#i need this week to be over so i can go back to having a minimum of 8 shows on my currently watching

[kamaluhkhan]

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.

♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)

track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen

(winter — age 17)

“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”

it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember. 

you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers. 

“vi?”

“....yes?”

“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”

vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.

you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.

“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.” 

“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.” 

you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control. 

neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.

“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”

“i remember. you…you must miss her.” 

of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.

“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.

you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”

“your mom going, too?”

“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”

vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top. 

she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you. 

“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”

you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips. 

“why’s that?” you ask. 

there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go. 

vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins. 

vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.

“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.

“yeah?” 

vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being. 

“i want that too.”

vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults. 

you taste like home.

….

so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.

merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.

….

track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love

(winter — age 12)

you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’ 

when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world. 

“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”

you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.

“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”

you nod, smiling. “ekko!” 

your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them. 

you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.

…..

hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.

i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.  

…..

track 3: last christmas by wham!

(winter — now)

vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac: 

no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.

it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.

so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —

vi’s heading back home, back to you.

she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.

powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.

your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work. 

it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor. 

vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:

“violet? is that you?” 

she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.

“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs. 

she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do. 

vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party. 

with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke. 

“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”

vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways. 

so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow. 

“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”

“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”

“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”

the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.

“of course,” vi says. 

vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out: 

“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.

“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”

vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.

“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”

“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi. 

“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.

“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”

“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”

layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.

and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with. 

when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.

“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you. 

“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.” 

you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.

“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”

“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws. 

“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….” 

the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time. 

“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?” 

she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.

you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”

vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again. 

so, you do remember. 

she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —

“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’ 

vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years. 

“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue. 

“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.

“sure, but it ends hopefully.”

“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure? 

“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”

“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses. 

by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave. 

you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.

“not all of them.”

“yeah? which ones haven’t?”

vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”

you blink away and cut the engine.

….

you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating. 

he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.

should be fun. 

it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.

you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.

“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision. 

then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try. 

“you know powder’s graduating this year?” 

“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision. 

vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.

it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.

except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.

vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely. 

“hey. you still with me?”

you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.

…..

when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed. 

a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.

vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.

“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.” 

“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”

“oh, i know it.”

a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.

“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”

ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”

“i didn’t.”

“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”

“sure.”

“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…” 

“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”

“convincing her to go.” 

“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”

“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge. 

vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.

“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.” 

a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you. 

vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.

but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.

and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.

….

baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.

please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please. 

it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice. 

….

track 4: river by joni mitchell

(winter — age 23)

it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd. 

more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand. 

“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock. 

a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth. 

“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you. 

you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).

“me neither,” you smile. 

vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.

she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.

you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace. 

“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”

the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.

you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you. 

instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.

there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out. 

“wait, what the fu —”

you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.

“please, baby, let me explain —”

“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”

“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”

“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”

“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”

you stare at her, then start to laugh.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not.”

“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —” 

“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?” 

“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”

“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”

“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”

“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying. 

you take a deep, shaky breath.

“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”

vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.

…..

vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry. 

please come home.

…..

track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton 

(winter — now)

karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21. 

you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house. 

which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.   

right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’

about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass. 

“you remember.” 

“are you surprised?”

vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.” 

something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”

that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be. 

vi’s soft blue eyes search yours. 

“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”

you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’

you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.

as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.

“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”

“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.

“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.

you rip away from his grasp. 

“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”

“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —” 

“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”

“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder. 

oh, fuck no.

“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”

james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor. 

james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego. 

in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again. 

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. 

somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact. 

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.

“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.

vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.

she remembers. 

somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.

“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.

vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks. 

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”

while i’ve been away. 

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart. 

vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time. 

her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.

“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”

“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to. 

you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”

“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”

“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.” 

“you were my dream.”

you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”

“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.

“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work. 

you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door. 

logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….

you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying. 

so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.

she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear. 

“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”

“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”

vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.

you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.

“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”

“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”

you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear. 

“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”

you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her. 

“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl. 

you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.

“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.

her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes. 

“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.  

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.

vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake. 

“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi.  “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.

you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.

“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek. 

you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away. 

there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone. 

but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move. 

"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.

vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."

you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath. 

you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.

"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs. 

all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin. 

unacceptable.

the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.

with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."

vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.

"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."

at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head. 

with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open." 

vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”

“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer. 

“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit.  you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple. 

“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.

she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.

vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess. 

strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving. 

you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.

….

vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream. 

she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.

instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers. 

“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another. 

“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.

you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.

“shit, i — did you want some?”

you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”

vi nods.

okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash. 

it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before. 

“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?” 

you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand. 

“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”

your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:

“i do.”

vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday. 

“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”

you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back. 

“ekko talked to you, huh?”

“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”

“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.” 

“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling. 

“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”

vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours. 

“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.” 

“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?

“anything.”

“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”

“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”

“hey.” vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”

vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.” 

you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.

“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”

you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.

“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”

“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round.  “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.” 

“sounds like a plan,” you smile.

the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:

“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”

beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder. 

she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye. 

“i better go.” 

“....yeah.”

you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room. 

the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later. 

you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.

"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.

you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”

....

hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..

anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s. 

i’ll see you later. love you!

[alexmasonistired]

Id like to start this off by saying that this is an absolutely lovely post; thank you OP for making it. Now I would like to share our own experience with the education system in general, and what our state called- “Critical minds classes”.

Now if you don’t know what that is- it’s a thing in our state where 30 kids are chosen by the state to go into these special critical minds classes. We in particular were put in critical minds math and let me tell ya- IT FUCKING SUCKED.

All the class was, was us sitting in a certain spot that we could not move from the ENTIRE OVER AN HOUR THAT WE WERE IN THERE in SILENCE while working on these list of MathXL links. And if you know how MathXL works- yeahhh it was absolutely awful. Some of the worst parts of that class though, was that we had to keep our bags up front the entire time and we wouldn’t get anything because we wasn’t allowed out of our seat, and worst of all- the teacher that lead the class, always seemed like she just didn’t wanna be there. She felt intimidating to us so we never were able to approach her with our getting insanely nervous. She reminded us of the bodies mother with the way she looked so that made it worse. (Also edit: I just remembered- I believe for a good chunk of the first half of the semester she was watching our computers??)

Btw- remeber those check lists of MathXL links that I mentioned earlier??? Yeah. There was like- 18-20 of those links on these checklists that we used to have a month to complete! But then it was shortened to only a WEEK because the semester was ending and she needed to get grades in ig.

We had a whole ass panic attack infront of our history teacher becuase we were on list SIX, and there was TEN of these things to do. And I swear it felt like each list just had more links- we fucking hated it. I believe we finally made it to list eight before we eventually gave up and let the burn out take us over and just wrote in our diary the entire period. Except for the days we had quizzes and did blookets, which was hardly ever. At that point we were just SO fucking done of just not being able to understand ANYTHING put in front of us no matter how hard we tried. We just barely passed that class with a D.

I also remeber that we went to summer school after seventh grade because our grades were so low our teachers didn’t know if they could pass us. It was the same with in fifth grade, the teachers were nervous to let us go into middle school because we were just barely passing. Our grades were that bad.

We got to this point(the whole critical minds math thing and giving up,) because ever since like- second grade, we had been having massive trouble with math and grades and over all just confidence in general. Especially in the math field.

I remember we began cheating on a lot of our assignments and tests in second grade because our confidence had been bumped down that badly, and we just couldn’t really understand it. Or at least I believe that we couldn’t understand it- I’ll get into second grade math in another post. Regardless, we ended up sizing cheating as a last ditch effort a lot in school because we got to a point where we felt like we didn’t have a choice.

We would try so hard at something in math, only for our brain not being able to remember it, how to do it, and for it to also not make sense in our brain. It absolutely crushed us one day when we ended up in an argument with the father one day over another bad math grade and we yelled: “Is my best not enough not for you!?” And he just yelled back: “NO!” That day crushed us. The father always says that we just weren’t applying ourselves enough, which hurt even MORE because we WERE applying ourselves more, we WERE trying, and as hard as we could too! But we can only do so much, but it honestly seems like the parents, especially the father, just cannot realize that. And it hurts us, so much.

We always saw our friends in school absolutely soar and it was fucking awful how they would be getting into honors classes, getting to go up a grade or even graduate early, and then we would be sitting here in what is supposed to be an “extra help” class when in reality it didn’t help us at all. Due to our mental disabilities/Illnesses, we weren’t able to learn like the other kids were able too. All we’ve ever wanted was to be smart enough to be able to fly through school like our friends, study efficiently, and get our diploma normally like any other kid, but no. We didn’t have that experience and we never will due to our life and the way that our brain works and we fucking hate it.

There was also of times where we felt stupid, useless, and pathetic for not being able to keep up with our allistic, and non-ADHD-having peers. It especially was rough considering that that was the standard our parents set us too all the time, and we just could not reach the standards that she and the father set for us.

We tried tutoring a few times, but it honestly didn’t help much either. We never ever got the help that we needed growing up and I know that we never will get the help we need. And I hate it. So many people failed us when it came to education and I look back and can’t help but feel bad for us. We were just a young, neurodivergent kid with a dissociative disorder along with many other disorders alone with it, and a complete mess too. A mess that no one really bothered to help with. It was awful.

What we needed back then was one-on-one assistance with someone who could understand us and what was going on with us, we never got that. And that was because everyone around us failed us. Either failing to recognize our needs, or just not thinking that we needed them because it wasn’t super duper obvious that we did.

Kinda fucked up that we all coo and sympathize with "former gifted kids" but never talk about the students who had to stay late after school or over the summer for remedial classes/clubs, who struggled to get above a C, who were given up on or punished. Who tried so hard to understand or just couldn't. Who were grouped with the "stupid kids" (a classmate called us that in remedial math btw)

Autistic kids and adhders who can't relate to their gifted peers and are constantly alienated by them. Kids who struggled in school due to dealing with a chronic or mental illness or physical/learning/developmental disability. Those of us who have had to drop out of highschool or college. Kids who worked so hard and wanted to be seen as smart, but never were. Who watched as their peers seem to fly by them in school, while they were left behind. Who were bullied and put down by those in the gifted and honors classes. Whose confidence was absolutely destroyed by education.

I love you all and I'm so sorry the school system failed you. I'm sorry you weren't properly accommodated and given the education you deserved. I'm sorry people put you down for something that they never had to fight for.

[sucodelaranja86]

heyy! a fluff request for f!reader x hyun-ju (established relationship). Reader just got back home from a trip so hyun-ju couldn't help but be clingy when she got back home.

- did you miss me? : ★

featuring: hyun-ju cho x reader

summary: after a long trip, you come back home to your girlfriend who missed you more than she can express.

warnings: none

genre: fluff + comfort

A/N: a good part of it re-seted itself in my drafts.

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

➤ As you hopped off the bus, the front of your apartment was finally visible. Although you would normally be feeling tired by the end of your trip, there was a feeling that easily overpowered you body basic needs.

And that was the loneliness you felt without you beloved girlfriend. Over the time of this trip, you could finally realize how dependent you actually were on her. 3 weeks without her warm meals, 3 weeks without her soothing voice waking you up and putting you to sleep, without her energetic "welcome home" everytime you came back and opened that door.

And most of all, 3 weeks without any physical affection from her. You were going crazy!

As you quickly stumbled upstairs, you were greeted with the familiar door of your apartment. She messaged you that she didn't have any plans for today- which was great, she must be home. You messily picked up your keys and took a good 10 seconds to get the door open, trembling from anticipation.

As the door opens, you are greeted with the sight of your so beloved home, and a delicious smell that plagued the entire ambient. She must have already made dinner!

As you walk quietly throught the door leading to the kitchen, you see a familiar sight that you missed so much. She was wearing her typical messy ponytail, and a thin pair of sleepwear that consisted of shorts and a strap shirt.

A sight you definitively needed to see after a long day.

As she was cutting what you presumed that were vegetables, you quietly make you way behind her, trying to make a surprise, and-

"i know you are there, my love."

Stupid military experience.

She puts the knife down and makes her way towards you, pulling you into a tight hug. You both squish each other out of neediness. The longing you two felt while being away from each other felt terrible, but you're glad it's now over.

Your cute moment is temporarily interrupted as she purposefully squishes your face onto her chest, a playful smile on her face.

"Did you miss me, hm?"

Oh, she knew the effect she had on you, didn't she?

-

Dinner was long-time ready, but you couldn't bring yourself to get up and eat.

As you were cuddling with your needy girlfriend, it was like seeing a whole new person. Who would tell that the usually adult-like person of the relationship would be reduced to a puddle of clingyness?

As you planted kisses along the top of her head, you couldn't help but imagine how long this would last?

Is not like you weren't enjoying it, it was the absolute contrary! You loved every single second of being with her. It was just...

You couldn't breathe.

When you imagined a 'bone-crushing' hug, you didn't meant it literally. As your partner, even in her sleep, seemed to want to perpetrate your heart.

You tried to move out of her hug, even if it was just a bit. But again, her military experience seemed to just complicate your life.

"... Where are you going?"

She said in a groggy tone, still holding like an anime high-school girl into your left arm.

"Do my plate for dinner."

"... Please... stay"

Who even was this impostor? Your girlfriend who nagged you if you skipped a single meal was not this clingy creature-! It seemed that you created a whole new person by just staying out for a few days.

Before you could object further, she used her weight to pull you down again. This time, snuggling your face, again, agaisnt her chest.

"Goodnight, my love..." she muttered in a sleepy tone.

. . .

Dinner could wait.

"Goodnight, Hyun-ju."

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

[littlegrapejuice]

Flatline | LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando parties a bit too hard and needs to be patched up. Luckily, he can count on a pretty nurse.

Author's Note: I'M BACK MFS🙂‍↕️ it's been a while haha but enjoy this lil lando fic that was inspired by the song Flatline by 5sos!! Also happy new year hehe, hope everyone is doing good and i wish y'all the best for 2025🫶🏻

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

King’s Day 2024. Amsterdam, Netherlands.

Amongst all the drivers, people would’ve thought Max Verstappen the most prone to be sighted in public while celebrating his country on its national day. However, the one that was currently trending on social media was Lando Norris. Pictures as well as videos were being posted, reposted, and commented on every second. No one had expected Lando to spend the weekend away in the Netherlands in between two grand prix. But here he was, partying on a boat and even DJ-ing along with his good friend Martin Garrix.

Lando didn’t know whether people just didn’t care about him – seeing as the Netherlands were the home of one of the greatest drivers of the current generation – or if people actually didn’t know him. In any case, he was glad not to be disturbed by fans – even though he loved them – and be able to enjoy the day the same way everyone else was doing it: by partying, dancing, singing, and drinking.

Obviously, Lando was planning to be careful as he knew that his PR team would have his head if he did something stupid during his two-week break. But still, he was having fun like a typical twenty-four year old. He was having the time of his life. Dutch people definitely knew how to party on their national day, that’s for sure.

…..

A few hours later however, what everyone hadn’t been expecting was for Lando to end the day with bandages all over his face. As the surprise of him being in the Netherlands settled down after a while, pictures and videos stopped circulating around. Until fans all over the world were met with images of Lando with a bloody nose, a smile still on his face. People had no idea what had happened. No context had been given, only the speculation of Lando having drunk and partied too hard that he had hurt himself.

Fortunately for him, Lando had been able to count on you. Being a friend of a friend, you loosely knew Martin but had never really exchanged more than a few words with him. However, he was currently glad that the invitation to his boat party had managed to reach you as you were qualified to take care of Lando’s battle wound – his words. Being a nurse, and the only one with some medical knowledge on the boat, you had quickly reacted when people had started panicking after seeing Lando’s face starting to bleed.

To be honest, people had overreacted a bit. Because when you approached Lando to see the extent of the damage, you realised it was only a cut albeit the consequence of some glass. So although he wasn’t hurt very badly, you still suggested bringing him into the hospital where you worked. Obviously, Lando had refused at first as he pretended that everything was fine. He was. But just to be sure, you needed to give him a general check-up in a clean location as a random boat in Amsterdam wasn’t exactly the most hygienic place to patch someone up.

So after Martin also agreed to the idea, Lando had no choice but to listen to his friend and go with you. The Dutch told Lando that he would come get him later as he needed to bring his DJ equipment back home – he promised to be ready to give him a ride back from the hospital later on as he knew that Lando had a flight the next day. This is thus how you found yourself in a cab with none other than Formula One driver Lando Norris on the way to your workplace. Truth be told, you hadn’t expected to go there today. But you knew it was part of your job to be able to help anyone in need even if you were on your day off.

The ride had mostly been silent. Lando had been on his phone, probably texting a few people about his whereabouts, while you were focused on the next steps to do when you’d be arriving at the hospital. You were pleasantly surprised when Lando paid the driver without a second thought and told him to keep the change.

“I could’ve paid, you know. Thanks,” you told him as you entered the building.

“You’re taking care of me on what definitely seemed like your day off, so that’s the least I can do for you.” Lando smiled at you and even with the bandages around his face, he was still very good-looking.

“Still, I appreciate it. You can go wait in this room if that’s okay?” He nodded and you finished explaining what would happen next. “I just need to inform my manager I’m here, get some stuff for a small check-up, and then I’m all yours. I won’t be long.”

“Sounds perfect”, Lando replied with a grin.

True to your words, you were back in the room where you’d left the Brit less than ten minutes later. He noticed that you’d changed into your uniform – which you’d been lucky to have a spare here as your usual one was at your flat – and enjoyed the view of observing you in your element. Working in the medical field was your calling, and you didn’t see yourself anywhere else.

First, you removed the bandages that you’d wrapped around Lando’s face earlier before you cleaned up the small wound – properly this time, with adequate material. As Lando winced when you disinfected it, you apologised.

“Does it hurt much?” You asked.

“Not really”, he shrugged. “Just uncomfortable I guess.”

“Hmm, okay”, you nodded. “Tell me if there’s anything else at any point.”

Quickly finishing up, you were soon enough putting a band-aid on Lando’s nose. You debated offering to put a silly one originally designed for kids, but decided otherwise as you didn’t want to look weird for suggesting it. However, the driver had noticed your eyes drifting to them when you’d hesitated in which one to take, so he spoke up:

“You think you could actually give me one of those”, he wondered with a smile before adding. “The cute ones, there.”

When you saw that he was pointing at the Disney ones, you stiffled a laugh. You hadn’t expected him to directly ask for one himself, but you were kinda glad that he did. Amongst the different characters present, your choice was easily made.

“I guess that the Cars one caught your eye?” You raised an eyebrow, waiting to see if you were right.

“Bingo!” He laughed. “I’ll admit that Frozen was tempting but I gotta stay true to my roots.”

“Fair enough”, you chuckled. “Your job ain’t really much to do with building ice castles, or I’ve done my research wrong.”

“You looked me up?” Lando asked, the surprise obvious in his tone.

“Well, yeah?” You answered with a ‘duh’ tone as you gently put the Cars band-aid over the plain one you’d previously applied. “Even though the whole country supports Max and not many people care about the other drivers, I gotta know about the competition.”

“You think I’m competition to Max?”

“Of course! Anyone is: as long as Max isn’t the only driver racing on track, he has competition.”

Your explanation made Lando’s grin widen as he was glad to be considered in the same league as the Max Verstappen, especially by someone who lived in the Netherlands. To you, any other driver that had managed to be a part of the twenty that raced in Formula One was a good one – Lando included.

“He does have three more championship titles than me though”, Lando stated. “And God knows how many wins.”

“He’s had a good car for years,” you pointed out. “Your time will come, don’t worry. I can feel the papaya greatness for this year – though if I ever wear orange, it’s for Max.”

Not knowing what to reply to your words, Lando simply nodded while you put away the box of band-aids. You thought about the final steps of your check-up, and turned back to face the driver.

“Okay, so I’ll just put this on your finger to see your heart rate and then I’ll make you do a breathalyser if that’s alright with you?”

“Yeah, no problem. Do your job, don’t worry.”

“Great, thanks.” You carefully clipped the pulse oximeter on Lando’s finger before stepping away. “I'll be right back in a minute.”

“Take your time,” Lando replied. “I’m not going anywhere.”

When you left the room, the Brit let out the biggest sigh of his life. Oh God, he thought. It seemed like you hadn’t realised how close you’d been to Lando as you were only focused on doing your job, but he hadn’t been able to take his eyes away from you. He really hoped you hadn’t noticed anything, as the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable at your workplace. Get a grip, Lando told himself while waiting for you to be back. Don’t fuck this up if you want a chance.

You came back into the room shortly after, a box in your hands – which Lando assumed to be the breathalyser. He knew he had drunk enough that he wouldn’t be allowed to drive, but he hoped he had sobered up enough after his trip to the hospital. After unboxing the breathalyser, you got close to Lando again and explained to him what he’d have to do.

“Nothing too complicated, don't worry. You’ll just have to exhale into this.” You showed him the object. “And I’ll tell you when to stop. Then, you’ll be good to go!”

Lando nodded in reply, even though he hadn’t really paid attention to the actual words you’d said. He had been more focused on your face and the way you’d gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. He almost wished he’d been the one to do it, and he wondered if it was the remains of alcohol in his blood making him think that. He also wondered if he would still be attracted to you if he had met you while stone cold sober. But when you gave him a soft reassuring smile as you told him to be ready to blow into the breathalyser, he knew he would find you gorgeous no matter his state of mind.

What he didn’t know though, is if it was the alcohol or his attraction to you that was making his heart faster – both, to be honest. The result was the same: the machine was showing his heart rate quickening and Lando could perfectly hear it echoing in his head, which made his eyes widen at the thought that you would hear it too. Lando’s heart rate was actually the least of your worries as you were focused on the current task of measuring the level of alcohol in his blood, but it became the most important barely two seconds later when you heard the continuing beep that usually meant the lack of heartbeat.

“Your heart is going flatline!” You exclaimed in shock as you tried to quickly assess how Lando looked in order to find the cause. “Oh my God… oh my God, what the fuck is happening?!”

And while you were panicking, Lando realised that he had made a grave mistake. See, as he still wasn’t back to his normal state of mind, the driver thought that it was a wonderful idea to just remove the pulse oximeter from his finger so that you wouldn’t have noticed his heart rate speeding. But of course, you had immediately noticed the lack of constant beep from the machine and were currently still stressing – breathalyser completely forgotten.

Seeing your panicked state, Lando was now feeling extremely guilty and decided to come clean.

“I’m fine!” He was almost shouting. Hearing his voice made you stop in your tracks, and you looked at him with worry in your eyes. “Sorry”, he apologised. “I accidentally removed the thing, please calm down. I’m not dead.”

“Oh”, you could only answer. You felt awkward now. “That’s good, then.” You scratched your neck and nervously laughed. “It’s weird, it shouldn’t come off that easily unless it’s forcibly removed. Sorry if I gave you one that wasn’t properly working.”

And this was his last straw. Lando was now feeling even guiltier at your words, as you were going to blame yourself for using seemingly faulty equipment.

“Please don’t be mad, but… I-actually-removed-it-myself”, he said as quickly as he could.

“What?” You questioned with a tilt of your head.

“I removed the heart thingy myself because I didn’t want you to hear my heart rate.”

“Lando, that’s my job?”

“Yeah, but like…” He didn’t know what else to say, except for the truth – thank the alcohol for giving him the confidence to utter the next words. “I was just thinking about you, and you were looking super pretty while explaining stuff, and I wasn’t really paying attention to be honest, but then I felt like my heartbeat was going really fast, and you’d hear it, and you’d think I’m like weird, and–”

“Oh God, Lando calm down!” You put your hands on his shoulders so that he would look at you instead of the floor, and meeting your eyes silenced him. “You’re good, don’t explain yourself. I know that you’re not completely sober yet so your mind might make you do weird things. I’m just glad you’re alright and not suddenly a victim of a heart attack.”

“I don’t want you to see me as a crazy drunk guy right now!” He retorted, trying to clear his name. “Even sober, I’d think the same. Maybe not do the same stupid shit though…” He muttered the last sentence.

Silence now filled the room as you removed your hands from Lando and put them in your pockets before sighing. You tried to assess the situation and process his words. You’d had your fair share of people complimenting you in your workplace so Lando’s feelings weren’t that unusual, but it was still rare to end up in this type of situation. You thought for a minute about what to do while Lando stayed quiet. He was scared of dumb words leaving his mouth, so he didn’t want to take any more risks.

“Tell you what”, you caught his attention. “We finish this up, I clear you free to go, and maybe we can start over when you’re not my patient anymore. Sounds good?”

Still not trusting his words, Lando simply nodded. You then kept going with the last steps of your check-up before announcing to Lando that he was discharged. He had surprisingly sobered up quicker than you would’ve thought – maybe because of the heart rate incident – and his alcohol level wasn’t as high as you’d imagined it to be.

You walked him back to the entrance hall and asked him if Martin was here to get him. He briefly checked his phone and noticed a couple texts from the Dutch that were notifying him of his arrival in a few minutes. You therefore decided to wait with Lando, having all the time in the world – it was still your day off and you knew that the hospital wasn’t understaffed today, so there was no need for you to stay and give a hand.

As you were waiting in an excruciatingly awkward silence, Lando chose to man up and clear the previous situation up.

“I still think you’re beautiful,” he stated. “And I’d love to get to know you,” he added. “I know I’m not fully sober yet, but I’m almost there and my thoughts haven’t changed.”

“That’s good to know”.

“Good as in positive for me to shoot my shot?” Lando wondered with a nervous smile.

“You can try, I think your chances of success are pretty high right now.”

“Great.” His grin widened, and you couldn’t help thinking about how he was currently the beautiful one. “So, can we go out together one day? I know this great restaurant that my wonderful local friends told me about.”

“That’d be my pleasure”, you replied.

“When do you finish work?” He asked, even though he knew the answer.

“I’m actually done…” You feigned to analyse the time on your watch. “Right now. What a coincidence!”

“Coincidence indeed”, Lando agreed. He then took out his phone and gave it to you. “I’ll text you the location?”

“Sure”, you nodded. “Maybe not a full meal tonight, but I’m still down for a drink and snacks.”

“Works for me. Raincheck for a proper date then?”

“Come back for it once you have a race win under your belt”, you challenged.

“Deal”, he accepted. “I have really good motivation.”

“Tell you what, you can also get a wish if it’s the next race that you win.”

“A wish? Anything?” You nodded and Lando thought about ideas. “Kiss on the first date?”

“Alright, you’re on!” You sealed the deal with a handshake, a playful glint in your eyes.

Merely a couple seconds later, Martin was pulling up in front of the hospital which was yours and Lando’s cue to go your separate ways before meeting soon again.

…..

A week later following your semi-date with Lando, you were now watching him celebrate his first win on the top step of the podium in Miami. You couldn’t be prouder of him, and your first thought was to text him as soon as you saw him go back to his garage. You hoped that he’d have access to his phone soon enough and quickly drafted a message to congratulate him. Right before you sent it, your wish – and eventually his in the process – seemed to have been granted.

Flying back to you next weekend before imola

I’m expecting a welcome kiss👀

You chuckled at his texts, a blush appearing on your cheeks as you thought about how he was still serious about you, and deleted your initial message before sending a new one.

Wouldn’t have it any other way

Congratulations race winner! Can’t wait for the next ones, I knew your time was coming🧡

If Lando never imagined that being hurt could lead to him bagging a pretty nurse and getting his first Formula One win, he was now thinking that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get a small wound before each race if it meant that you would take care of him and that he’d be lifting the winner’s trophy afterwards.

..........

Hope y'all liked this ^^ idk if it's common knowledge on here but I'm a HUGE 5sos fan and when i recently heard flatline after a while, i knew i had to write smth f1 related for this song (esp the chorus)

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated if you enjoy my writing<3 it means a lot to me and i love knowing what people think - apart from my bestie who's often my #1 fan haha

See you next time, take care🤍

[starry-on-ao3]

Okay but this is actually a perfect metaphor for-

Hold on

*scramble to get a projector screen and flashcards*

*clears throat*

One of the best pieces of writing advice I've seen recently that really helped me with my current WIPs is to just go ahead and write The Perfect Scene in the middle, and figure the rest out later!! Break free of the myth that you must write in a linear fashion!! Yes you must eventually fill in the bits before and after The Perfect Scene, so that the readers understand whatever wild and wacky journey you're bringing them on, but it shouldn't be a slog to get there - by the time you get there, you'll have muddled through the before bits and struggled so much you'll either resent the fic and give up, or The Perfect Scene won't live up to your ridiculously high expectations because of how long it took you to get there.

✨For example ✨

the current WIP I'm working on I'm estimating will have 25-30 chapters (and probably an epilogue). I have written as far as chapter 10 and have posted as far as chapter 4. I am estimating the dramatic resolution of the plot will occur in or around chapter 23-27. That's roughly 13-17 chapters in the future. Now that the holidays are over, and I'm back to work and various other commitments, I have no idea how long it'll take me to get there! It could be weeks or months! So I can't guarantee that I'll have the same enthusiasm for The Perfect Scene in weeks or months from now - and, in case I don't, I may as well partially write it now just as insurance. Even if it's not perfect, I can change it later, and at least I have an ideal to work towards!

More juicy writing advice

Another small piece of advice is to keep a note of the things that inspire you - for me it's song lyrics, which is why many of my pics begin with a playlist. In my tumblr drafts I have two posts where I'm writing a reflection on the writing process for this WIP and for a series which soon will be ending (sadly). Nobody ever necessarily needs to read your reflections, but it helps me to write these reflections as if I was planning on sharing them here, which I may do if there's interest. (but also it's your blog?!! you can do wtf you want with it?!! If you want to write critical reflection of your own work then just do it because I guarantee it will interest other fic authors, I love hearing about other fic authors experiences and writing journeys!)

Anyway hope this helps somebody 🤗🫶

[revelboo]

it probably didn't happen, but imagine the shrinking somehow reached the decepticons. I need the humans to react to the tiny cons because they of all the transformers act like they're scary and tough, but need a good hug.

You guys keep me amused 😂 Let’s just go with suspension of disbelief and say somehow Wheeljack also FUBARed the Cons

I have requests for TFA Shockwave, Sunstorm, Rung, TFA Ratchet, Hound, and Cyberverse Soundwave. I’m actually busy at work this week, though, researching and compiling data, so updates may be wonky unless I start typing up the next day’s posts the previous night

Mass Displacement Mayhem Scenarios Pt 3

Megatron

• Staggering and off balance as he’s forced to mass displace without warning and then realizes he went past his limits somehow. That he’s only about knee high on you. The shock of it freezing him in place, so he flinches when you grab him and drag him into you. And it’s wholly undignified the way you’re going on about his “widdle” cannon. Why are you talking like that? He’s wracking his processor trying to figure out how this happened, because he’s stuck and can’t mass shift back. Left tiny and vulnerable, though it’s hard to focus on defense when you’re cupping his face in your warm palms, apparently delighted. Venting because he’s much too old for this, he keeps an optic and his cannon aimed at the door as you pull him into your lap to fuss over him. Secretly enjoying the feel of you hugging him as undignified as it is, but please stop talking to him like he’s a sparkling.

Thundercracker

• Has absolutely no idea what just happened, but before he can even try to figure it out, you attack. Had known you were still unhappy about being stolen, but didn’t expect you to lash out- oh, never mind. You just want to pick him up. Little wings flicking fitfully when you press a kiss to his helm and play with his wings with gentle fingers. All while cooing at him. Knows he should be mortified, but he’s enjoying the attention. Fuss over him all you want.

Starscream

• Flies to perch out of reach the instant you made that awful noise and tried to grab him. Glowering as you try to coax him to you. Why are you crooning at him like that? It’s undignified and he’s more worried about how vulnerable you both are right now. No, he’s not coming down. He is absolutely not cute. Trying his best to ignore you and keep an optic on the door ready to attack, because he’s completely stressed out, wings flared and paranoia out of control.

Constructicons

• Scattered when you ran toward them. They have no idea what happened, but to avoid being caught, they have to transform to speed away and you’re laughing hysterically as you chase after them. Bonecrusher gives up first and transforms back. Unresisting as you grab him and sit, grinning over how cute he is. Eventually they all wander over once they realize you’re not attacking. Patiently letting you fuss over all of them, grumbling but secretly eating up the attention. Scavenger just outright climbing into your lap for a hug.

Soundwave

• Hoisting Soundwave up into your arms to save him from his overly excited cassettes, you’re as giddy as they are. Because somehow Soundwave mass displaced smaller than you’ve ever seen. And because you’re holding him, you’re now also being mobbed by cassettes wanting to hold tiny Soundwave. Feeling guilty about it as you cave to their pleas and sit crosslegged with him in your lap, hearing his tired venting as you and his cassettes fuss over how cute he is. Tipping his head back to stare at you. “Traitor,” he grumbles, that serious voice coming from such a tiny frame shattering your own composure as you hug him laughing.

Shockwave

• Antenna back as he gets carried around like a helpless sparkling. Asks you to put him down and you ignore him, and since he’s unwilling to hurt you to get free, he’s just tolerating it. Please stop kissing him on the head, you’re making his processor chaotic. Cute? Him? Illogical. Venting tiredly at you the whole time, but a part of him almost enjoying the attention and how gentle your hands are. That you’re not intimidated by him at this size.

Previous

[startaegi]

ON THE RUN, cho hyunju. 【 CHAPTER 01 】

⤑ pairing, cho hyunju x fem!reader

⤑ synopsis, where secret-not so secret lovers, hyunju and yn find each other in the unlikely of places.

⤑ series masterlist, on the run.

⤑ chapter two, coming soon!

⤑ notes, hi welcome to my first fic on here! i haven’t written anything in years but i couldn’t not write something for my girl bcos she deserves all the love. anyways enjoy, i hope it isn’t too bad!! 🫶🏻

⤑ taglist, @etta-huracan (if you would like to be added let me know)

The day seemed to pass slowly. You spent most of it watching the hours tick by. Midnight at Hangang Bridge the robotic voice had said when calling the unknown number two days ago, a number from a card you'd received from a well dressed man in Sinchon station. Your face was still slightly bruised from that interaction, you had never been the best at playing ddakji. It was 30 minutes until 12 and you knew if you didn't leave now, you wouldn't make it on time. As risky as it was you weren't missing out on the opportunity to potentially win life changing money.

You unplugged your phone from the charger and switched off the broken lamp that did nothing to light your room. The apartment was small, all contained in one room minus the bathroom but it was the best you could get with what you have. You slipped on your shoes, eyes scanning the place one last time and eventually landing on the fridge. The note she had left was still there, her messy handwriting followed by little hearts in the corner, you could picture her folded over the kitchen island, a little smile on her face as she doodled her love onto the page. You missed her more than anything.

You quickly pulled yourself together closing the door behind you. A noise to the left startled you, keys almost falling from your hands. The sweet lady who owned the building with her son was hiding herself from view of the streets, the curtains slightly moving from the wind. "Hi, Ajumma" You called.

She turned with a smile on her face, backing away from the window. "Oh hello Y/N love" She replied. 

"Are you okay?" You questioned. It wasn't like her to be roaming around the halls so late in the night especially at her age.

"I don't want to worry you" She said hesitantly. You froze, mind instantly going to Hyunju. Did she finally come by? "Those same men where outside again, no good for nothing they are" She seethed.

Your heart sank. "Oh"

"I've been keeping an eye on them just in case but looks like they're gone now" She said, walking alongside you towards the exit. "You're leaving late? Everything okay?" She asked.

You nodded. "Going to visit a friend for a while, i'll be back in time for rent payments" You assured her, the last thing you needed was to be evicted.

She patted your shoulder affectionately. "Don't worry about that, you go have a nice time" She smiled. "You deserve it"

You paused for a second, words caught in your throat. "If-" You started. "If you see Hyunju can you tell her i'll be back soon? Tell her not to go anywhere, please" You practically begged. It would be just your luck, the moment you leave she would appear again.

Her eyes softened, a look of sympathy flashed across her face. She nodded, caressing your shoulder again. "Of course I will sweetheart. You still haven't heard from her?" She questioned.

You shook your head. It had been 30 days, an entire month since you last seen the one good thing in your life. You were left with a text message, one you'd read more times than you could count, one you could recite by heart if asked. She was leaving but she'd be back soon. At first you were angry, how dare she leave you after everything you'd been through together, with just a message through a screen. Then the days turned to weeks and your anger became worry. Where was she? Why wasn't she returning your calls or texts? You didn't want to expect the worst but in the country you lived as the people you both are, being alone wasn't a good idea. You lost sleep, your headaches not that you thought they could, somehow became worse. Your medication bottles became empty and your pockets just the same. You only hope she'll be back by the time you return and this time you'll have a bank balance enough to get you out of this place.

You finally left the building when another resident entered, distracting the older woman and making your exit, but of course not forgetting to say goodbye. The rain was heavy, bouncing against the cracked pavements. The silence is eerie. The broken street lamps flicker casting shadows on the wet pavements, your jacket doesn't have a hood leaving your hair to get drenched by the midnight drizzle. You scan the roads, no cars or people in sight. An overwhelming feeling of anxiety washes over you, a familiar sensation that mostly greets you in the night.

You don't have time to dwell on it as a beam of headlights approach you. A silver car pulls up beside you, the passenger side window rolls down. You're taken back at the person sat in the driver seat, face concealed by a black mask. They're also wearing a pink suit, their entire body hidden.

"Name?" The masked person questions.

"Y/N L/N" You reply, droplets of rain falling against your open lips.

They don't reply instead the back door clicks open. You quickly slide into the empty seat shielding yourself from the rain. You push the wet hair from your eyes only then noticing other people sat in the seats around you, seemingly asleep.

"Uh, excuse me?" You ask the masked driver. "What's-" You stop mid sentence, suddenly it becomes harder to breathe and a mysterious mist fogs your eyesight. You struggle to move your mouth, your entire body feels heavy. You feel the jolt of the car starting again and before you know it you're being sent into a slumber completely unaware of the hell that awaits you.

[puppykatz]

pls write some fluff w dani and gn!reader

12:00AM ‹𝟹

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ; daniela avanzini x gn reader.

summary ‎::: you and dani have been in the talking stage for a couple weeks now, but new years might be the final push you two need.

warnings ‎::: reader gets a little overstimulated, but that's it !!

note... a week late for new years bc im a slow writer.. and the intro reads a tad rushed bc i had a rough time figuring out how to make the transition smooth :[ im very sorry!! (also i am in fact working on some other requests rn! ty guys sm for your patience ^.^)

dani smiled, greeting everyone excitedly whilst they cheered over her arrival. you stood behind her nervously, yours hands intertwined, giving a meek smile along with small waves to the few people who noticed and welcomed you in.

you were dani's plus one to a new years gathering, and to say you were anxious was an understatement; this was the first time you were meeting any of her friends in person. you'd talked to a few of them interchangeably a couple times, when they'd burst into her room while the two of you were calling or texting. you'd talked the most to manon, seeing as she's dani's roomate, and often entertained you whenever dani stepped away for a little during one of your calls.

it wasn't long before two of you were pulled away into watching an on-going uno match, as it was the crowd's current main focus.

eventually, that game ended, and a second one started—but unfortunately, you had been eliminated pretty early on, and since everyone else was busy continuing on with the game, you'd figured it'd be okay to step out onto the balcony for a few as it had gotten a little rowdy due to all the +2s.

what you didn't realize, was that dani had gotten eliminated as well, and noticed you leaving. she frowned, wondering if something happened that upset you. to not draw any attention to you or her, she stood up quietly, following you out onto the balcony.

“yn?” she called out, softly shutting the balcony door behind her. you greeted her, smiling sheepishly as she stood next to you. “are you alright?”

“yeah. it was just kind of.. loud.”

she inched closer to you, taking your hands in hers. “we can leave if you want.”

you shook your head profusely, “no, i'm okay. really.” you gave her hands a light squeeze as affirmation, your heart warming up at the fact that she seemed so genuinely concerned.

she opened her mouth to say something else, immediately being cut off by ruckus from within the house; everyone had paused the game and begun counting down. “it's 12:00 already?” she muttered, unconsiously fiddling with your hands.

as soon as the countdown got to one, your eyes were fixated on the sky, cheerfully watching all the different fireworks go off. dani, on the other hand, had her gaze fixated on you; admiring how pretty you looked with all the firework colors lighting up your face.

“can i kiss you?” her voice was barely over a whisper, as if it was a thought that wasn't meant to be said aloud.

you whipped your head to look at her, immediately being met with her gaze; the sweetest, love-filled doe eyes you'd ever seen staring back at you. she was a lot closer than you remembered, yet you were unsure if you had even heard her correctly.

“please?” hearing her plea made your stomach flip, and you couldn't help but nod giddily.

you couldn't even get a second nod in before her lips were on yours, her hand traveling up to caress your cheek while the other tugged you closer by the hem of your shirt. the kiss was slow, her lips moving against yours passionately, though delicately, as if she were afraid to hurt you or possibly scare you away.

she let go of your shirt, bringing her other hand up to hold your face fully. your knees wobbled, feeling her smile into the kiss. “already falling for me?”

you barely had the chance to respond before a knock on the balcony door startled you two apart.

“we're.. starting uno round three.. or are you guys too busy?” manon smiled innocently at the two of you, clearly planning all the different ways she'd tease dani about this later.

dani bashfully muttered a response, entwining your hands again and following manon back inside, bringing you along with her.

── 𖹭 ──

for the rest of the night, dani hovered around you; her hand never left yours and the smile on her face never faded once. the kiss had seemingly boosted her confidence, as she'd started openly using pet names for you. she'd also gotten a lot more touchy; currently, she had her arms wrapped around your waist, her chin resting on your shoulder while she hugged you from behind.

“babe, play that one.” dani perked up, using her head to point to a card in your hand.

“hold on. how is it fair that these two are teaming??” megan called out, pointing at you and dani, since you guys had decided to mix your cards and just play as one.

“leave them alone megan, you know dani will explode if she's away from yn for five minutes.” sophia remarked, nudging dani with her shoulder playfully.

dani's cheeks heated up and she hid her face in the crook of your neck, hugging you a little tighter.

you finally placed down a card, “okay, okay. lara, your turn.” unable to hold back your smile, you turned to dani, pressing a kiss to the side of her head before turning your attention back to the game.

[evie-sturns]

first date - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after a perfect first date with matt, the last thing you expected is for him to make such a big move after he drives you home, you definitely aren't complaining after though,

contains: fluff, an intense makeout session, shy!matt (to an extent) swearing.

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

tonight had just been perfect,

i met matt at a party last week, and i couldn’t say no to his somewhat amusingly awkward self as he asked for my number.

he was just my type, his loose brown waves draped over his forehead, his earrings catching the light from the party and sparkling, and his shy demeanour.

he messaged me a day ago, asking if i wanted to go out for dinner with him, which i obviously agreed to.

10:21pm

i shivered in the cool air of the night, smiling up at matt as he ordered you both an ice-cream cone,

“you cold?” matt asks softly, i nod as i sink my top teeth into my bottom lip as a weak attempt to stop the chattering of my teeth.

“a little bit,” i laugh,

matt instantly takes off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders,

“why didn’t you bring a coat? it’s like the middle of december.” he scoffs, nudging my elbow slightly.

“shuuush, i didn’t know you’d take me out for icecream at like- midnight!” i throw my hands up defensively,

“righhttt.” he grins down at me.

-

the night was coming to a close as you jumped into the passenger seat of matt’s car, clutching an icecream cone in your hand as you fiddled with the seatbelt.

“you okay?” he asks, starting up the car.

“yeah- i’m still cold though.” i roll my eyes playfully, matt instantly reaches out and fiddles with the heating, cranking it up.

“wait what the fuck- since when did i have the option to have heated seats!” he exclaims, his jaw slack as he pushes the button.

“ew matt! my butts warm now.” i groan, instantly turning off the button.

matt laughs loudly as he pulls out of the parking lot, staring the drive home.

i look over at him a couple times, his ringed fingers gripping the steering wheel catching my eye.

i’m definitely staring now.

his hands were perfect, he was perfect. i genuinely did not catch one wrong thing about him from the date.

he was shy, but the right amount of shy, i could tell he was starting to get more comfortable around me, which i liked.

matt pulls onto the highway, the car roaring as he accelerates.

i continue to work at my icecream cone, trying to stop the massive staring problem i’ve picked up.

matt’s playlist plays through the car, his knee bobbing up and down as he listens to it.

“you live down here right?” matt asks, pulling off the highway into a small neighbourhood.

“you remembered!” i grin,

“of course i did.” he speaks back, his tone light hearted.

“i’m just down here.” i say, pointing to a street sign.

he pulls into the street, his car slowing down as he scans the row of houses.

he parks the car in front of my house. swallowing lightly as he turns off the car.

“thank you- so much for tonight matt.” i say, my tongue darting out to lick my lips,

“yeah- yeah no problem..” he whispers,

“we should do it again soon.” i speak, matt nods.

“i’ll text you, okay?” he says, a nervous smile on his face.

“okay- yeah.” i grin, a undeniable tension building in the car…

i grab my purse and reach for the door, but matt clears his throat.

i look over my shoulder at him, he looks nervous as shit.

he reaches up and cups my jaw, the cold metal of his rings pressing against my flushed cheek.

he leans over the centre console and presses a kiss to my lips.

he pulls away pretty quickly, knowing this is the first date and we shouldn’t do any more… right?

but for some reason, the feeling of his lips on mine linger.

i stare at his lips, not moving.

i need more.

i know i’m going to have to initiate something, knowing he’s to shy to make a lot of moves.

“can- can we do that again?” i speak, my voice hoarse as i break the silence.

he nods instantly, his hands clenching by his sides.

i lean back over the centre console, grabbing his chin as i press my lips to his again.

my face heats up instantly, pure ecstasy flooding through my body.

he deepens the kiss, his head tilting to the side as our noses brush.

goosebumps cover my arms as his tongue slides over my lip, practically begging for entry.

i don’t know what comes over me, but in a matter of seconds i’m climbing over the seats,

i sit down on matt’s lap, straddling him as i break the kiss.

he stares up at me, his eyes wide and full of need.

he grabs the back of my head, instantly reconnecting our lips.

“fuck..” he whimpers against my lips,

i feel a familiar heat growing between my thighs, my skirt riding up my legs as i practically devour him with my lips.

he just tastes so, so good.

his hands paw at my waist, grabbing the fabric of my thin shirt as he holds me.

i subconsciously rock my hips against his thigh.

he gasps against my lips as i grind against his clothed thigh.

“oh my god..” i whisper against his lips as i pathetically rub myself against his leg.

i feel myself getting too into it, not wanting to rush him on the first date.

i break the kiss, the windows now foggy.

he looks up at me with pure desperation.

god he looks hot.

his lips are smeared with my red lipstick, the pigment messily coating his chin. his eyes are narrow and hungry, and his hands are gripping my waist, tight.

i reach up and wipe his lips, trying to remove the lipstick stains.

“i’ll- i’ll uh- okay- um-“ matt stammers,

“i’ll- i’ll text you.” he croaks out, his hands sinking into my waist.

“okay- okay.” i breathe,

i quickly crawl back over the centre console and grab my purse.

i look back at matt over my shoulder, his lips are puffy and red.

his hair is dishevelled, and as my eyes travel down his body.

he is most definitely hard.

i grin at him before swinging open the car door,

“b-bye- bye!” he calls out shakily,

“bye matt-!” i smile as i step out onto the footpath, shutting the car door behind me.

i jog up to my house, my heels clicking on the driveway.

i swing open my front door and suck in a well needed deep breath.

i walk over to my couch, and before i even have the time to sit down my phone vibrates frantically in my pocket.

5 new messages from - Matt

my eyes scan over the messages, which read.

“come back to the car”

“i seriously need you right now this isn’t funny”

“please”

“i’m still parked outside please”

“i’ll literally do anything.”

and before i know it, i’m rushing for my front door and running down the driveway towards matt’s car.

——-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnn n @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow w @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle e @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo larsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette e @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101saroona a @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 1 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz 4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover r @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall john @raysmayhem-72

[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART NINE

paige x azzi

word count: 6.4k

A/N: Alright I’m feeling much better and I’m no longer losing my shit after CD said she wouldn’t call it an injury 🙂‍↕️. Here’s the next chapter! It’s a little rough at the beginning but just get through it trust me . Please leave live reacts if you can, I need a little extra motivation today 😭

—————————————————————————

October 2022

For weeks after their argument, Paige kept her word. She stayed true to her role as Azzi’s best friend and was there anytime the younger girl needed her, it didn’t matter what she was doing, she was there. She did make Azzi stop coming with her to physical therapy though, and Nika had stepped in to take her place. Physical therapy always got a little too intimate when they’d ask whoever accompanied Paige to push on her knee and Paige knew that she and Azzi couldn’t handle that right now. They still spent time together–Paige helping Azzi in the gym here and there, texting during the day, hanging out sporadically, studying–but everything had changed. There were clear lines now. They didn’t flirt, they didn’t touch in ways that meant anything more than friendship. It was as though they were back to where they started, but it was painfully different.

Paige had started hanging out more with Ice, the freshman who quickly became a source of amusement for her. Ice's humor was dry and a little corny, and Paige found herself genuinely laughing more than she had since her and Azzi ended things. If that’s what you would call it. But even with Ice’s company, there were still moments when she couldn’t help but think about Azzi. It wasn’t that she didn’t love their friendship now, but it didn’t fill the large space Azzi once occupied when they were clearly more than friends.

Ice leaned back in her chair, her expression one of pure disbelief. “That’s bullshit. I refuse to believe there was a point when you and Azzi didn’t like each other.”

Paige chuckled, shaking her head. “I swear, we couldn’t stand each other. Every little thing she did annoyed me and she hated me honestly.”

Ice raised an eyebrow, smirking. “And now look at you, a full-blown simp. How the tables have turned.”

Paige rolled her eyes, though a grin tugged at her lips. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“So how’d you two even get past that?” Ice asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity. “Like, how’d you go from ‘can’t stand each other’ to…” she gestured vaguely, “this?”

Paige’s laugh softened, and she shrugged. “The gym, mostly. We kinda connected over basketball first. That was the one thing we could agree on. At first, we only talked about basketball—nothing else. But once we built a decent foundation of not wanting to kill each other every two seconds, we started hanging out more. It just…happened from there.”

Ice nodded thoughtfully, then shrugged. “Why don’t you just do that again this time then?”

Paige gave her a look. “We don’t need to build a foundation, Ice. She’s still my best friend.”

“Righttt,” Ice said, dragging out the word with heavy sarcasm. “Your best friend that you’re in love with, and you haven’t seen in like five days.”

Paige rolled her eyes again, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “We text.”

Ice snorted. “That’s not the same, and you know it.”

Paige shrugged again, a small smile playing on her lips. “It’s just… a little hard to be around each other sometimes now.”

Ice narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Why?”

Paige didn’t answer, but the grin on her face grew wider, her expression practically glowing with unspoken thoughts.

Ice groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “Ew, dude. You’re disgusting.”

Paige just laughed, grabbing a basketball nearby and bouncing it lightly off Ice’s arm. “Shut up.”

But as the laughter faded, Paige’s expression softened, her smile dimming into something more thoughtful. “Honestly though, Azzi just needs some space from me to figure things out, and I’m trying to give her that.”

Ice tilted her head, her curiosity piqued. “Space for what?”

Paige hesitated, her fingers idly spinning the basketball in her lap. She glanced away briefly before answering, her tone careful and measured. “She has a lot of internal things to figure out before she can even think about being with me. I realized it a while ago but I don’t know if she has.”

Ice’s brow furrowed, but she nodded slowly. “That sounds… rough.”

“It is,” Paige admitted, her voice quieter now. “But she’s worth it. So I’m giving her what she needs.”

Ice studied her for a moment, then leaned back with a small smile. “Damn P, you really love her, huh?”

Paige didn’t even flinch. She met Ice’s gaze, a soft but unwavering certainty in her eyes. “Yeah, I do.”

Ice smirked, her teasing tone returning. “You’re still a simp, though.”

Paige groaned, chucking the basketball at her again, though the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Shut up, Ice.”

November 2022

The next month was much harder than Paige thought it would be. Between missing Azzi and being sidelined by her injury and not being able to start the season with the team, she felt like she was drowning most days. Basketball, her usual escape, was no longer an option. Instead, she found herself in the gym, not to work out but to just sit in the silence, wishing she could push her body for hours on end. But eventually she’d get too frustrated when all she could do was shoot a few flat footed shots and she'd just let herself cry in the empty gym until she didn’t have any more energy. Other times, she’d just sit in her car, staring ahead, trying to calm her thoughts. More than once, she ended up sick at the sight of the back seat—a painful reminder of what, and who, was missing.

Azzi wasn’t doing much better. She’d become a mirror of who Paige used to be, burying herself in the gym day and night, trying to outrun her thoughts. Paige was still there for her, though, which made Azzi feel like even more of an ass, having somebody as sweet as Paige, just waiting for her to get her shit together. When things were a little too hard and Azzi would come to her door with tear stained eyes in the middle of the night Paige always let her in, let her talk about whatever she needed to or just sleep. The first time it happened was a random Tuesday at 3am.

Azzi’s knocks were gentle and tentative at first but it was enough for Paige to stir, her mind still fuzzy from sleep as the knock came again, a little louder this time. She groggily threw off her blanket and shuffled to the door, blinking against the dim hallway light cascading from the bottom of the door.

When she opened it, Azzi stood there, her mascara streaked down her cheeks, her eyes red and swollen, as though the weight of the world had poured out of her. There were no words, no explanations, just a look that said everything, Paige didn’t ask, she just stepped aside, letting Azzi into the warmth of the room. Azzi’s shoulders were trembling, but she didn’t speak, her chest rising and falling in slow uneven breaths. Paige closed the door softly behind her, then walked back to her bed, sinking back into the mattress where Azzi now laid, holding one of Paige’s pillows close.

Paige reached over, draping her arm against Azzi’s torso as she pulled her closer but not quite cuddling her. Just enough to let Azzi know she wasn’t alone as Paige’s eyes fluttered shut drifting back to sleep.

After that night Paige couldn’t imagine not being there for Azzi, knowing what she was struggling with. But things weren’t the same. They didn’t text everyday anymore, and their hangouts had all but stopped after it became clear that they didn’t really know how to be just friends anymore. The space between them, once so easy to close, now felt like an endless stretch.

Azzi blamed herself for what happened between them. She was constantly fighting an internal battle that seemed like a losing game. One part of her knew exactly how she felt about Paige, knew she wanted the older girl more than anything. The other half was a constant pull against this thought process. The part of her brain that was telling her she wasn’t the type of person who takes risks like this, she didn’t gamble her future that she had worked so hard for. Constantly in her own ear telling herself she had every right to be scared.

Now, Paige sat alone in the empty gym, her legs stretched out in front of her, a basketball resting at her feet. She knew she couldn’t play much, just dribble around and shoot here and there, so she came here to think, to feel some semblance of peace. The quiet of the gym was comforting, even if it couldn’t heal what was broken, only Azzi could do that.

The sound of the door opening broke the silence. Paige glanced up to see Azzi standing there, her figure framed by the dim gym lights. Azzi paused, stuck in the doorway. The sight of Paige, lost in thought, felt all too familiar, stirring memories of another time they’d both hesitated to bridge the distance between them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, both caught in a whirlwind of emotions and memories. Paige chuckled softly at the irony, breaking the tension, and nudged the ball with her foot, sending it rolling toward Azzi.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small smile as she stepped inside, picking up the ball. She hesitated again, glancing at Paige, before making her way over. She sat down beside her but left enough space between them to keep the air light, uncertain. Neither of them spoke right away, the quiet wrapping around them like a truce.

Paige was the first to break the silence, her voice cutting through the stillness. “You played like shit last game.”

Azzi blinked, then burst out laughing, the unexpectedness of Paige’s comment catching her off guard. “Shit is an understatement,” she admitted, shaking her head.

Paige smirked, leaning back slightly. “What’d you come here to work on?”

Azzi shrugged, a noncommittal gesture. “Anything, I guess.”

Paige hummed thoughtfully as she got to her feet, grabbing the ball. Ice’s words from October echoing in her mind now. She spun the ball between her hands, glancing at Azzi. “Why you been taking so long to shoot lately?”

Azzi crossed her arms, tilting her head. “The passes are all over the place,” she said simply. “I got used to you hitting me in stride so it’s a big adjustment.”

Paige paused, nodding as she processed Azzi’s words. There was a quiet understanding in the air—an acknowledgment of how much they relied on each other, on and off the court.

By now, Azzi had stood up, her eyes tracking the ball as Paige passed it casually between her hands. Paige grinned. “Let’s work on it.”

Azzi raised a brow, confused. “Work on what?”

Paige laughed, her grin widening. “I’m about to throw you some of the worst passes of your life, and you’re gonna work on shooting without taking too much time to adjust the ball.”

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, but her feet were already carrying her toward the court.

Before they began, Azzi paused and looked at Paige. “I miss you,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of everything left unsaid between them.

Paige’s expression softened, and a small, genuine smile spread across her face. “I miss you too, Az,” she replied, her tone equally tender. Then, without missing a beat, she threw Azzi an intentionally terrible pass, the ball veering off to the side.

Azzi barely managed to catch it, quickly gathering herself for the shot, but the ball clanged off the rim.

Paige smirked. “Not bad. Now do it faster and try making it next time.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. They fell into an easy rhythm after that, Paige throwing increasingly awful passes, and Azzi working to shoot without hesitation. Laughter echoed through the gym when the passes were too bad to catch, blending with the rhythmic sound of the ball hitting the hardwood.

For the first time in a long time, it felt like they were back in sync—no words needed, just the game and each other.

The rhythm they had fallen into was effortless, the sound of Azzi’s playlist flowing through the speakers now as they worked on her shot. Laughter occasionally filled the gym, the tension from the past weeks melting away with every pass and shot.

That is, until the music cut off, replaced by the ring of an incoming call.

Azzi, mid-dribble, glanced toward her phone sitting on the floor. “Can you check who it is?” she asked Paige, who was closer.

Paige hesitated for a moment before walking over. She glanced at the screen, the name flashing boldly. Her jaw tightened ever so slightly, but it was enough for Azzi to notice. Paige cleared her throat. “Somebody named Elle,” she said, her tone a little too neutral.

Azzi didn’t miss the shift in Paige’s posture or the way her eyes flicked away from the phone. She didn’t need Paige to say anything; she could see the wheels turning in her head.

“It’s not what you think, Paige,” Azzi said, her voice firm but gentle.

Paige shook her head, brushing it off with a forced smile. “No, Azzi, you don’t have to explain—”

“Paige,” Azzi cut her off, stepping closer. “She’s my partner for a project. That’s it.”

Paige looked down, her fingers grazing the edge of her shirt. “It’s fine if it was something else you know,” she said softly, though the words felt hollow even to her.

“No, it isn’t,” Azzi said firmly, her voice leaving no room for doubt in Paige’s mind. “It isn’t fine because I don’t want anybody else. I only want you, Paige. I’ve told you that, and I mean it.”

Paige’s shoulders sagged slightly, guilt flashing across her face. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I know it’s not really my place.”

Azzi stepped even closer, her eyes searching Paige’s. “It is your place,” she said, her voice softer now. “So you don’t need to apologize.”

Paige glanced at her, caught in the sincerity of Azzi’s gaze. The tension in the air softened, the weight between them shifting back into something warm and steady.

“Okay,” Paige finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi nodded, giving her a small smile. “Good. Now come back over here—I’m not done getting used to these terrible passes.”

Paige chuckled despite herself, picking up the ball. And just like that, they found their rhythm again, though the words exchanged lingered, a quiet reassurance binding them closer.

After finishing up in the gym, both of them grabbed their things and headed out. Paige made her way toward her car, expecting Azzi to follow. But when she glanced over her shoulder, she noticed Azzi strolling casually along the sidewalk.

Paige frowned, stopping in her tracks. “What are you doing?” she called out.

Azzi glanced back with a small shrug. “I didn’t drive.”

Paige’s eyes widened in disbelief, a mix of offense and exasperation flashing across her face. “You thought I was going to let you walk?” she said, her tone incredulous.

Azzi chuckled but didn’t respond, her smile widening as Paige simply muttered, “Unbelievable.”

With a grin, Azzi turned and walked toward Paige’s car. Paige muttered under her breath the whole time, just loud enough for Azzi to hear. “She’s gotta be crazy. Can’t believe she thought I’d let her walk. Who does she think I am?”

When they reached the car, Paige yanked open the passenger door, motioning for Azzi to get in. Azzi stepped in with a laugh, and Paige shut the door with more force than necessary, her irritation over something so small almost comical.

By the time Paige slid into the driver’s seat, Azzi was grinning at her. “I miss how dramatic you are,” she teased, still laughing softly.

Paige shot her a glare as she started the car. “You give me a fucking headache Azzi,” she said, but there was no bite to her words.

When they arrived back at the dorms, Paige’s suite came up first. She slowed to a stop, slinging her bag over her shoulder and turning toward Azzi.

“Night,” Paige said, already halfway to the door.

Azzi nodded but didn’t keep walking. “Paige,” she called, her voice stopping Paige in her tracks.

Paige turned back, raising an eyebrow slightly, her curiosity piqued. “Yeah?”

Azzi hesitated for a moment, then smiled softly. “I’ve been thinking…can we maybe talk tomorrow?”

Paige blinked, her confusion evident, but she nodded. “Yeah… of course,” she said, her tone cautious.

Azzi’s smile widened a little , though she didn’t offer any explanation. “I’ll text you,” she said simply.

Paige gave her a small smile in return. “Okay. Goodnight, Az.”

“Goodnight, P,” Azzi replied, her voice quiet but warm as she turned to walk toward her own suite.

Paige lingered for a second, watching Azzi’s retreating figure, her mind swirling with questions. Finally, she shook her head and headed inside, her thoughts lingering on the way Azzi had looked at her just now.

…

The next day, around 1 PM, Paige’s phone buzzed with a text from Azzi.

💗: You hungry? Let’s grab some food

Paige smiled at the message, typing a quick reply.

P 💗: Yeah that works for me

It didn’t take long for Azzi to reply.

💗: We’re taking my car.

Paige frowned slightly, shooting back a quick question mark.

P 💗: ?

The response came almost immediately.

💗: I almost threw up in your car yesterday when Steve Lacy came on

Paige let out a loud laugh, immediately understanding what Azzi was referring to as she had her own struggles being in there sometimes. She shook her head, typing back with a smirk.

P 💗: That’s dramatic, even for you

Azzi’s reply was short but effective.

💗: Not taking any chances

Still chuckling, Paige grabbed her things, her mood lighter than it had been in days. Azzi always had a way of pulling her out of her head, even with something as simple as sending a few texts.

They sat down at a corner table, the comforting hum of the restaurant around them as they ate their Chipotle bowls. The familiar, easy chatter filled the space between them yesterday being what they needed to return to the natural rhythm of their friendship, the laughter, and the simple joy of each other's company.

But, as the conversation slowly died down, Azzi looked at Paige, her expression shifting slightly.

“I want us to start over,” Azzi said quietly, her voice soft but serious.

Paige blinked, furrowing her brow. “Start over? What do you mean?”

Azzi took a deep breath, clearly trying to find the right words. “I want us to try this again, but—” she paused, trying to make sure she found the right words. “I want us to do it the right way this time.”

Paige tilted her head, her confusion evident but her tone gentle with Azzi like always. “Azzi, what are you saying?”

Azzi’s gaze was unwavering as she leaned forward slightly, the space between them feeling more intimate. “I want us to date, Paige,” she said, her voice steady.

Paige’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment before a soft, teasing smile tugged at her lips. “So... you want to be my girlfriend now?”

Azzi hesitated, her fingers tapping gently against the edge of the table. “No…at least not yet,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “I want us to go on dates and test the waters. We did things the wrong way, and I want to fix it.”

Paige’s eyes softened as a slow smile began to form on her lips. She leaned forward slightly, clearly proud of Azzi. “Tell me more about it.”

Azzi smiled at the shift in Paige’s expression, the spark of curiosity now in her eyes. “We can go on dates,” Azzi continued, her voice steady as she outlined her plan she thought a lot about. “But I’m not going to let you kiss me until we have a few dates. And we’re not going to have sex for a while, or we’re going to at least try really hard not to. I want us to get to know each other as two people dating, not just best friends who happen to be doing this.”

Paige nodded, as she listened to her. She hadn’t expected Azzi to say something like this when she asked her to lunch today, but it made sense for her. It was a different approach, one that felt like it had the potential to be something more controlled. Something more grounded. Which is exactly what Azzi needed.

“So, where’s this coming from?” Paige asked, her voice low with curiosity but also a touch of tenderness. “I thought you were—”

Azzi cut her off, her gaze soft but unwavering. “Despite what you think, Paige,” she said quietly, “I’m in love with you. These past few weeks have done nothing but show me that. I’m still scared as hell, but I want to at least try.”

Paige swallowed, her heart beating a little faster at the sincerity in Azzi’s voice. She really hadn’t expected this, she expected Azzi to try to mend their friendship, try to get back to their usual routine of hanging out. But the more Paige thought about it she understood. Azzi was always so detailed and plan oriented. She always needed steps and checkpoints to ease her mind, to let her see the progress she was making.

“I’m not asking for anything,” Azzi continued, her voice a little shaky now that Paige hadn’t said much. “I just want to start fresh. I want us to really try.”

Paige leaned back slightly, her arms folded across her chest as she processed Azzi’s words. The weight of everything that had been said, everything that had been left unsaid, hung heavily in the air. She couldn’t help but hesitate, uncertainty creeping in despite the hope in her chest.

“How do I know you’re not just going to change your mind again?” Paige asked, her voice quiet. She wanted to believe Azzi, wanted to dive into this with her, but it was hard to shake that lingering fear of being hurt again.

Azzi didn’t flinch at the question. She just looked at Paige, with a calmness that her voice conveyed when she answered. “You don’t,” she said simply. “That’s the thing I had to get over. We don’t really know what’s going to happen. That’s been my fear this whole time. Not knowing. Not being in control of it. But we never know what’s going to happen at any point in life so.”

Paige’s gaze softened, and she nodded slowly, taking in what Azzi was saying. But Azzi wasn’t done, and she shifted slightly, her hands in her lap as she continued.

“I was talking to my mom the other day,” Azzi began, her voice quieter now, but still with a hint of vulnerability. “And she tried to make me laugh by asking who shat in my breakfast. But honestly, it just made me cry more than anything.”

Paige couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing exactly how Katie could be. “Figures,” she said with a soft smile, her heart lifting slightly at the mention of Azzi’s mom.

Azzi smiled too, but the smile was fleeting, and the seriousness returned quickly. “Yeah. But... I told her everything that’s been going on. All of it. How I feel about you. About us.” She paused, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt. “Some parts of the story shocked her, honestly. I thought she was going to yell at me, but she didn’t. She just listened.”

Paige’s eyes widened a little, a surprise settling in her chest. She hadn’t expected that. For Azzi to talk to her mom about them already? It was a huge step. It made her heart skip a little—an odd mix of pride and tenderness swelling inside her knowing Azzi had come out to her mom.

“How... how did it go?” Paige asked softly, unsure of how to phrase the question but needing to know. She could sense how much this conversation had meant to Azzi.

Azzi’s lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. “It was fine. Perfectly fine, actually,” she said, her voice steady now. “I thought it was going to be hard, but... she already kind of knew. I mean, she’s not blind. She said she could tell something was going on, especially with how much time you spend at our place whenever we’re on break. She thought it was pretty obvious.”

Paige blinked in surprise. She hadn’t thought Katie would pick up on that. “Really?”

Azzi nodded, her gaze soft but thoughtful. “Yeah. She’s always been good at reading me, even when I’m not saying anything. We were talking for a while after I explained everything... she said something that kinda struck a nerve.” Azzi’s voice lowered again, a little more humor to it. “She was explaining some stupid metaphor that I could never understand, and she said life is all about taking chances. Usually, the best ones—the ones that really matter—are the ones that scare us the most.”

Azzi’s eyes met Paige’s, and there was something raw, something real, in the way she looked at her. “And you scare the hell out of me, Paige,” she said quietly, her words filled with sincerity. “So that’s exactly why I can’t just let us pass by. I can’t keep living in the ‘what ifs.’ I’ve been too afraid, and I’m tired of being afraid.”

Finally, Paige let out a deep breath and reached across the table, her hand finding Azzi’s with a gentle squeeze. “I’m scared too,” Paige admitted softly.

Azzi’s eyes softened, and she squeezed Paige’s hand in return, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not asking for anything more than what I said. I just want to try, Paige. I want us to take it slow, to get to know each other again and see where it goes.”

Paige’s smile was small but genuine, her heart fluttering at the thought of what could be. “Okay. We’ll try,” she said, the words feeling right. “We’ll take it slow.”

Azzi’s smile mirrored hers, though it was still laced with vulnerability.

…

This is how, a few days later, Paige and Azzi were on their first date.

Azzi had initially tried to take the reins, attempting to plan every detail, but Paige quickly vetoed the idea, claiming she’d been waiting for months to make this happen. Azzi didn’t even try to argue with that logic.

Now, they were on their way to a mystery destination Paige refused to disclose, with music filling the car. The ride was easy, lighthearted, and full of laughter—until Azzi reached out and skipped another Steve Lacy song.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh, glancing over at her. “What? Are we never listening to the album again?”

Azzi shot her a glare but couldn’t entirely hide the amused glint in her eyes. “Not for a long time, we’re not,” she retorted firmly, her voice dripping with mocking distress.

Paige only chuckled as they pulled into a parking lot. Azzi’s curiosity grew as she turned her attention ahead, her brow furrowing slightly until recognition dawned. Her lips curved into a wide grin.

“You brought me to the fair?” she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

Paige glanced at her, her own smile soft but proud. “Yeah. Dinner’s boring,” she said simply, shrugging as if it was the most obvious decision in the world.

Azzi laughed, her eyes sparkling as she shook her head. “Of course you’d think that.”

Paige leaned back in her seat, looking out at the glowing lights of the fairground. “Come on, big head,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

…

Their date was going amazingly. Azzi, naturally, made Paige get her a funnel cake, ignoring Paige’s protests as she tore off a piece and practically forced it into Paige’s mouth. Paige grumbled but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips.

As the night went on, it became obvious that Paige was annoyingly good at everything. Every time Azzi swore Paige was about to lose a game, Paige proved her wrong. Neither of them wanted any of the prizes, so Paige made a habit of giving them away, handing stuffed animals and trinkets to random kids. The two of them would watch as the kids ran off, bouncing with excitement, leaving Azzi shaking her head at how effortlessly charming Paige could be with all ages.

Now, they were strolling through the fair, Paige’s arm casually draped over Azzi’s shoulder while Azzi leaned into her side, the warmth of the moment wrapping around them like the glowing lights of the fairground. But their quiet bubble burst when a small fan recognized Paige.

The fan approached cautiously, smiling nervously. “Hey, Paige, can I get a quick picture?”

Paige offered a warm smile. “Of course.”

After the fan snapped a picture with Paige, they hesitated before turning to Azzi. “Um, can I get one with you too Azzi?”

Azzi blinked in surprise before smiling and nodding. “Sure.”

Once the pictures were taken and the fan left with a cheerful wave, Paige’s attention shifted, her eyes catching sight of something in the distance. “Oh my god,” she muttered, her face lighting up as she grabbed Azzi’s hand.

“What?” Azzi asked, laughing at Paige’s sudden enthusiasm.

Paige didn’t answer, pulling her toward the basketball booth, where a massive Olaf stuffed animal sat on display. “It’s too good to be true,” she said, practically bouncing with excitement.

When they reached the booth, Paige handed the worker some tickets. He explained the rules, telling her she needed to make three out of five shots to win. Paige nodded and stepped up to the line drawn on the concrete.

But the worker held up a hand. “Nah, I know who you are. You gotta scoot back,” he said with a grin.

Paige laughed, stepping back as Azzi chuckled beside her. “Uh oh, the pressures on now,” Azzi teased.

Paige made the first four shots with ridiculous ease, defying the odds of the notoriously rigged carnival game. As she took her time with each shot a small crowd had gathered to watch her, but Paige was unfazed.

The worker let her take the fifth shot just for fun, even though she’d already won. Azzi, standing to the side, couldn’t resist teasing her. “You’re such a show-off,” she said, crossing her arms with a smirk.

Paige, knowing full well Azzi secretly loved it, grinned as she lined up the last shot. Without breaking eye contact with Azzi, she released the ball. The ball going in.

Azzi rolled her eyes, shaking her head with a laugh. “You’re irritating.”

Paige strolled over to the worker, who handed her the massive Olaf. Without hesitation, Paige turned and placed it into Azzi’s arms.

“This one’s yours,” Paige said with a confident grin.

Azzi looked down at the stuffed Olaf and then back at Paige, her expression softening. “You’re cute, you know that?”

Paige just smiled at her, as she felt a tap on her lower back seeing a little girl with a huge smile on her face.

After Paige and Azzi finished taking pictures with a few fans who had crowded around to watch Paige play the game, she and Azzi resumed walking through the fairground, their steps in sync. Paige’s arm once again draped casually over Azzi’s shoulder, the familiar, comforting ease of their connection returning.

They walked in silence for a few moments, but the air between them was full of understanding. They didn’t need to fill every moment with words—just the presence of each other was enough.

When they reached the car, Paige opened the door for Azzi like always. Azzi smiled, appreciating the gesture every time Paige does it, before sliding into the passenger seat. Paige walked around the front of the car, slipping into the driver’s side. She took a moment to glance over at Azzi, who was still holding the Olaf stuffie, her eyes soft but smiling.

Paige gave a small smirk as she started the engine, teasing, “You’re actually keeping it, huh?”

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully, adjusting the stuffed Olaf on her lap. “Yes, it’s Olaf. I’m keeping it.”

Paige laughed, shaking her head as she pulled out of the parking lot. The soft hum of the engine filled the silence between them as they drove off towards UConn, the glow of the fair behind them, leaving only the warmth of the moment to hold onto.

…

Long after Paige had “dropped” Azzi off following their first date, she found herself wandering into the gym. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but something about the court always drew her in. Spotting Azzi on the court dribbling, Paige couldn’t help but chuckle softly to herself.

Azzi noticed her almost immediately, stopping mid-dribble with a smile. “What are you doing here?”

Paige smirked, walking further onto the court. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Azzi shrugged as Paige closed the distance, casually swatting the ball out of her hand. Azzi laughed, shaking her head. “Ah, there’s my annoying best friend.”

Paige laughed along, saying. “Ahh, so I’m ‘best friend Paige’ right now, huh?”

Azzi nodded, still grinning.

Paige raised an eyebrow, tilting her head dramatically. “Okay then, tell me something. I heard you went on a date tonight.”

Azzi chuckled at Paige’s antics, her laughter light and easy. “I did.”

Paige dribbled the ball a few times, casually lining up a close-range shot. “How was it?”

Azzi tilted her head, pretending to consider it. “Ehh I was a little nervous at first, but I actually loved it.”

Paige glanced at her with a playful smirk. “Nervous? Why were you nervous?”

Azzi’s gaze softened as she shrugged, her voice quieter. “You know why.”

Paige arched an eyebrow, her voice teasing. “Humor me.”

Instead of answering directly, Azzi pivoted the conversation. “I went on some dates when we weren’t talking, like you suggested.”

Paige paused mid-dribble, her curiosity piqued. “You did?”

Azzi nodded, fidgeting with her hands. “Yeah... with girls.”

Paige hummed at this as she resumed dribbling, her voice casual but interested. “How were they?”

Azzi shrugged, her expression thoughtful. “They were okay. It’s not like I was trying to figure out feelings for them... more so to figure out myself.”

Paige nodded, her gaze softening with a soft smile. “And?”

Azzi smiled faintly, her tone more serious now. “They helped. The conversation with my mom I was telling you about? A whole lot easier after that.”

Paige paused her dribbling to smile at Azzi, her voice full of warmth. “I’m proud of you, Az.”

Azzi’s lips curled into a small, grateful smile, the sincerity of Paige’s words lingering in the air.

Azzi met Paige’s gaze, her tone playful yet sincere. “There’s a little more attention that comes with going on a date with Connecticut’s version of Jesus though.”

Paige burst out laughing, tossing the ball softly at Azzi, who caught it with a grin.

Azzi continued, her voice shifting to something more serious. “I was nervous at first because I knew people would recognize us—mostly you. It’s a lot of extra attention.”

Paige nodded, her grin slowly growing as she listened.

Azzi tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “What? Why are you smiling like that?”

Paige leaned casually against the wall, her grin turning a bit smug. “You know I picked the fair on purpose, right?”

Azzi’s brows furrowed. “No...”

Paige smirked, folding her arms. “It’s far enough from campus that we wouldn’t be recognized as much, but it’s also a Thursday, which means there weren’t going to be a lot of teenagers or people our age there. Just a bunch of kids with their parents or older people. People our age would usually go on Fridays or Saturdays.”

Azzi blinked, processing the thoughtfulness behind Paige’s planning.

Paige stepped closer, her voice softening. “I picked today because I knew anyone who approached us would either be a super-excited kid or an old-school basketball fan who wouldn’t care why it was just the two of us there together. I wanted it to be... easier for you.”

Azzi was stunned, her lips parting slightly as she stared at Paige. “You really thought that far ahead?”

Paige shrugged with a casual air, though her gaze was warm. “I know you, Az. I know how hard this is for you.”

Azzi laughed, her tone light again as she tried to hide how much Paige’s words meant to her. “If you knew what I was struggling with the whole time, why’d you let me make it seem like basketball was the only thing stopping me?”

Paige’s smile softened, her voice dropping just enough to convey her sincerity. “Because I needed to give you time. It’s not a realization someone else can process for you.”

The air between them shifted as Paige leaned casually against the wall, her height slightly towering over Azzi with the way they were standing. The space between them grew smaller without either of them noticing.

Azzi tilted her head up to look at Paige, her expression soft. “I miss your eyes,” she said quietly, almost as if the words slipped out without her permission.

Paige chuckled, the sound warm and familiar. “That’s always the first thing you say to me.” Her grin widened, teasing but fond.

Azzi didn’t bother denying it, her gaze unwavering. The weight of her words lingered in the air, pulling them closer in a way that had nothing to do with proximity.

After a moment, Azzi whispered, her tone playful but with a hint of nervousness, “I’m not letting you kiss me.”

Paige’s toothy grin grew, her confidence shining through. “That’s fine.” Her voice was low, carrying just enough to make Azzi’s breath hitch.

But Paige didn’t move away. She stayed close, her presence overwhelming yet comforting, as she just took in Azzi standing in front of her.

Azzi didn’t respond, her lips quirking up just slightly. Instead, she shook her head with a quiet laugh, looking away but refusing to step back.

Paige finally stepped back, breaking the tension with a soft laugh. The sound lingered in the air, as she picked up a basketball and started dribbling casually.

Azzi rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag muttering, “I’m leaving.”

Paige’s laugh grew louder as she called after her, “See you later, princess!”

Azzi didn’t stop or turn around, but a faint smile spread across her face. She lifted her hand and stuck her middle finger up in response, a playful gesture that made Paige laugh even harder as Azzi walked out of the gym.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Smarter

Smarter insight 1 insight 2

Leah Williamson x reader

Warnings: Cheating, talks of IVF, definitely could have been better so might edit it later but here we go

You’re crying again, you didn’t think you could cry anymore but the tears running down your puffy red cheeks say otherwise.

It’s heartbreaking the sight of you curled up on your bed, wrapped around Leah who hasn’t cried since coming home from the check up.

It’s another fail in your IVF journey, you’ve failed again, you have failed Leah again but still she’s here comforting you.

She lays there with you wrapped around her until she thinks you’ve finally fallen asleep and then she tries to slip out, away from you, from your constant tears that she can’t take anymore m, she needs to get out and the best thing she can think to do is to go for a run.

Only you stir “Le, where-where are you going.” Leah freezes the floorboards creeking slightly “I-i just I need to go clear my head it’s-I just need to go for a run.” You want to ask her to come back to bed to stay with you, to tell her you will get through this together, that it’s better if you do but that’s selfish and you have been so, so selfish recently. “Ok.” You say quietly and with that small nod of approval from you Leah’s gone.

Leah doesn’t know how long she’s been running for when she first spots HER and for the first time all day her mind is void of you. SHES gorgeous, absolutely stunning and she’s running right towards her.

Leah doesn’t know what comes over her as she does a u turn to chase after the gorgeous girl that’s just smiled her but she finds herself running beside her, her eyes flicking between her and the path before SHE stops.

“Hi.” Leah stops her hands on her hips sucking in air “I’m sorry I just-I saw you and I thought wow and, and.” SHE laughs and before Leah knows it’s they are sat in the park cafe chatting and laughing, Leah doesn’t know what time it is and frankly she doesn’t care this is the first time in weeks she’s laughed and not had to deal with a crying wife.

Everything is so nice and easy until SHE questions why Leah was running g so fast. “I-I’m going through something, my-my wife and I are going through something.” SHE reaches over grabbing Leah’s hand stroking it softly “it’s ok I’m sure it will workout.” Leah shakes her head “I-I don’t know if it will, my wife she-she’s in the middle of IVF and it’s not working-it never seems to work.” SHE softens “That’s not your fault, you can’t do anything about it.” Leah shakes her head “But am I not an asshole for just leaving her-I mean she’s at home crying and I-I’m here.”

SHE shakes her head “You need comfort too, she’s actually being selfish not comforting you as well, I mean it’s hard for you too.”

The conversation continues and SHE continues to “comfort” Leah telling her it’s going to be ok, their hands don’t part even after the Cafe owner throws them out.

“My house is just across the street.” It’s all Leah needs to hear before she’s sitting at the kitchen another tea in hand as SHE flits around content on cooking.

Leah doesn’t know how or when it happened maybe after SHE brought a spoon to her lips begging her to try the sauce but suddenly they are kissing, and then suddenly Leah is pushing HER through the bedroom door.

Leah knows this is wrong as she strips, as she twists off her wedding band and throws it towards her cloths but SHE’S gorgeous, the voice the tiny small voice screams in the back of her mind as they push forward, it scream about you, how you are still there, still at home crying, but SHE’S not SHE’S not crying not seeking comfort and draining Leah’s every emotion, no SHE’S soft and her lips are plump and her breast are perfect and SHE’S not crying and begging to be held, SHE’S not begging to be told it’s going to be ok as another round of IVF fails.

SHE’S gorgeous and she’s all Leah can think about on the drive home, right until the moment she walks through the door and your body crashes into hers, as you wrap yourself around her whispering into her chest how much you missed her.

It should never of happened but it did, it should be a one time mistake but it wasn’t, she should never have left you but she did and now she’s lost you.

[cherrysurf]

winning you back pt.2

-where haikyu boys try to win back you their ex gf

-this is lwk depressing but maybe it’s bc of the music im listening to rn LMAO

contains; atsumu, tsukishima, kita, sakusa, oikawa, iwaizumi

pt.1 of winning you back here!

atsumu; He still very much has all your pictures on his feed that he never deleted and never will you had to go minimal contact with him because he kept texting you every other day to try to get back together, he still loves you and thinks your gonna be his wife and that this is just a rough patch, so when you post that you’re going to be volunteering at osamu’s restaurant for a charity that osamu is doing for young kids to get into volleyball he takes it upon himself to cancel his practice for that day and go and join you two and begged and forced osamu to make you too work together so he can talk to you, and those dam miya’s being so good and weaseling there way back into life’s, it worked. You two are now talking again. You told him that you wanted to take this slow, but atsumu later that week posted a soft launch of you two at dinner.

tsukishima; tsukishima acts like he’s so nonchalant but no one’s seen him cry over how bad it’s killing him that you can fully ignore him when he’s usually the one doing that. He hates how bad he fucked up so he decided to make a plan to win you back, what does that mean he had to do? work at the same cat cafe as you, at first you weren’t on the same shifts and maybe hanging out with cats was a plus but getting crushed on by other girls wasn’t. Anyways as soon and he saw you two were on the same shift he couldn’t be more happy, it was a slow shift so he used this time to catch up and be very soft and respectful he saw you weren’t fighting back so he was thinking that was a step forward, until later on when a girl came by to order a drink and was clearly flirting with him so tsukishima ignored her, as she said “can i get your number?” you turned to see what he would do all he said was “no i have a girlfriend she’s right there actually, i don’t what gave you the confidence to think you could ask me” he said laughing which left the girl embarrassed and you flustered.

kita; Kita is forever my yearning man. He writes letters for you and sends them, you kept them all because you still didn’t get over him. He thought it was the right choice to let you go but he couldn’t have been more wrong, and I fear kita is the type to have a romantic scene like the movies. So what? anyways he comes by your hour IN THE POURING RAIN. to apologize “i’m sorry im selfish for breaking up with you yn, i just clean up well i forget myself” OOOO YOU END UP SOBBING BC WHO WOULDN'T?! anyways safe to say you kissed in the rain and he won you back

sakusa; stubborn ass ho. He was shocked when you broke things off even more when you actually stood on business, sakusa was one to keep his composure and not crashout but he couldn’t understand why he was so affected by the breakup it’s like his whole life flipped upside down. He even stopped keeping up with himself for a bit which was totally out of the norm. So when you saw him at your apartment in the lates of the night messy hair, wrinkles in his clothes looking dead you knew something was wrong, he almost felt like he could breathe again once you embraced him, disgusting and all and he didn’t let go since and tried to change for the better

oikawa; He acted happy at first like it didn’t matter because he thought you needed him more than he needed you. Oh how wrong he was, the fan girls didn’t support him the way you did, didn’t cheer for him the way you did, no one could cook as good as you, no one could get him out his depression like you could, so one night around 4am he gave you a call wanting to quit volleyball because he felt like he couldn’t do anymore without you there, which broke your heart because you saw how bad he was struggling without you there and that’s when he finally admits “I needed you more than you needed me. Come back yn, i’m sorry” and you did because you needed him just as much as he needed you.

iwaizumi; it was mutual breakup but not really he just did whatever he could to make you happy he hated fighting with you, he never deleted your pictures, he still kept all your stuff that you didn’t take at his house, he was still loyal even if you weren’t together, He blamed himself for not fighting back. he became very very career oriented that’s when he saw you at a job interview, you had just finished interviewing for the place he works at as a sports medical assistant. you weren’t aware he was working there so he stopped you and asked to get lunch since you were leaving and he was on his lunch break. That's where he apologized for not doing more and still thought about you and asked for a redo and would do anything for a second chance, and you agreed because you felt the same.

tags; @solarvrse (for the atsumu one) @sahrii (for the iwaizumi one)

[repostedpoliticalarts]

Some things to consider:

Our doctor started us on the LOWEST dose possible: .25mg and we adjusted to the meds. This is NOT medically induced bulemia, and if it is the dosage should definitely be adjusted. There was some nausea but it was easily manageable with some ginger chews. I experienced no noticeable effects at this dose whatsoever and I know this because I did regular weigh-ins and kelt a journal. Other than occasional nausea my eating habits and appetite remained the same.

We decided to increase to .5mg/week after a month and i started to see some very slow progress. Our electronic scale that measures not only weight but body composition (fat%, muscle, water, bone) confirmed that my losses this year have all been primarily fat stores. This has been correlated with my clothes fitting better and my being able to return to some of my older clothes I didn’t want to throw out.

At .5 i noticed that while i still had a good appetite the one major thing that changed was that my psychological guilt over “wasting food” vanished. I grew up pretty financially limited and wasting food is a guilt i carry around to this day. This means I’ll eat leftovers before they go bad because I can’t stand the thought of food being wasted. What surprised me is that I started being able to leave food on my plate, even if just scraps, and throw it away without a trace of guilt. Which was surprising because I assumed that was entirely about upbringing and psychology, but apparently there is a physical link there.

My wife reported that the “food noise” in her head, just thinking about food, planning meals, feeling the push/pull of temptation evaporated. Which obviously helped her mental state.

Eventually I moved up to 1mg/week and was seeing the most progress not in just my appearance but in my ability to move and feel comfortable in various positions without feeling my weight literally restricting what I could do. I was only on that for two months when insurance sent a letter saying they would only cover the .5 pen and only till Dec 31, 2025. So I had to pull back. I haven’t lost an ounce since but have maintained at that level.

I’m concerned about gaining back what I lost when my supply runs out. But my doctor says that data shows some regain but almost no one going back to baseline weight. I’ve heard some people quit and get crazy binging cravings, so my plan is to ration out what I have left and slowly wean off the injections at lower and lower doses. Slow on, slow off. So that it’s not a shock to my system.

Again, my doctor would like me to still be on it, and I CAN still technically take it. But the smallest dose I’ve had, which does nothing for me starts at $700 a month. This is literally just making ozempic a luxury drug for rich people.

Also, my wife doesn’t have diabetes but she is at an extremely high risk of developing it because of her genetics and family history, it killed her father while she was still in college. So this drug is being DENIED to her, even though it could help PREVENT her from DEVELOPING diabetes. So IF she gets type II diabetes she can have the drug, but NOT before, even though it can help her.

Asinine.

Fuck insurance companies. People’s healthcare should be free (for one) and their choices of what they need, what is necessary, what is helpful, should be entirely between them and their doctors.

I have been debating sharing this for some time, but with the new year weight loss ads amping up, I feel it's something I have to say. I'm worried for people's health.

Unless you've been living under a rock, you probably already know about people taking the diabetic drug ozempic for weight loss. You've probably heard the debates about the ethics of taking needed drugs away from diabetes patients and maybe even the side effect of "ozempic face." However, there is one side effect of taking these drugs that, in my opinion, people are not being warned about.

If you carefully pay attention to the television ads, you will hear them mention "pancreatitis" as a possible side effect. If you're like me a decade ago, that word probably means nothing to you. Let me warn you, however, it is no minor thing. My husband suffered from chronic pancreatitis for five agonizing years. The pain is beyond comprehension. Doctors who specialize in the pancreas describe it as the worst pain a human can endure. There is no actual cure. Little is understood about the disease, so treatment is difficult. Doctors who understand it are few and far between. It took my husband forever to get diagnosed. He went through multiple surgeries and procedures, but nothing worked. He had to go on an extremely limiting diet. If he varied from it in any way, he would have an attack. The only way to recover from an attack was to not eat at all for days, then slowly add in broth and jello. Did he lose weight? Yes. As a matter of fact, one day he stepped out of the shower, and I burst into tears at the sight of him. He was skin and bones - I could count every rib. Was it worth it to be thin? If you even ask that question, I'm concerned for your mental health.

They couldn't figure out exactly why my husband got pancreatitis. At that time, they thought only alcoholics and drug addicts got pancreatitis. This made it difficult to get compassionate medical care, unfortunately. Now they know that prescription medication (particularly diabetic medication) and high cholesterol can also cause it. Then there is another group - where they just don't know. But you better believe I would hesitate to take any medication that could cause pancreatitis. I would weigh my options carefully to assess if it was worth the risk. In my opinion, weight loss is not worth that risk.

My concern has been heightened seeing the Hers commercials for these drugs (under different names, but rest assured, it is the same thing). These commercials brag that you can get these drugs from Hers with just a simple virtual call, no questions asked. I wonder if people are fully aware of the risks of these drugs. I also wonder if we even know all of the risks yet. I also fear that the culture around these drugs could develop into an us vs. them mentality. That if it's so easy to be thin, why wouldn't you be? And some are getting dangerously thin on these drugs.

I know some diabetics who are on these drugs, and necessarily so. They tell me that it causes nausea when they eat. That's why they don't eat much. Again, that doesn't sound like a pleasant way to live. If you need it to regulate your blood sugar, that's one thing. But if you don't? Why would you do this to yourself?

My husband is now healed of pancreatitis. It was a miracle. You may not believe in that sort of thing, but I'm telling you, there is no other explanation. We had exhausted every medical solution, then the pandemic hit. We were concerned because hospitals were only taking life or death cases. What if he had a bad attack and needed an iv of pain meds? What would we do? Weeks passed - no pain. A month passed - no pain. Six weeks passed - no pain. He decided to grill a steak - something he hadn't been able to even take a nibble of in 5 years. I watched him take a bite, holding my breath. Nothing. He ate the whole thing. No pain. Five years later, still no pain. The doctors can't explain it, either.

So our story has a happy ending. Not everyone else's does. I hope people take the time to read this. If you do, please, please share it. I don't want anyone suffering needlessly.

[crimsonmochi]

Prompt. Full-heartedly believe Choso is the goodest most pathetic boy for his partner ever. And not just when it comes to sex, just everything. He just loves you so much :( I can't prove it, but I can write about it. Smut included.

Choso, who just doesn't know what he would do if you weren't there. I mean, this boy gets lost so easily because of how much he wanders, he has to call you because he gets upset and has zero sense of direction.

"I don't know how to get home."

"Why did you leave?"

"I saw a kitty and I wanted to pet it."

Choso, who pouts, and he pouts a lot. He pouts when he doesn't understand something you're explaining, he pouts when he wants something, and he pouts when he doesn't get what he wants. Will act like you killed his whole family if you don't give him kisses right now.

Choso, who needs to be touching you at all times in some way, or he panics and thinks you don't love him anymore. The first time you gently push his hand away from your waist in public due to being overstimulated at the mall, he nearly has a breakdown going over every single thing he's said and done in the past week.

He told Yuji about it the next day, explaining that he will literally end his life if you leave him and telling him he had to help.

"Just make some sort of big gesture. You should be fine."

Choso decorated your bed with some flower petals the next day, found out he was allergic to pollen, and was sneezing throughout his apology. Apology you didn't know was for, but you forgave him regardless, nursing him back to health in your arms until he didn't have the sniffles from the pollen anymore.

Choso who was a virgin when you met him and remained one for a good part of your relationship, entirely confused when his dick would get hard when you held his hand? Love, why does it do that? It hurts. He couldn't look you in the eye for a bit after you had explained it, embarrassed and flustered.

Choso had to be shown everything bit by bit. He complained when you showed him porn because it's not you, so why would I watch it. Makes no sense.

Choso who, after that session, tried to masturbate, but it wasn't working. He was clumsy with his movements, too needy and eager, and didn't even know what he was supposed to be chasing. Until he thought about you smiling at a joke he made earlier, and before he knew it, he came all over your bedsheets.

Choso tried to hide what happened from you but couldn't lie when you asked why he was hauling your bedsheets into the washing machine on a weekday, meekly trying to put together the situation with words. After explaining, he asked if he needed to go see a doctor.

"That's normal, babe."

"Are you sure? Felt like I got possessed for a moment, maybe we have a ghost."

He couldn't understand why you laughed at that but was thankful for the reassurance that he wasn't dying.

Choso, who begged you to take his virginity a month later, whining about the wet dreams he had been having about you, confused about what it meant, but it had to mean something.

Choso spent an hour just feeling and looking at your body, unsure where to place his hands, where you liked being touched, where you didn't. He spent so much time asking questions, wanting to please and be good for you, that he only remembered how desperate he was when you finally took control, something blooming in his stomach as you gave him orders.

Choso, who discovered he cums fast and from almost nothing. He shuddered when you took his length in your hand, his back arching off the mattress as a soft whimper escaped his lips, shooting ropes of cum onto his stomach.

Choso, who discovered that going down on you was his favourite thing to do of all time. For a week straight, that's all he wanted to do; he wouldn't understand why you couldn't just stay under him all the time as he feasted. Has orgasms from it, too, completely untouched, just whining and moaning between your legs like a kicked puppy.

Choso, who pouts at you when you don't let him give you head.

Choso, who loves to be called a good boy, lives for it. In and out of the bedroom, it's like you saying "I love you" to him. Honestly has a bad day if you don't say it.

He is your good boy, and you will call him that.

Choso, who refuses to brat out because how can he be your good boy if he acts up. Days are filled with "yes ma'am," "no ma'am," and "right away." If anyone were to witness, they'd think you're running a tight ship military, but it's just your handsome man on his best behaviour as always.

Choso, who never argues. Not because of anything in particular; he's just not wired that way. He listens too well, is in tune with your emotions and his, and adapts fast. He just wants to make your life easier, and if you want the trash taken out at 8:31 instead of 8:30, then he'll be damned if he doesn't make that happen.

Choso, whose personal therapy is laying his head in your lap while you braid a strand or two. He loves the gentle tug on his scalp, loves your fingers in his hair, and loves to look up at you and see how focused you are.

Choso, who needs to feel helpful and wants you to depend on him the same way he depends on you, sometimes goes out of his way to make himself feel indispensable because he likes how it makes him feel. Once stole your schedule only to memorize it and recite it by heart when you mysteriously couldn't find it, the biggest smile on his face when you thanked him.

Choso, who could make out with you for hours on end just to feel your fingers playing with his baby hairs once. Nearly gets off on it.

Choso, who likes to shower with you only for the soap and shampoo part. He likes to be taken care of, your hands on his body as you lather him up properly, his eyes closed and his mind sleepy. Double points if you're taking a bath instead.

Choso, who lays in bed every night with you and tells you he loves you, why, for what traits, for what you give him and what you make of him.

Choso, who could write a whole essay about you, would never be done, could never run out of things to say.

Choso, who just loves you so much, needs you forever, no matter what.

[gpcwsl]

Warnings: kissing?

Lia Wälti x Reader:

Title: A Game Of Hearts

MasterList

The café was bright and bustling, the hum of conversation blending with the whirr of an espresso machine. You sat across from Alessia and Kyra, your coffee cooling in front of you, untouched. Alessia’s laughter rang out as Kyra leaned in to whisper something to her, their private little bubble shutting you out again.

You shouldn’t feel bitter. Alessia was your best friend, and you were thrilled that she had found someone who made her so happy. But being the perpetual third wheel had a way of gnawing at your confidence.

“[Y/N],” Alessia said suddenly, pulling you from your thoughts. “You’ve been quiet. You okay?”

You forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Kyra arched an eyebrow, her easygoing demeanor tinged with concern. “You sure? You’ve been working a lot lately.”

You shrugged. “Work’s work. Can’t exactly slack off, can I?”

Alessia exchanged a glance with Kyra, and you knew what was coming—a well-meaning but ultimately unhelpful attempt to dig deeper. You quickly deflected.

“So, how’s training going?” you asked, steering the conversation back to them.

Kyra launched into a story about their last scrimmage, Alessia chiming in with her usual enthusiasm. You nodded along, but their words blurred in your mind. You stirred your coffee absently, watching the foam dissolve into the liquid.

By the time you left the café, your chest felt heavy.

That evening, your phone buzzed with a text from Alessia.

Alessia: Hey, some of the team is going out tomorrow night. You should come!

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. The thought of spending another night feeling out of place wasn’t exactly appealing.

You: I don’t know… I’ll probably just stay in.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Alessia: Nope. You’re coming. Non-negotiable.

You sighed. Alessia had a way of dragging you out of your comfort zone, and you didn’t have the energy to argue.

You: Fine. What time?

Alessia: 7. Dress cute.

The bar was already packed when you arrived. Music thumped through the speakers, the bass vibrating in your chest. You spotted the team near the back, crowded around a long table.

“There you are!” Alessia called, waving you over.

You slid into the booth beside her, the faint smell of her perfume a comforting reminder of home. The rest of the team greeted you warmly, their energy infectious. But as the night wore on, you found yourself retreating into your shell.

It wasn’t intentional; you just didn’t know how to fit into the whirlwind of inside jokes and playful banter. Alessia and Kyra were glued to each other, and the others were too absorbed in their own conversations to notice your quiet withdrawal.

Until Lia Wälti appeared.

“You look like you could use some air,” she said, her voice cutting through the noise like a soft breeze.

You glanced up, surprised. She was standing beside you, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos around you.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked with a weak laugh.

She smiled, tilting her head toward the door. “Come on.”

Outside, the air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain. The quiet was a welcome relief from the bar’s overwhelming noise.

“Thanks,” you said, shoving your hands into your pockets. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

Lia leaned against the wall, her dark eyes studying you. “You seemed a little… out of place in there.”

You shrugged. “I guess I’m not really the ‘night out’ type.”

“Neither am I,” she admitted. “But sometimes it’s good to step out of your comfort zone.”

You nodded, unsure how to respond. There was something about Lia—her presence was steady, grounding. She didn’t push for conversation, letting the silence settle comfortably between you.

When you returned to the table, something had shifted. Lia stayed close, occasionally drawing you into the group’s conversations, and for the first time that night, you felt like you belonged.

The following weeks were a blur of small moments. Lia would invite you to join her for lunch after training or sit with you during team gatherings, her quiet company becoming a constant in your life.

One afternoon, after a particularly exhausting training session, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the field, staring at the empty stands.

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Lia approaching, a bottle of water in her hand. She sat beside you, close enough that her shoulder brushed yours.

“Rough day?” she asked, offering you the water.

“Something like that,” you muttered, taking a sip.

Lia didn’t press, her gaze fixed on the horizon. After a long pause, she said, “You don’t have to carry everything on your own, you know.”

Her words caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”

She turned to face you, her expression soft but serious. “I mean, you have people who care about you. Let them in.”

You swallowed hard, her words striking a chord you hadn’t expected. “It’s not that simple.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “But it’s worth it.”

For the first time in a long time, you felt the walls around your heart begin to crack.

Lia’s idea of a break was a quiet afternoon at a park just outside the city. The two of you strolled along a winding path, the air filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of bees.

“This place is beautiful,” you said, your voice hushed as if speaking too loudly would disrupt the tranquility.

“It’s my favorite spot,” Lia admitted. “Whenever I need to clear my head, I come here.”

You walked in silence for a while, the only sound the crunch of gravel beneath your feet. Eventually, you reached a small pond, the water shimmering in the sunlight.

Lia sat on the grass, patting the spot beside her. You joined her, the warmth of the sun on your skin a stark contrast to the nervous flutter in your chest.

“Thank you,” you said after a while.

“For what?” she asked, turning to look at you.

“For this. For… everything.”

Her dark eyes searched yours, her expression unreadable. “You don’t have to thank me, [Y/N]. I’m happy you’re here.”

The air between you felt charged, as if something unspoken was lingering just out of reach. But neither of you acted on it, letting the moment pass.

The team’s weekend retreat was supposed to be a bonding experience, but for you, it was a chance to spend more time with Lia. Sharing a cabin with her was both thrilling and terrifying, every small interaction sending your heart racing.

One night, while the others gathered around a campfire, you stayed behind with Lia. The cabin was quiet, the only light coming from the crackling fireplace.

“I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for months,” you admitted, staring into the flames.

“Why?” Lia asked, her voice gentle.

“Because… I don’t know how to let go. How to stop feeling like I’m not enough.”

She reached out, her hand covering yours. The warmth of her touch sent a shiver through you.

“You are enough, [Y/N],” she said softly. “More than enough.”

You looked at her, your heart pounding. The words were on the tip of your tongue, but fear held you back. Instead, you squeezed her hand, hoping she understood what you couldn’t say.

It happened on a quiet afternoon at Lia’s apartment. You sat across from her, watching her laugh at something you said, and suddenly, you couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Lia,” you said, your voice trembling.

She looked up, her smile fading as she saw the seriousness in your expression.

“I… I think I’m falling for you,” you admitted, your heart hammering in your chest.

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Then she reached across the table, taking your hand in hers.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” she said softly.

Relief flooded through you, and when she leaned in to kiss you, it felt like the world finally made sense.

The transition from friends to something more was seamless. Lia was patient and kind, her love quiet but unwavering. Alessia and Kyra teased you endlessly, but their support was a constant reminder of the family you’d found.

As you stood on the sidelines during a match, watching Lia lead the team with her steady presence, you couldn’t help but smile.

You weren’t just a third wheel anymore. You were part of something bigger—something beautiful.

And for the first time, you felt whole.

[hazzashouse]

Through the Darkness (Harry Styles one shot)

This topic is incredibly important to me. If you or someone you know is struggling with depression, please know you don’t have to go through it alone. Reach out to someone you trust—a friend, a family member, or a professional. You are not alone, and you are loved. There is strength in asking for support, and there are people who want to be there for you. You are never alone.

Pairing: Harry Styles x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Triggers: Depression, anxiety, emotional distress, mentions of isolation, self-doubt, and heavy themes of mental health struggles. Please read with care.

The world outside your apartment window was cold and colorless, mirroring the ache in your chest. Days blurred into nights, the sun rising and setting without your notice. It had been weeks since you last stepped outside for more than a grocery run. Even then, the strain of smiling at the cashier left you drained for days.

The depression you thought you’d left behind had returned, a familiar weight pressing against your chest, heavy and relentless. It was worse this time because it felt like failure. You’d been doing so well—hadn’t you? Harry had told you how proud he was. Your friends had said you seemed lighter. And now, here you were again, feeling like a burden to everyone you loved.

Harry was away on tour, as he always was this time of year. The texts and calls were there, of course. But you hadn’t told him. You couldn’t. His life was busy, full of flashing lights and cheering crowds, and you couldn’t bear to drag him into the shadows with you. He didn’t need that—not when he was living his dream.

So you suffered in silence, telling yourself you’d find your way out. Except, you didn’t.

Your best friend, Emily, was the first to notice. She’d stopped by unexpectedly, armed with a smile and coffee. You hadn’t answered her texts for days, and she’d decided to check in. When you opened the door, she froze, her face dropping.

“Hey…” she said softly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “What’s going on, babe?”

You didn’t have the energy to lie.

Emily took one look at the unwashed dishes, the unopened curtains, and the dark circles under your eyes and immediately understood. She’d seen this before.

“Oh, love,” she murmured, pulling you into a hug. The warmth of her arms broke something inside you, and the tears you’d been holding back spilled over.

Emily didn’t leave that night. She made you tea, coaxed you into eating something, and stayed until you fell asleep. The next morning, she tried to talk to you about reaching out to Harry.

“He’ll want to know,” she said gently. “He loves you. You know he’d drop everything.”

But you shook your head. “I don’t want to ruin his tour. He’s happy.”

Emily sighed but didn’t push. Instead, when you weren’t looking, she sent Harry a message herself:

Hey, I know you’re busy, but she’s struggling again. She didn’t want me to tell you, but I think you should know. Call me when you can.

Harry didn’t see the text until hours later. His phone had been in the dressing room while he performed to a sold-out crowd. When the show ended and he finally unlocked it, Emily’s message was waiting.

He read it twice before his heart sank.

————————

Harry’s decision to leave wasn’t even a question. His team tried to reason with him, suggesting he finish the next two shows before taking a break, but he shook his head.

“No,” he said firmly. “She needs me. She’s more important than any of this.”

————————

The sound of a key in the lock woke you from a restless sleep. You sat up, your heart pounding as the door creaked open. When Harry’s familiar figure appeared, relief and guilt warred inside you.

“Harry?” Your voice cracked.

He didn’t say anything at first, just crossed the room in a few strides and pulled you into his arms. His chest rose and fell against yours, and you realized he was trembling.

“I’m here, love,” he whispered into your hair. “I’m here.”

You didn’t mean to cry, but his presence—his warmth, his steady heartbeat—was the comfort you hadn’t known you needed.

Harry didn’t try to fix you. He knew better than that. Instead, he stayed close, quietly reminding you of his love in the small ways that mattered most.

He opened the curtains one morning and sat with you on the couch, not saying a word as you watched the sunlight pour in.

He ran a bath for you, adding your favorite lavender oil, and sat outside the door in case you needed him.

He cooked meals you didn’t have the energy to eat but never made you feel guilty for it.

On the hardest days, when leaving the bed felt impossible, he stayed with you, holding your hand as if anchoring you to the world.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he told you one night, his voice steady. “Whatever you need, whenever you need it—I’m here.”

Slowly, the darkness began to lift. Harry’s patience, his unwavering support, created space for you to breathe again. He reminded you of the things you loved—the music you used to listen to, the books you hadn’t touched in months, the way your laughter used to fill the room.

It wasn’t easy, and there were setbacks. But with Harry by your side, you began to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d be okay.

One afternoon, as you sat together on the couch, you looked at him and whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, his green eyes soft.

“For loving me. For staying.”

Harry smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Always.”

And in that moment, you knew it was true.

————————

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