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bucketbueckers · 17 hours ago

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I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER SIX

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

‘The Hard Launch Heard Around the World’

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

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

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

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

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

JULY 2023

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

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

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

Then July hit.

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

July was when summer practices started back up. Paige flew back to Storrs the first week. Tess was supposed to fly back to Columbia, but given her injury and the fact she wouldn’t be able to contribute much to practices, Coach Staley gave her the all-clear to stay in Brooklyn and soak up as much PT with Terri as she could. Craig was qualified, although the both of them knew Terri had a different approach to rehab than Craig did.

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

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

She’s so fucked.

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

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

[Delivered: 4:32pm]

Are you okay?

[Read: 7:53pm]

sorry, busy tn idk if i can

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

idk got a lot going on

Okay Call me when you can

[Delivered: 7:54pm]

Tess feels like she’s going to throw up.

AUGUST 2023

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

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

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

Still, Paige tries.

You busy?

[Delivered, 5:43pm]

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

[Delivered: 6:38pm]

[Read: 9:01pm]

sorry. just got free

It’s okay FT? Can’t sleep

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

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

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

Me too

[Read: 9:03pm]

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

[Read: 9:04pm]

SEPTEMBER 2023

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

Paige texts her once in September.

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

[Delivered: 2:48am]

OCTOBER 2023

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

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

Tess wonders if she fucked them up for good.

Maybe it’s better this way.

NOVEMBER 2023

Ghosting Paige wasn’t the right decision at all.

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

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

Happy birthday

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

thank you

[Delivered: 11:11am]

[Read: 11:11am]

And much to her surprise, Paige responds.

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

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

you want me there after these last five months?

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

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

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

i’ll be there

Okay 👍

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

you didn’t have to buy my tickets

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

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

NOVEMBER 22, 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, let’s not keep her waiting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something funny?” Paige asks.

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

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

“You don’t–”

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

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

Dinner that night is a torrid affair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOVEMBER 23, 2023

Thanksgiving is a terrible holiday.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s right.”

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

“Do they?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we–”

“Do you–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Paige Madison!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not the word I’d use–”

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

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

“I am.”

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

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

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

“Paige,” Tess says again. “Please?”

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

“Tess,” Paige says.

“Yes, Paige?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DECEMBER 2023

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

Wouldn’t miss it for the world

okay let me email you the tickets

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

i could be persuaded

Say less [1 Attachment]

that’s a picture of dunkin donuts

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

you drive a hard bargain 🤔 can you upsell?

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

not really

Bruh Tess PLEASE do not make me take an Uber

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

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

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

Alone? 🫦

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

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

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

Can’t wait 🫶

DECEMBER 29, 2023

Tess is nervous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close enough?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tess smiles. “Are you finished?”

“No!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Paige–”

“Open it, ma.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DECEMBER 30, 2023

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is not Christmas –”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to wear a dress.”

“Then wear one?”

“It’ll be cold!”

“Bring a sweater.”

“And ruin the fit?” Tess grumbles.

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

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

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

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

“Damn,” she deadpans. “Caught me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love.

Tess loves Paige Bueckers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

10…

9…

8…

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

7…

6…

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

5…

4…

“Paige.”

“Yeah?”

3…

2…

“Please stop talking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All quiet now, huh?” Paige goads.

“Paige–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Off, Paige, please,” Tess requests.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We should probably clean up,” Paige suggests.

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

Paige laughs smugly. “Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x oc #uconn #uconn wbb #ncaa wbb #paige bueckers smut

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sflow-er · 2 days ago

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Henry and Simon’s dynamic over the three seasons

For YR Faves Fest 2024 organised by @youngroyals-events Prompts: 2. Favourite teen side character (+ 7. Favourite not-quite friendship)

In one of my replies to the recent side character ask game, I briefly mentioned being partial to the dynamic between these two. So for this Faves Fest, I decided to elaborate with an analysis post (featuring screenshots of variable quality)!

I want to preface this with a brief acknowledgment of Henry’s privilege and classism. It is not my intention to diminish them. I do, however, feel that it’s a bit apples-to-oranges to compare them to Simon’s views (citrus pun intended). 🍊 is politically active and has put in the effort to form his own beliefs, while 🍏 shows us time and again that he is ignorant of the world outside the elite bubble and not inclined towards deep reflection. He is largely a product of his upbringing and the (liberal conservative) values imparted by his parents.

While Henry doesn’t grow enough to change his core views and values in the canon timeline, he does change his views on Simon. This isn’t enough progress for them to become actual friends before we leave off (I doubt Simon could be friends with someone who only exempts him), but I would still argue that they end the show on amicable terms.

And yes, I mean that in a mutual sense, even if Simon doesn’t soften towards Henry quite as much as Henry softens towards him!

So, let’s dive in!

Dialogue taken from the English CC and [abbreviated or corrected].

1.01: the tax debate

Henry: “Take my dad’s estate, for example. They’re struggling to make ends meet because of the high taxes.” [Simon chuckles and explains his views] Simon: “Like your dad. [Do you know how much he gets in EU subsidies every year]”? Henry: “And what the fuck does your dad do?”

Like most viewers, I find it a lot easier to relate to Simon’s views than Henry’s here – but I do think Henry often gets judged quite harshly for insulting Simon at the end. His comment does not come out of nowhere (cf. Stella’s unprompted dirty look at Simon and Sara when she talks about welfare scamming).

Henry only knows that his father has said their estate is struggling, so of course he won’t take kindly to Simon suggesting that they are actually getting undeserved subsidies instead. It’s also important to note that this estate isn’t just any old farm. It was granted to one of his ancestors as a reward for their services to the Crown, which makes it a core part of his family history. As we learn in 1.04, Henry is a Society boy and very proud of his noble ancestry, and Simon’s comment likely feels like an insult to his entire family. So although his retort is unquestionably rude, it is understandable that he lashes out.

Also, Henry has no way of knowing that Micke is a deadbeat. He is just applying a common stereotype (and potentially making assumptions based on the views Simon just expressed on welfare).

1.02: parallel but separate experiences

Early in this episode, we see Simon side-eye Henry and Walter for the paid tutoring. He decides to follow their example, but as we know he can’t actually afford it, we can already guess it won’t go as well for him as it did for them.

Next, we see Henry in the group as the rowing team ignores Simon at morning training. The camera also pans to him and Walter when August gives that bizarre speech about Simon’s class journey.

These moments highlight how different life at Hillerska (and beyond) looks for Henry and Simon. They are technically coexisting and even doing the same things, but their experiences are nothing alike.

However, there is also some potential for development here. August’s words about rowing bringing people together (and also about the class journey) should absolutely be taken with a heap of salt, but as we no longer see any open animosity between Henry and Simon, we can still wonder if rowing played a part.

Being on the same sports team is an entirely new frame of reference for these guys. They are no longer just the sosse and aristocrat who have been going to school together since pre-canon and clashing over their views; they are crewmates. They may be able to ignore each other for most of the time, but they may also have to do some team activities or even cooperate on occasion. At the very least, they will be around each other several extra times a week from late September/early October to Christmas break. This could definitely help to put them on more neutral ground.

1.05: Henry pays attention to Wilmon

In this episode, Henry learns more about Wilmon than the average Hillerska student. He is present when August tells the Society that Wille and Simon “hang out”, and also when Wille changes the plan from Simon to Alexander.

What’s more, he actually looks fairly thoughtful leaving that last meeting. We don’t know if it’s just shock over Wille’s ruthlessness, if he’s thinking about the plan to set up Alexander, or if there’s something else on his mind.

Now, this may veer into overinterpretation, but for the sake of thoroughness, let’s also include the blink and you’ll miss it moment before the Lucia procession where Henry notices Wilmon texting each other. In this cropped screenshot, you can see him looking at Simon, who has just put his phone down and is looking over at Wille.

1.06: Henry shows restraint

As we know, Henry is the only classmate who tries to treat Wille normally after the video, asking if he “saw the match yesterday” (he absolutely knows Wille didn’t). What is perhaps less noticeable is that he also shows more restraint than most of his schoolmates when the rumour mill gets going.

In this scene, Henry is pretty dispassionate reminding Walter that Wilmon sat next to each other at movie night and the two of them talked about it. There is a stark contrast to Walter, who absolutely pounces on that bit of gossip.

That one quick scene could just be a coincidence, but the same thing happens when Wilmon return to school. Instead of engaging with the others who are all eagerly talking and whispering, Henry is already sitting at his desk minding his own business when Wille arrives. His only reaction to Simon showing up is this quick look, which is immediately followed by his show of kindness to Wille:

So the restraint does look very intentional.

As an aristocrat, monarchist and Society boy, Henry is loyal to Wille, who he now knows has been carrying on with Simon for a while already. He also knows how far Wille went to protect Simon, despite the fact that Simon had actually supplied the drugs, so he is going to side with Wille.

What’s more, Henry’s behaviour in these scenes also confirms that he isn’t hostile to Simon. We can surmise he probably doesn’t think Simon is the most appropriate choice of partner for the crown prince, but he is willing to take his cues from Wille. We never see him sneer, joke, or say anything nasty about Wilmon as a couple (cf. Stella and Fredrika joking about surrogacy).

We are also shown his reaction to Wille hugging Simon before we move on to season two.

2.02: the floorball hug and walk-by

The first interaction between Henry and Simon in S2 is them celebrating a floorball goal with a spontaneous hug, as seen at the top of this post. What a difference a term makes!

Now, I don’t think this moment is meant to signify that they are friends all of a sudden, and I do feel it comes slightly out of the blue. I suspect it was included as a nod to those who already liked Henry after S1, but I for one would’ve preferred to actually see their reconciliation.

But then again, if their initial antagonism was always class conflict rather than personal beef, maybe there was no need for apologies…? Maybe each of them just accepted that the other was going to be around and decided to try and get along (potentially aided by their shared rowing team history)? Henry is following Wille’s lead as we already saw – and as for Simon, I doubt he would be hugging Henry even in the heat of a game if he held a grudge. Whether we saw it or not, they have moved on.

In the same episode, we also have the locker room scene.

Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t believe Henry actually overhears the entire conversation, but he may have still heard something about them having to wait two years (as Simon did raise his voice for that). It’s also possible he comes out of this scene assuming that Wilmon still “hang out” in secret. In any case, he probably assumes that Wille wants to keep the whole thing quiet, as per the usual “policy” on queer relationships among the upper classes. In addition to his monarchist ways, he also seems to be casually friendly with Wille in S2 (keeps inviting him to do stuff, from coffee to pranking Sprucewood). So it makes a lot of sense for him to keep whatever he overhears or suspects to himself.

2.03, 2.05 and 2.06: book report scenes

While Henry must be a nightmare to have in the group, he and Simon are nice to each other in all the book report scenes. This is further proof that they are in a place where they can talk civilly and even work together.

They start the project before the rowing race and only present it the day before the gun range scene, which means they had these group sessions for at least a few weeks (the timeline is a bit wonky here).

2.04: Henry snitches on Wille and Felice

The lunch scene at the start of the episode starts with this bit of vicarious interaction, as Henry and Simon (and Wille too) are amused by the nonsense Walter is spouting about girls:

Also, Walter's monologue feels more comphet every time rewatch it, but I digress.

As this post is focused on Henry and Simon, I’m not going to dig too deep into Henry’s role in spreading the story about Wille and Felice. Suffice it to say that he did tell his canonically gossipy bestie Walter, and it was recently pointed out to me that he seems to have let something slip to someone else as well. In the common room, Walter goes “det var du som sa till…” [you were the one who said to…] just as the focus shifts to Wille and Nils, which suggests that Henry either purposely told someone or misspoke without realising it. The latter would explain why he seems genuinely appalled when Wille confronts him, but it’s not a hill I’d be willing to die on!

If Henry did spread the story on purpose, I assume it was because getting with Felice was considered a credit to Wille and also “fair game” to tell, unlike the relationship with Simon that Wille wanted to keep hidden.

Still, Henry and Simon are definitely on better terms in S2. Even though Henry inadvertently causes pain to Simon with his part in the Wille and Felice thing, they still keep working together on the book report without any animosity.

Insofar as Henry’s lacklustre effort can be called working. Simon is a bigger person than I am for not blowing up at him when he announces minutes before the presentation that he won’t be taking any questions.

3.01: background Henry

We start S3 off with this one-sided interaction where Henry reacts to Wilmon kissing with a mild smirk. No more waiting or secrets to keep.

3.02: double standards on the camping trip

It’s not entirely clear what Henry is thinking when he says the infamous line about gay couples being allowed to share but not straight ones. I think some people read it as him deliberately putting Wilmon on the spot, but personally, I doubt he even realises it’s going to make them uncomfortable. He’s just noticing the double standard and pointing it out to mess with the teacher.

While Simon is very clearly not pleased with Henry for the comment (glares at him while saying to Wille that people are going to think they plan to have sex), he does not seem to hold that against him. Because what we do see them doing soon?

Sitting next to each other by the fire, even though Henry could’ve easily sat with Walter and Simon with Wille:

Also, it seems Henry isn't new to camping, as he tells Wille that part of the fire is too hot to grill a sausage in.

The part where things get interesting is when Henry acts classist towards the Marieberg students.

Henry seems to be down with meeting Rosh and Ayub, who are there as Wille and Simon’s friends. But after Fredrika brings up New York, he agrees that the situation turned “stiff as fuck.” That stiffness was entirely Fredrika’s fault (I think she is at least semi-consciously trying to mark herself as the most compatible partner for Stella there), but Henry seems to feel it was more about Rosh and Ayub not fitting in.

He also sneers and makes nasty comments when the other Marieberg students get into an altercation with Malin, which elicits a frown from Simon.

And yet, Simon does not condemn Henry as strongly as he might have done in the past.

Importantly, Simon tells Wille “it wasn’t the right time for everyone to meet.” This indicates that he could’ve imagined them all getting along at a better time, and it’s pretty clear that also includes Henry. Furthermore, “you [meaning Wille and the others] don’t realise how privileged you are sometimes” is actually a pretty neutral way of putting it. Simon would have been entirely justified if he had said the others were classist pricks, but he blames their privilege and lack of understanding instead of their character.

All of this forms a backdrop for my interpretation of the scenes in the next episodes.

3.03: First of May

Simon: “You do know that you’re not off so you can party the day before, right?” Henry: “Uhh…what?” Simon: “It’s the First of May.” […] “The day of the labour movement?” Henry: “Okay, so what’s their style? How do they celebrate?” Simon, scoffing: “You don’t celebrate. You demonstrate.” [Henry and Walter share a chuckle]

This may be a controversial take, but I don’t think Henry is being particularly nasty to Simon here.

He actually looks and sounds quite sincere asking how the labour movement celebrates. When he and Walter laugh, it reads more as “there he goes again, our very own sosse, saying wacky things!” than the kind of disdain he expressed towards the Marieberg students in the last episode.

Simon also doesn’t take the laughter as an insult; he’s just stupefied by their ignorance. Also, note that he already scoffed at Henry’s question, marking the question as silly.

This exchange is immediately followed by Vincent attacking Simon for his beliefs, which feels like an intentional trick to create contrast between his and Walty’s treatment of Simon.

3.04: the lollipop

In this scene, Henry starts out asking quite nicely and seriously if Simon has another lollipop, as if they had that kind of rapport. Simon makes a face, but then he just shakes his head and nicely says no. It’s only then that Henry switches to offering money for the already half-eaten lollipop, to which Simon reacts with disbelief.

He does not, however, get snarky with Henry. He settles for exchanging a look with Wille as Walty go on to complain about the hunger strike. Only when Henry isn’t present anymore does he point out to Wille how ridiculous Henry was being.

In a sort of parallel to the lunch scene, Simon and Wille now share a chuckle at the wacky thing Henry said:

Feel free to disagree, but I actually wonder if this could be a common pattern between Simon and Henry. They have accepted that they aren’t going to see eye to eye on many things, but instead of getting into conflict, they just roll their eyes/laugh at how the other can seriously believe/say such things. Then they let the conversation move on to something else.

Which is a perfectly valid dynamic. They can acknowledge that their outlooks on life are wildly different without hating each other for it.

3:06: Henry includes Simon

Look, I dislike the library scene as much as the next person. The talk that Henry interrupts between Wilmon was so much more important than anything he could possibly say. It was just a moment of comic relief that didn’t add anything to the story.

Except… Now that we are tracing Henry and Simon’s “not-quite friendship” arc, this scene does give us a conclusion.

Henry: “Hi! Uh, what are you wearing tonight?” [He rambles on about clothes] Wille: “I don’t know if… If I’m coming.” Henry: “Okay…?” Simon: “I don’t know if I can come either.” Henry: “Oh come on, you two have to come!” [He rambles on about how much fun it will be] Simon: “Yeah, we’ll see. I have to go now.” Henry: “The point is that we have to be together! This is the only night we have together, maybe ever. [I mean, we are brothers!]”

In Swedish, Henry goes “vi är ju bröder” just as the music starts. This has been translated to “we are like brothers” in the English CC, which is already quite something, but the little word ju makes the original even stronger. It means that something is true, so instead of just saying they are like brothers, Henry is saying that is what they are.

(In the dub, there is an audible pause after like, so Henry is actually using it as a filler word. They should have put a comma in the CC to denote that.)

Given that Henry prefaces this ramble with “you two have to come” and barely stops to acknowledge Simon’s exit, there’s every reason to assume he is still talking about all of them. He is saying he considers himself, Wille, and also Simon part of the brotherhood that will be disbanded indefinitely come morning and wants them all to have one last night of fun together.

Simon never hears the brothers part and is of course frustrated with Henry for interrupting, but he still takes his leave on a casually friendly note. He gets that Henry wants him to come and have fun (Henry is unaware that Simon doesn’t drink when he tries to persuade them by talking about the alcohol). Thus, Simon politely says “we will see” even though he has zero intention of going.

We do not see them interact at the party when Simon goes after all, but we do hear Henry being ushered away when Simon comes to talk to Wille. We don’t see it’s Henry, but someone insists that he wants to stay just as Walter and Alexander leave, and all three of them were there moments before:

I’m tempted to end this with a parallel to Wille’s initiation party.

Way back in 1.01, Henry and Simon were explicitly shown discussing the first party with their friends. They never talked about it with each other or interacted there – Henry attended as part of the in-crowd, and Simon only got to go because he procured the alcohol. But for this last party, it’s Henry who has procured the alcohol, and he specifically invites Simon to come. They still don’t hang out as they are both there with their respective friends, i.e. in their own bubbles, but those bubbles do bump into/brush past one another without clashing.

Kind of like Henry and Simon’s lives.

Thank you for reading this marathon post! I hope my take on these two brings something to your next rewatch, whether you agree with me or not!

#young royals #henry young royals #simon eriksson #young royals analysis #henry and simon #yr faves fest #yr events #YRFavesFest2024 #long post #with pictures!#wish i had the energy to write something new about these two #scheduled post #young royals meta

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 days ago

Note

same anon from the ace UM submission here HELLOOOO I JUST FELL TO MY KNEESSSSS imagine malleus in a fit lashes out because how could they understand the isolation he feels and it just forces ace to confront his own feelings. imagine the final confrontation he straightens malleus out in the usual way that he does considering ace also has a track record of setting people straight (like with riddle and in phantom bride) "just talk to them and let them know how you feel" "stop carrying all these feelings to yourself" his own words probably also came from somewhere deep inside of him that he refuses to face but it just comes up to the surface because he sees himself in malleus. pretty ironic that he'll be calling out malleus when hes doing the exact same. it would give ace the development that ppl say hes been lacking compared to the other charas who all had some kind of further development like the other first years for example

think of post ob where after the dust settled they just return back to their respective loved ones and finally having to come clean about their emotions once and for all.

i just want an emotionally vulnerable scene for ace, mister allergic to facing his emotions, trappola even if its just a side moment that gets overshadowed later HHHH

[Referencing this post!]

*nodnod* Malleus is arrogant and desperate enough to think that no one could possibly relate to these tumultuous emotions of his. It’d be so fitting for Ace to confront him (and, by extension, his own feelings)—because not only does Ace have a track record of speaking out against others, but he has spoken out against Malleus before in Endless Halloween Night. In fact, he was the ONLY character to continue harping on the guy after everyone else basically forgave him. Ironically, that event was also the one that foreshadowed Malleus’s ability to stop time (which is true of the space contained in his briar barrier). And it all comes full circle…

For Malleus, I feel like him verbalizing his feelings isn’t really the main struggle. He seems to lack the awareness of what he’s feeling in the first place, as he doesn’t realize he’s lonely until Yuu points it out to him in 7-18. Later in 7-29, Malleus speaks openly with Silver about how powerless he feels to stop his subjects from feeling sorrow. It’s true that he has a tendency to project his feelings onto others (hence forcing everyone into happy dreams to avoid reality), but unfortunately projecting is not necessarily the same as empathizing. Rarely does Malleus do the legwork to truly understand others on an intimate level. I think that projection is a function of how Malleus understands and interacts with the world since this is something he does even when he’s not being overly emotional. For example, in his own Dorm Uniform vignettes he thinks it would be easier to bring everyone to him (so as to not miss a dorm meeting) even though this act of magic is considered highly rude by other mages. He does communicate his feelings, albeit sometimes via talking in circles or vaguely—namely in how he speaks with Yuu, sharing stories about his past (in book 7) or sharing about gargoyles to impart advice on how to overcome adversity (in book 3). More blatantly, he declares his intentions to Lilia before sentencing everyone to sleep in 7-37: “Not losing you!”

I also think… to some extent, Lilia already understands how Malleus might feel if he leaves. I get the sense that Lilia was in such a rush to go in the same way that you’d want to rip off a band-aid quickly. The more you prolong it, the worse the pain will be, that kind of logic. And before he intended to depart, Lilia tried to set things up so that Malleus would still be in good hands—inviting him to the farewell party, making sure people from all the dorms were there (perhaps so that Malleus can make new friends).

Malleus could more clearly state his feelings, sure. But I think the true root of the problem isn’t him not communicating—because even if he did so more openly, what would that resolve exactly? Time still moves forward, change still happens, his loved ones still leave him. It might be emotionally cathartic for Malleus, but ultimately he’s still left feeling lonely. The challenge for him is less putting his thoughts into words and more him learning to accept these life-altering changes instead of fighting or resisting them.

I still think that Ace could relate to Malleus in this regard, especially if they call back to 7-17, in which Ace cheerily redirects the conversation. While Deuce, Grim, and even Yuu discuss changes to their lives come summer break (going to the next grade, changing classes, Grim staying at school on his own, not being able to study together anymore), Ace challenges them with lines like, "C'mon, why do you guys have to get all mopey?", "[...] no need to join the mope patrol", " I declare Mopefest officially over!", and, "Frankly, I'm still skeptical any of this is gonna help us figure out a way to send [Yuu] home." It registers as Ace being in denial about the events about to unfold and coping by reassuring others by distracting them (when that reassurance is also aimed at himself), Ace is dishonest with himself and instead redirects those efforts to calling out others, which makes him come off as too mean or pushy even with his own friends (particularly Deuce). It would be nice to get an arc about him learning to be more vulnerable with his own emotions and better understanding those of others.

I get the feeling that Ace will get most of his actual character development and tearful reunion with Deuce, Yuu, and Grim within his own dream rather than in the final battle (the timing of the latter would just be odd). Hopefully Ace's dream written well since he's the last first year to be woken up. Save the best for last, you know?

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #Ace Trappola #Malleus Draconia #notes from the writing raven #endless halloween night spoilers #Yuu #Silver #Lilia Vanrouge #book 7 spoilers #Malleus dorm uniform vignette spoilers #Grim #Deuce Spade

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ang3lc · 7 hours ago

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the voices were whispering about poly!141 romancing a burlesque dancer!reader, this was a lot fluffier than i intended it to be, but here are some thots...

﹥ simon first sees you at a performance he’s dragged to, fully expecting to be unimpressed.

﹥ the second you step on stage, he’s captivated—not just by how you move, but by the power and command you radiate.

﹥ he becomes a quiet regular at your shows, always sitting in the shadows, watching intently. no cheers or whistles, just the unwavering focus of a man completely in awe. no, that's not drool on his balaclava, what are you on about?

﹥ when he finally speaks to you backstage, it’s brief but genuine: “you were brilliant out there,” his presence lingers long after he’s gone.

﹥ simon shows his care in subtle ways, like walking you to your car or standing by when someone gets too pushy after a performance.

﹥ his intensity can be overwhelming, but his quiet reverence makes you feel seen like no one else ever has.

﹥ johnny is the loudest, most shameless fan in the crowd, whistling and cheering without a hint of restraint.

﹥ when you glance his way mid-performance, he gives you a cheeky wink that’s more charming than annoying.

﹥ after your first show, he’s waiting backstage with an absurdly large bouquet of flowers and a grin that could light up a room.

﹥ he shows up to every performance after that, leaving little notes and even bringing snacks to win over your crew just to have an excuse to be around.

﹥ when you’re stressed, johnny knows exactly how to pull you out of your funk, whether it’s cracking the worst jokes you have ever heard or reminding you why you’re amazing.

﹥ his energy is infectious, and while he’s a goof most of the time, his loyalty and admiration for you run deep.

﹥ kyle notices you for your confidence onstage, but it’s the person you are offstage that truly hooks him.

﹥ his first interaction with you is understated—a warm smile and a thoughtful question about your routine that catches you off guard with its sincerity.

﹥ he doesn’t overwhelm you with attention but instead takes the time to understand your world, asking about your inspirations and the work behind each performance.

﹥ kyle’s gestures are small but meaningful: bringing you tea (or coffee, if you prefer. either way, it's just right.) during long rehearsals, sharing playlists he made just for you, or songs he think you should dance to (in private, though it's too soon to admit he wants that)

﹥ he’s the steady presence in your life, always knowing when to step in and when to give you space.

﹥ watching your shows, his pride is quiet but palpable, his gaze full of admiration that makes your heart race. when he sees you nail a move you were struggling with at rehearsals, he knows to reward you later.

﹥ john isn’t the type to fall easily, but something about you draws him in—your grace, your confidence, your unapologetic authenticity.

﹥ he doesn’t approach you immediately, choosing instead to observe, waiting for the right moment to move on you.

﹥ when he finally does, his words are simple yet deliberate: “you’ve got a way of commanding a room.” there’s a weight to them that makes you realize he sees you.

﹥ john is the one who steps in when things get chaotic, offering calm solutions and unwavering support. a strong hand to guide you.

﹥ he’s protective without being overbearing, ensuring you’re taken care of without trying to control your life.

﹥ his affection reveals itself in quiet moments—holding your hand late at night, his voice low and rough against your ear as he confesses how much you mean to him.

﹥ together, the four of them create a healthy mix of support and chaos that makes your world feel complete.

﹥ simon ensures you always have a safe place to land, offering strength and stability.

﹥ johnny is the light that chases away any shadows, making you laugh even when you think you can’t.

﹥ kyle notices the little things, ensuring you’re always cared for in ways that matter most.

﹥ john is the anchor, grounding you with his steady presence and unwavering reliability.

﹥ they tease each other constantly—johnny and kyle competing to cheer the loudest at your shows while simon mutters about “bloody fools” in the corner, john's too lost in the way your hips move to care about any of their rambling.

when the spotlight fades and it’s just the five of you, you feel surrounded by a warmth that makes you realize you’ve found your permanent home—in their arms, in their hearts.

mlist | @honestlymassivetrash

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cmdrfupa · 2 days ago

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Home For The Holidays

I’ve been working on the last chapter but Tis the season! I hope the holiday is kind to you all. Love you much 💞💞🎄🎁

Stand alone but part of the Upheaval AU.

Post Shibuya Nanami x Reader

The faint scent of cinnamon reached him first, pulling him from restless dreams. He blinked up at the ceiling, the familiar texture barely visible in the soft morning light. Kento was home now—after months in the hospital, the sterile white walls and endless beeping monitors were behind him. And yet, the weight of it hadn’t lifted.

Shifting carefully, he pushed himself upright, wincing as the tightness in his arms and chest reminded him of the scars. They were always reminding him. The knit cardigan you’d left on the chair caught his eye, its loose fabric promising some comfort, even if it couldn’t hide everything. He slipped it only slowly, careful of the settling grafts that were integrating with the skin.

The smell grew stronger as he made his way to the door, one slow step at a time. His hand brushed the wall for balance, the cool plaster grounding him. Cinnamon… and something else. Pine, maybe? “Honey?”

When he reached the top of the stairs, he froze.

Golden light danced across the walls, spilling into the hallway from the living room below. He gripped the banister, leaning forward to catch a glimpse, and what he saw made his breath hitch.

The room was transformed. A tree stood in the corner, its branches draped with twinkling lights and ornaments he remembered from years past. Stockings hung from the mantle, both your names stitched in soft loops.

His eyes landed on the small chalkboard near the stockings, the words written in your careful hand: *Welcome Home.*

The warmth of it all—so gentle, so thoughtful—made his chest tighten. But it wasn’t comfort he felt. It was guilt, rising fast and sharp. You had done this for him, spent hours creating this perfect scene after tending to him at every turn and for what? He hadn’t even wanted to leave the bedroom this morning, let alone face a holiday that felt so far removed from who he was now.

He took another step down, hesitating halfway as the sound of movement came from the kitchen. You appeared, a smudge of flour on your cheek with a small stack of waffles already forming on the counter near you.

You stopped when you saw him, lips curving into a small, hesitant smile.

“You’re awake,” you spoke softly, setting down the whisk you’d been holding. Your gaze flicked to the tree and the lights in the living room, then back to him. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for it, but…” you trailed off, gesturing toward the room.

Kento opened his mouth but found his voice caught somewhere in his throat. He shook his head. “You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

“I know, I know..” you replied, stepping closer. “But I wanted to. And we’ve gotta eat so…”

He looked at you, at the effort you’d poured into every detail, and the guilt twisted deeper. “I don’t… I don’t deserve this, dove.” His voice cracked, and he looked away. “Not after—”

“Stop.” You voiced, soft but firm, pulling his gaze back to you.

You stepped closer, your heart breaking at the pain etched across Kento’s face. His scars were visible, yes, but it was the ones inside that worried you most.

“Kento,” you said gently, reaching out to brush your fingers against his hand. He flinched at first, but you didn’t pull away. “This isn’t about deserving anything. This is about celebrating the holiday. Celebrating the ending of another year while welcoming a new one. It’s about us.”

His eyes searched yours, guarded and uncertain, but you didn’t look away. “I know this isn’t easy,” you continued, your voice steady. “But this is still our home. You’re still you. And no matter how much you might feel like things have changed, there are some things that are remaining the same.”

The silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t empty. Slowly, his hand relaxed beneath yours, his grip tentative but real. You squeezed lightly, a silent reassurance. “I have cookies baked and ready for munching. Waffles are hot and ready for your favorite berry syrup and when you’re ready, the French press is set up in the living room for a strong cup. Okay?”

Kento quietly led you to the couch and sat you down before sitting next to you.

The glow of the tree wrapped around you like a soft embrace. He picked up the santa mug and smiled. “If you don’t mind.”

You poured his coffee, watching as he held it carefully, his shoulders beginning to ease. The faint scent of cinnamon lingered in the air, blending with the quiet sound of the lights humming on the tree.

It wasn’t perfect, and it didn’t need to be. For now, this was enough.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami drabbles #nanami x you #nanami x reader #jjk x reader

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hookhausenschips · 1 day ago

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The Edge of Defiance

Chapter 6 of The Game Of Seduction

Navigation

Summary: In this chapter, Y/N grows restless in the quiet monotony of recovery at Lando's condo, feeling trapped by her circumstances and eager to regain her autonomy. Despite Lando's protective objections and concerns about her physical readiness and the condition of her apartment, Y/N firmly asserts her independence, leading to a tense confrontation that underscores their conflicting perspectives and the unspoken complexities of their relationship. Their argument is laced with unresolved tension, past trauma, and Y/N’s determination to reclaim control over her life, even as Lando’s care reveals deeper layers of concern and possibly unacknowledged feelings.

WC: 4.9k

Warnings: Mafia Dealings, Emotional Confrontation, References to Violence or Trauma, Injury/Recovery, Conflict in Relationships

Taglist

• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

It had been nearly a week since the fight with Malik, and the tension in Lando’s condo had finally begun to ease. Y/N was healing, her injuries no longer the sharp reminders they had been but now dull aches she could tolerate.

The days had fallen into a quiet rhythm: meals shared in silence, brief moments of conversation, and the occasional sharp glance from Lando when she pushed herself too hard.

But Y/N wasn’t built for stillness, and she could feel the walls closing in on her.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the couch, absently picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of her hoodie. Across the room, Lando was leaning against the kitchen counter, his gaze fixed on her like he was waiting for her to drop some kind of bombshell.

“I’m going back to my apartment,” Y/N said abruptly, breaking the silence.

Lando’s brow furrowed, his posture stiffening. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” she replied, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “I’ve been here long enough. It’s time to go back to my own place.”

He crossed his arms, his expression darkening. “You’re not ready for that.”

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Ready? I didn’t realize I needed permission to live in my own damn apartment.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Lando said, his voice dropping. “You’re still recovering, and your place is barely livable. What’s the rush?”

“The rush,” Y/N said, standing now, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “is that I have my own place. And in case you forgot, I’m not dating you, I haven’t moved in here, and I don’t intend to. This has been... cozy, but I’ve got my own space, and I want it back.”

---

She had a way of making every logical argument sound ridiculous, and it drove me insane.

“This isn’t about you staying here,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s about making sure you’re safe. You’re still hurt, Y/N. And your apartment isn’t exactly secure.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag from the floor. “I appreciate the concern, Norris, but I’m not some damsel in distress. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it long before you showed up.”

Her words stung more than I cared to admit. “You think this is about me wanting to control you?”

She shot me a pointed look. “You’re blocking the door, aren’t you?”

I sighed, stepping aside reluctantly. “Fine. Do whatever you want. But don’t come crying to me when you realize this is a mistake.”

---

The ride to Y/N’s apartment was tense, neither of them saying much. Lando drove, his jaw tight as he navigated the city streets. Y/N stared out the window, her fingers tapping against her thigh in an erratic rhythm.

When they arrived, the building looked the same as always, but Y/N’s stomach twisted as she stepped out of the car.

Lando followed her to the door, his presence a quiet but heavy reminder of their earlier argument.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said as she unlocked the door.

“I know,” she replied without looking back. “But I want to.”

She pushed the door open and stepped inside.

---

The air inside was heavy, stale, and full of memories I didn’t want to deal with yet.

The living room was a mess—glass shards still glittered on the floor, and the splintered remains of the doorframe were a stark reminder of what had happened.

I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. This was my place. My chaos. I could fix it.

Behind me, Lando lingered in the doorway, his arms crossed as he surveyed the wreckage. “It’s worse than I thought.”

I glanced back at him, raising a brow. “You should’ve seen it before the first clean-up. It had a certain ‘post-apocalyptic charm.’”

He didn’t laugh, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” I said, walking further inside. “This is my space, Lando. I’m not letting Malik—or anyone else—take it away from me.”

---

Lando stepped inside cautiously, watching as Y/N began to pick up the broken pieces of her apartment.

She moved with purpose, her every action deliberate as she cleared the debris and set things right. But there was a tension in her shoulders, a weight she was trying to hide.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Lando said after a while, his voice quieter now.

Y/N looked at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I know. But I need to. This isn’t your fight, Lando. It never was.”

“It became my fight the moment you walked into my world,” he replied, his tone firm.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

---

It took hours to clean up the mess, but I felt better with every piece of glass I swept away and every overturned chair I set upright.

By the time I collapsed onto the couch, the apartment looked almost normal. It wasn’t perfect, but it was mine again.

Lando sat down on the armrest, his expression unreadable as he glanced around the room. “You’ve made progress.”

“Damn right, I have,” I said, leaning back with a tired smile. “And before you ask—no, I’m not moving back into your condo. This is my space.”

His lips twitched into the faintest smirk. “You’re nothing if not stubborn.”

“Takes one to know one,” I shot back.

---

Lando stood, his hands slipping into his pockets as he looked down at her. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re insane for coming back here so soon.”

“Noted,” Y/N replied with a grin.

“But,” he continued, his voice softening, “I’m glad you’re okay. And for the record, you don’t have to do everything on your own.”

Y/N’s smile faltered slightly, her tone losing its usual edge. “Thanks for helping me, Lando. I mean it.”

He nodded, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “Don’t mention it.”

As he turned to leave, Y/N watched him go, a faint warmth settling in her chest.

She wouldn’t admit it to him, but having him there—even for a little while—made her feel less alone.

---

Y/N waited until the sound of Lando’s car faded into the distance before pulling out her phone. She sat cross-legged on her couch, her fingers tapping against the edge of her phone case as she stared at Max’s name on the screen.

This wasn’t a call she wanted to make, but she didn’t have a choice.

With a resigned sigh, she tapped the screen and brought the phone to her ear.

It didn’t take long for Max to pick up.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said, skipping the pleasantries. “Too quiet.”

“Yeah, well,” Y/N replied, leaning back against the couch. “I’ve been busy handling my life.”

“Handling it or running from it?” Max asked, his tone sharp.

She rolled her eyes. “Do you have a point, or is this just a check-in to see if I’m still breathing?”

“I have your next mission,” Max said, cutting straight to the point.

Y/N’s posture stiffened, her fingers tightening around the phone. “Go on.”

---

“Mercedes and McLaren have been getting too cozy,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “We’ve been hearing whispers of a potential deal between them, something that could shift the balance in their favor. We need to know what it is.”

“And let me guess,” Y/N said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “You want me to find out.”

“Correct,” I replied. “There’s a warehouse near the docks, one of McLaren’s quieter operations. Our intel says there’s a file there—something that details the negotiations between McLaren and Mercedes. I need you to get it.”

She let out a low whistle. “Breaking into a McLaren warehouse? You really don’t like me, do you?”

“This isn’t personal,” I said, though we both knew that wasn’t entirely true. “It’s important. If they finalize this deal, it could set us back significantly.”

---

I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a slow breath. “And what’s the plan if I get caught? You going to swoop in and save me?”

“No,” Max said bluntly. “That’s why you’re not getting caught.”

“Great,” I muttered. “No pressure or anything.”

“You’re the best we’ve got, Y/N,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “That’s why you’re in this position. I wouldn’t send you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

I didn’t respond right away, my mind already running through the logistics. Breaking into a McLaren warehouse wasn’t just risky—it was reckless. But it was also the job, and I didn’t back down from challenges.

“Fine,” I said finally. “Send me the details.”

“You’ll have them within the hour,” Max replied. “And Y/N? Don’t let me down.”

I hung up without responding, tossing the phone onto the coffee table as I leaned back against the couch.

What the hell have I gotten myself into now?

---

True to his word, Max sent the details of the mission within the hour. Y/N studied the information carefully, her mind piecing together a plan as she packed a small bag with everything she’d need.

Her fingers hovered over the knife she’d taken from Lando’s office, the blade still sharp and pristine.

He’d lose his mind if he knew what I was doing.

The thought made her smirk, but it quickly faded as the weight of the mission settled over her. This wasn’t just about proving herself to Max or the Redbull family—it was about survival.

If she failed, it wasn’t just her cover that would be blown.

It was everything.

---

The warehouse was going to be heavily guarded—that much was obvious. McLaren didn’t do anything halfway, and if this file was as important as Max made it seem, they’d have people watching it.

I’d need to be fast, quiet, and—above all—careful.

I double-checked my gear, slipping the knife into its sheath and securing it at my hip. The pistol went into the holster at my back, concealed beneath the loose hoodie I wore.

The plan was risky, but I’d pulled off worse.

I just had to hope my luck held out.

---

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the city, Y/N stood by the window, her gaze fixed on the skyline. The city buzzed with life, oblivious to the chaos brewing beneath its surface.

Her phone buzzed again, a final message from Max:

We’re counting on you.

She stared at the words for a moment before deleting the message.

This wasn’t just about the Redbull family or their war with McLaren. This was about proving to herself that she could do this, that she could survive in a world where trust was a liability and weakness was a death sentence.

She grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

The night was just beginning, and Y/N was ready.

---

The air near the docks was sharp and biting, carrying the distinct tang of salt and oil. The warehouse loomed ahead, a hulking steel giant bathed in the glow of scattered floodlights. It was the kind of place that whispered secrets into the dark—if you knew how to listen.

Y/N crouched behind a stack of rusting shipping containers, her hood drawn low and her fingers gripping the hilt of her knife. Her breath was slow and steady, her eyes scanning the perimeter. Two guards stood by the main entrance, their postures lax, their focus minimal. A third patrolled along the side of the building, his flashlight swinging lazily.

She smirked to herself. Amateurs.

Sliding out from behind the container, she moved silently, her footsteps muffled by the damp ground. The side entrance was her target—an unmonitored door just outside the camera’s sweep.

Reaching the door, she pulled a slim lock-pick from her pocket and got to work. The lock clicked open in seconds, and she slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind her.

Inside, the air was cooler, tinged with the metallic scent of machinery. Rows of crates and pallets stretched out before her like a labyrinth, shadows dancing in the faint glow of overhead lights.

Y/N crouched, scanning the catwalks above for movement. A guard paced slowly, his flashlight cutting arcs through the shadows. She waited, counting his steps until he turned away, then darted between the crates.

The office was her destination, tucked into the far corner of the warehouse. Her intel said the file would be there—evidence of McLaren’s dealings with Mercedes. It was the kind of information that could shift the balance of power, and Y/N was here to claim it.

She moved with purpose, her steps deliberate and silent. Every corner, every sound was measured and assessed, her confidence unwavering. This was her domain—the shadows, the game of cat and mouse.

What she didn’t know was that she wasn’t alone.

---

The air near the docks was cold, heavy with the tang of salt and diesel. The warehouse loomed in the distance, its steel walls glinting faintly under the glow of scattered floodlights. A symphony of muffled machinery, distant waves, and occasional footsteps filled the silence.

Y/N crouched behind a stack of shipping containers, her figure hidden by the dark, unassuming clothes she wore—a simple black hoodie, cargo pants, and a mask that covered the lower half of her face. She’d chosen her attire carefully, ensuring that even if someone spotted her, they wouldn’t recognize her.

Her eyes scanned the perimeter. Two guards at the main entrance, another circling the building’s side, and one stationed near the back. Predictable. Easy.

She adjusted the strap of her bag, where her tools and a small weapon were tucked securely. This file better be worth it, Max, she thought, slipping into the shadows and toward the side entrance.

---

Breaking into a place like this wasn’t new to me.

I kept low, my movements silent as I reached the side door. The camera above it swept lazily across the area, its range limited. Timing its arc, I slipped into its blind spot and crouched by the lock.

Pulling out my lock-picking tools, I worked quickly. The mechanism was cheap—whoever set up security here didn’t expect professionals. Within seconds, the lock clicked open, and I pushed the door ajar, slipping inside.

The air inside was colder, the faint hum of machinery echoing through the vast space. Crates and pallets were stacked in neat rows, forming a maze that stretched out into the shadows. Overhead, metal catwalks crisscrossed the warehouse, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights.

I took a slow breath, letting the shadows settle over me like a second skin. The office was on the far side of the building, a small glass box elevated on a platform. That’s where the file would be.

---

I wasn’t supposed to be here.

Oscar had flagged the warehouse as a potential weak point in our operations, so I’d decided to check it out personally. It was quiet tonight, just a skeleton crew of guards. Exactly how I liked it—quick, efficient, and private.

From the catwalk above, I surveyed the floor, noting the layout and the guards’ routes. It all seemed routine until I spotted movement below.

Someone darted between the crates, their figure quick and silent, dressed in black from head to toe.

My body tensed, and my instincts kicked in. This wasn’t a worker or a guard.

An intruder.

I moved along the catwalk, keeping my distance as I tracked their movements. Whoever they were, they were good—calculated, confident, and precise.

But not invisible.

---

Breaking into a place like this wasn’t new to me.

---

The office door was locked—naturally—but locks were rarely a problem for me. I slipped the pick from my pocket and crouched by the door, working quickly.

The mechanism clicked, and I eased the door open, stepping inside and shutting it softly behind me.

The office was cramped, cluttered with papers, folders, and a desk piled high with files. A single computer sat in the corner, its screen locked but still glowing faintly.

I went straight for the filing cabinets, my hands moving efficiently through the drawers. Pens, invoices, shipment records—nothing useful.

It wasn’t until I reached the second drawer that I found it: a slim folder labeled with a cryptic code that matched Max’s intel.

I opened it briefly, my eyes scanning the contents. Negotiation notes. Shipment details. Signatures. Bingo.

I slipped the file into my bag, zipping it closed.

And then I heard it.

A voice crackled over the warehouse intercom, distorted but clear: “Patrol teams to the main office. Possible intruder detected.”

My stomach dropped.

---

The faint sound of footsteps reached my ears, growing louder with every passing second. Someone was coming—several someones, by the sound of it.

I cursed under my breath, glancing around the office. There was no back exit, no easy way out.

I pressed myself into the shadows near the door, my hand hovering over the knife at my hip.

Stay calm. Think.

The door opened, and two guards stepped inside, their flashlights cutting through the dim space.

“Boss said to double-check the office,” one of them muttered. “Could’ve sworn he saw something.”

I stayed perfectly still, my breath shallow as they scanned the room.

---

From the catwalk, I watched as the guards entered the office.

The intruder had slipped in just moments earlier, their movements so fluid I almost admired them. Almost.

I signaled to the guards below, pointing them toward the office. If this was a thief or a spy, they wouldn’t make it out.

But something about this person gnawed at me. The way they moved, the confidence in their steps—it was... familiar.

Still, I stayed silent, waiting to see how they’d handle being cornered.

---

The guards moved deeper into the office, their flashlights sweeping across the room.

Y/N waited, her body tense as they came closer. When one of them turned his back to her, she made her move.

She struck quickly, her knife pressed against the guard’s throat before he could react.

“Quiet,” she hissed, her voice low and distorted by the mask. “Or you won’t get a second warning.”

The second guard froze, his flashlight dropping as he reached for his weapon.

“Don’t,” Y/N warned, shifting her position so the first guard shielded her.

The second guard hesitated, his hand hovering over his holster.

Y/N shoved the first guard into him, knocking them both off balance, and darted out of the office.

---

The intruder burst out of the office, moving faster than I expected.

The guards scrambled after them, shouting warnings that echoed through the warehouse.

I followed from above, my eyes locked on their figure as they weaved through the maze of crates.

Whoever they were, they were good.

Too good.

---

Y/N was almost at the exit, her heart pounding as she darted between the crates. She felt it before she heard it—someone else was following her. Not the guards, whose footsteps were heavy and clumsy. This was someone quieter, faster, and far more dangerous.

Her pulse quickened as she glanced over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of a figure descending from the catwalks above.

Her jaw tightened. Who the hell is that?

The figure moved with precision, cutting off her path to the side door. Y/N pivoted, ready to change direction, but he was too quick. They collided with force, the impact sending her stumbling back.

Before she could recover, he lunged, grabbing her wrist as her knife flashed between them.

---

I twisted hard, my free hand striking out as I tried to break his grip. He was strong, stronger than I expected, and every move I made was met with an equally skilled counter.

His hand clamped around my wrist, forcing my knife away from his body.

“Not bad,” I muttered under my breath, the words muffled by my mask.

His eyes narrowed, his voice sharp. “Who are you?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I shifted my weight, kicking out hard. My boot caught him in the knee, just enough to throw him off balance.

He stumbled but didn’t let go, his grip tightening as he spun us around.

---

The intruder wasn’t just good—they were trained. Every movement was deliberate, calculated, and relentless.

They twisted again, their knife slashing toward my side. I dodged, the blade grazing my jacket, but I managed to shove them back into the crates.

“Who sent you?” I demanded, my voice cold.

They didn’t respond, their masked face giving nothing away. Instead, they came at me again, their knife flashing in the dim light.

The fight was fast and brutal, every strike and counterstrike a test of skill. I felt the sting of a cut on my forearm, but I ignored it, focusing on disarming them.

---

The struggle between them was fierce, the clash of steel and the scuffle of boots on concrete echoing through the warehouse.

Y/N fought with everything she had, her movements fluid and unrelenting. Lando countered with equal ferocity, his instincts honed from years of experience.

A crate toppled over as Y/N spun, using the environment to her advantage. She lunged, her knife slicing close enough to tear through the fabric of Lando’s shirt.

He retaliated, his fist catching her shoulder and sending her stumbling back.

Both of them were breathing hard now, blood staining their clothes from small but deliberate wounds.

---

I had to end this.

It wasn’t just some guard. I’d realized that the moment he blocked my first strike with precision that no hired muscle could manage. This was Lando.

His movements were sharp, efficient, and damn near impossible to counter. Every step I took, every calculated strike, was met with an equally brutal response. He wasn’t trying to subdue me—he was trying to figure out who I was.

That couldn’t happen.

My mind raced, adrenaline pounding through me as I reassessed. Lando wasn’t a target, and fighting him wasn’t part of the plan. He wasn’t supposed to be here.

I needed to move. To escape.

I feinted left, drawing his attention with a quick flick of my knife. His body shifted instinctively to block, and that was all the opening I needed. Twisting hard, I wrenched myself free of his grip, my feet already moving as I slipped around him.

For a split second, I hesitated.

My instincts screamed at me to press the attack, to strike before he could recover. But this wasn’t about taking him down. It was about getting out—alive and unidentified.

There wasn’t time.

---

Lando cursed, his hand flying out to grab her, but she was already gone, darting between the crates with a speed that left him no time to react.

Y/N moved like a shadow, her figure barely visible as she disappeared into the maze of the warehouse.

The guards, alerted by the commotion, converged on her position, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.

She didn’t slow.

With calculated precision, she took them down one by one—an elbow to the temple here, a sweep of the leg there. Each move was efficient and brutal, leaving the guards sprawled on the ground as she made her way to the exit.

By the time she burst through the side door and into the night, her breaths were coming fast and ragged.

---

I reached the exit just in time to see the intruder vanish into the shadows.

My side ached, and my arm was slick with blood from the cut they’d landed, but that wasn’t what bothered me most.

Whoever they were, they weren’t just some random thief. They’d known exactly what they were doing, and they’d been after something specific.

As I stared into the darkness, one thought echoed in my mind.

Who the hell are you?

---

The docks were silent by the time Y/N made it to the drop-off point. Tucked away between two abandoned warehouses, the location was as unassuming as it was isolated.

She crouched near a rusted steel container, her movements deliberate as she pulled the file from her bag. The sharp pain in her arm flared as she moved, but she gritted her teeth and ignored it.

Placing the file into the secure lockbox Max had described, she stood and glanced around once more. The faint glow of streetlights in the distance cast eerie shadows across the empty lot.

No loose ends.

With the mission complete, Y/N melted into the shadows, vanishing into the night.

---

The McLaren estate was as grand as ever, its sprawling grounds meticulously maintained, and the air buzzing with the quiet efficiency of the staff. Y/N arrived mid-morning, her steps light but her mind heavy.

She’d wrapped her injured arm carefully, the white bandage hidden beneath the sleeve of a fitted leather jacket. Though the cut wasn’t deep, it was obvious enough to draw attention if someone looked too closely.

And Lando always looked too closely.

As she entered the main hall, she spotted him at the far end, leaning against a marble counter in conversation with Oscar. He looked as composed as ever, his signature curls slightly disheveled, a cup of coffee in one hand.

The sight of him brought back the previous night in an instant—the fight, the way he’d moved, the close call.

But he didn’t know.

He couldn’t.

Y/N squared her shoulders and approached, her usual confidence firmly in place.

---

I noticed her the moment she walked in.

Y/N had a way of commanding attention without trying—her confidence, the way she moved, like she belonged wherever she chose to be.

But today, something was different.

She was holding herself a little too carefully, her posture stiff in a way that most people wouldn’t catch. And then there was her arm.

The faint bulge of a bandage beneath her jacket sleeve didn’t escape my notice.

My eyes narrowed slightly as she reached us, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

“Morning, boys,” she said, her tone casual as she leaned against the counter beside Oscar.

“You’re in a good mood,” Oscar said, raising a brow.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she replied smoothly.

---

Lando’s gaze lingered on her arm, his mind racing. He didn’t ask about it immediately—he knew Y/N well enough to know she wouldn’t give him a straight answer.

But something about the timing was off.

The night before, a skilled intruder had broken into one of McLaren’s key warehouses. The guards’ reports had been vague, but Lando didn’t need details to know whoever it was had been dangerous.

And now Y/N shows up with a freshly bandaged arm?

It didn’t sit right.

“Everything okay?” Lando asked casually, his tone light but probing.

“Never better,” Y/N said, her smirk widening as she met his gaze.

He didn’t look away, his eyes darkening as suspicion took root.

“Funny,” he said after a pause. “I heard there was some trouble at the docks last night.”

Y/N’s smirk faltered for the briefest moment before she recovered, her laugh light and dismissive. “Trouble at the docks? Sounds like your security needs an upgrade.”

Lando didn’t respond immediately, his gaze flicking to her arm again.

“What happened to your arm?” he asked, his voice sharper now.

---

My chest tightened, but I didn’t let it show.

“Cut myself,” I said easily, gesturing vaguely. “Kitchen accident. You know, knives can be tricky.”

Lando didn’t look convinced.

His dark eyes locked onto mine, the intensity in his gaze making my stomach churn. For a moment, I thought he might press further, might connect the dots right there and then.

But instead, he leaned back, his smirk returning, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Be careful,” he said, his tone deceptively smooth. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt again.”

His words felt like a challenge, and I forced myself to meet his gaze without flinching.

“I’ll try,” I replied, my voice steady despite the tension simmering between us.

---

As Y/N turned to leave, Lando watched her go, his mind racing.

The timing of her injury, the break-in, and her evasiveness didn’t feel like a coincidence.

He tapped his fingers against the counter, his jaw tightening as he considered the implications.

If it was her...

His thoughts were interrupted by Oscar, who spoke quietly. “Something doesn’t add up, does it?”

“No,” Lando said, his voice low.

And not for the first time, doubt crept into his mind—not just about Y/N’s story, but about who she really was.

To be continued...

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Series Taglist: @laptime-deleted, @planet-faerie, @iloveotters11, @anamiad00msday

LN4 Taglist: @esserenorris, @tallrock35, @yourbane, @lightdragonrayne, @really-fucking-tired, @evie-119, @ilivbullyingjeongin, @ggaslyp1, @icecoldtires, @cmleitora, @cheyennep3107, @d3kstar, @fadingcloudballoon-blog, @same1995, @hinamesgigantica, @laptime-deleted, @planet-faerie, @iloveotters11. @anamiad00msday

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gaywarcriminals · 11 hours ago

Note

YQY getting hit with truth serum so he has to confess The Secret to SJ is definitely a thing, because jesus fucking christ ANYTHING to make that man talk, but I think the potential for an even larger audience is fantastic.

A scenario like SQQ's trial. Things are dug up. Other things are implied or even fabricated. YQY is on trial. He's presented with some kind of truth serum. He refuses to take it until it's clarified that it won't compel him to speak, just prevent him from lying. He takes it.

They were lying. It absolutely does compel him to answer any questions asked of him. And the results are completely unhinged.

The Xuan Su thing doesn't even come up. It doesn't need to. In an attempt to paint him as scheming and ambitious, he's asked why he became sect leader.

"So I can give Xiao Jiu whatever he wants."

The assembled crowd: ?????

Is this Xiao Jiu a....mistreess? A son? What the hell. Questioning continues, and Yue Qingyuan's insanity is put on full display.

"What if 'Xiao Jiu' wanted to be the sect leader?"

"I would make him the sect leader."

"Surely the other peak lords of Cang Qiong would object. What would you do, then?"

"Whatever I had to."

Whatever they were originally asking about gets seriously derailed as they realize that this guy, arguably the most powerful cultivator in the world, is singularly obsessed with a person he calls 'Xiao Jiu.' Why did he seek power? Xiao Jiu. What is his ultimate goal? Xiao Jiu.

It's also starting to seem like maybe Xiao Jiu isn't exactly a willing participant.

"What does Xiao Jiu ask you for?"

"To leave him alone."

Okay. So his attentions are unwanted. Yikes.

Further questioning reveals that this mysterious person seems to hate Yue Qingyuan, but is regularly subject to his attentions anyway.

The one question he won't answer is 'who is Xiao Jiu.' He's bleeding from the mouth and eyes, but he just shakes his head or says, "He told me not to call him that."

In the audience, no one noticed Shen Qingqiu's total bluescreen, because honestly? All of the peak lords are feeling pretty lost for words right now.

I dunno, I just think it's specifically interesting to a) have a public reveal that this man is a lunatic, and b) have SQQ find out the depths of YQY's devotion without being able to get the answer he wants most.

This would drive SJ absolutely insane. On the one hand he’s happy that YQY isn’t spilling every little detail of their past for these vultures to pick through, on the other hands where the fuck is this coming from??? What sense do these answers make in the mouth of the man who abandoned him? If it was anyone else saying these things he’d be wildly uncomfortable, but this is just confusing (if he were to really sit with his feelings, he might realize that any immediate sense of revolution was swept away by a long-dormant sense of possessiveness). He intends to grab YQY and shake him as soon as YQY stops giving the OPM grounds to charge him with stalking or harassment or something, and YQY will just give him guilty eyes because he things SJ is mad about every he said on the stand 😔. Actually scratch that for qijiu’s benefit the potion should still be in effect, so the moment they’re behind doors SJ can furiously ask why, if YQY doesn’t despise him, he saw fit to abandon him back then and every day since their reunion. YQY can try to hold himself back from speaking to the point of coughing up blood again, which only enrages SJ further, and eventually YQY is forced to speak his explanation through his rough and bloodied throat. SJ is have every single emotion today and has a 50/50 chance of learning what YQY’s blood tastes like (for normal kissing reasons. Normaler than usual).

On a different note, I felt palatable anxiety reading the first part of the ask because I thought you were going to say that YQY confessed about Xuan Su in public, his greatest weakness and a questionable/unnatural feat of cultivation that he could well be criticized for. I legit think that if that happened SJ would consider killing everyone else in the room to stop the secret from getting out— he doesn’t have time to process all the complicated emotions from what YQY just told him, he only knows that’s it’s intolerable for YQY to be this vulnerable in front of people SJ distrusts or despises.

#ask fish #qijiu

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csny · 20 hours ago

Text

can i say something?

watching tv on tv >>>>>>>> watching tv on computer screen

maybe it’s because my tv is like 10 years old

but tv has a higher quality when it’s 8 feet from your face and isn’t capable of showing a taskbar and a youtube red bar

i dont mean using a tv as computer, i mean the world in which a tv isn’t a roku or an amazon and you can only get network or cable tv

because of the mystique of what a television can do. it feels like the show is being beamed to you in a traditional and timeless manner. it’s like something is being sent to you from a benevolent being. like a message is being sent to you.

watching online things is like randomly picking a video from like literally whoever. there’s an exciting sense of chance and mystery and exploration, but also a higher sense of “bad” …

putting shows that were on tv, actually on the tv, it makes the show seem intentional, and part of a real moment in time. “it’s just on” has a higher tolerance “i clicked this and i want to watch it right now” expects quality or care

even ads are better on tv

the tv fills the space of an entire room, you have permission to move throughout the space. an ad comes on and you do something else, the tv exists within the same timeframe, if you pause, you are out of synch. you are not held-up by advertisements on tv; they exist in the same timeline as the show. especially with live broadcasts—the stars are stopping for ads the same as you. in contrast the personal computer (pc), is by definition: a terminal. it has a fixed spot, and symbolizes the end of a journey.

i can’t help but think of everyone in a studio working together to bring me a show. what happens when we cannot see? what is the singular vision they intend to show us?

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lightlycareless · 2 days ago

Text

An almost 10k piece but it's finally here, the toji fic continuation/conclusion. Ngl I'm really excited because after this I can literally write anything domestic with him—not that I needed to do so, but it kind of made sense in my mind lmao.

Anyways, I do recommend reading these two works (how it all started) (prior to this) (and an alternate ending.) beforehand to understand a bit more what is going on. Also, this is the official opening of a Toji category in my masterlist hahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!! Sorry for breaking the Naoya streak 🥹 I'll be back to him soon enough :)

Now, the warnings: angst. mentions of infidelity. self-harm. tiny mentions of naoya/reader. y/n is very miserable and toji pitiful. sorry :( and I apologize too if there are errors in my writing 🥹 or if Toji seems too ooc. It just needed to work this way.

Happy reading!

You never officially accepted Toji into your apartment, but you’ve long given up trying to push him away. Because whenever you thought yourself successful in doing so, he’d simply come back… more persistent than ever!

But it wasn’t all bad. In fact, the notion that he hadn’t become a burden since he arrived is something that elates you, for the last thing you needed was more problems pertaining to the Zen’in, a family you had strictly barred from being spoken of in your house…

Which Toji was more than happy to oblige to; he wasn’t too fond of them anyways before you came into his life, so this was the perfect agreement.

It didn’t mean there wasn’t moments where your curiosity got the best of you, where your mind wandered to your ex-husband, to the man you swore to love ‘till the rest of your life, wondering what he was doing, if he was missing you—

“You’re not allergic, are you?” Toji asks, snapping you out of your thoughts and back to the plate before you, his attempt of setting up the table.

“To what?”

“Mushrooms.” He says. “They’re in what we’re eating today.”

“…No. Not that I know of.”

“Good, then eat as much as you or the baby want.”

One of the main things you rarely worried about as of lately was food. Toji simply… decided it would be his responsibility, and has been doing a god job at that, even if most of the time it was just take out—cooking isn’t one of his strengths, but you suppose you couldn’t complain considering your precarious situation.

…

He didn’t need to do any of those things. Anything, really. There was never a necessity for him to seek you out and pretend to care for you. The relationship the two had back in the estate was practically nonexistent, whatever there was it was simply established out of convenience, what one could get out of the other… and you intended to keep it that way: your husband was the one you wanted.

But then, Toji was the only one to reach out to you after hell broke loose. Suddenly so interested in your and the baby’s well-being, without any apparent reason, was… eerie, to say the least. Almost too good to be true.

Yet, above all, it was painful. Because his actions only served to constantly remind you of the one you lost.

Question if you had perhaps… overreacted to Naoya’s cold words.

It wouldn’t be the first time the love of your life was pressured by his family to do things he didn’t want to. Say things he wouldn’t normally say to you.

That… that would make sense, wouldn’t it? It was simply more logical to assume that he’d never throw away all the years the two spent together… willingly, that is. That had to be the undeniable truth!

Or perhaps… not? Maybe he did believe that, wholeheartedly; and now desired to stay away from you for good—

Because if he thought otherwise, don’t you think he would’ve contacted you already? Try to make amends?

Oh, but how could you think that if you essentially disappeared? Hiding in some remote place of Japan in hopes of never being found…

There’s only one way to get the answers you desperately sought, and that would be contacting him. Reaching out for Naoya and giving him a chance to explain himself. Maybe it was all an misunderstanding, the foils of people that had always want nothing but your downfa—

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?”

You blink, once more being pulled back to reality and to the somewhat unwanted presence of the man before you.

You notice a prominent frown on his face, one that makes you believe he was trying to read your mind, as if that would ever be possible.

However, your assumption wasn’t that far off. In the short time the two have lived together Toji has gotten increasingly better in discerning whenever you were getting too deep into your own thoughts, and subsequently get you out of them before it got too… serious.

He could only imagine what went through that mind of yours—once a cheerful woman that brightened any room she walked in, now dimmed down to nothing less than a shadow of who she was.

Toji doesn’t question that whatever it is that you might be conjuring up isn’t good. Unfortunately, he won’t find out once you decide to postpone this train of thought to another day.

When it’s too late.

Toji doesn’t like pressuring topics. He’s always been the kind of person to not bother with trivial matters and just let things flow their natural way; if they end up biting him back later, that is something his future self will deal with.

However, that is not a privilege he can afford with your pregnancy, which you’ve profoundly refused to discuss with him. He doesn’t know if you plan on keeping it or not, and he supposes his opinion doesn’t really weigh in on your consideration, but that doesn’t mean he’d leave you to your luck.

Toji does not falter when it comes to keeping up with your growing needs. If you need a new blanket, or if there’s a new craving he needs to consider this time around, he’s on top of the situation as soon as it occurs.

Just because he didn’t have the same financial liberties as his annoying cousin doesn’t mean he wasn’t creative. He’d find a way, he always did, to get what he wanted.

Except when it came to convincing you into taking it easier. In other words…

“—you’re pregnant. You should spend most of your time resting.” He’d urge you once more, but you—still not keen on his presence around your modest home—take your work as your only means to escape your reality. “Or at least take lesser shifts… too much stress will harm you and the baby.”

“I’m fine.” Is the response you give him every single time the topic is brought up. Paying him no mind as you continue to do whatever it is that you enjoyed doing during your leisure time: reading, watching tv, or a simple nap.

Perhaps if the context behind your pregnancy was different, Toji would’ve found your stubbornness quite endearing. He might’ve even gotten to enjoy the fact that he was to become a father too! The idea never thrilled him in the past if he was being honest, but after getting a small taste of a domestic life with you, alongside the feeling of being wanted, he ended up liking it.

And what wasn’t there to like about having a home to return to? With people that look forward to see him, although the mother didn’t seem to appreciative of his presence yet… it was definitely an upgrade from the estate that cruelly demeaned him.

“Do you need anything from outside? I’m leaving soon.”

“No.” you respond curtly, he sighs. Well, at least you responded this time around.

“I’ll be back, then. Don’t do anything dangerous—and if you need anything you can always call me or Shiu. But I made sure everything is restocked beforehand.”

“Where are you going?” you ask, and this would be the first time he doesn’t openly indulge you, because he supposes you wouldn’t like the answer.

Why?

Because he’s going to the Zen’in estate.

As it was stated before, just because he was a man of limited resources, doesn’t mean he didn’t have options to go through. And one of those options led him to his old home. The Zen’in riches were vast, surely they wouldn’t notice the absence of a few things here and there, like clothes, cleaning supplies, even food, amongst other things he could still get a good mileage out of.

His visits there were always short and straight to the point. Toji’s hatred for them would continue to exist as long as he’s alive, more so after the horrible things they’ve done to you.

Yet, he never thought it possible for his disdain towards them to grow even stronger until he was proven wrong that very same day, after one of his relatives approaches him, handing him a white envelope that takes a lot of his willpower to not laugh at their ridiculous attempt of courtesy—

Or snap upon reading its contents.

“What is the meaning of this?” Toji breathes, his fingertips crumpling the edges of the paper.

“Is it not obvious?”

“Did you really expect me to care?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, it was only a formality.” The other responds. “Though no one really expected you to come since there’s rumors of your new… occupation.”

“If you dare do anything with that information, I’ll personally deal with you.” Even when being the black sheep of the family, the punching bag for their frustrations, there are still some that recognize his true power and do well in keeping their distance—just the right amount to keep instigating him but never to the point of crossing him. Toji often wishes they’d stop all together, but he supposes he can’t have everything in life. “Whatever, this is just garbage to me.”

“As I said, it was only a formality.”

“Yeah, right—whatever.” Toji says, quickly stowing away the envelope into his jacket with intentions of throwing it away once he got out of that wretched place, which he did so soon after, hoping to leave all this behind and get it done with.

But he wouldn’t be able to do that quite yet, not when the burden of the enveloped inside his jacket still weighed heavy on his mind. Toji had no interest in the affairs of the estate, on what the members decided or not to do, but… really? And so soon too?

It was clear to him that this is something you should never learn about. Not about his visits and certainly not about this.

He’ll take it to his grave, it’s the least he could do to preserve this small happiness he’s found.

Though it’s not what receives him once arriving at your apartment. There, just a few steps away from the entrance, you are scowling at him, arms crossed as you prepare to reproach him about his prolonged absence—all that was missing was the impatient tapping your foot and you’d be the epitome of an anxious wife.

How… endearing, he chuckles. At his unamusing response, your frown deepens.

“Where were you?” you ask once he begins to perch his coat at the nearby hanger. Toji barely had time to remove his shoes when you were already bombarding him with more questions. “At what time did you expect to return? Midnight??”

“What, worried about me?” Toji teases back, taking a deep sigh before looking up to you. You were already in your pajamas, it somewhat explains your behavior. “You know I can take care of myself.”

“That’s not what I meant, you’re just later than usual. If you’re going to live here then you must at least let me know if you’re going to be late, I was about to lock the door.”

“I’ll just make my way in if you do.” Toji responds, attempting to thread back one unruly strand of hair behind your ear, stopping him when you move away. “Or you can give me a copy of the keys.”

“I’d rather you not, the last thing I need is the neighbors becoming even nosier than they already are.”

“Sounds like a good reason to give me keys.” He insists once more, like he’s always done after the few first days of living with you.

But you’ll only continue to reject him, briefly twisting your lips before turning around and heading back into your bedroom, effectively terminating the conversation and leaving Toji on his own—as these situations often went by.

A part of him wishes that by now your… behavior towards him might’ve eased up a bit. He’s not asking you to do a 180 and act as if the two were best friends since forever, but at least give him some consideration when it comes to all he’s done for the apartment and you…

It’s disheartening to see that everything remains essentially the same since the first day, if it hadn’t worsened already…

And yet, just when he was about to give up, hope is rekindled withing him upon seeing the small plate set up on the table, served with food that is undoubtedly cold by now, but its intentions still remain clear. It was for him.

You had put aside a plate for him in case he returned for dinner. The first time you’ve ever done so.

No wonder you were angry, he essentially stood you up!

And the thought alone of your attempts to get along is enough to have all silly ideas of your rejection thrown out the window, taking the plate to the microwave as he giddily reflects how you’ve grown a soft spot for him. Because small as it was, it was still there.

«All that, and she actually likes me, doesn’t she?»

Maybe. Might be more of tolerating that actual enjoyment, but it’s an advancement he’s willing to take to heart, enough to have him in a great mood for the rest of the night as he sits down to enjoy his meal and watch some tv—forgetting all about his visit to the estate, that dreaded envelope he’s forgotten to throw away before arriving to the apartment, and instead, inspire him to do something different.

Something involving the two, for a change.

Consider it as a token of his appreciation.

Or the calm before the storm.

Toji spent quite a lot of time shaping out everything. It was very surprising in fact to look back on his intricate itinerary knowing he was the one who made it. But it shouldn’t come off that shocking, he’s always been the type of person to achieve whatever he sets his mind to.

Guess it really boils down to being capable of putting aside his needs in favor of others. Yours.

All he planned for the day was with your enjoyment in mind, though mostly because of his ignorance when it came to your preferences. One would think that considering the time he’s spent living with you he ought to know something.

But reality was that he barely knew anything—like the places you like to frequent, if there are any restaurants you considered your favorites, or parks you’d like to take a stroll on from time to time…

What little he knew came from your time at the estate, when you were still in the good graces of Naoya and in the receiving end of his fortune. There was not a day where an expensive gift didn’t grace your attention, high end brands alongside names he’s never even heard of that Toji could only dream of affording.

So yeah, it was intimidating. But he tried his best anyways, so the program ended up going something like this:

First, he’d pick you up from work. It’s his day off so it’s not like he has anything else to do, but beyond that, he wants to do it. It’s… quite a nice gesture to do, right? Besides, he’s always wanted to see where you actually worked.

From there, get something to eat. He always ends up starving after work so he supposes that for a pregnant woman that must be no different. There are a few options he’s set aside near your job, but if you wish to go somewhere a bit further to disconnect, he can also do that.

Later on is when his options branch out more. The two could either go to a park to wind down, watch a movie, or even go to the mall. Do some shopping he thinks you might enjoy… or even start looking into a nursery.

Your current apartment is quite small, having only 1 bedroom and a somewhat humble living room/kitchen he’s transformed into a bedroom of sorts, which would’ve been more than enough for one person, but for the family of 3 you were to become, that was not appropriate.

Which is the other thing he wished to go through today. After a series of side jobs there’s no real need for you to know of, he’s gotten enough for a deposit in one of the new places he’s set his eyes on.

Sure, moving onto a much nicer apartment might demand a few restraints from both when it comes to financial decisions, but ultimately the benefits outweighed the sacrifices; by doing so, you’d be in an area where your commute wouldn’t take up to 30 mins before seeing the faintest semblance of urbanism.

What you have right now is certainly not what he’d consider ideal for the mother of his child. In case of an emergency, there’s only some family-owned pharmacy to rely on. The nearest hospital is all the way down to the city!

But even if the places were not up to your expectations Toji would still make it work.

Because he’s been in your shoes, he’s got you under his skin: understanding all too well what it is to need help and have everyone turn their back on you.

It’s a dreadful, empty sensation he never wants to experience again, less on woman he’s slowly become more and more fond of by each passing day.

Ironic to think that the man many considered ruthless had become putty in your hands. And how could he not, after having a taste of what it is to be… needed? Alongside your small attempts to get along with him, or so that’s how he perceives the moments you’re not outright rejecting him.

The same ones that motivated him to keep doing his best, as well as be more approachable in his posture. Toji’s aware that his façade isn’t quite the softest one out there, but at least he’s not ugly! That ought to amount to something, right? More so if he plans to win you over like that too…

Either way, regardless of what is to happen down the line or now, Toji gets thrilled at the prospect of spending time with you. Hoping to finally see one of those adorable smiles he always loved to catch when no one was seeing—

But unfortunately, his expectations would stray off in a completely different direction once arriving at your work to learn that you weren’t there anymore. You hadn’t been there, in fact, for quite some time now. Apparently, there were days where you’d leave early just because. Naturally your workplace wasn’t to disclose that kind of personal information to anyone, less to a complete stranger in their eyes.

Seems you hadn’t bothered to tell them about him… but it’s fine. They’re not people he cares for either, so he doesn’t let it affect him much.

Your early departure instead makes Toji wonder where you’ve gone. He never really noticed your little habit since you always came back to the apartment at the same time, but he can’t help but hopefully assume you were ok. Already on way to home, actually. If he’s quick enough he might even catch you at the train station—which he better do if he hopes to continue with his carefully detailed itinerary.

Yet, as he arrived through all possible places where you could be, scanning them only to realize you were nowhere to be found…

Toji grows a bit worried. Anxious as he rushes back to the apartment, where he finds the door open but the premises void of your presence.

It’s a small place, there’s no way he’d miss a spot—it’s not like you were hiding underneath the bed or in the closet. Too silly, that doesn’t sound like you either way.

But what does sound like you, however, is the necessity to have everything neatly organized. From the cabinets to the few plants outside the window, you always made sure that everything was to your visual liking.

Such as his so-called bedroom, apparently having folded his clothes and set them on the edge of the couch to make use of it, he assumes.

… Even the jacket he wore that day to the estate, the same one that harbored that damning envelope he had forgotten of in favor of thinking about you.

Which now laid open, crinkled, on the living room floor, with its contents available for anyone around to see.

Just one second of observing the scene, just one moment was all that Toji needed to understand what had occurred. What your curious nature had unwittingly pushed you into, his heart dropping to his stomach once the gravity of the situation finally hits him.

Soon after, he turns around, sprints past the door and begins to scour for you. Exasperatedly calling for your name, looking from one side of the neighborhood to the other, even asking the nearby unsuspecting passers of your whereabouts in hopes they’d have a lead, only to remain empty handed.

Each second that passed his worries just grow stronger, like a ticking bomb, his mind was only conjuring the worst scenarios your knowledge of that situation could evoke—

But none could compare to the one he concluded after a neighbor gave him his much-needed answers.

Or more like torments.

“I think I saw her—the woman you’re talking about.” They said, Toji’s heart quickens. Clenching his grasp as he swallows. “She looked very agitated while going to the nearby pharmacy before heading to the forest—”

No.

Nononononono

No.

“To the hills?” Toji scowls. “And you didn’t stop her?!”

“I—I didn’t think I needed to! She’s always been… reserved, you know? She doesn’t even salute us when passing by; so, I just thought she wanted to be alone—”

Toji didn’t have time to waste trying to make sense of a selfish fool that couldn’t see what you were horrifyingly planning to do. Instead, he cuts through their conversation and rushes to the forest, following the small trail which he hoped you took and find you before it was too late.

Before you took one more step towards the cliff, which he could easily see you were still determining to do or not given the fixed gaze you had upon it, and the tight grip you had on the small boxes of medicine.

The only two options you had to deal with the dreadful news of the estate. The only ones your broken heart could think of.

“Y/N—Now, let’s not do anything irrational—” Toji begins, stopping just a few feet away to not startle you, but close enough to react in case…

“How long have you known?” you breathe, eyes still on the edge.

“I don’t think it matt—”

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about!” You shriek, snapping your head back to him. He already imagined so, but the look of your reddened eyes and soaked cheeks only shows how much pain you were truly in.

How much love you still harbored for the one that wronged you.

And how little importance he had in your life.

“How long have you known that Naoya is getting married?”

Toji swallows, he had to be extra careful with his words because at the minimal miscalculation this could very mean your decision. But at the same time, to see you so afflicted by his ungrateful cousin… he…

“You weren’t supposed to.” Toji responds honestly. “I… didn’t think it was necessary considering all that happened.”

“And who gave you the authority to decide that? What made you think I needed your consideration?!”

“I just thought it would be the best for you, you are pregnant with my—"

“Oh, the best for me.” You mock with a laugh. “Of course you’re only doing the best for me! How could I forget the way you essentially forced your way into my life when I didn’t even want you near me! It was all because of your miserable self that I got—I got stuck with you!”

But even if your words hurt him far more than any pain he’s ever experienced by his own family, he pushes through the ringing of his ears and seeks for your safety first.

“Y/N, please, let’s—let’s have this conversation in a… safer area.” Toji cautions upon seeing you take a step closer to the cliff, so his paranoia made him believe. “It’s cold, and you’re probably hungry too, let’s come back hom—"

“You never really cared for me, did you? All of the things you’ve done… it was only because you want to get revenge on Naoya, isn’t it?! It’s always been that, since the very. First. Day.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, Y/N. You know I rarely had contact with him, he was the one always looking for me like a stray dog!”

“Don’t insult—”

“And you knew too how much I loathed that place.” He continues. “If I could, I would’ve left a long time ago.”

“But you didn’t anyways, right? Because you were searching for the perfect way to get back at them!” you gasped. “And you—you found that opportunity in me!”

Toji should’ve felt great offense at your accusing words, more so since they were incredibly one-sided and void of any semblance of truth—his truth.

But instead, all that he felt was an inundated sense of sadness at the realization that the preconceived notions of his family had made way to you too. Completely overruling your once sweet demeanor with the cruelness he had been all too acquainted with throughout his whole life.

Was he cursed to never do anything right?

Never be happy?

Did it even matter… to try anymore?

…

“Is that what you think of me?” he softly asks, you frown at his incredulous belief. “I would never do that to you. Not you.”

Not once he’s realized how much he’s changed for you.

But his words only served to further stir the fire within you.

“It’s because of you that I’m stuck with this damned—thing!”

The crude way you refer to his unborn child hurts his heart in inexplicable ways he doesn’t believe he’s ever experienced before; but yet again, it shows that not even his offspring is safe from the torment he was promised since the moment he was born.

His steel front begins to chirp at your indifference, as felt in the knot in his throat at the tears slowly forming in the corners of his eyes. And the shatter of his heart.

“Because of you—Naoya is… Naoya is going to marry that woman.” The one from a prestigious, powerful clan; the type of person that while you never imagined the Zen’in would like as future Lady of the House, it’s clear by a quick comparison that she was a much better candidate: rich, strong, beautiful…

You could never hold a candle to her, much less in your current situation, that much is obvious now.

Officially, heart wrenchingly so, you’ve lost your husband.

Forever.

And all because of Toji’s selfish desires—

“Please, let’s just go home; you can do anything you want to me. Scream, cry, hit me, hate me, anything you want.” He pleads. “Just get away from the edge, please."

“I have no home.” You respond. “I lost it the moment I… I got involved with you.”

He knew their relationship had been rocky since the very beginning, but he never thought it was this bad. Maybe because a part of him hoped that after all the time the two spent together you would’ve… softened up a bit.

Perhaps not to the same extent as his, but at least… be careful enough to not spew all those poisonous words that only inched the knife of your indifference deeper and deeper into his heart.

Guess that was all on his mind.

“I hate you.” You suddenly declare. “I really do.”

“You don’t mean that.” Toji responds immediately after, his last attempts to gather the pieces of his ruptured heart before they completely disappeared. “You’re just angry.”

“No.” you double down. “You don’t know how much I hate seeing you around the apartment, doing all those stupid things just to appear a good person when we both know you aren’t! When because of you I’ve become worthless to— to my husband…! Because of this thing that I’m carrying!

…

If I—I could only get rid of it then maybe—then maybe Naoya will want me back. If so, I will do whatever it takes so it happens.” You begin to spiral, suddenly revealing your intentions in this place and making Toji’s eyes widen.

“What are you planning to do, Y/N?” He breathes. “You don’t—you don’t have to do anything. Not like this. Not when we can still talk and figure it out!”

“I can get my old life back with this thing out of the way, my marriage, my house, my—my love—" you begin to tremble, the faintest possibility of being back in Naoya’s arms is enough to put a smile on your face, if just for a moment.

Live in the fantasy that he hadn’t moved on from you. Like he hadn’t set eyes on someone else as soon as he made ease of his turmoiled heart.

Even if it had been by force, through matters of his clan that he was tasked to get married again, the truth remained the same: Naoya didn’t seek you out. He didn’t put up a fight to stop you from leaving nor defend your honor. He didn’t even try pushing his family’s overbearing ways back.

He simply took what was given to him, showing that he cared little next to nothing for the marriage he supposedly sacrificed a lot for, and leaving you at the lowest point of your life to fend for yourself.

But if you were already rock bottom, then that meant your life could only improve from there.

A small risk to take to get back the love of your life.

The same one Toji needed to do in this precise moment, if he didn’t want to lose you either.

“Y/N, Naoya… he doesn’t want you back.” Toji suddenly says, hoping that his words would snap you out of your delusions. “And getting rid of the baby will not make any difference.”

“How would you even know that? Someone—someone as despicable as you couldn’t know a single thing about love!” you reproach. Toji swallows, taking a step closer just in case you—you… “What would someone like you know about how I feel?! About the pain I carry?!!”

Much more than you imagined.

Much, much more, since he’s become clear in his thoughts. Of his feelings.

You weren’t alone. You didn’t need to, not when he was there to support you,

When he was there to—

To…

“—love you.” Toji suddenly declares, and for the first time that evening, your thoughts come to a screeching halt, blinking as you try to understand what he just foolishly said. If he even knew what it meant. “I—I love you, Y/N.”

But you only took his words as another baseless jest to get you right where he wanted. A manipulation tactic it didn’t surprise you he’d use against you—in your most vulnerable moment too… has he got no shame?!

“Do not lie to me, after all you’ve done, after all you made me lose—the least I deserve is your honesty!”

“But I am telling the truth.” He persists. Toji has never considered himself to be quite the nervous type; he was quite the opposite, really…

Yet, when it came to facing the love of his life in attempts of saving her life…

He’d rather face a thousand curses than go through this painful ordeal any longer.

Nonetheless, he pushes through. Because a life without you is not a life worth living.

“Since our days intertwined for the very first time, you’re all I cared for.”

“Stop it, you don’t mean—you don’t know—”

“I fell in love with your smile. With the way you laughed.” He continues, taking a step closer to you at every word he professes. Toji expected you to back away, but you only stood there petrified as he began to list all your virtues, much to his elation. “With the way your eyes seem to glisten whenever eating sweets. How you play with your hair whenever deep in thought. How you like to sleep on your right side but don’t do it because of the lights coming from the window, keeping you awake.”

“I don’t want to—I don’t want to hear any more of how you’re a creep—!”

“With the way you always reproach at me, and then… still put up a plate for me on the table.” He chuckles at the memory, how bothered you looked that one night, and yet… “I’ve always thought your pout was cute, but it wasn’t until I became the reason of it that I completely fell in love with it.”

“Why are you even telling me this? What do you think you’ll get out of me?!”

“I don’t know, nothing, maybe. I guess. Besides reminding you that you’re not worthless.” Toji says. “Because to me, you’re everything.”

“That’s not—"

“It’s the truth. All of my words, every single one of them, I meant.” Toji murmurs. “You have no idea how desolate my life was until you came along. How you brightened my days with just one word; and even less than that. You just had to smile my way, and I’d stop feeling like the disgrace of the clan. Just one smile, and I’d feel human. Worthy. Like I mattered.”

You wished to snap back, but the shocking, genuine nature of his declaration keeps you speechless.

“I won’t deny that my actions back then were made with a jealous intent. A craving to have what my cousin did—to have power over those that wronged me, one way or the other.

But I guess the more I spent time with you, without him, the more I began to sink. To let my thoughts unravel and wonder what it would be instead, to be cherished, loved, needed by someone as gentle as you.

I never intended things to end like this. You’re a delicate flower amongst that ocean of thorns. You, of all people, don’t deserve to go through all this suffering.

It’s why I swear to you again that I will do everything to make you happy. To give you what you need. Whatever it is, whatever you want, it’s yours, just—

Just don’t leave me.”

It’s only when he instinctively lets out a sob that he realizes how much he’s been crying, the two, in fact. Both yours and his cheeks soaked with tears at the presence of his undying love. Of his desire to be with you, through good or bad, better or worse. It didn’t matter if the two ended up in the street, barely making it through the day, and hated by everyone in the whole world…

Because as long as the two were together, that was enough to make Toji happy.

It’s what you always sought for a partner, what you always dreamed of…So why…

Why do you keep rejecting the things your heart so desperately desired to have once again?

“You can ignore me, hate me, treat me like I’m the worst person in the whole world, I can take it. I’m used to it. But don’t leave me.” He breathes, voice trembling as he finally reaches out to you, mere inches away from touching you... “If you leave me, I’ll…. I’ll do it myself too. I’ll jump down that cliff, or take whatever pills you take, to be with you. Because a life with you is… a life without meaning.”

…

“But you don’t believe me, do you?” Toji fearfully asks in response to your overwhelming silence, your refusal to acknowledge the heart he’s poured out to you. “You don’t believe anything I say—why? Why don’t you?”

Was he… was he truly that despicable? So unthinkable to believe that a man like him was capable of loving too?

Did he not go through enough punishment already?

How much more must he suffer, for the gods to leave him at peace?

Not much longer, because unknowingly to him, his words served to break you free from all that was holding you back. The refusal to accept the pain has inflicted on you, on your marriage and new reality.

On the fact that your heart has been shattered, probably in a million pieces, an occurrence that would probably take a lifetime to fix, if you ever do.

And if you somehow manage, you don’t want to risk it. You don’t want to endanger yourself;

All because you don’t—

“—don’t want to —I don’t—I don’t want to get my heart broken ag—again…!”

All the painful words you cruelly used against Toji were only results of your anger, and not your true sentiments towards him, that much he could understand once he quickly and tightly held you into his arms. Pulling you as close as he could into his embrace as you begin to cry, letting all that you’ve been holding in since your departure of the estate out.

The tears you never shed. The cries you never made.

It was all coming out. Washing over your body as it finally allowed your heart to heal for the first time.

“I won’t do that to you, I swear.” He breathes against your hair; you sob once more.

“Please—please don’t do this to me.” You beg. “I can’t—I won’t be able to take it again!”

“I won’t.” He repeats. “I will never let any pain hurt you ever again.”

And thus, your new life begins.

It took some time and great effort, but with enough patience and understanding, your perspective of him finally began to change.

Now, while you still had a long way to go to completely welcome him into your life, at least you no longer treated him with disdain.

Your mornings would begin with greetings to him, simple questions of if there’s something he desired to eat while you got breakfast ready, as well as good wishes wishes on his commute to work—if he didn’t accompany you to your own job, that is, which you eventually left once your pregnancy symptoms (and Toji’s endless persistence) were too much to handle.

But perhaps the most important improvement was your willingness to give him a copy of your apartment keys—or more like your keys, but the intentions were still the same, nonetheless. Toji almost pinched himself at the moment, if you hadn’t scolded him for being too silly.

“Really? For me? Oh, you shouldn’t have.” Toji teases, you frown.

“Just take them before I regret it. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to use them anyways…”

It happened so when you decided to continue with your pregnancy.

Regardless of how it came to be, and after much consideration… there’s no use in hiding the fact you’ve always wanted a family. A little baby to call your own, in a house you can decorate to your liking, with someone that would always be by your side to support you.

And everything seemed to be aligning just where you wanted. Not only for you, but for him too.

Toji had gotten a better job, one that afforded you a calm, work-free life, as well as a new apartment, one that promised to ease all of your constant fears of someone breaking in, as well as the proximity of all services you might come to use now with the baby.

You still couldn’t believe how it happened. That it even did.

Just one day, coincidentally the last one you were to work, Toji decided to pick you up and bring you along for some errands—little did you know, he was planning on showing you the new place you’d call home.

“Toji, this is—but the things—”

“They’re already here. I moved them all while you were at work.” He explains, your mouth falls wide open. “Nice, huh? Definitely an improvement.”

“Yeah...”

“And it’s all ours.”

It was hard for you to keep acting coldly as you always had towards him; definitely so after the gift he’d just given you. It just… wasn’t right for you to remain motionless, you needed to repay him for all his kindness!

But what could you possibly give a man as mysterious as him? Toji was… enigmatic, to say the least. And what little you knew just made your confusion regarding him grow even bigger.

Yet, if you listened carefully, remained attentive enough to his actions, you’d soon discover that he wasn’t as rough as he appeared to be. In fact, he was quite the softie when it came to be, and with the most unsuspecting thing too.

Yes, he had normal pastimes, like hanging out with that one friend of his, Shiu was his name? Though he seemed a bit more of an acquaintance, or even a coworker, than anything else. Gambling was another, or so you learned from Shiu, though it seems he’s stopped according to the same man. “—thanks to his new responsibility.”

Which circles you back to the first point.

Beneath that intimidating, cold exterior he always professed, Toji genuinely liked the prospect of being a father. From the way his gaze lingered at the baby department whenever passing by, or how he was always attentive to your needs…

There was not a person that eagerly awaited this baby more than him—you even overheard it so during the moments he thought you asleep, on those nights when your discomfort was too much to ignore and such, Toji remained by your side; keeping you company until slumber finally took over. Or at least distract you.

He carefully placed his hand over your protruding belly, sighing as he began to talk to the baby, the still nameless life he never expected to become so fond of, as if it could respond. Well, he just needed to wait a few months if that’s what he wanted, but he’d probably regret it when the kid turns out to be nothing short of a babbling mess.

Until then, he’d confide in his child his deepest desires, one in particular catching your attention and what you ultimately pursue to show just how much he’s begun to mean to you.

“The baby—it’s a boy.” The nurse soon declared once you’ve gone through all the strenuous, agonizing endeavor that arrival of your baby was.

You thought you were prepared for it, took endless classes and courses for it, mentalized that it was going to hurt… just never to this extent. The moment your water broke all that you had learned was wiped out of your memory, anxiety soon taking a hold of your emotions—

However, if it weren’t for Toji’s presence, his attempt of comforting words you unwittingly dismissed by shrieking at him.

“Shut up! You’re not the one pushing a goddamn baby out of your body!”

To which he laughs in response, because he finds your words amusing, or because he needed a way to take out his stress before he turned delirious with concern…

You wouldn’t have made it. You wouldn’t be where you were right now, exhausted, sweaty, but with your child in your arms.

An adorable baby boy that just by a glance you could already see whom he’d look like the most.

“Y/N.” Toji calls. He spent hours and hours daydreaming of this moment, of finally seeing the child he made with you—but when it finally came… he couldn’t lift his gaze from you. From the breathtaking sight of the family, his family, he’s sworn to cherish and protect.

From the love in your eyes as you admired the little baby boy he just knew would be a troublemaker, yet, still inheriting your kindness. Probably the only thing he’d get from you as you noted.

“He has your hair.” You say, cutting through his thoughts. “And… your eyes. Your face too.”

“I’m sure he has something of you.” He chuckles, leaning closer to you to get a good look at his child, realizing you weren’t lying. “You did well, Y/N. I was so afraid that something would happen to you, but you were brave and strong, like I always knew you were capable of”

“Toji…” you murmur, voice trembling at his words. Maybe you were just sensitive after all you endured; or perhaps… you’ve opened up to him, finally. “I was so, so frightened…”

“I know, but it’s over now. You can rest.” He continued. “And once you wake up, we’ll be here, waiting for you. To go home.”

Your lip spreads into a small smile, giving him a quick chuckle before sighing.

Finally, all of it, the sleepless nights, the random cravings, the unbearable aches, were over.

Kind of, the real struggle was only beginning.

But none of it mattered once you looked back at your lovely boy once more and realized it had all been worth it.

Your life with Megumi—a name you chose to show your appreciation for Toji, which he was elated to hear as seen in the twinkle of his eye—alongside his father, is one you couldn’t wait to see.

You knew Megumi was fated to look just like his father the moment he was born, but his growing similarities were simply ridiculous. Was it fair that he was an exact copy of him, after 9 months of carrying him?

Probably not. But you only excuse him because he’s too darn adorable! Though your amusement didn’t go without precautions, which Toji always denied.

“You should stop scowling around Megumi, Toji.” You begin. “He’s picking up your bad habits…”

“Scowling? I don’t scowl.” He retorts, a smile on his face as he does the same thing he refused doing. “Whatever the brat does isn’t my fault.”

“Don’t call him that.” You pout. “He has a beautiful name you should use more often.”

He does, he silently agrees. Heart fluttering whenever hearing you call him the miracle he was always meant to be. Or when remembering you’d given him such honor.

…

It’s these little things that always have him questioning where he stands in your heart.

And while he promised to always be with you, beyond what he feels for you simply because that’s what a real man does, a part of him still hoped that maybe, just… maybe, you’ve grown fond of him. More than the father of your child, like a possible partner to rely on too.

But he won’t push you. Because he understands that you’ve been through enough emotional turmoil for him to simply barge in and demand an answer from you.

Was it too much to ask?

No. Because you were very aware of the wrongdoings you’ve committed at the beginning of your story with him, plaguing your mind every second of the day, trying your best to make it up to him but failing to find the right way to do so.

Or more like the courage, for your shame often rendered you speechless in the quiet, private moments between the two when it would’ve been the perfect time to do so.

But it comes. In the most unexpected way too, on Megumi’s first birthday, which he coincidentally planned all by himself—by overshadowing your attempts, a spirit of competition ignites that day, but that’s a story for another time.

“The brat likes that weird show… the one that airs early in the morning, doesn’t he?” Toji asks as soon as you enter the apartment, helping you with the bags in your hands, filled with decorations and balloons for the small birthday party you planned to throw for your baby—though that was no longer necessary given his efforts.

“Toji…” you murmur, he quietly apologizes. “But yeah, he does.”

“Good, ‘cause that’s the cake I got him.”

“A… cake?” you blink, startled to see the big white box on the table, Toji opening it soon after and revealing a cake inside—themed of Megumi’s favorite show of the moment, just as he said. “Isn’t that… much for just the three of us? And Megumi can’t even eat that yet—and did you do all this??”

“Seems more than enough for us, wouldn’t you agree? Or are you no longer a sweet tooth?”

But you don’t respond, still… trying to take in what was happening before you.

“…I just thought it would be nice for the kid’s first birthday. To celebrate it. Though most of these things early on in his life only tend to matter to the parents since they don't even know what their name is.” Toji adds. “…What I mean to say is that if you don’t want it, we can still—”

“No, no. I… I’m just thinking of all the things I have to return now that you... won me at it.”

“We can use them next year or spend the cash on something else.”

“Gambling?” you raise an eyebrow.

“You know I don’t do that anymore, princess.” He chuckles. “Maybe that family photo session you wanted. Or something nice for you.”

“You need new clothes.” you quip back. “We could start there.”

“That wouldn’t be the case if you didn’t steal all of them when you7 were pregnant."

“Ah, so now it’s my fault?”

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t dream of it.” He smirks. “Would a slice of cake make up for my insulting mistake?”

“…maybe.”

“Then get Megumi ready while I take care of everything else.”

“Yeah, I’ll… I guess I’ll do that.” Yet, as determined as you seemed to be on picking up Megumi, a soft smile on your lips as you cooed at him, telling him if he was ready to celebrate his first birthday and oh, how exciting it was going to be with all the presents he got…

Your mind was nowhere near him.

It remained on Toji. On what his actions had stirred inside you once more since the moment he gave you the new apartment.

Since he held you close the day you decided to end it all. After he comforted you after a rough night of cold tears and never-ending aches, never leaving your side even when you continuously pushed him away.

Once he gave you the last piece of pizza, the one he always ate, just in case you were still hungry. Or how he didn’t mind when you stole his hoodies, all of them really, just because they were warmer and… because you liked his scent, how it calmed you.

How everything about him soothed you. Even those not so quiet snores you couldn’t sleep without now.

As you recounted these moments, the truth unfolded before you once again. What you always knew but denied out of fear of getting hurt again.

But you could no longer hide it anymore, not when your heart was demanding you to free it. Yourself.

Him.

So, after letting little Megumi propped up in his chair, you hastily headed to the kitchen, where the only other guest of the party was overseeing the last details on the cake (such as the candle) as well as getting more napkins—his son was quite the messy eater, so they could never be too sure— stopping when hearing your approach.

“Oh, Y/N, is there something you needed? Are you ok?” Toji asks. You seemed in a hurry, distressed even; naturally, he had to worry. “Is everything alright with Megumi?”

“Yes, he’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m… not here because of him.” You slowly confess, swallowing down your nerves before looking up to him and continuing. “I just… I just wanted to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asks, you press your lips together.

It was hard, no one ever promised otherwise, but this was a very necessary conversation you could no longer ignore.

So, after taking one last breath, you begin.

“That I’m—I’m sorry. For the horrible way I treated you back then. I… I had no excuse to do so, even if I was going through a hard time in my life, that was no justification for the dreadful words I used against you, or the way I diminished all that you’ve done for me.

You were always, always good to me and I… I just didn’t care because I had my own issues that I dumped onto you.” You breathe, a sob trying it’s hardest to escape your lips, breaking through anyways. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry—”

“Y/N…”

“I guess what I mean to say is… thank you, for everything. And I’m sorry, for everything too.”

“You apologize too much, you know?” Toji says before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tightly into an embrace. You silently sniffle, taking in his warmth before returning the gesture. “You don’t need to do that; I’ve long forgiven you.”

“Ho—How? When?” you gasp, raising your gaze to him. “…why?”

“Didn’t I tell you before?” He chuckles, looking down at you before giving you one last smile. “I love you.”

And while it’s not the first time you’d heard him say so, whether subtly or bluntly, whether through words or actions…

But it is the first time you’ve smiled at his words. Accepting them into your heart, which in turn, finally pushed you to take that step and admit what you desperately needed to do so.

At least openly to him, because deep within, you already knew.

“I… love you too. I—I think, no. I know.” You say. “I know I love you too.”

Alongside their little miracle, their hearts were never empty again.

🥺

One of my followers will know who Naoya married lol. I do plan to explore that idea later on, after I finish up other requests :> hehe.

Now, I hope you enjoyed this small piece 🥹 as always, things ended up chaing a bit when I got down to write it but the tragicness of it all remained. I wanted a naive Toji that was happy to be with YN while she was stuck with Naoya still, enough so to attempt doing that.

Also, I first envisioned them declaring their feelings for one another after the birth of Megumi, but decided to change that to his first birthday eventually. Thought it was nicely paced :) enough for YN to heal and such.

Well, there you have it. One of the many things I hope to write about Toji in the future :> Thank you so much for reading it.

Now, take care, and see you soon!!

#toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #jjk toji #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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limpwristssavelives · 1 day ago

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my thoughts on the wwdits final are very mixed. on one hand, i understand what they were trying to do with the ending and how the characters lives will go on without the doc crew filming. none of the episode arcs are finished and there’s no real conclusion because the crew abruptly left. but on the other hand, as an audience that feels unsatisfying. nothing was wrapped up, no goodbyes or send offs. it just stopped. and i think that’s a completely valid criticism no matter what they intended.

if they wanted that ending to work i think they should have built up to it a little more. like many have suggested, setting up that the doc is ending earlier in the season. i personally think they should have hinted that funding was running out by slowly cutting side characters screentime and using less cameras. by the end there’s only one camera left and that’s when they break the news. guillermo’s sad and confused but everyone’s like “how did you not notice?” it would have made it feel less rushed and given a reason for guillermo to join cannon capital. it also would explain why so many side characters were sidelined this season. sean gets one ep and then isn’t really seen again. the guide is hardly present. the baron isn’t seen after ep 9. i think they could have played a lot into it.

another idea i had about changing the final was that colin robinson is revealed to be behind the doc. like a post credit scene where he tells the camera that the doc was all his doing and he just cut the funding for it. the doc was just an excuse to always have someone around to drain or reveal that he can even drain through the camera so he’s been draining us, the audience, the whole time. or maybe he reveals that he’s been the one editing the doc and he’s been cutting out all the real juicy bits (like a nandermo secret relationship). he got bored with it or got what he wanted out of it. maybe even a tease like “in a couple years i’ll probably do this all again.” implying that he was behind the older doc as well.

i just feel like something silly like colin ending the doc for nefarious reasons and implying that he edits it would have at least made more sense and felt somewhat like closure. like colin’s mischief was the reason we didn’t get to see a goodbye. he could even admit that they filmed some but this would be a better drain. eyes flash blue and the rest of the credits roll. colin has the last laugh.

#it’s been his longest running con #nandermo was quite literally an experiment by colin to feed off the audience #that’s why nandermo doesn’t happen but also implies that it actually probably did but we just weren’t given that cut #honestly i just love colin and i feel like he was so underutilized this season and especially in the final #i kept thinking he would pop around a corner and give some cheeky reveal about the whole series #but alas we got… that #wwdits spoilers #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #wwdits season 6 #wwdits s6 #wwdits series finale #colin robinson #text post #my post

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yaralulus-secret-santa · 2 days ago

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henlo... apologies... the AO3 curse has found me...

pls enjoy the first of three gifts... @yaralulu for @acotargiftexchange u will receive another one today as well...

this was also supposed 2 be a hint for the type of content i write... so now.. u will be sure

the expendables

Eris, Tamlin and Jurian are three souls that don’t belong. The first is an heir who will never inherit anything, the second is a savage monster wearing a crown and the last is a human who isn’t capable of anything good. What happens when they come together and realize that pain is best healed together?

TAGS: NSFW / EXPLICIT, Jurian x Eris x Tamlin

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

“What are you doing?”

Tamlin’s voice is an easy rumble, as if the day of war planning had stolen any pretenses of politeness. He sounds tired, and he sounds more like himself. He doesn’t care for the enchanted cabins, or the cluster of soldiers. He likes to make camp further out, and keep his fire unlit. The warmth does nothing for him anymore, and he no longer wants to keep the darkness at bay.

(It finds him anyway.)

He doesn’t look up as Eris slides beside him on his log, an expensive bottle in hand and two glasses. The Autumn son snaps, immediately lighting a flame before them and Tamlin sighs. He prefers to wallow in private.

“Nothing that concerns you, feel free to carry on sulking. All that brow furrowing is going to give you wrinkles.”

“Only humans get wrinkles.”

“Hm, that’s what Big Glamour wants you to think,” Eris winks.

The cork comes off with a pop, and Eris pours a drink in both glasses. He picks his up and downs it once, before filling it up again. Tamlin’s is left on the ground between them.

“I mean, why do you keep doing that,” Tamlin emphasizes, nodding towards the bottle. “Here.”

It’s not the first time that Eris has planted himself beside the Spring Faerie; it’s almost routine by now. A long day of fighting, either enemies or their own allies, the sun sets and somehow, he finds himself wandering to find the sulking Tamlin. Tamlin is no good company, and yet Eris finds him anyway.

“It’s quiet here, and you don’t really care, do you?”

Tamlin does not. He’s used to being alone, and after what the soldiers have seen on the battlefield, they give him a wide berth. The only people who care to bother him are his brothers, when they aren’t busy, and those of higher ranks like Eris and Jurian. Speaking of the human General, he hasn’t shown his face yet. He’s bound to arrive and shatter any moment of peace left in this damned war.

He reaches for the second glass, downing it and setting it back down.

“Attaboy,” Eris praises and fills the glass up again.

The Autumn faerie empties his glass once more before speaking. “You really should quit sulking. Faeries like us, we aren’t meant to survive this war. If you’re lucky, you’ll die honorably instead of a timely and embarrassing accident orchestrated by your father.”

Neither of their High Lords intend to surrender their seats, and even Eris with his pride can admit that Tamlin is as big of a threat to the Spring Court as he is to Autumn.

“And that… is something to look forward to?”

“No, I just think it’s freeing. We can, and should do whatever we want. We can live like humans and their fleeting lives.”

Tamlin still doesn’t understand. Their lives are so short, and each moment feels like it should be crucial to them. He doesn’t know how that translates into his own life. He frowns, taking the glass into his hand and looking at the way the flames light up the crystal and the amber liquid within.

Eris gives him a sideways glance, incredulous and returns his attention ahead of him.

“We could do something wild, like stage a coup. What can they do to us? Beat us? Send us to war? Kill us?” His laughter is the crackle-and-pop of a campfire, dangerously subtle and comforting. “Wouldn’t it be fun, Tammy? Oh, what a pair we would be.”

They aren’t friends. They have nothing in common, and perhaps that is why Eris feels safe to utter the most treacherous thoughts or allow Tamlin’s silence to blanket him. Tamlin isn’t nearly as ambitious as any one of Eris’ brothers.

He glances at Eris, as if the answer would be etched there on the side of his face, somewhere along the height of his cheek bones or the strength of his handsome jaw. It isn’t. All he has is the memory of him one night, without warning or precedent, sitting beside him and doing… nothing. He’d come, sometimes with nothing and sometimes with a drink, spend the night and vanish. His visits are infrequent, but the more Tamlin thinks about it, the more he realizes that it’s the hard days that bring him here.

Hm, he ponders. Tamlin thought hard days were best spent alone.

The sound of rustling has his ear twitching. Faint, but still there. The culprit is well-versed in discretion, like the very best of spies, and the most human ones.

“Did someone say a coup?”

Eris sighs, palming his face. “Go away, Jurian. How do you keep finding us?”

“Well, it’s not that hard. You’re always here. I’m just going to squeeze,” the human says, stepping into the space between them. It’s not enough for any additional person, but he hopes to squish himself between the faeries and one of them will yield. Probably. Probably not, none of them were taught to do that. “Right in here.” Jurian keeps wiggling his hips against their shoulders for more space.

In the end, Tamlin slides over to make space for the human.

“Why the fuc—!” Eris hisses. “Get your filthy hands off—This bottle is worth more than your entire existence!”

“Gimme, gimme, gimme, I’ll tell everyone you’re staging a coup. Just give me sippy,” Jurian counters, leaning in close with puckered lips.

“Why are you trying to—” Eris bristles, the ends of his hair lighting up with the threat of a flame.

Tamlin turns his head, trying to hide his smile as Jurian distracts Eris with the threat of a kiss. In a moment of disgusted distraction, the human snatches the bottle and suckles at its teat with the voracity of a starving, abandoned kitten.

“You fucking idiot.” There is an attempt to snatch the bottle back, and Tamlin gets elbowed in the process. “That’s going to kill you, you moronic mortal!”

Tamlin sighs; Jurian’s body is turned towards him, making it easier for him to gently take the bottle away from him. He’s so much stronger that there isn’t much of a fight. It helps that Eris is pulling on his hair, too, trying to free this stray from his own idiocy. Tamlin sets the bottle on his side, where it’s an even bigger challenge to steal from.

“Whoa. Whoa.”

Jurian’s eyes are blown wide, the brown of his irises are nothing more than a thin ring around his pupils. The world must look so different to him, and Tamlin can only watch in fascination as the human’s hands flare around each of their chests—one on Tamlin’s left pectoral, and the other on Eris’ right one (which is quickly slapped away with a vicious ‘don’t touch me’).

The smile on Tamlin’s face lingers as he watches Jurian experience their world for the first time. Every sound and sight demands his attention, and the alcohol has him wobbling like a newborn. Tamlin laughs softly, and Jurian snaps his head towards him. He stares at Tamlin’s lips, fascinated by the source of the sound. Out of the corner of his eye, Tamlin sees Eris leaning forward to stare at him with mild disgust and… confusion?

“You’re…” Eris huffs, unsure of the words to choose, so he abandons the thought.

Jurian cups Tamlin’s face, getting close and staring at Tamlin’s mouth as if his mouth depended on it.

“Do it again.” Jurian’s voice carries a very heavy slur to it.

Laughter, especially coming from any of the Spring sons, without bitterness and vitriol is such a strange sound, even to Tamlin himself. His cheeks hurt from smiling, and watching the ridiculousness of Jurian who doesn’t belong here among creatures that loathe him. Yet Jurian always finds a way to amuse himself, and he seems so… alive. Is this what Eris meant?

Tamlin can’t force a laugh, but he chuckles.

Jurian’s eyes widen, and he gets closer, staring at Tamlin’s mouth and teeth. He sticks an exploratory finger in Tamlin’s mouth, and the surprise of it all has Tamlin laughing again. The human is strange—so strange.

“I’d bite it off if I were you,” Eris complains distantly.

But no. Tamlin is happy to indulge Jurian’s curiosity, opening his mouth and allowing Jurian to run his fingers over the points of his fangs, and the soft curve of his lip. It’s not his fault, he’s drunk. That was Eris’ goal, wasn’t it? Jurian simply beat them there.

“What sharp teeth you have,” Jurian breathes; his voice takes on a different intonation. “What a beautiful fucking mouth.” He has the mind to withdraw his hand from the beastly fae’s face, and he must not notice the way Tamlin’s breath hitches. “Can I put my cock in it?”

“Jurian!” Eris snaps.

“Alright.”

“Tamlin!”

The human hops to his feet, and clears the space between the faeries. Tamlin holds Eris’ gaze, finding the hollowness there—the growing emptiness in his soul that should have been filled with the love of family, friends and so much more. It was carved out of him as a child. Eris tries to fill it with ambition, pride and callousness, but the darkness takes it all. It’s a pain that no one else can see, hidden beneath enchanted emberworm threads, and all the privilege in the world.

Tamlin shares the same wound.

“You told me to stop sulking,” is all Tamlin says.

“That’s not—” Eris huffs, interrupted by the clink of Jurian’s belt hitting the ground. His amber eyes flicker to those scarred hands, fumbling with the buttons of his trousers. He watches as Jurian sways, an eager flush on his face. Jurian’s tongue is caught between his own teeth and there’s a furrow to his dark brow as he tries to figure out this frustratingly simple thing. The human is not particularly handsome. His hair is wild, and his chin carries a permanent stubble. His weak body carries scars a lot easier than faeries. Calluses, too. It occurs to Eris that he has never had a human before, but Jurian’s interest is not… in him. He abandons his complaints, glancing away to hide his own flush.

Eris has yet to decide if he wants to demand attention or simply… watch. He is learning so much about Spring’s youngest. “You’re really going to just let him use you? A human? Have you even fucked anyone before?”

Tamlin had begun to lean in, inspecting the erection presented to him. Jurian is a decent size, among the average of cocks Tamlin has seen in the barracks and baths. It smells of him, concentrated and musky, but not bad, not bad at all. He is in the midst of wondering what it tastes like—what would happen if he were to lick the glistening bead of arousal off the tip—when Eris’ question hits him.

“No, but I suppose as long as there are cocks going into holes, that’s the whole gist of it.”

“That’s not— nevermind.”

Jurian is the perfect subject, an unimportant human whose existence will be nothing more than a blip in the long, long lives of faeries. He is careless, and thoughtless, and willing to do anything like bed anything that tickles his fancy, including Clythia. (Worse, he’ll fuck behind her back, too.) Tamlin feels pity, seeing the way Jurian searches and searches for meaning, trying to find his place in this world that is decaying by the day.

Maybe this is how they all help each other.

Spring’s shapeshifter unfurls his tongue, longer than it should be, even for his species and curls it around the head of Jurian’s cock. He licks it, feeling the way the velvety skin pulls to reveal smoother, sensitive skin underneath. Jurian moans, body trembling under Tamlin’s curious exploration, and he has to hold onto Tamlin’s shoulders to steady himself. Salty-sweet bursts onto his tongue as he licks, then proceeds to suck on the top of Jurian’s penis.

Tamlin takes more and more of Jurian into his mouth, sheathing him completely. The length of him just breaches his throat, but nothing Tamlin can’t accommodate for. He stays there for a moment, listening to the symphony spilling from his lips. It’s beautiful, and Tamlin yearns to hear more of it.

(An errant thought bubbles up in his mind. He misses music, and so he finds it wherever he can.)

He begins to move, gripping Jurian’s waist with his large hands, and bobs his head on his cock. He keeps the human steady, controlling the pace no matter how much Jurian whimpers, moans and begs for more.

“ Ah, Tamlin! More, I need more.”

There’s only so much Eris can take, his own arousal tenting his tailored trousers, before he gets involved. He palms himself, adjusting his cock before he gets up, pressing himself against Jurian’s back. The thing is, he sees right through them both and their shared affliction. A soul can only go so long without being touched, and sooner or later, the desperation sets it. Jurian and Tamlin will never speak of their pain, but Eris can taste it in the air, shrouding the both of them wherever they go.

They have their own ways of pretending not to care, but he can feel it in the human’s body, the way he leans against Eris, trusting him to support him as his bones grow weaker by the minute.

“Touch me, fuck, both of you.”

No, it’s more than touch ; Jurian wants to drown in them. Eris knows because he has that very same thought, envy blooming in his chest. He wants to be in the middle, caught between Tamlin’s protective embrace and the heat of Jurian’s attention. Pale, slender fingers wrap around Jurian’s chin, and forces his gaze downwards where the rightful heir of Spring spears himself on his length.

“Watch him. He’s doing you a service, stupid human.”

Eris pulls his trousers further down, exposing his ass. His free hand moves to Jurian’s mouth, replacing his moans with choked, wet sounds. He purposely opposes Tamlin’s pace, setting Jurian off-kilter and demanding that he focus on the sensations pulling him to and fro.

“Get it nice and wet, it’s all you’re getting.”

The saliva-slicked fingers slip between the crack of his ass, trailing further and further down. Eris finds Jurian’s furled hole. Each circle he draws against it elicits a soft moan from Jurian. Jurian alternates between trying to get more friction from Tamlin, and pushing back onto Eris.

So, this is what it feels like to be wanted?

Eris’ mask slips as he releases Jurian’s chin, pushing his index into him all while kissing his neck, and nipping his earlobe. His hands wander the expanse of Jurian’s chest, tweaking a nipple harder and harder, listening to the octaves go up. Tamlin seems to enjoy it; he’s moved to stroking Jurian and lapping at his balls. His patience wears thin, adding more digits into him as soon as he can. It must stretch and burn, but Jurian doesn’t complain. He simply yields to whatever the faeries want to do with him.

As soon as he can, Eris frees himself and lines his cock up against his loosened hole. Then, he pushes into him.

Jurian is tighter than any cunt Eris’ father has ever served him, and he runs hot. It feels like an embrace, and Jurian’s hands scrambling to take hold of him, burying his fingers into Eris’ auburn locks. The other hand is fisted into Tamlin’s hair.

“Fuck,” Eris hisses, biting into Jurian’s shoulder. “This is one way to shut you up.” His voice is low and husky.

“I wanna, Iwannacum,” Jurian whisper-pleads.

A choked sound escapes him; Tamlin has stopped sucking him off. The Spring faerie stands before them, taller than both. His eyes have darkened with hunger, and he pulls off his shirt. The laces on his pants are easily undone, and he rids himself of all other items of clothing. Tamlin is a sight, and before this moment, Eris has never seen him. He’s broad, and a bulk of muscle, but under the moonlight he is beautiful.

Tamlin grips himself, stroking his monstrous length. “You think he can take us both?”

Jurian is not so far gone that he doesn’t realize what’s going on. His eyes widen. Eris’ length already fills him, and he can’t—he can’t take that.

“No, no, no, fuck, it’s not going to fit. Ah! Ah, fuck!”

The cock inside him withdraws, and thrusts back into him, cutting off any useless thoughts.

“Are you sure? You’d really leave Tamlin out when he’s the one who took such good care of you? If he can’t get what he wants, why should you?” Eris’ finger traces the length of Jurian’s hardness, adding to the overwhelming cacophony of sensations bursting through his body. “He let us into his little space, and you exclude him? Naughty boy.” Eris grips him so tight, his eyes roll to the back of his head.

“It’s fine. Don’t want to hurt him,” Tamlin grunts. He hides his disappointment well. He hides all of him better than any spy within their ranks. He starts to pull away, but Jurian stops him, lifting one leg to better expose himself to Tamlin and catching him by the arm. Eris continues thrusting into him, putting on a show for Tamlin. It’s mean, but Jurian is nothing if not perseverent.

“P-Put it in.”

It does no one any good for Jurian to get hurt, so Tamlin finds himself back on his knees. Tamlin licks into Jurian, coaxing him open as Eris fucks him liberally. He makes sure to get him as wet as possible, but it’s not enough. Jurian is only human.

“He needs more lube.”

“Use his cum,” Eris suggests without missing a beat. “Ready?”

Tamlin nods, and Eris shifts his angle, hitting Jurian’s prostate. The wet sounds of fucking as punctuated with Jurian’s helpless keening. Jurian grabs onto whatever he can, lest the ecstasy sweep him away completely. His face twists into an expression of sheer euphoria as his body tightens, then goes taut like a bowstring. Tamlin puts his mouth around Jurian’s cock, and begins to suck. It’s the last straw—it tips him over into a mind-blowing orgasm. He spills everything he has into Tamlin’s mouth, where the faerie gathers it all.

Cum and saliva are spit into his palm, and the mixture is worked into him alongside Eris’ thrusting member. Tamlin fits one, two, three fingers, but it’s not enough. Tamlin tugs at the edges of Jurian’s hole, as gently as he can without hurting him.

“Just fucking put it in,” Jurian snaps. “Whatever the fuck you think you’ll do, Clythia has,” he pauses, moaning. Even though he’s come, his erection has yet to wane. He can… he wants to come again. “She’s done worse so just fuck me and make me feel good.”

Worse?

Tamlin wants to ask, and Eris simply swears. Now isn’t the time for talks. Jurian has made his request, and Tamlin can only oblige. If it’s the one thing he can give him, then Tamlin will do it.

Eris stops moving to allow Tamlin to work himself into him. It’s a delicate task, and the fit is impossibly tight. Tamlin could cum just from this, and the sight of Jurian writhing in his arms is too much.

“Stop, Jurian, just—for a second.” Tamlin whispers, his touch a lot more delicate than Eris’. The struggle is etched into his face. He guides himself further and further into Jurian. At first, he didn’t think it would be possible, and Jurian’s protest made him hesitate, but no. Jurian really can take him. “Fuck,” he shudders.

“Heavenly, isn’t it?”

“Eris,” Tamlin warns, once fully sheathed inside Jurian alongside Eris.

“Yeah, alright,” Eris reassures, supporting Jurian’s weight in his arms and letting Tamlin take the lead.

The younger faerie moves, testing Jurian’s limits. He wants to give into his desires, but the last thing Tamlin wants is to hurt more people. He moves, and he listens; he’s attentive to all the tells of Jurian’s body, ignoring the way Jurian’s hot hole sucks him in.

“He’s looser now,” Tamlin says through gritted teeth. “Come with me? Both of you?”

He looks at Eris through his blonde lashes, and kisses Jurian’s cheek, all while upping the pace. Tamlin cranes his neck, reaching for Eris over Jurian’s shoulder, and he notices the hesitation before Eris closes the distance to kiss him.

The kiss—The kiss is everything. Tamlin swears he could have cum with an act as simple as this. It tethers him to this life, and makes him feel more alive than anything has in years. Eris must feel it too because he deepens it, and turns their face to allow Jurian to nuzzle in. The human gets a kiss from each of them as they all come together.

***

“Should I take him to the healer?” Tamlin asks, shifting into a great wolf-bear, and curling around his small human. Eris’ coat is already draped over Jurian, but Tamlin takes extra precautions.

“No, he just needs some salve. I’ll fetch it for him.” Eris moves to leave.

“Eris.”

The Autumn faerie pauses. “What?”

There’s a bite to his words, and Tamlin can’t tell if it’s out of fear for what he’ll say next or if the moment’s over. Their fates won't change. Nothing has changed.

“Nothing. I’ll be here.”

#the queen mentioned she wanted an angsty threesome...#healing where...#acotargiftexchange #for yaralulu #tamlin #eris vanserra #jurian #jurian x eris vanserra x tamlin

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