#getting asks spaced out over days is probable

[hachama]

I was in the Navy for 6 years.

During that time, I was advised to:

if I had doubts about the legality of an order, get it in writing

report any ongoing issues to the Inspector General

*not* follow unlawful orders

I never had to ask for an order in writing, because I was never given a blatantly unlawful order. I never had to report anything to the Inspector General, although one of my friends did and HOO BOY things changed with a QUICKNESS.

As part of my training, I was told about an electrician (Electricians Mate) and junior NCO (petty officer third class/E4) who was ordered by a Chief (E7/senior NCO) to install a washer and dryer in a berthing space (room on the ship where a whole bunch of people sleep, keep most of their stuff, bathe, etc.). He wasn't given the proper materials, and when he pointed out that he didn't have the proper materials and it would take at least a week for those materials to arrive, the Chief told him "You're not leaving this ship until it's done."

This was on a Friday. The petty officer wanted to go home for the weekend. So he cobbled together some bullshit, took four extension cords and plugged them into each other, ran it through the passageway and into the berthing, plugged in the washer and dryer. He "water-proofed" the connections between extension cords with electrical tape and trash bags.

I don't know what (else) went wrong, but over the weekend someone tried to use the washer and/or dryer and got zapped. It wasn't properly grounded. The outside of the machine had 150V running through it. There was no safe way to use it.

The petty officer was brought to Captain's Mast, where he said "but chief said" and the Captain said "you should have known better." The petty officer was busted down in rank from E4 to E3, probably given restriction and reduction in pay for a period of time, and allowed to re-earn his qualifications and certifications. His career hit a speed bump, he learned a valuable lesson and became an object lesson to other enlisted personnel.

The chief had already transferred to another ship. It was his last day on the ship. The chief got recalled to face the Captain, and possibly a Court Martial, for giving an illegal order that resulted in endangering the lives of at least 100 sailors.

It has *always* been the (official) position of the US military that service members are required to refuse unlawful orders. It's even in the oath of enlistment: "I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice"

The US military does not endorse the fucking Nuremburg defense. You can and will get in trouble for "just following orders"

If you're in the US military or National Guard, and are given an illegal or unconstitutional order, the GI Rights hotline (1-877-447-4487) is there to help give you the support you need to do the right thing by refusing it. It would be good to think about this now before it becomes a live issue for you and it would be smart of you to memorize that number.

[pbaz7]

FINDING PEACE IN YOU: PART 9

paige x azzi

word count: 11.8k

A/N: This one was fun to write. I tried to include a couple of requests that a few people wanted to see but I couldn’t include everything in one chapter of course. Please let me know what you think and leave comments if you can!

—————————————————————————

Paige had never thought she'd see the day where Jasmine was sitting in her living room, legs crossed on her couch. The same couch her and Azzi had just—well, no. Paige shook the thought from her head, jaw tightening as she pulled her focus back.

Still, the fact remained. Jasmine. In her house. Sitting on that couch.

It had been two weeks since Paige returned from the road, and Jasmine had already tried twice before today to wedge herself back into Paige’s orbit.

The first time, Paige had been home alone. She hadn’t even been surprised when she opened the door and saw Jasmine standing there. It ended the way it did the first time: with raised voices, insensitive words, and Paige muttering “You’re pathetic,” before walking back inside and slamming the door shut behind her.

The second time, it was a Saturday morning. Lukas was at the counter scrolling on his iPad, Paige was on the couch stretching out her sore legs, and Azzi—barefoot in one of Paige’s oversized UConn shirts, curls in a bun—was flipping pancakes in the kitchen.

They were expecting Drew to stop by for breakfast, which was why Azzi didn’t even think to ask who was at the door when the knock came. She just opened it.

Azzi had blinked, confused at first, her free hand still holding the spatula. Paige had called out for Azzi asking who it was and when Azzi didn’t respond Paige grew confused.

Paige could still picture it when she rounded the corner—how tight Azzi’s posture was. She walked up, gave Azzi a soft kiss on the cheek and gently nudged her back to the kitchen. “I got it baby.”

Azzi hesitated but Paige gave her another soft nudge and Azzi nodded, retreating back into the kitchen without a word.

That time, the argument had been quieter. The tension still lingered between them but Paige had kept her voice low, mindful that Lukas was inside and could probably hear every word if she let herself yell.

Jasmine hadn’t gotten what she wanted. Again.

After that day Azzi sat Paige down. No tension, no arguing—just calmly. Just the two of them on the couch as Azzi told Paige she needed to talk to Jasmine. No arguing, no yelling, just talk.

And now here they were.

Jasmine in her living room. In her home. In the middle of the space Paige had rebuilt with care, with time—now with Azzi.

Paige stood in the archway for a second longer before walking in and sitting across from her, lowering herself slowly into the armchair.

Paige didn’t want Jasmine in her home.

Every part of her tensed at the idea, her space was sacred. Shared only with people she trusted, people she loved. Not the woman who had shown up unannounced—again and again—trying to dig through closed chapters like they were still being written.

But Paige also wasn’t about to be seen with her in public. She knew how the media worked. How one photo, one poorly timed encounter, could spark a dozen headlines and speculation.

So here they were.

Paige cut straight to the point. “Can you just be honest about why you’re here so we can get this over with?”

Jasmine gave that same look she always did—part soft, part rehearsed—as she leaned back, one arm stretched along the back cushion of the couch. “I miss you, Paige.”

Paige let out a sound, something between a scoff and a laugh. “This ain’t gonna be productive if you start off with lying Jasmine.”

Jasmine’s expression didn’t change. She just crossed her legs the other way and met Paige’s eyes. “You say that like it’s impossible for me to miss you. I was in love with you at one point, Paige. It’s not the craziest thing in the world for me to say.”

Paige shook her head slowly, a dry bitterness in her voice. “You weren’t in love with me.”

Jasmine straightened a little, her tone sharpening. “We were literally engaged, Paige. Before everything, before I—” Jasmine paused for a second not wanting to finish the sentence. “We had something good.”

Paige let the silence hang for a moment, her eyes settling on the corner of the room before returning to Jasmine. She spoke with the certainty of someone who had spent nights unraveling the truth from memory.

“We got engaged because you agreed to have my child and my mom said it made no sense for me to have a kid with someone I didn’t see myself marrying,” she said simply. “We were toxic from the jump, it was just fun because we were in college.”

Jasmine didn’t have an answer for this right away.

Paige let the silence settle again, but this time it wasn’t bitter—it was contemplative. Tired. Her arms folded across her chest, her gaze resting somewhere past Jasmine’s shoulder as she asked, quietly, “You remember how we met?”

Jasmine smiled nostalgically like the memory held something tender. “Yeah,” she said, almost like she was reliving it. “Of course I do.”

And that’s exactly how Paige knew Jasmine hadn’t grown. Still holding on to a story that never deserved to be romanticized.

Summer 2022

The night was hazy and hot, typical of Storrs in late July. Ted’s was packed—sweaty bodies moving between the tent and bar, drinks spilling, athletes from every sport clinging to the high of having nothing to do but party at this time of year. It was the kind of summer lull where routine blurred and everyone was just looking for a little excitement.

Paige was drunk, but coherent. The kind of buzz she could still control. She was slouched in a booth with Nika, Aubrey, and Ice—one of the incoming freshmen who already had a bit of a mouth on her.

Paige was half-listening to whatever nonsense was being said, her gaze drifting around the bar, distracted.

“Yo, twin,” Nika nudged her with an elbow, “you good?”

Paige blinked and looked up. “Yeah. Just bored as hell, man.”

Nika laughed. “Go get laid or something, damn.”

Paige rolled her eyes but still grinned. “That’s all I been doing since the season ended.”

“Aye,” Aubrey shrugged. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.”

“Plus she been eyein’ you all night,” Ice chimed in, nodding her head toward the corner of the bar.

Paige followed the movement, her buzz slow and warm in her veins, every beat of the music vibrating in her chest. That’s when she saw who Ice was talking about.

A girl sitting across the bar, leaned back in her stool with a kind of lazy confidence that only came when someone knew they were attractive. 5’8", maybe 5’9", with small goddess braids that cascaded down her back, brushing against the curve of her ass. Her skin was a golden tan that glowed under the bar lights, and her lips were full, glossed, just slightly parted—wrapped around the small straw in her glass. Her nails tapped against the glass with a soft rhythm, and Paige could see the faint shimmer of a chrome finish.

She had on a cropped, long-sleeve shirt that showed off just enough: the subtle cut of her stomach muscles, a sliver of underboob every time she moved. Her high-waisted pants hugged her just right. And her eyes—hazel, but nearly hidden behind her long natural lashes were locked on Paige like they’d been waiting for her.

Paige’s diamond earrings caught the light as she tilted her head, lips curling into a smirk. The small cross hanging from her chain swayed as she downed the rest of her drink in one go, the burn grounding her in the moment.

“Imma see y’all later,” she mumbled to the table, already rising to her feet before they could get a word in.

She walked straight to the girl, cutting through the crowd easily. She didn’t stop until she was right in front of her—close enough to smell her perfume, something warm with a hint of amber.

“I heard you been looking at me all night,” Paige said, her voice low, leaning in just enough to make it intimate.

The girl looked up through her lashes, lips tugging into a smirk. “I have.”

Paige licked her lips, letting her eyes drag over her slowly. “You always stare at people like that? Or am I special?”

The girl tilted her head slightly, taking her time with the answer. “Only when they’re fine like you.”

Paige grinned. “Mm. So I’m fine now?”

The girl’s smile deepened as she played with the straw in her glass, taking a long sip before setting it back down. Her voice was smooth as she said, “Something gives me the impression you already know that.”

Paige let out a soft chuckle, tongue brushing across her bottom lip again. “Maybe. But it hit different when somebody like you point it out.”

The girl raised her eyebrow, her hazel eyes flickering with interest. “Someone like me?”

“Bad as hell,” Paige said, eyes dragging down and back up again with no shame. She mumbled something low under her breath before saying, “Yeah. I’d say you fit the bill.”

The girl smiled. “You flirt like you’ve been practicing. Like you got a lot of experience.”

“I’m a fast learner,” Paige quipped. “But you talking like you’ve got me figured out already.”

“Maybe I do.”

Paige leaned in a little closer, the scent of tequila and her cologne dancing between them. “That so? What’d you figure out?”

“That you’re not over here for small talk.”

Paige’s grin spread across her face, heat blooming behind her blue eyes. “You’re right.”

She let her hand settle on the edge of the girl’s stool, fingers brushing the denim of her ripped jeans. “I’mma be honest with you though—I’m just tryna see what you like tonight. If that’s cool with you.”

The girl didn’t flinch, her eyes lighting up with something hungry. “That’s all you’re tryna do?”

Paige cocked her head slightly, like she was thinking. “You tryna make it more than that?”

“I’m tryna make it loud,” the girl said as she reached for her drink again. She sipped slowly, letting the silence stretch just enough before adding, “That okay with you?”

Paige laughed at that, her fingers trailing just a little higher on the girl’s thigh. “Loud, huh?” she echoed, leaning in so close her breath danced across the girl’s cheek. “You tryna tell me you moan pretty or somethin’?”

The girl turned her head, lips brushing dangerously close to Paige’s. “I’m tryna say if we end up in my car we might wanna keep the windows up.”

Paige grinned as she leaned back just slightly, looking the girl over again—cropped tee riding up just enough, those lips still curved like they knew something she didn’t, hazel eyes laced with intention.

“Mmm,” Paige hummed, dragging her gaze slow. “So it’s like that?”

The girl nodded. “It’s exactly like that.”

Paige took a beat, then licked her lips and pushed off the stool. “Say less,” she said, already walking backwards with a smirk. “Lemme see how loud I can get you.”

The girl didn’t hesitate. She finished her drink and followed Paige out like she already knew she wouldn’t be sleeping much tonight.

They didn’t say a word until they reached her car. When they opened the tinted back door, Paige looked over her shoulder, eyes locked on the girl. “You sure?”

The girl stepped right up behind her, pressed close, and whispered near her ear, “You’re the one who said say less.”

Paige laughed, heart already racing. “Bet.”

And they disappeared into the car windows fogging before they’d even figured out who was in control, before they even figured out each other’s name. They’d learn that later on the drive back to Paige’s dorm to continue what they’d already started.

Present

Jasmine laughed softly, her eyes dancing with the memory. “I mean…sure, it wasn’t the best way to meet,” she said, shrugging like it didn’t matter, “but it was us.”

Paige stared at her, unmoved. The contrast between them was keen. The smile on Jasmine’s face. The confusion Paige carried looking at her.

It wasn’t cute. It wasn’t romantic.

“We met because I was bored and you looked good enough,” Paige said, not meant to be cruel—just honest.

Jasmine’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Okay,” she said, tilting her head, “But it turned into something after that.”

Paige studied her. “You don’t think we were toxic?”

Jasmine shook her head. “No. Not like that. I’ve seen worse.”

Then Paige was reminding Jasmine about another time.

Spring 2023

Campus was alive again. April in Storrs meant warmer days, later nights, and students lingering outside every chance they got now that it wasn’t freezing. The season was over, and Paige hadn’t played a single game. Her body had been healing, but her mind was restless. She was tired of rehab, tired of being asked how she was doing, tired of not being seen the way she used to be.

So she was at Ted’s.

Drunk.

The music was loud, the bar barely lit and packed, and Paige was leaning against a wall when a random girl sauntered up.

“I feel like you've been watching me,” she whispered, a smile tugging at her glossed lips.

Paige blinked slowly, knowing full well she hadn’t been watching anyone but played into it for the hell of it. “Maybe. You complaining?”

“Not yet,” the girl said, stepping in close—close enough that Paige couldn’t process anything else around her. “But I’m just curious if you're going to keep looking or actually do something for me?”

Paige let out a quiet laugh, gaze dropping briefly to the girl's lips. “I got a bum knee, not a bum mouth.”

That earned her a soft laugh, and then the girl was lightly tugging the front of Paige’s hoodie, pulling her in. Their mouths met in a messy kiss. Paige’s hand slid to the girl's waist, fingers brushing the bare skin of her back as she deepened the kiss.

The girl pulled back just enough to whisper, against Paige’s jaw, “You kiss like you’re trying to prove something.”

Paige smirked. “Promise you I don’t got nothing to prove. Just ask around.”

Their mouths met again, more urgent this time, the girl’s hand sliding under the hem of Paige’s hoodie, fingertips tracing warm lines against her stomach. Paige groaned softly, tugging her even closer.

“You always this reckless with strangers?” the girl whispered against her lips.

Paige hummed, lips brushing hers.

And then—Acrylics twisted into her hoodie, jerking her back as the girl stumbled slightly, blinking in confusion. Paige’s body swayed, eyes still adjusting to the light as she turned around.

“The fuck?” she said, irritation flaring in her chest as she turned to see Jasmine standing there clearly pissed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jasmine hissed, glaring at the random girl who was now backing away from the situation.

Paige scoffed, adjusting her hoodie. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“No—don’t flip this shit on me right now.”

“I’m not flipping shit. You’re not my girlfriend,” Paige snapped. “You be fucking around with other people too. So what’s the issue?”

Jasmine blinked, caught off guard. “Are you seriously sitting in my face comparing what I do to this?” she gestured toward the direction of the girl Paige had just been all over.

“I’m comparing exactly that,” Paige said back. “You don’t answer your phone, you ghost for days, then pop up pissy when I’m doing me.”

“It’s not the same,” Jasmine said, voice shaking just a little. “You text me every time you’re drunk. You call me when you’re lonely. You crawl back in my bed like I’m the only one you want—”

Paige cut her off. “And you let me.”

Jasmine flinched. Paige didn’t stop.

“You talk like I’m the problem, but you’ve always been down for it. Every time. You do the same shit half the time so why you acting like this now?”

“I did that because I love you,” Jasmine snapped, her voice slightly raised now. “Even if you don’t love me back the same.”

Paige stared at her for a long moment, the alcohol making her slower to filter her thoughts.

“You don’t love me,” she said, quieter. “You’re obsessed with not being alone and you like my money.”

Jasmine’s face fell. She staggered a step back, the words slicing through something soft inside her chest. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

And then she turned.

Started walking away.

Paige blinked, sobering just a little, like the weight of her own voice finally registered.

“Aye—” she reached out, grabbing Jasmine’s arm gently, pulling her back. “I’m sorry, ma. I ain’t mean that. I’m sorry I swear.”

Jasmine didn’t look at her. Her jaw was tight, eyes still fighting wetness. “You don’t get to say shit like that and then apologize like it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” Paige said quickly, her hand sliding down to Jasmine’s wrist. “You know it’s not. I was mad. I’m drunk. I just—”

“What?” Jasmine said, bitter now. “You want me to forget it? Act like you didn’t just call me pathetic?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t fucking have to.”

There was a long pause.

Paige exhaled, frustration melting into guilt as her eyes dropped to the ground. When she looked back up at Jasmine, her voice was soft.

"I'm sorry, Jas. What I gotta do to make it up to you, baby?”

Jasmine shook her head slowly, like her heart hadn’t caught up with the moment. “You think saying sorry fixes it?” she asked, not looking at Paige. “You think I’m just supposed to un-hear that shit?”

“I don’t,” Paige said quickly, her voice barely loud enough to hear. “I don’t think that. I just...I fucked up. I know I did.”

Jasmine turned her face toward her, eyes rimmed red. “You always say that after the damage is already done.”

“I know,” Paige whispered. “And I hate that I keep doing it. I hate that I hurt you. I’m not trying to I’m just—I’m so messed up all the time.”

There was a silence between them. Jasmine looked at her for a long second, studying her like she was trying to decide what Paige even was to her anymore. A regret? A habit? A maybe? Trying to figure out if she was ultimately worth the trouble. There were other athletes in the world, other people she could attach herself to.

Then she sighed and took a step forward.

Her hand lifted slowly, fingers threading through Paige’s hair, long nails grazing her scalp. “What’s going on with you?” she asked, quieter now.

Paige’s eyes closed, just for a moment, like the touch cracked something open in her.

“My team just lost in the Sweet 16 Jas. Because I have a bum knee and couldn’t step on the floor once this season,” she said.

Jasmine didn’t have any words of encouragement so she stayed silent. Running her hands through Paige’s long hair.

“I feel useless,” Paige added. “Like I’m not even the same person anymore. Basketball was the one thing I could count on, and now it’s like...slipping.”

Jasmine’s expression shifted—still guarded, but gentler. “You should’ve told me.”

“I don’t know how to talk about shit like this,” Paige admitted looking down.

Jasmine hesitated. She didn’t know how to deal with this kind of heavy—these kinds of emotions. Or maybe she just didn’t want to. So instead, she said, “I can help.”

Paige looked up at her, those blue eyes clear and fragile. Jasmine's gaze locked with hers.

“First,” Jasmine said, “you’re going to tell me you’ll stop fucking around with other girls. I want to know I’m the only one that can have you.”

A beat passed.

Then Paige smiled, it was soft and crooked, that kind of smile that always made Jasmine’s anger crumble. The kind that reminded her just how sweet this girl was in a world that wasn’t going to be sweet to her.

“I can do that,” Paige said.

Jasmine’s eyebrows rose, just slightly. “You promise?”

Paige nodded.

“Now,” Jasmine murmured, stepping in closer, “you’re going take me home. And you’re going to do whatever the hell you want with me. However you want. For however long you want and I’ll take all of it.”

And just like that — Jasmine leaned in, their mouths finding each other like nothing had happened.

The kiss was deep. Familiar-ish. Like something they both wanted to believe still fit.

But then Jasmine pulled back, her nose scrunching as she whispered, “You taste like another bitch.”

Paige barely flinched. She just whispered against Jasmine’s lips, “Lemme take you home then…so I can taste like you instead.”

And Jasmine let her.

But Paige would think about what she said later — not the sweet words, but the harsh ones. The truth she hadn’t meant to spit out loud. Because deep down, she knew she meant them. Even if neither of them would admit it.

Present

Paige sat back, her voice level as she looked across the living room at Jasmine—older now, but still wearing that same look she always did when she wanted to pretend something was more romantic than it was. Like if she smiled soft enough, maybe the ugly parts wouldn’t matter.

“What I said that night was true,” Paige said. “You didn’t love me.”

For a second, Jasmine didn’t say anything. Her eyes dropped, then lifted again. They were defiant, like she wanted to deny it, rewrite the memories. But instead she said, “You didn’t love me either, Paige.”

A moment passed.

Paige sighed, and this time, there was no fight left in her. Just a quiet acknowledgment. “I know.” She paused for a second before continuing, “We were just what the other needed at the time. I was young, had money, and suddenly had all this attention on me. I knew I couldn’t keep sleeping around without something getting out eventually—some story, some headline. So it made sense to have someone next to me who looked good, who would play the part.”

Her voice didn’t hold malice, just a quiet resignation.

“You made it easy, Jas. I knew you weren’t gonna do anything to mess it up. Honestly at one point you probably worked harder than I did to keep my image clean.”

Jasmine didn’t interrupt.

“But you didn’t do that for me. You did it because of what it meant for you. You never had to work. You got to enjoy what I had—just for being with me. The events, the people, the gifts…the money.”

She exhaled, her eyebrows creasing slightly as she tried to find the right words.

“I don’t know how else to explain it, but…we weren’t in love. We were just…a nice arrangement. It worked perfectly. Until it didn’t.”

Jasmine’s voice was quieter now too, but there was a small nod, like she was starting to see it too. “It was a nice arrangement.”

Paige let out a soft laugh, not bitter—just reflective. “Yeah…maybe for a little bit.”

Jasmine looked down for a moment, then back up at Paige. “You act like none of it was real. Like I didn’t care about you at all. Like we didn’t care about each other.”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She just stared at Jasmine for a long moment before finally speaking, her voice lower now—almost more to herself than to Jasmine.

“You remember that night it rained?” she whispered. “Like—poured. Lights all out in the dorms. Whole campus blacked out.”

Jasmine nodded slowly, eyes searching Paige’s face.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Paige said. “My knee was killing me, and I was pissed at everyone and everything because I could barely shower on my own let alone step on a court. I had been ignoring the world for days. You showed up with that candle…the one that smelled like peaches or something.”

Jasmine exhaled softly, smiling despite herself. “Peach Prosecco. You hated it.”

Paige’s lips twitched. “Still lit it though. You made me tea. Sat next to me all night. Didn’t say much. Just… sat there, brushing your fingers over my wrist ‘til I fell asleep.”

The memory made her chest ache slightly—warm, familiar, soft in the way very few moments between them ever were. Jasmine had actually looked at her that night like she was worth a damn. Like she mattered outside of a box score or rehab schedule. Like someone worth staying up with in the dark.

But even as the warmth curled in her chest, Paige remembered the next morning. She’d woken up groggy, disoriented, the scent of peaches still clinging to the air. Jasmine was gone—no big deal, Paige thought at first. Probably just ran to the dining hall or back to her own room for a charger or something. But when she shifted in bed, the ache in her knee flaring up as usual, in an attempt to grab her phone her hand brushed something on the nightstand.

It was Paige’s wallet. Open. One of the bills she knew for sure she’d had—gone. Not a huge amount, maybe a twenty, but enough that she noticed.

She hadn’t thought much of it then. Had told herself she was overthinking when little things like this happened. Jasmine was just casual with boundaries, not malicious. She knew the girl was struggling a little bit. Paige had wanted to be someone Jasmine could lean on. She’d even liked it, in a backwards way—being needed.

Paige blinked, her gaze hardening just slightly as she brought herself out of the memory. “But then you disappeared. Again. Like always.”

The softness in Jasmine’s eyes faltered, her jaw tensing.

“That’s why I act like none of it was real,” Paige said. “Because the realest parts never lasted.”

Jasmine opened her mouth to respond, but Paige cut her off gently.

“I’m not saying all this to make it sound like I was miserable the whole time, or that I didn’t care about you,” she said, her voice calm but direct. “I’m not tryna hurt you, Jas. I’m just trying to be real about what it was. And it wasn’t love. Not the unconditional kind that feels weightless, not the kind I want for myself. That I want for you.”

Jasmine scoffed lightly. “That doesn’t exist Paige.”

Paige smiled faintly, almost involuntarily. She didn’t even have to think long. “It does, Jas,” she said softly. Her eyes softened, mind flickering to Azzi…to Lukas. “I promise it really does.”

And almost as if the universe heard her—maybe even agreed—her phone buzzed on the table. Azzi’s contact photo lit up the screen. Paige reached for it and she answered, smiling. “Wassup, man?”

Lukas’ voice crackled through the speaker excitedly. “How’d you know it was me, ma?”

Paige laughed, sinking a little deeper into the chair. “’Cause I know Azzi’s on a call with a client right now, big head.”

“Hm,” Lukas hummed, like that hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“How’d you figure out how to call me with her phone anyway?”

There was a pause, then Lukas proudly said, “Well Uncle Drew showed me how to find emergency numbers on the phone, and then I saw your picture and clicked it. Boom.”

Paige let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Genius. So, what’s the big emergency?”

Lukas exhaled way too dramatically. “Azzi said you told her I need to get a haircut today.”

Paige simply said. “You are getting a haircut today.”

“Whyyyy?” Lukas groaned, dragging the word out like it physically pained him.

Paige grinned. “Because we got dinner tonight.”

“With who?”

Paige’s eyes flicked to Jasmine, who was watching her silently now, taking it all in. Paige hesitated, not wanting to hurt her more than she already had. So instead, she said, “I’ll tell you later.”

Lukas groaned again. Paige laughed before saying, “Look, I’m a little busy right now, but I’ll see you soon, alright? I’ll bring lunch—ask Azzi what she wants after she’s done.”

She heard the raucous of him getting up on the other end.

“After she’s done, Lukas,” Paige added quickly, laughing again.

“Oh…okay. Right.”

Paige shook her head with a smile, even though he couldn’t see her. “I’ll see you soon ight. I love you.”

“I love you, ma.”

Just before she hung up, she added, “And hey—leave Azzi’s phone alone. There's too much important stuff on there for you to play with it.”

Lukas laughed loudly. “Okayyy.”

Paige ended the call and set the phone back down, her smile slowly fading as her eyes met Jasmine’s again—two people in the same room, but now clearly living very different lives.

Jasmine looked at her, voice quiet, barely traveling across the room enough for Paige to hear it. “Do you really love her?”

“I do.”

Jasmine blinked fast, trying to stop the tears welling in her eyes. Her voice cracked as she asked, “So there’s no chance of us trying again? Being a family?”

Paige’s eyes softened at the question—at the flicker of that younger Jasmine peeking through, the one who was there in the soft moments. The one who used to bullshit around with her in the gym until all hours of the night, laughed with her like they had all the time in the world. “No, Jas. I’m sorry.”

She took a breath before adding, “And I’m sorry for putting expectations on you that were never part of our…silent arrangement. You didn’t sign up for a kid. But you still showed up when I said I needed one. You still did that, carried him, for me. Despite what you may or may not have wanted at the time. And I want you to know I’ll always thank you for it. I’ll always appreciate you for bringing him into this world for me.”

Jasmine’s eyes shimmered, her lip trembling slightly as she looked down. “I think about him. About you. All the time. And I don’t know…everything else just seems so shallow now. I hate that I was so caught up in the lifestyle—so materialistic—that I messed up something that could’ve been…at least good.”

Paige smiled sadly. “We were young. We didn’t know what we were doing.”

There was silence again, but this time, it wasn’t tense. It was full of understanding for once.

Jasmine asked, “How do you know you love her?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. Her eyes dropped to her lap, fingers lightly tracing the seam of her pants. “Because I’m completely selfless when it comes to her.”

She glanced up at Jasmine, who waited in silence, needing more than that. So Paige gave her everything without fully meaning to.

“When I’m with Azzi…everything slows down. Like the world feels easier to carry. Even on the days when my body’s shot, when I’m sore and just want to sleep for a week—I still get up. I’ll drive her to work and pick her up after, just because of how much she hates driving. Doesn’t matter how tired I am.”

She laughed a little. “And when I’m not with her, I’m still thinking about her. Like, what kind of coffee will make her smile that morning, because different moods call for different coffee orders, or if she remembered to eat. I know her weird ass Cava order by heart. I know when she’s had a long day ‘cause she gets quiet, but her eyes still track me like she’s trying to pull energy from me.”

Paige exhaled, her lips twitching into a smile without her permission. “She hums when she’s folding laundry. Always slightly off-key. I swear it drives me crazy.” Her eyes softened more. “Still I love hearing it.”

She paused for a second, then kept going.

“She’s patient with me, with my emotions. Doesn’t push, doesn’t guilt me. Just…holds space, even when I don't know what I need yet. And she’s real. She calls me out when I’m slipping, if I’m not being who she needs me to be, she holds me accountable, but never makes me feel small.”

Her voice cracked slightly as she let out all the thoughts she’s been holding in. “The way she looks at me—like she sees the whole version of who I am, not just the parts I let the world see…and somehow she still chooses me everyday. Still wants to come home to me after a long day.”

Her voice is more intimate, like she wasn’t even talking to anyone anymore. Just…remembering.

“When I’m on the court, the second that buzzer goes off, I’m scanning the crowd for her and Lukas. Every damn time. Doesn't feel like a win unless they’re there. Doesn’t feel worth it if I can’t share the moment with her.”

She smiled softly, still lost in it.

“She makes me want to be better in every aspect of life. Makes me want to give her the best version of me. I want her to feel safe with me. I want her to know she’ll never have to carry anything alone—not while I’m breathing.”

Paige’s thumb stilled against the fabric of her pants, her eyes glazing over—not out of detachment, but from sinking too deep into the memory of Azzi.

“She’s so beautiful it hurts sometimes,” Paige whispered, like it slipped out. “Not just surface-level pretty. Even though, God, she is—the kind of beautiful that makes you forget your name for a second when you look at her. Her smile? It kills me every time. She has these dimples, one of them only shows up when she’s really laughing, and when she’s sleepy? Her eyes get all soft and warm, like honey damn near I don’t know.”

She let out a breath, not a laugh really, more like an exhale of awe.

“Don’t even get me started on her voice. It kind of just wraps around me. Makes me feel safe. Even when she’s teasing me—and she always is—there’s never any seriousness to it. Just softness.”

Her fingers messed with the seam again.

“But it’s what’s inside her that messes me up really. The way she’s so loyal, so good to the people she loves. She doesn’t always say a lot when you first get to know her, but when she does? It’s never empty. It’s thoughtful. Like she wants every word to mean something when you’re just meeting her. And it always means something.”

She paused again, catching her breath a little.

“She has a quiet strength. The kind that doesn’t beg for attention. She shows up for people, over and over, even when she’s tired. Even if she’s hurting. And I get to be someone she shows up for.” Her voice dipped lower, almost in disbelief the more she talked. “She shows up for me.”

Paige blinked, her eyes wet but not crying.

“And when I look at her, I see the rest of my life,” she whispered. “Not just the highlight reel—the real stuff. The long nights and the early mornings, the mundane, the messy. The stuff most people get tired of—I want all of it with her, everyday. I want to sit next to her on the porch when we’re old, watching the sun go down. I want to fight over what groceries we forgot and yell at her for putting too much food on my plate. I want to take care of her when she’s sick, and hold her when she’s scared. I want to wake up to her, every day, until I can’t wake up anymore.”

She bit her lip, realization crashing over her again in quiet waves. “I want to marry her.”

The words felt heavier saying them out loud. Like they’d always been there—she just hadn’t dared say them out loud considering how soon it was.

“I really do,” she said again, softer. “God, I want to marry her so bad.”

Paige blinked like she was snapping out of a trance, and that’s when she noticed Jasmine. Eyes glassy, cheeks damp with tears…but actually smiling.

She had a deep wistful kind of smile. Like she’d finally seen the thing she never got to see when she had Paige: unburdened by the weight of the world, fully present, in love with someone—loved by someone.

“I’m so happy for you, P.”

Paige swallowed hard, guilt flickering across her features. “Shit I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

But Jasmine cut her off gently, her voice calm for once. “Don’t apologize.”

And for the first time in a long time, the silence that followed between them didn’t feel heavy. It felt mutual. Like they’d finally stepped out of the fog they’d been trapped in for years. Two people sitting with a shared truth, neither better nor worse than the other—just human.

Paige leaned back slightly, her voice quiet. “What do you need?”

Jasmine hesitated for a moment, the tension in her jaw softening as another tear slipped out. “My mom is sick P.”

Paige’s expression folded with sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Jas.”

Jasmine shook her head quickly, wiping at her cheek with the edge of her sleeve. “I swear I didn’t come here for money or for…whatever you think I came for.”

Her voice cracked, and she let out a shaky laugh through her tears. “It’s just—you know, you and my mom were all I really had. And with her being sick, I don’t know, I just started thinking about you a lot. About how it used to feel…having someone.”

She laughed again through the tears, feeling a little ridiculous now. “I missed you. And I wanted a family so bad I came back to fucking Dallas.” She took a long breath, gathering herself. “I don’t know what I thought would happen. I just feel like an idiot now.”

Paige didn’t say anything right away—because what was there to say? But she looked at Jasmine with gentleness as she said, “I can’t give you what you’re looking for, Jas.”

Jasmine’s eyes fluttered shut for a second, like she was bracing herself for the answer she already knew was coming. But then she opened them again, her voice raw. “Can I meet him?”

The question hung in the air. Paige didn’t answer right away. She turned her gaze toward the window, her jaw tight as she swallowed down the storm of thoughts brewing inside her. Jasmine leaned forward slightly, her tone more desperate now.

“Please. I just—I feel so fucking empty. And every time I see him—even in pictures—it’s like something’s missing. Like there’s this whole piece of me that never fully formed. I heard his laugh in the kitchen when I was here last time and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

She exhaled shakily. “I know I don’t have the right to ask. I know I have no rights to him. It’s completely your decision. But I have to ask.”

Paige didn’t turn her gaze from the window, but her voice came back. “I gotta talk to Azzi.”

Jasmine furrowed her eyebrows, confused. As far as she knew, Azzi hadn’t done anything legal with Lukas—wasn’t listed on anything official.

“Why? I mean…she’s not—” she started, but the words trailed off before they could turn harsh. She caught herself.

Paige finally looked back at her. “We make decisions together,” she said gently. “I can’t give you an answer without talking to her first.”

For a moment, Jasmine looked like she might protest—her lips parted, and heat welled in her chest—but she saw the emotions swirling in Paige’s eyes. Not cold, not harsh. Just protective.

So instead, she sat back, biting her tongue, nodding once. “Okay, that’s fair,” she whispered.

The two women stand. Paige reaches for her phone on the coffee table, sliding it unlocked with her thumb. Jasmine’s eyes drift downward and she has to stop herself from outwardly reacting when she sees Paige’s homescreen: Azzi and Lukas, both of them mid-laugh, seemingly at the ice cream on Lukas’ nose. Sun casting a glow across their faces. It punches something hollow in her chest, but she says nothing.

Paige opens her contacts and holds the phone out toward her. “Put your number in. Not tryna talk to you through Instagram about this.”

Jasmine takes the phone with a nod, tapping quietly before turning it back toward Paige. She doesn't add a name—just the number. Paige glances down, locks it, then slides the phone into her pocket.

They walk together toward the door, and Paige reaches to open it but Jasmine lingers, like she wants to say something else.

Before she can overthink it, Paige gently reaches out, her fingers brushing Jasmine’s wrist before pulling her in. Jasmine falls into the embrace easily, like her body still knows the way. Paige wraps her arms around her, resting her cheek on the crown of Jasmine’s head, eyes fluttering closed for just a second.

Neither of them says anything. But the silence speaks.

Paige’s hand slides slowly up Jasmine’s back, fingers tracing a small pattern over the material of her shirt. Jasmine exhales against her collarbone, soft and shaky, her hands clutching the back of Paige’s sweatshirt a little tighter than she means to.

It’s not rushed. It’s not stiff. It’s the kind of hug that lingers just long enough to say all the things neither of them had the language for when they were younger.

Eventually, Paige pulls back just slightly, her hands still resting on Jasmine’s waist. Her voice is quieter now, softer as she looks down at the hazel eyed girl.

“You’re gonna be okay, Jas.”

Jasmine nods, but her eyes are glossy and Paige can see it. The way she’s holding herself together by the thinnest thread. So she lifts one hand, fingers curling gently around Jasmine’s jaw, guiding her gaze upward.

Blue eyes meet hazel for the first time in years.

Paige holds her there and says it again—barely above a whisper this time.

“I promise. You’re gonna be okay.”

There’s a pause. A breath.

Jasmine’s eyes flick to Paige’s lips and for the briefest moment, something shifts in her gaze.

Paige sees it and she immediately steps back—not coldly, just enough to put an appropriate amount of space between them. She gives a tight smile before opening the door. “Bye, Jasmine.”

“Bye, P.”

Then she quietly closes the door behind her.

…

Later that day, Paige stepped into Azzi’s office, nodding a quick thanks to Kelly as she buzzed her into the back. The familiar softness of music echoed through the hallway, and it only took a few steps before Paige caught sight of them through the glass.

Azzi stood behind Lukas, both hands carefully on his hips as she guided him toward the pull-up bar. His legs lifting with determination, chin scrunched in focus as he tried to lift himself.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. “I feel like y’all are always up to something,” she teased from the doorway.

Azzi looked over her shoulder, flashing that grin Paige would recognize anywhere. Lukas immediately twisted in Azzi’s grip, spotting his mom. “Ma!” he squealed.

Before Paige could brace herself, Lukas launched out of Azzi’s hands and into her body, she barely caught him—a food bag in one hand, the other now wrapped tight around a squirming, excited Lukas. She laughed, adjusting him on her side as he wrapped his arms around her neck to hug her.

Azzi walked over, her eyes flicking over Paige—down to her hands. She laughed softly before saying, Let me help you,” her fingers brushing Paige’s as she took the bag.

Then she leaned in, close enough that her breath tickled Paige’s cheek. She gave her a quick kiss, barely more than a brush of lips, but enough to make Paige’s heart stutter a little as she grinned like an idiot.

“Hi, beautiful,” Azzi whispered after the kiss.

Paige adjusted Lukas on her hip as they followed Azzi down the hall and into her office. As soon as they were inside, Lukas jumped free, dropping to the floor sprawling across a large piece of paper already filled with drawings like he had a masterpiece to finish.

“So anyway ma,” he began rambling, “I needed to do pull ups cause I told Uncle Drew that if I get big muscles like you, then I can pick up the car and—”

Paige and Azzi both laughed as they began pulling containers from the bag and unwrapping Lukas’ food. “You’re gonna be a superhero, huh?” Paige grinned, handing Lukas a small apple juice.

“No,” he said seriously, not even glancing up from his drawing. “A trainer superhero.”

“Ah, my bad,” Paige chuckled. Once Azzi placed his food in front of him, Lukas shifted focus, as he weighed his options. Ultimately, coloring and chicken nuggets won out over conversation, and he faded into his own world.

Azzi leaned down and kissed the top of his head before giving Paige a glance. Without saying anything she nodded toward the door.

Paige followed Azzi out into one of the nearby training rooms shutting the door behind them. Azzi turned around and gently pulled Paige into her arms to connect their lips.

“I love you,” Azzi whispered against her lips, her thumb brushing Paige’s jaw.

Paige smiled into the kiss, her voice soft. “I love you, baby.”

They stayed like that for a moment—held in the quiet, in the peace of one another—before Azzi slowly pulled back, her eyes searching Paige’s face.

“You wanna tell me how it went?”

Paige let out a quiet hum as she settled onto the training table. Azzi tapped the edge lightly, a silent request that Paige had learned meant lay down for me. Paige listened, letting her head rest back as Azzi moved to the end of the table and slipped her shoes off.

Azzi started at her ankle, rolling it gently in slow circles, loosening the joints and coaxing the tension out of Paige’s muscles.

“It wasn’t bad,” Paige said.

“Hmm?” Azzi hummed, moving up to Paige’s calf, using her things to work through the tightness.

“Seeing her,” Paige clarified. “I had to explain to her how…what we had wasn’t healthy, wasn’t what we should’ve settled for. A silent arrangement, really.”

Azzi didn’t speak, just moved higher up, pressing into the muscle with just enough pressure to make Paige close her eyes and sigh.

“Talked about how I was young and had all this attention and money and pressure—and she helped me keep a clean image. She was never gonna risk messing it up, so it was easy to choose her. And she got to benefit from everything that came with me.” Paige let out a dry breath at a particular muscle.

Azzi’ made a silent note of that portion of Paiges leg before her hands found Paige’s knee, gently rotating it, still listening.

“We talked a lot about the past,” Paige continued. “Just tryna give her examples of why we didn’t work long term.”

Azzi moved up to Paige’s thigh.

“Told her I wasn’t tryna hurt her. That I wasn’t miserable the whole time. Just…that it wasn’t real. That we didn’t love each other.”

Azzi’s touch paused for a moment at that, like her body was reacting even if her mouth didn’t. Paige glanced up at her.

“She said unconditional love doesn’t exist,” Paige said. “But I told her it does.”

Azzi’s eyes flicked up to hers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Paige smiled faintly. “Right after that, Lukas called from your phone. It was like the universe chiming in to prove my point. It was actually crazy.”

Azzi laughed under her breath, a proud smile tugging at her mouth as she kept working her way up Paige’s other leg.

“She asked if I loved you.”

“What’d you say?” Azzi teased, already knowing the answer.

“I said I did. And then I started rambling like an idiot and told her all the ways I knew it.”

Azzi smiled at this as she pushed Paige’s knee up gently, her hand behind it as she leaned in, body folding over hers until their faces were inches apart. Paige’s smirk was immediate, her free hand brushing against Azzi’s hip.

“Stop being horny and finish the story so we can eat,” Azzi mumbled, trying to keep her composure as her eyes flicked between Paige’s mouth and her eyes.

Paige grinned, leaning up just enough to steal a quick kiss before saying, “She wants to meet Lukas.”

Azzi blinked, pulling back, her hands still resting on Paige’s leg. “She does?”

“Yeah,” Paige nodded. “I didn’t give her an answer though. Told her I needed to talk to you first.”

There was a pause before Azzi said,“You did?”Her voice is quieter than usual.

“Mhm.” Paige hummed again, relaxed beneath her touch.

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek at that, clearly trying to hide the way her lips wanted to curl into a smile.

Paige squinted at her. “Don’t think I didn’t see that.”

Azzi tried to play innocent. “See what?”

“You biting your cheek to hide that cute lil grin.”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t grinning.”

“You so were,” Paige teased, reaching up to push some of Azzi’s curls out of her face. “You love when I say shit like that. Admit it.”

Azzi leaned in close again, their foreheads nearly touching as she dropped her voice. “I love when you do a lot of things, but I’m still waiting for us to finish the conversation, superstar.”

Paige laughed, tugging her closer. “Alright, alright, just thought it was cute that you smiled when I said that.”

“Finish the story, then maybe I’ll give you something else to smile about.”

This only made Paige smirk more, now wiggling her eyebrows a few times.

Azzi rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself as she tried to shift away, but Paige’s grip on her waist tightened to hold her in place.

“So what you think?” Paige asked.

Azzi blinked. “About?”

Paige laughed quietly, shaking her head. “About what I just said, angel. Jasmine. Lukas.”

Azzi quieted for a second, her fingers playing with the fabric of Paige’s pants, anchoring herself. But her eyes didn’t leave Paige’s.

“I think…” she started slowly, clearly weighing each word. “I think it’s complicated. And it can be something that gets messy quickly.”

Paige nodded, her thumb tracing soft circles over Azzi’s wrist.

“But I do trust you,” Azzi continued. “If you feel like it’s the right thing to do for him, then I’ll support it. But I think you need to be sure he’s ready, if that’s something you’re considering.”

Paige looked at her for a long moment, taking her in—her patient perceptive eyes, her posture, the soft eyelash resting on her cheek. Paige reached up gently to remove it then, softer than before, “I wanna know how you’d feel about it though, Azzi. For real.”

Azzi took a slow breath, and this time her answer didn’t come easy. Her gaze dipped for half a second, before returning.

“I think Jasmine is…” She hesitated, her jaw tightening slightly. “From the small bursts I’ve seen—very immature. I don’t think she can be consistent with him, if that’s what you’re thinking about.”

Paige nodded as she listened.

“If we’re speaking personally?” Azzi said, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. “I wouldn’t enjoy being around someone you were involved with, wouldn’t enjoy you being around here either. I’d be lying if I said I would. But I’m not insecure, and I’m an adult. So I’d be fine.”

She paused for a second before adding, “You know me. I’ll deal. I always do. I just need to know you’re thinking about the whole picture whenever you decide..”

Paige’s hand slid up to Azzi’s waist, fingers slipping under her shirt just enough to feel skin. “I am that’s why I’m talkin to you,” she whispered. “You’re my whole picture.”

Azzi’s eyes softened and that quiet smile returned. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to Paige’s forehead, letting it linger. Then she pulled back just enough to whisper against her skin, “You better mean that Madison.”

Paige tilted her head up, nose brushing Azzi’s, a smirk playing at her lips. “I promise.”

Azzi’s eyes drifted to Paige’s lips before meeting her gaze again. The kiss was soft—barely more than a brush at first. Familiar. She sighed into it the moment Paige’s hand cupped her jaw, thumb grazing just under her ear.

Then Paige, never patient when it comes to being closer to Azzi, lets her tongue trace the curve of Azzi’s bottom lip, asking for entrance.

Azzi’s lips parted slightly as she moved closer, about to give in and deepen the kiss when—

“Azziiiiii!”

A small blur of energy came running through the door and directly into Azzi’s legs, nearly knocking her off balance if it wasn’t for Paige holding her up. She stumbled, arms wrapping around Lukas as he clung to her waist.

“Please tell Ma I don’t need a haircut,” Lukas whined, burying his face against her. “Please please please.”

Azzi blinked, then let out a breathless laugh, resting a hand on the back of his head, pushing some of his hair back. Paige groaned softly behind her, flopping back onto the table.

“Bro, your timing is actually horrendous,” Paige mumbled, one arm flung over her eyes.

Lukas, completely oblivious, looked up at Azzi with wide, pleading eyes. “You’ll tell her, right? That I don’t need one? You said I looked handsome!”

Azzi laughed again, crouching down to his level and smoothing a hand over his messy curls. “I did say that,” she admitted. “But your mom wants you to get a haircut.”

Lukas turned immediately, big blue eyes locking on Paige. “Why?” he asked, clearly hoping for a solid loophole.

Paige laughed at his attempt at pouting. “'Cause we’re having dinner with Azzi’s family tonight, remember?”

That perked him right up. “Jon?” he asked hopefully, eyes brightening.

Azzi couldn’t help the snort that slipped out. “Yes, Jon,” she confirmed, shaking her head as she stood back up. “Why is it always Jon with you?”

Paige grinned adding, “You know Jose gets mad that he’s not your favorite right?”

“I don’t care,” Lukas said with a shrug, already mentally committed. “Jon talks about dinosaurs with me on FaceTime.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow. “So that’s all it takes huh?”

Lukas nodded, as if this was just the way of the world.

“Alright then can we agree on a haircut now?” Paige chimed in.

Lukas gasped. “Can I get a design ma?”

Paige blinked. “A design?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “Like stars or flames—ohhh or a dragon!”

Azzi looked like she was trying not to laugh as she nudged Paige. “C’mon, let the boy dream.”

Paige pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know about allat, but...we’ll see.”

“Yesss,” Lukas yelled, pumping a fist in the air before darting off toward Azzi’s office again to do who knows what.

Azzi leaned against the table with a smile. “You’re in trouble when he starts asking for tattoos.”

Paige groaned. “Don’t even put that energy in the air.”

As the room quieted again, Paige laid back on the training table, propped up on her elbows, eyes following Azzi’s every move like she was the only thing in focus.

“I tell you how good you look today mama?” she asked, a little slower now, eyes sweeping over Azzi as she bent to grab something from the floor. “Feel like you wore that knowing I’d be in here, huh?”

Azzi turned around arching her eyebrow, clearly unimpressed but amused. “You’d think you were sixteen and not twenty-nine the way you speak sometimes.”

Paige smirked, unfazed. She swung her legs off the side of the table, motioning for Azzi to come closer. “Whatever. You love it.”

Azzi didn’t move at first—just folded her arms and tilted her head like she was daring her to keep going.

Paige reached out, catching Azzi by the hand and tugging her in. She leaned forward just enough to nuzzle her face into the crook of Azzi’s neck, her voice muffled. “You know you love it,” she whispered, her lips brushing against her skin. “Don’t act brand new.”

Azzi shivered, her hand reflexively landing on Paige’s thigh. “God, you’re annoying,” she mumbled with a smile—then pushed Paige back playfully, breaking the moment.

“I’m going to eat my food, hornball,” she teased, turning toward her office with a shake of her head.

Paige fell back onto the table dramatically, still grinning. “You can’t say stuff like that after letting me whisper in your neck!”

Azzi looked back, smiling. “I’m calling HR.”

Paige sat up. “You are HR!”

Azzi disappeared into her office, laughter trailing behind her. Paige stayed where she was for a second longer, cheesing so hard it hurt her cheeks, before sliding off the table to follow her in.

…

Later that night, Paige’s house was filled with the kind of noise that made it feel like a home rather than a house—laughter echoing from the backyard and overlapping conversations from the living room.

Azzi’s entire family had made the trip. Her mom, dad, both brothers, and even her grandparents—who were currently on the couch, swapping old stories with Paige’s mom like they’d known each other for years.

Dinner had ended a while ago and Lukas was outside “playing,” which mostly meant running around in circles yelling nonsense while Azzi’s brothers let him think he was winning.

In the kitchen, Paige and Azzi stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink, hands submerged in sudsy water. Azzi handed her a rinsed glass, their fingers brushing.

“This your sneaky little plan all along?” Paige asked, glancing at her with a sideways smile. “Bringing your whole family out here to trap me into a commitment?”

Azzi snorted. “Oh, for sure. My grandma already asked if you were the one, so…”

Paige blinked. “Wait—seriously?”

“Dead serious,” Azzi said, laughing softly. “She said if you weren’t, she’d have to pray for me extra tonight and knock some sense into me.”

Paige snorted. “That’s crazy,” she said, setting a plate on the drying rack. Then added, “...but also kind of sweet. M’glad she likes me.”

Azzi looked over at her, the light catching her features just right. “My entire family adores you even if my dad won’t admit it yet, so you can’t really get rid of me.”

Paige smirked at this. “You talk like you tryna marry me or somethin’. Don’t let me get the wrong idea.”

Azzi leaned in, “And what if I am? Might taste a little different with a ring on my finger.”

Paige’s jaw tightened as she shook her head. “I swear, you be sayin’ shit like that like I won’t take you upstairs right now.”

Azzi smiled innocently. “I do?”

“You do,” Paige mumbled, dipping her head to press a soft kiss to Azzi’s neck, her voice muffled against her skin. “You like when I act like this cause you get to show out.”

Azzi bit her lip but playfully elbowed her away. “We are not doing this while my grandma is twenty feet away.”

Paige leaned against the counter, still grinning. “She can pray for me too, if it helps.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, walking to put something away. “You’re an idiot.”

Paige laughed, her heart stupidly full as she turned back to the dishes, already thinking about how she’d get Azzi alone later.

Azzi was still teasing from the other side of the kitchen when they heard the sound of someone walking into the kitchen. Katie appeared in the doorway smiling.

“Sweetheart,” Katie said, addressing Paige as she folded her arms. “You’ve done more than enough in here. Go mingle a little. Talk to the family.”

Paige started to protest, hands still in the sink. “I’m good, really. It’s my place, I don’t mind cleaning up—”

But before she could finish, Tim stepped into the kitchen behind his wife, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Actually, I was hoping to grab a minute with you anyway, Paige. If you don’t mind.”

The plate in Paige’s hand slipped just a little before she caught it, and she swallowed—hard. Her expression didn’t shift much, but Azzi, standing a few feet away, noticed the slight flex in her jaw. Tim was one of the few people in Azzi’s family that was still slightly standoffish with Paige. Not that he didn’t like her, he just hadn’t had a one on one with her yet.

Azzi couldn’t help the chuckle she let out, clearly entertained by the rare sight of Paige Bueckers suddenly tense at the thought of a one-on-one with her teddy bear of a dad.

To smooth things over, Azzi dried her hands on a dishtowel, grabbing a drink from the fridge. She walked up to Paige, sliding it into her hand, then leaned in to press a soft kiss to her cheek.

“You’ll be fine, baby,” she whispered, her lips brushing Paige’s skin. “Just relax.”

Paige gave her a look, half-playful and half-betrayed. “You enjoying this aren’t you?”

Azzi smiled. “Absolutely.”

Tim got their attention again. “You coming, or do I gotta start my talk here in the kitchen?”

Paige smiled at Tim shaking her head. “No sir,” she said, giving Azzi a kiss on the cheek before she followed him outside.

The Dallas night air was comfortable—not too hot, not too cold. The sound of Lukas’s laughter filled the backyard, mixed with the occasional shout from Azzi’s brothers or Drew. They settled in two chairs near the edge of the backyard, far enough from the house to feel separate, private.

Tim leaned back slightly, his posture relaxed. “Azzi told me you like to get straight to the point. Like her.”

Paige nodded once, her fingers lightly tapping against the condensation on her glass. “Yes, sir. Always.”

“So let me ask you something, Paige. You’re young, one of the biggest athletes in the world, you’re rich, you travel…by all means you got it all kid.”

He turned his head slightly,talking to her directly now. “Why should I trust you with my daughter?”

The question hit harder than Paige expected for some reason. She took a breath and looked out toward the backyard before answering carefully but truthfully.

“Because I know what it feels like to be seen as an accomplishment before a person,” she said simply. “To be loved for what you do instead of who you are. And I know she feels like that sometimes. Sometimes she feels like without her clinic she doesn’t have much to offer but that couldn’t be further from the truth. And I wake up every day trying to make sure she doesn’t feel like I feel and I go to bed evernight telling her how much light she brings into the world.”

Tim stayed quiet, listening.

“She’s brilliant. She’s steady. She grounds me in ways no one else can,” Paige laughed for a second before saying, “And if you can believe it this is the second time today I’ve gone on about how amazing your daughter is.”

She paused, gathering her thoughts so she didn’t ramble, “So I guess what I’m trying to say is I just wanna be there for her every day. And if I can make her feel even a fraction of what she makes me feel I know I can make her the happiest woman in the world.”

Tim didn’t speak right away. He just watched her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees.

“You love her?” he asked simply.

Paige met his eyes without hesitation. “Yes. I do.”

Tim looked away for a moment, toward the house, his eyes settling on the garage. “Two cars tucked in there. Big house. Little bit of a flashy life, Paige.”

Paige followed his gaze.

“I’m not judging,” he continued, still calm but direct. “But I gotta ask—are you managing it? All of this? Because I know Azzi’s got more than enough money to stop working today and live comfortably the rest of her life. She didn’t choose you for that. But if she’s building a life with someone, I want to make sure she’s joining something equal. Someone just as smart, not an athlete who's going to run out of money the moment they stop dribbling the ball.”

Paige nodded, no hint of offense in her face—only understanding. “That’s fair,” she said, taking another sip of her drink before setting it down. “The cars, the house—it might look like I spend crazy, but I don’t.”

She shifted in her seat slightly, spreading her legs a little to become more comfortable. “I have endorsement money I don’t even touch, equity in Unrivaled that I don’t even think about. After the CBA I make more than enough to just live off my salary and honestly I don’t even use my full salary. Lukas has a trust that’s already growing interest, and I keep that locked away too. I’ve got a financial advisor, investments and shares, savings plans…” She pauses for a second before saying, “I guess what I’m trying to say is I know how to handle my business. How to manage money.”

She tilted her head back toward the house. “The big ass house? That’s for stuff like this. Dinners. Holidays. My kid having room to run. His friends staying over. My people always having a place to land.”

Then she looked back at Tim. “I’m a family person at the end of the day. I want stability. I want roots in Dallas. I want all of that with Azzi and I’ll be able to give it to her without question if she wants it too.”

Tim’s expression didn’t shift too much, just a small smile—but there was something behind his eyes. Not just acceptance, but a trace of respect.

“You sound like someone who’s smart enough to mean what she says,” he murmured after a pause.

“I am,” Paige said simply.

Tim gave a slow nod, then leaned back in his chair again. “Alright then,” he said, a bigger smile breaking through. “I’m glad we had this talk. I can stop acting all tough now.”

Before Paige could respond to Tim’s last remark, the back patio slid open, laughter spilling out ahead of the people pouring through it. Azzi’s brothers came back out, talking trash about coinhole and calling dibs on teams. Their mothers followed, chatting with her grandparents, while Lukas trailed behind with a juice box in hand and a ball under his arm. Azzi stepped out last with a drink in one hand, a huge smile on her face as her eyes settled onto Paige.

Tim got up after hearing the talk of coinhole and walked to the other side of the backyard after patting Paige’s shoulder.

Azzi smiled at the interaction before saying, “I brought you a refill,” holding it out as she made her way over to Paige.

Paige smiled, thanking her softly, but Azzi didn’t stop there—she sat in Paige’s lap like she’d done a thousand times, tucking her head against Paige’s chest as she settled in sideways. It was natural. Like she belonged there.

The rest of their family migrated toward the court and the coin hole boards, their voices growing louder in the background, Lukas yelling in protest when his uncle Ryan walked into the backyard and “joined” Drew’s team after greeting everyone.

Azzi leaned down, lips brushing the corner of Paige’s mouth, but Paige dodged her—just slightly, but enough.

Azzi froze and pulled back, giving her an incredulous look considering Paige had never in her life dodged a kiss from her. “What?”

Paige chuckled, trying not to look at the ten sets of eyes within range. “Your family’s right there, baby.”

Azzi rolled her eyes so hard it made Paige laugh harder. “I’m a grown woman,” she said, her tone dry as she set her drink down, then reached up, fingers curling under Paige’s jaw so she couldn’t dodge her again.

Paige didn’t resist this time.

Azzi kissed her slowly, humming when she tasted the sweet mix of cocktail on her lips. When she pulled back, her eyes were a little dazed.

“I’m their favorite anyway,” she whispered.

Paige snorted. “I think Lukas is their favorite now.”

“Okay, second favorite,” Azzi conceded, brushing a loose strand of hair from Paige’s forehead. “But I’m definitely your favorite.”

Paige kissed her again, just once this time. “Not even a question.”

Across the yard, Lukas’s voice rang out loud and clear.

“Ma! Come be on my team, they’re cheating!”

Paige turned her head toward him, already grinning. “Alright!” she called back, laughing as she gave Azzi one more kiss, then patted her hip gently. “Gotta go be great real quick sexy.”

She was about to slide off the chair when Azzi caught her by the wrist.

“Wait. Take off those slides. I don’t want you to twist your ankle or mess up your metrics without your sole monitor.”

Paige paused, looked down at her feet, and let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “God, your brain never turns off when it comes to me. That shit so sexy.”

Azzi just shrugged, her eyes twinkling a little. “Someone’s gotta keep you together.”

That made Paige melt. She leaned back in, cupping Azzi’s cheek with one hand as she kissed her slowly, sliding her tongue in her mouth, right in the middle of the buzz of family around them.

“You’re so sweet, mama,” she whispered, forehead pressed against Azzi’s for a beat longer. “I love you.”

Azzi’s smile was soft. “I love you back.”

Then—

“MA!” Lukas yelled again, this time more impatient, and both women laughed.

Paige kicked off her slides, calling out, “I’m coming!” over her shoulder, and jogged in her socks across the backyard.

Azzi cupped her hands around her mouth and called out with a grin, “Don’t embarrass me in front of my family, Madison!”

Paige turned just before reaching the court, walking backward as she grinned back. “Embarrass you? Watch this.”

She clapped for the ball and once she had it she took one dribble before the ball arched through the air and smoothly through the net. Cheers erupted, Lukas throwing his hands up in celebration while Azzi just smiled and rolled her eyes at her.

Lukas launched into calling plays like he knew what he was talking about, tugging on Paige’s arm and telling her to guard Uncle Drew. Katie stood off to the side with Azzi’s grandmother and Paige’s mom, laughing at the chaos, while Tim, Azzi’s grandpa and her brothers hollered from the coin hole boards about made-up rules and cheating accusations.

The backyard was filled with a kind of quiet chaos—basketball bouncing, music faint from a speaker that Jose brought outside, laughter spilling from every direction. Warm string lights blinked to life overhead as the sun began to dip low, casting everything in gold. Azzi leaned back against the chair, watching her world play barefoot, a soft smile playing on her lips as she finished Paige’s drink.

It wasn’t perfect. Paige’s sister Lauren and her dad hadn’t been able to make it tonight.

But this was everything.

And Paige—glancing back at Azzi as she high-fived Lukas—felt it in her chest. This was the life she let herself dream about for so long.

And now she couldn’t imagine not having it.

[screamlet]

Don't mind if I do! ♟♟♟

oh boy why did this one take so long!! 1k, established bucktommy, bad patient tommy, quick mention of mcd. set about a year after 8x15. also for @setmeatopthepyre who sent in the same prompt! for all that they're disasters, idk if i have another "patching up a wound" in me, lol. from the nonsexual acts of intimacy prompt list

---

"So this is urgent care," Buck marvels. He leans into Tommy's space and smiles at him. "You always take me to the best places for the best new experiences."

Tommy's expression is withering, or it would be if Buck wasn't so brave and strong and in love. But then again, Tommy's the one who sliced his arm open while working on a car in the garage, so maybe he has the right to be a little cranky about it.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" Buck asks. "Does that mean anything? Are you actually gonna tell me if you're in a lot of pain or—okay, jaw-clenched stoicism, I got it."

"It's fine. I don't know why you thought it was too deep for surgical glue."

Buck frowns. "It's way too deep for surgical glue." Suddenly, he beams. "Are you scared of doctors?"

"I'm not scared of doctors."

"I'm gonna ask Hen, maybe she remembers if you are."

"I'm not scared of doctors."

"Hey Hen random question but we're at urgent care and Tommy looks—"

"Maybe I'm uptight because I sliced my arm open and we're at urgent care." Tommy looks over. "You're not actually texting her, are you?"

"Nah, she and Karen took the kids on a day trip somewhere," Buck replies. "Just you and me today."

"No medical vigil for me? I see how it is."

Buck laughs, loud and bright with his whole chest. "I can FaceTime Eddie and see if he wants to hang out with us while you get like, maximum 10 stitches in your arm."

"You're making fun of me. I'm gonna have a scar on my forearm forever and you're making fun of me."

"I'm looking up scar gels," Buck assures him. "Ooh, that's us."

---

"15 stitches," Buck says. "See? I was close."

Tommy's eyes are shut as he nods. "Congrats. Use my phone, buy yourself something pretty."

"Can we get burgers after this? Hey," Buck says, softer. "You're not okay, are you? You can tell me."

Tommy takes a deep breath, holds it, then lets it out. "I'm fine. I'll be a lot better when I'm stitched up and home. It's fine."

They move into a different room with a bigger setup, trays ready to go and Dr. Donna cheerfully waving them over. "I can sit with him, right?" Buck asks, holding up their joined hands.

"Of course, bring all the moral support in the world," she replies. "Never too old or brave or big strong firefighter to have your hand held while someone sews you up."

"It's fine," Tommy says, absolutely not fine. "I've had staples in the field, I've been sewed up in tents in Afghanistan. This? This is nothing."

Tommy's clutching his hand so tightly that Buck can't actually squeeze back, so he rests his free hand on Tommy's instead. "Can you distract me?" Tommy asks. "Now's a great time to read me like, the entirety of an essay on… something. What are you into right now?"

"Can I look up the history of surgery?"

"A couple of little pinches, just ignore me," Dr. Donna says quickly. "Hey, why don't you tell me how you guys met? Got together?"

Buck leans forward to catch Dr. Donna's eye, which he can't do because she's working on Tommy's arm and whispering to the nurse next to her. "Uh, we can't tell you, actually. It's classified."

"Cruise ship rescue operation," Tommy says through clenched teeth. "Lifeboats, remember?"

"Oh, right, that's what they said."

Tommy huffs out a little laugh, squeezes Buck's hand tighter. "You'll never get security clearance for anything in your life, not ever."

"Yeah, probably not. How about, um. Hmm. Oh! Got together. The first time, I sprained my best friend's ankle because I was jealous, and then we kissed and it was great. The next time, we ran into each other at a bar and hooked up, and then we got back together—" Buck pauses.

"You okay?" Tommy asks.

"It's okay," Buck says. "Second time, we kinda did and didn't get back together, uh, after my captain at the firehouse—he was closer to me than my dad—uh, he died, and we just… got back together."

"I'm sorry, hon," Dr. Donna replies. "That's never easy."

"We both lost him," Buck says. "Yeah, so we were putting our lives back together and then it turned out that my sublet—I was subletting a house from my friend who moved back to Texas, the one whose ankle I sprained—well he didn't mention that the rest of the lease was only four months."

"You didn't read the lease."

"He's my best friend, we don't need leases."

"Clearly, you did."

"I don't have a lease from you. Do we need a lease?"

"Not if I'm evicting you today," Tommy replies.

"Yeah, nice try, who's gonna talk to your plants when you're on shift? And your kitchen would be nothing without me, Tommy."

"I guess that's true. I'd have to buy all those spices again and god knows how long that would take."

Buck smiles to himself; Tommy's feeling better already. "Anyway, the lease was up but I didn't know if I wanted to renew because the landlord wanted to jack up the rent by a lot, so Tommy—"

"I came to the conclusion that we were already living together, pretty much, so why not move into my house—"

"House that you own, with a really nice kitchen that could use all my pots and pans. Dishes, too, it's like you never had anyone over."

"My house that I own, and then—" Tommy sighs. "And then I'll see him every day. And every day he'll talk my ear off about anything and everything under the sun, except today—"

"You're all set," Dr. Donna announces. "That was agonizing, huh?"

Tommy looks down at his forearm, then shows Buck. "Staples would have been fine."

"You would have hated those so much more, believe me," she laughs. "Alright, Shirley's going to get your paperwork and then you can get out of here. Follow up with your primary care doctor or come back here. If it starts to take a turn for the worse: I think you know who to call." She smiles and points at both of them. "Burgers. Treat yourself. Extra carbs."

"Are they good for healing? Carbs?" Buck asks.

She shrugs and waves, then leaves again. "I'm gonna look that up," Buck says. "Can I have my hand back?"

"No."

"Big baby," Buck mumbles, bringing Tommy's hand to his lips and kissing it. "I love your big baby parts."

"That's maybe the worst way you could have put it."

"But you love me anyway."

Tommy's lips are a fine line again, slightly turned downward, but then he brings Buck's hand to his lips, too. "I love you anyway."

[itsgiovanna]

playing for love (chapter 10)

pairing: fem!character x mason mount

summary: injured and lost, mason mount begins his recovery with the help of adeline alderidge, a tough yet brilliant physiotherapist with secrets of her own. he becomes determined to break through the walls adeline has built around herself. but some wounds don't heal easily, and the closer they get, the more mason realizes she might need saving just as much as he does.

notes: two chapters in last than 3 days? ok, i'm really spoiling you guys with almost 10k worth of words with this one, lmao. enjoyyyyy 🤍

word count: 9.2k

warnings: making out scene and that's it.

next: chapter 11 (soon)

tag list: @avalentina @a1leexxa

They’d kissed.

After all the moments, the tension, the quiet glances — they’d finally kissed. Mason's chest was still tight with the remnants of it, the echo of her lips on his making it hard to focus on anything else. It had been exactly what he’d wanted, what he’d been craving — the kiss had been deep and real, a promise of something more between them. And yet, as they pulled apart, there was something else — something softer, like relief, as if they’d both been holding their breath for too long and finally exhaled.

Adeline looked at him, her eyes wide and searching, like she was still trying to process everything. She was beautiful, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly swollen from their kiss. Mason wanted nothing more than to kiss her again, but he sensed she was uncertain. It started raining outside, the soft pitter-patter against the glass as soothing as it was ominous.

"That was..." she whispered, her voice still a little breathless. She didn’t move, but her gaze flickered between his lips and his eyes.

Mason smiled softly, his thumb gently brushing over her cheek, lingering just for a moment longer than necessary. "Yeah." he agreed, a light laugh in his voice. "I think we've both been waiting for that."

Adeline nodded, though her eyes stayed somewhere near his lips, a faint pink tint on her face.

It was quiet again, but it wasn’t awkward. There was a comfort in the space they shared now, a new intimacy. She looked like she was still processing everything — he could see the way her brows furrowed ever so slightly, like she was trying to figure out what to do next.

"Do you want to go back?" Mason asked gently, his voice sincere. He wasn’t sure if she did — with the rain pouring down harder now, and her thoughts still heavy from the kiss, he knew she might not want to face Stella and her date making out in the apartment. It wasn’t a situation that would make anyone feel great, especially not after everything that had happened between them tonight.

Adeline’s lips parted slightly as she seemed to consider it. "I’m not sure." she finally admitted, glancing back toward the window where the rain seemed to blur the world outside. "I don’t know if I want to go back there and deal with... that."

Mason hesitated, but then a thought hit him, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Well...” he said softly, stepping just a little closer to her. “I do have a suggestion.”

Her eyes lifted to meet his, curiosity mixed with hesitation. “What’s that?”

He grinned. “You could stay here tonight. It’s the weekend, and you’re already here. Besides.” he added, looking toward the flat. “You can get familiar with the place. See if it feels like somewhere you could settle into.”

Adeline looked at him, her lips parting, as though she was weighing the thought. He saw her glance toward the couch, where Lily had fallen asleep, her small frame curled up under the blankets.

“Lily’s out like a puppy.” he continued, his voice soft and inviting. “It’s the perfect time to get some rest. Plus, it’s pouring out there.”

Her gaze softened as she looked at the guest room, then back to him. He could tell she was torn — she was a little apprehensive, but the warmth in the room, the quiet atmosphere, and the fact that it was all starting to feel right probably made her reconsider.

“You sure you don’t mind?” she asked, a small, uncertain smile on her lips.

“I don’t mind at all, Ady.” Mason assured her, his voice steady. "Just think of it as... a sleepover. You and Lily are welcome to stay for as long as you need.”

Adeline sighed, her eyes meeting his again. After a beat, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll stay. Just for tonight.”

Mason’s chest swelled with relief and something more — something warm. “I’ll get you settled in.” he said, turning toward the guest room.

(...)

Mason walked into the guest room and smiled at how deeply Lily was sleeping. It was comforting in a way, how still and peaceful she was. Carefully, he pulled the blanket up over her and tucked it in around her. She didn’t stir, her face soft in sleep.

As he turned to leave, he paused for a second, looking back at her. It was hard not to get lost in thoughts about how quickly his life had changed, but in the best way. Lily’s small, quiet presence in his life, and now Adeline... He could feel that it was all shifting, evolving, into something he hadn’t expected.

When Mason stepped back into the living room, he found her there — curled up on the end of the couch, knees drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around them. Her eyes were on the rain tapping against the window, her expression unreadable in the low light.

He paused in the doorway for a beat, just watching.

The soft golden glow of a lamp behind her made her look like something out of a quiet dream — warm, serene, a little faraway.

“Rain’s getting worse.” he said gently, voice cutting through the hush.

Adeline turned slightly, her cheek resting on her knees. “It’s peaceful, though. I like it.”

He smiled and padded across the room, sinking down next to her on the couch, close enough that their knees touched. “Yeah. It makes the whole world feel… slower. Like we’re the only ones awake.”

Her lips twitched into a smile. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

He tilted his head toward her. “Not bad at all.”

Her eyes met his, and Mason felt a flicker of something in the air. It was different from before — deeper, more intimate. There was still uncertainty there, but it was mingled with something he couldn’t quite place. His thumb brushed over her arm as he leaned in just slightly.

“Adeline.” he murmured, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yes?” she whispered back, her breath catching a little as she waited for him to say something more.

Before he could speak again, his lips found hers, gentle at first, slow. This kiss was different than the first — softer, but with the same undeniable pull. It deepened gradually, and Mason felt her relax against him, her lips moving with his in a perfect rhythm. He let his hands slide to her back, pulling her closer, feeling the warmth of her body pressing into his.

Mason’s lips moved against hers with a fire he hadn’t realized he’d been holding back. Her hands were in his hair now, tangled and desperate, while his arms wrapped around her like he never wanted to let her go. When she shifted, sliding onto his lap — legs gently bracketing his sides — something in him nearly snapped. His hands gripped her hips, grounding himself, as her body pressed even closer to his.

It was heat and longing and a thousand quiet thoughts neither of them had dared to say out loud — all of it pouring into a kiss that felt like it had been building since the moment they met.

And then she felt it.

Her breath hitched — just slightly — as the realization hit, right there beneath her. Her body tensed against his, just enough for Mason to pull back a fraction and look into her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed, lips slightly parted, breath uneven. But there was something else too — something startled and soft and almost shy.

“Are you…” she started, voice quiet, uncertain.

Mason blinked, still breathless. “Uh… yeah.” he said, a little sheepish, his lips quirking up into a crooked grin. “Can’t really help it when you’re literally on top of me looking like that, by the way.”

Adeline let out a half-laugh, burying her face in the crook of his neck, mortified and flustered all at once. “God, Mason…”

“I know, I know.” he murmured, chuckling as he gently stroked her back. “I ruined the moment. Or, well, you kind of ruined me, technically.”

She laughed again, the sound muffled against his skin, and then pulled back enough to meet his eyes. Her expression was gentler now — softer, more grounded, though her cheeks were still pink.

“I think we should stop.” she said, brushing her fingertips lightly over his jaw. “Not because I don’t want to keep going — because trust me, I do — but…”

“But... you want this to be more than just a moment.” Mason finished for her, his voice quieter now, sincere.

She nodded, eyes locked on his. “Exactly. I don’t want it to feel like a reaction.”

“It doesn’t.” he assured her, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “But I’m glad you said it. Because if we keep going…” He exhaled a shaky breath, smiling again. “I’m not sure I’d stop.”

“So much for a gentleman.” Adeline gave a teasing raise of her eyebrows.

“Oh, I’m still a gentleman.” he said with a smirk, sliding his hand to her waist. “Just… one who’s been very, very patient.”

That made her laugh, and she leaned in to kiss him again — this one slower, warmer, a kiss of gratitude and promise.

She rested her forehead against his afterward, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Thank you. For making me feel… safe. And wanted.”

Mason’s hands slid to the small of her back, keeping her close. “You have no idea how wanted you are.”

And they sat there for a while, hearts racing and lips still tingling, the sound of the rain wrapping around them like a lullaby. They didn’t have to rush. For the first time in a long time, everything felt like it was exactly where it was meant to be.

(...)

The first light of morning was pale and golden, stretching quietly through the curtains and warming the living room with a sleepy stillness.

Mason stirred slowly, his body stiff from the awkward angle he’d fallen asleep in — but he didn’t move. Not right away.

Because Adeline was still there. Tucked into his side, her legs curled beneath her, one hand resting gently on his chest. Her hair was a little messy, strands brushing his chin, and her breathing was soft — calm in a way he hadn’t seen very often.

His arm was wrapped around her waist, keeping her close. The blanket had fallen halfway off, but neither of them seemed to mind the cool air. It wasn’t cold, not with the warmth still humming between them.

Mason’s heart beat a little faster remembering the night before — the kiss, the way she looked at him, the way she’d sat on his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way she stopped things before they went too far, her body trembling against his. The way she smiled after.

He glanced toward the window. The sky was grey, but the rain had stopped.

Adeline stirred against him, her lashes fluttering before her eyes opened slowly. She blinked, looking up at him, and for a moment they just stared at each other — no words, just a quiet acknowledgment that something had shifted between them.

“Morning.” he murmured, voice still rough from sleep.

“Hi.” she whispered, barely awake, lips curling slightly. Her cheeks flushed as she seemed to remember where she was — and with who.

She didn’t pull away.

Mason smiled, brushing her hair back gently. “You drooled on me.”

Adeline let out a soft laugh, hiding her face against his chest. “Liar.”

“I'm serious.” he said, grinning. “It’s okay. I’ll allow it — just this once.”

"You're so dramatic, Mase." She let out a muffled laugh against his chest.

“And, yet, you keep coming back.” He nudged her gently, his hand rubbing slow, affectionate circles on her lower back. “Kinda your fault, really.”

“Maybe I like drama.” Her voice was still hushed with sleep.

“Careful, Ady.” he warned playfully, leaning in to nuzzle her temple. “I’m dangerously close to taking that as permission to start chaos.”

Adeline shifted slightly, moving to look up at him more fully. Her eyes still carried sleep, but there was something warmer there now — something unguarded. “You already do. Just in very charming ways.”

“Charming, huh?” Mason’s thumb brushed along her cheekbone.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

Her smile faltered just a little as she studied him, fingers still resting over his chest. “I… I don’t usually wake up like this.”

Mason gave her a small, knowing smile, brushing a strand of her hair back gently. “Yeah.” he murmured. “I mean… I used to.”

Her brow arched, teasing already in her tone. “Shocker.”

He laughed under his breath, not denying it. “Okay. There were a few... mornings.” His fingers grazed her waist, his voice softer now. “But none that felt like this.”

Adeline’s teasing faltered just slightly, a spark of something warmer catching in her chest.

Mason held her gaze, his thumb tracing a light line over the side of her arm. “Waking up next to someone and not wanting to move… that’s new.”

She blinked, taken a bit off guard by his honesty, the weight in his voice.

“You’re trouble, Alderidge.” he added with a quiet grin. “Didn’t see you coming.”

She smiled, letting her fingers trail lightly down the fabric of his shirt. “Guess that makes two of us, Mount.”

And for a few heartbeats, they just lay there, quiet and warm in each other’s space — before that knock broke through the soft stillness.

His entire body tensed.

Adeline’s brows drew together slightly as she looked up at him. “Was that—?”

“Shit.” Mason muttered, eyes going wide. He sat up a little too fast, nearly knocking her off the couch. “Sorry. I— I completely forgot.”

She blinked, dazed and slightly amused. “What?”

This time the knock was followed by the very recognizable sound of Ben Chilwell’s voice.

“Oi, Mounty! Open up, mate, it’s freezing out here!”

Mason winced. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”

“Who is that?” Adeline sat upright now, the blanket pooling around her waist.

“Ben. And probably Declan too.” He raked a hand through his hair. “They’re giving me a lift to training. I said I’d join a light session today, remember? I was supposed to meet some of the lads and the coach. They’re just here for moral support.”

“You forgot your own training session?” she asked, somewhere between amused and horrified.

“Well, yeah— I was distracted.”

“By what?” Her eyes narrowed playfully.

“You. Obviously.” Mason smirked, pressing a quick kiss to her shoulder.

She shoved his chest lightly, laughing, but the knock came again — followed by Declan’s voice this time.

“Mase, I swear to God if you made us come out in the cold for no reason—”

“Okay, okay!” Mason stood up, looking toward the hallway. “You.” he pointed at Adeline, voice low and teasing, “Stay out of sight. Or don’t. Actually, I’m kind of into the idea of watching Ben lose his mind.”

Adeline was already standing, smoothing down her shirt and glancing toward the hallway. “No way. I’m not ready for that kind of morning chaos.”

“Bedroom’s right down there.” he said, gesturing, voice gentler now. “Guest room. Lily’s still asleep. Just... stay there for now. Please?”

She nodded, hesitating for only a second before slipping down the hallway silently.

Mason let out a breath, ran a hand over his face, and made his way to the front door.

When he opened it, both Declan and Ben were there, coffees in hand, and identical expressions of smug suspicion.

“Well, someone’s glowing.” Ben looked him up and down.

“You told us to meet you at your old place and then didn’t answer for ten minutes. Thought you’d fallen back into a coma or something.” Declan gave Mason a look.

“I forgot what day it was.” Mason muttered, stepping aside as Ben followed Declan in, eyeing the living room suspiciously. “Also, it’s Sunday, who wears jeans to answer the door?”

Ben sniffed the air. “Is that... shampoo and rain?”

Mason rolled his eyes. “You're both exhausting.”

“Is someone here?” Declan asked, suddenly peeking into the kitchen like he expected to see a woman holding a pan. “You’re acting suspicious, mate.”

“Nope.” Mason said, too quickly. “Just me. I was—resting.”

“Resting on the couch with two mugs on the table and an extra blanket?” Ben cocked his head.

Mason groaned. “You know, I thought I missed this—your charming commentary. Turns out, I didn’t.”

Declan flopped onto the couch. “Mate, we’re just glad you’re coming back today. Three months without you giving us grief has been unbearable.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for coming.” Mason grinned despite himself.

As the boys settled in, Adeline’s soft footsteps creaked down the hallway. She didn’t mean to be seen — probably just checking on Lily — but Ben caught the movement.

“Was that—?” He turned sharply toward the hallway.

Mason froze.

“No way.” Declan’s eyes went wide.

Adeline stepped into view, half-wrapped in the blanket she’d carried with her, trying to pretend she hadn’t just heard everything.

“Mounty.” Ben’s jaw dropped.

Mason sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right, so this is happening.”

Adeline looked at Mason, cheeks pink, unsure whether to laugh or hide again. “Uh—morning.”

Ben practically jumped to his feet, looking between her and Mason like he’d just uncovered a government conspiracy. “Mount, you absolute rat! You said you were crashing here alone for the weekend!”

“I was.” Mason said flatly. “Then plans changed. And I forgot you two were showing up at the crack of dawn.”

Declan, far less surprised than Ben, just smirked from the armchair, giving Mason a pointed look. “I knew something was up when you told me not to come to your place.”

Ben turned toward Adeline, all grins now. “You could’ve warned us, you know. Dropped a hint. Sent up a flare.”

“Sorry. I left my flare gun at home.” Adeline tightened the blanket around her shoulders, eyes flicking to Mason with amusement.

“Tone it down before you scare her off.” Declan chuckled, shooting Ben a warning glance.

Ben held up his hands in mock surrender. “What? I’m thrilled! She’s lovely, I’ve said that for ages. I just didn’t know Mounty had the charm to actually get her to spend the night.”

“You’re gonna lose teeth today.” Mason muttered.

Declan rolled his eyes. “Ignore him, Adeline.” he said to her. “He’s like this with literally everyone.”

“Noted.” Adeline smiled faintly, her posture relaxing a bit.

Ben was already digging around Mason’s kitchen. “Anyone want tea? Coffee? Mimosas? No? Cool, I’ll help myself anyway.”

Mason walked over to Adeline, leaning in close enough that only she could hear. “You doing okay?”

She nodded, her smile a little shy. “Yeah. Just wasn’t planning on the audience.”

Mason grinned, brushing his fingers against hers briefly. “They’ll tire themselves out. Like puppies. Loud, chaotic puppies.”

Adeline laughed under her breath, and Mason looked at her like he was already memorizing the sound.

(...)

The smell of coffee and eggs filled the air not long after Ben raided Mason’s kitchen like a man on a mission. Somehow — against all odds — he’d managed to whip together scrambled eggs, toast, and even bacon without burning the place down. The four of them sat around the kitchen table, mugs in hand, plates full, and to Mason’s complete disbelief…

“This is actually good, mate.” Mason muttered, eyeing Ben suspiciously as he chewed another bite of toast.

“I contain multitudes, Mount. Maybe I’m secretly a domestic god.” Ben gave a smug shrug, sipping his coffee like a king.

Adeline laughed softly into her mug, and Ben grinned like he’d just won a trophy.

“Yeah, Dec. Laugh.” Ben said, pointing a fork at her. “But next time Mason burns toast, you’ll miss me.”

“You’re not coming back.” Mason snorted.

“Bold of you to assume I’m leaving, Mounty.”

Adeline was quiet at first — not distant, just a little unsure of how much space she could take up. But the warmth of the food, the way Ben and Declan bickered like an old married couple, and the way Mason kept brushing his knee gently against hers under the table slowly chipped away at her nerves.

She caught Declan watching her at one point — not judging, just observing. He offered her a kind smile. “All this a bit much?”

Adeline nodded, lips curling slightly. “Yeah. Just... not used to this many people in the morning.”

“You’re handling it well, though.” Declan said, before glaring at Ben. “Better than some.”

“I aim to disrupt, not disappoint.” Ben raised his toast in salute.

While the others chuckled, Mason quietly slid his hand beneath the table and rested it gently on Adeline’s thigh. She stiffened just for a second — then relaxed. His fingers traced soft, soothing circles above her knee, grounding her. She looked at him briefly, eyes meeting his with a soft smile she hadn’t even realized she was holding in.

Then, tiny footsteps padded across the floor.

Everyone turned as Lily shuffled in, hair wild with sleep, blanket bundled in her arms. She rubbed one eye with her fist and blinked at the scene like she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or just very, very confused.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Adeline said softly, immediately opening her arms.

Lily walked over silently and climbed onto her mom’s lap, burying her face in her chest like she was trying to hide from the new faces.

“Oh no. Nope. You can’t just exist like that, it’s not fair.” Ben melted.

“Hi, Lily. I’m Declan. That idiot over there is Ben.” Declan leaned slightly forward, offering Lily a soft wave.

“Rude.” Ben put a hand on his chest, wounded.

Lily peeked up at them, her grip on Adeline’s shirt still tight.

“I’ve got a son.” Declan added, voice still soft. “His name’s Jude. He’s about your age. Bit obsessed with dinosaurs and peanut butter sandwiches. I think you two would get on.”

Lily didn’t answer, but she gave a tiny nod and ducked her head again.

“She’s not really a morning talker.” Adeline said with a small smile, smoothing her daughter’s hair.

“She’ll fit right in.” Mason said, leaning closer. “Neither’s Ben, but we still let him sit at the table.”

Ben threw a bit of toast at him.

Lily giggled.

It was the kind of moment Adeline hadn’t realized she missed. The kind of morning that felt like more than just breakfast — it felt like something building. Something solid. A maybe.

She looked down at Lily in her arms, and across at Mason — his hand still resting warmly on her leg — and for the first time in a long time, the ache in her chest didn’t feel heavy. It felt... like hope.

Ben was still gloating over how his scrambled eggs had gotten more praise than his footwork ever had, while Mason leaned back in his chair, one hand draped under the table, fingers resting lazily on Adeline’s leg. She hadn’t said anything about it, but she hadn’t moved either — and the quiet rhythm of his thumb brushing over her skin had become oddly comforting.

Lily sat curled in her lap, sleep still tugging at her eyes, blanket clutched in one small fist.

Declan took a sip of coffee and reached for another slice of toast. “Jude’s the same. Last week he tried to feed his fish chocolate cereal because he thought it ‘looked sad.’” His mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile too much.

“Is he your only one?” Adeline looked up from her coffee, her curiosity piqued.

“Yeah. Just Jude. Full-time hurricane, part-time genius.” Declan nodded.

“How old is he?” She smiled at that, brushing a crumb from Lily’s cheek.

“Four. Next month.” Declan replied. “Wants to be a footballer and a astronaut, depending on the day.”

“That’s a solid backup plan.” Adeline’s laugh came soft but real.

“He’s got it all figured out.” Declan said, warmth in his voice. “We split time between me and his mom. It’s a bit of a juggle, but… worth it.”

She watched him for a second — how casual but genuine he was. There was no discomfort, no awkwardness in the way he talked about co-parenting. It was just life.

“I didn’t grow up with much of that.” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. “People making it work. I always thought if something fell apart, that was it. End of story.”

Mason’s hand gave a gentle squeeze to her leg under the table, a quiet grounding gesture that made her blink back to the moment.

Declan caught the shift in her tone, but didn’t pry. “Jude’s taught me more about being steady than I ever thought I needed. You don’t really get it until someone small’s watching you all the time, you know?”

“Yes. I know.” Adeline nodded slowly.

Lily stirred a little, lifting her head sleepily. Her curls were tangled, her eyes half-open as she looked around the table. She turned her head into her mom’s chest again, too shy to say anything.

Ben lowered his toast slightly. “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

Lily peeked at him but said nothing.

Declan, more gently, leaned forward a bit. "I bet you two would have fun drawing on walls together or something equally chaotic.”

That got the faintest smile from her — one of those shy, secretive little ones that made Mason’s chest feel full.

“She’s got a good poker face.” Ben muttered. “Kid’s gonna be terrifying when she’s fifteen.”

“You have no idea.” Adeline smirked as she kissed the top of Lily’s head.

Mason leaned in then, brushing a hand along her back, fingers slow and warm. “You’re doing great, you know.” he said quietly, only for her.

She glanced at him, cheeks tinged with pink — but her smile said she believed him.

(...)

Mason stood in front of the mirror, one hand smoothing down the hem of his Manchester United jersey — the number 7 bold against the red fabric. His fingers hesitated at the edge, brushing over the badge like it might anchor him somehow.

He was almost dressed, only his socks and trainers left to go. But his shoulders were tense, his jaw tight. His eyes kept flicking up to the mirror and then back down, like he was trying to will the nerves away.

A soft knock tapped against the doorframe.

“It's open.” he said, distracted.

“It’s just me.” Adeline’s voice came gently.

He turned as she stepped into the room, her hair still loose around her shoulders, one of his hoodies draped over her clothes. She looked sleepy and soft and entirely out of place next to his sharp kit and the weight of expectations he hadn’t felt in months — but also, somehow, exactly right.

She paused when she saw him standing there, half-dressed in full kit. Her eyes lingered just a little longer than necessary — on the jersey, yes, but also the way the fabric hugged his chest, the way the tattoos inked across his ribs and arm looked more like stories than designs.

“Sorry.” she said, blinking as if catching herself. “Didn’t mean to stare.”

“I don’t mind.” Mason gave her a lopsided grin, but it was strained.

Adeline took a few steps closer, noticing the silence stretching around him like static. She stopped beside him, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“Nervous?” she asked, voice low, careful.

“A bit.” He didn’t lie.

“You’ve done this a hundred times.” She reached out, brushing her fingers along the hem of his sleeve.

“Not after something like this, though.” he muttered. “They’ll be watching. Wondering if I’ve still got it, or if I’m just… done.”

“So? Let them wonder. That’s not your job.” Her gaze found his in the mirror again, calm and steady.

“You always this good at motivational speeches?” He gave a quiet huff of air, almost a laugh.

She stepped in front of him now, her hands finding his waist — just resting there, grounding him. “I’m good at seeing through your crap.”

“Lucky me, then.” Mason tilted his head, letting his forehead drop against hers, the contact was soft, but intimate — something quieter than last night, but somehow just as important.

“You’re going to do fine, Mase.” she said softly, fingertips brushing the fabric of his jersey. “Better than fine. And even if you mess it up, I’m still gonna be here when you get back.”

Mason exhaled slowly, her words settling over the nerves curling in his chest. He looked down at her, searching her expression — not for reassurance, but for something steadier. Something that felt like home.

“You mean… here as in the flat?” he asked, his voice low. “Did you decide?”

Adeline blinked, caught for a second — not off guard, just... feeling the weight of what he was really asking.

“I think so, yes.” she said, a small smile playing on her lips. “It makes sense. Close to work, close to Lily’s daycare. And…”

“And?”

“You’re not far.” she said, not looking away. “Which is… nice.”

Mason’s hand found her hip again, warm and grounding. His thumb moved in slow circles, like he couldn’t help himself. “It’s more than nice.”

“You’re just saying that because I saw you shirtless five minutes ago.” Adeline tilted her head, her smile deepening.

He let out a breath of a laugh, brushing his nose lightly against hers. “You’d be surprised how often I’ve used that trick and it didn’t get me a real answer.”

“Bet it worked on most.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I wasn’t really asking anyone else to stay.” His grin turned softer.

Adeline’s heart fluttered at that. Not because it was grand or showy — but because it was real. Honest in a way that made her feel steady on the inside.

She leaned into him just a bit, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I said yes.”

“You haven’t signed anything yet, Alderidge.” he teased, echoing her from the night before.

“No, but I’ve got good instincts, Mount.” she said, hand slipping down to lightly fix the hem of his jersey. “This one feels right.”

“So do you.” He took her hand, lacing their fingers.

For a moment, they just stood there, silent except for the low sounds of Lily and the boys in the living room — like a life quietly waiting outside the doorway.

“I should go.” Mason glanced at the clock.

Adeline nodded, even though her fingers didn’t loosen right away.

“You’ve got this, Mase.” she whispered. “Go remind them who you are.”

“I’ll be back after. You gonna be here?” Mason kissed her hand, lingering just a second longer than needed.

She smirked. “You just asked me that five minutes ago.”

“Yeah, well…” he leaned in close, brushing her temple with his lips. “Some answers I like hearing more than once.”

(...)

Adeline stood by the window of Mason’s flat, watching the gentle mist that blurred the skyline. She still couldn’t quite believe how things had shifted in just a few days. What started as an awkward stay during a storm had unraveled something much deeper — in her, in him, and in the quiet spaces they now shared. It was more than comfort. It was the first time in a long while she felt safe without being on edge. And for Lily, it already felt like home.

She turned from the window, crossing the room toward the living space where Lily was curled up on the floor, her coloring books spread out like tiny canvases. Adeline sat beside her, brushing back a lock of her daughter’s hair.

“Hi, bug.” she said softly. “Can I ask you something important?”

“What?” Lily glanced up, eyes bright.

“What would you think about staying here for a little while? Just until the apartment’s fixed.”

“Really?” Lily gasped.

Adeline nodded. “Really. Mason said it’s okay.”

“Do I get to sleep in the big cozy bed again?”

“Sure.” Adeline laughed. “And he said we can bring your toys and books. Make it feel like it’s ours for now.”

Lily’s smile stretched so wide it made Adeline’s chest ache. “Then yes! Yes, please! Do I get to see Mase more?”

“Probably.” Adeline’s cheeks warmed, but she nodded.

“Cool.” Lily grinned.

Later that morning, after Lily was happily settled in front of the TV, Adeline grabbed her phone and texted Mason.

Adeline: Hey, just talked to Lily about the flat. Heading to Stella’s to grab some stuff.

He responded almost immediately.

Mason: Hey, you. Just arrived at Old Trafford. Let me know if I can help with anything.

Adelie smiled, she wouldn't get used to this type of feeling easily.

(...)

When Adeline stepped into Stella’s apartment, she was instantly met with the familiar scent of vanilla and sandalwood — one of Stella’s favorite candles still burning faintly on the entryway shelf. The place was quiet, warm, a little cluttered. A couple of empty plates sat on the kitchen counter next to an open bottle of wine and two mismatched glasses, one with lipstick on the rim.

Lily wandered ahead with her tote of toys slung over her shoulder, immediately making her way toward the small rug in the living room. Adeline smiled softly, then turned at the sound of footsteps.

Stella appeared from the hallway, barefoot and still in a robe, her hair wild and cheeks flushed with sleep — or maybe something else.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to show her face.” she said with a grin. “You didn’t even text me last night, Ady. I thought you were coming back after dinner!”

“I was going to…” Adeline started, slipping off her shoes. “But things kind of… escalated.”

“Oh?” Stella’s eyebrows shot up.

“Lily’s occupied. You wanna sit?” Adeline dropped her bag by the door and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Absolutely.” Stella grabbed the bottle of wine off the counter, still half-full, and poured a little more into her glass. “You’ve got the look of someone who needs to spill.”

Adeline exhaled, then followed her into the living room. They sat across from each other, Stella curling up like she always did, her expression equal parts amusement and curiosity.

“So?” she prompted. “What happened? I want everything.”

Adeline hesitated for half a second. Then the words just came.

“We kissed.”

“You what?” Stella blinked.

“It started slow. Then… not so slow.” She let out a laugh.

“How not-slow?” Her friend leaned in, wide-eyed.

Adeline covered her face with one hand, laughing softly. “Rough hands. On my waist. My thighs. His lap. My shirt was… halfway off.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“And then?”

Adeline dropped her hand. “I stopped it. It was too much. Lily on the room right next to us. But, then he was — he didn’t get mad, he didn’t push, he just… held me.”

“Okay. That’s hot. And sweet. And kind of perfect.” Stella’s face softened.

“It kind of was.” Adeline paused, watching Lily babble to herself, stacking tiny toy horses in a neat row. “He made me feel — safe. Not just in the moment. The whole night.”

“And?” Stella gave her a moment, then nudged.

“I’m borrowing his flat. Lily and I are gonna stay there for a bit until mine’s fixed.” Adeline met her eyes.

“Wow.” Stella let out a low whistle.

“I talked to Lily about it. She’s happy. She actually asked if it meant she gets to see Mason more often.”

“Well, she’s not wrong.” Stella’s grin grew.

“I just…” Adeline looked down, fingers twisting in her lap. “I’m not confused anymore. I want this. I’m just scared. Because it’s not just me. It’s Lily. And if she gets attached, if this goes wrong...”

Stella reached over and took her hand. “It’s okay to be scared, babes. But this doesn’t sound wrong. It sounds like something good. Something new. You deserve that. And so does she.”

Her chest still carried the flutter of nerves — but maybe, finally, she was ready to let something beautiful happen.

“Anyway.” Adeline said, finally exhaling, smiling despite herself. “That’s enough about me. Tell me about your date last night.”

“Oh God, Ady, the man was six-foot-four, had the jawline of a Greek statue, and wore cologne like he was in a bloody perfume commercial.” Stella lit up instantly, waving a dismissive hand.

Adeline laughed, relaxing into the chair as she sipped her tea.

“But...” Stella went on, grinning. “He used the word ‘synergy’. Twice. In bed. While trying to dirty talk.”

“No.” Adeline nearly choked on her tea.

“Oh, yes.” Stella nodded solemnly. “He looked me dead in the eye and said—and I quote—‘I think our bodies are syncing in perfect synergy.’”

“You’re lying.” Adeline’s laughter spilled out, real and effortless.

“I wish I was.” Stella leaned forward conspiratorially. “And then he asked if I’d ever considered investing in crypto. While he was—well, you get the picture.”

They both collapsed into laughter, even as Adeline shook her head. “You deserve a medal for surviving that.”

Stella grinned. “Well, the sex was decent, but the conversation? Brutal. He left at 3 a.m. and I ate leftover tiramisu in bed with a face mask on. Honestly, might’ve been the best part of the night.”

Adeline leaned her head on her hand, smiling warmly. “You’re the most unapologetically chaotic person I know.”

“And proud of it.” Stella gave her a wink.

Just then, Adeline’s phone buzzed against the table.

She barely glanced at it at first — distracted, still riding the lightness of the conversation — but then her eyes landed on the screen.

She froze.

Stella didn’t notice right away, still reaching for another biscuit, chatting on. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you, I spilled wine on his—”

Adeline’s fingers slowly curled around the phone, face paling just a bit.

“Hey…” Stella paused. “What's wrong, babes?”

Adeline swallowed. Her voice was soft when she spoke. “It’s a number from Surrey.”

That was all she had to say.

Stella sat straighter, her expression shifting.

Adeline didn’t answer the call. The screen dimmed. Then it buzzed again — a second call, same number.

She let it go.

Her tea sat untouched.

“I haven’t heard from anyone there in four years.” Adeline murmured, eyes still fixed on the now-dark phone screen.

“Maybe it’s nothing, Ady.” Stella reached across the table, placing her hand over Adeline’s gently.

The soft, lingering tension between laughter and unease settled like mist in the room. Neither of them spoke. Not yet. But they both knew:

The past had just knocked on her door.

And it didn’t matter how far she’d run — it had found her anyway.

(...)

The moment his boots hit the grass, something in his chest tightened.

It was the familiar scent — turf and sweat, mixed with crisp morning air — but it felt foreign now. Distant. Like he was trying to remember an old version of himself.

Carrington hadn’t changed. The fields were still pristine, marked with clean white lines. The echo of shouts and laughter in the distance. The distant sound of photographers already pointed in his direction — unmistakable. Mason didn’t look. He didn’t need to. He’d played enough to know when the lens was aimed at him.

He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath that fogged in the cold.

“You made it.” Bruno Fernandes jogged up beside him, a half-grin on his face, clapping a hand against his back. “Thought you’d be hiding until summer.”

Mason smirked. “Still might. If my knee gives out again, I’m blaming you.”

“You’ll be fine.” Bruno laughed, motioning for him to follow toward the warmup cones.

“Cheers, mate.” Mason said, glancing around. He caught sight of Garnacho doing tricks with a ball like it was glued to his foot, and Maguire stretching with a grimace nearby.

“Oi, Mount.” Maguire called. “Back from the dead?”

“Barely.” Mason called back, rolling his eyes. “Don’t make me chase you. I’ll tear something again.”

They laughed, but Mason’s heart was still beating too fast. Not from nerves exactly — though that too — but from the pressure. The unspoken weight.

He could hear the cameras again.

They’d post the pictures. The fans would talk. Comment. Speculate.

Was he back too soon? Was he worth the money? Was he done?

He bent down, laced his boots tighter, and stood up again.

But something inside him didn’t crack like it usually did.

He felt… steadier.

Images of the morning flickered through his mind.

Adeline’s voice. Her hand on his chest.

Her saying she’d be there when he got back. That damn blanket wrapped around Adeline’s shoulders as she laughed at something Ben said.

He wasn’t just walking back onto the pitch for himself anymore.

“Mount, everything alright?” Garnacho called.

“Yeah.” Mason jogged over, joining them in a light passing drill. The ball came to him fast — he trapped it, sent it on, footwork sharp despite the months away.

“Still got it.” Bruno gave him a look.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” Mason muttered, but he couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his mouth.

He moved through the drills, sweat starting to bead at the base of his neck, joints groaning but holding steady. The pitch started to feel more familiar again, like it remembered him too. Like he belonged.

And through it all — under the tension, under the noise — that calm from earlier remained.

Adeline.

He wasn’t foolish enough to call it love. Not, yet.

And even with the pressure, the photographers, the aching muscles and the question marks hanging over his future... For the first time in months, he's okay.

(...)

The whistle blew, signaling a water break. Mason jogged toward the benches, his breath steady but his heart racing a little more than he liked. It wasn’t the physical strain — it was the pressure. The eyes. The clicking of lenses. Always watching.

He grabbed a water bottle, unscrewing the cap with slightly shaky fingers. But, he wasn’t alone for long.

“Mason.” A female voice, crisp and practiced, cut through the murmur of the pitch.

He glanced sideways. A woman in her mid-thirties stood just off the touchline. Sharp blazer, notebook in hand, her media pass flashing in the sunlight. He recognized her vaguely — not tabloids, but not exactly subtle either.

“Yeah?” He gave a curt nod.

“First day back, and already half the fanbase’s got your name trending.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Mind a quick word for The Daily Mail?”

“If it’s quick.” Mason took a sip of water.

“Sure.” She flipped open her notebook. “So — how’s the knee? Any lingering pain? You moved well out there, but is it more show than truth?”

“It’s solid. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” He blinked.

She hummed, jotting something. “And mentally? You’ve been off for months. Not everyone bounces back from that. Some say it messes with your head more than your legs.”

“I’m not here to prove anything, I’m here to play.” Mason’s jaw flexed slightly.

She tilted her head. “Funny. Because some people also noticed you’ve been looking... different lately. Happier. Settled. New distractions, maybe?”

That struck a nerve. He didn’t show it — not exactly — but his eyes cooled, and his posture stiffened just enough.

“If you’re done.” he said calmly. “I’ve got training to finish.”

“Just doing my job.” She smiled again, thin and unreadable.

“And I’m doing mine.” Mason replied simply, and turned without waiting for another word.

The clicks of lenses followed him back toward the center of the pitch — but his thoughts were far from them now.

He turned back toward the group before the journalist could find out something deeper.

Bruno caught up beside him again, tossing him a knowing glance.

“What was that about?”

“Headline Hunters. Standard.” Mason said, though he still felt the weight of the question.

“Thought you handled it well, mate.” Bruno replied, tapping his fist against Mason’s shoulder.

Mason gave a low laugh, more to himself than anyone else.

He wasn’t sure what the headlines would say tomorrow.

But he knew what mattered — and right now, it wasn’t printed in black and white.

It was warm hands, sleepy voices, the scent of coffee in a kitchen that didn’t used to be his, and the feeling of walking out the door with someone waiting behind.

(...)

The moment Adeline stepped into the lobby, Lily hopping beside her with her backpack bouncing, the doorman gave a polite nod.

“Good afternoon, Miss Alderidge. There’s a package for your unit.”

Adeline blinked. “A package?”

He motioned behind the desk and handed her a sleek white box, neatly tied with a black satin ribbon. It was heavier than she expected. There was no label, no logo — just her name, handwritten in firm, neat script.

“Thank you...” she murmured, cradling the box as they rode the elevator up.

Lily was too busy recounting the story of a glitter-related disaster at school to pay attention, but Adeline couldn’t stop eyeing the box.

Mason hadn’t mentioned anything.

She opened the flat door, let Lily dash inside, and gently set the package on the kitchen counter. She hesitated — then pulled the ribbon loose and flipped the lid.

Her breath caught.

The pink dress. The one she’d tried on the night before at the boutique. The one she couldn’t afford, even if she stretched her budget for three months straight. It shimmered even in the soft kitchen light.

Tucked between the folds of the fabric was a small envelope, cream-colored and sealed with a little smudge of black ink.

She opened it — and inside was a card with Mason’s handwriting.

"You couldn't get it. So I did. Alderidge, you deserve to feel exactly like what you are: unforgettable." — M

Adeline stood in the middle of Mason’s flat, the soft light from the windows washing over the pink silk fabric nestled inside the box.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Then looked again — as if the dress might suddenly vanish and reveal itself as part of her imagination. But no, it was still there. The same dusty pink gown she’d tried on the night before, the one she’d twirled in, laughed in, loved in... and left behind because the price was absolutely ridiculous.

Her fingers trembled as she lifted the card tied to the black ribbon. She read the note again, out loud this time, because maybe hearing it would help her believe it.

“Mason.” she whispered, as if he might appear out of thin air and explain himself. “I'm going to kill him.” she muttered, then paused. “But like... hug him first. And then kill him.”

The dress was beautiful. Extremely beautiful. And expensive. He bought it.

For her.

She set the card down carefully on the counter, still holding the edge of the fabric between her fingers. The silk pooled like liquid in her palm, soft and lush and more elegant than anything she’d ever owned in her entire life.

(...)

Mason pushed open the door to the flat, balancing his bag on one shoulder as he stepped inside. The familiar scent of Adeline’s shampoo lingered faintly in the air, mixing with something warm and a little floral. It was quiet, softer than usual, and for a second he thought no one was home.

But then he noticed a few new things.

A cozy pink throw folded neatly over the back of the couch. A small basket of Lily’s books tucked beside the TV stand. A mug — definitely not his — left by the sink, with little crescent moons on it. Adeline’s handwriting on a sticky note near the fridge.

She’d brought things.

Not just things — hers. Little bits of her and Lily, settling in, without needing to ask.

His chest tightened.

He set his bag down gently and made his way through the flat, glancing down the hall toward the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and a soft light spilled out onto the hardwood floor.

Pushing it open, Mason stepped inside.

Lily was curled up under the duvet, her thumb loosely tucked near her mouth, blanket half-draped over her shoulder. The television played quietly in the background, muted cartoons flickering on the screen. And Adeline — Adeline wasn’t asleep.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, knees tucked up, wearing a grey t-shirt. Her eyes met his the moment he stepped in, something unreadable but warm flickering behind them.

“Hey.” he whispered.

She didn’t answer at first. Just walked slowly, padding across the room without a word, her gaze locked on his.

And then — in one smooth, impulsive move — she was in his arms, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as she hugged him with a kind of quiet urgency. Mason caught her instinctively, hands resting under her thighs to hold her steady, breath caught somewhere in his throat.

“Well, hello.” he murmured, chuckling softly into her hair.

“You bought me the dress, Mase.” she said against his neck, voice muffled, almost accusing — but not really.

“I did.” he replied, kissing the top of her head. “You were too busy talking yourself out of it.”

“You absolute sneak.” She pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes shining. “You went behind my back and bought me a dress that costs more than my rent.”

“I wouldn’t say behind your back, exactly.” he teased. “More like… tactically over your shoulder.”

Her lips quirked. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And, you’re welcome.”

She laughed then — quietly, breathlessly — resting her forehead against his. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Mason said softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Just wear it. Look like the vision you are, and let me sit here knowing you’ll be the most unforgettable person in the room.”

Adeline’s heart flipped, her fingers curling into the collar of his hoodie.

She wanted to say something clever. Tease him, maybe. But all that came out was a soft, quiet: “Thank you.”

He nodded once, serious now. “Anytime.”

And for a while, they didn’t move, wrapped up in that quiet moment between them, held in place by soft light and slower breaths.

(...)

Monday mornings weren’t usually gentle, but this one carried a different kind of weight.

Adeline woke up slowly to the soft sound of the city beyond the window, sunlight filtering through the curtains. The flat still didn’t feel entirely hers — not with the way his scent lingered in the air, with his trophies and books quietly claiming corners of the space. But after a week of living there, she’d grown comfortable in a way that scared her. Everything felt too easy. Too safe.

Lily was already awake, sitting cross-legged on the rug in the living room with her cereal, watching cartoons while the morning news played in the background on mute. They got ready together — Adeline brushing Lily’s curls, tying the laces of her tiny shoes, pressing a kiss to her forehead before dropping her off at daycare with a tight hug.

By the time Adeline stepped into the hospital, the day was already in full swing. Her shift was packed, as always — a steady rhythm of patients, notes, questions, and quiet moments of recovery. Mason’s physiotherapy sessions were once a week now, which meant she hadn’t seen him since the weekend. A week since that kiss. Since that moment in the living room when it felt like the world briefly stopped spinning.

They hadn’t defined anything — no labels, no promises — but there was an undercurrent now. A softness between them. A safety she wasn’t used to feeling.

She liked it. But, she didn’t know what it meant.

Mid-morning, she was walking through one of the quieter corridors of the hospital, chart tucked under her arm, when she turned a corner and nearly collided with a tall figure.

“God. Sorry, Adeline.” Elliot said, steadying her with a hand. “Didn’t mean to ambush you.”

She laughed lightly, stepping back. “No ambush. I’m just moving too fast, as usual.”

“You’re always moving fast.” He smiled, boyish and kind as ever. “I was actually hoping I’d bump into you.”

“Oh. Really?”

“The fundraising event this weekend. You’re going, right?”

“Sure, I was planning on it.” Adeline hesitated.

“Great. I figured we could go together — I mean, not together together. Just, you know, a familiar face. If you wanted.”

It was harmless. Elliot had always been warm and respectful, if a little awkward. She didn’t see any issue in going with him. Just a ride, a colleague. A way to avoid showing up alone.

But before she could answer, her phone buzzed in the pocket of her scrubs.

She gave Elliot a quick apologetic glance. “Sorry, just one second.”

She pulled it out, her eyes locking onto the screen.

Stella: Okay don’t freak out but a friend of mine just sent me this. Apparently it’s making the rounds on some pages. Don’t hate me for saying it, but you actually look kinda cute.

There's a link attached and a lot of... photos.

Adeline’s brows pulled together as she tapped it. The screen brightened with a low-resolution photo: her, reusable tote bags over her arms, Lily skipping beside her in her pink sneakers. They were mid-laugh, clearly caught off-guard by the lense. The entrance to Mason’s building stood in the background, too familiar now to ignore.

She scrolled down. Another photo.

Mason, stepping out of his car a few hours later. He hadn’t even looked at the photographer, but someone had definitely spotted him.

And now, it was out there.

Adeline stared at the images, her brain skipping over the usual panic in favor of stunned quiet. It wasn’t like they were doing anything scandalous. Just walking. Existing. But there was something strange about being seen like that. Out of context. No control.

She let out a slow breath, rubbing her thumb across the screen before slipping the phone back into her pocket.

“Adeline. It's nothing.” she told herself under her breath, as if her body needed convincing. This wasn’t the end of the world. It wasn’t even shocking, not really.

She knew who Mason was. She knew his life came with attention — fans, photographers, gossips. She just hadn’t expected to be part of it so soon.

Or at all.

And, yet, here she was.

She texted Stella back almost immediately.

Adeline: Not freaking out. Just… weird seeing it, you know?”

Then, she tucked her phone away again, saying a quick goodbye to Elliot and headed toward her next consult.

It wasn’t a scandal. It wasn’t even a headline.

But, it was enough to remind her: she wasn’t invisible anymore.

And... neither was Lily.

(...)

[keirareidss]

don't you forget about me - s.r

♡ summary: spencer gets amnesia after an injury in the field.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 1.1k

Your shoes clicked as you speed walked through the hospital. You'd gotten a call from Penelope who told you that Spencer was in the hospital after a bad hit to the head. You brushed past doctors and nurses, finally making it to room 310 where Spencer probably sat alone in a hospital bed.

You pushed the door open, spotting Morgan sitting in a chair by the bed. You let out a little sigh of relief, glad that there had been someone here to keep him company. You can't take it anymore, rushing over to him.

"Oh, god, Spencer, are you alright? Are you in pain?" You stand next to his bed, leaning into his space and cupping his jaw, pushing back his hair with your other hand to inspect the stitched up cut on his temple. "I was so worried, but you were great out there." You sat on the bed next to his legs. "You took down the unsub all by yourself." You smiled, still worried for his health.

"Do I know you?" You freeze, smile still on your face, your expression turning more confused.

"Oh, funny joke, Spence. Ha ha." You teased, but there was slight worry in your eyes.

"I don't- are you JJ's friend?" Your smile slowly dropped off your face as you glanced back at Morgan, your face filling with fear. You turned back to Spencer.

"Honey, what day is it?"

"Uh, Monday I think. The 24th of October." He answers.

"And what year?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just what year is it Spencer?" You asked frantically.

"2004."

"Oh god." You gasped, getting up from the bed and putting a hand over your mouth as you turned you back to him.

"Okay, hey, it's alright." Morgan, who had been silent in shock, got up from his chair, rushing to comfort you.

"He doesn't remember any of the last four years, it is not alright!"

"Just calm down. I'll go get a doctor, the rest of the team will be here soon, just take a breath." You comply, breathing deep. "Here, sit down, I'll be right back." He guides you to a chair while Spencer watches confused from his place in the hospital bed. You rest your face in your hands, your elbows on your knees as the door shuts behind Derek.

"I'm sorry that I don't remember you." Spencer speaks quietly. You stay silent repeating the same sentence in your head over and over. This isn't happening. This isn't happening. Please.

-

"He does have a significant case of post-traumatic retrograde amnesia." The doctor confirms.

"Can it be treated?" You asked, JJ sitting next to you rubbing your back comfortingly.

"With time and reaffirmation he should recover most of his memories." The doctor nodded. You would get him to remember, you vowed. You were going to make him remember you.

Over the next few weeks, you visited him almost every day, staying as late as you could until the doctors had to practically drag you out. You sat by his bed, telling him the history of your relationship. How your first date was to a museum, he told you about every single piece of artwork and you had to convince the manager to let you stay an hour past closing which you would have felt bad about if Spencer hadn't been so adorable when he rambled.

You told him about how for your anniversary you took him to Greece to see the Archaeological site of Mycenae and afterwards, you both went back to the hotel, ordered pizza, and he let you show him a bunch of trashy rom-coms.

You told him about how when you got shot in the field and you had to stay home for a few months he took care of you. He made sure you rested, he made you dinner nearly every night, he took extra days off from work to stay and take care of you, and when he had to go on cases he made sure to text you every hour and call you every night. You told him everything you could think of about the two of you.

Like now, where you sat in the chair beside his bed as he ate jello. You'd brought him some jello when this all started and he'd been so adorably confused about how you knew what he liked.

"I can't believe I did that." Spencer blushes, embarrassed, after you told him the story of how he accidentally started a fire in your kitchen while trying to make you breakfast after your first night together.

"It was really sweet." You smiled. You both fell into a comfortable silence, the hum of the hospital machines acting as background noise. You were quiet, inspecting your nails until Spencer spoke up.

"This is gonna sound weird but… Can- can you kiss me?"

"What, like in a fairy tale? Like… like suddenly you remember everything because of true love's kiss?" You teased.

"True love? Do you love me?"

"…of course I do. I've loved you since the day we met. Actually that's a lie. I just like to tell you that because it sounds romantic. I did like you the first time we met but how could I not? You were this adorable little nerd, following Gideon around like a lost puppy. But the day I knew that I loved you was when you asked me to this Russian movie. You were whispering the translations to me but I wasn't even paying attention because you were next to me. We went out for ice cream after and you switched sides with me on the sidewalk so I was on the inside. It was something about that kind of made it click for me. I just knew I loved you. You were everything I ever wanted. And now you don't even remember me." You sighed in defeat, sniffling as you looked down at your lap, tears springing behind your eyes.

"Spring on Zarechnaya street." Spencer murmurs. You look up, confused. "The movie. It was Spring on Zarechnaya street. And… afterwards I bought you… black cherry ice cream. You dropped half of it on the sidewalk." He chuckles at the memory and then glances at you. Your eyes are wide, wet with tears, and you started at him shocked.

"Wha- you…?"

"I don't remember everything but some things are coming back." Spencer explains. You sniffle, wiping under your eyes.

"What else do you remember?"

"Just little things. Like... the time you fell asleep on me on the jet." You chuckled a bit.

"Which time?" You joked, making him smile.

"And I remember when we drove up to woodbridge for the weekend." Your smile grows wide and you lurch forward, pulling him into a hug.

"My Spencer's coming back." You joked. He chuckled, hugging you back. You pulled back to look in his eyes. "Just don't forget about me again."

a/n: I know this probably isn't how amnesia works but let's not talk about that :)

[yueichihara]

No Control.

Summary: It had been a month since the last time you saw each other. Long days at the hospital, surgeries and patients coming in non-stop had kept Zayne beyond your reach. You wonder, though, which of you is more touch-starved.

Content warnings: | MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | female!mc x Zayne | oral (Zayne receiving) | throat fucking | grinding | cumming in pants | almost! public sex | explicit content | graphic descriptions | MINORS DO NOT INTERACT |

Things were escalating out of control. With a hand cupping the back of your head, fingers tangled in your hair keeping you in place, his other hand dives up your dress skirt, raising your leg to lock it around his waist. He gropes your ass as he starts grinding against your core, his bulge slowly increasing in size with every stroke of his tongue against yours. You can feel the need behind every touch, making your mind melt at the thought of him wanting you this much. But being pressed against the wall in an alley behind Akso hospital, wasn't exactly the kind of romantic encounter you had in mind after a month of not seeing Zayne.

He'd barely uttered a mumbled hello before dragging you by the hand to a secluded place, his erratic breathing making you worry. He'd pressed himself against you and buried his face in your neck before kissing you. Normally, you wouldn't mind this desperate side of him. Damn, you even try to make it come out whenever you have the chance, going so far as to tease him in public places sometimes. But as you feel his mouth sucking at your neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin under your ear, his hand diving under your skirt and fingers brushing against your clit through your underwear, you realise you have to stop him now or he'll fuck you right then and there. And as much as you love the idea of him going crazy like that for you, you also know it would be something he would deeply regret once he calms back down.

Tapping him on his back, you call out to him. “Zayne.” No response. You hit him harder and raise your voice a little. “Zayne! I really need you to stop right now. Let's go home and we can continue there.”

You feel his body tremble as his grinding grows more erratic and finally stops. He slumps against you with a sigh and your eyes go wide at the realisation that he just came in his pants. Holding him tightly, you make soothing circles on his back, reassuring him everything's okay in soft whispers.

“I'm sorry.” He mutters, voice low.

“It's fine. It's perfectly fine. I'll call a car and we'll be back home in no time, okay?” Taking out your phone, you open the app and ask for a car, choosing the highest priority. His arms surround you, his face burrowed in your shoulder as he inhales deeply, his breath growing steady. You'd never seen him like this, barely holding himself together if at all, desperation and need taking control over everything else. If you'd been at home you would have relished in this newfound side of him, but you weren't.

When you announce the car's right around the corner, he pulls away, his calm and stoic demeanor making its appearance once again. Taking out his coat, he holds it in his hand in front of him, covering the stain and mess he made.

“Let's go.” He says with an apologetic smile, his hand reaching out, yours meeting his halfway. Using your other hand to make sure your own clothes and hair looks presentable, you make a point of leaving enough space in between you two, even when you're inside the car.

None of you speak in the car, but it's nothing new. Sitting in comfortable silence, you let your mind wander while looking at the sight outside the window. Your hand stays securely clasped in his.

Getting off at his home, he tugs you inside. He lets go, probably heading towards the bathroom to clean himself, but you catch his hand making him turn around.

It had been hard keeping yourself at bay, knowing that if you lost it too, it would only bring trouble. But you're no longer outside, so hell can break loose.

You can't keep your eyes away from the mess he made of himself, your tongue coming out to wet your lips. Looking up at him through your lashes, a move you made sure to master, knowing how much he liked to see you act all innocent when you’re about to do the most sinful thing you can imagine, you speak to him.

“Can I help you clean it up?” His gaze goes dark, a smirk playing at the tip of his lips. He comes closer, his hand going to cup your cheek.

“You would do that for me?” His restrains are back in place, but now you're sure it won't be for long. You won't allow it, not after him cumming on his own, leaving you breathless and on edge on that alley.

Nodding in affirmation, you kneel in front of him, not letting your gaze fall from his face. He lets go of your hand, gently placing his coat on the table beside you. Shifting your gaze to what's in front of you, you set to work on the sole button keeping it all together before unzipping his pants. It's a sight to behold, the stickiness dripping through the cloth of his underwear. He'd clearly not taken care of himself for weeks if not the whole month, if it was this bad. Your heart clenches at the thought of him not having enough time to relieve himself this way, getting home just to throw himself at his bed, sleep claiming him just to get up again and go back to work. You look behind him at the rest of the room, and sure enough, there's stuff laying around. Not enough to make it that much of a mess, but enough to let you know he's had no time to clean up.

“Focus on me.” He guides your chin with his hand to make you look back at him. “Don't get distracted by anything else.” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you decide to do just that.

You reach for his clothes and pull down both his pants and boxers at the same time, until they're pooling on the floor. His cock glistens with cum, still slightly hard from before. You drive a finger through his length, collecting cum on the tip of your finger. You look back up at him when you put it in your mouth, sucking it and letting it out with a pop. He shivers, his cock growing a little.

With a smirk, you lean over to follow the path your finger did before, this time with your tongue. His breaths are already unsteady, his hands clenched at his sides. And then you take him in, at least as much as you can without gagging. You use your hand to pump the rest of it as you move your head, his size growing with every second.

When he's at full mast, you decide it's time to push him towards the couch. But as soon as you try to back away, he grabs your head by your hair and thrusts right into your throat, your mouth reaching his base. You open up as much as you can, trying to fight the gag reflexes. His movements are hard but his grip on you is gentle, moving your head in time with his hips.

As his movements grow unsteady, he's ready to pull out and come on your face, but you have other thoughts. Before he pulls out completely, you cup his ass and push him into your mouth, cum flowing down your throat. His dick spasms as he trembles, a low groan coming out of him.

He opens his eyes and properly looks at you, your teary eyes, trembling as he slowly pulls out. He notices your other hand then, the one you had between your legs, fingers buried deep into your pussy as your thumb circles your clit.

Cum dripping down the side of your mouth, struggling for air, you see the shift in him.

You wanted him out of control, now he is.

[clouji]

No Note Today?

+ fluff, barista reader x hamzah, coffee shop, chase as bff

💟

He walked in as if he had been coming here for years, but the fact that you had never seen him before. Black hoodie, camo cap, messy soft curly hair, tired boba eyes, and a smile that increases your oxytocin levels. He got his favorite coffee and sat in his usual spot, in the corner by the window, laptop out, headphones in, and stayed there like a glue for hours.

Then he came back. The next day... And the next.... And next, you call it.

For whatever reason, he suddenly become your crush. Not a weird type. Just a happy little crush, the “I giggle when he says hi” or “Is he gonna be here today?” Type of crush.

“Y/N, you’re so obsessed,” your co-worker bestie Chase said randomly as you drew something on the side of his cup before calling out his name.

“I’m not!!,” you said, handing it to him with a practiced smile. “It’s just fun and gives me little motivation.”

He raises a brow. “You deadass wrote 'you're someones reason to smile.'”

You roll your eyes. “Come on! Just let me be happy, okay?.”

His name is Hamzah... You find it funny that he never mentioned the notes. So you weren't sure if he saw them. But you continued to do it. Every single day, there is a different stupid one, like:

“This is your 4th coffee this week. Blink twice if you’re okay.”

“Can I also scroll thru your ig reels. I'm bored :3.”

That one got a smirk. Your face turned red like crazy and had to go to the back and pretend to restock cups just to recover.

⏭️

Then one Thursday morning, it was a busy day with a lot of customers, and your manager called you to the back to help your new co-worker. You didn't realize you'd handed him his coffee without a note until he was standing near the pickup counter, staring at the plain and boring blank cup.

You were wiping your hands on your apron, grabbed a marker just to write a quick note-

But he raised the cup suddenly and gave you a look. “No note today?”

You just looked at him, not knowing what to say because you're already panicking inside your head, like that Sponge Bob brain office scene (ifykyk).

“Oh, shit. I mean—” you stuttered, rubbing the back of your head. “It was kinda busy and I had to… help my new coworker and fight a dragon and travel to-”

“I was starting to think you don't like me anymore,” he said frowning, casually leaning on the counter.

You gasped. “Wait.... You read them?”

He grinned. “Ofcourse I do. I even kept a few sticky notes.”

Your jaw dropped on the floor. “No freaking way.”

He grabbed inside his laptop bag and pulled out a crumpled piece of colored paper. You could recognize your own handwriting.

“Seriously? You even kept the one where I said 'your hoodie probably smells good'?” You questioned as your voice sounded quiet and awkward.

“It does smell good,” he said. “Wanna find out?”

You thinking... is this flirting? Were you both flirting? Was this real life or just a fever dream- I need Chase to slap me right now!

“I mean...If you don't mind.”

He took a sip from his cup. “But only if I get another note tomorrow.”

You giggle. “I gotchu.”

He turned to walk back to his usual spot, then paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Oh, and by the way—” he said, “you’re not the only one with a crush. Why do you think I come here every single day.?”

Chase saw you behind the counter ten minutes later, gripping a marker and spacing out like you just drank a gallon of coffee.

“Did he punch you or something, hello?” He asked, waving his hand infront of your face.

Now you suddenly grab a cookie chip from the counter and slap a sticky note on it, you wrote: “If I write my number on your cup tomorrow, will you actually text me?"

💟

[shuenkio]

⾕ Warming me love - 심재윤

Paring: Older!Jake X M!reader

Synopsis: He can't even forgive himself for not giving you a goodbye kiss in the morning, now he beg for your forgiveness by something else.

Genre: Smut. Cw: cock warming, dirty talk, smau, 18+, big dick Jàke ;)

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

It’s probably just you who thought getting an older boyfriend would fix every issue in your life. You’re not exactly the romantic type, easily overwhelmed by noise, moody like the eldest sibling of a big family, and prone to withdrawing when things feel too much. So you figured—why not find someone who could handle you at your most difficult?

And then, like something out of a cheesy miracle, you met Jake.

He was everything you were quietly searching for. Older, patient, grounded. He had the kind of life you never imagined being part of—cars, a house, money, fame, and a job that most would kill for. It was obvious from the start: this wasn’t a casual thing. This was ride or die. Date to marry.

But all of that—the polished image—was only for the outside world.

Behind closed doors, Jake was a different person. Someone who needed to be cared for. Someone who craved affection like air, needy in the way toddlers are—but worse. As soon as he stepped through the door, stress from work still clinging to him like a second skin, he would come find you. He needed cuddles to fall asleep, soft touches in his hair, someone to baby him through the exhaustion. Most of the time, it wasn’t even about the gestures. Your presence alone was everything to him. You were his calm. His home. The reason he remembered how to breathe.

Even if you didn’t speak, just holding him against your chest, letting his cheek rest against your skin, was enough to make him melt. To satisfy that part of him that no amount of success ever could.

That night, the sky was still cloudy from the day’s overcast, now turning into a quiet, rainy evening. You stayed home, waiting, kind of worried he’d be soaked by the time he got in.

Eventually, the front door clicked open.

And there he was—Jake.

As usual, you greeted him. Asked about his day. Whether he’d eaten. But he didn’t answer. Your brow furrowed immediately. Was something wrong at work? Did you say something? You tried again, but he just stared, silent.

You were about to ask one more time—until he cut you off.

“Do you know how insanely crazy I went today when I realized I forgot to give you a goodbye kiss this morning?”

“…I beg your pardon?” That… didn’t sound right.

“I’m sorry, my love. I wasn’t a good boy today. But can I still have your cuddle? Please? Pwes?”

And just like that, the illusion shattered. It wasn’t about age—it never was. It was about energy, mental space. You sighed in disbelief, eyeing your boyfriend with a flat look as he stood there looking like a guilty puppy.

“Please, baby? Tell me yes,” he whined softly, pulling you closer. “I’ll be a good boy for you. I’ll let you use my cock however you want—just let me touch you. Let me hear your voice.”

“But babe, you touch me every single day. Like… seven days a week, 24 hours a day. Aren’t you ever tired?” you asked, arms folded as you sat together on the couch-bed hybrid, unimpressed.

“Well, yes…” he mumbled. “But who can resist a boyfriend like you? If I could ruin you for anyone else—” He suddenly cut himself off, slapping a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. The shame hit him instantly. His lips had gotten ahead of his brain again.

You didn’t flinch. You just stared, unimpressed by his dramatics. Still, he pushed on.

“I swear, please, trust me—I'm gonna be a good boy this time. You want something back? My cock is yours. Toy with it, abuse it, play with it—I don’t care. Just let me touch you, pwease, M/N.”

And there he went again. Dramatic. Desperate. Fake tears and everything. He grabbed your hand and pressed it to his chest, then trailed it downward to where his cock strained under his sweats—rock hard and twitching with need. He kept shifting, unable to bear the pressure.

You sighed again, zoning out for a second, thinking if there was any compromise that didn’t involve you being dragged into his chaotic energy entirely.

That’s when Jake—impatient, fidgety, and horny—suddenly came up with an idea.

“How about this… love… just cockwarming?” he asked hopefully. “I know I don’t deserve to fuck you today, but cockwarming? Say yes, M/N. It’s the only thing I’ll ask for tonight.”

It was an unusual dynamic. The “top” begging the “bottom” for mercy. But here you were. Jake’s hands clapped together in prayer, face desperate, looking more golden retriever than grown man.

You considered for a moment, then sighed, nodding.

Jake didn’t waste a second. His lips crashed against yours, tender and grateful, while his hands roamed your body, peeling away layers with eager urgency. He stripped himself next, yanking off his pants and underwear in one swift move. His cock sprang out—thick, veiny, flushed pink and twitching. The musky scent filled the air, heavy with need, and you could tell how badly he wanted it just by the way it curved, desperate and leaking.

Nine solid inches, crying for you.

“That’s what you do to me, love,” he whispered, voice breathy. “My dick hurts so much… Can I do it?”

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. He pulled you closer again and lay down, the rain falling softly against the window outside. Jake held his cock in one hand, spreading your cheeks with the other before slowly pushing inside. Inch by inch, the warmth of your tightness swallowed him up. He let out a broken moan.

“God, this hole…” he choked, voice shaking. “I fucking love you, M/N. You don’t get it—”

Tears welled in his eyes—not real ones, probably, but the feeling was raw. His cock twitched, nestled deep inside, unmoving, just like you’d agreed. The heat, the pressure, the overwhelming feeling of being one—it made him delirious.

You stared out the window, biting down a quiet moan, the cozy light of the room wrapping around you like a blanket. A visible bulge marked where he sat inside you, unmoving but entirely present.

“I know I don’t say it enough,” Jake whispered, breath shaky, “but… I’m dying without you. I need to feel you. I need to hear your moans—fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Cockwarming… hmm,” you said thoughtfully. “Feels kinda nice. We should do this more.”

“Love, do you hear yourself? Fuck—stop, that’s my kink—please, I love you so much—”

“Oh, shut up. You’re being ridiculous,” you mumbled, cheeks hot. “I love you. And your… cock.”

“Yes. Yes. That’s all I ask. Love me. And love my cock.”

Jake chuckled against your ear, his lips grazing your skin. He nuzzled into your neck, planting a soft kiss on your cheek before wrapping his arms tighter around you. His cock nestled deeper, hitting a sweet curve inside you without thrusting, and he sighed like it was the first deep breath he’d had all day.

“All mine. My love. Mine.”

A/n: I just randomly added Jake was 9 inches— anyway happy 1 year anniversary to this Tumblr account, I didn't even know until Tumblr remind me just today (even tho I started to posted on 1st May 2024) and happy 837 followers to all m!reader enthusiastic y'all are my motivation 😝 shout out to my ride or die mutual, you're my everything A. and sorry for being busy these week🫠

[bi-bats]

for the prompt ask game— 41 for JayTim?

Oh gosh. A year and a half later 😂 hi Livvy!! Thank you for the ask 💚

I found a bunch of these drabble prompts when I was organizing my WIP folder and some of them were almost finished - since you write like your hand is on fire, I wanted to come back with your prompt first. You're an incredible writer and the way you just go for it is inspiring, so thank you for sharing your works. And in return, here's an answer to your prompt:

41 - "You did all this for me?"

You can read it here on Ao3 or below the cut here on tumblr. Thanks for waiting so patiently 💚

Tim’s bag drops to the floor with a thunk. If he could be, he would probably be worried about whether or not he just broke the screen of his laptop, but he doesn’t have it in him. He’s had a long fucking day.

His pile of shoes are lined up by the wall, neat and tidy, and it’s not a surprise. It’s a signature move of Jason’s. But the tornado that his living room had been — well, it looks like another tornado spun through in reverse and put everything back where it belongs. It smells incredible, too — sweet and salty and cheesy and oh — grilled cheese and tomato soup.

There are blankets and pillows piled high on the couch and the TV has his favorite episode of the Next Generation pulled up — the one where Q loses his powers and tries to join Starfleet — and the lights are dimmer than he remembers, some of the harsh white bulbs swapped out for warmer yellow ones. He’s surprised how much more comfortable it makes his space. 

All of this is surprising, actually. But the most surprising thing is that in front of a steaming pot on his stove and a plate with two grilled cheeses on it, Jason is standing there, looking like Alfred just caught him sneaking into the manor. 

“Shit,” Jason says, but it doesn’t seem like he quite meant to say it. 

Tim raises an eyebrow and Jason’s cheeks flush. That panicked look doesn’t go away.

“You’re home early,” Jason says, like that clears anything up.

Tim opens his mouth to answer, because his body seems to know he should do that. His brain hasn’t quite caught up, though, so he just sort of stands there with his mouth open while Jason’s blush spreads down his neck.

By the time he manages to get his brain to start working again, Jason has stopped blinking at him and started moving. The only reason he doesn’t make it out the door is because Tim grabs his arm when he tries to walk past him. 

“You… did all this for me?”

Jason’s eyes latch onto the door like maybe if he focuses hard enough, he’ll find himself on the other side of it. 

“It’s not a big deal,” Jason says, and it sounds like he’s been repeating that one to himself for a while.

“You swapped out my lightbulbs.” 

“They were white LED bulbs. It was oppressive.” 

“I know, I complained about it a few weeks ago.” 

A muscle in the side of Jason’s jaw pulses. He still won’t look at Tim. 

Shit. Shit. 

“We need to talk,” Tim declares, because he knows what happens after this if they don’t . 

Jason disappears for a little while, with a hastily written and thinly veiled excuse for pulling away. He answers Tim’s messages, but he can’t take calls, and then eventually Tim stops messaging, because he wants to give him space if he needs it. And then one day, Tim’s swinging over a street or sneaking through a building or catching his breath after a fight, and he spots a glint of red. And even though he knows he should know better, even though it isn’t the first or fifth or fifteenth time this has happened, even though his gut clenches with something angry — his heart beats a little faster in his chest. 

And a few days later, he inevitably flicks on the lights in his apartment and sees that his shoes are lined up by the wall. Or he pulls into one of his garages and finds Jason’s bike parked in his spot. Or he turns a corner and nearly slams into Jason’s chest, has to wrestle his anger with one fist and his excitement with the other, while Jason snickers and he tries to get his heart to stop pounding.

And then Jason makes it up to him. 

Then things are good for a while. Easy. Everything is backup in the field and tech projects — Jason’s always got something that could use a little work, something with low enough stakes that it doesn’t keep him awake but high enough importance that it isn’t a waste of time — and showering the grime off together and wringing an orgasm out of each other, and then eventually it’s waking up next to each other and home cooked meals and waiting to watch the new episode of whatever they’re watching and all the things that would make Jason run if Tim called it what it was: domestic. 

But he doesn’t have to call it that, because inevitably they run into something too domestic for Jason’s comfort anyways, and suddenly Tim’s throwing out spoiled vegetables and piling paperwork all over the counters and chucking his shoes into a pile at the door again.

And that’s what’s about to happen, unless Tim forces some words past the knot in his throat.

“We don’t need to talk,” Jason says.

“Can we?” 

“Why? There’s nothing to talk about. It’s not a big deal.”

“I’m not asking to talk because it’s a big deal, Jason.” 

“Then why do we need to talk?” 

Tim grits his teeth. He knows what Jason’s doing. Trying to wind him up, piss him off. Get him to snap at him so they can have a fight and call it, and then Tim won’t even try to get in touch with him while he fucks off to wherever he really goes when he’s decided he doesn’t want to play house anymore, and then he’ll come back in a few weeks, once there are lines for him to cross again. 

“Because we never talk about it. We never talk about anything!” 

“It’s—” 

Tim interrupts him, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you say it’s not a big deal one more time, I’m going to make it a big deal. So if you don’t want that, bite back your snarky asshole attitude for one goddamn second, please.” 

He hears a little frustrated-resigned huff and opens his eyes, looking around the apartment. This is… it’s a love letter, isn’t it? Jason is all acts of service, Tim knows that, and he doesn’t say anything because if Jason knew he’d noticed, he would have stopped. 

Tim’s eyes lock on the steam floating off the pot on the stove, and he makes himself say something he’s thought about saying a million times, but never really considered admitting. 

God, he hopes he’s right.

“I fucking hate it when you leave,” he mutters.

The muscles of Jason’s bicep tense under his fingers, and he sees Jason freeze from the corner of his eye. His heart starts pounding harder with every word tumbling out of his mouth. 

“I just… I like pissing you off with my inability to cook and I like getting annoyed when you flaunt your height over me and I really like fucking you, and I really, really like spending time with you.”

He spots Jason’s throat working from the corner of his eye, feels his own face heating up.

“It’s just frustrating! Because then you turn back up and we start fucking around again and it takes forever for things to go back to normal, and then they finally do for just long enough that I think maybe I don’t have to worry about you disappearing again, until one day you do something that gives you cold feet, and you run off again. And I just… I really don’t want that day to be today.”

Tim finally forces his eyes off the tomato soup and onto Jason’s, his gut clenching tight with uncertainty.

He was expecting to see panic, considering Jason’s been looking panicked since he walked in, but he wasn’t expecting to see fear, and shit, maybe he did miscalculate somewhere. 

“I’m just tired of you playing with my feelings,” he mumbles, already bracing himself to hear what he didn’t want to hear. His eyes skate back to the pot — at least he’ll have some solid comfort food for the night of wallowing he’s about to have.

“I—” Jason starts, his voice cracking on the word. He has to swallow before trying again. “I’m not playing with your feelings.” 

At the look on Tim’s face, Jason keeps talking. “Nonono, I didn’t mean — fuck. I’m listening. I just didn’t know you had feelings. Not like — not at all ! Just. You know. Like that. For — me?” he says like a question, his eyes seeking confirmation in Tim’s. 

Tim flushes.

“Look, if you want to do the fucking around thing and that’s it, then fine. We can do that. But if you’re going to do stuff like this, I can’t… I really need you to be clear with me about what you want. Please.” 

There are only so many seconds of silence he can bear staring at the pot of soup, so he lets his eyes skip back to Jason’s, finding them wide and scared and so goddamn green. His throat keeps working, like he’s trying to get some words out, and god, Tim was stupid for trying to get Jason to talk to him. If he’s ready to talk about something, he’s fine with communicating, but if you beat him to the punch? 

The pounding of his heart marks the passing time as they stare at each other, as the fear pools in Jason’s eyes, as the vice of his jaw clicks tighter shut, and finally, Tim can’t take it anymore. 

“Look, I’ll make this easy for you. Thank you for doing all this for me, it’s… it’s really kind. I’m going to pour myself some of that soup and turn on that episode of Star Trek, and if you want to join me, I would really like that, but I am going to read into it that this is not just fucking. And if you’re not comfortable with that, if you want to go, you can go ahead, and we can keep fucking around if you want, but stuff like this has to stop. We’re either fucking, or we’re more, and I can’t keep guessing. It’s not fair. So I’m going to let go of your arm, and you… do whatever you want,” Tim sighs, not quite sure that he managed not to sound bitter about the last few words. 

What’s the point of even saying them? Jason always does whatever he wants. 

Tim lets go of his arm, watches Jason’s pupils dilate as he feels the cool air against his fingers. Then he steps around him and pushes up his sleeves as he heads to the stove. 

A cacophony of thoughts whirs in his head too loud for him to pick any one of them out as he ladles his Campbell's into the bowl Jason pulled out. He can barely hear the sound of Jason’s tight, shallow breathing, and even though he hasn’t looked, he knows Jason hasn’t moved. 

Wait , he thinks as he picks up the plate and brings his food to the living room. Wait , he thinks as he kicks up his feet onto the coffee table and tracks down the remote. Wait and see , he thinks as he clicks play and picks up a grilled cheese. 

The sounds of the Enterprise filter in through the speakers, and Tim makes it a little quieter. He picks up his sandwich and is about to dip it into the soup when he hears it — the creak of the linoleum floor of his kitchen. 

His breath catches as he listens, hearing sharpening until as he waits to find out if he’s about to hear the front door or not. 

That’s not what he hears. What he hears is Jason’s footsteps getting closer, and the sound of his breathing, shallow and quick. He comes around the couch and hesitates, his gaze palpable on Tim. 

Tim keeps waiting, refusing to let himself react one way or the other. Jason could still turn around and leave, after all. So Tim holds the sandwich and stares at the screen and waits, and waits, and waits, until the show has made it to the goddamn intro and he can’t take it anymore. 

He drops the sandwich back on the plate and grabs the remote, pauses, and turns to Jason. 

“Look, I’m not asking for—” and then he stops, because the look on Jason’s face isn’t what he was expecting. He doesn’t look panicked anymore. He doesn’t look frightened, or awkward. 

No, the look on his face is a mixture of determination and longing and — there’s something else he can’t place.

“Tim,” Jason says, and his voice is thick and gruff and low, heavy with something that Tim’s never heard in it before.

“Yeah?” His collar is too tight and his feet are hot and he’s gripping the remote too tightly and Jason is staring at him, intensity rippling out of his gaze.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Tim’s gut seizes, all the nerves he’s been trying to ignore suddenly reaching up and grasping tight around his stomach. Of course, he thinks. Of course, of course, of course, you absolute moron. Who wouldn’t?

His mouth opens to say yes, and it snares on something in his throat. It’s funny, how even though he just demanded the same thing of Jason, even though he can see how much Jason cares for him in all the things he does, he can’t get the words out.

The last thing in Jason’s expression falls into place; it’s suspicion. And suddenly it clicks — Jason’s been putting love in everything he does. It’s in the shoes and it’s in the sandwich and it’s in the fucking sheets. 

And Tim doesn’t know how to do that. He doesn’t know how to write his feelings into the moments of a day. He doesn’t know how to scatter the evidence, the proof, for Jason to find. He doesn’t know how to cook it into a sandwich, how to wipe the counters with it, how to make the bed with it. 

He swallows and holds Jason’s gaze. 

“Yes. I want you to stay.”

There’s a brief moment where even though Tim knows he’s right to admit it — he couldn’t give you an exact calculation but he knows he wouldn’t take the risk if it wasn’t well over 90% in his favor — his gut still clenches again, his brain screaming that he fucked up and Jason’s going to leave after all and it’ll be all his fault that he lost the one thing in his life that made things easier — 

And then Jason’s stepping forward. He drops down onto the couch, right next to Tim, gravity displacing the cushion and making him bounce slightly. Jason reaches to pluck the remote from his hands, but he grimaces once he’s holding it. 

“Ugh, you got it all greasy.” He stands again, reaches across the table for a paper towel, and wipes it off. Then he presses play and drops it back on the couch next to him as Picard’s speech floats between them. His arm falls behind Tim’s shoulders and he stares at the screen, watching the intro scene that they’ve seen over a hundred times like it’s brand new. 

“Stop staring at me,” Jason says without looking away from the screen. 

“Sorry,” Tim says, his eyes shifting to the screen. “Are you… staying?” 

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Jason asks, lifting his hand up in a little ‘see?’ gesture, before he drops it back on Tim’s shoulder. 

Relief floods through him, the tension in his muscles relaxing as he melts into the couch, into Jason’s hold.

“It’s not a big deal,” Jason says, and Tim knows that out of the two of them, he isn’t the one that Jason’s trying to convince.

“Okay,” Tim agrees, forcing himself not to grin like an idiot. But he feels pleased, content, relaxed in a way he hasn’t in months, since before the first time Jason left. 

He leans into Jason’s shoulder and tucks himself into the space there, letting Jason wrap around him. 

“Did you buy wonder bread for this?” Tim asks, right before he picks up a sandwich half and swipes it through the soup, takes a bite. It’s crispy and buttery and warm and it tastes like comfort. His eyes water, and he tells himself nostalgia has nothing to do with it. The food’s just hot.

“And Kraft slices.”

A short, sharp laugh squeezes past the lump in Tim’s throat, easing it a little. “Wow, you do like me.” 

“Shut up,” Jason says, blush creeping down his neck, and now Tim can’t help grinning like an idiot. “ You like me .”

“Of course I do. Look at all this,” Tim says, waving around the apartment at all the things Jason did. “You swapped out my lightbulbs. You bought me that cheese you hate because you know I like it. You do that thing with your tongue. You’re boyfriend material.” 

Now Jason’s blushing all the way up to his ears, and Tim grins wide.

“It’s not cheese, it’s cheese product , ” Jason says, and Tim lets it go. They can worry about the labels another night. Jason probably still needs some time to think before he’s ready to talk about it, and that’s fine — Tim will wait.

“You’re not even a little curious about the tongue thing that I’m referring to?” 

“No. Maybe. No, we’re still on the cheese product,” Jason says, but he’s smirking, because he does, in fact, know exactly what thing Tim’s referring to. 

“It’s delicious.”

“It’s nostalgic. There’s a difference,” Jason argues, rekindling their argument from last week. He grins, his gaze going soft when Tim lets out an exasperated sigh and launches into the same speech as he did last time, and yeah, as long as Jason keeps looking at him like that, Tim’s happy to wait.

[angeliteeyes]

More more with the Herta puppets. So I'm not sure I'd you know, but the trailblazer has actually, for some reason, picked up a Herta doll and tried to run away with it. And Madam herta was st first indignant about it but relented outta curiosity 10% and cause of the help with the simulated universe( if you haven't seen it, you can find it on hoyolab ir reddit). The thing is, Oni S/O is 100%, NOT cool with it. The herta puppets may find them annoying, sure, and its not even sure why, but it also sent a distress signal to them. So Oni S/O went Papa Wolf/Mama bear/Protective sibling, and the Trailblazer may now treat Sparkle with far more caution if her illusions can also do the same messed type of stuff Oni S/O's can. On another note, the Herta puppets are now tsundere like towards the Oni S/O, and you may or may not always see at least one puppet walking alongside them

Hehehe... I'm back on the Herta train y'all

(¬ ͜ ͡¬) feels good to come back to this series. Expect a lot of overdramatic jellyfish Herta, along with perhaps the most adorable puppet of all... popipo...

The Herta x Oni Reader - Puppet Rescue!!!

-> Masterlist with all Herta x Oni works

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Ah, home sweet home. Admittedly, it kind of hurt your pride that Mei forced you to leave her behind in Penacony... but no worries! As long as you have your precious puppets to mess around with, you can wait. Especially now that you're heading over to see your favorite of them all (don't tell the others that, though).

Puppet #39. Despite how many people think of the several, similarly designed puppets as carbon copies, you've found that they're actually quite unique from one another. This one, for example, has a strange fascination with some digital idol she'd somehow managed to discover—what was their name again... Natsume Miki? No, last time you said that, 39 got really mad at you and stormed off, so probably not it. Well, whatever. You'll just ask them again once you find them.

So... where in the station did they head off to? You run around and around, calling out their name, yet to no avail. Strange, since you've always known them to remain in one room every single day, likely since it's the only one with a music player. Confused, you head over to your and Herta's—the real one's—room.

"Hertaaaaa, I'm home! Ya miss me?" You burst into the room, nearly stumbling to the ground from your speed and joy at the sight of your lover. She looks up at you, sprawled upside down from the side of your bed. For some reason, her face is fixed into a frown, or maybe more of a pout, as she begins to speak.

"Oh, so you finally remember your beloved life partner now that you've wasted twenty minutes running around like a stray dog? I offer you the chance of a lifetime to reunite with your long-lost sibling, and this is how you repay me? Hmph. Honestly, I should sign you up for some lessons in manners." Herta crosses her arms over her chest and turns away indignantly.

"Heh, sorry... I meant to come back sooner, it's just that I couldn't find 39 anywhere. Is she under maintenance or something?"

For a few seconds, she doesn't even speak. Not with her lips, at least; instead, her face does all the work as she turns back toward you with an agape mouth and stunned eyes.

"You can't be serious. You return to my space station—my space station—and you don't even come to see me first? Unbelievable! You're so... ugh, whatever. 39's not here, sorry to disappoint you."

You tilt your head to the side. "Not here?"

"The trailblazer seems to have taken a liking to them as well. They've been rather helpful, so I acquiesced and let them take her back aboard." She stares straight at you with an accusatory glare. "What, are you going to run off again? Don't expect me to let you back in if you do."

Jeez, you knew she had a jealous streak in her, but to this degree? If you go out and get 39 back, she might just actually kick you out for a while. Still... you close your eyes for a moment to ponder. Does she even want to come back in the first place? What if she's happier there, cruising across the vast landscapes of the universe? You pause to give your intuition its chance to weigh in. Right now, they're probably thinking...

[Help me.]

A voice rings through your head, and not your own. With a rush, you realize exactly who it belongs to: 39 herself. Huh, guess that answers your questions. With determination, you open your eyes and meet Herta's.

"I have to save her."

"Wha—Hey!" Before Herta can finish her angry shouting, you burst into a sprint towards the space station's exit. C'mon, you can't just let the poor puppet suffer. What kind of oni would you be if you didn't use your powers for the sake of protecting those you love? Speaking of powers...

You pull out your phone.

"Sparkle, you busy?"

If you had to pick the greatest perk of being a Masked Fool, having such a mischievous friend as Sparkle would easily be your answer. Not only do you get an awful lot of laughs, but she's also surprisingly dependable; that is, she's always willing to lend you a hand whenever you describe a task using words such as "fun" or "interesting". Today is no exception. As you go into details about your plan to steal 39 back, a hearty laughter rings out from your device.

"An opportunity to mess with the Nameless, huh? Oh, I can already imagine their shocked faces when they find out... hehe. Count me in."

-

The Astral Express is known to be welcome to just about any and all visitors. Whether it's for short trips or those who wish to stay for the long haul, the train is so much more than just a machine; it's a home to countless of travelers. Puppet #39, though, doesn't quite see it this same way.

"This place sucks. I want to go back home." She glares up at the Trailblazer, who she now sees as her arch nemesis for taking her away from her precious music player. Said nemesis awkwardly places their hand on the back of their head.

"C'mon, it's not that bad here, is it?"

"It is. And you're weird. Bring me back to the station now."

It took everything in your power not to burst out into tearful laughter at the glorious scene your ears are bearing witness to. It's nice to know that 39's blunt word choices weren't just limited to you, at least. Unfortunately, though, making that much noise would definitely blow your cover. As you wait for the right moment to strike, their one-sided bickering session continues on. For what seems like ages, 39 drones on with complaints with her signature monotone voicebox while the other struggles to appease her. Seriously, what's taking her so long to—

"Heyyyyy! Open up already, I have something to show you!" A certain loud-mouthed girl begins to bang on their door, putting an end to their little spat. You hold your breath and curl tighter into your hiding spot. Meanwhile, the Trailblazer peeks out of their door. A confused expression marks their face.

"March? What's going on?" Instead of responding with words, she instead opts to tug at their raised hand, a motion that pulls their whole body out into the open. The lady smirks down at them as they rapidly try to regain their balance before continuing to drag them along like a poor ragdoll. Well, calling them "poor" is a bit generous, seeing how they stole your precious companion... Still, you watch intently as the two scurry off into the opposite direction. You pay even more attention to the girl's grinning mouth.

"Your turn."

Perfect. Looks like the first half of your plan worked out, now just the hard part: actually getting 39 to leave with you. Who knows how much trouble that little runt's going to cause, though. Seriously... if they weren't so entertaining, you'd probably still be at the station. You sigh. It's hard work being such a kind, considerate person. But of course, since you're the greatest oni anyway, this is a piece of cake.

Step. Step. Step. Slowly but surely, you make your way over to the ajar bedroom door and creak it open. In front of you remains the still extremely bitter (but adorable) 39, facing away from you. You hear her huff.

"I refuse to stay here."

"Then come with me, silly."

It takes a little while for your words to process in her cute puppet head, but when they do, she practically jumps out of her metal skin. She turns to face you with an unreadable expression. You start to shift your legs back and forth under her gaze. Maybe you were right earlier to think that she wouldn't come with you. Sure, she's been whining at them nonstop, but it's not like she didn't do the same exact thing with you back home. Maybe—

A sudden clash startles you out of your thoughts. Clutching onto you tightly, you realize, is none other than the very puppet that always claims to despise you. Yet here she is, burying herself into you quietly. Seriously, what a cutie pie. No wonder she was your favorite.

"...You're better than that weirdo, I guess. Let's go."

-

Surprisingly, Herta didn't seem to make good on their prior threat. Y'know, the one to lock you out and all. Still, as you walk in hand in hand with 39, you catch the way she glares at your intertwined fingers, and a chill runs down your spine. There's no way she's not giving you crap for this later, probably for the rest of your life.

And now she's walking away without a word towards your shared room. You apologize to 39 before hurrying to catch up with Herta's quick strides. You can already feel the anger seeping out of her (as well as hear it with how loudly she's stomping) but push on anyway. She silently makes her way into said room and you, despite the tension, trail in from behind.

"Hey, Herta... you still mad at me?" You try to break the tension with a lighter tone, yet regret it once she gifts you a scornful scowl.

"Wrong. Try again."

You think. "Um... I'm sorry?" Her expression grows even more disdainful and frustrated.

"Closer, but that's not what I'm looking for."

As you examine her more extensively, you notice a deeper emotion beyond just petty anger. It's hidden pretty well, yet the sweat droplet rolling down her skin plus her eyes darting from side to side tell you the truth about what she's feeling. With an exhale, you finally find the right words to soothe her worries.

"I missed you, Herta."

She doesn't express it verbally, but a weight visibly lifts off her body once you utter those words. You smile. For someone so renowned for her intelligence, she sure can be childish sometimes. But that's not an issue; after all, you're hardly any better.

"Well obviously you would miss me! Anyone whose eyes have been blessed with my beauty would feel the same way. It's only natural." Her signature grandiose tone kicks back into gear, much to your delight. She's a lot cuter this way.

"Right, right. Can we go to bed now? I'm sleepy." With a bright grin, she agrees and you two make yourselves comfy within the pink sheets of your bed. You decide that you won't tease her about her extra-tight grip on your form... at least, not until tomorrow morning.

-

A knocking sound at your bedroom door reverberates and stirs you out of your sleep. Curious and confused, you make your way over to the door, opening it to find...

"39?" You stare at her, perplexed. What could she possibly want this early in the morning? From the uncharacteristic twiddling of her fingers, she seems to be having trouble communicating her thoughts. Funny, considering how she normally treats you.

"You. Come with me." Refusing to elaborate, she drags you across the station's halls into her favorite room. Placed within it are her music player, a chair, and a new, full-length mirror. It's only when you two reach her seat that she lets go of your wrist and plops herself down. Then, she points to a set of colorful hair ties.

"Make me have pigtails." Despite her demanding words, her robotic cheeks flush with a color you didn't know they were capable of being. Vaguely, you start to recall her beloved idol and her hairstyle. With a gasp, you raise your voice.

"Don't tell me, are you trying to have the same hairstyle as that Natsume Miki girl?!"

"That's not her name!"

Unbeknownst to you, a collection of other puppets linger at the door. They totally aren't listening in on you or anything! They're just... curious, that's all. Yeah. Who would be jealous of 39 for getting to have you play with their hair? Certainly not them! That's what they'll say to themselves and anyone who asks, at least, as they stick to your side like glue the following day.

You try not to act too smug the first time one of them not-so-subtly complains about a nonexistent tangle. Who says you can't have more than one favorite?

[apomaro-mellow]

it may be unpopular to say but if i get 3 messages in a row for my inbox im gonna go out on a limb and say there's something fishy afoot here

[puppppppppy]

for like 3 weeks i was wondering why i was sleeping so much and felt listless. and just now I managed to email 3 people and responded to a month old message in the span of an hour because I got back to TAKING MY FUCKIN MEDS..........

[rosicheeks]

I hope your days aren't as heavy and dark, I am sending all the positive thoughts your way. You deserve the best, fairy princess. <3

😭

[weaselle]

there are two kinds of cat dislike. The first is by people who don't understand consent and don't understand personal space and don't like having to change their own behavior even a little bit to make anyone else more comfortable, and honestly huge red flag there's nothing you can really do for those people except don't date them and probably don't be friends with them either.

BUT

the other kind of cat dislike is the "my dad hated cats until i got him a kitten" kind of cat dislike, and the funniest thing about this kind of person is that cats actually get along really well with them... because that kind of person usually acts like a cat.

and that's what usually wins the person over too. Because that person can be like "hey fine we can snuggle or whatever, okay this is actually kind of nice, OW FUCK YOU THEN GET OFF ME I HATE YOU" and to the cat this is a perfectly natural feline interaction.

a dog will usually be like "oh no, figuring out what has gone wrong or continuing this argument is now the most important thing in my day" You ever try to get a dog to leave you alone after they've done something like accidentally kick you in the face, or on purpose punch you in the stomach with both front legs? They turn in to one of those people who you ask to give you some alone time and they spend the next hour on the "are you mad at me" treadmill. Unless it's a husky or something, and then they're more like "ha ha, i'm not touching you i'm not touching you" about it.

Either way "get off me and leave me alone" is all about them.

But a cat? You're suddenly over cuddle time and need to be alone? you seem upset for no reason? normal shit, i'll check back later.

With a cat you can be snuggling and then jump up irritably and walk away and the cat will be like "hey! whatever. I'm gonna go do my own thing then". Try that with a dog? lol no. They need to know what's bothering you now, it is more important than ever that they be in your face

of course these are generalizations and there will be cats and dogs who react somewhere on the range of different to opposite to this, but. I've seen a few people who "don't like cats" wind up with a cat in their home, and it's hilarious how their similarities are what wins them over.

Because, like, you know who else doesn't like you at first and takes a long time to work out a personal relationship before being willing to be friends? you know who else is often totally over dealing with cat bullshit? cats.

So they just take it in stride, and in fact often wind up better friends with "i don't like cats" people than they do with people who want to be friends with them right away. And the person often winds up appreciating the cats willingness to understand "i don't like you right now, check back later"... with the end result being: besties for life

[eowynstwin]

Price x Reader. Age gap. Divorced Price. Older BF Price. Vaguely smutty. Follow-up to this.

Price realizes you’ve never had a reliable man in your life exactly the second time he discovers you looking up DIY home maintenance for very simple projects.

It missed him the first time because he was deployed. You’d mentioned offhand how you were figuring out how to rebalance a ceiling fan, and he’d just automatically assumed that you were doing it yourself because he wasn’t there, so he simply praised you for your resourcefulness and lived for the next three weeks off of the way you’d absolutely glowed at his words.

But then he gets home, and one evening on the couch he catches you googling “how to fix a leaky sink.”

“What’s that?” he asks you, tamping down on the sudden feeling of masculine inadequacy that reared up almost immediately at the discovery.

“Faucet handle’s leaking all over my counter when I turn it on,” you say, not looking up from your phone. “Landlord’s out of town and can’t fix it.”

“I’m in town, ain’t I?”

You look up at him then, brows raised. You hadn’t even considered asking him, then.

“Oh—I didn’t want to bother you, John, you only just got back, and you’re tired…”

You trail off at the droll expression on his face.

Price has learned a lot of lessons from his previous marriage. The foundational one: just because he hasn’t been asked to help doesn’t mean he is believed to be unreliable. Adding that lesson to his knowledge base about you—young, modern, independent—calculates out an obvious answer that curtails any sour mood that might have sprouted up over the issue.

He puts his hand over your phone screen and lowers it down to your lap. “I’m fixin’ the sink,” he says simply.

He enjoys the way your eyes dilate at the assertion.

The next day, he shows up at your flat wearing old work clothes and carrying his heavy toolbox in his hand.

(You don’t live together yet—something he’s keen to rectify—but he has a toothbrush in your bathroom and permanent space in your bedroom drawers. He can be content for now.)

And you—you answer the door in the filmiest of sundresses, the ribbon tie on one shoulder hanging at a loose angle.

“Heard you need some plumbing done,” he says in the gruffest of voices, already understanding the game.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” you say, barely able to hide your giggle, “I’ve been so worried.”

He steps in close to you, close enough to feel the heat of your body radiating off of your bare skin. He has half a mind to put the charade aside and lift your skirt here and now, but another lesson helpfully springs to mind: anticipation of the act makes the finale all the sweeter.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen,” you murmur, looking up at him with warm, dreamy eyes.

When he gets under the sink, he finds the problem easy enough to fix—the cold water supply line simple isn’t screwed in tight enough, and when he wiggles the whole contraption by the valves he finds that nothing has been tightened up to standard. A couple of years knocking the thing around had probably loosened up the locknut.

He elects to fix the whole problem in one go, while in the meantime you stand off to the side, watching him. He feels your eyes on his legs, trailing up to the hair on his belly exposed by his shirt riding up.

“Sir, I’m sorry, I should’ve said before,” you simper, “but I’m not really sure how I’m gonna pay for this.”

His cock jumps in his jeans, and he feels your gaze move to it as if it’s a physical touch.

He levers himself out a little and meets your eyes, keeping a stern expression on his face.

“I’m sure you’re gonna figure it out,” he says. Looking down at his groin and then back up at your face might be a touch unsubtle, but clear communication had been the most important lesson of all.

He slides himself back under, and pretends he doesn’t feel you approach, or lower to your knees between his spread legs. He ignores your gentle hands falling on the closure of his jeans, the pop of the button coming undone, the parting of the zipper as you pull it down.

“Of course, sir,” you say, “I’m sure I will.”

The softness of your hand meets his growing erection, caressing the head of his cock with your thumb—followed very close behind by the wet, liquid heat of your mouth.

next

[helaintoloki]

Can you write a fic between Bucky and an avenger reader (maybe she’s just a little older than Peter (like she’s in her mid 20s)and she always had a crush on Bucky)

notes: thank you for sending this in ! i hope you enjoy

warnings: fluff, mentions of night terrors

summary: you think you’re too young for Bucky to be interested in you. ironically, Bucky thinks he’s too old for you to be interested in him

“So how did that date go?” Wanda asks while watching you mindlessly scroll through the selection of movies Tony has on the entertainment room TV.

“I bailed,” Natasha admits shamelessly with an innocent shrug, prompting both Wanda and yourself to turn to her in shock. “I’m not really interested in giving up my personal time for something as trivial as a blind date.”

You hum thoughtfully at her response, only half listening as Wanda begins to pester her for more details about the man she had stood up. The three of you are enjoying a rare night of peace in the tower after forcing the men to vacate the premises and allow you to have the space to yourselves. The three of you are outnumbered on the team, so sometimes a break from the intense amounts of testosterone are needed for you all to decompress. Girl’s night is a simple tradition, but you all enjoy each other’s company more than anything.

“What about you, y/n?” Natasha prompts while gently nudging your side and breaking you from your daze. “Any guys out there you think are first date material?”

You shift uncomfortably now that the spotlight is on you and try to mask the embarrassment that washes over you in response to the question. You know your answer, but you think you’d rather die than admit the truth. You try to remain as nonchalant as possible by offering a seemingly uninterested shrug and answering with a quiet ‘No,’ but you unfortunately can’t hide the truth from a mind reader.

“She has a crush on Barnes,” Wanda blurts out before she can stop herself, causing your eyes to widen in horror at being exposed. Natasha lets out an amused huff while her counterpart quickly utters out apologies. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to say it. It’s just your thoughts get so loud when you think about him.”

“You don’t need to be a mind reader to know that,” Natasha jokes much to your dismay.

“Is it really that obvious?” You groan before allowing your head to fall back against the couch in defeat. Wanda pats your arm sympathetically, obviously still guilty about her slip up. You’re just thankful no one else is in the tower other than the three of you.

“Not to him,” the Widow consoles with a faint smile, “the man isn’t exactly the greatest at navigating social interactions. But I’ve seen the way you look at him from across the room and how your eyes light up when Steve puts you together on missions. You like him.”

“It’s pathetic, I know,” you admit with a defeated sigh, looking between the two in despair. “I don’t even know how it happened! One day we’re just teammates and the next I’m suddenly realizing just how blue his eyes are instead of paying attention to a debrief.”

“There’s nothing pathetic about your feelings,” Wanda says with a comforting smile, “it’s only natural. Maybe you should try talking to him about it.”

You look at her as if she’s grown a second head before scoffing at her suggestion. “You’re kidding, right? There’s no way I’d ever be his type. Besides, he probably sees me as some kid considering I’m only twenty-six and he’s basically a hundred years old.”

Natasha can’t help but to let out a small chuckle at your predicament before taking the remote from your fidgety hands. You don’t exactly appreciate her amusement towards your self-depreciating rant, but you know she means well, and you also know you have a tendency to be a bit dramatic.

“Don’t sell yourself short, y/n/n,” she advises before finally deciding to hit play on a random comedy movie. “Remember that you’re the prize, and any guy or girl would be lucky to have you. Besides, you’ll never know what could happen if you don’t give it a shot.”

The conversation ends there as your trio becomes engrossed with the movie, but her words linger on your mind for the rest of the night. You really doubt Bucky could have anything but platonic feelings for you, and it would be embarrassing to confess your feelings only to have him shoot you down. You don’t think you could show your face around the tower again if that were to happen, but you also know that you would give anything to win the super soldier’s heart.

Your inner turmoil persists, and you go to bed that night unsure of how to move forward.

~~~

“Barnes, y/l/n, how are you holding up?”

“We’re pretty much fucked, Cap,” you grunt into your earpiece after being slammed against a wall. You thought the room had been cleared, but you were soon proven wrong by the assailants who had been hiding in the shadows waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Bucky was currently taking on three on his own while you tried to fight off the woman who seemed hell bent on killing you. “If I survive this will I still be written up for swearing?”

“Focus, y/n,” Natasha’s voice chimes in. “Do you guys need backup?”

You manage to chance a glance over at Bucky and see that he’s fairing rather well on his own, and after returning your attention back to your own attacker, you swiftly lift your knee so that it slams into her gut and forces her to stumble back. It doesn’t take you long to disarm her and render her unconscious so that she no longer proves to be a threat, and you’re finally able to return to your own task.

“No, we’re good. Bucky should be able to hold them off while I plant the chip into the computer system,” you finally reply before setting to work. “It shouldn’t take long.”

“I hope so because they’ve got reinforcements already on the way,” Tony alerts over the earpiece. “You need to be out of there within the next five minutes.”

“Yep, you got it,” you affirm before looking over your shoulder to see Bucky finishing off the last of your attackers. His broad shoulders rise and fall with his labored breaths, hair falling perfectly into place and blue eyes looking up to meet your gaze. You swallow nervously and return your attention to the computer in an attempt to act inconspicuous. Luckily for you, the files you came for have been uploaded. “Alright, let’s get out of here before someone slams me up against another wall.”

“What?” Bucky retorts, eyebrows scrunched in confusion and cheeks slowly turning red at your poor choice of words. You pay him no mind and begin your trek towards the exit, though your stomach flips at the mere thought of having him cage you in against a wall and having you at his complete mercy. You shudder and try to shake the thoughts away, but it’s hard to do so when the man in question is right beside you matching your brisk pace.

“You okay?” He asks, eyes scanning your figure for any sign of injuries.

“Definitely going to have a bruise in the morning, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” you note with an easygoing smile.

“I’m on dinner duty tonight,” Bucky notes thoughtfully before kicking down the doors and clearing your path to the outside. “You interested in lending a hand?”

“Oh, definitely. You and Steve can’t be trusted with dinner anymore after the last time.”

“I’ll have you know tuna casserole was a popular dish back in my day,” he retorts defensively only to make you laugh instead.

“Okay, grandpa, whatever you say,” you giggle much to his annoyance. He retaliates by playfully nudging your side with his elbow so that you stumble away, but he can’t hide the amused smile on his face at your antics.

“It’s about time,” Tony retorts impatiently after you two finally make it to the Quinjet. “I’d appreciate some sense of urgency, you know.”

“You said be back in five minutes, it’s only been three,” you reply defensively only to earn an eye roll from the man.

“You and Barnes can flirt with each other on your own time,” he quips to your dismay. You immediately feel yourself heat with embarrassment and do everything your power to avoid looking at Bucky who shifts uncomfortably beside you.

“We weren’t-“ Bucky starts to say only for Tony to interrupt.

“I don’t need the details, I just need both of your butts on the quinjet now.”

You’re mortified as you step foot inside where the rest of the team sits waiting. All eyes land on you and Bucky, and you try to ignore their gazes as you take your seat beside Wanda.

“If it makes you feel any better,” she whispers after leaning in closer to you, “his thoughts about you are loud, too.”

You swallow nervously and chance at a peek at the super soldier only to find he’s already looking right at you. You immediately turn your gaze towards the floor before sinking down sullenly into your seat.

It’s going to be a long flight home.

~~~

The tower is silent when you make your way to the living room in search of a distraction from the terrible nightmare you’d just endured. Your body still trembles with unease despite the blanket you have wrapped tightly around your figure, and it was times like these where you heavily contemplated begging Wanda to use her powers on you despite her reluctance to manipulate your mind.

There isn’t anything good playing this late on TV, but you don’t mind watching reruns of old sitcoms if it means you don’t have to sit in silence. You fixate your gaze on the screen, but you’re hardly paying any mind to your surroundings as you simply begin to dissociate. No one knows about the night terrors or the bad dreams that plague you after missions; you fear coming off as weak or unprepared for the life of an Avenger by telling any of your teammates about your dilemma, so you’ve learned to deal with it on your own by escaping through trivial distractions.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t detect the presence of someone else in the room until a hand rests on your bare shoulder. You jump, obviously startled as your wide eyes look to the perpetrator sitting beside you. Bucky immediately yanks his hand back and raises his hands in surrender, his features apologetic at having startled you.

“Sorry, sorry,” he immediately says. “I tried calling your name first but you weren’t exactly responding. You okay?”

“Yeah, I um- sorry,” you utter with a soft shake of your head before swallowing, “I just got lost in thought I guess.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

You normally would have insisted you were fine and tried to change the topic, but there was something about the gentleness in his eyes and the comfort his presence brought you that made it easier for you to open yourself up. You sigh, shifting in place so that you’re facing him now. He offers you a an encouraging smile and already you can feel yourself melting.

“Sometimes I have night terrors,” you confess quietly, almost embarrassed to admit it out loud. “They usually tend show up after a mission or an intense fight. When they happen I just come out here and watch some TV until my brain shuts up enough for me to get some sleep. Pathetic, huh?”

Despite the humorless laugh you let out, Bucky frowns before uttering, “I don’t think that’s pathetic at all. I get it. This job is tough, and sometimes you see things you can’t unsee no matter how hard you try. Don’t beat yourself up for having a normal human reaction to trauma.”

“You sound just like a therapist,” you tease, prompting him to let out a sheepish laugh in return.

“I may have picked up a thing or two in therapy myself,” he admits. A beat passes before he takes your hand in his own and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Just know that if you ever need help chasing the nightmares away, I’m right here.”

Your heart pounds in your chest while the warmth of his hold encompasses your hand and spreads throughout your entire body. His eyes are full of sincerity, but you also detect something that you’ve never seen from him before. This look is different than the ones he normally gives you, more intimate, and you find yourself nervously biting the inside of your cheek while trying to decipher what it could be.

“Thank you,” you finally voice with a tired smile. Wanting to lighten the mood, you ask, “How come you’re up this late, anyway?”

“Made the mistake of having a cup of coffee after dinner,” he confesses with an embarrassed chuckle. “You mind if I keep you company?”

“Of course not, silly,” you retort as if it’s the most absurd question you’ve ever heard.

You and Bucky settle into a comfortable silence as you tune in to the sitcom playing on the TV screen. A sense of calm has washed over your body now that you’re no longer being tormented by the remnants of your nightmare, but there’s still a part of you that remains nervous around the man you secretly harbor feelings for. You find your mind drifting back to what Wanda had said you earlier and wonder if there was any truth to her words. What did she mean by it?

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky prompts after the episode ends.

“Anything,” you reassure him, grabbing the remote to lower the television’s volume so that he can have your undivided attention.

“I know it’s just your way of poking fun at me, but when you call me ‘grandpa’ or ‘old man,’ is that… that’s not how you see me, is it? Old?”

You’re honestly taken back by his comment, not expecting him to have thought this heavily into the subject. Of course you knew the man was out of his time, and if he had been given the chance to age naturally you most likely would not be sitting here on this couch with him, but you had never thought less of him because of the fact.

“No, of course not! Honestly sometimes I forget you’re technically 106.”

Bucky lets out a chuckle at that, but there’s still doubt lingering on his features as he self-consciously looks down at his hands in his lap. “I just see you with Peter and Wanda sometimes and wonder if I’m too old for you to be hanging around with.”

You shift closer to Bucky so that you can rest a comforting hand on his bicep, prompting him to lift his head and meet your softhearted gaze. Your entire being emanates warmth and tenderness, and it draws the soldier right in to you. You have no idea the effect you have on him or the way a single brush of your fingertips against his skin can satiate the yearning he feels every time he looks at you. Wanda had been telling you the truth; his thoughts are always loud when you’re around him.

“I guess sometimes it’s easier to connect with them considering we’re closer in age, but I like that you and I are so different because of it. I think there’s more to learn with you and more to appreciate. I genuinely enjoy any minute that’s spent with you,” you confess adamantly, prompting the corner of his lips to quirk up. “Besides, it’s going to take a lot more than a number to scare me away from you.”

Bucky only responds by wrapping his arms around your frame and pulling you into a long awaited hug. You try to stifle your gasp of surprise at suddenly being so close to him, and you hope he doesn’t pick up on the fact that your heart is nearly beating out of your ribcage. You feel his lips press to the top of your head and swear you must be dreaming this because there’s no way the Avenger you’ve pining after for months is now so boldly giving you his affection.

“How about we go away for a weekend?” He finally says after holding you in silence for some time.

“Go away?” You repeat, curiously peeking up at him.

“Leave New York, explore somewhere new,” Bucky reiterates, his features relaxed as he looks down upon you with an adoring gaze. “Be regular people for a few days.”

“I’d like that,” you profess quietly, sighing in contentment when the man pulls you against his chest once more before settling back against the couch. You can feel your eyelids already starting to become heavy, and the soothing circles he rubs into your back doesn’t help. You don’t want this moment with Bucky to end, but you also know that there’s so much to look forward to.

“Bucky?” You hum quietly after allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

“Yes, doll?”

“When we go away for the weekend, can we be regular people in a relationship?”

You feel his body gently shake from the quiet laugh he lets out at your response. You feel his lips press to your forehead as you drift to sleep, missing his answer when he replies, “I’d want nothing more.”

~~~

You slept through the rest of the night without issue; Bucky’s comforting presence was enough to lull you into a peaceful rest, and you entrusted him to chase away the nightmares for you. The two of you remained entangled together on the couch all the way until sunrise, and neither of you had bothered to consider the repercussions of your actions in the morning.

“I feel bad waking them,” Steve sighs, arms crossed over his chest as he and Natasha look down on your sleeping forms. There’s an almost proud smile on his face as he takes in the sight of his best friend holding the woman of his dreams in his arms.

“Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let them sleep a little longer,” Natasha notes with a knowing smile before promptly ushering the blond out of the entertainment room. Unbeknownst to either of you, by the time you wake up you’ll be the talk of the tower.

“So how much do you owe Wanda?” Steve asks after quietly shutting the door behind him. Natasha lets out a disappointed sigh.

“I’m out twenty bucks. I bet it would take at least another week before they finally got their heads out of their asses and confessed. But I guess as long as they’re happy…”

“That’s all that matters,” Steve finishes for her with a nod.

The team is happy they’ll no longer have to endure your obvious pining over each other, and they make sure to tell you so when you finally wake up.

It’s an eventful morning to say the least.