and Guilty as Sin are both coming soon. Peachy (pt. 2) is also going to be on the way! i wasn’t originally expecting you guys to want a part two so i’ll get writing!! 🥰✨🍑

warnings: intoxication mentioned, slight nudity but no smut, so much fucking fluff it’s like a unicorn threw up cotton candy in here.

alsoooo thank you also for over a hundred followers! that’s so many beautiful besties!! i’ve loved writing about billie and chatting with so many of you over the last few weeks and i can’t wait for more!! love ya💋

🩷🥂🫧💋✨

“Take me homeeeee” You slurred, stumbling out of the party you and Billie had just attended. Billie had an arm slung around your waist while you had an arm around her shoulders.

“We’re going home baby, I promise,” Billie replied with a giggle at your disheveled state. Even drunk as can be, she found you so beautiful. Your rosy cheeks even rosier, your big wide eyes now hooded and hazy and full of love, and the sleepy smile plastered on your face made her just wanna kiss it right off of you.

“Heyy babyyyyy? I have.. a very important question for… you.” You looked back up at her stoically, booping her nose as you said “you.” Billie planted a kiss to your temple to try to hide her giggle.

“What baby?” She quickly bent down to grab your waist again as you stumbled backward, making you burst into the most melodic sounding giggles.

“I’m your baby right?” This sent Billie into a laughing fit. The attempt at a serious look on your face combined with the cutest little question, she couldn’t help it.

She pressed kisses to your cheek and temple in between declarations, “My baby, *kiss* my princess, *kiss* my girl, *kiss* my angel, *kiss* my magical unicorn angel baby princess,” she added the last one with a giggle. That was your little nickname for anyone in your life who meant something to you. Your best friends, Billie of course, your little cat. And it never failed to make Billie laugh when she heard it.

“Why do you ask my love?” She questioned after your giggles calmed down again.

“Because I’m like… soooo many things right? But I don’t have a thing for you, you know? Like I need a thing for you. And I was thinking so hard in my brain tonight and I think I figured it out.” You stated matter of factly.

Billie just nodded for you to continue, holding you up a little tighter, and pushing some hair out of your face.

“You, Billie girl, are my-“ You got cut off by Billie’s phone dinging, signaling her driver was here. Without rudely interrupting you, Billie carefully walked you both over to the car, and carefully guided you into the back seat before scooching in herself.

“You warm and cozy mama?” Billie asked, fiddling with the heater in the back, kissing your forehead after you nodded in confirmation.

The ride back home was quiet, a stark contrast to the buzz of the club you two were just in, as well as to your own drunk ramblings. Some people liked to run when drunk, others call exes, and others just fall asleep. Not you. You were always a bundle of energy, ready to chit chat with anyone who would listen, and Billie found it adorable, never once silencing your tipsy rambles even as you both tried to fall asleep at 4am.

“Billie?”

“Yeah baby?”

“I feel like… I feel like I’ve known you for like.. twenty years. But also that’s like not possible. I’ve only known you for real, for like twenty seconds.”

Billie chuckled at your statement. Another little thing you did after drinking, was greatly exaggerate time. For example, if it was the middle of November and someone complained about you still having Halloween decorations up, you’d gasp in shock saying Halloween was “literally like 20 minutes ago.” You two had been dating for about three years now, so Billie just chuckled understanding twenty seconds was three years in your own little drunken time zone tonight.

“Twenty years is a long time baby,” she replied softly, pulling you in closer to her side, letting you rest your head on her shoulder.

“It’s like such a long time. *sigh* Can we still be this close in twenty years?”

This sent both of you into giggles. Billie couldn’t help herself anymore, smothering you in kisses, each one accompanied by a little “mwah!”

“Baby once I get a ring on that finger, we will be this close for a lot longer than twenty years hun.” She pushed some hair behind your ear, watching your cheeky flush under her gaze.

“For ever and ever, you’re my-“

Your conversation faltered again as you pulled up in front of your place. Billie thanked the driver and helped you out of the car before guiding you up to your apartment. Not without few stumbles and bumps along the way.

You were starting to feel a little sleepy but Billie knew you’d get a second wind once you got inside, but she still got butterflies when she felt you wrap your arms around her from behind and rest your cheek on her shoulder as she unlocked the door.

Billie almost jumped out of her skin as you gasped dramatically at something, scaring the shit out of her.

“Baby!” You had your hands on your cheeks in shock, looking back at her as she locked the door behind her.

“We left the Christmas lights up!” You paused before turning back to face the lights. “Until January!”

“Is that a bad thing?” Billie was so confused but went along with it.

“Isn’t that like… against the rules? Christmas was like a million days ago!”

“This is our place, we make the rules.” Your eyes shined up at Billie like she just revealed the meaning to life.

“Oh. My. God. You’re so fucking right babe.”

Billie chuckled and kissed your temple before guiding you to the kitchen and sitting you down on a stool as she got you some water and a small snack.

“Drink up lovie, I don’t want your pretty little head hurting tomorrow.”

As you sipped your water and nibbled on some snacks Billie went into your shared bedroom to get you some pjs and start the shower.

Billie ran her hand under the water to check the temperature before stopping, hearing such a sound come from the kitchen. She dried off her hand before tip toeing back to the kitchen to find the source of the.. sound? song? cry?

“You’re my my my myyyyyyyyyy,” it was you. And your second wind Billie had predicted. You were spinning around on stool singing.. well singing something, only stopping when you caught sight of Billie.

“Babyyyyyy!!! You came back!” You cried out with a huge smile and your hands out, wiggling your fingers as if it would magically will her closer to you. And to your knowledge, it did magically will her closer as she wrapped her own arms around you, kissing the top of your head a few times, chuckling softly.

“I finished my snack and my water. I’m so good at that.” Billie chuckled and simply placed her forehead onto the top of your head.

“You’re killing me here babe.” She said, lifting her head back up and pushing the hair out of your face. You just shrugged nonchalantly before puckering your lips dramatically. Billie smiled adoringly before leaning in and giving you a soft almost angelic kiss, squishing your cheeks a bit too.

“Alright tipsy girl, you wanna go shower and get comfy?” She said holding your shoulders while you nodded. She could tell you were starting to get sleepy, but she knows you’d be grumpy in the morning if you hadn’t showered and you were hungover.

As she guided you into the bathroom, you were humming that little song again, Billie has never heard it before.

“That’s a pretty song your singing there lovie.” She said, helping you out of your clothes.

“Thank you. I’m writing it myself. Right now.”

“Oh really? You wanna sing some more of it for me?”

“Mmm maybe when I’m in the shower. I need to write more words first.” Billie nodded, holding back a laugh.

“Of course, of course. How could I rush such art?” She replied. “Do you want me to come in with you? Need help?”

You gasped and softly nudged her shoulder, “Billie! That’s dirty!” Billie kissed your cheek softly, a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Baby it’s not dirty. We had sex in there this morning.” Your jaw dropped and face flushed at Billie’s statement. Your drunk brain not seeming to remember that right now.

“Oh my gosh Billie. You have to promise not to say things like that in front of other people.” You drunkenly pleaded, face totally flushed.

“I promise mama. I save my dirty jokes only for you.” She said with a wink, making you sigh in relief.

“Oh thank god.” Eventually you did in fact pull Billie in there with you. You claimed you didn’t need any help, but you couldn’t deny Billie’s fingers massaging the shampoo into your scalp was heavenly. The rose smell of your shampoo mixed with Billie’s woodsy vanilla body wash she used on you wrapped around you almost as tight as Billie’s arms, making your eyes droopy as you rested your head in the crook of her neck, leaning back into her and she pressed tiny kisses to your own shoulder. Her hands slowly roaming around your body, over your stomach, up to your boobs, a squeeze to your hips, a couple more squeezes on your shoulders and back to your stomach where her arms wrapped tightly, and contentedly.

“You ready for bed angel?” She whispered into your ear, hands giving your hips another squeeze. You just nodded sleepily turning around in her arms to give her a proper hug.

“Thank you by the way,” Your words a bit more steady now as you slowly sobered up.

“For what baby?”

“For saving me a seat at the table tonight. Since I got stuck in traffic. I was nervous everyone else would wanna sit next to you,” You said it so small and sweetly that Billie felt her heart grow ten sizes, knowing that at every table, she’d save you a seat for the rest of her life.

“Oh babygirl,” she cooed, cradling your head closer into her as she hugged you tighter.

She gave you one last kiss to the top of your head before shutting off the water. She stepped out and grabbed your towels out of the little towel warmer and wrapped herself in one quickly, before heading back to you. She shut the shower door again to keep the warm air in as she carefully dried you off a bit before wrapping you in the fluffy towel, with a kiss to your nose.

A comfortable silence filled the room as the two of you got ready for bed. Well really, Billie got ready for bed and then helped you do the same thing. You giggled at her focused face as she carefully dabbed moisturizer to your skin, only silencing your giggles with a kiss making both of you smile.

She had her own giggles watching your droopy eyes fight to stay open as Billie dried your hair with a towel. You absolutely melted into a puddle anytime Billie had her fingers in your hair, so her fingers mixed with a warm fluffy towel was sending you to dreamland.

When she finished, Billie helped you off the counter and gave your butt a little pat as she guided you back to your connected bedroom, shutting off the bathroom light. The two of you changed into some pjs, Billie giggled while helping you with the buttons after you whined not being able to do it right now.

���I can’t see sometimes.” You grumbled as she buttoned them with ease.

“You can’t see sometimes??” Billie asked, raising an eyebrow and biting back a smile.

“Ugh you know what I mean.” You groaned, playfully smacking her hand away once she finished.

After making sure you could get on the bed, Billie quickly went around the apartment, shutting off the lights, making sure your pets were okay, and locking the doors before returning and shutting the bedroom door behind you.

She slipped under the covers, pulling you closer to her, letting you snuggle yourself into her side like a little kitten. Once she was sure you were practically purring like one as well, Billie settled into her own pillow, letting her arm rest on your back.

“Did you write more of your song while you were in the shower?” She asked, squeezing your side quickly.

“Oh my gosh, baby I did and I forgot to tell you.” But it came out more slurred, your eyes were closed and Billie knew it would be minutes before you were fast asleep.

“That’s okay baby. You can tell me now. Sing us to sleep mama,” She whispered, kissing your cheek before settling back in your hold.

“Wait I forgot how it goes.” You were still a little drunk after all. Billie giggled trying to remember your ramblings from earlier in the night.

“I think I remember.. You kept saying “You’re my -“ and then you didn’t finish that bit. And then you were singing it in the kitchen,” Billie opened her eyes to look down at you, you seemed to be asleep at this point, but the slight furrow in your brows told her you were thinking about your little song, so she continued, whispering,

“You’re my, my, my, my….”

“Oh!! You’re my, my, my, my…” you trailed off again.

“Darling, you’re my, my, my, my…”

“Lover.”

[natigail]

First gaming video of 2025 and Dan and Phil have never been this fucking soft and open. I kept needing to pause the video and go back over sections, just to bask in their answers and make sure I actually heard them correctly.

Every minute had some moment that made me want to linger, eyes looking first at one and then the other, soaking it all in. They really weren't kidding when they said that video would have everything. Competitive "gaming" (though they were neither really gaming or very competitive), societal commentary (the ending bit!!!) and being parasocial with us (we know them so well and yet there always feels like there's new to learn).

So many highlights that it almost feels impossible to capture them all. Dan thinks that Phil is the funniest person he knows. And Phil was perking up immediately gesturing at himself before Dan was even done reading the question. Phil knows he is the funniest person Dan knows, and he acknowledged it so shamelessly. He's a silly little guy and so funny, Dan really couldn't say anyone else.

Within the bit, but calling each other girlfriends felt so tender. And while they could lean hard into the female friends reference from the game, it was just emphasised. Like when Phil looked right into the camera and told us he was excited to learn more about his girlfriend. Don't look at my rewind count.

Dan predicting that Phil would topple the whole tower by sliding his chair into their stupid, tiny, blanket covered wobbly table on wheels (WHO PLAYS JENGA ON SUCH A THING). The shout of joy when Dan won and Phil pouring jenga pieces over him, as well as stacking them on top of his own head at the end. The fact they didn't fucking print a jenga piece but stuck an actual one on the board with blue tack (discount ver.).

Phil pressing Dan to actually answer some questions a little deeper, like the music one, where it felt like we were all old friends. Because yeah, we know the Muse lore. It's their story but they've shared it so freely with us that it feels familiar. Phil saying his favourite clothing store is their merch site where there's currently one T-shirt available. (But they have had some banger merch through the years, I personally own so much of it). Dan yapping so much that Phil just went ahead and played his turn while Dan was finishing up, further playing into the notion Dan yaps in circles and Phil's brain can just filter him out when he gets like that.

The soft looks, the way their eyes kept crinkling with fond smiles, and how they seemed so energised. The casual mention about the text reveal that it would be a spoiler for next year's wdapteo! When I tell you my heart leapt, because I know they promised not to leave post tour this time again but any reassurance is gentle cradled against my chest all the same.

There's not the tiredness in them like the end of II. TIT has only a few weeks left and they're bouncing. Vibrant and so fucking alive that it's infectious. They joke about the parasocial but they also know that it matters to us, and it matters to them on some level as well. They know us. We're their little gremlins that they accidentally summoned and it might have been overwhelming at times, but we've also brought them good things. Nice moments. Just the sincerity of it all.

Bless Phil's impulsive eBay purchase of a 90's gendered jenga that had been sitting on some aunt's floor. They make simple games so fucking fun and entertaining and this video is an instant fave. As evident by the fact, I needed to take a page from Dan's book and yap my little heart out.

[purplereina11]

New Signing, New Beginning Part 8

Mia Larsen was Barcelonas new summer signing

Alexia Putellas is a club legend who just can't seem to talk to her

Alexia came into the locker room at full time, she looked to Pere, “Any news on Mia?”

Pere shook his head, “No..”

One of the staff handed her a set of keys, “She asked me to give you her car keys” Alexia held them tightly even in Mia’s darkest hour she held her promise. She told Alexia she’d drive her home after the match and obviously now she couldn’t she’d left the car keys so she could still get home with no worry. Alexia pierced her lips checked with Keira Ingrid and Patri and none had heard from her. She sat down with a sigh.

Alexia didn’t sleep a wink constantly checking her phone after firing off a text to Mia asking the most stupid question are you ok? She cursed herself the minute she sent it. When she got injured that text would enrage her because obviously she wasn’t ok, she was far from it she was a mess. She didn’t want Mia to be a mess on her own however so the following morning she drove over to her grandparents house, there was no answer when she knocked on the door. She looked through the windows and there was no sign of Mia, she wished people would stop asking her if she’d heard anything about Mia because she wouldn’t feel so panicked if she knew herself.

The more she was asked the more she panicked that people knew something that she didn’t. 

She just needed to see her. Once she saw her, the worse case scenarios could stop racing through her mind.

+

Mia was shattered laying on Keira’s sofa her leg up completely covered with ice, she watched Keira pander. Keira came to the hospital at 5 o’clock this morning to collect her and bring her back to her apartment, “You don’t have to do this”

“Yes I do, you’re my friend” Keira sat on the coffee table, “Here, you’re due your pain meds” Keira put them in Mia’s hand and handed her a glass of water. “You spoke to Alexia?”

Mia shook her head, “I haven’t looked at my phone, I let my family know I was fine then just haven’t looked at it since, I can’t deal with the sympathy I’m too tired to be constantly telling people I’m fine”

“You’re not fine” Keira took the glass putting it behind her on the coffee table, “I can contact her if you want, she’ll be worried”

“Will she?”

“Mia she was a wreck, every five minutes she was at the side asking if they’d heard anything, she clearly cares”

Mia stared at Keira, “We kissed Thursday”

Keira chocked on thin air in shock, patting her chest to try to help clear the blockage “What?”

Mia smiled softly, “She’s so awkward it’s actually adorable”

“I’m missing a few chapters I think” Mia recounted the tale of Thursday Evening by the time she got to the end there was a knock on the door, “Hold that thought, I have so many questions”

“I’m sure you do” Mia said wincing as she adjusted herself, her whole body ached from the tackle, her body had hit the ground awkwardly also to make matters worse. “I haven’t said anything to anyone by the way”

Keira nodded before pulling the door open Keira smiled softly seeing Alexia stood at her door, “Sugar?”

Alexia smiled, “No. Have you heard from Mia? Is she still at the hospital? I went to her Grandparents and she’s not there”

Mia lowered her head, she shouldn’t of been happy about how worried Alexia was as she sounded in a complete and utter panic, “She’s on my sofa” Keira stepped back letting Alexia come into her apartment with an encouraging head flick.

Alexia let her feet carry her over to the sofa, when she saw Mia who looked broken and tired she just wanted to wrap her up and never let her out her sight, “Careful Putellas” Alexia smiled, the attitude was still there, “People might actually think you care there for a second”

“Mia” Keira spoke, Mia lifted her head over the back of the sofa, “You ok? I’m going to grab a shower since Ale is here”

Mia nodded, “I’m sure she won’t kill me whilst your gone” Keira smiled seeing Alexia roll her eyes before she left to leave the pair alone, Mia looked over Alexia standing awkwardly, “You can sit down you know”

Alexia nodded, “What did the doctor say?”

Mia winced trying to push herself to sit up a little more, Alexia was there instantly hands there wanting to help but not knowing where or howto even help. She gently sat next to Mia who was nestled perfectly in the corner of the corner sofa, she looked comfy despite her pain. “He said for the swelling and bruising, I’m lucky I haven’t broken or torn anything. I don’t feel very lucky, he said I could be out at least a month. Couldn’t of come at more of a shit time” Alexia moved closer slipping an arm around Mia popping her under her arm, “Don’t be nice to me, I’ll cry” She was already silently crying, “Just feels unfair” Mia’s hand came up to wipe her tears, Alexia beat her to it to do one eye, Mia moved her face to look up at Alexia. She smiled ever so slightly when Alexia’s face lowered and their lips connected. It was tender, sweet and innocent.

Keira came back from starting the shower to get Alexia on her side about the ridiculous notion Mia thought she could cope alone at home, she’d hoped Alexia could talk some sense into when she was in the shower sick of fighting the battle herself, she smiled seeing them kissing and retreated to take her shower.

“Cute” she said to herself closing the door.

+

“Alexia” Keira said as she came back from the shower getting straight in the kitchen to make some dinner, Mia couldn’t have an empty stomach on the strength of pain medication she was on.

“Si?”

“Who’s right me or Mia”

Alexia looked when Mia grumbled, “Fuck sake” as her head went back.

“You’re only saying that because you know she’ll agree with me” Keira smiled, “Mia is saying she’ll be fine to go back to her grandparents today or tomorrow”

Alexia’s brows instantly furrowed and the girls knew where Alexia stood on the matter instantly, “You’re grandparents are away, you can’t be alone”

“I’m not staying here it’s not fair on Keira.. Or Laura for that matter that” Mia turned her attention to Kiera, “Who you say yourself you don’t see enough and is coming tomorrow, it’s going to be real romantic for you if I’m hanging around”

“Come stay with me” Alexia said looking to Mia, “Actually, Capitana, I say you come stay with me, problem solved, Keira can sleep with her girlfriend in peace and I can keep my eye on you”

“Keep your eye on me, have you seen my ankle I’m not going anywhere”

“Oh” Keira opened the freezer, “Pass those bags of ice Ale, they need changing over”

Mia saw Alexia’s face when she saw the state of her ankle and she just knew in that moment she was going to be held captive four floors up for quite some time, she was never letting her out her sight. Even with her grandparents due back in 2 weeks. She questioned whether she’d see her bedroom ever again.

Alexia spent a few hours on the sofa with Mia just mindlessly watching TV with her, just happy to be close. Even if when Mia insisted on watching her real housewives Alexia just couldn’t keep up with the English, “So much shouting” she mumbled as she tried to tune in, “They talk so fast” Mia giggled glancing to her.

“I feel like that in training some days”

When she went home to see to Nala and make the spare room up and running out to the shops to make sure she had everything she needed. Mia had visits from Patri, Ingrid and Mapi.

“Did they say how long you’ll be out for?” Ingrid hugged her before finding a seat as the living room in Keira’s apartment was filling up

“They said a month, could be more, could be less, when the swellings gone down they want to do more tests and scans just to be sure”

Patri nodded, “I suppose it’s hard to get a clear picture with all the swelling”

“You spoke to Alexia? She was really worried” Ingrid asked

Keira smiled, “Kidding aren’t you, she was here all day, couldn’t get rid of her, wouldn’t stop fussing”

Mia smiled softly, “It was sweet”

Patri looked to Mia and there eyes connected, “I was just trying to help a friend” Mia nodded

“I know.. we’re fine now, so, thank you” Mia was genuine, even if Patri didn’t know how fine they were.

“You’re not mad?”

Mia laughed softly, “Thursday I was telling her how I was going to punch you but you got off lucky because” Mia motioned to her ankle, “I couldn’t stand to punch you even if I wanted to”

“I mean” Patri held her hands up, “If you’re hanging out seems it all worked out just fine”

“Yeah, it didn’t back fire on you, we’re cool”

“I figured it was going fine when I didn’t get any abusive texts” Patri explained to Ingrid and Mapi how she got Mia thinking they were going for dinner when it was in fact Alexia that was there waiting for her.

+

Alexia was incredibly sweet and attentive with Mia over the first few days she was staying with her, she was supportive both physically when she just needed someone near by for confidence when she used her crutches to get to the bathroom, and emotionally when it all got a bit much and Mia cried. She didn’t sleep at night because the pain annoyingly always seemed worse and her little naps in the day just weren’t cutting it adding to her fragile emotional state. She was just so tired. Alexia seemed nervous to go away for the away match Barcelona had despite Mia insisting she would be fine.

Alexia’s sister Alba had come over a few times to keep Mia company when Alexia was out at training or a match, her mami even came over one time, Mia figured it was to suss out the women currently living in her daughters home but she was just as lovely. Mia could see where Alexia got her caring side from her mother was just as attentive whilst Alexia was away for the away game.

“Hola” Eli spoke cheerfully as she entered the apartment, Mia quickly trying to wipe at her tears, “Carino?” Eli asked coming over and coming onto the sofa holding her tightly as Mia cried, “Carino whats wrong?”

“It just hurts so much. I feel like I can’t cope. I’m getting overwhelmed with it all and I’m so tired”

Eli put Mia’s hands into hers, “Listen to me Carino. You’re on day four, this will get better, I can promise that”

“Bet you think I’m an idiot after Alexia’s injury” Eli shook her head wiping at Mia’s tears.

“Not at all. Because this is your injury, and this is happening to you. This is your world spinning, it doesn’t matter about anybody else right now”

Mia took her hands back to hold her sleeves under eyes, “I just want my mum”

“Oh Carino” Eli leant forward and held her tight as she sobbed into her shoulder, she shushed her as she rubbed her back, “I know I’m not your mami, but I am a mami, you can always come to me” Eli held her face to look at her and hold eye contact to make her point, “Ok?” Mia nodded her head, “Shall I ring Alba? She can bring pizzas over and we can watch the game together”

“I’m sure you both have better things to be doing”

“We’re watching the game either way, doesn’t make a difference whether here or separately in our own homes to us, but it makes a difference for you, we’ll watch it here” Eli got on her phone, “Hola Alba” Mia’s heart warmed at Alexia’s family how they just loved no questions asked, they barely knew her, Alexia barely knew her but they were doing everything and anything they could for her. It did make her wonder what Alexia was saying to make her mother want to, well mother her like this. Did she know something Alexia was saying that she’d yet to say to her?

Mia was sat up when Alba arrived sick of always lying down, “Do I look a mess?” She asked

Alba pulled a face, “Yeah.. kinda” Mia smiled, “We can fix that though” Alba took a seat putting the pizzas she bought on the coffee table.

“How many pizzas did you buy?” Mia asked laughing softly, “You hungry?” Mia looked to Alba who laughed

“I didn’t know what you like so I just got a few” Eli came and sat down with some drinks, “I hope you’re hungry”

“Alba” Eli said softly in shock

“I’ll give you some money”

“No” Alba waved her hand

Mia laughed, “You just spent like 100 euro on pizza, I’m giving you some money” Mia watched the TV as she opened a few of the boxes as the girls started walking out, Mia looked down as Nala sat on the floor looking up at her, “You can’t have any, maybe some cheese when it cools” she ruffled her head.

Mia sat back with her slice as the other girls tucked in also, she smiled when she saw the girls holding her shirt for the team photo

“Cute” she commented taking another bite, Mia laughed smiled, and cheered along with the Putellas women, Alba stayed later than Eli, she nipped home and came back with an over night bag, and they had a pamper evening with some cheesy romantic movies on in the background. Mia never had a sibling let alone a sister but she wondered if this was what it was like, not that she could see Alexia letting Alba put a mud mask on her face. However. Stranger things have happened in life.

The girls stayed up later than they probably should of chatting and putting the world to rights, before Alba went to the spare room and Mia went to Alexia’s where she’d been spending her nights, it felt weird without Alexia but she was so tired she soon was none the wiser sleep pulling her under.

+

It was a tough couple of weeks for Mia to even just get back to full training, every day she came in after the girls finished and she noticed Alexia stayed behind every day to watch her progress. Shared happiness in her breakthrough cheering and clapping, on the flip side always there with a comforting arm when something just didn’t go the way she wanted. A level headed word in her ear always rationalising things for Mia letting her head take over her feelings and not her heart.

But the day she was listed as substitute again, she couldn’t of been happier, she didn’t stay with Alexia all too long but when she went back to her grandparents it started nightly FaceTimes she absolutely adored. When one night Alexia had a meal out with her family and couldn’t FaceTime Mia missed it, she didn’t sleep the same that night.

Mia came to be subbed on in the 60th minute Ingrid behind her, Ingrid tapped her side and they shared a smile at the crowd chanting her name on the champions league night. It was her mums birthday, Ingrid Patri Keira and Alexia all knew. It was need to know for Mia. Mia had expected Ingrid to tell Mapi but she hadn’t. Mia got a hug from Patri who made way and she came jogging onto the pitch Alexia got the sweetest smile as Mia jogged past her slapping her on the back as she went. Clearly she was happy to have Mia back. Alexia had been caught in the last game exclaiming to herself when she played a perfect ball and no one was there, that. Mia would of been there

It wasn’t long for the pair to get back into there old rhythm making a nuisance of themselves to the Hammerby defence, Hammerby were only 1-nil up when Mia was tracking back helping defend, she could hear Irene screaming for her to stay on her feet over and over as they approached the penalty area. Mia made a block any defender would be proud of showing she still had her defence credentials from years gone by. They knew if Hammerby got another in the group game it was surely beyond them to claw this back with so little time left.

“Vamos” Irene nodded clapping her hands at her, she got a pat on the arse as she walked by Irene clearly happy with her as they were gearing to defend the corner.

Panos sent Mia over to try to cut off the short option they went with, the player tried to get the shot off into the box, Mia blocked yet again, spun the player and was off down the pitch just her a lone defender and the keeper for company her speed unmatched she breezed by the defender chipped the keeper. She slowed her run until she stopped in the corner looking up, she fired a kiss up to the sky, “Happy Birthday”

She turned seeing Alexia’s smiling face running towards her, she jumped into her to celebrate Mia holding her one arm before she got down and she was circled by the team, she’d grown to crave the little head taps they seemed to do.

Keira pointed at her as she got to the huddle, then pointed to the sky, “She’s up there, so fucking proud of you” Mia smiled, “She’s getting drunk on her sangria and loving watching her little girl absolutely shine.” Keira put an arm around her neck as they walked back to the restart, “Leah’s here”

“She is?” Mia looked as Keira turned pointing, Mia couldn’t see her right away but soon got a massive smile spotting her friend, she pumped her arms as Leah did the same.

“Is that you?” Leah grinned mouthing, “Is that you?”

Mia laughed firing kisses to the little group of Arsenal girls here.

+

Alexia’s head whipped up when Claudia wolf whistled, “Oh shut up” Mia smiled as she came out the toilets ready to go out with the Arsenal girls and Kiera for drinks, she was a pink leather skirt that came to the middle of her thighs and a long sleeve black see through top where you could see her black bra underneath. Alexia’s breath stopped when she saw her, her lip was dragged in between her teeth as she didn’t even tried to hide the fact she was enjoying what she was seeing.

“Who you getting all dressed up for?”

“Kiera” Mia went to her cubby, “Keira!” She hollered, “Will you hurry up! We’re late already!”

“I’m coming” Kiera came out and Claudia did the same to Kiera that she did to Mia

“See” Mia turned, “I thought i was special” Claudia just smiled, Mia answered her phone, “Hello.. yeah you’re fine to wait there we’ll be 2 minutes, ok bye”

Mia was tidying her space when she out the corner of her eye caught Alexia check her out, “Having a good ol’ look there Putellas?” Mia smiled moving her eyes to Alexia’s her mouth opening in a smile

“Have a nice night” Mia slapped the hand Alexia put to her who closed her fingers around it, “Be safe”

“Would you like me to text you periodically that I’m ok?” Alexia laughed before nodding

“If you must”

Alexia’s eyes were different as she looked up at Mia, “I hope you and your skirt have a nice night” she popped a piece of gum in her mouth, Mia rolled her eyes shaking her head when she laughed gently at her, before she left with Keira

The girls came home at half 6 in the morning, they stepped into the already open lift, Mia felt her chest tighten seeing Alexia in her tracksuit hair in a high pony, her eyes lifting from her phone. “Bon dia” Mia moved closer to allow room for the other girls, it didn’t escape Alexia’s attention they all had little smiles on their faces looking at Mia from Alexia.

Keira did introductions as the lift began moving, Alexia nodded mumbled a greeting shaking their hands, they all looked a bit starstruck something Mia didn’t understand, it was just Alexia.

“You’re up early” Mia spoke turning to lean against the side of the lift

Alexia glanced down to Nala, “Nala woke me up to go out” The doors opened and with soft goodbyes the girls all slowly started stepping off Mia felt fingers lace through hers and she made the move to leave, “She’ll catch you up” Alexia spoke squeezing Mia’s hand, the girls all just smiled as Alexia pressed to close the doors and the lift began to move once again.

Mia turned to look at her, Alexia gently tugging her forward, putting her hand out to the side as she didn’t hide the fact she was looking at her outfit. “You like my skirt then?”

“I like you in the skirt” Alexia slipped a hand over her hip when Mia stepped closer to her, the alcohol giving her a little confidence boost, but not as much as feeling Alexia’s approving gaze over her. Mia caressed her hand onto Alexia’s jaw line as she connected their lips, having a silent conversation about intentions. Alexia’s hand jolted Mia’s body forward to press against her as the hand moved to her backside, Alexia felt the smile Mia got as there tongues touched.

The kissing was slow but passionate. They’d never kissed like this before, there wasn’t that palpable feeling like this could continue beyond just kissing. It had been sweet, tender, innocent. This, this set Mia’s body on fire all the nerve endings over her body heightened to every minor touch and movement.

Their lips disconnected millimetres apart when the lift dinged it had reached the 7th floor, Alexia swallowed as much as she wanted this, wanted Mia in her bed more than anything. Her nerves were making her stomach do somersaults, however the anticipation that this may not end here was awakening something inside her that had laid dormant for sometime.

“Do you” Alexia whispered, “Want to come inside?”

Mia nodded ever so slightly, “I’d really like that”

Alexia stood up off the wall of the elevator reconnecting there lips as the hand from Mia’s backside searched again for her hand, there fingers interlocked as there lips parted once again and Alexia led the way even though Mia knew every imperfection of this hall way to Alexia’s front door having been here a number of times now.

Alexia smiled as she dug in her pockets for her keys, Mia cuddling up behind her, Alexia reached behind her to tap Mia’s hip as she shoved the door open, “In you go”

Mia slipped her shoes off as Alexia bent down to take Nala’s lead and harness off, she wandered carefully towards the sofa

“You want anything?” Alexia asked

Mia spun her hands landing on the back of the sofa as she leant back against it, “You”

Alexia stood side on taking her in, her eyes drinking in the sight before her, “What about me do you want exactly” Alexia gently placed the mug she had gotten out thinking Mia would want a cup of tea back onto the countertop, following the steps Mia had previously made

Mia slowly blinked, “I want you to finish what you started in the lift” Alexia let her lips hover close to Mia’s, “If that was an option”

“It’s an option” Alexia pecked her lips, Mia didn’t know where her shy awkward Alexia went but this confident Alexia who seemed to know exactly what she wanted to do was astoundingly attractive to her as her lips went exploring down her neck, a hand brushing up her thigh a breath escaping Mia’s mouth hanging open a moan already threatening to leave her mouth.

Alexia put her hands behind Mia’s knees and lifted her with ease spinning them to head towards the bedroom, Mia cupped her face to kiss her the way her body ground as there lips entwined was involuntary but it served to head them straight back in that space they’d created in the lift.

Mia’s back hit the familiar bed Alexia after the thud of the door being kicked shut behind them, Alexia sliding up her body between her thighs, Mia wildly pulled at Alexia’s hoodie before she finally lifted off Mia to yank it off over her head something going crashing when it got thrown which set Nala off barking from behind the door she was shut behind. Alexia bit her words at Nala to stop the situation leaving Mia giggling, Alexia rest her forehead against Mia’s with a smile.

There movements slowed as there lips reattached and Mia reached to unclasp Alexia’s bra her finger hooking in the front to pull it away from her chest Alexia throwing it in the abyss joining her hoodie on the floor. Alexia was left lying impressed by Mia’s strength when Alexia ended on her back Mia straddling her, her turn for her mouth to go exploring. It explored much lower than Alexia’s neck which got special attention, she had a little nibble before her tongue licking soothed the sting followed by her lips pressing against the spot before they continued on their quest. 

Alexia watched mesmerised by this beautiful woman with her nipple in her mouth and her heart skipped a beat as she kissed just above her waistband of her joggers she purposely connected her eyes with Alexia’s. “Amor, me estás volviendo loco” Alexia whispered her head going back, Mia smirked as she started tugging at the two layers covering Alexia’s bottom half, Alexia lifted and sat up to help rid herself of her layers. There lips reconnecting pushed Mia back onto her back just the first struggle of dominance in this first encounter. Mia was lost in Alexia’s word spoken to her in Spanish as she was being undressed her senses going over into over drive, she believed every word said to her. There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t believe Alexia when she told her she was the most beautiful woman in her eyes. It wasn’t because she was big headed or had a high opinion of herself. The way Alexia kissed caressed took in her body, that made her believe. You couldn’t have someone look at your body the way Alexia did and pay attention to every little detail and not believe her words.

+

Mia lay on her stomach smiling at Alexia holding her gaze, she pressed the sweetest kiss on her forehead, “Bet you’re friends are wondering where you’ve got to” Alexia’s thumb grazed over her cheek

“I don’t really care” she spoke just as hushed as Alexia did enjoying the way Alexia’s finger tips were grazing up and down her back, “But, I probably should go, they did come all this way to see me”

Alexia nodded completely understanding, “I’ll get you something to wear” with a soft peck Alexia slipped out the bed she routed through the wardrobe pulling on a tee on of her own before pulling out a shirt and some shorts, she turned Mia was sat on the edge of the bed just having got her underwear back on. “Here”

Looking over her shoulder Mias lips spread into a smile, “Really?” Alexia smiled, “You’re giving me your Spain shirt”

“You can wear it when you come to watch me play next week” Mia didn’t answer right away, “You’ll come right?”

Mia nodded as she took the clothes, “I’ll have to sort some things but of course I will, Is Alba going?” Alexia nodded, “Ok”

Mia opened the door after pulling the shirt down over her self, “Hello Nala” Mia smiled as the pup excitedly followed her through the apartment, she collected the heals she was not putting back on. She refused. They were so uncomfortable.

Alexia hand came to her stomach pulling her back into her, her arms wrapping around her, “I’ll see you in training tomorrow then?” Mia nodded turning in her arms

“I’m not sure how I’m going to keep my hands off you” Alexia laughed gently, she kissed her cheek as she handed over the clothes Mia had arrived in. They kissed a few more times before Mia finally peeled herself out of Alexia’s grip who stood back against the door frame as Mia waited for the lift. Alexia lifted her hand to her going inside as Mia stepped in the lift.

Mia could not keep the smile off her face biting her own lip wouldn’t even stop it, she paused outside Keiras door before turning the handle and letting herself in. “What time do you call this?” Beth hollered from the sofa, the other three no where in sight, “You’ve been gone hours” Beth rose her eyes from her phone, she saw Mia in her state and her mouth dropped, instantly knowing the cause. Beth began laughing, “You never” Beth got to her feet to kneel on the sofa opposite her to get a better look at Mia. “Oh my god!” Beth exclaimed

“What?” Keira exclaimed showing Leah and Steph something in her room Beth had no interest in so couldn’t even remember what it was.

Beth moved around the sofa going down the hall still laughing in disbelief getting to the door, “You have to come see this” All three sets of brows creased in unison, “Someone has finally arrived back.. I think the outfit achieved what she wanted it to”

“No” Leah drew out the word rushing out the bedroom, “Oh come on, you’re not even trying to hide it”

Mia flopped onto the sofa, “I couldn’t give a fuck what you bitches have to say, I’ve just had the best sex of my life”

[peonysgreenhouse]

-`♡´- lost signal.

summary: welt finds himself unable to contact you after your departure for amphoreus. (gn!reader x welt yang; astral express found family)

tags: 1.2k words, established relationship, fake texts, astral express family, fluff and longing, spoilers for 3.0's main quest!

“You’re worried.”

Even Himeko’s voice does little to turn his head from the window, watching as the Parlor Car trails off and away through the stars towards Amphoreus. Out of sight, out of Welt’s reach – he was never good at stepping back and letting things be. He has to keep himself from pressing his hand to the glass, from tracing his finger along each and every fleck of light you pass, as if you could somehow feel him there with you.

“Am I that obvious?” Welt asks, adjusting his glasses. He feels Himeko’s dress brush over his shoes, and still he cannot bring himself to tear his gaze away for even a second; even as the car disappears from view as it enters into Amphoreus’s orbit.

“I’m sure everything will go smoothly. You know how capable they all are.” Himeko reassures. 

Welt lets out a weary sigh. Of course knows that. You, Stelle, and Dan Heng made a formidable team. Still, the worry persists, gnawing like moths at an old dressing gown. 

“You are correct.” Welt starts, sighing again as his eyes flick to her momentarily, before looking back out the window. The stillness in the Express is disquieting; it seemed less of a home without all the noise. “But still, I worry anyways.”

Himeko gives him a knowing smile. “I’m sure you’ll hear from them soon.” She says, turning to walk back towards the door. “In the meantime, would you help me make dinner for March? She still isn’t feeling well.”

Welt softens at that, finally forcing himself to look away. He assures himself that you all would be okay, and hopes that is enough. “Of course.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Welt has done the math over and over again. He knows this planet is uncharted, but they knew the distance to the landing site, knew how strong the planet’s gravitational pull was... If things went perfectly, you all should have docked three hours ago. 

You had promised that you’d text him once you successfully made it planet-side. He rests on one of the couches in the main car, one hand resting on his cane, the other holding his phone. 

Perhaps he’s acting like a besotted old man… and a hovering parent to Stelle and Dan Heng. But still, he finds his hands itching to type out a message to check in. And so, he does:

He tries to rationalize the response (or, lack thereof) before the tide of worry can wash over him once again. It wouldn’t be surprising if it were just Stelle’s phone that had no connection – but you and Dan Heng? Neither of you would let that happen, especially at the beginning of an Expedition.

Perhaps signal didn’t reach Amphoreus. It would be the most logical answer – it was out of sight to all but the Memokeepers. Besides that, he can't help but think it's possible that you all could’ve crash landed...

Welt stands, and goes to wake Sunday.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You lean out the balcony of the private baths, your hand stretching upwards to the sky, phone in hand, as if you could reach up far enough to hand the messages to Welt. 

“That’s not how it works.” Dan Heng says, one hand behind his head as he relaxes in one of the lounge chairs. He’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, a quarter of his attention diverted from his book to make sure you don’t lose your balance and fall.

You hate that he’s right. This is all an exercise in futility, but still, it doesn't hurt to try. You hop up on the railing, carefully sitting yourself on the ledge of the balcony, stretching just a few more inches forward. Dan Heng pays a bit more attention to you.

“Dan Heng’s right.” Stelle interjects, her long silvery hair gliding on the surface of the water in the bath, sprawled out as if she had not a care in the world. “You need much longer arms.”

You huff, looking at the ‘No Signal’ message that hasn’t budged from the top of your phone’s screen since you crash landed in Amphoreus. You wish there was something you could do to reassure Welt that you would all be okay.

You imagine he’ll have a few more grey hairs when you see him next.

“You should get down from there.” Comes Dan Heng’s voice, closing the book he was skimming through. “I would prefer not to have to tell Mr. Yang that you fell to your death.”

You hear Stelle snicker, and it’s then you hop down off the railing, realizing you are supposed to be the mature one here. You turn your phone off, then go to sit on one of the empty lounge chairs, listening to the water flow as it pours into the bath. 

Welt would like it here, you think. After everything he’s done for you, for you all, he deserves a nice, warm bath. Perhaps once you've restored contact with the Express, you could convince him to relax, if for a little while.

You let that thought carry you into a fitful sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

In your absence, Welt spends the days with Sunday, exhausting their combined contacts to try and regain communication with you all. Each day seems to drag on, and yet he never finds enough hours to do all that he needs to do to ensure your safety. 

He should’ve just joined the Expedition… Welt hated, more than anything, not knowing; questions with too many variables to act on all at once. Especially when it involved those he cared about. 

Some of your things had been left in his room; he doesn’t have the heart to move them. A half-empty cup of tea that had long gone cold, the shape of your lips outlined in chapstick around the rim. The hotel key from your room in Penacony, sandwiched between one of his books you were borrowing; a makeshift bookmark that would no doubt end up damaging the binding. A picture of you, him, and Himeko taken in the jazz bar at the Reverie. Your hand is slung around their shoulders, and you’re winking at the camera, only slightly tipsy. The memory makes him warm with longing.

He sends another few texts your way, knowing they will not reach you. Still, it is nice to think of what he might say to you if he could.

At night, he sits in March’s room, watching to make sure her condition doesn’t worsen. The cold of the six-phased ice bites even through his overcoat.

Welt folds his hands in his lap, closing his eyes for a momentary rest. Come tomorrow they would go to the Space Station to search for answers; but for now, he would be present for March. It was all he could do.

[someonegoood]

THE CORPORATE EQUATION chapter 3 ✫ jeon jungkook

an unexpected system crash puts sensitive employee and client data at risk. The crisis demands immediate action, forcing Jungkook and you to work together overnight.

CONTAINS: corporate!au, ceo!jk, headofhr!reader, grumpy x sunshine, slow burn, accidental vulnerability, mutual pining, emotionally unavailable jk, bickering turned bonding, fluff & angst :)

NOTE: this will be a mini series. thanks so much for reading!! this work is not revised and english is not my first language :)

miiini taglist @haru-jiminn @parapiop7 @radcustoms @minniejim @jeonzll @vantelover1306 @bgfdcvbnjk @mar-lo-pap @lmaothv @jksusawife <3

my main masterlist! ❀ the corporate equation masterlist!

The day began with the usual rush of the office, but a text from your mom disrupted your focus: “We’re leaving today! Don’t forget to take us to the airport!” A wave of guilt hit you. Between your workload and stress, you’d almost forgotten about their trip to Paris.

You hurried home after work, greeted by the familiar chaos of your parents’ last-minute packing. Your dad was stuffing maps and snacks into his carry-on while your mom ran through her checklist for the third time. Hyunjin, your brother, was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone, waiting for the inevitable cry of, “We’re late!”

Once the bags were loaded into the car, you piled in, squeezing into the backseat next to Hyunjin. The drive to the airport was filled with chatter about their plans. Your mom gushed about the landmarks she wanted to visit, while your dad rambled on about the history of the city they’d see.

At the airport, the goodbye was bittersweet. You hugged your parents tightly, promising to check in with them regularly. Your mom gave you a knowing smile, saying, “Don’t overwork yourself, and… maybe go on a date while we’re gone.” You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

As you watched them walk toward security, your eyes drifted across the bustling terminal. That’s when you saw him—Jungkook.

He stood a few gates down, dressed sharply as always, his posture exuding the same effortless confidence that made him such a formidable CEO. But it wasn’t just him. Beside him was a woman, tall and strikingly beautiful. She leaned close as they talked, her hand lightly brushing his arm. Then she laughed—a warm, effortless laugh that made your chest tighten.

You froze. She was everything you weren’t: tall, slender, dressed in designer clothes, her aura polished and magnetic. You couldn’t hear their conversation, but the familiarity between them was clear. A pang of insecurity struck you, and you quickly looked away.

Back in the car with Hyunjin, you were unusually quiet. When he asked what was wrong, you shook your head and mumbled,

“Nothing. Just tired.” But the image of Jungkook and that woman lingered in your mind.

“Alright, spill. You’re quieter than usual, and that’s saying something.” Breaking the silence, your brother spoke while driving. “Let me guess, you saw him at the airport,” Hyunjin said, leaning back against. His casual tone didn’t hide the sharpness in his gaze.

You crossed your arms, looking out the window. “You guessed right.”

Wait he does he know-

“Don't look so astonished. You're the one talking about your boss over dinner. And let me also guess—he wasn’t alone,” Hyunjin added, his voice almost sing-song.

You groaned. “Oh my god, can you not?”

“Hey, just connecting the dots,” he said, shrugging. “Who was she? His new assistant? A business partner? Or, ooh, maybe his fiancée?”

“She didn’t look like an assistant or a business partner,” you muttered. “She looked… perfect. Gorgeous, polished, like she walked off the cover of some luxury magazine.”

Hyunjin turned to look at you fully, an incredulous smile spreading across his face. “And? You’re intimidated by that? Please. She’s probably boring. I mean, do you think she knows how to annihilate someone at Mario Kart or eat an entire pizza in one sitting? No. But you do.”

You snorted despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

The next day, your lingering unease over the airport encounter was overshadowed by a sudden, other catastrophic event: the company’s system had crashed. Alarms blared as employees scrambled to respond. Sensitive employee and client data was at risk, and chaos spread through the office like wildfire.

Jungkook quickly called an emergency meeting. His voice was sharp and steady as he outlined the severity of the situation. “This is a critical breach,” he said, his gaze sweeping across the room. “We need solutions, not panic. Let’s move.”

The HR and IT teams sprang into action. Amid the chaos, you stepped forward, rallying the IT team with a calm authority that surprised even yourself. While others panicked, you assigned tasks, kept communication clear, and ensured everyone stayed on track.

Soojin leaned toward you, whispering, “Does he always sound this intense during emergencies?”

“Every time,” you replied, grabbing your notebook.

Minho shot a quick glance at Jungkook, then at you. “You okay? You’ve been kind of… off since yesterday.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

Dohyun, chimed in nervously, “We need to focus. Who’s handling the communication with employees?”

“That’s us,” you said, your voice firm as you scanned the room. “Minji, can you coordinate updates for the staff? Soojin, take point on compiling affected accounts. Minho, work with IT to get an incident report drafted ASAP. Dohyun, assist wherever needed.”

As everyone scattered into action, Hajun, Jungkook’s assistant, handed him a tablet with a detailed damage assessment. Jungkook studied it with furrowed brows, his jaw tight.

“You,” he said, looking at you. “Stay. I need HR’s perspective on the recovery plan.” The tension in the room shifted, the others glancing at you briefly before leaving.

The IT team shuffled into the room, armed with laptops and frazzled expressions. Minho and Soojin joined you as you took your seat. Jungkook stood at the head of the table, exuding his usual air of authority.

“What’s the status?” Jungkook asked, his gaze locking onto the IT lead.

“We’re working on isolating the breach, but it’s extensive,” the lead replied. “We estimate at least 40% of the client database has been compromised.”

“Forty percent?” Soojin repeated, her eyes wide.

“We’ll need HR to handle internal communication and keep employees calm,” Jungkook said. His eyes flicked to you. “You’re taking the lead on that.”

You nodded stiffly, keeping your focus on your notes. “Understood.” Minho, ever observant, noticed your distant demeanor and shot you a curious look. Soojin’s gaze darted between you and Jungkook, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

“Any thoughts, Y/N?” Jungkook asked, his tone unusually soft.

You hesitated, then replied, “We’ll draft clear messaging for employees and address concerns about data privacy. But IT needs to prioritize a transparent timeline for system restoration.”

Jungkook’s expression softened, his usual sharp edges momentarily dulled. “That’s a solid plan.”

But you refused to meet his eyes, keeping your attention on the notes in front of you. Minho leaned closer, muttering, “You two good? You’re acting weird.”

You shook your head slightly. “Focus on the task,” you whispered back.

As the team dispersed, Jungkook stopped you by the door.

“Hey” he began, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “You’ve been avoiding me. Did something happen?”

You stepped back, your expression guarded. “Nothing happened. I’m just focused on work.”

Jungkook’s brow furrowed, his voice softening further. “If this is about—”

“Stop,” you interrupted, your voice steady but firm. “This isn’t the time or place. We need to recover our information.”

His jaw tensed, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he nodded. “Alright. But we’re not done with this conversation.”

As you walked away, you could feel the weight of his gaze on your back, and despite everything, a small part of you wished you could turn around.

Your heart clenched, the weight of his tone sinking deep into your chest. It wasn’t just his words—it was the way he said them, like he meant more than he let on. Like he wasn’t just talking about the system crash or the meeting but something far more personal.

But you didn’t turn around. You couldn’t. If you did, you knew the resolve you’d been clinging to would crumble. Instead, you tightened your grip on your notebook and quickened your pace, willing the knot in your chest to unravel.

Hours passed, the office growing quieter as the chaos from the crash simmered down. Sometime past midnight, you found yourself in the break room, clutching a cup of lukewarm coffee, trying to steady the exhaustion settling in your bones. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the door open.

“Late night?” Mr. Jeon's voice broke through the silence, low and familiar. You looked up, surprised to see him standing in the doorway. His tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and his posture was just as worn as yours. The CEO façade was gone, replaced with the same exhaustion you were feeling.

“I didn’t think you were the type to stay this late,” you teased, though there was a hint of tenderness in your voice.

He chuckled softly, stepping into the room. “I have my moments. Though, I’d rather not be stuck in a room full of data breaches and alarms.” He poured himself a coffee, his gaze flicking to you. “You handled that well earlier. Really well.”

You shrugged, pretending it wasn’t a big deal. “Just doing my job,” you said, but the warmth in his eyes made you feel like you’d done more than that.

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “No, really. You kept everyone grounded. You didn’t let the panic take over. That’s not easy, not with the pressure of everything falling apart.”

The compliment hung in the air between you, more genuine than anything you’d heard from him before. The distance that had always lingered, the formality of CEO and employee, seemed to dissolve in the quiet of the break room.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, silent, just existing in the stillness that had settled around you. The soft hum of the office at night and the distant clicking of keyboards felt like background noise to the tension building between you.

Then, emboldened by exhaustion, by the raw honesty of the moment, you asked the question that had been gnawing at you since the airport.

"Do you… have a girlfriend?"

The question hung in the air, too personal, too direct. You instantly regretted it, the unease creeping back into your chest. Jungkook’s eyes widened for a second, but to his credit, he didn’t seem offended. He paused, processing your question.

“We’ve known each other for a long time. It’s… complicated.” He said quietly, his voice softer now.

You swallowed, the knot tightening in your throat. You didn’t know what you’d expected, but his answer seemed to hold more weight than you were prepared for. The air between you shifted, becoming heavy with the questions you wanted to ask but couldn’t. You wanted to know more, but you didn’t dare. Was the woman in the airport his girlfriend?

"But no, I'm not currently in a relationship." He cleared his throat before taking a seat besides you.

The conversation faded, and soon, the moment passed. You both returned to work, but the quiet lingered between you.

Then, a few hours later, as you leaned over a file, focused on finalizing the details of the recovery plan, you felt something. A soft brush of fingers against your hair, a fleeting touch that made you freeze. Jungkook was standing just behind you, his hand lingering for a second longer than necessary before pulling back.

His fingers had gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the motion so subtle, yet it left a spark that crackled in the space between you. The intensity of the moment hit you both, leaving you frozen. You quickly looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

“Sorry, I just—” Jungkook began, clearing his throat, but you interrupted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“I-I need to focus,” you said, the edge of urgency creeping into your voice. You could feel his gaze still on you, and it made your skin prickle, but you refused to meet his eyes.

Jungkook paused for a moment, the silence between you thickening. “You’re avoiding me again.” His tone was softer now, almost like he was testing the waters.

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to keep your attention on the report in front of you. “I’m not avoiding you. I’m just—” You exhaled sharply, trying to gather your thoughts. “There’s too much to do.”

His gaze didn’t leave you. “Is it really about the work, or is there something else?” Jungkook’s voice dropped a fraction, and you could feel the weight of his words pulling at you.

You stiffened, your heart skipping a beat. “It’s nothing,” you muttered quickly, unwilling to open up. You could feel the pressure building, like you were standing on the edge of something you didn’t want to face.

“You’re lying.” He said it without hesitation, the words cutting through the tension. “I can tell when you’re upset, Y/N. And right now, you’re upset with me.”

You froze, the intensity in his voice making you look up for a split second, only to quickly look away again. "I’m not upset with you," you whispered, but it felt like a lie even as you said it.

He exhaled, the frustration in his eyes barely concealed. “You know, you’re impossible to read sometimes,” he said, voice quiet. “You push everyone away when things get hard.” He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space between you. “I’m not going anywhere, you know. You can talk to me.”

For a moment, you wanted to give in, to tell him everything that had been eating away at you. But the walls you’d built around yourself felt too high, too solid. You bit your lip and shook your head.

“I can handle it,” you replied, barely above a whisper.

Jungkook didn’t answer right away. The air between you two seemed to hang heavy, filled with things unsaid. He lingered, watching you, but then, with a quiet sigh, he backed off. "Fine. But don't think I'm going to let this go." His voice was softer now, almost resigned.

You kept your head down, not daring to look at him. The silence that followed was thick and heavy, but somehow, the space between you felt even larger than before.

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the night, the air heavy with unspoken things. But that fleeting touch had shattered something, leaving the two of you unable to ignore the charge in the room.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed both of you. You found yourself drifting into sleep at your desk, your head resting on your arms. The crisis had worn you down, and with everything that had happened, you couldn’t fight it anymore. The office was quieter now, the faint hum of computers and the distant tapping of keyboards the only sound in the dimly lit space.

Jungkook, still at working besides you, glanced up from his work, his gaze softening when he noticed you. He’d caught glimpses of your tired eyes earlier, the strain in your posture, but he hadn’t said anything. Now, watching you, he saw how utterly spent you were.

The air was thick with a quiet calm, and Jungkook hesitated for a moment. He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the crisis that had brought you together, or something more, but he found himself standing up and walking toward you.

Gently, he placed his blazer over your shoulders, his movements careful so as not to wake you. The touch was almost instinctual, a quiet, unspoken gesture of care. His fingers brushed the back of your chair as he adjusted the fabric, and for a moment, he lingered there, his eyes studying the peacefulness of your sleep.

"What I am going to do with you?" He said out loud.

It was only after another few minutes that he finally sat back down at his desk, stealing one last glance at you. The weight of the night seemed to settle between the two of you, unspoken but tangible, as if the events of the last few hours had somehow shifted things.

And despite the exhaustion pulling at him, Jungkook found his own eyelids growing heavy. He hadn’t expected to fall asleep, not with everything still to be done, but as the minutes passed, he felt himself giving in to the pull of sleep. His head dipped slightly, and soon, he too had succumbed to the overwhelming weariness of the night.

previous / next

[crossfandomskylines]

In the Space Between: Chapter 24

OTHER CHAPTERS:

Chapter 1 I Chapter 2 I Chapter 3 I Chapter 4 I Chapter 5

Chapter 6 I Chapter 7 I Chapter 8 I Chapter 9 I Chapter 10

Chapter 11 I Chapter 12 I Chapter 13 I Chapter 14 I Chapter 15

Chapter 16 I Chapter 17 I Chapter 18 I Chapter 19 I Chapter 20

Chapter 21 I Chapter 22 I Chapter 23

Pairing: Glen Powell x OC

Summary: Glen and Gabby navigate their time apart as best they can, but both are struggling as the distance feels bigger this time after Glen's surprise visit.

Word Count: 1.9k (Shorter filler chapter here, next one will be longer!)

A/N: As always please let me know what you think with Hearts, Comments, and Reblogs. I love seeing your thoughts on this story as it progresses!

GABBY’S P.OV.

Gabby adjusted the strap of her backpack as she climbed the stairs to her apartment, the familiar creak of the steps filling the quiet evening air. Another day, another lecture, another stack of notes to review. Her routine hadn’t changed much since Glen left—it was all as predictable as it had been before. But now, everything felt heavier, quieter, and somehow incomplete.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, greeted by the emptiness of her apartment. The silence seemed to press against her ears as she flicked on the lights, illuminating the small but cozy space. Glen, and by extension Brisket’s absence hit her immediately, as it always did. The apartment felt far too still without the soft padding of his paws or the way both of them would sprawl out on the couch.

Gabby tossed her keys into the bowl by the door and set her bag down with a sigh. The weight of her day lingered, but it wasn’t the tests or lectures that drained her. It was the moments like this—the coming home to an empty apartment, the absence of Glen’s laugh filling the space, the quiet reminder that he was 2,100 miles away.

She moved to the couch and sank into the cushions, pulling one of Glen’s hoodies off the armrest. It still smelled faintly of him, a mix of his cologne and whatever laundry detergent he used. She pulled it over her head, letting the fabric swallow her as she curled her legs beneath her.

Gabby thought she’d gotten used to the long stretches of time without Glen during his filming schedules. She’d done it before, distracting herself with school, friends, and the occasional weekend shifts at the coffee shop around the corner where she had started working part time. 

But this time was different. This time, she’d had a taste of what it was like to have him close—those stolen thirty-six hours together, sharing takeout on the couch, and waking up to find him next to her. Sometimes she thinks it would have been easier if he hadn’t surprised her. But then she also couldn’t find it within herself to regret his visit.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, snapping her out of her thoughts. Gabby reached for it, smiling faintly at the notification. A text from Glen.

Glen: Hey, babe. Just wrapped for the day. You still awake?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a warmth spreading through her chest. He always made time to check in, no matter how long or grueling his day had been.

Gabby: Always for you. How’s my favorite actor holding up?

The reply came almost instantly.

Glen: Tired. Miss you like crazy. How’s school? Brisket says hi.

She laughed softly, picturing Brisket trotting around the set like he owned the place.

Gabby: School’s fine. Same old, same old. Missing you like crazy too. Give Brisket a hug from me.

The conversation continued, filling the emptiness of her apartment with his presence, even if it was just through words on a screen. But as much as she loved these moments, they always left her wanting more. She wanted to hear his voice, to feel his arms around her, to have him here—not just in texts and late-night calls but in the little moments.

Gabby pulled her knees to her chest, staring at the phone long after their conversation ended. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t dwell on the distance, that she’d focus on her own life while Glen was away. But tonight, like so many others, she found herself wishing the weeks would pass faster, that somehow she could fast-forward to the moment when he’d walk through her door again.

She shook her head, forcing herself to stand. There was no use wallowing, not when there was a stack of notes waiting for her and a paper due by the end of the week.

GLEN’S P.OV.

Glen leaned back in the folding chair, exhaustion settling into his bones as the crew bustled around him. The lights above the set were dimmed now, signaling the end of another grueling day. His call time was at 6 a.m., and it was already nearing midnight, but he wasn’t in a rush to leave. The empty stillness of his rented apartment wasn’t exactly inviting.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, the screen lighting up to reveal his favorite photo of Gabby as his lock screen—her sitting cross-legged on his couch, wearing one of his oversized shirts with a mug of coffee cradled in her hands, her laugh mid-sound. Just looking at it made something in his chest ache.

Glen unlocked his phone and scrolled through his camera roll, landing on a selfie they’d taken the day before he left. Gabby had kissed his cheek just as he’d snapped it, and his grin in the photo was as wide as hers. He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. She always managed to bring that out of him, even when she wasn’t trying.

His thumb hovered over the screen before he tapped into their text thread.

Glen: Wrapped for the day. Coffee here sucks. What’s your go-to order again?

He stared at the message for a moment, debating whether to send it. It wasn’t like he didn’t know Gabby’s order—he could probably recite it in his sleep. But these little conversations, no matter how mundane, made him feel closer to her. He pressed send and locked the phone, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Hey, Glen,” a crew member called, walking past with a clipboard. “We’re set to pick up tomorrow morning where we left off.” He nodded absently, offering a quick “Thanks.” 

Tomorrow morning felt too close already, but at least the work kept his mind occupied. Most days, he barely had time to eat between scenes, much less dwell on how much he missed Gabby. But it was in the quiet moments—like now, when the set was emptying out and the adrenaline of the day began to fade—that the longing crept in.

His phone buzzed in his hand, pulling his attention back.

Gabby: You know my order. But since you forgot: iced chai latte, add vanilla, with oat milk. ;)”

He chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair.

Glen: I didn’t forget. Just wanted to talk to you. Miss you, babe.

Gabby: Miss you, too. Get some rest, okay? You’ve been working so hard.

Rest. The word felt foreign lately. Between the pressure of nailing his scenes, the long hours on set, and the constant buzz of the production schedule, sleep had become an afterthought. And yet, every free moment he had, he spent thinking about Gabby—texting her, scrolling through pictures, wishing she was here to keep him grounded.

He pocketed his phone and stood, stretching out the stiffness in his shoulders. A few crew members lingered nearby, chatting quietly as they packed up the last of the equipment. Glen gave them a small wave as he headed out, his mind already wandering back to her.

Five weeks. That’s how long they had to be apart. It sounded manageable when they discussed it, but now, each day felt like an uphill climb. He thought back to her voice on the phone last night, soft and warm, grounding him even through the static. She had a way of making everything feel easier, even when she wasn’t physically there.

Glen stepped into the cool Atlanta night and pulled his jacket tighter around him. As he walked to the car waiting to take him back to his apartment, he found himself pulling his phone out again, snapping a quick photo of the empty street in front of him.

Glen: Midnight walks in ATL. Wish you were here.

GABBY’S P.OV.

The third day without a call from Glen left Gabby feeling restless. She tried to keep herself busy—pouring over class readings, taking extra shifts at the coffee shop—but nothing distracted her from the gnawing sense that something was wrong. Glen’s texts had been short and sporadic, his usual humor and warmth absent. She missed the sound of his voice, the way he always managed to make her laugh no matter how stressful her day had been.

She glanced at the clock on her bedside table: 9:15 PM. It was later than usual, and her phone sat silent on the pillow beside her. Gabby sighed, pulling her knees up to her chest as she scrolled mindlessly through her messages with Glen, rereading the playful exchanges from last week right after he left.

It had only been ten days since he’d left. So why did it feel like it had been weeks or even months. 

Her phone buzzed suddenly, and she nearly dropped it in her haste to answer.

“Hey,” Glen’s voice came through, low and tired.

“Hey,” she said softly, sitting up straighter. “I was starting to think you forgot about me.”

“Never,” he murmured, though his usual playfulness wasn’t there. “I’m sorry I haven’t called. It’s been...a rough couple of days.”

Gabby’s heart sank. “What’s going on?”

He sighed heavily, the sound tugging at her chest. “It’s just one of those days. Or weeks, I guess. We’re trying to get this big scene right, but it’s not coming together. The director’s frustrated, the cast is tense, and I keep feeling like I’m the problem. Like I’m not delivering.”

“You’re not the problem, Glen,” Gabby said firmly, wishing she could reach through the phone and pull him into a hug.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice thick with frustration. “I feel like I can’t get out of my own head. Every time I think I’ve nailed it, someone has a note, or the timing’s off, or the camera angle needs to change. It’s just...exhausting.”

Gabby’s chest tightened. She could hear how much this was weighing on him, and the fact that she couldn’t physically be there for him made her feel helpless. “I wish there was something I could do,” she said quietly.

“You’re doing it,” he replied, his voice softening just slightly. “Just talking to you helps.”

They talked for a few more minutes, but Glen’s exhaustion was evident. When they hung up, Gabby felt the emptiness of her apartment settle over her again. She lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind racing.

As the minutes ticked by, an idea began to form. She grabbed her phone and opened her browser, typing in “flights to Atlanta.” A list of options filled the screen, and she scrolled through them, her heart beating faster at the possibility.

A weekend visit. She could pull it off. She had some savings set aside, and she could shuffle her schedule around to make it work. But doubt began to creep in as quickly as the excitement had.

What if his schedule was too packed for them to spend real time together? What if showing up unannounced only added to his stress? What if...

Gabby shook her head, trying to quiet the voice of uncertainty. She clicked on a flight option and checked the details. The timing worked perfectly—she could fly out Friday evening and return Sunday night.

Her thumb hovered over the “Book Now” button, but she hesitated, her thoughts spinning. She needed help to make this work, someone who could coordinate with Glen’s schedule without tipping him off.

And she knew exactly who to call. Someone who she knew was already trying to plan a visit to Glen on set.

Gabby scrolled to Glen's sister, Lauren’s number and hit dial.

[yolobloggers]

Forever After Goodbye (II)

~Summary: The reader has taken some off to mend her heart and move on. What she didn’t plan was falling in love and finding her happily ever after with the powerful original, Elijah Mikaelson.

~A/N: Dear Readers,

Wow, long time. Thank you for patiently waiting for the second part of the The Last Goodbye. As promised, I opted for two alternative endings; one where the reader ends up with Klaus and other other where the reader ends up with Elijah. Elena is not the main lead, I do not have anything against her, its just for the plot. Your feedback is always welcome! Happy Reading xx

~You can refresh on the story here:

The Last Goodbye

Forever After Goodbye (I) - Klaus Mikaelson

~Characters and Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader, Damon Salvatore x Reader(Platonic), The Mystic Gang and The Mikaelsons

~Warning: Swearing.

~Third Person POV:

“FUCK!” Y/N exclaimed, her forehead meeting the steering wheel with a dull thud. Her mind felt like it had split in two—one half applauded her for finally choosing herself, for walking away from the chaos that had consumed her life. The other half screamed at her to call everyone back, to reassure them, to slip back into the role of the ever-dependable, ever-sacrificing Ms. Goody Good.

She leaned back in her seat, staring at the dashboard, and exhaled sharply. Why am I like this? she wondered. Was this an ingrained habit or the psychological fallout of years spent bearing everyone else’s burdens? Shaking off the thought, she forced herself upright and took a long, steadying breath.

The vibrant energy of New Orleans surrounded her—the French Quarter buzzed with life, its colorful streets alive with the soulful wail of jazz, the clinking of glasses, and the allure of trinkets sold at eclectic shops. A faint smile tugged at her lips. For a moment, she allowed herself to lean into the part of her subconscious that patted her on the back. She’d done it. She’d taken a step toward herself.

But the path forward wasn’t easy. She had years of grief to unravel, years of pushing down her pain. Since her parents’ untimely death, Y/N had been in survival mode. She had attended their funeral while shouldering her brother Jeremy’s grief, navigated the endless drama the Salvatores brought into her life, and even let herself fall for one of them—a choice she now regretted deeply. She’d lost so many people along the way, but worst of all, she’d lost herself.

Yet, before she could truly embrace this second chance, there were two things she needed to do: call Jeremy and find Elijah.

Digging through her tote bag, she found her phone, which she had turned off the moment she fled Mystic Falls. With a sigh, she powered it back on, bracing herself for the barrage of missed calls and texts. The notifications flooded in, her screen lighting up with names that once brought her comfort but now only stirred frustration.

Her thumb hovered over Damon’s name as she read his text.

Damon:Y/N, come back home. Everyone is freaking out… Elena is all over the place. She’s very upset. We’ll figure something out. Come home.

A scoff escaped her lips. “Fuck you, D,” she muttered under her breath before hitting speed dial for Jeremy. The phone rang only a couple of times before his worried voice came through.

“Y/N!” Jeremy exclaimed, the relief and panic clear in his tone. “Where the hell have you been? Are you okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?!”

“Hey, J-bear,” she said softly, her voice calm despite her racing heart.

“What the fuck, Y/N/N? I’ve been losing my mind! Where are you? Are you safe?” he ranted.

“J... J, stop,” she interrupted gently but firmly. “Let me talk. Please.”

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Are you alone?”

“No,” he replied hesitantly. “Bonnie, Caroline, and Stefan are here.”

Of course, she thought, biting back a groan. “Fine,” she said, resigning herself to the lack of privacy. “I’ll just get it over with. Look, I’m fine. I needed to leave Mystic Falls, J. I know the timing isn’t ideal, but I had to do this. I need space—from everyone and everything.”

“Everyone?” Jeremy’s voice held a note of hurt.

“Not you, J,” Y/N said quickly, her tone softening. “I love you, and I need you to understand. Please, respect my decision.”

There was a pause on the other end, and Y/N could picture Jeremy processing her words, torn between his protective instincts and his love for her. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter. “I love you too, sis. Just... take care of yourself, okay? And keep me updated. I can’t lose you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she whispered, “Thank you, J. Take care of yourself too.”

She could hear the commotion in the background—the gasps and hurried whispers of the Mystic gang—but she didn’t care. For once, their opinions didn’t matter.

She ended the call, leaned back in her seat, and glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She looked like a mess. Her lavender silk dress—picked out by the bride—was wrinkled, her makeup was smudged, and her hair was dishevelled.

“Jeez,” she muttered, grabbing a makeup wipe from her bag. “I’m not going on an Elijah hunt looking like this.”

Once she had tidied herself up, she stepped out of the car and surveyed her surroundings. The memory of her last meeting with Elijah played in her mind—the feel of his arms around her waist, his warm hand brushing her cheek as he whispered promises of loyalty and love. It had been her lifeline then, and it was her guiding star now.

She adjusted her handbag on her shoulder, took a deep breath, and started walking through the French Quarter. The lively streets were packed with people, but Y/N’s focus remained on the task at hand. She passed by charming cafés and quaint shops, mentally noting which ones she’d revisit when she had more time.

Eventually, she found herself at Rousseau’s, a cosy bar that seemed to hum with history. Sliding onto a stool, she caught the bartender’s eye.

“Whiskey on the rocks, please,” she said, flashing a polite smile.

As she waited for her drink, she glanced around the bar, scanning the faces of patrons. Part of her wanted to call Elijah—just a quick call, and he’d be there—but something held her back. She needed a sign, an organic moment to confirm that she was doing the right thing.

The city buzzed around her, full of possibilities. Y/N wasn’t sure what the future held, but for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was moving toward something good—toward someone who had always been her safe haven.

When the bartender set her drink down, she took a sip and let the burn calm her nerves. As her fingers toyed with the trinkets she had bought earlier, she whispered softly to herself, “Where are you, Elijah?”

She knew better than to mention the name “Mikaelson” here. She could tell that there were other supernatural beings here. Gulping her drink, she picked over on her search for the man in the suit. 

“Y/N...” The voice reached her through the din of the crowded bar, cutting through the noise like a melody she could never forget. She turned on her barstool, her heart thundering as her eyes met Elijah’s.

Without thinking, she leaped into his arms, tears spilling down her cheeks. She buried her face against his shoulder, clinging to him as though he were her lifeline. “Y/N, are you all right? Why are you crying?” Elijah’s voice was laced with concern as one arm wrapped securely around her waist while the other cradled her head gently.

“I missed you,” she whispered, her words muffled against him.

Elijah pulled back slightly, his hands coming to rest on her cheeks as he examined her face with a mixture of worry and tenderness. His touch was featherlight, but his gaze held depth—confusion, concern, and something Y/N dared to hope was love.

“My dear,” he murmured, his lips curving into a soft smile. “I missed you too.”

His heart ached at the pain he could see in her, a hurt that seemed to radiate from the depths of her soul. He wanted nothing more than to take it all away. But the hushed whispers and curious stares from the bar’s patrons reminded him that this wasn’t the time or place.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter,” he suggested gently, his hand brushing against hers.

“Okay,” Y/N agreed, grabbing her bag and linking her arm with his.

Elijah opted to walk instead of whisking her to the compound. He could sense her fragility, the delicate state of her emotions. This wasn’t a moment to rush; it was a chance—a rare one—to offer her the safety and space she needed.

As they walked, Y/N began to vent. She spoke about Damon, the wedding she’d run out on, and the weight of disappointment that had been suffocating her. Elijah listened attentively, occasionally offering a quiet word of acknowledgment. His presence was steady, calming, as though grounding her chaotic thoughts.

Eventually, they arrived at a grand, timeless structure. Y/N paused, taking in the elegant details of the house, a masterpiece of New Orleans’ golden era.

“Welcome to the Compound,” Elijah said, his voice warm.

“Lijah, this place is... magnificent,” she breathed, her eyes wide with awe.

She turned to him with a shy smile. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he replied, sincerity evident in his tone.

“Does your offer still stand? Do you still have a place for me here? I’d understand if—”

Elijah’s hands came to rest on her arms, halting her words. “Darling, I’m so sorry...” he began, his voice heavy with guilt.

Y/N’s face fell, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Oh,” she muttered, her voice breaking.

“Please, let me explain,” Elijah said quickly, his grip on her firm yet comforting. “I’m apologising for the pain my family and I have caused you. We were careless, blind to the cost of our actions. But know this—you will always have a place here. I made a promise to you, and it’s one I intend to keep.”

Tears streamed down her face as his words sank in. Overwhelmed by the warmth and belonging he offered so freely, she wrapped her arms around his torso and let herself break down.

Elijah held her tightly, whispering soft reassurances as he carried her to his room. She cried against him for what felt like hours, her emotions finally spilling over. Through it all, Elijah remained patient, a steady anchor in the storm of her grief.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes red and puffy, she looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Lijah. I stained your shirt... And thank you. You don’t owe me an apology. Klaus, maybe, but you? You’ve always looked out for me. Thank you for being here and for letting me stay.”

Elijah cupped her cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. “You never need to apologise, Y/N. You are safe here, always.”

In the following days, Y/N allowed herself to feel, to sit with her thoughts instead of running from them. Elijah, ever mindful of her healing, moved her to his loft outside the city—a tranquil space where she could rebuild her strength.

Some days, she found herself mesmerised by the beauty of the world during their quiet walks. On others, she struggled even to get out of bed, overwhelmed by the weight of her emotions. Elijah never pushed her. On those difficult days, he simply sat beside her, offering his quiet presence.

Healing wasn’t linear, and Elijah understood that. The loft became her sanctuary—a peaceful retreat where she could rediscover herself, bit by bit.

One evening, as Y/N sat on the balcony with a journal in her hands, Elijah approached with a cup of tea. “I thought you might like this,” he said, placing it beside her.

She looked up, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You always seem to know what I need before I do.”

Elijah’s gaze softened as he took the seat next to her. “Sometimes, it’s the smallest comforts that make the biggest difference.”

Her fingers brushed his lightly as she took the tea, her cheeks warming. “Thank you, Elijah. For always being here.”

Over time, her feelings for him deepened, though she hesitated to act on them. She wanted to ensure what she felt was real—not a rebound. Elijah, ever patient, gave her all the time and space she needed.

One morning, Y/N woke to the smell of fresh coffee. She found Elijah in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up as he prepared breakfast.

“You don’t have to do all this for me,” she said, leaning against the doorway.

Elijah turned to her with a playful smirk. “And yet, I enjoy it.”

Her heart fluttered. “Why, Elijah? Why go out of your way for someone like me?”

He set the coffee pot down and approached her, his gaze unwavering. “Because, Y/N, you’re not just ‘someone.’ You’re everything I’ve longed for—a reminder that there’s still light in this world.”

At that moment, Y/N knew. She was undeniably, irrevocably in love with Elijah Mikaelson.

“When can I meet your siblings?” Y/N asked casually as they ate breakfast. “Whenever you’d like, darling. Though may I ask why?” Elijah’s voice was calm, but his curiosity was evident. Y/N shrugged, her tone light. “Because I think I’m ready.” When Elijah didn’t respond immediately, she glanced up from her plate to find him watching her intently, questions swirling in his eyes. “Ready?” he asked, his voice low, as though he was afraid to disturb the moment. Y/N carefully pushed both their plates aside, reaching out to take his hands in hers. “A while back, you and I were dancing in a room full of people, yet I could tell the only person you saw in that room was me. In some ways, I’ve been naive… maybe even disrespectful, Elijah. I knew what you felt for me was more than friendship or pity, but I chose to dwell on my feelings for Damon instead.” She paused, her gaze earnest. “You’ve been nothing but a gentleman to me. You gave me a place to stay, a safe space to heal. That night at the ball, you asked me to let you into my world. Today, I’m asking if I can be part of yours. Your family is your world, Elijah, and I want to be part of it. To stand by you, to care for you, and to love you.” For a moment, silence filled the space between them, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Elijah’s fingers tightened slightly around hers, his usually composed expression softening.

“My dearest Y/N,” he said, his voice almost a whisper, “do you have any idea what those words mean to me?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he gently pressed a finger to her lips, stopping her.

“Please, let me speak,” he continued, his dark eyes searching hers. “From the moment I met you, I have been captivated by your strength, your compassion, and your light. Even when you did not see yourself clearly, I saw you. I saw all of you, and I have waited for the day when you might see me too—not as a noble, not as a Mikaelson, but as a man who loves you beyond reason.” His voice broke slightly at the end, and Y/N felt tears prick her eyes. “I have lived a thousand lifetimes, Y/N,” Elijah said, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, “but none have held meaning until now. To hear you ask to be a part of my world… I cannot tell you how much it humbles me. Yes, my family is my world, but so are you. And there is nothing I desire more than for you to stand by me, to care for me, and to love me, as I have loved you.”

A tear slipped down Y/N’s cheek, and Elijah reached up to gently brush it away. “You are my sanctuary, Y/N,” he whispered. Before she could reply, he leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. It wasn’t rushed or overwhelming—it was a quiet, unspoken promise, filled with all the emotions he had held back for so long. When he pulled away, Y/N smiled through her tears, her heart full. “So… when do I get to meet your siblings?” Elijah chuckled softly, his composure slipping just enough to reveal his joy. “Perhaps we should wait until after breakfast. I’ll need to prepare them—they have a tendency to be… dramatic.” Y/N laughed, and for the first time in a long while, it felt light and free. “Let them be dramatic,” she said, leaning into him. “I’ll take it all if it means being with you.”

Y/N walked confidently through the grand doors of the Mikaelson compound, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. She had asked for this—demanded it, really. If she was going to be part of Elijah’s life, she had to truly step into his world. That meant confronting not only his complicated siblings but also the pieces of her past tied to them.

Elijah walked beside her, his posture as regal as ever, but there was a faint tension in his jaw. “Are you certain about this, Y/N?” he asked, his deep voice tinged with concern. “You know they can be… unpredictable.”

“I’ve dealt with the Mystic Falls gang for years,” Y/N said, her tone dry. “I think I can handle a few Original vampires.”

Elijah’s lips twitched into a small smile, impressed by her composure. “Just remember, you’re under no obligation to win them over. This is about you and me.”

“Yeah, well,” she said, brushing an imaginary speck off her imaginary blazer, “if I’m going to be with you, I need to deal with them. That’s how families work, Elijah. Even the psychotic ones.”

They stepped into the courtyard, where Rebekah, Kol, and Klaus were already gathered. Rebekah sat elegantly at the edge of the fountain, while Kol leaned against a column, tossing an apple in one hand with a devil-may-care grin. Klaus stood nearby, his usual air of dominance radiating from him as he swirled a glass of bourbon.

“Well, well,” Kol drawled, tossing the apple aside as soon as he saw her. “If it isn’t the fiery Gilbert sister. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Kol,” Y/N said, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “Still working on perfecting the art of doing absolutely nothing, I see.”

Kol clutched his chest dramatically. “Oh, she wounds me! Elijah, where did you find such a sharp-tongued treasure?”

“Kol,” Elijah said smoothly, stepping between his brother and Y/N, “perhaps you could save your antics for someone who hasn’t already seen through them.”

Rebekah smirked from her spot by the fountain. “Don’t waste your time, Kol. Y/N’s not like the other doe-eyed girls who swoon at the sight of you. She’s far too clever for that.”

Y/N shot Rebekah a quick smile. “Glad someone noticed.”

Klaus, who had been silently observing, finally spoke, his voice low and cutting. “Cleverness didn’t stop you from being at the mercy of this family before, did it, Y/N?”

Y/N turned to him, her posture straight and unyielding. “No, but it didn’t stop me from surviving, either. Which is more than I can say for some of the messes you’ve created.”

Klaus’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a glint of something darker in his eyes. “Careful, little Gilbert. You’re in my house now.”

“And I’m here by invitation,” Y/N shot back without missing a beat. “Yours, no. But Elijah’s, which matters a hell of a lot more to me.”

Elijah stepped forward, his presence commanding as he placed a hand gently on Y/N’s back. “Enough, Niklaus,” he said firmly. “She’s not here to rehash old grievances. This is about moving forward.”

Klaus looked at his brother for a long moment before shrugging lazily. “Moving forward, is it? How quaint. Well, far be it from me to ruin your little romance.”

Rebekah rolled her eyes. “God, Nik, must you always make everything so unbearable? Honestly, Y/N, I don’t know how you put up with him.”

Y/N smirked. “I tune him out. It’s a skill I picked up growing up with Damon.”

Kol barked out a laugh. “Oh, I like her, Elijah. Are you sure I can’t steal her away?”

Elijah turned his head slightly, fixing Kol with a look so subtle yet piercing that it made Y/N’s heart flutter. “Kol,” he said, his tone deceptively calm, “don’t push me.”

Kol raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave—for now.”

Rebekah stood and linked arms with Y/N, pulling her away from the tension brewing between the brothers. “Come on, Y/N. Let me give you a proper tour of this place. It’s far more interesting than the constant male posturing.”

As Rebekah led Y/N away, Kol called after them, “Don’t let her bore you with her interior design ideas. They’re dreadful.”

Y/N laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “It’s like dealing with toddlers.”

“You’ve no idea,” Rebekah muttered conspiratorially.

Later, in the Drawing Room

The tension from earlier had eased somewhat. Y/N sat with Rebekah on one of the plush sofas, a glass of wine in hand. Kol was lounging nearby, still full of cheeky comments, while Elijah watched her from across the room, his gaze soft and thoughtful.

Klaus, however, remained distant, his eyes flickering to her now and then with suspicion.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Kol said, breaking the silence. “What’s it like being the Gilbert sister who actually has some sense? Must be exhausting.”

Y/N smirked, swirling her wine. “Exhausting, yes. But at least I’m not the Mikaelson sibling known for being expendable.”

Rebekah nearly choked on her drink, and even Elijah’s lips twitched with amusement.

Kol stared at her, stunned for a moment, before bursting into laughter. “Oh, I think I’m in love.”

Elijah cleared his throat, stepping closer to Y/N. “Kol, I believe it’s time you found another pastime.”

Y/N glanced up at Elijah, catching the faintest glimmer of jealousy in his otherwise calm demeanour. She reached out and lightly brushed her fingers against his hand, a silent reassurance.

“I can handle Kol,” she said softly, her eyes meeting his.

“I have no doubt,” Elijah replied, his voice low and filled with warmth.

From across the room, Klaus watched the interaction with narrowed eyes. Despite his usual bravado, he couldn’t ignore the way Y/N seemed to command respect in a way so few ever did.

For Y/N, it wasn’t about winning over the Mikaelsons. It was about proving, to them and herself, that she belonged—not just in their world, but beside Elijah, where she knew she was meant to be.

It had been a week since Y/N decided to immerse herself in Elijah’s world, and despite her initial reservations, she found herself growing more comfortable within the walls of the Mikaelson compound. Time had softened her edges toward some of the siblings. Rebekah had quickly become a confidante, her blunt honesty and fierce loyalty making it easy for Y/N to trust her. Kol was, as always, the mischievous brother, his flirtatious remarks now more playful than irritating. Freya had been a recent addition to their gatherings, and her warm, composed demeanour was a welcome change amidst the usual chaos.

Klaus, however, remained the elephant in the room. Their interactions were minimal and strained at best, laced with underlying hostility. Y/N’s anger at him lingered—after all, this was the man responsible for so much pain in her family’s life: Aunt Jenna’s death, the torment Elena and Jeremy endured, and countless other manipulations that left scars on her soul. Yet, for Elijah’s sake, she kept her sharp words and biting sarcasm in check when Klaus was around. Barely.

Tonight, the group was gathered in one of the compound’s sitting rooms. A fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth mirrored in the laughter filling the room. Rebekah and Kol were bickering over a board game they’d unearthed, while Freya and Y/N were deep in conversation about New Orleans folklore. Elijah sat close to Y/N, his hand resting lightly on the arm of her chair, their closeness speaking volumes without words.

“Honestly, Kol, your strategy is abysmal,” Rebekah huffed, crossing her arms.

“You’re just upset because I’m winning,” Kol retorted with a grin, earning an eye-roll from his sister.

Freya chuckled and leaned toward Y/N. “This is what I endure every day. Welcome to the madness.”

Y/N smirked. “It’s oddly comforting. Like watching Jeremy and Elena argue over the last slice of pizza back home.”

Elijah’s hand brushed against hers subtly, a quiet gesture that made her heart flutter. His silent support was a balm in the chaos, grounding her amidst the whirlwind that was his family.

Unbeknownst to her, Klaus had been watching from the doorway. His sharp eyes caught the way Elijah’s gaze softened when it landed on Y/N, the way she seemed to bring an ease to his usually stoic brother. It wasn’t lost on Klaus how rare it was to see Elijah this content, and it stirred something unfamiliar within him—something almost resembling guilt.

For days, Klaus had avoided addressing the tension between himself and Y/N, stubbornly pretending it didn’t matter. But seeing her here, effortlessly weaving her way into his siblings’ lives, made him realise that she was no passing fancy for Elijah. She was important. And that mattered.

With a sigh, Klaus stepped into the room, his presence immediately commanding attention.

“Ah, Nik,” Kol drawled, tossing a game piece onto the table. “Come to ruin the fun, as always?”

“Not tonight, brother,” Klaus replied smoothly, his eyes fixed on Y/N.

Y/N stiffened under his gaze, her guard instinctively going up. “What? Did I sit in your chair or something?” she quipped, her sarcasm a shield against his unpredictable nature.

Klaus’s lips twitched in faint amusement before he gestured toward the hallway. “A word, if you don’t mind.”

Y/N exchanged a wary glance with Elijah, who gave her a reassuring nod. Rising from her chair, she followed Klaus out of the room, her arms crossed defensively.

They stopped in a quieter part of the compound, the hum of conversation fading behind them. Klaus turned to face her, his usual swagger replaced with an uncharacteristic seriousness.

“I owe you an apology,” he began, his voice low but steady.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “I’m sorry, what? Did I just step into an alternate universe?”

Klaus exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to retort. “I’ve done unspeakable things to your family. To you. And while I can’t undo the past, I can acknowledge the pain I’ve caused.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, searching his face for any hint of deceit. “Why now? Why bother apologising at all?”

“Because,” Klaus said, his tone softening, “you matter to Elijah. And Elijah matters to me. Despite everything, I don’t wish to be the reason you bring him pain.”

For a moment, Y/N was silent, her emotions warring within her. She had every right to hold onto her anger, but she also knew what it meant for someone like Klaus to admit fault.

“Fine,” she said finally, her voice clipped. “I can’t say I forgive you. Not yet. But I can be civil. For Elijah’s sake.”

Klaus nodded, a flicker of respect in his eyes. “That’s all I ask.”

When they returned to the sitting room, the atmosphere shifted. The tension that had lingered between them seemed lighter, replaced by a tentative truce.

Rebekah arched her brow. “Well, that’s new. Did hell freeze over while you two were gone?”

Kol grinned. “Or did Klaus finally learn how to play nice?”

Elijah’s gaze flicked between Y/N and Klaus, a small smile tugging at his lips as he realized what had happened.

Freya leaned toward Y/N, whispering with a grin, “That’s the closest you’ll get to a heartfelt gesture from Niklaus. Congratulations.”

Y/N chuckled softly, leaning back into her chair. For the first time, she felt like she truly belonged—not just to Elijah, but to the family he cherished so deeply.

And that night, even Klaus couldn’t find it in himself to ruin the peace.

Later that night, Y/N stood on the balcony of Elijah’s room in the compound, overlooking the vibrant city of New Orleans. The French Quarter buzzed with life below, but up here, in the serenity of this room, it felt like a world away.

Her fingers trailed absentmindedly over the cool metal of the balcony railing as she lost herself in thought. The events of the past week had been a whirlwind—meeting Elijah’s siblings, finding her footing among them, and even reaching a tentative truce with Klaus. Yet, amidst it all, there was one constant: Elijah.

“Penny for your thoughts, my love?” Elijah’s deep, velvety voice broke through her reverie.

She turned to see him stepping out onto the balcony, his suit jacket abandoned, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up. The sight of him, always so composed yet so effortlessly alluring, made her heart race.

“You’d need a fortune to get through all of them,” she teased, a soft smile gracing her lips.

Elijah stepped closer, his hands resting gently on the railing on either side of her. He leaned in slightly, his presence wrapping around her like a protective cocoon. “Then perhaps I’ll settle for the one that makes you smile like that,” he said, his gaze searching hers.

Y/N laughed softly, leaning into him. “Just thinking about how far we’ve come. How I went from avoiding you at every chance to... this.” She gestured to the space between them, the connection that was now undeniable.

Elijah’s eyes softened, his hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from her face. “And does ‘this’ bring you peace, Y/N? Happiness?”

Her breath hitched at the tenderness in his tone, the way his touch sent shivers down her spine. “More than I ever thought possible,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elijah’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “You mean so much to me.”

He cupped her cheek gently, his thumb brushing against her skin. Y/N leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When she opened them, she found him watching her with a reverence that made her heart ache in the best way.

“You’ve brought light to a life shrouded in centuries of darkness,” he continued, his voice filled with emotion. “You’ve reminded me what it means to hope, to feel, to love. And for that, I am eternally grateful.”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, but she held them back, letting a soft laugh escape instead. “How do you always know the exact thing to say to make me melt, Mr. Mikaelson?”

“Perhaps because you inspire every word,” he replied smoothly, his lips now only a breath away from hers.

Unable to resist any longer, Y/N closed the distance between them, her lips capturing his in a kiss that was both tender and fervent. Elijah responded instantly, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush against him. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in each other.

When they finally parted, both were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“I love you,” Y/N confessed, the words tumbling out before she could second-guess them.

Elijah’s eyes lit up, his expression one of pure joy. “And I, you. More than words can ever convey.”

They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms as the stars began to dot the night sky. In that moment, nothing else mattered—not the dangers of their world, not the complications of their pasts. All that existed was the love they shared, a love that felt timeless and unbreakable.

“You know,” Y/N murmured against his chest, “we’re going to have to deal with your siblings’ endless teasing now.”

Elijah chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Let them tease. As long as I have you by my side, I can endure anything.”

And with that, they stayed on the balcony, basking in the quiet intimacy of the moment, two souls finally finding their home in each other.

The sun was starting to set, painting the sky in hues of gold and pink as Elijah and Y/N walked hand in hand through the lavender field, surrounded by the fragrant flowers that had once been a playground for Elijah and his siblings when they were children. The field was a rare moment of peace for them both, far from the chaos of their supernatural lives.

Y/N gazed at the endless rows of purple, a soft smile on her face. "You know," she said, glancing at Elijah, "this place is beautiful. It's almost as if it holds the memories of your past... and all the times you've been forced to leave them behind."

Elijah squeezed her hand gently, his gaze softening. "It's more than just a place for me. It’s a reminder of simpler times, before our lives were filled with endless complications and heartache. But it’s better now, isn’t it? With you by my side."

Y/N smiled, her heart fluttering at his words. She turned toward him, standing on tiptoe as she kissed his lips, slow and tender. They were both completely in their own world, the lavender scent mingling with the warmth between them.

When they pulled apart, Elijah looked into her eyes, searching, as though seeing her in a new light. "I don't think I've ever been as certain of anything in my life as I am of you."

Y/N chuckled, her thumb brushing over the back of his hand. "That’s a little dramatic, even for you, Elijah Mikaelson," she teased.

Elijah smirked, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "You think so? Because you make me want to be dramatic. You're worth it."

She laughed, her heart full. It was moments like this—just the two of them—that made her forget the tumultuous past and the storm that was always lingering. Elijah pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers.

"Promise me you’ll always be with me," Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I already am," he replied softly, wrapping his arms around her. "And I will be for as long as you’ll have me."

Before they could get lost in each other further, Elijah’s phone rang, interrupting the moment. He glanced at it, his expression turning serious as he looked at the caller ID. Klaus. He dealt with the call. 

"We’ve been summoned to the Salvatore Boarding House. We need to head there. It seems that the Mystic Gang, as you refer to them, have landed themselves in a mess again."

Y/N sighed, her fingers still intertwined with his as she pulled away reluctantly. "Can’t we have just a few more minutes?" she asked, half-joking.

Elijah smiled, though the weight of their responsibilities always lingered. "As much as I would prefer to stay here, I’m afraid we have no choice."

The evening sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the Salvatore Boarding House, casting warm, golden hues over the tension-filled room. The Mystic Gang—Damon and Stefan Salvatore, Bonnie Bennett, Caroline Forbes, and Elena Gilbert—sat scattered across the living room. Their expressions ranged from apprehension to outright frustration as they awaited the arrival of the Mikaelsons.

“They’re late,” Damon muttered, swirling the bourbon in his glass. “Typical.”

“Maybe don’t insult them when they get here,” Bonnie warned. “We need their help, remember?”

Elena sat on the edge of the couch, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap. She hadn’t seen Y/N in months. The memory of their strained last encounter weighed on her, but she was determined to fix things—if Y/N would let her.

Suddenly, the heavy wooden doors swung open, and in stepped Elijah Mikaelson, effortlessly poised in his tailored suit. At his side, hand entwined with his, was Y/N.

The room fell silent.

Y/N looked radiant, her smile soft but confident as she stepped into the space like she belonged there. Her gaze swept over the familiar faces, lingering momentarily on Elena before she looked away. The Mystic Gang, meanwhile, wore expressions ranging from stunned to incredulous.

“Y/N?” Caroline finally broke the silence, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“Surprise,” Y/N said dryly, raising an eyebrow. She gave a small wave, the corners of her lips twitching upward.

Jeremy stood there, eyes lighting up when he saw Y/N.

"Y/N!" Jeremy exclaimed, rushing forward and enveloping her in a bear hug. "I can't believe you're here! It's been way too long."

Y/N laughed softly, hugging him back. "I know, I know. It's been... a lot. But I’m here now."

The warmth and familiarity of her brother’s embrace made her feel grounded, even amidst the chaos. They pulled apart, and Y/N looked him over. "How have you been? Really?"

Jeremy gave her a small, sincere smile. "I've been good. Missed you, though. Things have been... complicated, you know? But it’s good to see you again."

Elijah watched the exchange with a quiet smile, though his hand found Y/N's, grounding her with a touch that said everything without words.

When Y/N turned to the others in the room, her gaze landed on Elena, who had been standing quietly off to the side, watching the reunion with a mix of uncertainty and hope. Slowly, Y/N approached her, eyes softening as she did.

"Hey, Elena," Y/N said, voice steady but warm. "How are you?"

Elena hesitated, her gaze flickering between Y/N and Elijah before she finally stepped forward. "I’m... I’m okay. Really. I just—I’ve been trying to reach you. I wanted to apologise for everything that happened, Y/N. I should’ve understood sooner... but I was too caught up in my own pain to see yours."

Y/N’s heart softened, but there was still a guardedness in her voice. "It’s not just about you, Elena. I know you’re sorry. But you still haven’t really understood why I had to leave, have you?"

Elena looked down, visibly pained. "I get it now, I do. It was never about me. It was about you needing space, needing to find yourself again. I wasn’t there when you needed me most."

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice firm but not unkind. "I know you’re trying, but it’s going to take time. I’ll speak to you when I’m ready, okay? It’s just... it’s hard. For both of us."

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Damon blurted out, his gaze bouncing between Y/N and Elijah. “You’re with him?”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, her sarcasm cutting through the room like a blade. “Hello to you too, Damon. Always such a charmer.”

Elijah placed a reassuring hand on the small of her back, his calm demeanour unshaken. “It’s lovely to see you all again,” he said, his voice smooth and composed. “I trust this reunion will be...productive.”

“Reunion?” Stefan echoed, his brow furrowed. “Wait, how long has this been going on?” He gestured between Elijah and Y/N.

“Long enough,” Y/N replied, her tone sharp yet unapologetic. She glanced up at Elijah, her expression softening instantly. “And if you’re wondering, yes, we’re very happy.”

Bonnie’s eyes darted to the engagement ring glittering on Y/N’s hand. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, holding up her hand briefly, smiling. Jeremy hugged Y/N again congratulating her. 

Klaus entered the room then, with Kol and Rebekah trailing behind him. “Ah, the gang’s all here,” Klaus drawled, his smirk firmly in place. “I see you’ve all met my future sister-in-law. Delightful, isn’t she?”

Y/N shot him a mock glare. “Don’t start, Klaus.”

“Who, me?” Klaus said innocently, earning a snicker from Kol and an exasperated sigh from Rebekah.

Damon looked at Klaus, his irritation bubbling over. “How does she put up with you? Or any of you?”

“Patience,” Y/N said with a smirk, settling into a chair with Elijah gracefully taking the seat beside her. “You’d be amazed what it can achieve.”

Klaus chuckled. “And yet you somehow tolerate this lot,” he gestured to the Mystic Gang, “despite their...endearing flaws.”

Bonnie shot Klaus a warning look, cutting in before the conversation could devolve further. “Alright, enough. We need to talk about the threat we called you here for.”

As the discussion shifted to the supernatural danger facing Mystic Falls, Y/N listened intently, her hand still resting in Elijah’s. Occasionally, their gazes would meet, and the shared warmth between them was impossible to ignore—even to those who didn’t want to see it.

Elena’s eyes lingered on her sister throughout the meeting, noting the quiet strength and happiness radiating from her. It was a version of Y/N she hadn’t seen in years, and it left her both awed and uneasy.

By the time the meeting ended, it was clear that Y/N’s allegiance—and her heart—firmly belonged to the Mikaelsons. And while the Mystic Gang grappled with their shifting dynamics, Y/N couldn’t have cared less.

As she and Elijah left the Salvatore Boarding House that evening, his hand rested lightly at the small of her back, their love palpable in every touch, every glance. For Y/N, it wasn’t just about finding a new family—it was about building a future with the man who had shown her a love she never thought she deserved.

(Gifs credits goes to the rightful owners)

~Tags~

~The Last Goodbye:

@thefandomplace

@a--1--1--3

@misselsbells06

~The Vampire Diaries/The Originals & Supernatural:

@akshi8278

~The Vampire Diaries:

@sparklesmolwarriorprincess

[lunaandco]

anatomy studies; part one

pairing: pedri x ofc

summary: vic needs a model. pedri is very quick to offer his help, even if her brother does not approve.

taglist: @htpssgavi ; @joaosnovia

masterlist // series masterlist // I do not take requests

Pedri ignored the conversation he was supposed to be having with Ferran just to stare at Victoria Casadó. She was currently arguing with her older brother about something, both of them standing a bit apart from the group. It was moments like this that Pedri could take advantage of, in order to avoid setting off Marc's protective instincts, that made it almost impossible for a guy to approach her.

Vic was a pretty girl, with long silky hair, the same colour as her brother—although she was not balding like he was. She was also a third year art student, so it wasn't uncommon for Marc to have to skip a boys night out because she had forced him to model for her.

Pedri would never understand why Marc complained so much about it, he would do anything to be looked at by Vic in any capacity.

"Stop staring," Ferrran said, not even looking at where his friend's gaze had been lost. "Marc is going to catch you and you're a shit liar. Everyone already knows you want to smash his sister, he won't take long to realise soon, too."

Pedri blushed furiously.

"I wasn't..." he protested. "I do not..."

"See? You suck at lying."

Ferran had that shit eating grin he only displayed when he knew Pedri could not argue with his teasing.

"Do you know what they are arguing about?" Pedrihad been caught in the traffic on his way to Lewandowski's house, and he had missed the beginning of the hangout.

"Vic needs an nude model for her next assignment and she does not want to use Marc."

"Why?" he asked. "She always uses Marc when she has to draw men."

"Exactly because of that. She needs a bit of variety. And, well, she's supposed to do a slghtly erotic piece. You might understand why she doesn not want her older brother to be the model."

Pedri blushed again.

"Then who..."

"She wanted to ask today if any of us would be down for it, but Marc doesn't—"

"Want any footballer getting any ideas," finished Pedri. It was too late for Marc. Pedri had already gotten many ideas.

He strolled around the garden, casually aproaching the siblings, pretending it was a total coincidence to meet them at that point.

"Hey, how are you two?" he asked, making eye contact with Vic. She smiled shyly.

"Actually, not too well, my brother is being annoying," she told him.

"Older brothers," Pedri sympathised with her struggle, dramatically rolling his eyes. "It's like they only know how to be annoying. What are you tormenting the poor girl with, Casa?"

"He doesn't want me to draw any of you," she puted, her honey colored eyes looking at him through her lashes. "But it's so boring to always paint him..."

"I can be your model," he offered, smiling. "Casa here knows how trustworhty I am, right?"

"Well, yes, but..."

Vic's squeal of happiness interrupted Marc's complaints.

"Thank you, Pedri!" she said, throwing her hands around his neck in a hug.

"But it's supposed to be nude!" protested Marc. Pedri winked at him.

"Don't worry. i'll take good care of her, I promise."

Marc clenched his jaw, but even he knew not to make a scene about somehting like this in Lewandowski's garden, with all the team and families around them. Meanwhile, Pedri enjoyed the warmth of Vic's body pressed against him for the duration of the hug, being exactly as interested on her as Marc feared.

💙❤️

Should I shave beforehand?

Pedri texted. Marc had refused to let him get Vic's number, but had allowed him to follow her on her private Insta, which meant he had now access to a couple of pictures o her. He might have put one of those as his lockscreen.

No. Vic replied. I actually would rather you had a little bit of hair. You know, to practice the shading.

Because of that Pedri left his chest hair alone, He made the trip to the Casadó's househould, his heart beating fast and his legs weaker than after a Champions League game.

Marc opened the front door for him. Pedri's heart dropped. He should have known that he would insist on not leaving then alone for the duration of the session.

"Marquito stop being so paranoid," Vic complaned when she saw that her brother was following Pedri inside of her room. "I'm not a Victorian maiden and he is not going to take away my virtue or some shit," she said. "Get lost or I'll tell mom you're sneaking your girlfriend at night. See what happens then."

Marc grumbled, but the thrat landed true, and he retreated slowly.

"I'm sorry for my brother, he just worrues one of you will break my heart or somehting."

"I can tell. HE cares a lot about you," Pedri said, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

"it gets asphixiating," Vic concluded. "I... I'm sorry, we can stop this if you're uncomfortable."

"Don't worry about it," Pedri said, but he was sweating nervously. What if Vic didn't like his body?

"I need you to take your clothes off," she explained. "All of them. You can lay on the bed if you want."

Pedri gulped, but took off his hoodie first, and then his pants. Vic had turned her back on him, giving him a modicum of privacy, while she sorted out her materials. Once he was completely nude, he sat on the soft bed.

Pedri felt like he was going to hell. He was laying in his crush's bed, completely naked and surrounded by her scent, something between oil paint and tulips, but he coukd not let her know how much it excited him.

Thinking of this moment, Pedri had not considered the possibility of getting a boner, but as Vic finally turned, he found himself beging his dick to cooperate.

"Is this alright?" he asked, acomodating his back against the pillow.

"Yes." Vic said. "But I need you to bend your leg... no the other one. That's it."

The arms were more complicated. Pedri did not understand Vic's directions, and she ended up having to swallow up he rshyness and move them exactly whener she wanted. Pedri pretended as if his skin wasn't crawling at hte thought of her touching him.

"If you're cold or need a break just tell me," Vic indicated as she finally settled on her desk and grabbed her sketchbook. "I'll be as quick as I can."

💙❤️

Pedri wasn't sure how long it took. Marc went into the room at least five times, with the excuse of bringing water and snacks, but Pedri knew he was just checking that nothing he didn't approve of happened.

The sunlight was gone and Vic was cracking her back.

"We're done," she said, standing up. "Here, she gave him the finished drawing, which made Pedri blush. He looked sexy. the body he had always considered too skinny, too bony to be actually atractive on its own, without the addded perk of his footballng ability, was now staring back at him, shaded in charcoal and looking as beautiful as ever.

"Thank you," he said. Even his dick, which had cooperated with him, thank God, looked pretty, nestled between his thighs. The hair she had told him not to shave reflected its coarse texture, even if Vic had not touched.

"I should be the one saying that," Vic joked awkwardly. "Here, you can have the sketches."

She gave him some sheets in which he could also recognise himself, albeit less detailed and the traces lighter.

"I mean it," he insisted. "Thank you."

Vic's eyes slid down the curve of his shoulder. After two hours of being profoundly stared at, one woukd think Pedri would have gotten used to Victoria's eyes upon him, but he still shivered.

"Shit, I am so sorry, you must be freezing!" she said, leaping back and picking up his clothes for him. "I am so sorry," she repeated, "I'll leave you so you can dress properly.

Pedri opened his mouth to say something, but his voice got caught on his thoat as the door of the room closed behind Vic.

He dressed quicly, and grabbed the sketches Vic had gifted him again. In the corner, scribbled, there was a phone number and a note.

Don't tell Marc.

[nhl-stories]

i'm not sure that you want me – Kent Johnson

Summary: Kent's confused. About nothing. About everything. Mostly, he just wants someone to give him the answers.

Author’s Note: Someone sent in a request that just said Kent Johnson. Gender. I didn't really know him before but somehow his weirdly, pretty bug face broke me out of my writing rut. So thanks anon, I feel like i could have explored so much more but had to rein myself in

Word Count: 6.8k

You still live in Columbus right?

Kent gets the text after a particularly grueling rehab session, he’s out to lunch with the boys and a little tempted to order a drink to take off the edge off the day, even if it’s only 11 AM.

A second text buzzes in before he can answer.

I could google but thought I’d get it straight from the source

It had been a while since they texted each other, the last text telling him to get well soon in February. Not that they ever really communicated a ton. It was mostly when either saw something that reminded them of the other.

Like seeing one of Kent’s old teammates at a basement party doing something stupid.

Yeah, trying to come visit?

They hadn’t actually seen each other in person in a year or so. When he went back to school to get his ring, and that was only a brief hello when he had a million other obligations.

Trying to move just got accepted into OSU law school, it would be nice to have a familiar face

Kent doesn’t know how to respond right away. With the injury he feels a little more lost about his future. Not playing the last months of the season makes it harder for him to get traded, and he’s pretty sure the new contract in the works with Columbus will work out. But he really doesn’t know.

Wow congrats, lmk if you need anything I probably won’t be much help though

He doesn’t want to make any promises.

You’re saying my friend who is strong enough to move my furniture and rich enough to get me a nice meal after can’t help? What a ripoff 🙄

Kent can’t help but smile, unfortunately that gives Silly a chance to pounce.

“Who’s got KJ all smiley at his phone?”

The season has been a grind for everyone, not just Kent who’s had to helplessly watch from the sidelines for so long. They take they’re laughter when they can get it, Kent just made himself an easy target.

Adam peers over his shoulder, “You texting yourself? Getting that desperate?”

“It’s a different KJ,” he deadpans while he feels his face warm, “a friend from college.”

“Is this ‘friend,’” Silly obnoxiously uses air quotes, “hot?”

Kent rolls his eyes and throws a balled-up napkin at him. Slips his phone in his pocket to respond to later.

++++

KJ had lived in Columbus for almost five months before meeting up with Kent. In part because of the off season, but they had a hard time locking down plans. First a coffee meetup that fell through, then lunch, then she excitedly suggested they get drinks since they were both actually legal now.

KJ said they would be in the park after work and they could walk to a place. He found her reading on a bench. If he hadn’t followed her location pin, he wouldn’t have been sure it was them.

He had checked her Instagram before he left to see a more recent picture than what he had in his head. They don’t post a lot, even less of pictures of them, mostly books, plants, or friends. The last picture was a blurry picture of people dancing on a table, he couldn’t even pick out KJ if he tried.

Her hair was much longer than the last time he saw them, it had been shorter than his and dyed a blue that was so dark it was almost black. Now, it was mostly a light purple, except the blonde roots. Kent wasn’t sure if she was a natural blonde. Can’t recall what shade her shaved head was when they first met.

That was when their Women, Gender, and Sexuality professor paired ‘Katrina Johnson’ and ‘Kent Johnson’ for the first project of the year and as she slid into the chair next to him, said ‘you better not be one of those dumb jocks who drops this class before we finish the project.’ Kent didn’t even try to joke about how he took this class because he heard it was easy and could tell his teammates he had to leave to study women.

And that’s how boy KJ met girl KJ, which they would amend months later: ‘I’m really more of the girl-ish KJ, emphasis on -ish.’

KJ doesn’t notice him walking up so he takes a seat beside her before saying anything.

She jumps a little before a smile breaks through, “holy shit I forgot how low your voice is.”

KJ shoves the book into their backpack, the same beat up maroon JanSport he remembers from college. She reaches over and Kent thinks she’s going in for a hug, but stops turning when they touch the ends of his hair.

“And your hair is so short! People won’t confuse us for a cute lesbian couple anymore,” she faux pouts.

Kent rolls his eyes but can feel the upward quirk of his lip, “Shut up.”

“What? I liked when my friends would ask me about the cute, butch girl they saw me walking around campus with. It was good for my rep.”

Their smile doesn’t wane, “I’m glad we could finally meet up.”

Then she moves in for the hug, it’s a bit of an awkward angle while they’re still sitting. But they squeezes him tight, makes him think about the last time someone really hugged him. Probably his mom, before he flew back to Columbus.

They walk to a bar nearby, KJ asks Kent about his summer, training camp, how his shoulder feels.  When they get to the bar, they both get carded; she elbows him excitedly like they’re getting away

He finds out they’re deferring law school for a year, hoping to get some more savings for food and rent before getting more student debt. Currently she’s part-time clerking at the ACLU and some other law firm that pays better but they seem iffy about the work they do. Then volunteering at a queer community center closer to her apartment and campus.

Kent worried that once they caught up on life basics it would be awkward, they got along pretty well at school, but they didn’t actually have that much in common.

Before meeting KJ, Kent hadn’t even spent a lot of time with women who weren’t interested in him, for hockey or romantically or a combo of both. It had been a nice change of pace when KJ came into his life, but that didn’t mean it would work outside the limbo of college life.

But the awkward moment never comes.

They keep talking until KJ looks at their phone.

“Shit, we’ve been here for like 2 hours. You probably have other things to do.”

“Not really, do you want to get dinner?”

Kent takes them to one of his favorite restaurants, it’s another two hours before they wrap up the evening. Kent’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

KJ gives him directions to her apartment; he pulls up into front of brick building, it’s easy to tell how close they are to the college now. When he turns after putting it in park he sees KJ staring at him, looking up at him while she leans on the console.

“KJ?” They bat their eyelashes.

“Yes, KJ?” His throat feels dry.

“Are you going to invite me to a hockey game?”

He can’t stop the snorting laugh that comes out.

“Um, yeah.”

She raises a brow like she’s expecting more.

“Do you want to come to a hockey game?”

“I’d love to! You probably don’t know your schedule off the top of your head so just tell me when you know some dates.”

“Cool, have good night.”

KJ leans further in for a hug, whispers against his ear, “I’m so happy we get to hang out again.”

They pull away and ruffle his short hair again, then kisses his forehead before he can even process what’s happening. He watches them walk up the drive and disappear through the door.

++++

She told him he was pretty once. Honestly, probably more than once, but the first time is what he really remembers.

Kent doesn’t know why that’s the memory that’s pinging around his head while he’s taping his stick.

Going over to KJ’s to off-campus apartment to work on their assignment, she had answered the door in a silk robe before leading him into the living room and plopping on the floor with notes on the coffee table. She sat cross legged on the couch facing him, flashing her underwear that he would have described as a ‘laundry day’ pair.

KJ started talking about what readings they could cite, like there wasn’t a borderline stranger in her house while she was half naked, like she had never felt self-conscious in her entire life. He had never met a girl like that before.

“I know I don’t look it, but I like sports,” she’s painting her toenails while trying to make a point about how masculinity hurts men too, “how do you think I knew you were a student athlete? You don’t exactly look like typical jock.”

Kent widened his eyes at that, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” she grabs his ankle and moves his foot closer to her, he has a hole in the big toe of his sock, she slathers a layer of purple glitter polish on the exposed nail.

She looks up when she’s done, “You’re really pretty for a guy.”

He wasn’t sure how to react, he didn’t get a chance because one of her roommates came in.

“Whoa Cage brought home a boy,” the new girl fist pumped with a wicked grin.

Then she’s crawling into KJ’s space, kissing her on the mouth, slipping a hand under the opening of her robe and groping her chest. KJ smiled into the kiss, Kent felt a vague lecherous swooping in his stomach, he felt a bit like a pervert for not looking away. But really, he wasn’t sure if wanted to be KJ or the roommate.

He shakes the thought out of his head, he has a game to focus on.

The game starts out well enough, despite the time apart, playing Owen is still weird. Maybe extra weird since his head seems to be stuck in Michigan today. But he gets an assist on the first goal, and his head snaps back into focus.

And then as quick as it comes together, it falls apart.

When he falls, he immediately knows something is wrong, a sinking feeling of déjà vu. Surgery, rehab, months away from hockey; it’s a dizzying thought and he forces himself off the ice and down the tunnel before it becomes overwhelming.

The trainers gingerly take him out of his top gear, give him a fairly thorough look over to determine he’s definitely out for the game. He’s poked and prodded while he watches the teams trade goals. The useless feeling from last season starts to rear its ugly head.

The second period ends and so does the exam. He’s not going back in tonight, how long he’ll be out to be determined later. For now, he can take some pain meds and the rest of his gear off.

The guys are in the locker room when he starts to undress, he gets a few pats on the knee, most of the guys try not to give him that ‘sucks you’re injured’ sympathetic smile, but a couple slip through. A knee jerk reaction.

His phone is buzzing incessantly in his locker, like an annoying bug in his ears. Once he’s down in his base layers, he just soaks in being around the guys as they hype each other up for the last push. The sour feeling in his belly makes him worry he won’t get this any time soon.

Once the guys are back on the ice, he pulls out his phone. A text from his mom, some of the Michigan guys all hoping he’s okay.

The last one’s from KJ: That looked nasty, let me know if you’re still up to meet up afterwards, no pressure

He had gotten her a pass that would let her down to the family room, and he doesn’t want the night to be a total bust for her. He gives her directions on how to get downstairs before taking a shower, hoping to wash away some of this awful feeling.

The Blue Jackets win, which feels like a consolation prize for his shitty night. That and he’s given a free pass to skip any media obligations, since his injury is still of an uncertain severity. No one even seems to care that he leaves without changing back into his game day suit.

He turns the corner towards the family room and sees KJ talking to a group of WAGs.  They’re having an animated conversation like they’re all longtime friends. KJ looks up and sees him, quickly saying bye before she comes running over, their high ponytail swinging until they pull up short on Kent.

“I was gonna hug you, but that’s probably a bad idea,” They hold out a fist to bump instead.

“It probably doesn’t mean much since I’m clearly bad luck, but I had a lot of fun.”

“Injuries happen, not your fault. Besides you saw me at school all the time and I never got injured there.”

“Excellent point, we’ll have to do further research when you’re better,” she grins up at and he can’t help but smile back at her.

“Yeah, and you made some friends,” he nods towards the girlfriends who are still talking, maybe shooting subtle glances their way.

“Oh yeah, they just saw me awkwardly standing around and asked who I knew. Said we’re friends from college and as you can see, I’m wearing a pretty gay outfit so they definitely don’t think we’re dating.”

He looks over her outfit and can’t really point out what of the baggy jeans and jacket over a vintage CBJ t-shirt that looks like it’s seen a thousand washes is really gay, but he’s not really the expert. He thinks maybe it’s the Doc Martens before his eyes catch on the pins: A bright rainbow flag and one that says she/they.

He realizes he probably should have just responded, said something like ‘I don’t care if they think we’re dating.’ Which overall, yeah, he doesn’t particularly mind, he’d get equal amounts of chirps for his singleness or if he had a new girlfriend.

“Do you want to get some ice cream?”

“Huh?” He shakes himself out of his head.

“Ice cream? People tend to like to eat it when they’ve had a rough day, and you, KJ, have had a rough day.”

“Yeah, sure.”

KJ directs him not to an ice cream place, but a grocery store. Buying two pints by claiming ‘my treat’ before they end up on his couch. She lets him put on the Kraken game and talk her ear off about Matty and how teams across the league look for the new season.

When he starts to nod off, KJ takes his pint and puts it in the freezer and gives him a kiss on the cheek on the way out. He falls asleep forgetting about the pit in his stomach from earlier.

++++

The injury is deemed day-to-day, but the doctors seem to think it will be about a month before he gets the all clear. The dark pit in his stomach grows a little deeper. Sure, he doesn’t need more surgery or anything. But it doesn’t feel great going down two games into a new season. The season where he was finally going to prove himself in the NHL.

He goes home and eats the rest of the pint ice cream for lunch, because it’s not like he has to play tomorrow or the day after that or even the day after that. The feeling subsides for a bit, but it gnaws away enough that he has to leave his place. Before he knows it, he’s parked in front of KJ’s house.

He hasn’t been inside, just dropped her off. He rings the bell of the middle door he’s seen her enter. There’s an almost eerie silence after the ringing stops, he thinks about pressing the button again but then hears someone coming down the steps.

KJ opens the door in a fuzzy red robe.

“Hey KJ, this is a surprise,” they smile up at him.

“Yeah, I- uh- had a shitty day and wanted to see if you wanted to hang out?”

“I’m just watching TV in bed, if that interests you? My roommate is sleeping before she goes to work so we just have to be quiet.”

Kent takes off his shoes and follows them up the stairs and to the room off the kitchen before he has a chance to really look around. There’s a small TV on top of beat-up trunk at the foot of the bed that KJ hops back onto, getting comfy against the pillows and headboard.

Her room is lit up with pink-ish fairy lights, that kind of hide the clutter around the room. But he can’t stop from staring at strap on hanging on the wall, a graduation tassel hanging off the yellow harness.

They look between Kent and the wall, trying to hold back a laugh.

“It was a graduation gift for the seniors at The Spectrum, for graduating with honors. Like Some Cum Loud, it’s embroidered on the harness.”

She raises an eyebrow waiting for him to finally make eye contact, they can’t tell if his cheeks are actually pink or it’s just the lighting. He finally flicks his eyes toward her.

“That one’s never been used. The one I use is in a box under my bed,” KJ can’t hold back the giggle this time and gets a twisted smile from Kent in return.

They pat the spot next to them on the bed and wait for Kent to unclench a bit and get on the bed. Moving around some pillows trying to get comfortable.

“We’re watching Girls, it’s problematic and a little annoying but also iconically messy,” they press play without any room for discussion or comment.

And the pair drift into a comfortable silence. KJ fans her hair out on the pillows, it’s damp and will probably dry funny. Kent wonders if it’s soft.

An episode ends and new one begins before KJ finally says something.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Kent shrugs, when he speaks his voice croaks more than usual, “not really.”

KJ hums, doesn’t say anything for a moment, then twists her body to face him. The slit at the front of her robe doesn’t move, revealing her pale leg all the way up to her hip and the pink underwear she has underneath.

“Do you want me to paint your fingernails?”

“No.”

“How about your toes?”

Kent scrunches his face, “No, I’m good.”

“I could braid your hair.”

“Do you need an activity?”

“I don’t know, I don’t have boys in my bed that often.”

“And that’s what you think boys in your bed want to do?”

She shimmies he shoulders, “no, I know what boys want in bed…”

Kent feels his face heat up, he didn’t mean to imply anything.

“But this has more slumber party vibes.”

They suddenly sit up onto their knees, and bounces on the bed, she brushes up against Kent’s thigh.

“We can order pizza and gossip about boys… well probably girls in our case.”

“I could go for pizza… not the gossip though.”

KJ adamantly slaps his thigh, “oh come on, you’re a professional athlete you’ve gotta have some fun stories from the road or something.”

He can’t stop the crooked smile in response and KJ knows she’s got him.

“I’ll find a way to crack you open, just you wait KJ,” they raise their brows a few times before grabbing their phone to look at pizza places.

And suddenly this is how most of Kent’s nights unfold. He’s still keyed up from not being able to play, watching from the press box helplessly, desperate to get out and skate. But it seems more manageable when he can pick KJ up from work and out to dinner or for TV in her bed or his couch.

He never really had a distraction outside of hockey before. He had class or studying at Michigan but that mostly meant hanging out with his teammates with books open in the athlete study hall or on rare occasions, the library. He tried to fill his empty injury time last season with reading, but it still felt like work for hockey when it was mostly books about mindset or other athletes.

This is different.

KJ smiles when he casually brings it up, that he likes having someone outside of his hockey bubble.

“Dumb, jock boy learns about work-life balance,” they laugh and goes back chopping vegetables in his kitchen.

He doesn’t bring up that he liked hanging out with her in college in the same way. That they only lived in the same place for about nine months and some of his time with KJ is still his fondest memories.

He liked when she invited him to parties.  Ones that didn’t always blast the same music he heard at the hockey house. Where people asked where he was from or what his major was rather than how was the Olympics or when are you leaving for the NHL. Liked that they talked about things he didn’t know anything about and didn’t make fun of him (much), just told him in a way he could understand.

He’s glad he gets to have this with KJ for the foreseeable future, even if it’ll less frequent when he gets back on the ice.

“Are you going to be playing again next week?” She dumps the vegetables in a frying pan.

“Probably not, I think I’m going to be able to practice maybe, or at least skate.”

“That’s exciting! And I hope maybe you get to play sooner than you think, but if you’re not, do you want to go to a ‘Boob Voyage’ party with me?”

“A what?”

“My friend is getting his top surgery, so we’re throwing him party to say ‘ta ta to his tatas.”

“Clever.”

“It’s not your usual crowd, but it’s basically gonna be a college party at a place with a less sticky floor. And I’ll make sure no one posts anything with you on social media, just thought maybe you could meet some of my friends.”

She says it a little too fast, like they’re nervous. Something Kent’s not sure he’s ever witnessed. He can’t tell if it’s nerves about him saying no or him meeting their friends. KJ has met a couple of his teammates; Adam lives nearby and is coming over for dinner in a few minutes.

“Sure, I’ll go,” and it’s worth the answer just to see her smile.

++++

“Maybe you don’t need to change, you’re dressed like a lesbian,” KJ laughs when Kent opens the door.

“What?”

“I have that exact outfit in my closet,” they laugh pointing mostly at the Birkenstock clogs he’s been wearing since he left the rink.

A retort dries on his tongue when KJ takes off her coat. She’s wearing a white sweater vest with nothing underneath, only the top button holding it together. The loose knit not hiding their dark, rosy nipples underneath.

Thankfully, KJ doesn’t seem to notice the staring.

“Do you mind if I finish my makeup while you get dressed?” She’s holding up her purse, shaking its contents in his face, “But no pressure, you can wear that, you’d fit in pretty well.”

He rolls his eyes and leads them up to his bedroom, a place they haven’t been to except for the brief tour he gave during the first visit.

She walks into the ensuite like she owns the place, leaving the door open and looking at Kent who feels like he’s helplessly staring.

“You can give me a little fashion show if you’re not sure what you’re going to wear, but whatever is probably be fine. James, who’s party it is, is totally basic dude fashion.”

Kent nods and wanders over to his walk-in closet. He tries not to overthink anything while he flips through his hangers.

Once he’s dressed, he leans in the bathroom door until KJ notices.

“Oooh, I like the red, very The Ohio State,” they smile at the bright red button down he’s wearing over a cream shirt.

Kent rolls his eyes and moves to go back to his closet.

“You can’t be mad at me for being an Ohio native. But let me try it again. Go Blue! And you look very Canadian, patriotic.”

“Better,” his mouth twists into a smirk while he looks in the mirror to fix his hair, after wearing a beanie all day.

KJ finishes applying mascara, one eye has swoosh of blue eyeliner and the other pink. Then jumps to sit on the counter, in between the his and hers sinks he doesn’t have a real need for.

“Let me do your make up,” it’s easier for them to bat their eyelashes when they’re thick and sooty like this.

Kent can feel his face contort in a look between confusion and disgust, he doesn’t even need to look up at his reflection.

“Come on, you’ll look so cute! I mean, you’re always cute but even cuter,” she pushes a lock of his hair out of his face, “I’ll keep it simple, just highlight your perfect cheekbones and a little eye makeup.”

She stares him down like she’s not going to beg, but she’s also not going to give up.

“Fine, but only cause you’re making me feel underdressed.”

He lets KJ rearrange him between their open legs, they grab his chin and positions his face the way they want. She gets the intense, focused look on her face when she starts. Her mouth hangs open a bit, their tongue pushing against the gap in their front two teeth.

Kent wants to put his tongue there, too.

He shakes his head like the intrusive thought will fall out, KJ laughs when it causes their brush to go off course. She uses her thumb to try and correct the mistake.

“All done,” they give his cheeks a quick squeeze together and hop off the counter.

She’s still standing in front of him, back pressed all against his front. Looking for approval from his reflection.

He feels kind of pretty.

His cheekbones look somehow sharper and softer at the same time, his eyes brighter than usual with sharp black eyeliner, a sprinkling of glitter at the corner of his eyes.

“Do you like it? I won’t tell anyone if you do,” biting their lip, looking a bit nervous.

Kent can only wordlessly nod, he doesn’t hate it and he’s not quite sure how he feels about that.

“Okay, let’s go.”

They arrive to the party and roar of cheers come with KJ’s arrival. They hold Kent’s hand while they make introductions.

“Let’s play beer pong, loosen you up a bit,” pulls him towards the table, let’s go of his hand for the first time since they arrived.

The beer pong is familiar enough to make him relax a bit. The balls are bright pink and they’re using champagne glasses, when they sink a shot it kind of looks like nipple. He guesses that’s sort of the point.

They win a game and KJ jumps into his arms to celebrate. He feels drunk even though he’s only had maybe one drink.

But then there’s shots and dancing where he can feel the heat radiating off KJ’s body.  

There are more shots and people asking Kent questions he normally would never think about, like how the NHL insurance is.

Another shot and then getting shoved into a rented photobooth with strangers.

He gets another drink and laughs from couch with KJ’s friends, KJ comes and plops half on the arm of the couch, half in his lap. His hand carefully rests on her hip.

“Cage, when you said you were bringing a straight boy, I didn’t think you meant your beard from Mich!” A bleach blonde woman Kent vaguely remembers meeting in college shouts from her chair across from them.

KJ flips her off, while she tells their new friends that they used to call them gay KJ and straight KJ after they learned he was in fact not a butch lesbian.

“I’m expanding our hetero horizons, we’re like one more shared ex-girlfriend from being an incestuous cult,” KJ laughs and slides completely into Kent’s lap

“You’re really enjoy that hetero exploration,” a man whose name Kent forgot catcalls.

“Guys stop! You’re gonna make him think we’re really narrow-minded gays.”

KJ laughs and wraps an arm around Kent’s shoulder, as the conversation ping pongs into another direction.

They stumble out into the street at about 2 AM, Kent thinks it’s the drunkest he’s been since college.

“My place is closer, let’s walk there,” KJ slurs and pulls him in that direction.

They’re arm in arm while they walk towards her place, it reminds Kent of the time KJ came to a hockey party and at the end of the night she begged for him to give her a piggyback ride home because she was so tired.

KJ fumbles with their keys and falls through the door with Kent on top of her when it suddenly opens. They both can’t hold back their laughs.

“Shh, shhhh, we don’t want to wake your roommate,” Kent tries to stop laughing.

“She’s working at the lab this weekend, we’re all good,” they start up the stairs after hanging up their coat.

Kent strips to his boxers and crawls into bed, he’s never gotten under the covers here. Just sat on top of the duvet with KJ like they were two teenagers worried a parent would walk in and assume the worst.

KJ comes back on wobbly legs, her hair piled on top of her head with a claw clip holding it in place, it looks kind of stupid. Their makeup is washed off and they’re wearing glasses that remind him of Owen’s, which is the last thing he wants to be thinking about right now.

Especially when KJ is crawling on top of him.

He’s about to say something when they move to hold his chin in place. Her thumb drifts up to his lower lip, nail pressing against the soft flesh. He sucks in a breath, their thumb drifts into his mouth.

KJ’s gaze is so adoring, he feels paralyzed by all the emotions going through his head.

She then brings a washcloth up to his face and gently wipes away the makeup. Kent hates that he has to close his eyes, like it’s breaking some spell that hasn’t finished casting.

When they pull the washcloth away, they tilt his head side to side, checking their work.

“Perfect,” KJ leans in close.

Kent has to hold his breath, tries to stop himself from being impulsive. Then KJ’s lips are touching his and he knows deep down it’s probably meant to be a quick peck, but he has to try or he’ll regret missing his perfect chance.

He grabs their hips with one hand and gently cups the back of her neck with the other. His grip is loose enough that KJ could break away if she wanted to, but instead they start to kiss back.

The washcloth slaps to ground while KJ moves to use Kent’s shoulder for stability. Their tongues meet in the middle and it all feels that much more intoxicating than any of the alcohol he had tonight.

Now that he knows she’s not pulling away he moves his hand at their neck down her chest. KJ hasn’t changed yet, and it’s easy to flick open the one button and expose their bare chest.  He grabs a handful and she moans into his mouth.

KJ can’t seem to hold themselves up anymore. Pinning Kent’s hand between their bodies. KJ is soft and curvy everywhere Kent is flat and firm, and their bodies seem to mold together.

“I’m sorry, I’m drunk.”

Kent’s suddenly cold and KJ seems to have flung herself across the room.

He doesn’t know what’s the right thing to say, he doesn’t know why KJ is apologizing; he’s the one who started this.

She’s taking off her sweater and pants, changing into their pajamas and all he can do is gawk like a moron, until they turn off the lights.

“I’m drunk too,” he finely says, lamely late into the dark.

“Good night, KJ,” she whispers into the dark.

“Night KJ, I had fun,” he whispers back, a hand reaches across the bed and squeezes his, it might as well be squeezing his heart.

++++

He leaves the next morning before KJ wakes up; a walk of shame for his actions, for the conversation he doesn’t know how to have, for the things he’s not ready to admit.

Then he’s back on the ice for a full-contact practice and there’s not much time to think about it. It doesn’t stop the guilt from stewing deep down in his gut, but it’s easier to ignore when he’s back in the lineup.

Harder to ignore when he gets a series of texts from KJ:

ur game is on at this bar

saw you score 🍻😘

 first game back baby 💖🥵💪

He knows he should probably invite her to a game now, make a peace offering that might make things seem normal. They’ve been texting like everything is normal, KJ sent him some pictures from the party. Maybe KJ is showing him mercy by ignoring what happened, maybe they don’t even remember.

He hearts the texts and talks about plans to celebrate with some of the guys.

They continue to live in ignorance while the guilt and confusion gnaws at his insides.

Then it’s shoved in his face at team’s Thanksgiving dinner. The first thing someone yells at him, “KJ where’s your girlfriend?”

He tries to play it off, making a joke about Fants who he carpooled with, it holds them off for approximately 10 minutes.

Zach’s fiancée, who had all of one conversation with KJ, asks him next, “Why didn’t you bring your girlfriend? Afraid of the full team interrogation?”

He doesn’t even know where to begin. That’s KJ isn’t his girlfriend? That they wouldn’t even be his girlfriend if they were dating? She would be his partner? Some other term he doesn’t even know yet?

“Um, she’s­ – they’re volunteering with some friends.”

“Okay, so not at the introducing to all the friends or spending holidays together phase, I understand,” she winks and walks away and Kent knows she doesn’t understand anything.

He gets a small reprieve with a week-long road trip where he feels so busy, that the plane-bus-hotel-practice-game-sleep repeat has never felt so good. And if he’s acting weird or aloof, no one comments. He takes it all as a win, even if they lose three in a row.

They lose the first game of the homestead; he wakes up to a text from KJ.

The washer in our building broke can I come do laundry?

It’s maybe the most innocuous thing they could have texted. He invites her over that night, offers to order dinner for them.

They come over in a pair of threadbare sweatpants and rainbow block M shirt, dragging a large rolling suitcase, pushing past Kent at the door to go to the laundry closet. They just start dumping things into the washer, pouring in soap, and ignoring Kent who doesn’t even know how to start talking. Even if there might not be anything to talk about.

She slams washer door and punches buttons until it comes to life, finally turning to Kent.

They cut their hair since he lost saw her. It’s almost as short as his hair, a choppy approximation of a mullet. It suits them.

“So, let’s sit down and talk about that kiss,” they come right out and say it, Kent chokes on his breath.

“You brought laundry for an ambush?”

“Our washer really is broken, so it was a good excuse. And I get free laundry done.”

He can’t fault her for that, let’s himself get pushed towards the living room couch to face the music.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts the moment they’re both sitting.

KJ bites their lip, her tooth gap barely peeking out.

“For what?” she says it so timidly, like she’s just as unsure about all of this as Kent.

Which can’t possibly be true, because they always know. They’re always so sure and headstrong. And Kent’s the one who misread everything, pushed himself on her without thinking about what KJ really wants. Only his own selfish desires.

“I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you when you were drunk, I know you don’t— you wouldn’t— I’m not—" he doesn’t know how to fill in that blank.

“You’re not what? My type?” Kent can only shrug, “and why’s that? Cause you’re straight?”

“I don’t know, I’m just confused,” he mumbles, can’t even look up to see what kind of expression KJ is making.

“Well having a crush on me does make you a little less straight,” KJ snickers and it makes him look up.

They’re giving him a sad kind of smile. He doesn’t know how to take it, but he doesn’t feel like he’s about to be reprimanded.

“And that’s what that was right? You have a crush on me?” Kent purses his lips, doesn’t want to make the wrong move.

“Because, I have a little bit of a crush on you too,” she puts a hand on his knee and squeezes, it’s electric.

“But you stopped us, and then apologized.”

“Being drunk isn’t usually a great starting point for big monumental changes between friends and,” she takes a big breath, “and I’ve never actually had sex with um—” they gesture in the general direction of Kent’s crotch.

“What?” Kent cocks his head to the side.

“I mean, I didn’t even know I liked boys until college and by then I was pretty comfortable with the lesbian sex and—"

“Didn’t you have a boyfriend like a year ago?” He remembers seeing something on Instagram.

“He was trans so… it’s not the penetration part cause, trust, I’ve had my fair share of penetration. I’ve given my fair share of penetration,” they ruffle their own hair while they ramble, Kent’s kind of endeared.

“And like the one time I gave a blow job in college I was like super drunk and threw up on his dick… so I went back to the lesbian sex because I’m good at that.”

He can’t hold back the surprised laugh. He’s not used to this squirmy KJ.

“So, the biological equipment is all kind of new to me; it’s soft and then it’s hard and then there’s a mess and—”

“KJ, shut up.”

Kent cups their face so she can focus on him.

“As much as I love you being the uncomfortable one for once, just shut up.”

She stares at him with wide eyes, waiting for his next move.

“Here I was worrying I forced myself on you and questioning my identity, and you’re having an existential crisis about my dick?”

Their eyebrows shoot up to their hairline, “you were questioning your identity?”

“We can circle back to that later,” he leans in to kiss them, before they can say anything else.

The first kiss was nice, but this one is great. There’s certainty behind it that makes Kent feel warm all over. He pushes KJ onto their back, her legs fall open and Kent slots between them.

After what feels like eternity, they come up for air. They tangle their fingers in his hair, keeping him from getting too far away. Her legs tighten around his hips, like she’s testing where the new boundaries might be.

The washer chimes that it’s done.

KJ kisses him once, twice then pushes him off to go to the laundry. His eyes follow her helplessly.

She comes back sans sweatpants, the t-shirt falling just past the tops of the their thighs, and stops at the foot of the stairs.

“I think your bedroom might be a more conducive learning environment,” she gives him a lopsided, shy smile.

He jumps over the back of the couch, scrambling towards them. He grabs their hips and pulls them back into a kiss, but stops before he gets in too deep.

“What if this ruins our friendship?”

“Eh, have other friends,” she has a wicked grin, Kent bites their lip in retaliation.

[fandombandomfics]

He's Back? (Myung-gi/Player 333 x Reader)

Summary: the reader is the significant other of Myung-gi (sorry to my player 222 fans). He hasn't contacted them in 6 days so they begin to wonder, if he will come back.

warnings: none

Y/N's POV

It’s been six days since I’ve heard from Myung-gi….six whole days of no contact and I’m worried. He has never gone no contact with me in this long…I wonder why and I’m worried sick. I haven’t eaten in five days because of the nerves, something tells me that something happened. Little did I know shit did happen. I eat my dinner and try to maintain a calm demeanor and keep my food down. I sigh as I hear a knock on my door. I get up, hoping it’s Myung-gi and wipe my hands on my pants. Opening the door, I see him standing at the door but he has bruises on his face and a bandage on his hand. 

“M-M-M-Myung-gi?” I ask, not believing that he’s standing right in front of me. He nods and gives me a small smile. I scowl at him and hit his arm, angry that he didn’t even bother to contact me the past week. 

“Ow woman!” He yells, rubbing his arm.  Asshole for not contacting me.

“Six days! Six days with no phone call or text?!” I yell as tears prick my eyes. He gives me a small, sad smile and makes his way into the apartment. 

“I can explain…” He says and I close the door. 

“Then you better start talking…” I say. He explains to me the games….who he ran into…how it went. I look at him dumb founded, wondering if he’s telling me the full truth. 

“So you’re telling me that 456 people voluntarily went into these games and you were one of the lucky few who made it out alive?” I ask, not fully believing his story. He nods, the look of guilt on his face. I look at him and try to read him, to see if he’s lying to me. I only see sadness and guilt in his eyes, indicating that he isn’t lying. 

“You idiot,” I say and hit his arm again. 

“Ow Y/N stop hitting me!” He yells 

“What if you died in there?! I wouldn’t have known what happened to you….I wouldn't even get your body back…” I say, my voice shaking with pent up emotion. His gaze softens and pulls me onto his lap. 

“I’m sorry love…I just wanted to get out of my debt..” He says, softly. I knew he was in debt, it's one of the things he told me about when we first got together. His bitcoin investment falling from under his feet, him losing his followers. 

“Don’t do that again,” I say, as tears fall down my cheeks. He cups my face with his hands and gazes into my eyes. 

“I promise to never do that again..” He says, rubbing his thumb on my cheeks. 

“Good..” I say and I can tell more happened in the games than he’s telling me…maybe one day he will tell me. But until that day comes, I’ll wait.

[ellie-s-list]

Forget Me Not

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Ah... I have not written anything on this blog for two years. It's weird that the last thing I posted was an Ellie Williams one shot since I started with Anime and MHA. However, I don't think the writing was actually bad.

And now I'm back with a Spencer Reid one-shot.

Authors Note: HIGHLY self-indulgent. I do not care. I'm writing what I want to read and maybe, just maybe, using these characters to try to heal inner trauma. If you say or have any criticisms I'm open but do not attack the obvious signs of mental health issues in this one shot. It's me. It's a self-insert. I'M NOT SORRY. But I am, please like it, and I hope that if anyone feels the same way I do that you one day find peace.

WARNINGS: Anxiety, rumination, mentions of self-deprecating thoughts, past trauma, and over all the reader has poor view of self and a poor outlook on life. Mentions parts of Avoidant Personality Disorder, shows that within the text.

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

Powder blue in color, star in shape, and yellow centered. These flowers are known as Forget Me Nots, known for the meaning of true love and respect, representing a promise of remembrance from the giver. It’s not like you don’t think you would ever get flowers in such a way, but you also know that a random person, or anyone, most likely wouldn’t gift you these flowers. 

What about you doesn’t attract people? People who want to be with you, who can accept the way you act, react, what you like to do in your free time. It’s not easy to be open-minded in a close-minded world. Everyone tells other how to think, how to react, or they try to tell them how to react. 

Love sucks, unconditional love is worse. And reading the poem If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda is like a knife to the gut, and with each line read, another twist is added to the blade. 

I want you to know one thing.

You know how this is:             if I look              at the crystal moon, at the red branch              of the slow autumn at my window,             if I touch              near the fire             the impalpable ash             or the wrinkled body of the log             everything carries me to you             as if everything that exists,             aromas, light, metals             were little boats             that sail             toward those isles of yours that wait for me

Those lines sound like a Hozier song. One of longing, crawling back to a person that you know you love, hoping to be loved back. It reminded you of customers that are regulars at your bookstore. A small little thing in the corner of Quantico Virginia, filled top to bottom with books, plants by the big windows, and homey, used furniture. 

It was Tuesday, and as usual, a slow day. Tuesdays were slow for a multitude of reasons, mostly because there’s less travel in town, around town, and the fact that school is out for the winter season. College students returned home, giving you time to restock on textbooks or notebooks, journals, and planners that usually sell out when a new semester rolled around. 

But another thing always happened on Tuesdays. At least, most of the time. 

You were on your phone, staring at the lines of the poem once again when the bell on the door rings. Glancing at the clock on your phone, you huff and look up from the table where the register was, having leant on it to read from your phone. Every Tuesday, usually, at five in the evening, an hour before close, Dr. Spencer Reid would visit your store. 

Thanks to him, your stock of books in other languages got bigger. Mostly by request, since you knew how to order directly from the source and the fact that it was a homey space. You even got a coffee pot for you small store just for him. 

“Dr. Reid,” You smiled at him as he walked up to the register. 

“Hello, I’m sorry I’m here when you’re about to close,” He presses his lips together, adjusting his messenger bag. He got a haircut, you note, realizing that his length in hair changed to a shorter, more boyish look. 

“As always, I have an hour left,” You reply. Spencer shrugs, tapping the table with his index fingers. 

“Well… would it be too late to ask you if you’d like some coffee?” He asked, voice soft as he stared down at the table. 

“I can brew you a pot—”

“No, I mean, after you close. We can go somewhere,” He replies quickly, cutting you off. 

Silence enveloped the small shop as you looked at him, then back down at the dark screen of your phone, where Pablo Neruda’s poem resided. 

Well, now,              if little by little you stop loving me             I shall stop loving you little by little

If suddenly             you forget me             do not look for me,             for I shall already have forgotten you

If you think it long and mad,             the wind of banners             that passes through my life,             and you decide             to leave me at the shore             of the heart where I have roots,             remember             that on that day,              at that hour,             I shall lift my arms             and my roots will set off             to seek another land

A few months pass after the coffee date. It was nice, knowing that Spencer actually liked you for you. Nothing seemed to phase him. Not your lifestyle, not the melancholic thoughts you got, not the way you obsess over your favorite forms of media. Nothing scared him away from you. 

Spencer liked everything about you.

Or so he says. 

You can’t help staring down at your phone, sitting alone on the couch in his apartment. He had only left you for a moment as you look at the same poem that you had the day he asked you out for the first time. What if he got bored of you? Forgot about you? Yeah, sure, he has an eidetic memory, but it’s easy to forget for a while. 

He may not forget the way you looked when you laughed, your smile, the glint in your eyes when you got excited, but he could stop caring about those things. That’s what scared you the most. Knowing that you were easily forgettable. Hell, you were forgotten your whole childhood, it’s not like Spencer couldn’t jump on the same train your family did. 

It would be easy for him. To forget you. What about you was memorable? Your true worth was only connected to the way people used you. 

But Spencer states that he doesn’t want to use you, a small voice in the back of your head shot back, pushing through the anxious thoughts and the onset rumination that was starting to build. He had figured you out easily, a perk of like a profiler you guess. But it made being with him annoying to you. You liked privacy, but he liked knowing how to make you comfortable. 

Was it always so hard to like someone? To fear that they will hurt you one day. Knowing that they will, that one day they will fit the pattern of everyone who’s hurt you before. 

The door to the bathroom opened and you turned your head, clicking off your phone screen and pasting a fake smile on your face. Spencer was wiping his hands on a towel, raising his eyebrows at you. However, before you could get one word out, he was walking over to the couch, a knowing look on his face. 

“I’m not going to hurt you like the others did,” Spencer said almost immediately. 

Liar, you thought. 

“I know,” You say instead and he frowned, knowing that you were lying, but not pushing you. 

You knew you would have to leave him first, before he would ever have that chance to hurt you. But it hurt already, knowing that you would have to hurt him. So, you endure the anxiety of knowing those patterns, just to try to sit with him and enjoy what little time you allowed yourself to have. 

But             if each day             each hour,             you feel that you are destined for me             with implacable sweetness,             if each day a flower             climbs up to your lips to seek me,             ah my love, ah my own,             in me all that fire is repeated,             in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,             my love feeds on your love, beloved,              and as long as you live it will be in your arms             without leaving mine.

Three more months later and you sat in his bathroom, the door locked, your arms shaking as you leaned over the sink, trying to quell the rising panic in your chest. But you couldn’t. He was sitting in his bedroom, after having told you he loved you for the first time. 

You couldn’t say it back. You tried. But all you could do was open your mouth and close it, fear flashing over your face. And before you knew it, you had stood up and left him sitting there, watching you as you ran into his bathroom, shut the door, and locked it.

It hurt, knowing that you loved him back and yet you couldn’t say it back. It was wrong with you. Something that hurt, hurt more than the constriction of anxiety around your heart, gripping it with such force that it hurt to breathe. The pain in your chest, in your gut, the twist of each anxious thought, of each piece of truth that you weaved for yourself, and the knowledge that you needed to leave. 

Hot tears fell from your eyes, large drops finally streaming down your cheeks. 

And a knock on the door. You flinched at the tentative sound, the perpetrator obviously nervous. 

“Hey,” Spencer’s voice called out softly. “I-I know this is hard for you, you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted to tell you.” He was begging. Not truly begging with words, but with his tone for you to understand him. 

How could you tell him that it was the fact that you loved him back that was causing this? You didn’t know how, but you knew that by the blurring of your vision that you were crying even harder. Barely any noise but choked gasps left you, your body trying to get air into your lungs as you held your breath from the fear of everything crashing down. 

“Can you open the door?” Spencer’s voice was quiet, meek. He was begging his time. 

Slowly, with all your strength, you turned the short distance and shakily unlocked it. That was all you could do before you sat on the floor and backed up until your lower back hit the bathtub. Your knees hit your chest, and you hugged them tightly, pressing your forehead into your knees. 

The door slowly opened but didn’t shut. He was giving you a way out if you needed it. It was obvious. Soft footsteps inched towards you and stopped just in front of your shaking body.

“You don’t have to say it back,” He whispered. 

It took a while for you to be able to regulate your breathing and emotions. Slowly, you managed to uncoil your body just enough to peek up at him. Spencer was crouched in front of you, his eyes facing down, hands clasped in front of his own knees. 

“I—” You hiccupped, flinching as he looked up at you. You forced yourself to keep talking, “I love you.” You finally whispered, his eyes widening before he schooled his expression. 

“I know that already, that’s why you didn’t have to say it back,” He leaned forward, gently rubbing the knuckles on one of the hands gripping your knees. “I’m not going to abandon you or hurt you that way you had been hurt in the past. You’re…” He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing as he licked his lips, glancing down and then back up at you with glistening eyes. “You won’t believe me, but I don’t care how many times I will have to say it to get past your traumatic past, to get past the words of those who hurt you in the past.” He squeezed the hand he managed to pry from your knees. “I love you, and I’m not just going to leave.” 

Was it the wind that blew through the trees or the singing of birds that caught your eye? Or was it the first time that you had a partner on Valentine’s Day that kept your thought’s light, now able to appreciate the little things this life had to offer you. 

Maybe, it was Spencer. Spencer and the bouquet of flowers he held out to you, on the other side of the register in your empty bookstore. 

It wasn’t a Tuesday. 

But that didn’t matter. 

Forget Me Nots adorned your living room that night in a pale yellow vase. 

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Word Count: 1,991

Posted one: 1/25/2025

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVING MY CONTENT POSTED BY OTHERS UNLESS SHARED ON TUMBLR THROUGH REPOSTING MY ORIGINAL WORK. DO NOT USE MY WORK FOR AI TRAINING.

References:

Neruda, P. (n.d.). If You Forget Me. allpoetry.com. https://allpoetry.com/if-you-forget-me

[impossible-rat-babies]

I’m still thinking about that “you promised” “I know” post

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