#like I was 12 and I know that and I know I need to give myself grace for that

[femchef]

Some really cool ongoing research and clinical studies are being done about the affects of what have been recently termed ‘ultra-processed’ foods have on bodies - that sounds like a “duh” project but!!! It’s really awesome because the research is attempting to narrow down the whys and whats and it’s been yielding some cool results????

Short notes:

- researchers are attempting to nail down categories of processed food - I’m not sold on the categories yet, but nothing is 100% and I would consider this still early stage research, though ground breaking

- processed food isn’t necessarily a bad thing, and actually there are quite a few processed foods that aren’t harmful to you, which is good, because people deserve ease of access to food

- ‘ultra-processed’ is a really new term - currently this category encompasses foods that meet a very specific criteria: example, whole-food products which have been broken down into individual nutritive or non-nutritive components and re-configured into another product with the addition of other additives used in place of now-missing natural components - the difference between whole fat yogurt and low-fat yogurt is a good example (full fat yogurt requires less ingredients - literally just milk and a bacterial agent to activate the coagulative properties of lactic acid on already existing proteins; skim or low fat yogurt requires a few additional gelling, preservation and setting agents because in removing the fat you remove a lot of the protein so you have to mimic the natural process with something else; also if you have an instant pot use it to make yogurt it’s fun and easy and tastes good).

- (also please watch out for health influencers and companies throwing around the new term ‘ultra-processed’ and don’t let them make it confusing you know they’re gonna run with that one tbh)

- CARBS ARE GOOD FOR YOU. YOU NEED THEM. That is very important ok don’t stop giving yourself carbs

- on that note - FATS ARE GOOD FOR YOU. YOU NEED THEM. That is ALSO important and something you should not stop eating.

- so the really cool point: research is showing that THE LITERAL PROCESSES we use to manufacture cheap food products are causing issues - because they are too calorie dense!! Example: dehydrating foods concentrates calories and nutrients and makes those foods super calorie-rich (think protein bars before a marathon); the reason for this isn’t necessarily bad either - we have foods like this because food researches and nutritionists have spent decades trying to pack as much nutrition into inexpensive food as possible to ostensibly keep things like pellagra from happening. There are other affects manufacturing has in foods but this point is the salient one

- in terrible, unscientific terms, you could think of it as something like we’ve concentrated the power of our food a little too much and need to pull back - dial it down a bit, as it were.

- additionally, a loaf of sourdough from your local bakery made in house is healthy, as a opposed to a loaf of wonder bread at the grocery store or the frozen shipped in bread at the Panera - both of which have shelf-stable additives, but! That also doesn’t mean that those products are wholly bad - again, see point above about how not all processed foods are bad.

- another interesting part of the research, though to me it reads a bit more speculatively at the moment, is that the hyper-intense pairings of fat -salt-sugar in foods is something that our bodies get super excited about and want to eat more of, because those combinations so rarely occur naturally. I want to see more on that point over the years, but it does tie back to our food being a bit too concentrated in all points thing above.

- in related but slightly separate research we are finding that starch foods - potatoes, rice, etc - if made about 12 hours ahead and chilled then reheated have more accessible nutrients and healthy carbohydrates and also don’t hit your body’s sugar levels negatively.

All that to say that OP is right and should say it.

There’s a nice, condensed article in The New Yorker this week if you want to read a little more and get the names of the researchers - don’t let the title scare you off, it’s written like clickbait on purpose.

‘bread is bad for you’ ‘rice is bad for you’ sorry im not subscribing to the idea that staple grains that have been integral to cultures for centuries are evil. i love you carbs

[steveseddie]

looking for something dumb to do

written for @steddiebingo 12 days of christmas mini event | prompt: proposal | rating: t | wc: 2,1k | tags: modern setting, past billy/steve, first meetings, flirting, fake proposal

read on ao3

Eddie sits at the restaurant, scrolling mindlessly on his phone, waiting for Wayne.

He laughs at yet another one of those hilarious videos of parents doing the Grinch prank on their kids. Seriously, there are so many and he finds them infinitely amusing. He just sent the latest one to Gareth, knowing he’ll get a kick out of it too, and is waiting for his reply when someone slides into the seat in front of him. 

He knows it’s not his uncle before he even looks up because he just texted Eddie to say he was running late– and ain’t that rich coming from the same man who’s always complaining about Eddie never being on time? 

Anyway. 

Eddie locks his phone just as Gareth’s reply comes in but he does get a glimpse of a string of laughing emojis before he looks up. “Sorry, man, that seat is–” 

But the rest of the words die in his throat when his brain momentarily stops working. It does that sometimes, especially around hot guys. Like the one sitting in front of Eddie, staring at him with a tiny frown between his eyebrows, probably wondering why Eddie stopped talking like he got sniped. 

“Taken. That seat is taken,” he finishes. Unlike me, Eddie thinks as he gives the guy an obvious once-over. 

“Shit, sorry, of course, but can you– can you hear me out for a second?” 

Eddie raises an eyebrow at him, his interest piqued. The guy is hunched over himself like he’s trying to hide and his voice has a frantic tilt.

“Uh sure, man, what’s up?” 

The guy probably expected Eddie to tell him to fuck off because he lets out a relieved little sigh when he agrees to listen to him. Then he leans over the table, lowering his voice. 

“Do you see that guy with the mustache waiting at the entrance? He’s my ex-boyfriend and a dick and he just showed up with the girl that he cheated on me with,” he explains hurriedly. 

Eddie locates the guy waiting to be seated and the girl holding his hand. He’s hot and she’s hot but the guy sitting in front of him has them both beat.

“So I haven’t seen him since I caught them together and ended things with him and– you know when you break up with someone and constantly think about how things will go when you run into them again? How they’ll see you and realize they lost the breakup and made a mistake by letting you go?” Eddie gives a short nod and the guy keeps going. “Right so that was my plan, only there’s a problem because the guy I was meeting for dinner tonight stood me up and now I’m here alone and pathetic and fucking Billy is here with his fiancée! Yes, they’re going to get married! Even if he always insisted he would never do that and–” 

He keeps rambling but Eddie is stuck on the fact that not only did this guy get cheated on but also someone stood him up. What the fuck? 

If he ever went on a date with someone as hot as him, Eddie would lock him down faster than anyone can say–

“–help?” 

Eddie blinks. Shit. The guy just asked him something and he has no idea what it was. 

“Uh, s–sure, how can I help?” 

Despite his flawless attempt to make it seem like he was paying attention, the guy can tell Eddie zoned out at some point. It drags an amused chuckle out of him. “I thought I could sit here with you until they leave or until they are seated and I can sneak out without them seeing me,” he says, running a hand through his hair and giving Eddie a sheepish look. 

Eddie’s phone lights up with a text then. The guy’s eyes dart down, and even if he can’t read what it says, he makes his own assumptions. 

“Unless– unless your date is almost here and you need me to fuck off before they arrive?” He says, his expression turning panicked again. He moves his chair back as if to get up and leave, almost taking out the poor waiter.

Eddie reaches across the table and grabs hold of his sweater, stopping him. “Actually my date is just my uncle and he said he’s running late,” he says with his fingers wrapped around the guy’s wrist. 

His eyes flicker down, widening a little but he doesn’t pull his hand back. “So?” 

“So you can stay.”

The guy visibly relaxes. “Fuck, thanks so much–”

“Eddie,” he offers when the guy trails off. 

“Thanks, Eddie,” the guy says with a lopsided grin that makes Eddie’s chest flutter. 

Eddie nods and leans back until his chair is balancing on two legs. He has no choice but to let go of the guy’s sweater. “So what are we doing here? Are we friends? Are we on a first date? Have we been dating for a while? What’s the game plan, big boy?”

The guy sputters, adorably flustered. “We don’t– we don’t have to do anything like that, man.” 

“Why? I’m not pretty enough to make your ex jealous?” Eddie teases, pouting a little. 

“No!” The guy hurries to say then realizes what that sounds like and blushes furiously. “I mean– no, that’s not it. You’re definitely pretty. Handsome. Hot. Uh–”

Eddie can’t help the way his grin gets bigger with every compliment until he can feel his dimples digging into his cheeks. By then the guy’s face is as red as the tablecloth. “Oh keep ‘em coming, sweetheart. Flattery definitely works on me.”

He chuckles nervously. “It’s just– I can’t ask you to do that, man.”

“Do what? Pretend that a guy like me can get a date with someone as hot as you?” He leans forward again, resting his chin on his palms and smirking. “Oh, baby, it would be my pleasure.” 

“Jesus,” the guy mutters. Eddie’s blatant flirting doesn’t give him a chance to get his blush under control. “I guess we could pretend we’re on a date if you’re up for it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie notices Billy and his fiancée following a waiter to their table. They’re going to walk right past them and there’s no way he won’t see Steve. As they get closer, Eddie catches a glimpse of the engagement ring on the girl’s finger–

“I’ll do you one better,” he says as he gets an idea. “Do you trust me?” 

The guy lets out an amused laugh. “I just met you,” he says, and when Eddie shrugs like he’s saying– so? he adds, “Okay, sure, why not?” 

Eddie shoots him a grin. “What’s your name?” 

“Steve.” 

“Your full name.”

“Harrington,” Steve says, his face pulling into a frown. “Why do you need my last–”

“Steve Harrington!” Eddie says loudly, watching as Steve’s eyes widen almost comically. The people around them whip their heads in their direction, including Billy and his girl. Perfect.

“I was planning to do this after dinner but I just can’t hold myself back anymore,” Eddie continues just as loudly. He furtively removes one of his many rings before pushing his chair back and standing up. 

He shoots Steve a quick wink and drops down on one knee. 

“Oh my God,” Steve whispers disbelievingly as he understands what’s happening. His shock only makes Eddie’s plan more believable. 

“Steve, Stevie, sweetheart, I still remember the moment when we met like it was five minutes ago,” he starts, watching Steve’s lips twitch almost imperceptibly. “I remember thinking you were so fucking out of my league you shouldn’t even be talking to me, but fate willed it so, and now I’m lucky enough to call you mine. So now I ask you to let me call you mine forever. Steve, the love of my life, my Prince Charming, the best lay I’ve ever had, will you please marry me?” He finishes by holding up his ring, looking expectantly at Steve, wondering if he’ll play along. 

He does.

Wiping a fake tear, he leans forward on his chair, cupping Eddie’s cheeks between his hands. “Eddie, our time together might seem short but I’ve always known I was right to pick you,” Steve says and Eddie has to hold back a snigger when he follows his lead– sticking to the truth as much as they can. “Now I’m picking you again. Forever. Yes, I will marry you.”

The people around them start clapping when Eddie takes Steve’s hand and slides his ring on his finger. He presses a kiss to the back of his hand, earning some cooing from the two women sitting on the table next to theirs. Billy doesn’t clap and his nose wrinkles when Steve pulls Eddie to his feet and into a hug,  glaring at the back of his head.

Eddie can’t help but smirk against Steve’s shoulder. 

“You’re insane,” he mutters into Eddie’s hair. It should be weird hugging a stranger but Eddie actually enjoys it. It feels familiar somehow. “Thank you.”

Eddie pulls back and grins, his hands still on Steve’s hips. “Aren’t you glad you picked me, huh, sweetheart?” 

Steve lets out a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I am.”

“Eddie?” A familiar gruff voice says and Eddie whips his head around to see his uncle approaching, his eyes darting from Eddie to Steve to Eddie’s hands on Steve’s waist and Steve’s arms looped around Eddie’s neck. 

“Wayne!” He says, his grin not faltering for a second. This isn’t the weirdest thing Wayne has walked in on when it comes to Eddie. “You’re just in time to meet your new son-in-law!”

Wayne’s eyebrows shoot up and next to him, Steve makes a strangled sound. 

Eddie signals a waiter and it turns out to be the same one who was guiding Billy and his girl to their table before. Billy is nowhere to be found, he probably scurried off to their table while Steve and Eddie were distracted with each other, hoping Steve wouldn’t see him. Serves you right, asshole, he thinks triumphantly. 

“What can I do for the happy couple? Congratulations, by the way,” the waiter says and Eddie beams, pulling Steve closer with the arm wrapped around his waist. 

“Thank you, kind sir. Can you get us another chair for my uncle?”

The waiter nods and goes to retrieve one. 

“Eddie, you don’t have to– I can just go–” Steve says, a faint pink blush covering his cheeks.

“I can’t let you leave, Steve. We’re engaged now, it’d look weird,” Eddie says, and it’s true but he also doesn’t want to say goodbye to Steve yet.

And maybe Steve doesn’t want to say goodbye either because he folds easily. “Yeah, okay.”

They explain to Wayne what he walked into and his uncle gets a kick out of it. He and Steve get along surprisingly well, and by the end of the night, it almost feels like Steve was part of their dinner plans from the beginning. 

Wayne leaves shortly after dessert but Steve and Eddie stick around for one more drink, neither of them wanting the night to end. 

It has to, eventually, but Eddie is pretty sure that this won’t be the last he sees of Steve, not after they spent the whole night getting to know each other and flirting up a storm.

On their way out they run into Billy and his girlfriend, and Steve almost seems surprised when they do. Like he forgot Billy was there, despite him being the reason why he talked to Eddie in the first place.  Their conversation is short but Eddie makes sure to hold Steve’s hand the whole time and call Billy ‘Bobby’ a total of three times just to annoy him.

After they leave, Eddie walks Steve to his car. 

“Thanks again,” he says, leaning against the door. “For helping me out. And for dinner.”

“It was my pleasure,” Eddie smiles. “We should do it again sometime.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Stage a proposal?”

Eddie chuckles. “Well, I was thinking about dinner but I’m always happy to get down on my knees for a hot guy,” he says with a wink. 

A slightly strangled laugh tumbles out of Steve’s lip but his eyes sparkle with interest. “Maybe let’s start with dinner. Just the two of us.”

They exchange numbers, promising to call each other. When Eddie turns around to start walking toward his van, Steve calls his name.

“Don’t forget your ring,” he says, sliding it off. 

But Eddie reaches out to stop him. “Keep it,” he says, “you can give it to me next time.” 

With a grin, Steve slides it back on. 

He ends up keeping the ring, but that’s okay because Eddie gets to keep Steve. 

[imaginespazzi]

Part 13: If You Stay

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

And I find it bittersweet (cause you gave me something to lose)

(In which, an all over the place writer, writes an all over the place chapter)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst with some Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 13.1K

TW: Swearing, Slightly Suggestive Content, Mentions of Divorce, Drinking

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 So clearly that 48 to 72 hours deadline completely evaded me but here I am! I've always gotten asks about how many chapters GH will be and normally it's an estimate but I can almost for certain say that after this one, there will be two more chapters. This part is, like I said, a little all over the place as I start to tie in loose ends and bring everything together but it's pretty important as we start our journey to the end. This isn't particularly well-edited because as well know I hate editing but I eventually will go back and edit so any typos/errors you see are much-appreciated. As always, your live reacts give me life, so let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely weekend my loves <3

May 2033

Paige wakes up alone to an empty bed. Her eyes open to the feel of her fingers reaching out and finding nothing but the soft material of her crinkled bedsheets. She stares at the empty space, gaze fixated on the way the sunlight hits the exact spot Azzi had been curled up in and lets her mind wander back to yesterday -god everything had been fine just 24 hours ago- when the rays of sunshine coming through the window had cast lines of gold across the brunette’s face. It wasn’t often that Paige woke up before Azzi, but for some reason she had yesterday. Maybe it was the universe’s way of giving her one last chance to memorize an image that she’s not sure when she’ll be able to see again. Paige traces her hands along the linen, blinking back tears, and she swears she can still feel the heat of Stephie and Azzi’s bodies radiating off of it. It’s unfair, she knows, to expect them to have stayed when it’s the one thing she herself can’t commit to doing but still, that awareness does little to dull the ache reverberating through her chest. 

Sighing to herself, Paige shifts onto her back, turning away from the empty space that almost feels taunting. She gives herself a minute, taking deep breaths to chase away the erraticness in her heartbeat and the moisture in her eyes before finally sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Her eyebrows knit together when she notices the bag in the corner -the pink duffel Azzi had packed for last night- and she almost gasps. It wasn’t like Azzi to forget her stuff, even when escaping. And then she hears it, the familiar giggles of a little girl echoing from her kitchen and Paige feels her heart break and fix itself at the same time. 

They’d stayed. 

Paige flings the covers off of herself, making it from the guest bedroom to the stairs in record time. She almost slips on the fifth step as she races down the stairs, every part of her alight with the need to just see Stephie and Azzi. Her feet skid to a halt before the kitchen doorway and her breath catches in her lungs, hand immediately clutching at her chest as she takes in the scene in front of her. It’s the three most important people of her life gathered around the kitchen counter. Azzi’s flipping pancakes, a soft grin on her face as she listens to Drew and Stephie -both of them already with a stack of pancakes on their respective plates- who are animatedly arguing about whether banana or chocolate chips go better with pancakes. 

“Come on Uncle Drew,” Stephie drawls, “choc-chips are the best-est-est-est and ‘nanas are boooooring.”

“Bananas are not boring,” Drew counters, his voice filled with dramatic offense, “you can mash them in the pancake or eat them on the side or on top of the stack. Bananas are versatile.”

Stephie scrunches her nose and Paige smiles as the little girl gives her brother a pointed look, “I don’t know what vers-a-tile means so that doesn’t even matter to me.”

Azzi snorts, “I don’t think that’s how that works Stephie-bean.”

“Does too,” Stephie pouts and then juts her fork out at Drew, “here Uncle Drew, try it and you’ll see choc-chips are so much better than that,” she looks disdainfully at the young man’s plate. 

Drew dutifully accepts the bite of food, chewing it at an exaggeratedly slow pace as he pretends to contemplate how he feels about it. 

“I mean it’s not bad,” he says finally, before a smirk breaks out on his lips, “but banana’s clear.”

“Nah, I don’t know about that,” Paige says, finally making her presence known as she walks over to Stephie’s side, “You’re both wrong. Blueberries are better with pancakes than both bananas and chocolate chips,” she reaches out to ruffle Stephie’s hair, smile faltering when the little girl dodges her hand, “Steph-”

“Mama,” gone is the happy child that had been casually bantering with Drew; Stephie’s face is ashen with the remnants of her emotions from last night as shift herself as far away from Paige as possible, “I wanna go home.”

Her words feel like a sword, pricking against the bubble of delusion Paige had created mere seconds ago; the wishful thought that maybe they could ignore what had happened last night, that they could just close the lid on the jar of darkness they’d opened and pretend the obsidian hadn’t slipped out, clouding the paradise they’d built before. And maybe that’s Paige’s problem. Avoidance. She’d pushed herself towards Stephie and Azzi, acting like there wasn’t a harness -bound together with the ropes of all the grievances, all the fears, that the past had left in her- and now she was stuck, so close to reaching them but unable to finally get there. 

Azzi’s eyes flicker conflictedly between Paige’s ashen face and Stephie’s stormy one, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, “you’ve still got some more left on your plate Stephie-bean,”

“I don’t want the rest,” Stephie says adamantly, pushing the plate away from her, “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Stephie we don’t waste food,” Azzi says it like it’s a reprimand but Paige knows it’s for her sake, to give her more time with Stephie, and a mix of guilt and gratefulness pools in her stomach as fights the urge to pull the younger woman into her arms and kiss away the stress lines that have formed on her forehead in the last 24 hours. 

“Then pack it and we can take it home,” Stephie slides off the counter, tiny arms crossing over her chest as she looks at her mother with pleading eyes, “please Mama, I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“Stephie-” Paige tries to say, reaching out once again for the little girl. 

“Excuse me Coach Bueckers,” Stephie sidesteps the older woman, her voice far colder than a little girl’s voice should -far colder than anything she’s ever used with her Miss Buecks- and it feels like shards of ice prodding against Paige’s heart. 

“Stephie please-”

The little girl refuses to meet her gaze but Paige notices the way her eyes glance towards her for the briefest moment, like she wants nothing more than to turn around and fling herself at the older woman. But the look is gone as quick as it came and Stephie’s face hardens -and Paige hates herself for being the reason why- as she looks at her mother. 

“Please can we go home now Mama?” 

Azzi sighs, “yeah bean, we can go home. Unless-” she hesitates, eyes locking with Paige’s, “unless- maybe Miss Buecks has a reason we should stay?”

And Paige knows this is Azzi giving her one last chance, one last opportunity to say the right things, to keep Stephie and Azzi with her. It’s why she hadn’t left this morning; she’d been waiting to see if Paige was ready. And all Paige has to do is open her mouth and make the promises that she couldn’t last night; shut the door on her escape plan -to New York and the Liberty- and she can open the one that leads to her perfect dream; that leads to a forever with Stephie and Azzi. But that’s the thing; what if forever doesn’t last? After all, the last time she’d trusted in it -trusted the same woman in front of her to be hers always- forever had turned out to be a myth. But Paige isn’t ready. And so she averts Azzi’s gaze, keeps her mouth shut and looks away before she can see the hope disappear from the brunette’s face. 

“Right,” Azzi swallows, “alright then uh -you’re right Stephie- we should- we should go home. You go wash your face and uh- Mama’s gonna go grab our stuff and then- then we can go.”

The last words make an indiscernible noise creak out of Paige’s lips as she watches Stephie make her way towards the bathroom. Azzi carefully flips the final pancake onto a plate -one with a stack of blueberry pancakes- before turning the stove off and beelining for the stairs towards the guest room. But Paige is quicker, curling her fingers around the younger woman’s wrist to keep her in place. 

“Az,” she breathes out, unsure what to say- unsure what she even wants to say.

Azzi doesn’t look at her, “I ordered groceries.”

“What?”

“You didn’t have any food and I- I wanted to make pancakes,” Azzi explains, “but uh- I got more than just pancake stuff. There’s eggs and milk and that stupid cereal that you like and just- just basic groceries you know. And I know you don’t like veggies but I had to get some because they’re good for you Paige okay but don’t- don’t worry- I balanced it out with all those ridiculously unhealthy snacks you like.”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice cracks, “you didn’t have to-”

“I did,” Azzi cuts her off, “you just- you can’t live off of fucking takeout okay,” a lone tear slides down her cheek, “and I got- I got enough groceries to last you two weeks but you- you’ll have to get more eventually if-” she stops herself but they both know where that sentences was going. 

If you’re gonna live here- if you’re gonna live by yourself. 

“I just-” Paige struggles to get the words out, “I need some more time.”

“I know,” Azzi finally looks at her and for a second Paige almost wishes she hadn’t because the hurt -the please just say you’ll stay- swimming in the younger woman’s eyes is almost too much to bear, “I know you need time and you- you can have it,” she brushes her thumb against Paige’s waterline, “but you can’t have both. You can’t have time and us.”

Why not, Paige wants to scream, wants to stomp her feet like a petulant toddler but she knows Azzi’s right, knows that they have to be apart until she figures it out. And so she nods at the brunette’s words as Azzi gently caresses her cheek -fingers lingering just a little longer than they should- before she rushes upstairs to grab her and Stephie’s overnight bag. 

Paige watches her go before she disappears out of sight, and the blonde falls back against the counter. Closing her eyes as she takes in a couple of deep breaths, she swears the air has never felt more acidic. She can feel Drew looking at her; can almost see the contemplative -maybe even concerned- look in his eyes without opening her own. 

“What?” she bites out, harsher than intended. 

“Nothing,” Drew hesitates, “I just- I didn’t think Azzi would have stayed last night.”

Paige shrugs, eyes still closed, “I asked her to.”

“I figured but I- I guess I didn’t expect her to agree,” Drew says quietly. 

There’s an undercurrent to her brother’s tone that has Paige finally opening her eyes, fixing him with a stern gaze, “what exactly are you trying to say Drew?”

“Nothing,” Drew repeats but the nervous shuffle of his feet say something entirely different. 

“Drew.”

“She stayed Paige,” his voice breaks unexpectedly, “last night, this morning, she- she stayed.”

There’s a beat of silence as Paige stares at her brothers, absorbing his words when the unexpected flash of anger hits, “seriously?”

“What?” Drew’s taken aback by the fire in his sister's eyes. 

“What do you mean what? One fucking stack of pancakes and suddenly all that shit you said to me last night- you don’t believe it anymore? All of that’s forgotten now?”

“That’s not-”

“Jesus fucking christ Drew,” Paige pinches the bridge of her nose and she’s fully aware her anger is misdirected -that it’s herself, she’s mad at- but she continues ranting at her brother anyways, “you made me overthink everything Drew. I was doing fine, we were doing fine and then- then you said all of that shit last night, reminded me of everything and now here we are the next morning and what? You’re not mad at Azzi anymore? She stays one fucking night and all is forgiven? You’ve changed your whole fucking mind-”

“You can’t blame me-” Drew begins to cut her off loudly but then there’s another voice -soft and small- interrupting both of them as they turn to see Stephie staring at them, her expression almost fearful at the sound of them arguing. And Paige hates herself a little bit for putting all these new expressions on the little girl’s face; she misses when she used to be the reason for her smile. 

“That’s- that’s two bad words Miss-” Stephie stops herself, swallowing away the familiar name, “I mean- Coach Bueckers.”

“Sorry Stephie,” Paige whispers, pausing slightly before she takes a nervous step towards the girl, “so does that- does that mean I owe you two kisses?”

Stephie’s face wobbles, her bottom lip trembling as she nods slowly, “yeah you do.”

Paige breathes shakily as she kneels down in front of the little girl, eyes drinking in the sight of having her this close -like they know they might not get this moment again- as she slowly pulls her into her arms. Stephie is warm and soft and familiar and Paige wishes she would never have to let the little girl go. She squeezes her to her chest as she delicately places her lips against Stephies left cheek. 

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” she whispers against the little girl’s soft skin, hoping the child knows it isn’t just for the swearing before she presses another fluttering kiss against Stephie’s right cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

And then, just as Stephie’s about to pull out of her grasp, Paige stops her, pressing her lips to the little girl’s forehead. When she pulls back, Stephie’s staring at her with a confused look on her face. 

“You only owed me two,” she says matter-of-factly, “what was the last one for?”

Paige gives the little girl a sad smile as she brushes away a strand of curly hair that had gotten loose from her ponytail, “just because you’re my Stephie-bean.”

Stephie stares at her and Paige can see a myriad of emotions flicker behind her tiny eyes. She opens her mouth, like she’s about to say something and Paige’s heart thumps in anticipation, but then the sound of Azzi’s footsteps coming down echoes from the stairs and Stephie pushes away from her. And suddenly, Paige feels empty, like the most vital parts of her are missing. 

“You ready to go Stephie-bean?” Azzi asks, mustering on a brave voice for her daughter but Paige can hear the way it’s cracking, can tell from her red-rimmed eyes that she’d taken a little longer than necessary upstairs to fix herself. 

“Yeah Mama,” Stephie takes her mother’s outstretched hand, “let’s go home.”

The walk through the foyer and outside towards Azzi car feels like it takes hours. Drew doesn’t come all the way, stopping at the front door and giving Stephie a quick high-five that draws a brief smile from the little girl. He doesn’t say anything to Azzi but there’s an underlying softness in the way he tips his head towards her as they nod at each other. And then it’s just the three of them and Paige swears they’re all walking just a little bit slower than they normally do, like they’re trying to savor this moment just a little longer and prolong the inevitable. 

She leans against the side of the car as Azzi buckles Stephie into her carseat. The little girl keeps on her brave face, avoiding eye contact with both Paige and her mother as she focuses firmly in front of her. When Azzi closes the backdoor, Stephie’s face disappearing behind the tinted windows, Paige wants to scream. Everything in her feels like it’s burning and freezing at the same time. 

Azzi hesitates as she’s about to get into the driver’s seat, biting her lip as she turns back towards Paige. 

“You should know that I - that Stephie and I- we-” she pauses, like she’s scared to say the rest of it, “we want you- we want you forever Paige,” both of them suck in a deep breath as the confession looms in the air above them, “and I know you need time and you should take it,” Azzi says softly, her hand reaching almost halfway to caress Paige’s cheek before falling forlornly back to her sides, “but we can’t- we won’t wait forever.”

*** 

August 2031 

Paige is normally a big fan of All-Star weekend; she relishes the chaos of the weekend, getting the opportunity to connect with her fellow peers in a way that wasn’t possible during the rest of the season and just didn’t quite happen at this level outside of it.  But she’s definitely not a fan of it this year, considering it’s being held in her team’s city, in Dallas. Six years later and still, something about this city doesn’t quite feel right, doesn’t feel quite like a place she can call home. 

But still, at least it had given her the chance to not have to be in her apartment this weekend. Unlike her teammates who were more than comfortable staying in their respective homes, Paige had taken up the WNBA’s offer to stay where the rest of the non-Wings players were staying. It’s ironic that the sterile walls of an unfamiliar hotel somehow feel more comforting than a home that’s supposed to be hers. Except, the apartment -the one she’d moved into after the divorce after giving Oliva their house in an act of goodwill- feels cold and empty and Paige has done little to rectify it. She pretends it’s because she’s too busy, that she’ll get to hanging up the picture frames and decorating the walls eventually. But there’s a part of her that knows she’s likely just stalling the inevitable, that the apartment is as temporary as it gets until she finally lets herself make the decision to to leave Dallas. 

The quiet ding of the elevator opening has Paige sighing as she shakes her mind of that daunting thought. It’s why she’d rushed out of her room in the first place, not wanting to be trapped with herself for longer than necessary. The silence has become her worst enemy, enhancing the loneliness that she’s felt ever since the divorce- maybe even longer. 

Divorce. 

God she hates that word, has hated it since her parents had sat her down and said they were getting one. She’d always told herself she wouldn’t become another divorce statistic like them but clearly history liked repeating itself. And the worst part of it, Paige thinks, is that she doesn’t regret the divorce -thinks it might be one of the only right decisions she’s made in the last six years- but maybe she regrets that marriage, regrets selling Olivia a dream, she’d subconsciously always known she wouldn’t be able to fulfill. 

Thinking of Olivia makes Paige feel awful. She hadn’t done anything outrightly wrong to the other woman, never raised her voice or said anything untoward and she’d definitely never cheated. Well, not physically at least. But she’d gotten married to the reporter for all the wrong reasons, trying to fit a puzzle piece that had all the wrong edges into the jigsaw of her life even though she’d known the empty space in her heart could only be filled by one person. For her part, Olivia had been just as good at pretending as Paige was, acting like she couldn’t see the cracks in their relationship or the water that was seeping in through them. 

And then something shifted -maybe the water had finally gone over their head- and just like she’d been the one to bring up the idea of getting married, Olivia was the one who had filed for divorce. And Paige thinks maybe the worst thing she ever did to Olivia, is the way she didn’t fight it once. She remembers the hesitation in her ex-wife’s eyes, remembers the slight pleading look on her face as if she wanted Paige to at least resist it a little bit. But she hadn’t; she’d simply nodded and signed. That was the end of the Olivia, Paige knew and from then on the sweet, bubbly, slightly over-enthusiastic reporter who’d stumbled over her question at Paige’s first media availability transformed into a cold ex-wife who could keep up a charade of cordiality for appearances, but never refrained from a cutting jab here and there. 

The elevator dings open and Paige steps into the lobby, straightening her hoodie a little bit as she scans the area for familiar faces. Finding no one she’s particularly interested in talking to, she’d just about to head to the bar when her eyes land on a little girl nervously bouncing on her feet next to a vase of flowers that’s almost double her height. She can’t be older than three years old and Paige can tell from the way her bottom lip is trembling, that the young child is doing her absolute best to hold in tears. Something constricts in her heart -something almost more than just empathy for the little girl- as Paige makes her way over. 

Gently, trying not to scare the girl, Paige kneels in front of her, “hey sweetheart.”

When the little girl turns to look at her, familiar dark brown doey eyes filled with unshed tears, her breath hitches in her throat and Paige suddenly realizes why she’d felt that tug in her heart. This is Azzi’s kid. 

“H-hi,” the little girl manages to splutter, playing with her fingers as she regards Paige with a way expression, clearly trying to discern whether she’s safe or not. 

“Hey,” Paige repeats, smiling reassuringly, “you okay?”

The little girl nods slowly but there must something about the warmth in Paige’s smile that she pauses, rebellious teardrops running down her face as she goes from nodding to shaking her head. 

“I-I-I-I- lost,” she wails. 

“Oh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige tries to say, hands instinctively reaching out to run up and down the little girl’s shoulders. 

“I was- I was ‘posed to be with Aunty J but she- she was talking and I saw pu-ple flow-es,” she points to the vase through her tears, “so I came to see but then- but then- I look back and Aunty J no there anymore and I want- I want my Mama,” she heaves, fully sobbing now, “I want my Mama.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, shhh,” Paige comforts the little girl as she stands back up, lacing her own fingers through her tinier ones, “how about we go and try to find your Mama?”

She’s about to turn around when feels a tug on her hand and when she looks down, the young child is shaking her head, adamantly planting her feet firmly on the floor. 

“We can’t go,” she says firmly, “Mama says if I get lost, I stay where I am and Mama will find me. And-,” she hesitates as she looks Paige up and down, “Mama says I don’t go anywhere with a st-anger.”

It shouldn’t sting -because that’s what Paige is, a stranger- but it’s an unsettling reminder that this is a world like nothing she’d ever imagined when she was younger, a world where Azzi’s daughter doesn’t know her. 

“So we can’t go. We have to stay here and Mama will find me,” the little girl says again and despite the tears still swimming in her eyes, there’s complete confidence -trust- in her voice that her mother -that Azzi- will find her. 

“Okay,” Paige agrees softly, “but is it okay if I wait with you?”

Azzi’s daughter looks at her with a contemplative look for a couple of seconds before a bright grin explodes on her face and Paige thinks it feels a little bit like a ray of sunshine bombarding into her otherwise cloudy world. 

“Okay,” the little girl grins happily before holding out a tiny hand, “I’m Stephanie Katarina Fudd.”

Paige laughs at the formality as she shakes Stephanie’s hand, “I’m Paige Madison Bueckers.”

“Nice to meet you Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chirps as smiles up at the woman. 

“It’s Bueckers,” Paige tries to correct as Stephanie scrunches up her nose. 

“That’s what I said,” she says with a confused look on her face, “Miss Buecks.”

Paige opens her mouth to try and correct her again but stops, deciding she’s not about to argue with the little girl and that she quite likes the incorrect way Stephanie says her name.  Instead she lets herself fall to the ground, leaning against the pillar as she stretches out her legs in front of her. Stephanie raises an eyebrow at the actions but eventually sits down next to her and Paige smiles. They sit in silence for a bit as Paige reaches for her phone, considering texting Azzi for a brief second before she eventually decides to text Jana -who she thinks might just be Stephanie’s Aunty J- instead to let Azzi know Stephanie was with her. 

“I know you,” Stephanie says suddenly and Paige looks away from the phone to see the little girl’s eyes wide with recognition. 

“I thought you said I was a stranger,” Paige cocks a teasing eyebrow. 

“You are,” Stephanie says matter-of-factly, “but I seen you at Mama’s game sometimes.”

“I’ve seen you too,” Paige admits. 

“You’re good at bask-ball,” Stephanie states and the thing is, Paige has heard and read so many people say she’s great at basketball but there’s something about the way Stephanie says it -something about the genuine innocence of it- that makes her beam with pride. 

“I guess I am,” she bumps Stephanie’s shoulder as she winks at her. 

“I love bask-ball,” Stephaniee’s eyes gleam as she says it and Paige knows that expression -knows that slight look of madness that’s just the beginning of falling in love with a sport. 

“Yeah?” she asks casually, “you play ball?”

Stephanie nods enthusiastically, “Mama got me a hoop for Ch-istmas -just like the one she had when she littler- and she p-omised that when I’m bigger, she’s gonna lemme go bask-ball camp.”

It’s hard not to grin along with Stephanie’s ranting, especially not when her determination to play basketball -one that reminds Paige a lot of herself- shines through her words. 

“You any good,” Paige teases, biting back a laugh when the little girl’s face contorts in offense, like she can’t even believe someone would have the audacity to question her basketball skills. 

“Of course I am. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter,” Stephanie says proudly, blissfully unaware of the way Paige's smile wobbles for a second at the statement, “but Mama says one day, I’mma be even gooder than her.”

“Can I get your autograph now then?” 

Stephanie scrunches her nose, “what’s an au-to-gra-ph?”

“Wait,” Paige stands up, on a mission to find a pen, but Stephanie immediately grabs her hand. 

The little girl’s eyes are wide with anxiety as she looks up at Paige, “no Miss Buecks don’t leave me.”

“Oh sweetheart I’m not,” Paige crouches back down in front of Stephanie, thumbs reaching out to rub the little girl’s cheeks in reassurance, “I’m gonna go right there to get something,” she points to the the reception desk, “I’ll be back in one minutes. I swear.”

“Pinky p-omise?” Stephanie raises her pinky and Paige diligently intertwines her own around it. 

“Pinky promise,” she says, before practically skipping over to where she’d spotted a cup-holder full of pens. She can feel Stephanie’s anxious eyes piercing into the back of her head and if possible, the smile she’s had on her face since meeting the little girl, somehow deepens. It’s dangerous, she knows, becoming so enamored with Azzi’s daughter but her heart has always moved faster than her head, and Paige still hasn’t quite figured out how to stop that. 

“You’re back,” Stephanie claps happily when Paige comes back to her and the blonde beams at the affection in her voice. 

“Told you I would be,” Paige grins as she plops back down next to the little girl, holding out the pen she’d found. 

“Why you get pen?” Stephanie asks, staring at it like it’s a foreign object. 

“Because you need a pen to give me your autograph,” Paige explains, “an autograph is when someone famous signs their name on something for someone,” she holds out her arm that is currently covered by a grey hoodie, “will you sign my hoodie?”

“Silly Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chides, “You and Mama are famous. I’m not famous.”

“Not yet. But if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, Stephanie Katarina Fudd, you are gonna be so famous. Just like me and your Mama,” Paige taps the little girl’s nose, releasing the giggle it elicits from her and she thinks it might be her new favorite sound, “and I wanna be the first person who gets your autograph.”

“Can I get yours too?” Stephanie asks, her tone a little shy and Paige thinks that forget an autograph, she’d give her the world if she’d asked for it. 

“Of course you can bean,” the nickname slips out before she can catch it and Paige’s mind travels back to her wedding day, back to the phone-call with Azzi. 

“Mama calls me bean too,” Stephanie says, as she begins to messily try and write her name on the sleeve of Paige’s hoodie, “she calls me Stephie-bean.”

As if on cue, Azzi’s voice fills the air, tinged with a slight bit of panic and Paige feels her heart catch in her throat. Six years they’ve been apart, something always thrums in her every time she feels Azzi’s presence near her. But it feels almost electric this time. The memories of the last time they’d seen each other, the night they’d spent together after this year’s National Championship game linger in the air and Paige shivers like she can still feels the softness of Azzi’s skin underneath her fingertips; can still hear the breathlessness of her moans in her hears. 

“Stephie-bean,” Azzi calls out and Stephanie’s eyes dart towards her mother’s voice as she immediately stands up, little feet tripping over each other as she rushes to get to the younger woman. 

“MAMA,” Stephanie yells, flinging herself into her mother’s arms and Paige watches as Azzi cradles the little girl to her chest, kissing all over her face. Something pangs in her chest, and she wishes she were a part of that embrace too. And if all the dreams they’d dreamt together when they were younger had come true, she would’ve been.

“Stephie what have I said about running off,” Azzi scolds as she coaxes the little girl's face out of her neck. 

“I din-t run off,” Stephanie defends petulantly, “I go to look at pu-ple flow-es cause they looked so pretty but then when I turned around, Aunty J gone,’ her face wobbles at the memory, “I was so scay-ed Mama cause I lost and ‘lone but then,” her voice changes immediately as she turns around to point at Paige, who freezes when Azzi’s gaze lands on her, “Miss Buecks find me!”

“Miss Buecks,” Azzi repeats dazedly as Stephanie begins to pull her towards Paige, unaware of the anxious tension between the two adults. 

“This is Miss Buecks,” Stephahnie introduces the two of them, “she find me and she tol’ me she help me find you but I say that Stephie can’t move cause Stephie have to stay right here cause Mama says if Stephie lost, Stephie don’t move,” the little girl says animatedly and both adults laugh at the random switch to third-person, “but Miss Buckes say she’ll stay with me and so I not ‘care anymore cause I have Miss Buecks,” she says casually, naive to the way it makes both Paige and Azzi swallows, “and look Mama,” she eagerly grabs Paige’s sleeve, “I give Miss Buecks my auto-gaph.”

“That’s, that’s lovely sweetheart,” Azzi says softly before she turns to Paige -and Paige wonders if it’ll ever stop, if the way her stomach swoons every time the brunette looks at her will ever go away-, “thank you for texting Jana and thank you- thank you for staying with her.”

Paige shrugs as casually as she can, “don’t gotta thank me,” she nudges Stephanie, “we had a great time together didn’t we Stephanie?” 

The little girl nods enthusiastically, “the great-est-est-est time,” she exclaims to her mother, “Miss Buecks is so cool.”

“Thanks Stephie-” Paige hesitates, unsure if she has the right to use the nickname, “Stephanie. You’re really cool too.”

Stephanie practically glows at the compliment, “Mama, Miss Buecks thinks I’m cool and- and- and- she say that I’m gonna be famous one day. That’s why she wanted my auto-gaph. Cause I’mma be a big bask-ball star just like you two.”

Azzi ruffles the little girl’s hair before looking at Paige with an indiscernible expression, “just like us huh?”

“Maybe even better,” Paige says softly. 

“I guess we’ll find out,” Azzi grins before leaning down to pick her daughter up -the sight of it invoking something warm and fuzzy in Paige’s stomach- “alright Stephie-bean, say bye to Miss Buecks. We gotta go get ready the orange carpet and I gotta go yell at your Aunty J for losing you again,” she winks at Paige who lets out a laugh. 

And she hasn’t laughed like this -laughed as much as she has in these last few minutes with Stephanie- in so long that she’d almost forgotten what it sounded like. 

“Bye Miss Buecks,” Stephanie waves over her mother’s shoulder. 

“Bye Stephanie,” Paige waves before hesitating for a second, and then she calls out, “hey Azzi?”

Azzi turns around slightly, humming in response, “what’s up?”

“I like that you call her Stephie-bean,” Paige admits nervously, hoping Azzi will understand what she means and by the way the brunette’s eyes soften, it’s clear she does. 

“It just felt right,” Azzi says softly; her mouth opens like she wants to say more -something more than what their current colleague-esque relationship allows for- but in the end, she settles on something far more mundane, “see you around Bueckers.”

“See ya,” Paige whispers back and if she stands completely still, watching Stephanie and Azzi walking all the way until they turn a corner and she can’t see them anymore, well that’s nobody’s business but her own. 

That’s the first night Paige lets herself wonder about the possibilities of becoming a Golden State Valkyrie. 

***

June 2033 

Dream 64      Valkyries 87

Paige has never had particularly strong feelings towards the Atlanta Dream. They weren’t a particularly bad team, nor were they a particularly great team and Paige had simply never had an experience with them -whether it was a fan of the league or as a player in it- that was worth remembering for her to feel anything towards them. But tonight, tonight Paige fucking hates the Atlanta Dream. 

Okay maybe she doesn’t hate the team. 

She hates a certain player, a certain #11 wearing French player who’d had the audacity to hold her Stephie, to wrap her arms around her Azzi. Paige had spent the first couple of minutes of warm-ups with a deep scowl on her face as she’d watched Clémence interact with her girls. She’d hated the way Stephie grinned at the French woman, hated the way Azzi had laughed at something she’d said. But most of all Paige hated that she hadn’t been able to do any of that -hadn’t been on the receiving end of Stephie’s giggles or Azzi’s warm smile- for almost three weeks now. God she missed them so fucking much. 

It was until Jana had tapped her on the back -a knowing look in her teammate’s eyes- that Paige had finally turned away from the scene. She’d channeled all her anger and frustration into the game, playing as the most aggressive version of herself. And it had paid off in the form of a 31 points, 7 assists, 4 rebounds and 3 stocks game, another statline cementing her position in the rather early race for MVP. But all of that feels futile now as Paige -signing autographs before she had to head off to media- notices Stephie go racing back into Clémence’s arms, the little girl’s face bright with happiness as the French woman catches her and twirls her around. From the corner of her eyes, she notices Azzi walking towards the two of them and Paige normally loves Azzi’s smile -think’s it’s nothing short of being the prettiest sight in the world- but she thinks she might hate it a little bit right now when it’s directed at Clémence. 

“Aunty Chérie,” Stephie’s squeals echo clearly in Paige’s ears, despite the noise of the crowd surround her, “you played so good today.”

“Merci ma chérie,” Clémence's voice is saccharine sweet, “I’m very happy to see you. I have missed you lots. I was thinking,” Paige continues to sign another jersey but her ears are fully tuned into the conversation happening a couple meters away as Clémence’s attention turns towards Azzi, “we are leaving tomorrow morning so I have some time tonight. So I was thinking maybe I could take you and Stephie out to dinner tonight? Unless-” Paige feels both Clemence’s and Azzi’s eyes flicker to herself and she tries to keep her focus on the fans in front of her, “unless perhaps you are going with someone else?”

Paige waits with bated breath for Azzi’s answer, wishing her telepathic plea for the brunette say no, could somehow reach her but it’s Stephie who answers first. 

“Mama please can we go,” the little girl begs immediately -her tone one that Paige knows to be the one she uses when she’s trying to get her mother to agree, “please, please, please. We haven’t gotten dinner with Aunty Chérie in so long.”

“Stephie-” there’s hesitation in Azzi’s voice but Paige knows that she’s likely to cave into her daughter’s wishes -after all Stephie isn’t asking for anything ridiculous- and she knows she has to get away, not wanting to hear anymore about Clémence’s stupid fucking dinner plans. 

Giving the fans in front of her a tight-lipped smile, Paige slowly backs away from them, eyes searching for Joyce -her companion to face the press tonight- as she heads towards the media-room. She’s so focused on looking for her teammate or perhaps she’s too in her head but she doesn’t spot the assistant carrying water bottles coming. The two of them collide with a large crash that rings around Chase Center as the bottles go flying across the court. Paige’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink as she feels the eyes of everyone on her -none more piercing than Azzi’s- but she doesn’t dare turn around. Instead she shoots the assistant an apologetic look, gathering as many water bottles as in front of her, before she’s bolting to the press room, wondering what the fuck she's done for the universe to keep testing her like this.

*** 

Paige is the last person left in the locker room. By the time she and Joyce had returned from the press conference, most of the team had fizzled out. And so she’d taken her time -ignoring the weird look Joyce gave her considering normally they were all eager to get home- showering and getting changed. She’d come out of the shower to a desolate locker room and as she’d sat on the bench, drying her damp hair, she’d let herself succumb to all the thoughts she’d been suppressing. 

It’s somehow worse this time; it hurts more in a way that Paige hadn’t known was possible. They hadn’t been together nearly as long as they were back then and their relationship was barely defined. But at least last time, Paige had been able to run to another side of the country where she wasn’t constantly reminded of her ex. Azzi isn’t even technically an ex this time, but there’s no avoiding her. Not when they’re on the same team, not when she’s a coach at her daughter’s camp.  And Paige doesn’t quite know what’s harder, trying to find oxygen in an air devoid of Azzi and Stephie’s presence, or trying to breathe when they’re near her.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so different. Paige has lost Azzi before and even if that doesn’t make the hurt any less, at least she has a blueprint for how to cope with it. But she doesn’t know how to deal with losing Stephie, doesn’t know how to not miss the little girl’s smile and her big doey eyes and the way she’d used to wrap her arms around Paige like she was trying to bind them together forever. 

But more than anything, more than missing Azzi or Stephie, Paige misses the three of them together. She misses Azzi’s exasperated look when she and Stephie would indulge in some sort of ridiculous drama. She misses the little girl’s mischievous look before she’d launch herself into both of their arms. She misses her own soft smile as she’d watch the two of them engage in the most mundane things. She misses the peaceful silence as they’d eat together and the noisy chaos when they’d argue over what movie to watch afterwards. She misses everything. 

And the worst part is that she knows she wouldn’t be missing any of it, if it wasn’t for the barriers she’s put up herself. This is a cage of Paige’s own making and the key to open the lock rests in her own hands. She just needs to be brave enough to use it. Azzi words run amok in her head, the reassurance that Paige could have time clouded by the reluctant warning that eventually that time would run out. 

“Hey,” she snaps herself out of her thoughts to see Azzi cautiously entering the locker room, her playing jersey swapped from a casual green top and cargo pants. 

Paige swallows, “hi.”

“I uh- I was um-” Azzi’s eyes nervously dart around the room as she strides over to her locker, picking up the pink lipgloss -one Paige has the taste of memorized- that’s sitting on the bench under it, “I forgot this so I uh- I came back to grab it.”

“Cool,” Paige replies monotonously but her head’s already racing with thoughts of will you let her kiss it off of you the way you let me? And she knows -she trusts- that Azzi won’t but even the possibility of it lights a small fire within her. 

Azzi chews on her lips as she nods, before starting to walk towards the door but she stops last second, turning around with the starts of a smile on her lips, “you were amazing tonight P. I mean you have been since the season started but tonight especially, you were just- you were you. You were awesome.”

Paige absorbs the compliments, tries to use it to douse the simmering jealousy that’s flaming up within her at the knowledge that once Azzi leaves this locker room, she’s likely going with Clémence. 

“Thanks,” the blonde manages to get out and it’s a little short and rather icy but Paige thinks it’s probably better than saying all the other things that are on the tip of her tongue. 

Azzi’s face dims at the curt reply, smile faltering as she nods, “anytime, P.”

That should be it. Paige should let her go, should be content with this small interaction that’s the most she’s gotten from outside of practice in weeks. But then the bitter words are waterfalling from her lips faster than she can stop them and despite the regret she feels immediately after, there’s a part of her that’s relieved when it makes Azzi come to a halt right in front of the door. 

“Your girl played well too,” she bites out, the acidic words burning her tongue. 

Azzi doesn’t turn around but Paige notices the way her shoulders go rigid, “don’t do this Paige. You know she’s not my girl.”

Paige ignores her, “11 points, 2 rebounds, 1 assist. Not bad numbers. Decent. But not better than yours of course.”

“Paige,” there's a warning note in Azzi’s voice, like she knows exactly where Paige is going with this.

“I’m just saying, “ Paige shrugs with a casualness that’s in stark contrast to the tension lingering in the air, “she’s a decent player. But you’d never be in her shadow. Never be known as just her anything.”

Azzi turns around slowly and Paige feels her anger dissipate as quickly as it had erupted when she takes in the way the brunette’s eyes are brimming with tears. 

“Seriously?” Azzi grits out, “you’re seriously gonna throw that in my face right now?”

“I’m not throwing anything in your face. I’m stating a fact-”

“Oh bullshit-”

“It’s not bullshit,” Paige yells before she sucks in a sharp breath, closing her eyes to calm herself down before she continues, “it’s not bullshit,” she repeats, “it is a fact and that fact is the reason why we’re here right now.”

“What do you mean?” Azzi crosses her arms across her body. 

“Nine years ago you said no-”

“Oh my god,” Azzi says exasperatedly, “we can’t keep going over this again.”

“We have to Azzi,” Paige cuts her off, “we have to because you said no. And you broke my heart and you broke my trust. And that’s why we’re here right now. That’s why I made the deal with the Liberty and that’s why I can’t let of my escape plan and that’s why I can’t promise to stay and that’s why we have to keep going over it. Because I’m trying, “her voice cracks as the first tear slides down, “god Azzi- I’m trying so fucking hard baby but how do I know you won’t say no me -to us- again?”

Azzi stares at her with an undecipherable expression, her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides. It feels like an eternity passes in between them as they look at each other, breathing heavily almost in sync, until the brunette finally speaks. 

“Well how do I know you won’t leave again?”

Paige blinks in confusion, “excuse me?”

“You keep accusing me of all of these things Paige but you’re the one that keeps leaving,” Azzi says and they both know she isn’t just talking about nine years ago, “I know- I know I made a mistake. But when I said no all I asked for was a little bit of time. That’s all I asked for Paige. Time. Just like you’re asking for right now. And I know- I know we said a whole lot of shit that night -I said a bunch of fucking things I shouldn’t have- but- god Paige you didn’t even give it a day. I came to find you less than 24 hours later and you were gone,” she chokes on the last word and Paige wants nothing more than to cradle the younger woman in her arms, take away her pain and shield her from ever feeling anything like it again. 

“Az-”

“And if you’d just waited -just given me a little bit of time,” Azzi continues as if she hadn’t even heard the blonde attempt to speak, “then maybe you would have known that I wasn’t saying no forever. Just for a little bit, just for then. But you just- you left.”

“You said a lot more than just no,” Paige says frustratedly. 

It’s Azzi’s turn to look guilty and Paige can almost see the memories of that night flashing in her mind, “I know that but I would’ve taken it all back if you’d just waited.”

“How could I have known that?” Paige whispers and she’s not sure if she’s defending herself from Azzi or from that voice in her head -the one she’d done her best to silence- that’s always wondered if she’d made a mistake immediately leaving for Dallas the morning after. 

“You couldn’t have,” Azzi says softly, sounding almost defeated, “the same way that you don’t know that I won’t say no again. The same way that I don’t know if you’ll leave again,” she sighs as she sits down next to Paige, “but that’s life Paige. We don’t know what’s gonna happen in the future and we can’t- we can’t predict what someone else will do. All we can do is try and trust ourselves and trust each other.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Paige nudges her shoulder and Azzi lets out a short laugh. 

“I know it’s not. Trust me, I know it’s hard. There’s about five hundred different voices in my head saying that I should stop waiting or whatever it is I’m doing right now. That I should let you go for good. That even if you end this whole Liberty bullshit, you’ll still leave me -leave us- eventually.”

“But?” Paige presses and she feels like she’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, like the next words out of Azzi’s mouth will determine whether she falls or flies. 

“But,” Azzi breathes out as she turns to look at Paige with a slightly wistful smile, “there’s this one voice in my head, clearer than all the rest that says I should trust you -that I should believe in us- that maybe we just need to get through this one last hurdle to get back to each other,” the younger woman reaches out to squeeze Paige’s hand gently before she stands up, “I think you just need to find that voice too P.”

“I’m scared Az,” Paige says softly. 

“I am too,” Azzi admits as she leans down to brush the blonde’s tears away with her thumb, “trusting is really fucking scary. I get it. but maybe- maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together.”

Paige shudders when Azzi presses a kiss to her forehead, the brunette's lips lingering long after she’s embedded every unspoken thought into it. She pulls away almost reluctantly, patting Paige’s cheeks lightly before starting to walk back towards the door. 

“Azzi,” the blonde calls out, mouth going a little drying when Azzi turns over her shoulder, “don’t go to dinner with Clémence.” 

Go with me. Let me take you and Stephie out to dinner instead. 

“Don’t hold on to the deal with the Liberty,” Azzi says quietly in lieu of an actual answer, “say you’ll stay.”

Paige falters, “Az I-”

“I already told you P,” there’s a sad smile on Azzi’s face before she turns away, “you can have time or you can have us but you can’t have both. Not right now. 

“Azzi-”

“I hope you find that voice soon Paige and I hope it leads you back to me.”

***

August 2032 

Paige is standing in a corner -a dirty Shirley in her hand- cackling at a joke that Cam had just made when she sees her entering and the laughter dies in her throat. Cam notices the change immediately, her eyes tracking Paige’s gaze until they land on the brunette who’s being pulled into a series of congratulatory hugs by players from other countries. 

“So where did y’all go last night?” the LA Sparks center asks casually 

“What?” Paige asks distractedly, her eyes narrowing when she notices a familiar French player inching towards the door for a hug of her own. 

“You and Azzi,” Cam clarifies and Paige swallows at the mention of her name, “y’all disappeared while we were all still celebrating. Lowkey felt like we were back in Belarus all over again when y’all just kept going off somewhere with each other,” the taller woman shoots Paige a teasing grin, “so where’d you go?”

“Just uh- just needed some air,” Paige bites her lip at the lie. 

Because the truth is that once they’d left the hotel bar, and they’d practically pounced on each other -from the elevator till they’d made it to Paige’s hotel room- they’d barely come up for air. The feeling of each other’s lips and bare skin was more intoxicating than any drink they’d consumed -maybe even more intoxicating than the Olympic Gold medal they’d finally won together earlier that day- and neither of them seemed to care about unimportant matters such as breathing. 

Cam quirks an eyebrow as she sips at her drink, “if you say so Bueckers.”

“I do say so,” Paige retorts before dislodging herself from the wall she’d been leaning against, eyes still tracking every moment Azzi made, “we should- we should go say hi.”

“We should, should we?” Cam smirks but the sweet angel she is, she falls into step easily with Paige as they start walking across the room. 

The banquet hall is buzzing with players dancing and drinking and mingling with each other. Now that the basketball portion of the Olympics was over, they’d all returned from being fierce competitors playing for their country, to being the friendly co-players they all were. Laughter and chatter fills the air as teammates and rivals alike, reconnect at the FIBA-sponsored party that had almost all of the women’s basketball players participating in Bris2032 in attendance. 

“Azziiii,” Cam squeals as the two of them finally reach the Valkyries superstar who’d just finished hugging Gabby. 

Azzi grins when she sees Cam but it slips a little when she notices Paige next to her. She’s quick to fix it, eyes going back to Cam as she pulls the taller woman into a hug. Something pinches against Paige’s heart and she forces herself to look away; her gaze landing instead on where Gabby has walked away from the three of them to slip an arm around Marine’s waist. Paige stares wistfully at the scene -at the way Marine relaxes into Gabby’s touch as she continues whatever conversation she’d been involved in. It’s all she wants and instinctively, her eyes wander back to Azzi. 

“Hey,” Paige says slowly as Azzi lets go of Cam, disappointment coursing through her veins when all she gets is a nod of acknowledgement.

“So Azzi I was just asking Paige here, where y’all disappeared to last night?” Cam asks with a teasing tone. 

Azzi blanches as the question, “oh um- I- uh I wanted to go check in on Stephie.”

“And you needed Paige to come with you for that?” 

A distinctly pink hue begins at the base of Azzi’s neck, climbing up until it tints her cheeks, “I was a little tipsy and uh- just wanted the support I guess.”

Paige almost snorts at the response. Azzi had been way beyond tipsy and Paige wouldn’t have been any support, considering she’d been maybe two drinks away from blacking out. But she supposes, Cam probably doesn’t need to know that and she definitely doesn’t need to know what it had led to. 

“Interesting,” the taller blonde looks between the two women as she takes another sip of her drink, “Paige just said y’all needed some air.”

“I mean that- that was definitely a part of it too. The bar was getting pretty hot-” this time Paige does snort at Azzi’s answer which gets her an amused look from Cam and a very unamused look from the brunette herself. 

Cam puts her hands up in surrender, “listen if Paige says y’all needed air and if you say you needed to go see Stephie, I believe you,” she says but that cheeky grin on her face says the exact opposite. 

“Speaking of Stephie. It’s uh- it’s almost her bedtime and I should uh- I should call my Mom so I can say goodnight,” Azzi manages a tightlipped smile towards the two other women before she disappears into the crowd, heading towards the balcony. 

Paige hesitates for a second before she turns to face Cam and that shit-eating, knowing smirk on her friend’s face almost has her giving into her pride and swallowing the words she’s about to say. Almost. 

“I’m uh- I’mma go to,” she stumbles out. 

“Oh of course,” Cam grins sly, “bet Azzi needs some more support huh?”

Paige shakes her head, flashing Cam her middle finger -and rolling her eyes when it causes the taller woman to laugh- as she follows after Azzi. The chill Brisbane air swarms around her as she steps out into the balcony. Azzi’s standing right by the railing, her phone held right above her as she facetimes her daughter. Paige catches on quickly to the conversation, realizing that the little girl is telling her mother about how Tim had let her have ice-cream after dinner. 

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” Paige hears Tim’s voice echo through the phone as Stephanie’s eyes go wide on the screen, “I thought it was gonna be our little secret?”

She holds in a laugh, leaning back against the door, as the little girl splutters trying to justify her tattle-taling, “it’s Mama, Pops. I can’t hide things from my Mama.”

Tim scoffs but there’s no genuine irritation to it, “that’s the last time I give you ice-cream.”

Stephanie shoots him an unimpressed look, “you say that all the time Pops and then you give me ice-cream anyways.”

“She’s got you there,” Katie choruses from the back and Paige watches as she high-five her grand-daughter. 

And she doesn’t quite know what that pang in her chest means, but she’s felt it every time she’s seen Stephani and the Fudds over the course of the Olympics. The Fudds had come to Brisbane -of course they had- and every time Paige caught sight of them in the stands or watched them from the corner of her eyes, it felt like something was stinging against her rib cage. They’d all had custom #35 Azzi jerseys and their cheers were louder than every other voice in the arena any time Team USA did anything and after each win, they’d been the first people down the stairs, ready to hug envelope Azzi in a hug. At the forefront of it was Stephanie, who’d ran into her mother’s arms at lightning quick speed and Paige had watched -hoping she was being at least somewhat conspicuous- as Azzi had spun the little girl around. 

It wasn’t that the Fudds ignored Paige. In fact they’d made it a point to come over to her right after to wrap her up amidst themselves. Stephanie had come over too, her smile shy as she’d congratulated Paige on the wins. The little girl clearly didn’t quite remember their interaction from all-star last year -her eyes regarding Paige almost like a stranger- and the blonde consoles herself with the fact that Stephanie’s only four. Four year olds weren’t known for remembering things that had happened when they were three. Still, it hurt a little bit considering Paige thinks of that interaction more than she probably should.  

But even though she’d still gotten the hugs and the smiles and the congratulations, it wasn’t quite the same, wasn’t anything like she’d picture during the conversations of we’ll get customized 5+35 Bueckers-Fudd jerseys for the Olympics she’d once had with Tim and Katie. 

“Alright Stephie-Bean, Mama’s gonna head back into the party-” Paige refocuses on the conversation just in time to hear Azzi get cut off by her rather dramatic daughter.

“I can’t bel-ieve you went to another party without me Mama,” Stephanie drags out the words, “no Mama-good-night-kisses cause she pick party-time over Stephie time.”

The little girl’s joking but Paige can tell by the way it makes Azzi pause for a second -her shoulder stiffening just a little bit- that it’s hit a nerve. She wants to soothe it away, wants to wrap her arms around her from behind, hitch her chin over her neck and take away all of Azzi’s worries. And that bitter thought -the one that seems to surface every time her heart beats a little faster for the brunette, the one that had filled her head when she’d woken up next to the younger woman earlier this morning- takes birth in her head again. The thought she could have done all of that -would have the right to do it- if only Azzi had just said yes.

“I’ll make it up to you Stephie-bean,” she hears Azzi promise, “tomorrow, just you and me okay sweetheart? All of my time’s gonna be yours.”

Stephanie’s face immediately brightens up, “okay Mama,” she says happily as she blows a kiss to the screen, “love you Mama. Good night.”

“Good night sweet girl. I love you more,” Azzi choruses back, waving at the screen before she cuts the call. 

It takes her a moment to turn around and Paige watches as Azzi takes in a deep breath, a subtle smile on her face as she takes in the Brisbane skyline. When she does finally turn around, surprise filters onto her expression at seeing the blonde standing there. 

“Hey,” Paige whispers nervously, stuffing her hands into the pocket of her pants. 

Azzi looks at her for a moment, “hi.”

They stand there rigidly, letting the tension -a completely different kind than the one that had encompassed them last night- simmer between them. It’s almost like they're daring each other to say something, to address the elephant in the room. 

Azzi breaks first, “something you wanted to say?”

“Just wanted some air,” Paige says, cringing a little bit at the cliché line that she’s now used twice in one night. 

“Right,” Azzi nods, moving towards the door, “guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Her voice is tinged with an iciness that sets Paige on edge. They haven’t been like this in a while and she’d thought they’d let go of the resentful exes gimmick they’d had going on for the first couple of years. But the hardness in Azzi’s tone suggests that it’s back with vengeance tonight. 

“Az-” Paige calls out. 

“What?” Azzi asks loudly, biting her lip when the harshness of it almost makes the blonde stumble back, “sorry I-”

But before she can apologize, Paige finds herself retaliating with the same hardness in her own tone, “what’s your fucking problem?”

“My problem?” Azzi reels back, eyes flashing with anger, “are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes. That’s clearly what I asked,” Paige retorts. 

Azzi laughs devoid of emotion, “I woke up to an empty bed this morning and you’re asking me what my fucking problem is?”

Guilt inches it’s way up Paige’s spine but it pales in comparison to the anger that flickers in the pit of her stomach, “oh that’s rich coming from you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is that not exactly what you did last time we fucked,” the profanity tastes acetous as it falls through Paige’s lips because it sounds wrong, like she’s insulting the sanctity of their relationship, no matter how broken it might be. 

“No it’s not,” Azzi nostrils flare, “I told you I was leaving. I had the common fucking decency to let you know. I didn’t just sneak out.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “oh spare me the semantics. It’s all the same shit at the end of the day. We both left.”

“Oh fuck you Paige,” Azzi snarls as she tries to leave but Paige is quicker, fingers wrapping around her wrist to stop her. 

And everything she’d been prepared to say dies in her throat because now they’re too close, chests heaving in harmony as their matching glares turn into something else. Paige’s eyes fall to Azzi’s lips, breath hitching when the brunette’s tongue darts out for a second to wet them. She tugs on Azzi’s wrist experimentally, pleased when there’s little hesitation and the younger woman lets herself be pulled closer. The air is electric with want as they lean in slowly, their noses brushing against each other as they wait for each other to make a move, to close the distance. 

But then there’s the sound of someone clearing their throat,  followed by someone else coughing and the two of them spring apart like they’ve been burned.

“Jesus Az, careful!” Jana’s concerned voice makes Paige’s ears perk up and she follows the Egyptians line of sight to see that Azzi had moved back so fast that she’d  fallen back against the balcony railing. 

“I’m fine,” Azzi says hurriedly but the shake in her voice betrays that she’s anything but. 

“Are you?” Paige turns to find Aaliyah watching them with the wary gaze of someone who’s been around them and their bullshit far too long, “because uh- we can hear y’all yelling from inside.”

Azzi’s eyes shoot up, panic evident on her face, “you heard us? Did you- could you hear what we said?”

Paige scoffs loudly, “oh right yeah because that would be really fucking bad wouldn’t be it Azzi? God forbid anyone found out you fucked me.”

And she doesn’t even know why she’s arguing -honestly she’s just as embarrassed at the idea of their teammates and rivals and everyone else in between actually overhearing their argument- but it pinches a nerve and she pointedly looks away from Azzi’s ashen face. 

“You guys fucked?” Paige flinches at how loud Jana is and Aaliyah lets out a low groan. 

“Jana,” the Canadian warns, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Sorry but like,” Jana looks back and forth between Paige and Azzi, dropping her voice, “y’all fucked?”

Paige sighs, feeling drained as she leans back against a pillar for support, “that’s what I said yes.”

If possible, Jana’s eyes get even wider, “so- so what does that mean for the two of you? Are you- are y’all gonna get back together?”

Azzi looks at Paige. 

Paige looks at Azzi. 

And it’s like they’re both imploring each other to answer Jana’s question and to answer it right. 

“It means nothing,” it’s the wrong answer and Paige knows it even before she says it -can tell by the way Azzi barely reacts that she knows Paige doesn’t even really believe herself- but she thinks maybe they’re not quite ready to get it right. Not yet. 

“Well there you go,” Azzi says quietly, shrugging nonchalantly at Jana, “it means nothing.”

Paige flinches at the repetition of her own words, looking away as Azzi starts walking towards the door again. The brunette’s shoulder brushes against the older woman’s -sparks igniting around them- and she hesitates. 

“It means nothing,” Azzi repeats, her voice a longing whisper only meant for Paige’s ears, “but maybe it could’ve meant something. If you’d stayed.”

***

June 2033

Paige is sulking in her room -watching film to distract herself from the images of Clémence, Azzi and Stephie together from last night that her brain is hellbent on conjuring up- when her pity party is broken up by the sound of her doorbell. She has the urge to ignore it, to stay curled up in the same position she’s been in all day. It’s a rather pathetic way to have spent one of her rare days off but it’s the only thing she’d felt like doing. But then whoever’s outside her door starts to press the bell longer and Paige huffs -irritated by the loudness of it- as she forces herself out of bed. 

She’s not sure who she was expecting. Perhaps Jana, who’d caught on rather quickly to what was happening between her two former teammates and had been making somewhat of an attempt to help fix it. Maybe Colleen, here to knock some sense into her on Azzi’s behalf. Or maybe even Tessa, who Paige had learned in the most awkward way, knew about them when the former Gamecock had made a teasing remark about the two of them the next practice, not knowing what had transpired two nights before. When both Paige and Azzi had immediately tensed, instead of blushing or rolling their eyes, Tessa had been perceptive enough to understand something had gone wrong. She’d been trying to help Jana ever since and Paige half expects it to be her at the door with words of wisdom and comfort alike. 

Who she isn’t expecting is Tim Fudd. 

His wife, she would’ve understood. After all Katie had done exactly that before and it was in the older woman’s nature to meddle just a little bit. Her husband, on the other hand, tended to stay as far out of things as possible. He could be a hovering coach and whenever Azzi’s spirits were low, he’d be there with a ridiculous dad joke and arms outstretched for a big bear hug. But when it came to his daughter’s personal life, Tim Fudd did his best not to interfere. 

Tim smiles at Paige when she opens the door, one hand holding up a bottle of whiskey with a grin on his face while his other hand is hidden behind his back. He rolls his eyes fondly when he notices the skeptical look Paige shoots at his liquor of choice before he reveals the premade bottle of dirty Shirley he’s been hiding behind his back. 

“Tsk tsk,” he grins mockingly, “what would the fans say if they knew their big bad rizzler can’t drink anything but a sweet cocktail?”

Paige shakes her head as she steps aside to let the man inside, “just cause I don’t drink cheap whiskey, doesn’t mean I don’t drink anything other than cocktails.”

“Cheap?!” Tim guffaws as the accusation, “I’ll have you know this is a Macallan.”

“You know that hat means nothing to me right,” Paige says as she follows his lead into her kitchen. 

It’s almost foreign having somebody else in her space. Since Drew had left -rather hesitantly after seeing his sister’s condition- the house had been devoid of anyone else but Paige. Jana had tried to invite herself over a couple of times but it had gone in vain when Paige had chosen solitude over any company. It’s not that she particularly wants to be alone, it’s that she thinks -no, she knows- that there’s only two people who can cure this dreadful loneliness that feels like it’s become an innate part of existence. 

“Sit,” Tim says as he rummages through Paige’s cupboards for two glasses. 

Hesitating for a split second, Paige does as she's told, “did Azzi send you?”

“Are you hoping she did?’ Tim asks pointedly as he places two glasses one top of the counter, filling one with whiskey and other with dirty Shirley. 

Paige swallows as she accepts the drink from his hand, “nah,” lies, “ just uh- just feels like something she’d do.”

Tim looks at her for a minute as he takes a sip of his whiskey. 

“She didn’t send me,” he says finally and Paige tries to mask the tinge of disappointment his words send through her by taking a large swig of her shirley. 

“This tastes like shit,” she grimaces, wiping her mouth with the back of hand. 

“That premade stuff usually does. It’s that easy shit you know? The things that just exist without you doing any work. Just doesn’t hit the same as the harder stuff,” Tim says slowly as he leans back against his chair, a clear double meaning in his words. 

“You’re using alcohol as a metaphor? So I guess Katie sent you then?” Paige manages a half-smile but she feels her stomach churn at the implication of what he’d just said. 

Tim laughs, “it was my idea actually.”

“Her meddling rubbing off on you?” Paige quirks an eyebrow. 

Tim shakes his head, “I’m not here to meddle. Just wanted to tell you a story.”

Paige sighs, “so you are here to meddle then.”

Tim ignores her, fiddling with the glass of whiskey in his hands, “did you know Katie and I almost didn’t end up together?”

Paige stares at the older man in shock. Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised; relationships were complicated after all. But for all the years she’d known Tim and Katie, they’d always been just that. TimAndKatie. The epitome of stableness that had stood strong amongst all the other relationships Paige had watched break down one by one.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Tim says lightly when he notices how wide Paige’s eyes have gotten, “everyone makes mistakes. We’re all capable of doing dumb shit that almost makes us lose everything we’ve ever loved.”

Paige gulps, “what- what did you do?”

“I left,” Tim says slowly. 

“You left?” the familiar words make Paige nauseous and she wonders if that slightly regretful look on Azzi’s dad’s face is echoed on her own. 

“It was a couple months into our relationship and Katie and I had a huge fight. It was about her not letting me make a decision about Azzi,” Tim explains and the similarity of the situation almost makes Paige want to block her ears. 

“It was something small, something stupid. Probably nothing that even mattered cause I don’t even remember it. But I remember how I felt. I was really fucking mad but more than anything I think- I think I was scared. Because that argument, it was a remind that even though I loved her so fucking much, Azzi wasn’t mine. Not yet. And that if I lost Katie, I’d lose her too. The idea of losing Katie was scary enough but losing both of them? I didn’t know how to deal with that,” Tim's voice shakes, like he’s relieving his biggest fears and Paige feels her own eyes start to water; his words settling salt in her still-raw open wounds. 

“And it got so heated and we were yelling all this bullshit at each other that eventually I just- I didn’t know what else to do and I just- I started to leave. And Azzi- I guess we were so loud we woke her up- she- she saw me leaving,” there’s an unfamiliar grave look on the normally jovial old man’s face as he reminisces that night, “she ran down the stairs and threw herself at my knees begging me not to go but I- I was so mad and so fucking scared that I walked away anyways.”

“How- how did you fix it?” Paige asks, her voice almost pleading as she wipes away the droplets of water running freely down her cheeks. 

“Well not immediately that’s for sure,” Tim cracks a smile, trying to lighten the mood, “took me a little bit of time to pull my head out of my ass and when I finally did, Katie wasn’t so quick to forgive me for it either. And it wasn’t about her or me or us, it was about Azzi. The first time I showed up, she didn’t even let me in. Said she could only let me through that door again if I could promise to stay. Because Azzi had seen me leave once and she wasn’t gonna let her see it again.”

“It must’ve killed you,” Paige whispers, her stomach twisting in knots, “the guilt of hurting her.”

Tim nods, “it did but I think- or at least I hope I’ve made up for it now.”

“You have,” Paige reaches over to squeeze his arm gently, “how did you get her to forgive you?”

“Simple,” Tim places his own hand over hers as he continues, “we talked it out. I explained all my fears to her. How scared I was of losing her, of losing Azzi. And she- she understood because she was scared too, scared of losing me, scared of Azzi losing me. In the end we were both scared of the same thing but all of that got a whole lot less scary when we faced it together.”

Maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together

“How did you get over it,” Paige asks, almost desperately, “the fear of losing them? How did you move past that?”

Tim smiles wistfully, “time. Not time apart but time together. It wasn’t easy taking that first step, facing that fear but I knew if I wanted them, it was what I was gonna have to do. And I had to trust Katie, that if I stayed, she’d stay.”

“And she stayed,” Paige says softly. 

“Yeah she did,” this time, Tim’s grin breaks through his entire, “and the more time she stayed, the more my trust in her grew until one day I just knew. I knew she wasn’t gonna leave ever again. Well, maybe she’s thought about it a couple of times like when I nearly burnt the house down tryna make cookies or when I accidentally tore a hole in our wall tryna hang up a photo frame. 

Paige lets out a watery laugh as Tim winks at her, everything suddenly seeming a lot more simple than it had before the older man had walked through her door. 

“I know it’s not quite the same for you and Azzi,” Tim continues slowly, “you guys have a history that Katie and I didn’t. You both have more reasons to be scared than the two of us did. But Paige, I’ve always thought you were it for my baby girl. From the moment she came back from USA camp and all she could talk about was you, I just knew.”

Paige can’t help the broken sob that escapes her lips and Tim immediately rounds the kitchen counter to wrap an arm around her shoulder. 

“When she was pregnant with Stephie, she kept on asking for mint-choc chip ice cream. Said it was a craving or something. And she decorated everything for her in purple. All the baby clothes she bought were shades of purple,” he doesn’t quite say why Azzi did all of that but there’s a clear implication in his words. 

And Paige thinks that probably,  why she and Stephie are so similar, why they shared so many favorites, why the little girl had always felt like hers. Because Azzi had given a part of Paige to her daughter, even when she hadn’t had Paige herself. 

“Katie and Azzi, they’re mine but I think- I think if maybe someone else had gotten to them first -someone who loved them just as much as I do- maybe there’s a chance things would be different but Paige,” Tim squeezes the younger woman gently, “I think Azzi’s always been waiting for you. Subconsciously at least. There’s never really been anybody elese for her. Her and Stephie, they’ve both always been waiting for you, they’ve both always been yours.”

“You mean that?” Paige asks croakily and she feels like she’s a teenager again, asking Tim to pinky promise that he’d like her box-dyed purple hair no matter what. 

“I do,” Tim smiles as he looks at her, “and I think they’ll be yours forever. I think they want to be. You just have to say you’ll stay.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To Those Who Wait 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as non/dubcon, virginity loss, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are tired of being the safe one so you decide to pay for some excitement.

Characters: escort!Ransom Drysdale, Curtis Everett

Note: yeah, I couldn’t resist.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Tony loves himself. Take care. 💖

'Morning, sunshine.' 

The sarcasm burns into every letter. You stick your tongue out and type your reply. You lay in the dim of your drawn curtains, still half-nestled in your bed. 

'Morning, sparky.' 

Curtis' response makes you giggle. 'Sparky?' 

No emojis. He's not the type. You laze despite the minutes ticking by. Your thumbs flick over the digital keys. 

'Give it but can't take it.' 

The next bubble has you breathless; 'oh I'm more than willing to give'. Oh, okay. You don't know how to answer that. You send a wink emoticon then prompty groan at your own cluelessness. 

You lock the screen and sit up. Is this what life is? Torturous obligation and cringey efforts to be normal. You want to send a message telling Curtis it's okay if he just gives up. You're a mess.  

You drag yourself out of your room. As you try to empty the reusable filter for the coffee grounds, you spill it everwhere. You need to start emptying it after use. Another missed checkbox. 

Your phone buzzes again. Great. You're sure it's just him calling you lame. You snatch the cell and go to swipe away the message but it isn't Curtis. 

WhatsApp. 

Hm. Maybe another recruiter cold messaging? 

You tap with your thumb, resolved to finally delete the app and wipe the slate clean. You just need to forget that mistake. If you can. 

The message waiting for you doesn’t bode well. 

‘Feeling thirsty yet?’ 

You stare at it. You can’t be sure it’s Hugh. The number isn’t the same, you would recognise the last few digits at least. The coffee machine spits out the last few droplets. You turn to grab your cup, the phone buzzing in your hand. 

You read with dread, ‘ah come on, just one more go.’ 

It has to be him. Who else could it be? What else could they be referring to? 

A video pops up and plays automatically. You click it to make it bigger as you try to make out what’s going on. Your heart drops and your phone nearly does too. You stare at the recording of yourself on the bed, undressing as you huddle near the top of the hotel bed. 

A cold splash sends a chill through you. You remember him turning on the speaker. He must have connected his phone but then you didn’t see what he did with it after that. You didn’t think to pay attention to that, you were too swept up in your own catastrophe. 

‘Let’s talk.’ 

Those two words spike your panic. What did you do? You’re so stupid and yet how are you surprised? Nothing ever goes right. How dare you even try to believe things could get better? That maybe Curtis could be something more than a disappointment. 

Loser. Loser. Loser! 

You want to bang your head on the counter. You want to scream. You want to crumple into a heap in cry. 

You don’t do anything of that. You simply key into the screen; ‘why?’ 

He sends a laughing emoji. Then a real message. ‘That’s what we’re going to talk about.’ 

Your eyes glaze with tears and you shake your head. He’s taunting you. Toying with you. This is all just an ego stroke for some narcissist that gets off on himself. Why else would he do what he does? Well, who are you to judge? You paid for his services. 

‘That cafe near your office. 12:30.’ 

You toss the phone on the counter like it’s acid. What the hell? How does he know where you work? How does he know there’s a cafe there? No, no, no. How does he know anything about you? Why does he care? 

You pace around hectically. You can’t stay still. You scratch your skin as if you might peel it off. An unbearable itch burns through you. You make a noise somewhere between a sob and a wretch. 

You reel in your doom, just enough to retrieve the cell from the floor. You shakily send a thumbs up. That’s all you can manage. Not a good job, just a confirmation. You’ll be there because you have no other choice. 

⛅

Your morning is frantic. You have a thousand things to do at once. The phone calls are endless and Shania double-booked another reservation. Don’t you always get the happy job of informing the guests they have to rebook. Fun, fun, fun. 

The demanding customers are the least of your problems. Work at the Travel Agency can be downright agony but right now you prefer it to the alternative. It’s the rare instance where you curse the clock for going too fast. 

Usually, a trip down to the cafe is your relief. An indulgence on an especially stressful day. That day is more nerve-wracking than any but you don’t think a dose of caffeine would make it any better. You’re already rattling through to your bones. 

You reluctantly leave your desk. Your phone is firmly in your purse, where it’s been all day. You don’t want to look at it, even if it’s Curtis making it buzz. You just want to shut down. 

You take the stairs. You don’t want to be around other people though you realise the cafe will be busy with the lunchtime rush. You wonder if that’s deliberate. You get to the ground floor and make your way outside. 

You stop before the cafe. You peer along the tinted windows and your eyes stop on the singular familiar figure. There he is. Hugh. Somehow, he looks different than that night. How, you can’t say. He’s wearing a similar swear, a light robin’s egg blue, luxurious even. The sweater can’t be cheap given the small logo embroidered on one side of the chest. 

You enter and skip the line. You go straight to the table and stop behind the chair opposite...him. You cross your arms and glare at him. Hugh casually lifts his chin and smiles up at you. Your forehead wrinkles in disgust. 

“You look wound tight,” he sits up completely, the last consonant sharp. “Need help with that?” 

Your nostrils flare and you drag out the chair. You drop into the seat and push your elbows into the table. You lean across it and snarl, “what do you want?” 

He snorts, “I like that about. Always straight to the point... even when you have no idea what you’re doing.” 

Your cheeks tingle with heat and you look away. You push your shoulders back and shift in discomfort. Even as the bruises fade, if you think hard enough, you can feel that night still. 

“That boyfriend know about me yet?” He sips from the tall porcelain cup in front of him. You shake your head and put your eyes to the table. 

“Aw, well, I can’t blame you,” he clinks the cup down. “He wouldn’t be able to handle the competition. Would he?” 

“I have to get back to work so whatever you want, just say it.” 

He chortles again and hums, “I said I wanna talk. We’re talking. Isn’t it nice?” 

“I don’t have money if that’s what you’re getting at--” 

“Money? Hm, that’s real funny. Oh, you think... you think I’m desperate? I wanted some Balenciaga.” He flicks a finger up and down the mug handle. “Thanks for that, by the way.” 

You huff and shake your head, “and it’s better that you get off on embarrassing me? Well, I hope you’re enjoying it because you’ve done a great job.” 

You peek up at him and his grin slants. He leans an elbow on the table as he sits forward. His eyes crinkle as he considers you. 

“It’s not about money, not even about a joke,” he says. “It’s the way you squeezed me. The way you whined for me,” his voice lowers to a sultry rasp. “The way you drained me fucking dry. You know how many princesses I’ve had on my dick and they just lay there and--” He makes a motion with his hand, “dead fish.” 

You frown, “you’re gross.” 

“I’m secure in myself,” he argues. “Real rich of you to act like you didn’t like it when you came all over my fucking fingers. Didn’t even take much.” 

You rub your neck and stare out the window. Your stomach is boiling. You just want him to get his kicks and go. 

“It’s how I know you didn’t lie. About being a virgin, or whatever,” he says. “You know, you could’ve sold that yourself but I guess you were having some trouble finding a buyer--” 

“My lunch is almost over,” you grit out. “Get to it, Hugh.” 

He laughs louder than before. He scoops up his cup and drains it. “You’re so funny. Really. You make me laugh.” You glower and his smirks widens. “Alright, alright. Pretty simple, you probably already know what I want. Just one more time. I just need to feel it again. That grip--” He makes a fist and you scoff. 

“I told you I’m not interested--” 

“No? Not interested at all in your porn debut,” he taps his phone and you reach across to swat his hand back. 

“Why did you do that?” You hiss. 

“Woah, I gotta be safe. I record in case something goes wrong,” he pushes your hand away. “Lucky me, it went so fucking right. You know how many times I’ve watched it?” 

You groan and rest your head in your hands. You’re fucked. Utterly and totally. Likely literally. 

“Tonight,” he says. “Tell the goth boy you’re doing overtime.” 

You sit back and stare at him. Your chest pits and your eyes glimmer. It shouldn’t hurt so much but it does. You don’t want to lose Curtis, not yet. 

This is exactly why you didn’t want to get attached. 

☕

You don't text Curtis. You can't bring yourself to do it. You just leave him hanging. He'll probably assume your busy. You're sure he has something better to do. 

Just like most things in your life, it's over before it begins. Why did you let yourself believe it could be anything? After tonight, it definitely won't be. 

That time is different. You don't primp yourself or preen over whether you look good. Instead, you toss all those things you bought to do yourself up the first time in the trash. Everything but the condoms. 

You pace restlessly around your apartment. That's another violation. You offered another hotel. 'Your place.' The argument was short. Fuck. 

He can't come here. He can't do this. You can't do this. Not again. 

Your legs wobble and you teeter to the couch. You sit down and fold over your knees. You can feel the dull pain already. Back in that room, bawling as he pumps into you, scraping out your guts. 

You're going to be sick! 

You lurch up and run to the bathroom. You spew into the toilet and pant through the acidic saliva left in your mouth. You shut the lid and flush. 

You should leave the residue in your mouth. It might repulse Hugh enough to get rid of him. Yet if you don't rinse out the acidic flavour, you'll just hurl again. 

You brush your teeth slowly then look at yourself in the mirror. You look scared. You are but you look utterly terrified. Why is this happening to you? 

You're not stupid enough to think you're special. No, you're weak. He's a shark and he smelled blood in the water. He set you up for this. You were too nervous, too desperate, and too stupid to see through his ploy. 

Your phone buzzes. You ignore it, even as it thrums against the table noisily. If it's Curtis, you might just cry. 

The door buzzer chirps. Right. You push away from the sink and shudder.  

Your feet hit the floor clumsily and you walk as if you're wadding through thick mud. You hit the button as your stomach churns again. His voice adds to the broil of sickness. 

"Baby, I'm here." 

You press the button down without as response. You stagger away and linger by the door. You hear him coming down the hall. You open the door at the first knock. 

"Someone's eager," he snickers. 

You don't say a word. You step back. He enters and whistles. 

"Not bad. Cozy," he says. "Bouta get real cozy, huh?" 

You shut the door and lock it. He turns and examines the walls. You stare at him. 

"Jeez, baby, you got a knife or something? Looking like you're about to crack up over there," he taunts. 

That might have been a good idea if you weren't nervous of stabbing yourself in an attempt. Besides, he's a lot stronger. You remember how thick his muscle was, how easily he ignored your pleas. 

"Hospitable too," he sniffs and slips off his velvet loafers. "Whatcha got going on?" He struts further into the apartment. "Wine? Beer?" 

He goes to fridge and pops it open. You loom like a shadow against the wall as you tiptoe after him. He sucks his teeth as he examines the contents on the racks. 

"Ugh, boring," he remarks.  

"Don't drink," you croak. 

"You didn't seem to mind the wine," he shuts the fridge without his bounty. "Fuck, well, it'll be good. You'll like it better sober. Although I do prefer a sloppy fuck." 

You grimace. He makes no pretense as he continues his exploration. He strides past the living room and head through your bedroom door. 

"No cute jammies tonight, huh?" He calls through. 

You waft into the doorway like a ghost. That's what you are. You are hollowed out. You resign yourself, surrender yourself to ruin. It's all over. 

Goodbye, Curtis. 

"Looks like you don't got much in mind but don't worry, baby, I planned ahead," he faces you with a wink. "Wanna try something new?" 

No. You don’t want to do any of this. You glower. 

“Shit, baby, you keep looking at me like that and I’m going to have to wipe that look off your face... along with something else,” he grabs his crotch and growls. “Hard already, you know? Just thinking about what I’m about to do.” 

Your lip curls as disgust crawls up your back. “Just get it over with,” you murmur. 

“Trying,” his eyes flash dangerously. The retort makes you think of Curtis but he never spoke to you so harshly. 

You step out of the doorway before you can fall apart. Your breath clouds in your chest until it feels like someone’s standing on you. You let it out slowly as plays with the black cat figuring on your bookshelf. He scoffs, unimpressed. 

“So,” he faces you and tugs at the hem of his sweater, inching it up, “why are your clothes still on?” 

You glance away angrily. “Your phone goes in the drawer,” you point to the night stand. 

“Pfft, come on. I already got the good shots. What’s another dirty movie, baby? I gotta say, you look good on film--” 

“Put it in the drawer,” you insist.  

“Damn, don’t gotta be so mean, baby.” He snickers and wiggles his phone at you then puts it in the night stand. 

“I’m not your joke, so stop laughing at me.” 

“Lighten up. I’m not laughing at you, baby. I just...” He pauses as he pulls his sweater over his head. He wears a thin white tank underneath, his reddish chest hair peeking out the top. “How many women do you think hold my attention once I’ve been in ‘em? Let’s just say, we both had our first that night.” 

“Don’t try to flatter me,” you snip. 

“Girl,” he squares his shoulder and the humour flickers from his expression, “get your clothes off.” 

Your mouth twitches. You take a breath and turn away. You look down at the wrinkled blouse you wore to work. You’re sure he’s full of hot air, he’s just mocking you, especially since he’s wearing Calvin Klein and you’re in Walmart clearance. 

You unbutton it as you hear his clothing rustle softly. A shiver speckles across your back as you throw it in your hamper. Your pants go just as easily as you push down the elastic waistband. Another wave of nausea threatens but you keep it down. 

You unhook your bra as your bed squeaks. You keep your eyes down and step out of your panties. You pause as you dangle them over the basket. You blink away the heat in your eyes. Why did you run away from Curtis all those times? Why does it have to be Hugh? 

You spin and march over to him. He sits on the end of the bed, naked, knees wide. You reach for him, intent to be done with him, but he catches your hands and holds them away from him. 

“Uh uh, you really think it’s going to be that easy,” he sneers. “Oh, baby, I didn’t get any of that mouth.” 

Your lip quivers and your nose scrunches, “what?” 

“Don’t worry, it’s fun, baby. I can train you up for the sad boy,” he chuckles. 

“Shut up,” you twist away from him. “Don’t talk about him.” 

“Aw, what’sa matter? He don’t make you wet like I do, huh?” 

You stomp away and snatch the box of condoms from behind your dresser. You take one and bring it to him. He snorts. 

“You like the taste of rubber?” 

“Put it on.” 

“You think I’m dirty? You saw my test results.” 

“I don’t care,” you shove it into his chest. 

“Be a lot nicer if you tasted the real thing,” he huffs. 

You cross your arms and wait. He rolls his eyes and peels the wrapper open. He pinches the thick ring then presses the rubber to his tip. 

“Well, get on your knees. You’re the one so anxious to get this done with. Is the boy toy on his way? Scared he’ll catch—woah!”  

He lets go of himself and the condom rolls up just to his tip. He catches your hand before you can make contact with his cheek. “I told you not to talk about him.” 

“I like this zest,” He stands and raises your arms above you, “but you won’t like mine.” 

He spins you and pushes you onto the bed. You fall heavily and bounce, your teeth snapping down on your tongue. You whimper as he slides his fingers around his dick, pushing the rubber to his base. He climbs up on his knees, straddling you as he advances up your body. 

You push on his thighs as he gets higher. Once more, he has your wrists. He clasps them against the mattress, locking them above your head. You flail your legs and he laughs again. His other hand goes to his length and he strokes himself as he presses the lubed condom to your lips. 

“Open up for daddy,” he jeers and pushes until he meets your teeth. “I feel the hint of a nip and I’ll skip the kitty and go straight for the peach. Understand that, baby girl?” 

Your eyes widen as your bottom puckers. Your fear radiates from your gaze and draws another pleased hum from him. You open your mouth and close your eyes, gagging as the rubber smears lube across your tongue. 

He angles as he dips down, touching your reflex as he invades your throat. You choke and spasm under him as he wiggles his hips, testing your limits. You can’t breathe. 

He rears and you heave in before he blocks your airway again. He groans and tilts again. Thrusting in and out as you writhe. Tears crest along the brims of your eyes and your saliva smears around your mouth. Each time, he pushes a little further. 

“Fuck, baby, how is it just as good as the pussy?” He purrs as he clutches your hair, rocking over you as the smell of the condom adds to your revulsion. 

He pumps into you until you’re raw with agony. He lets go of your hands and you push on his hips, begging for him to stop. He doesn’t care. He just keeps going. He quakes and groan, grasping the blankets around your head as he fucks you your head into the bed. 

“Gahhh,” he pulls out of you so quickly you gag. 

You cover your mouth as he bounces over you. He rolls the condom off and keeps stroking himself. You’re surprised as he spurts his cum onto you, the slimy mess string over your knuckles and onto your nose and cheeks. You put your hand out to shield yourself as he grunts and sits back on his heels. 

“The hell?” You gasp. 

“I couldn’t fucking hold it, woulda split the damn thing in half,” he puffs as he cups his balls. “Speaking of splitting things in half--” 

You lift yourself on your elbows, trying to drag yourself out from under him. He snags you around your ribs and pushes you flat. “Where are you going?” 

“You just--” 

“Finished? No, that’s round one,” he snickers. “You don’t think I got a few tricks? I mean, a blue pill keeps me in business.” 

You curl your lip again and he laughs even louder. You glance up at the night table at the box of condoms. He sighs. 

“Fucking tight ass,” he hisses. “Want me to see if that’s literal?” You look at him and bare your teeth. He waves you off and climbs off you to grab the box. “Whatever. At least you had the good sense to get good ones.” 

You slowly sit up and wipe your face. He leans on one knee and slides on another condom. He quivers and exhales through his nose. He grabs your shoulder and nudges you. 

“Wouldn’t mind it from the back,” he says. 

You resist and he snarls, “relax. If I go through the back door, I might not get it out with you being so uptight.” He pinches your nipple cruelly. “Go on, show Ransom that booty.” You tilt your head curiously. Ransom? His eyes dart away, “you gonna listen to daddy or you want some spankings while I’m back there?” 

You move reluctantly. You roll over and he grabs your hips, guiding your ass higher as he jostles behind you. He drags his hands around your ass and down your thighs, then up again. He smacks you harshly so you feel the jiggle. You yelp and he guffaws. 

“Oh, fuck, should flipped you over the first time.” He gropes your ass and rubs himself against you. 

Your insides curdle. You hide in yourself. You try not to think about reality. Not about the desecration of your home, your safe space, of the place you made all your own. Nor the same being done to your body. To your relationship. 

Whatever, it was never going to last. 

He glides down between your cheeks, lingering as if considering it. You twitch and he snorts. He trails further down and presses against your cunt. He groans as he stretches you slowly. It isn’t easier. Not better. Not like they say. 

No, they say the first time is the worst. No, this is. This is torture. This is hell. 

He leans into you, grunting as you squeeze him, as your body resists his intrusion. He bends over you, his torso flush to your back, and thrusts. He impales you complete and you cry out. You push against him as your body racks in agony. 

He pumps again and you squeal louder. Fuck. Your fingers curl until your knuckles hurt. You hang your head and shudder. He rocks into you, playing with your hair as he nuzzles your nape. He puffs into your skin and it sends a roil of disgust through you. 

You sink down until your face is in the blankets. You crush your arms beneath you and drone into the bed. He hooks his arm under you to keep your ass up, rutting faster and faster. Your flesh claps like thunder, a never-ending cacophony. 

He growls and brings a hand under your chin, then his other. You wriggle as he squeezes your face and hooks his fingers in your mouth, pulling taught your lips. You arch your back and whine as he keeps his callous pace. 

You grab onto his arms as the strain in your lips feels as if it might tear. He lifts your head and you deepen the curve in your back, trying to balance him at both ends. His nose tickles the back of your ear. 

“Yeah, baby, squeeze me just like that. Ugh, that pussy knows what it wants better than you do,” he taunts. “Ugh, you latched on tight.” 

You can’t speak, you can’t shake your head, you can’t deny him in any way. 

“You feel so good,” he snarls. “The way you go me... fuck I feel it in my gut... I’m gonna...”  

He slides his hands from your mouth and wraps his arms around you instead; one at your neck, the other around your middle. He pulls you up with him and pounds relentlessly. The bed rocks furiously beneath you as your addled voice gurgles from your throat. The headboard knocks into the wall in a frenetic tempo. 

“Yeah, so good,” he rasps between deep breaths. “So good. Never... think I’d let you go, huh?” 

You hang from his embrace. Defeated. You did this to yourself. So take it. 

[revelboo]

Boo-thing (afectionate) you are a blessing to us who need our cybertronian fill. I started with Ratchet, but now I'm just slowing reading everything. You are fanominal. I hope one day I have half the talent and bravery as you do to post writings.

Do it! Write all the things you love!

18+ Mass displaced mech 🌶️

The Weakends Pt 12

TFP Ratchet x Reader

• Still in the hall, pinned to the closed door to his quarters, you’re at least out of sight of the main area as his mouth slides against yours. Big servos fumbling to figure out your clothes when you won’t let go of him, actually digging your heels into him as he growls in frustration. Finally giving in and tearing the material as you start laughing again until his mouth opens against your throat to force your head back, glossa sliding against skin.

• If you’d had any idea he was this pent up and frustrated? You’d have teased him mercilessly until he snapped. Because now that he has? You’re almost overwhelmed by him, those big, strong hands tearing your pants, your shirt. Know you should probably be alarmed by the almost frantic urgency of his movements, like he’s going to die if he doesn’t get inside you right now. And you hope he has a way to do that. At this point not caring if it’s his servos, his mouth, anything as you squirm against him while he pins you. Growling as his hands return to your hips and shift you, you feel something hard slide against you, want to see what it is, but then he’s driving up into you as you cry out.

• Groaning as you take his spike deep, your wet, silken heat gripping him, he begins to move inside you. And this isn’t how he’d envisioned this going the times he’s caught himself daydreaming about you. Always assumed he’d lay you down on his berth, explore you with his mouth. Not lose control rutting against you in the hall where anyone might see. But he can’t stop either as you cry out, fingers digging into his seams when you buck against him.

• There’s going to be bruises, feeling his hips snapping relentlessly against yours, your back and butt hitting his door as he snarls and you can’t even care. Dimly aware that you’re chanting the word ‘please,’ in between breathy moans and cries. And he’s growling to you, so lost in fucking you that it’s not even in your language, but his. His mouth finds your throat, his denta gripping you as he pounds into you.

• What is it about you that makes him lose all control? Fragging you with a desperation that’s almost frightening as your head falls back against the door, legs tightening around his waist. And then you’re crying out, tightening on him until it’s hard to keep thrusting inside you, chasing after you as you milk his spike. He groans against your sweat slicked skin as his palm slams against the door. Driving deep, releasing inside you. Dimly aware of something hitting the floor and heavy peds quickly retreating, but can’t even begin to care. Needed this more than he realized. Needed you.

Previous

[kangshxrtie]

12 . mansion party (written)

after the mandatory pregame at matthew's house, your group piled into ricky's car and headed to the party.

"do i just go up there and say i know daniela?" you asked, the nerves creeping into your voice.

"i mean, yeah. she literally told you to do that," yunjin replied, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"what if i just text her?" you said, already pulling out your phone.

"you could, but what are the chances she'll answer? since she is the host and all," ricky said, giving you a skeptical look.

"she answered," you said, cutting him off and unbuckling your seatbelt with a smug grin. "she's coming out to meet us."

"oh..." ricky trailed off, stepping out of the car, clearly impressed.

"that girl is so down bad," julie whispered, not very quietly, to the group.

"seriously," matthew agreed.

as you all approached the massive house, you couldn't help but take in the luxurious mansion. you scanned the crowd near the entrance, eventually spotting daniela looking around like a lost puppy. the moment she saw you, her face lit up, and she walked toward you like a magnet.

"go meet your girlfriend," ricky teased, giving you a playful nudge that made you glare at him.

"stop saying that," you hissed, but your feet were already moving. you met daniela halfway, and the bright smile she gave you made your stomach do an unexpected flip.

"hey, y/n," daniela greeted, her voice soft, almost shy. it threw you off for a second, shy was the last thing you'd expect from someone who owned a mansion and hosted massive parties.

"hi, daniela," you replied with a small smile.

"you can just call me dani. everyone does," she said, shrugging casually.

"okay, dani," you said, trying it out. the way her name rolled off your tongue made her cheeks turn pink. you noticed, and it took everything in you not to smirk.

daniela cleared her throat, trying to snap herself out of it. she handed out wristbands to everyone, specifically taking the time to help you put yours on. her fingers lingered on your wrist just a second longer than necessary, but you didn't mind.

"follow me. i'll give you a quick tour," she said, leading the way into the house. since you'd arrived early, mostly to avoid inconveniencing her later, it was the perfect opportunity to see the place before the crowd rolled in. you tried to convince yourself it wasn't just to spend more time with her.

"so, everyone's first five drinks are on me. after that, you gotta pay," daniela explained as she led you through the impressive space.

"that's fair," yunjin nodded.

"but," daniela added with a smirk, "weed is free all night for everyone."

"except you," she whispered in your ear, her breath warm against your skin. "you have free access to everything all night. i already let sophia know."

"you didn't have to do that," you said, feeling slightly flustered. "i can pay for my own drinks."

"and i want to make sure you're taken care of and having a good time," daniela said, her eyes locking onto yours. her tone was so sincere that you didn't know how to respond right away.

"well... thank you," you finally managed.

"anything for you," daniela said softly, her lips curling into a small smile.

"well we should get some drinks to get tonight started," yunjin said cutting off whatever was happening between you and daniela.

"i guess i should—" you started, but daniela cut you off.

"go. have fun," she said with a small smile. "just let me know if you need anything tonight. seriously. i'll make time."

your stomach fluttered at her words as you turned to join your friends. you couldn't help but glance back at daniela one last time before heading off. she was still standing there, watching you go, her smile soft but unmistakably confident.

once daniela was out of sight, belle immediately started hitting your shoulder, freaking out for you at the interaction.

"you like her," belle accused, eyes wide with a mischievous grin.

"what?" you said.

"she was staring at you the entire time she showed us around," matthew jumped in.

"really?" you asked, your voice coming out a little too eager.

"yes, really," matthew replied, rolling his eyes. "it was so obvious. i'm almost certain she forgot we existed for a while."

"she definitely did," julie chimed in, smirking knowingly. "the whole tour felt like it was for you. i swear she didn't even glance at us when she was explaining stuff."

"stop," you said, shaking your head in denial. "all of that did not happen."

"didn't happen? babe, we were literally there," belle shot back, giving you a pointed look. "that girl is already down bad for you. she was practically flirting the entire time."

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. "you guys are so annoying."

"so, who's making the first move tonight? you or her?" yunjin teased, slinging an arm around your shoulder as the group moved toward the bar.

"neither," you replied firmly, shaking your head. "i just met her. i'm not rushing anything."

"okay, but hear me out," ricky said, leaning casually against the bar counter. "if she's already doing this much to impress you after, what, one week? imagine how much she'll step it up if you give in just a little."

"that's true," julie agreed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "she's already hosting a whole ass party just to have an excuse to see you."

"that's not even true," you said quickly, though your racing heart begged to differ.

"she didn't have to host this party," matthew said smugly, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. "but she did. and we all see why."

you exhaled, "look, i'm just gonna see how tonight goes. i'll think about the rest later."

"that's fair," belle said with a shrug. "it's best not to make decisions like these when you're fucked up."

"exactly," you agreed, leaning on the bar counter as you waited for sophia to finish up with the others' orders. "now we get fucked up."

since it was a mansion party it was a little more fancy and so instead of the usual beer cans and seltzers, sophia was making cocktails and it took more time than usual.

"sophia!" you greeted as she finally came over.

"i was threatened to give you free drinks tonight," sophia said with a grin.

"i told her she didn't have to do that," daniela's voice rang in your mind, and you fought back a smile.

"i would've done it for you guys anyway," sophia continued, sliding drinks across the bar. "but hey, i'm not saying no to getting paid extra."

"to sophia being a real one," belle declared, raising her glass.

"we love her," you added, clinking your glass with hers.

later on, a couple of drinks in, you hadn't really seen daniela since earlier. instead, you'd run into yoonchae and megan, who complimented your outfit and hyped you up before taking some shots with you. eventually, you found your way to lara's dj booth, like usual. you hung out there for a while, chatting and delivering drinks to lara in exchange for song requests.

between the music, the drinks in your system, and probably the secondhand high that you were experiencing, you started to feel more at ease, just going with the vibe. that's when you decided to wander away from the dj booth, weaving through the crowd until you ran into manon.

"hey, manon," you slurred slightly, sidling up to her.

"i've been looking for you," manon said, giving you a playful look. "dani wouldn't let me come over to greet you with her."

"well, you found me," you said with a shrug, leaning against her for a moment.

"so, about that dance?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.

"saved it just for you," you replied with a grin.

the two of you moved to the beat of the music, feeling the alcohol take over your bodies, and losing yourselves in the moment. as you and manon have done this many times there was no awkwardness, just you and manon laughing and dancing through a couple of songs.

that was, until someone slipped between the two of you, causing you and manon to step apart slightly.

"can i cut in?" daniela asked smoothly, her voice soft but confident as she slid into the space between you.

"all yours," manon said with a knowing smirk, backing away as she gestured for daniela to take her spot.

you felt your heart skip a beat as daniela turned to you, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "mind if i steal you for a bit?"

"not at all," you responded.

"i can't leave you alone, apparently," daniela teased as she leaned closer to be heard over the music. "every time i turn around, someone else is getting your attention."

"jealous already?" you shot back, the alcohol letting you flirt back without overthinking it.

"maybe," she admitted, her hand brushing yours as she spoke. "i don't know why you're worried about me when apparently you're the one with hoes."

"not hoes... just a little competition" you joked.

"competition, huh?" daniela chuckled, her tone playful as she raised an eyebrow at you. "looks like i'll have to try harder."

you couldn't help but laugh, "just letting you know i'm not that easy."

"trust me," she said, "i'm not worried."

before you could respond, she gently took your hand, pulling you closer as the beat of the music shifted into something slower and more intimate. the sudden closeness made your breath hitch, and you were hyper-aware of her presence.

"you good with this?" daniela asked softly, her dark eyes searching yours, waiting for a sign.

"yeah," you said, nodding as you let her lead. your hands naturally rested on her shoulders, hers finding your waist. the two of you swayed to the rhythm, forgetting about the rest of the party.

"you look really good tonight," she said after a moment, her low voice becoming softer as she held your gaze, "i mean, you always do, but... yeah."

"thanks. you don't look too bad yourself," you replied, a small smile playing on your lips.

the two of you danced through another song, the tension between you shifting from nervous to comfortable. every glance, every touch, felt intentional, like you were both testing the waters on where this was going.

"can i tell you something?" daniela asked.

"of course," you said.

"i wasn't kidding earlier when i said i wanted to make sure you had a good time tonight," she admitted, her gaze dropping to your hands still resting on her shoulders. "i was hoping i'd be less busy so we could get to know each other, but that didn't turn out like i wanted it to. i just really wanted to get to know you more and i didn't know how else to do that other than a party."

her honesty caught you off guard, but it also made your chest feel warm, like your stomach was doing little flips. "i'm not gonna lie," you replied, meeting her eyes again. "i don't know if i'm just a little fucked up right now, but i'm willing to try this out."

daniela's smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement. "well, how about we get out of here for a bit? not leave the party, just... somewhere quieter."

"lead the way," you said, letting her take your hand again.

she guided you through the crowd, weaving past groups of people until you reached the back patio. the night air was cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the heat of the party inside. a few groups lingered outside, but it was quiet enough to finally hear yourself think.

"better?" daniela asked, leaning against the railing as she looked at you.

"much," you said, taking a deep breath and stepping closer. "i don't have to scream to talk anymore."

"that's true," daniela said with a chuckle. "i've been waiting all night for some one-on-one time with you."

"i bet you were," you said, your confidence growing as the tension between you thickened.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. you could barely hear the music from inside now and the only thing you could focus on was the way daniela looked at you like you were the only person she saw in the room. finally, she broke the silence.

"so... what are you thinking about right now?" she asked, her tone light but curious.

you hesitated, your heart racing as you debated how honest you wanted to be. but something about the way she looked at you made you feel like you wanted to spill out all of your feelings.

"you're just like really pretty and i like the way you look at me," you said finally, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess them. "i also like being near you, you feel comforting to me."

daniela's expression softened, "good," she said after a moment, her voice barely above a whisper. "that means i'm doing something right."

before either of you could say more, the sound of someone clearing their throat broke the moment. you both turned to see matthew standing a few feet away, smirking like he'd just caught you doing something scandalous.

"sorry to interrupt," he said, his tone making it clear he wasn't sorry at all. "but we were wondering where you disappeared to. didn't think i'd find you out here having that kind of moment."

daniela chuckled, shaking her head. "i knew i messed up showing y'all the balcony."

"you're lucky it was me and not yunjin," matthew quipped, shooting you a knowing look. "but belle sent me to find you because, uh, she's doing a keg stand."

"belle?" your eyes widened, and you immediately stepped forward because you had to see this.

grinning, you grabbed daniela's hand and pulled her along without hesitation. she didn't protest, her fingers tightening around yours happy that you included her in this.

matthew guided you through the crowd, weaving through the party until you reached the keg station. your group was gathered there, cheering loudly, with belle front and center, looking far too excited to be sober.

"y/n! you're here!" belle exclaimed, bouncing slightly when she saw you.

"of course i'm here," you said, laughing. "i was not about to miss this."

her gaze shifted to daniela, "and you brought dani? i'm so proud of you!" she declared, looking like she might cry for whatever reason.

"you really are drunk," you muttered, rolling your eyes, but you couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips.

"yall know i get emotiona when i'm drunkl!" belle exclaimed, "you're out here pulling bitches, and i just-i'm so proud. my baby's all grown up."

"we're the same age," you said, trying to wave her off. daniela just chuckled softly next to you.

"okay, okay," belle said, shaking her head like she was pulling herself together and focused on the keg once again.

ricky and matthew stepped in, helping belle into a handstand, their laughter blending with the cheers of everyone around. the crowd started counting loudly as belle began chugging.

"i'm surprised she's lasting this long, she hates beer," julie said, her arms crossed as she watched with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"she's drunk enough to forget that right now," yunjin added, holding up her phone to record.

belle somehow made it to thirty seconds, and the group erupted into louder cheers.

somewhere in that time, daniela's hand found its way to your waist, her touch gentle but firm. you glanced at her, but she didn't say anything, her focus shifting between belle and you, as if she wanted to make sure you stayed close.

belle lasted an impressive full minute before she tapped and ricky and matthew finally helped her down. she stumbled slightly and the group quickly steadied her, as she wiped her mouth.

"who let me do that?" belle groaned dramatically, her face scrunching in disgust. "i hate beer!"

"we tried to stop you," yunjin pointed out, still recording as belle leaned against julie for support. "but apparently you're a grown adult and can make your own decisions."

"still? you should've tried harder," belle muttered.

daniela leaned closer to you, her voice low and teasing. "your friends are crazy."

“yeah… but I need you to know I’m just like that when I get drunk enough,” you said, laughing lightly.

“i’d like to see that,” daniela teased, her gaze lingering on you.

before you could respond, julie chimed in, her voice cutting through the conversation. “i think we need to call it now before belle starts dancing on tables with matthew.”

“that’s probably a good idea,” you agreed, glancing over to where matthew and yunjin had disappeared. you had no clue where those two were off to, but you definitely didn’t trust them drunk and unsupervised.

luckily, belle was still hanging onto julie for dear life, which meant she wasn’t joining in whatever chaos matthew and yunjin were stirring up.

“i’d love to stay, but i’ve got to make sure my friends make it home,” you said, turning to daniela with a small smile.

daniela’s lips quirked up in a soft smirk as she pulled you into a hug. “we just have to go on a real date now,” she said, her voice low and teasing in your ear.

“go be a good host now,” you replied as you pulled back slightly, but daniela’s arms stayed wrapped around your waist, and your arms lingered around her shoulders.

“to be a good host, i’m going to walk you all to your car,” daniela said with a shrug, her smile never wavering.

“oh, will you?” you teased, raising a brow at her.

“just to make sure everybody gets home safe,” she added, finally loosening her hold on you.

“well, i gotta say, i’m liking this treatment,” you said.

“as my future girl you’ll get this kind of treatment at every party,” daniela shot back smoothly.

“who says we’ll even be dating by your next party?” you teased, glancing at her over your shoulder.

“when will it be, by the way?”

“well, i was thinking toward the end of the month, or maybe the beginning of next month,” daniela said casually.

“crazy, i thought you’d be doing a halloween party,” you said with a laugh.

“that was the plan,” daniela admitted. “but i just had this sudden inspiration to throw more parties.”

“oh, i’m glad you did because i love your parties,” you said genuinely.

“i’m glad you do,” daniela replied, her eyes soft as she looked at you.

while you were searching for matthew, daniela got pulled into handling some host duties, which meant the two of you had to be separated. meanwhile, ricky took julie and belle with him, splitting up to look for matthew and yunjin, definitely thinking you were more sober than you actually were. so, you were left to wander mostly on your own.

you eventually found matthew, and of course, he was on top of a table with yunjin, both of them going full-out to crank that. you were beckoned up to join them, and you did because why not, you couldn’t help but laugh as you danced with them. that is, until daniela and ricky appeared, and you were instantly reminded of the whole reason you were even there.

“matthew and yunjin, get down!” you shouted, trying to sound authoritative despite your tipsy state.

“but this is where i belong!” matthew protested dramatically, giving you a grin that was pure mischief.

“you belong in the car, because we’re going home,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

“i could’ve been superman,” matthew said, getting into position as if he was about to jump off the table in a ridiculous superman pose. fortunately, ricky was behind you, catching matthew just before he could do something stupid.

“you too, yunjin!” you called, helping her down.

after successfully wrangling them out of their impromptu performance, you started guiding everyone toward the exit. of course, it took at least ten minutes to leave the house because distractions were endless, mainly people trying to say their goodbyes to you.

eventually, you made it down the street and into the car, with ricky and daniela helping you shepherd everyone into the vehicle. ricky gave daniela a quick thank you as he slid into the driver’s seat, and you realized, since you hadn’t had much to drink after hanging out with daniela, you were starting to sober up and could finally do the whole “goodbye” thing properly.

“goodbye for real this time,” you said as you turned to daniela, your voice soft, though there was a lingering smile on your lips.

“i’m really glad we spent time together tonight, even if it was short,” daniela replied, her voice warm.

“text me when you get home,” you said, giving her a small, meaningful look.

daniela pouted, teasing, “i’m supposed to tell you that.”

“you right,” you said, laughing lightly. “i will most likely already be asleep by the time you get home, so i’ll text you instead.”

with that, you pulled her in for a tight, lingering hug, holding her close for a moment longer than you expected.

“take care, y/n,” daniela said softly into your ear as you pulled away, her fingers brushing lightly across your back.

“you too, dani,” you replied, your smile a little wider now.

you got into the passenger side of ricky’s car and he started the car and pulled away. luckily the rest of the group was too tired to even tease you about your interaction, but you were fine with dealing with that in the morning.

BACK | MAIN | NEXT

TAGLIST 🪩 @saysirhc @wintersgff @sixflame438 @1luvkarina @ihrtantn @yeetaberry127 @urmom2314 @vrtualstar @sed7ction @inybits @ellezra @meganskiendielsbtc @firstclassjaylee @modanisgf @kristalag

[waynes-multiverse]

Aww, glad you enjoyed the first part of this! I tried to capture him as best as I could. I definitely had too much fun with all the twists 😂🤍

(A hot tub in the back, huh? Wayne, stop giving me ideas for ESC one-shots. 🥵🫠)

Yesssss, girl! Please write that!!! 🥵🔥🫠

Ooh yep! You really picked up on aspects of Russell's personality that I felt inherently when I was watching (studying) him, but hadn't consciously put into words. 👌🏽

He's for sure a little enigma 😏 (and a little shit lol) I found it interesting when I read the books that he was described as reclusive, and even though he comes off as charming and quirky in the show, I still get the feeling he's hiding the biggest stuff underneath the surface... I really wanted to showcase that his behavior and words don't always match his feelings and thoughts 👀

It's also so interesting (and crazy) how little Russ and Colter know about each other now as men. There's got to be shades of who they were when they were younger, but it's bittersweet in a sense. And now they're both trying to suss each other out like lone wolves that are kinda sorta friends. 😂

Yesss!!! That's always something I wanted the show to address, so I had to weave it in there! 😂 And considering they grew up pretty isolated and only had each other, it made sense to me they would've had a pretty close relationship as children (kinda like Sam and Dean if they'd ever been ripped apart for 20+ years 🥲)

But naturally, they wouldn't trust one another fully after all this time. I had a lot of fun writing their suspicion mixed in with brotherly banter 🤓

Okay, this whole thing with the reader is fascinating. Because why does he have to go through all this trouble to find her if they've been a thing for 10...12...14...20-something years?! (Love how the number in Russell's "memory" just kept getting longer. 🤣🤣)

Russell giving vague estimates of numbers actually became a running gag lol I used it first in the prequel before sprinkling it in here too 😂😂

Not the "we were on a break" gif 🤣🤣 (But the topic of how broken up they really were comes up in the next part lmao)

I'm full of questions, but I know you have a brilliant master plan for all of this. I've noticed this about the most recent stories you've created, but you're so very good at writing these law enforcement/military men paired with heroines that share their world, almost the "same foxhole" type of deal. Except for that his heroine partners usually outrank him. 😏

Haha thanks!! I honestly think I get hung up too much on details and then it escalates into a monstrosity 😂

And you already now I love all things SVU, crime etc. A year ago, I then got super into spy/CIA novels and media (Homeland, The Americans etc.), so I've been dreaming to write something like this for ages and jumped on the chance with Russell's background 🤓

Lol yes they always outrank him, don't they? I might go with the "tough love" approach a little too much, but I always feel like the Beaus, Deans, Soldier Boys, and Russells of this world need that 😂🫶

Also something about a little submission in a strong guy is a turn-on... 🫠

I tend to go the opposite route, partly because I'm interested in the dynamic between these kinds of men and a "civilian," but also because I don't think I'd be able to do the "same foxhole" trope justice. So that's something I really admire about you as a writer. 💜

Oh, I know! It's actually why I love your stories so much because you go the opposite route of me and I get a different experience. I usually struggle more with the "civilian" characters 😂 For fluffier fics, I go more civilian as well, but I clearly had an agenda for this one lmao

The push and pull banter between Colter and Russ in this chapter was also so fun to read lol. I could literally quote every moment because it was all so well-written and priceless. And it just kept building up the mystery of the reader and why Russell is doing all of this, right up until that awesome cliffhanger!!

Aww, thanks! That means a lot 🥰 I had so much fun writing those two. At some points, they even gave me Sam & Dean vibes 🥲❤️

Thanks so much for that sweet comment, Alex!!! 🤍

Btw, I'm so excited to read the last parts of ATW and the ESC one shots!! I so wanted to read them before the new year, thinking a week-long stay with baby's grandparents would get me some Mommy time, but... family. My husband actually sent me this after we left and I still feel it deeply 😂👇

The Exit Strategy – Part 1

Summary: Russell is ready to hang it all up and retire, open up a brewery, and enjoy the rest of his civilian life. However, there's one important thing missing before he can take the big plunge. Luckily, he knows just the right person to help him find it.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, mystery, a tinge of angst, humor & brotherly banter, one tiny surprise 🤓

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Happy holidays, guys! Enjoy 🎄❤️

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Part 1: This Is Not a Pipe

The heavy truck door slammed shut behind him as Russell slid into the passenger seat with an exhaustive sigh. Colter’s big pickup was parked right next to his beautiful Chevelle in that same old motel parking lot in Virginia.

Russell hadn’t moved – yet. Well, sort of. He’d been away on assignment in some frosty region for a couple of weeks. He wasn’t allowed to say where exactly he’d been, and he knew better than to put it into writing, so let’s just agree he was at the North Pole looking for Santa Claus.

He could’ve ended up anywhere he wanted once he touched ground in the States again, but a very appreciated phone call from a former colleague made the decision for him. Besides, Russell knew this particular motel well. The coffee was more than decent and got the job done, the owner and employees were nice, comforting, and, most of all, trustworthy, and there were always fresh towels.

“Extra fluffy for you, Mr. Russell,” Rosa, the maid, would say every morning with the brightest smile.

Oh, and they had a hot tub in the back…

“Thanks for coming, man,” Russell extended his greeting without glancing at his younger brother once. He could feel Colter’s scrutinizing eyes on him, though, drilling for answers. Granted, his request had been rather unusual, so Russell understood where his younger brother’s ever-frozen furrowed brow stemmed from.

Providing answers didn’t come easy for the older Shaw, however. In fact, it had always been sort of a problem for him – even in the past. Especially in the past. Russell never lied, but he did omit things. Important things. On purpose.

“Yeah, uh, sure,” Colter replied with a polite smile as he started the car and rolled out of the lot.

Ah, yes, politeness…

That was what they were at, although it was progressively improving. It was only the third time the brothers were seeing each other since they had reconnected. And while the last two encounters had given the Shaws some well-needed time to talk things out and build trust, Colter was still naturally wary of his estranged sibling. As was Russell.

“So, what’s this about? You were pretty vague on the phone. You in trouble?”

That finally caught Russell’s full attention. He quickly shook his head, causing his hair to fall into his face. “What? No! No… No trouble,” he swiftly assuaged his brother with a dismissive hand gesture and a lighthearted chuckle. “Just need your help tracking down an old friend of mine, is all.”

Colter quirked an eyebrow at that. “Another Army buddy of yours?”

“Uh, something like that, yeah,” Russell replied rather mysteriously and didn’t even try to conceal the fact that he was hiding something more behind his ambiguous answer. But Colter only intensified his stare at him and wouldn’t let go that easily. Russell knew that. After all, they were related.

Persistence was a Shaw family trait. Another survival skill, if you will.

But this time, Russell wasn’t hiding a big government secret (or maybe he was). No lives depended on this particular mission (or so he thought). He wasn’t protecting a client, a company, or even his dubious employer (but someone else). He wasn’t choked by an NDA or about to save someone in grave danger (as far as he knew).

No, if anything, it was the fact that Russell didn’t know how much he could or should share with his brother. They were related, yes. But, technically, they hadn’t seen each other in decades, so they weren’t just considered merely estranged but strangers. Russell had always been aware of that fact, and Colter was beginning to catch on.

Especially during this mission.

See, once upon a time, the two hadn’t been just brothers. After moving to the cabin, societal contacts became scarce for the siblings. All they had was them. They were friends. Best friends. Always competitive, but friends nonetheless.

How much did they really know about each other now, though? How much of the old was still there?

“So, who are we looking for? What’s the guy’s name?” Colter asked, suddenly eager as he jumped into gear. He had always been restless, even as a kid, which fondly reminded Russell of their childhood.

But how much was he still the Russell that Colter once knew?

Well, Russell, on the other hand, remained calm and ruffled a casual hand through his beard. “Well, she’s, uh–”

Eyebrow cocked, Colter snapped his head to the passenger seat where his brother started to squirm. “Oh… Oh, so it’s a she,” he emphasized with a small grin. “Now I think I get it.”

There it is. I knew it, Russell thought with an internal sigh. In order for this mission to work, he knew he had to reveal some things. Private things. Things about himself and his life. Going in, Russell knew he couldn’t ask Colter for help without giving him something.

Their father had loved tests (and so did you – but that’s another story…). Russell always thought it had been the professor in him. So, Russell saw this as a test as well.

Could he trust Colter? And more pressingly, considering some long held accusations of murder, did Colter trust him?

A clear of Russell’s throat cut right through Colter’s chuckle. And then, the eldest tried his best to give no reaction at all. “Yes, she’s a… woman, but hold your horses. It’s not what you think, okay?” Colter lifted his eyebrow once more, causing Russell to heave another exhaustive sigh. “Fine, alright? It’s exactly what you think.”

Well, close enough, Russell thought. He knew Colter couldn’t even possibly imagine the reality in his wildest dreams.

Usually, Russell was an expert in avoiding uncomfortable questions. He was a pro at ditching answers and keeping secrets, even under torture and duress. However, there was just something entirely unique about dodging questions posed by little brothers.

And Russell saw it as a perfect bonding opportunity. He wanted to fill the chasm between them that their father’s death had caused – once and for all. But he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t walking around on eggshells most of the time – something that reminded him of you again.

Learning from past mistakes, Russell wanted Colter to experience the fun side of him. The one that brewed his own beer, cared too much about his car, and had weird tastes in food. He chose to leave out the rest – the dark stuff and the very best stuff, too.

After all, Russell was good at omitting things.

Colter chuckled triumphantly. “Does this mean you’re finally giving up on Reenie?”

Amused, Russell let out a snort. “Ha! You wish… First things first, alright? Let’s just see how this thing pans out. It’s kind of a long shot. You know that exit plan I told you about?”

“Yeah, you wanna open your own brewery, right?”

“Yeah, well, let’s just say in an ideal world this, uh, woman would be part of that exit,” Russell said and sounded purposely casual as if he didn’t care the mission was successful or not in the end, omitting yet another thing – he did care.

He cared a fucking lot.

“Really? Okay.” Colter scratched his jaw and gave his words some thought. Then he offered a small, yet kind, smile. Honestly, Russell didn’t know what he had expected. “But, you know, if you want me to find the future Mrs. Shaw, I’m gonna need more information to go on. A name, last address, or a-, uh, a picture, maybe?”

“Well, name’s not gonna help you much in this case.” Your first name might’ve been shareable intel, but your last name was of the highest classification. “Her last address that I know of was in Berlin. And while I do have one photo of her, it’s not meant for your eyes, brother,” Russell said with a firmly territorial look that still carried a mischievous twinkle, revealing the exact nature of the photograph to be indeed inappropriate.

Russell had one naughty photo, yes. But he had a whole giant box of others, too.

Colter’s eyebrows met above his nose as he licked his lips. Customarily, people gave him more details when they needed him to find someone. But then again, those people usually weren’t his brother. “Do you know anything about this woman? How long have you two dated?”

“Uhm… not that long,” Russell supplied with a clear of his throat before mumbling the rest of his answer, hoping his beard would swallow most of his words. “Ten years. Give or take…”

What is time anyway if nothing but a concept, right?

Colter blinked at him and almost steered the vehicle off-road before gripping the wheel a little tighter. “I’m sorry… Did you just say ten years?”

“Well, might be more like twelve,” he admitted finally. “Well, anyways, saw her last three years ago.”

“Wow, okay, uhm…” Colter became quiet for a moment, speechless probably, the tiny bits of information running on a loop through his mind. He figured his brother still had lived a life while they hadn’t been speaking. Of course he had. He just never thought about what that life might have entailed, aside from classified military operations. “So, you’ve dated a woman for twelve years…”

“Fourteen.”

“…haven’t seen her in three, and know basically nothing about her?”

Russell snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I know. Ridiculous… Not even sure the name she did give me was her real one,” he said. It was a joke. He did know the name. He knew everything there was to know about you. So, maybe he did lie – sometimes. “But it’s the job, you know? It’s-, uh, it’s complicated.”

That part was true. Truer than he could ever possibly describe in words.

“I guess so…” Colter sighed, and Russell could hear the growing frustration. “So, she does what you do?”

Russell nodded. “In a way, yeah…” And Colter knew what that answer meant – he couldn’t say more. Again. “But don’t worry. We won’t have to turn over every stone on the face of this planet. I have a general idea of where she lives these days,” Russell provided. “One of my, uh, associates was working a job with her not that long ago. That’s how I found out she’s back in the States.”

Colter nodded in acceptance, knowing it was no use to try and prod more answers out of his brother. “Alright. Guess that’s something. So, where are we headed to?”

Russell then flashed him a grin with newfound determination sparkling in his green eyes. “Falls Church.”

The short drive had remained quiet for the most part. Colter refrained from asking more questions, knowing he wouldn’t be able to get straight answers out of his older brother in one form or the other. To accentuate Colter’s assumption of receiving non-answers, Russell mostly stared out the window with an intensity that had Colter believe his brother was counting trees when, in fact, Russell was pondering what he would, could, or should tell Colter.

Of course, Colter could also always ask more questions about their elusive father, but he didn’t do that either. Sure, one could say he was curious. More than that even.

What did Russell really know about his death? Their mother? Their family? Their work?

Another time, he kept telling himself throughout whenever he stole glances at his long-lost sibling. It was too soon. What was the point when Russell was so clearly reluctant to share anything at all?

Thus, there was nothing left but silence among peaceful woods and dense foliage till Colter pulled his truck over curbside in the idyllic town center of Falls Church.

Patiently, he waited a moment for Russell to open the floor and tell them their next logical steps. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, blew raspberries, clicked his tongue, and waited and waited and waited…

Nothing.

If Colter didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought someone carved a lifeless wax statue out of his brother and planted it on his passenger seat. Russell’s entire body stood motionless, only a set of green eyes flickered alive every once in a while and swayed out the windshield in search of something – or someone.

“So, what’s the plan here?” Colter asked with a clear of his throat. “You just wanna stay here and wait till she accidentally runs across the street?” It was meant as a joke, but to Colter’s dismay, Russell remained dead serious.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” the older Shaw confirmed and squinted his eyes at the busy street. Again, he had omitted a few things. In his mind, Colter didn’t need to know why Russell knew to be in front of the post office at exactly 15:03 (UTC–4) on a Tuesday.

Colter snorted a laugh. “What? C’mon, that can’t be the plan… Do you know how many people live in Falls Church? Or in the general Washington metropolitan area? We could be here for days. Weeks even…” The younger Shaw then switched fully into work mode, grabbing his phone from the Bluetooth car mount. “We’re never gonna find her like this. You got a phone number, maybe?” But before Russell could answer, Colter replied himself, shaking his head at his own silliness. “What am I even asking? Of course you don’t.”

Russell only smirked at that. Restless, he thought again.

“What about an old one? Maybe even that would help. I could call Bobby, Reenie… You got anything? Nothing?” But the younger Shaw’s questions apparently stumbled upon deaf ears. “Russell? Russ? Are you even listening to me? I’m trying to help you here. You could at least–”

“Found her!”

Russell almost jumped out of the car as his voice rang with sheer excitement. His heart was beating a mile a minute when his emerald eyes landed on the target. It felt like the very first time all over again.

Granted, the first meeting didn’t go so smoothly – there had definitely been some bumps (all on his part). Then again, he expected this next meeting to go a little roughly too (again, all on him).

“Wait, what?!”

Russell downright beamed. “Told you this would work.”

Colter only scoffed under his breath, the familiar competitiveness crawling back to the surface. “Yeah, well, beginner’s luck, okay?”

One boot had nearly touched asphalt before Russell remembered this wasn’t a situation that required him to storm in guns a-blazing – not even covert. Gentle hands, he reminded himself and swiftly closed the car door again, falling back into his seat. His lungs deflated.

Colter, on the other hand, was more confused than ever. “What-, uh, what are you doing?” Half-amused, his brow furrowed a bit more. “If you’ve found her, go talk to her. Where is she? Who is it?”

Curiosity could only be contained for so long. Colter wanted to know who had been a part of his brother’s life for almost as long as he had. He felt this was a key piece of information that would cause the first domino to fall. And then, revelation after revelation about Russell’s past would unravel.

Basically, Colter was waiting for the big epiphany. No pressure.

Russell vehemently shook his head. “Can’t. At least not like this. I need more intel first. You need to find out her name, and then we need your guy Bobby to get onto this.”

And yet again, guess what? Yes, Russell was, indeed, omitting things.

“Me? Why me?” Colter blinked at him. Surprise, surprise…

“‘Cause, obviously, she’d recognize me,” Russell pointed out. Again, omission. Like he had explained earlier, it was a real problem…

Colter exhaled a deep sigh. “Okay, and I’m guessing you’re still not gonna tell me why we’re doing all of this, right?”

“Nope.”

“Yup, thought so.” Still not convinced, Colter narrowed his eyes at his clearly paranoid brother. Maybe paranoia ran in the family. Not to point fingers – he recognized it in himself, too. “Do we really need to go through all that trouble? I mean, you’ve known that woman for, what, fourteen years, you said? Isn’t that a little extreme… even for you?”

Fifteen, Russell corrected in his mind. Close to sixteen. Nineteen max.

“Just trust me, okay? It’s necessary,” Russell reassured, knowing those words bore some weight. Hurriedly (he was getting antsy – this was a time-sensitive issue), he pointed a finger out the window to the sidewalk across the street. “You see that woman walking into the post office? That’s her.”

“What, the brunette in the flowery dress with the golden cross necklace? That’s her?”

“Yup.”

“Wow, okay…” Surprised didn’t come close to explain how Colter felt. He had expected… different. His brow almost met his hairline, but he still tried his best to conceal his wonder – to no avail.

Suspiciously, Russell leaned back in his seat and assessed his brother’s demeanor with a small glare. “What?”

“Nothing.” Colter threw his hands up in surrender, swallowing. “Just… She doesn’t really seem like your type.”

Amused, Russell stifled a chuckle. “And what exactly do you think is my type, little brother?”

“I don’t know…”

“What, you think some nice Christian girl is too good for me?” Russell deadpanned. Admittedly, he enjoyed bantering with his little brother. It reminded him of what he had missed out on for years. This was what he had wanted and longed for since he had left the family at eighteen.

Well, “left” wasn’t really the right word for it now, was it? It implied a voluntary act, and his leaving wasn’t so voluntary.

“That is exactly what I’m saying,” Colter countered, laughing. “It’s just, you know… dental hygienist in a motel hot tub springs to mind.”

“Okay, alright… You done?” Russell huffed, shaking his head. He refrained from showing his honest amusement. “You’re gonna follow her in or not?”

“Alright, I’ll go,” Colter finally agreed somewhat enthusiastically and jumped out of the car, swiftly following the woman inside. After all, he was curiouser and curiouser…

Russell kept his eyes trained on his younger brother until Colter vanished inside the post office. Now, it was out of his hands, only hoping his little brother wouldn’t blow it. Chances were high he would. Not that Russell didn’t have some faith.

He just had more faith in you.

Colter spotted you picking up mail from a PO box and decided on a plan of action in a matter of seconds. After all, he was quick thinking on his feet and the best at what he did. That’s why he was here. That’s why Russell had picked him for the job, right?

As you made your way back to the door, Colter eloquently intercepted you without disturbing the crowd. Another thing he had learned from his father.

He bumped straight into your shoulder and almost tackled you to the ground by the sheer force of his sneak attack. The mail in your hands scattered to the tiled floor like autumn leaves, and as Colter bent down to help you pick it up, he took a peek at your name on a postcard.

“Oh my God, would you look at that… I’m so sorry, Miss–,” the younger Shaw apologized clumsily, “Nora Laurier.” He uttered your name with a suave smile as he handed you back your pile of letters. The flirt in his eyes, however, he only added for Russell as revenge for Reenie. “Beautiful name.”

Your hands lingered on the letters between you for a moment as you took in his features and tall stature. It left you with a strange haunting of familiarity.

“Thank you,” you finally said with a hint of a smile as he let go of the mail. “Be more careful next time.”

“I will. Sorry again.” Colter chuckled with blushed cheeks and watched you leave. He waited till you had passed the row of windows before exiting himself.

He was a good actor, too.

Antsy, Russell almost bit his lip bloody as he stared the post office down till a migraine began to form. God, what he wouldn’t pay for some X-ray vision and super-hearing. He could be downright Superman with that – and the hero always got the girl.

His heart dithered anew with longing as you walked out – it took his breath away. You always did that, and you did it well. But then, you stopped short for a mere second, which wouldn’t have caused a civilian to raise a single brow. But Russell did.

“Shit…” he mumbled in the silence of the truck and lowered himself down to the dashboard. He watched you reach for your phone in your purse and call someone as you headed down the street.

Eventually, you stopped three houses east and finished your call in the shade of a tree next to a busy (and noisy) bus station. Russell caught your eyes drifting back to the doors of the post office, though, just as his little brother walked out and jogged towards the car.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Russell ducked even further down, hitting his head in several places. “What did that knucklehead do?”

The driver’s door opened as Colter casually slipped inside. “Got a name,” he announced victoriously. Part of his happiness emanated from gathering yet another puzzle piece of his mysterious brother – meeting you. “She goes by Nora Laurier now… And she seems nice. Way too nice for you, actually…” As he drifted off, his eyes searched for the elder one before finding him almost kissing the floor mat. “Russ, uh… What-, uh, what are you doing down there?”

“What the hell did you do?” Russell’s tone was both snappy and frustrated.

“Whoa, what d’you mean what did I do?” Colter waved off defensively. “I did what you told me to do!”

“She made you!”

“She did not make me,” Colter brushed off with a laugh, quite confident of his own skill set. They’d had the same teacher. He would know if you had suspected anything.

“Then why did she wait and look after you, huh?” Russell pointed out in annoyance.

Colter’s lips itched to break a smile. He couldn’t help it. It was the perfect opportunity to teach his flirt of a brother a well-needed lesson. “Well, maybe I caught her eye… piqued her interest, you know?”

Russell cocked a brow from below, his stare lethal. “Did you flirt with her?”

Colter hesitated for a moment. Mostly for dramatic effect. “I-, uh… You told me to get her name. ‘Sides, I told you Reenie was off limits.”

“Oh, so this is about revenge? Very mature.” Russell frowned. “She still there?”

“Where?” Colter stretched himself a bit as he looked out the windshield.

“Tree. Bus station.”

An amused smile formed on Colter’s lips as he spotted you. “Oh, yeah. I see her. I don’t think she suspects anything. She’s not even loo-… No, uh, wait… Yup.”

“What?” Russell’s brows drew together as he rose a little from his crouched position.

“Yeah, she’s definitely looking over here.”

“Well, stop looking down,” Russell hissed through gritted teeth. After a deep breath, he spoke in a calmer, more advising tone, “Pretend I’m not here.”

“Trying to, trust me… Should I wave at her? Smile?”

“Are you nuts?! Just look ahead. Pretend you’re getting a phone call.”

Colter did as he was told and held his phone to his ear. “She’s still looking,” he informed with a pressed smile, barely moving his mouth when he spoke.

“Okay, what’s she doing now?”

“There’s a-, uh, there’s a car coming and pulling over by the bus station. Dark gray Audi A6. Virginia Plates. Yankee-Papa-Charlie-5824,” Colter said as Russell hauled a pen from his pocket and began to jot down the plate numbers on his left palm.

“Copy that.”

He’d memorize them anyway, but one could never be too safe. He could get a concussion in the next hour or so (most likely because of you), and then what?

“Okay, she’s getting in,” Colter narrated. “Driver’s in his late-thirties. Male. Glasses. Medium height. Medium build… I think you could take him,” he added with a teasing grin.

“Shut up,” Russell retorted. “Are they gone now?”

“Pulling away from the curb and… Yep, they’re gone. Headed south down the road,” Colter affirmed.

“Alright.” Russell popped back into his seat with a sigh and some sore muscles. He had been sure he’d heard a few bones crack while he’d been cowering down there. He might be finally getting too old for these missions. But that was part of the reason why he was here in the first place – retirement was calling. And Russell wanted to fill the chair next to him on the porch.

“You good?” Colter checked and choked the small laugh that wanted to escape upon the ruffled sight of his older brother.

“Yeah, go ahead and follow them. Just keep a low profile,” Russell instructed. “On our way, you might wanna call your op analyst, too. See what he can find out.”

“Alright,” Colter agreed somewhat reluctantly but still tailed the sedan. “You sure this is a good idea?”

“What d’you mean?” Russell said mindlessly, keeping his eyes focused on the target vehicle.

“Us… stalking your ex-girlfriend?” Colter noted with a cocked brow. “And her potentially new boyfriend?”

Russell only laughed at that. “We’re good. Trust me.”

Admittedly, though, a small part of him wondered (and worried) if this was all real. Maybe Nora Laurier wasn’t your real name, but it might be your actual new one – one you’d adopted as a safety precaution after you’d left it all behind. Maybe you had finally done it and retired, found a perfectly normal guy, and settled down – just without him.

Or:

Maybe you were still in the game, after all.

Russell was hoping it was the latter. Otherwise, he could probably expect a hefty restraining order in his future, but he wasn’t about to tell Colter that. Not until he knew for sure.

The Audi parked in front of an organic grocery store a few blocks down. Colter chose a spot across the parking lot, keeping a reasonable distance with the perfect view. Russell watched as you and Unnamed Man #1 sauntered into the store, an arm slung tightly around your waist and a smile on your face.

While on the phone with Bobby, Colter could tell that the sight of you in another man’s arms stung. “Okay, uh, thanks, Bobby.”

“What’d he say?” Russell fired as soon as Colter had removed the phone even just an inch from his ear.

“Uh, well, there’s some bad news,” Colter revealed hesitantly and licked his lips, not knowing how he was supposed to break his brother’s heart. “Bobby ran the plate number through the DMV. It’s registered to an Aiden Laurier.”

“Laurier?” Undeniably, Russell’s heart flinched at the connection. “Maybe a brother. Cousin…”

Or a colleague, Russell’s mind stubbornly added.

Colter bit his lower lip hard before he spoke, “They’ve been married for two years. I’m sorry, Russ.”

A hand comfortingly patted Russell’s shoulder. A part of him wanted to scream heavenward, but something else inside was gnawing on him.

He clicked his tongue. “No… No.” Sure, one could argue that denial was always the first step of grief. “No. No way she married sweater-vest John Mulaney over there.”

“I’m pretty sure she did. Bobby sent me the marriage certificate,” Colter countered and showed him the screenshot on his phone.

Russell glanced at it for a short second, not even bothering to waste more time on fake news. He shook his head. He knew better.

“Nah. I’m not buying it. You need to go in there and tell me what you see.” He sealed his words with an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Colter exhaled deeply. “Russ, I-, uh, I think you need to let this go, man. You’re starting to… Never mind.”

“No. Go ahead. Say it,” Russell prompted with some thunder in his voice. “I’m reminding you of Dad, don’t I?”

Colter only twitched his shoulders. “I mean, yeah. A little.”

Russell’s head bobbed in thought before he met his little brother’s eyes. “You really don’t see it?”

“See what?”

“The post office, the road crew over there, the-, the fake documents?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“C’mon… Just think about everything Dad taught us, huh?”

Was Colter really not getting it? Russell found that quite hard to believe. He had known his little brother to be as sharp as a whip. While Russell didn’t always have the nicest things to say about their father, he could admit the old man had prepared them well for life. Well, one life at least. This one.

The nomad life, the odd jobs that required them to have a particular set of skills like Liam Neeson.

Colter shook his head. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Russell.”

Russell let out a sigh and leaned back in his seat. “Alright, if you don’t see it, you don’t see it.” A smirk twitched in the corners of his lips. “It’s your funeral, brother…”

With narrowed eyes, Colter pursed his lips. “Alright, just tell me one thing, okay?”

“You know I can’t tell you anything,” Russell reiterated and brushed his beard.

“I know. I know… It’s not that kinda question,” the younger Shaw reassured.

“Go ahead,” Russell relented and curiously looked at his brother.

Within a second, Russell could think of a million questions Colter might want to ask him, but this hadn’t been one of them:

“In the past three years, how many times have you thought about her? And I don’t just mean ‘crossed your mind’ every couple of months. I mean ‘seriously thought’ about her?”

“Hmm.” Russell pondered for a moment before replying, “Every damn day.”

It wasn’t a lie, no omission of anything, and Colter could tell. You were the first thought that popped into Russell’s still groggy mind when he woke up and the last one every night that fluttered across his weary eyelids. Obviously, he didn’t give Colter the soppy answer, though.

“Fine. I’ll go,” Colter softened his stance. “You owe me,” he added with a pointed finger before setting foot outside the car.

“I do owe you. Anything you want, brother,” Russell agreed with a broad grin. “How about we start with a full case of my homebrew, huh?”

Colter danced gracefully through the aisles, spying through canned goods and boxes of cereal. He watched you carefully select fruit with your husband, move through the dairy talking about “organic” and “locally sourced” till you landed on a few choices of toothpaste and finally strolled to the cash register.

Everything seemed boringly normal and ordinary. You chatted with the cashier. They handed you a coupon, which you slipped into your purse. Your husband paid with his credit card (which carried the same name matching the DMV records), and both of you left the store with two paper bags in your arms.

Once through the sliding glass doors, you stopped and turned to your husband. “Darn, honey, I think we forgot the milk.”

“You want me to grab it?”

“No, I’ll do it.”

“Okay, I’ll wait by the car and load the rest of the groceries.”

Now, Colter found that odd. He had watched you spent at least five minutes in the dairy aisle. How could you forget something as basic as milk?

As you hushed inside, your husband sauntered back to the car, and Colter followed you back in. You passed right by the dairy and, with a few looks that resembled a scan of your surroundings, you slipped past the door that led to the restrooms.

Waiting a beat, Colter went in after you. But you were long gone – just not to the restroom. An ‘Employee Only’ door that led to a dumpster alley outside was just falling shut.

Granted, Colter had a bad feeling about this. It was the same feeling he always got shortly before walking into a trap. In his defense, though, you were not a seven-foot-tall, 300-pound kind of guy. He wasn’t about to be ambushed by Shaquille O’Neal, which is probably why Colter didn’t find it necessary to pull his gun.

In hindsight, he should have.

The narrow alley was quiet and empty, except for some trash littering the ground around the dumpsters. It was closed-off, too, wedged between buildings with no view to the parking lot or nearby streets.

And then, something hit him. Or better yet: You hit him. With an elbow to the face and a stiff, flat palm to his throat, Colter stumbled forward before you gave him the final blow and knocked him off balance, tackling him to the ground.

Pressing his cheek into the rough and unforgiving surface of the asphalt, you jumped on him and restrained his arms tightly behind his back. While he squirmed to get out of your hold, he didn’t use as much brutal force as you expected he would.

“Shit,” he muttered below you, his voice muffled by the gravel. A light chuckle escaped him. “Okay, you got me.”

“Sounds about right,” you agreed with a smirk and tightened your grip on his arm.

Then, Colter heard a gun click above him. Hoping to see his brother, he looked up – only to find your husband with a weapon in hand as he stared down the barrel.

“Ah, I think you broke my nose,” the younger Shaw mumbled with a groan.

“Good. You’ve been following me. Why?” you prompted sternly. “Who are you? Who are you working for? Jafari? Mueller?”

“Listen, I-I think you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not who you think I am,” Colter argued with a strained voice. What the hell had Russell gotten him into? “This is just a big misunderstanding.”

“Uh-huh.” You could only roll your eyes at that. How many times had you heard that line before?

“Let’s hood him. Get him to the Market,” your partner suggested. “We’ll see if he talks then.”

“No, really,” Colter insisted, growing a bit more uneasy. He had no idea what the Market was, but it didn’t sound pleasant. “You know my brother.”

“Who’s your brother?” With your elbow, you put more pressure on his back.

“Ow, alright…” Colter groaned once more as the pain intensified. “Looks kinda like me. Think two decades younger. He was in the Army, so probably didn’t have long hair and a beard. Uh, kind… green eyes? No? Doesn’t ring a bell?”

Colter watched your brow furrow in his periphery as he squinted upwards. He could see the gears starting to turn in your head. You just needed one final push to put all the puzzle pieces together.

“If it helps, my name is Colter. Colter Sh–”

“Shaw,” you shot like a missile. Your jaw plummeted to the ground, your heart springing right out with it. Your grip on the man caught between your thighs loosened, hearing Colter’s sigh of relief before you heard his voice.

“Hiya, sweetheart.”

Your head darted up, the man beneath you long forgotten. You swallowed as your eyes landed on an all too familiar face – even when it was covered by a bunch of hair that had never been there before. The heart-crushing smile was still the same as if it had been ripped straight from an old photograph you had of him.

“Russell?!”

Part 2: This Is a Russell Mission

Quite the entrance! Writing Russell reminded me somewhat of Plastic Hearts Dean (minus the addiction problems unless you count lying) because of all the wild overthinking 😂

If you enjoyed this story, then I'll gladly keep working on its prequel. Was a bit nervous to post this since I filled in some family history gaps myself 😅 I also dove into the books a little and added some things that kinda fit their "show" personalities.

Please let me know what you think and if you'd be interested in a young soldier!Russell series 😉🤍

TAGS:

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@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

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[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 9; "Never seen that color blue."

“No, yeah, of course! Noo…no! Thank you! I seriously appreciate all of your help and understanding during this! I hope you have a wonderful day! Yeah, aw, thanks! You, too! Yeah- okay- bye!”

My faux smile dropped as soon as my hand did, phone falling to a silenced settle on my left thigh. I breathed a shallow breath of somehow anxious relief, so ironic that it made me want to scream.

Max reached across the bed and rubbed my knee comfortingly, “You okay?”

I wanted to snort, yell, kick my feet, and laugh hysterically. Throw a temper tantrum, wish on a star, kiss a fucking frog. Fall on my knees, beg the skies. Change fate's cruel course of time.

But my expression was blank as I shrugged, “What can ya do?”

The corner of his lips lifted into the saddest smile. His thumb brushed my skin, “It’s gonna be alright. Once you settle back in, things will start to feel normal. You can start…moving on. And, hey, I’m visiting in just a month. You have that to look forward to. School starting, your new role at the clinic. So many good things, Daz.”

He was right- I had so much to be excited about. I really should’ve felt excited, grateful. A better woman would have. A better woman would have seen the blessings all around her and felt so full of life and love. God, she would’ve respected herself enough to not be in this situation in the first place.

Yet I couldn’t help but feel resentful, knowing that I would trade all of it for-

for him.

For Oliver.

I would give up everything for just another moment, hanging onto his lips like a vine. Just a second of growth, even if being ripped away meant digging up the roots and my leaves dying.

I just gave Max that fake smile, knowing full well he was aware that it meant nothing. “You’re right. It’ll be good for me to be home.”

He squeezed my knee before removing his hand. “You wanna finish packing? Or maybe take a break? Get some food?”

I glanced around at the mess of clothes across Sam and I’s hotel room. My bags lay open, a few piles of my stuff already stuffed inside. But there was more than half to be done. So much to be done before I went…before I went home tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Less than 12 hours from now. I’d be heading back to reality. Closing the doors on Europe, on everything and everybody I’d be leaving here.

There was just one week left on the European leg of the two. Tomorrow morning, everyone will be leaving for Germany. I’d go to the airport with them, like normal, but depart at a separate gate, at the same exact time. Those who needed to know, well, I was going to tell them. And those who needed to know the reason why would, too. Sam was going to think I was going home because of an offer for a higher position from the clinic I worked at. But this was only partially true. Training for that wouldn’t even start for another 3 weeks. School wasn’t for a month.

I was leaving for me- for clarity, fresh air. Oliver was right- London was foggy, full of pollution and shitty, selfish men.

I needed to get away, out. Back to routine and home. Back to what I knew- what wouldn’t hurt me.

I looked back to Max, “I'm gonna finish packing. Get it over with. Before Sam gets back. I think it might hurt his feelings to walk in and see this…mess.”

Mess might have held a double meaning. I had looked better, for sure. Max understood, I think, for he knocked his shoulder against mine, then stood from the bed. “We got it, Daz.”

I stood up quickly, knowing the only way to get started was to just start. Stand. Move. (I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.)

It took us another hour or so to finish stuffing my belongings into their bags. I had bought maybe one too many souvenirs, so we struggled to find a place for everything. When we were done, I slew myself across the end of the bed, breathing heavily, sweating a little bit.

Max groaned from the floor, “Why do you own so many things?!”

“Dude, I don’t even know. It’s gonna take me 12 years to unpack!”

He chortled, half-heartedly, patting his stomach as an afterthought. “I am soooo hungry. What do you wanna eat?”

I sat up as he did so, shrugging a bit, “You pick. I don’t have the energy for all that.”

“I’m good with the hotel restaurant if you are.”

“Fuck it.”

So, we sludged our way downstairs. I hadn’t been leaving my room much, worried you-know-who would cross my path and shake things up again. Though, I doubted he was looking for me. He hadn’t so much as texted me since last week. Oliver was probably sulking, convincing himself that he was the victim in this whole thing. The thought made my blood rush a little bit. I clenched my fist as the elevator doors closed, trying to focus on breathing and not screaming.

The past three had been probably one of the worst of my life. I was so…so sad. So angry. Confused. Nothing made sense, yet all of my fears had come true. It was like I knew all the answers, but my bones felt so put off by how they manifested themselves. Like, what do you mean the cold, dark, distant boy turned out to be a cheating, manipulative liar? Right on the money.

My rational mind couldn’t wrap around the fact that it still felt so…disappointing? Wrong? Fucked the fucking fuck up.

The doors slid open. I followed, quietly, behind Max as we headed for the inlet to the left of the front counter. This was a usual part of my new found routine, grabbing food with Max. Albeit, sneakily, with numerous texts between the two of us (me, badgering him) ensuring nobody else (Oliver) was down here. In avoiding him, I had been avoiding everybody else, too.

I could already see their knowing looks. Sam could read me like a book. Ronnie was way psychic and usually felt the vibe of a situation long before it occurred. Adam, obviously, already was aware. And I'm sure he would have relayed the information to Cyrus.

I was exuding this aura of heartbroken, school-girl-fantasy-crushed, sad-puppy shit. I felt tired, and I’m sure my eyes looked it, too. Any passerby probably could have read my emotions pretty well. No matter, I’d be out of here soon. Back home. I could heal, rest, relax, find somebody else to fuck and get the fuck over this dumb ass white boy.

My dumb ass white boy. I’d tried not to think about him, so deeply sunk into this angry feeling that I couldn’t even fathom the idea of missing what had hurt me. Alas, every once and a while (between every other curse I thought of) something would flash through my mind. A distant memory, an image of his deep-ocean blue eyes shining with flames from the rooftop firepit, triggered by a breath, a catch of the wind, a sink in my heart. I’d feel a little moth flicker in my chest. An air bubble, taut in my stomach, would have me hiccuping from gushing tears in an instant.

I think it was the deep blue suede of the hotel bar’s stools that did it this time. I brushed a hand, slowly, watching the color shift from the movement of the fabric. The lighter color reminded me of a time he felt the way I did right now. Sadness. Maybe it hadn’t meant as much to him, maybe his depravity was not comforted by me. But that moment, when I held him, when he nuzzled his head into my neck and began crying-

“Wanna drink?” Max rested a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention back from where I was trudging through fleeting, erasing moments.

I ceased my body from flinching, willed away the wetness in my eyes, and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s get a drink.”

Which was a mistake.

One drink turned to appetizers turned to three drinks turned to main courses, 5 drinks, 2 shots, and dessert. Before I knew it, Max and I were cackling over some typo on some Twitter post. I gripped his shirt sleeve and hoped I wouldn’t slide off the bar stool. For the first time in a week, I wasn’t concerning myself with the logistics of sticking around in this public area as long as we had been. I wasn’t even thinking of Oliver. In fact, Max and I were discussing some of our favorite shitposts about American politics. My mind was far away from dumb Brits and idiotic Europeans.

Of course, the world had a very funny way of spitting in my face.

Adam, Cyrus, and- low and behold- Oliver came strolling into the bar right when Max and I finished ordering another drink. I felt a little sick, watching as they neared us. Oliver wasn’t paying attention. He never did. His head, sunken into his hoodie, hands shoved in his pockets. He moved like the Grim Reaper. I wondered if he had come to take my soul away.

Adam and Cyrus seemed…on edge. They noticed Max and I only after they’d made it halfway across the room. Adam hesitated on his next step, catching my eye, worriedly glancing between me and Oliver.

Max was aware, at this point. He cut himself off mid sentence, swiping a hand across his lips. “Shit,” he mumbled to himself. “Daisy…let’s go.”

His fingers brushed through mine in a desperate grasp to pull me along with him, towards the door. I was drunk. I was not thinking. I was hysterical, sad, heartbroken, angry. I tugged my hand away, instead flipping into the air to wave and cheerfully catch the group’s full attention.

“Cy! Adam!” I couldn’t quite catch his name on my tongue. I thought I might puke. “Hey, girl!”

Oliver looked up at the sound of voice. He stopped, but three feet from our little round table. The light, dim from the overhead lamps and LED strips behind the counter, caught the round pupils in his eyes. I watched as he blinked once, twice. Blue.

“Oliver!” There it was.

He met my eye. The corners of his lids wilted, like the petals of a flower, aged, saddened. Drops of rain dropping them in weight. Max looked between the two of us. Cyrus busied himself with buying a drink. Adam slouched in the awkward, pregnant air. Oliver ignored me, moved around our group to sit as far away as possible.

I clenched my jaw. Rage. Utter, pure anger. How dare he deny me even now? The fact that he had not come to my door in the past few days, on his knees, begging for my forgiveness- I was seething. And, now, he goes back to his old tricks. Pretending like I don’t exist.

I turned to Max, who was bracing for impact. His hands were wary, held up near me as if to catch my fall. I shrugged, smiled cheekily, wrinkled my nose. I bumped Adam’s shoulder with mine and declared, “Shots on me?”

He continued his smug slump in the bar stool for the next hour. Adam, Cyrus, Max, and I hung like the old pals we were, cracking jokes, swapping stories like we were surrounding a campfire. I glanced at Oliver every once in a while, hoping to accidentally make eye contact like we used to. He stared down at his phone or his glass. I was surprised the device worked considering he’d fucking forgotten my contact existed or something.

Ugh.

What a fucking ass hole.

Adam asked me a question, pulling my attention back in. “Are you excited for Germany?”

Oh. I’d almost forgotten all about this little plot. I knew that if I spoke loud enough, Oliver would hear. He’d react. I could almost hear it, the little hitch in his breath. The tickle in his throat. The flit of his tongue across his lips, the patter of his holey heart.

I felt my own chest jitter with the excitement, the want of a reaction I needed from him. The shock. The idea that I would be an ocean away from him. No longer at an arm’s length.

I turned towards Adam and rested my chin on my fist. I frowned, almost playfully, “Ugh, I hate having to tell you guys like this!”

Cyrus slowly lowered his glass from his lips, having been mid-drink, “What’s up?”

“I’m going home,” my brows furrowed in a naive look. Adam and Cyrus’ chins dropped a sliver. I pouted my lip, “Stop! I know! I’m so sad!”

I wanted to wait until the conversation was over to look down the bar, to see if even a fragment of what I was saying had affected him. But, I didn’t need to wait. Oliver had flinched. He literally flinched.

“Yeah, me, too,” Adam touched my hand. “Why so soon? I thought you were staying through August?”

“I was planning on it, but…they offered me a better position at the clinic I work at. I have to get home to start training,” I continued, a satisfied smirk teasing my mouth.

Cyrus lifted his glass, “Well, there’s nothing to be sad about, then! To your new job.”

“I’ll cheers to that,” the smirk slipped into a genuine smile. I really would miss these guys, but my drunken, stupid mind wasn’t thinking about that. I wanted more from Oliver. I wanted a white flag or a look or a…fuck, I wanted him.

I pushed, “I’ll really miss you guys. Max, with your corny-ass pick-up lines, Adam’s mom vibes, Cy’s ability to knock back more drinks than fucking- I don’t know, Spider-man, and not get drunk? Shit’s insane.”

I drank in the laughter for a moment, eyes lingering down the bar to Oliver. Then, I added a name to my list and narrowed my gaze, “Oliver,” he wouldn’t look. “With your need to ignore me in every room we’re in. I’ll really miss your cold fucking shoulder.”

Any laughter that may have hung onto our past moment faded. I heard Max take a sharp breath in through his teeth. Adam pressed his lips together. Cyrus looked over his shoulder at their friend. I didn’t know if he really knew, but he had to understand just a little bit. The vibes were always there. We thought we were sneaky, but we were so sickly up each other’s asses. We’d even run into Cyrus and Adam in the hallway that one time. I guess we were all really good at being hopefully fucking stupid and blind.

I leaned on my palm and stared that man down. I watched as he kept his chin, pointed ahead, like he was playing brave in the situation. His Adam's apple bobbed. Oliver clutched his glass, swung it back, slugged the liquid down. Slammed it back on the counter. Then, he stood up, pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and threw a wad of bills onto the bar. He adjusted his hoodie and left.

I was dizzy. I stuttered back a step. Max touched my wrist, murmuring something or the other about heading back upstairs. Telling me I was too drunk.

I felt slow, felt dizzy, felt scared, felt angry, felt sad. I felt so sad. I felt so angry and so sad and…

And, my eyebrows furrowed in anger, the shock erasing itself from my frame. I took a deep, drunken breath and followed his trail. Fast. Legs pumping, arms swinging at my sides.

He was at the elevator, looking down at his shoes. I couldn’t get his name out. I think if I did the tears were going to fall out, The sobs were going to ricochet through my whole body and knock me over and kill me and I’d die and I’d never get to see that dumb asses blue eyes any more. Ever again. I wanted to see his blue eyes again. I wanted him to look at me and see me for what he sees me as. I wanted him to touch my hip and wring my neck and tell me I was the only one he wanted. I’d take it. One more time, then he could go back to her. I just wanted a goodbye.

He was stepping into the elevator. The doors were closing. I jammed a hand between and he flinched, again.

I stepped in just as the doors began to shut again. His eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them. He was frozen. Frowning. He looked…sad.

I almost reached a hand out, almost caressed his cheek and pulled him into me. But, I didn’t. Instead, I said (yelled?), “What the fuck is your problem?”

He stammered, “Wha-what?”

I struggled to repeat myself. I needed to cry. It was going to open. But, for another moment, the anger took over, “You fucking heard me. What is your problem, Oliver? What the fuck did I do to deserve this kind of shit? I don’t wanna hear more sad excuses about your fucking mental health and your-your fucking anxiety. God, I- I fucking…I don’t even k- you fucking ignored me back there! I looked right at you and I said your name and I smiled at you and…I’ve been so nice to you. I’ve been nice to you all summer and you treat me like a piece of fucking shit. God, I’ve…I’ve told you so much. I told you about my mom and…and you laid there and you told me all this bullshit about how much you liked me! And then you…youre a fucking-”

I cut myself off, out of breath. I was sweating a little bit. I think I had spit a few times. And I paced the elevator so much that I was flush against the wall. I leaned my shoulders back against the cool metal, wringing my hands, tugging at my hair.

He didn’t say anything. I breathed, hard, I thought, long. I kept thinking, and I kept getting angrier. I turned back to him, rearing up again. I had more to say, I just, I just needed to get some more concise- more thoughtful thoughts, right, exactly. Yes. I can…

“And who the fuck is F-”

“Daisy.”

There it was, my name. It was my name, soft and angelic, and holy. And a moment on his lips that he carved out of time and held a space for, for me to hear.

I stopped. I felt nothing for a moment. I looked at him and he was already waiting to see my eyes. My bottom lip wobbled.

“You’re obviously upset. And, drunk. Why don’t we talk about this in the morning? We can both get some rest.” He was always so good at two very distinct things: pushing stuff (people) aside and speaking to me in a way that felt like a cloud was wrapping itself around me. Like the cloud wanted me to lay in its arm and would coo me to sleep. Like I was safe and loved and-

Loved.

He made me feel loved.

I straightened up a bit at the thought. I pointed an accusatory finger at him, “Who the fuck is Fiona? What the fuck was that all about? Oliver, I’m not going to stand here and beg for you to love me. Or beg for you to come back to me. I just want a goddamn apology. For wasting my time, for playing with my fucking heart. For stringing me along. You knew-”

The tears came. Perfect timing. “You fucking know that I love you. You have known for a very long time. And you are an idiotic fool if you still don’t believe it. But I am not going to play this game with you. I told you that already and now I seriously mean it. I broke my back this summer to make sure that I was who you wanted me to be. So I was cool and chill and could take as much space as you wanted me to. I went with everything you asked of me, I was there when you needed a warm body. I comforted you and…and tried to fucking fix you like I knew you wanted me to. But, I am done. I am done with this. I am done-”

My voice cracked. I swiped an angry, shaking hand across my face. Vision blurred. “I am done with you. This is ridiculous. I don’t know if you meant to, but you have manipulated this situation so that you have been the one benefiting. I’m tired of letting you think you’re some broken, sad puppy dog on the side of the road that needs to be taken care of. Grow the fuck up. And, now I find out that there’s some other woman? That I- I’m the other woman, maybe? That you’re cheating on her with me? That I’m your fucking slut? Side hoe?”

I had paced again, this time, towards him. He was taller than me, but my anger was making me taller. He was almost…cowering. I pointed my finger again, nearly chest to chest with him.

“Fuck you, Oliver. Fuck you and fuck London and fuck your stupid fucking music.”

The doors opened, on our floor. I walked out, but turned to face him before he was really gone from me. I wanted to see his eyes one last time.

He was crying. I popped an arm into the door again, buying myself more time to kick him while he was down. I thought this would bring me closure. I thought I’d feel better if he knew, truly knew, the entirety. Every thought. Every hurt I felt.

“You asked me at the beginning of the summer what I was searching for. I thought that it was you. And I thought that I had found you.”

I shook my head sadly. The doorbell on the elevator rang. I stepped back, “I was right. There is no deeper meaning. Goodbye, Oliver.”

I stood there for a second, as though I could still see his blue eyes, boring through the metal doors.

Then, I sludged my way to my hotel room. I opened the door, shoulders slumped, body aching. I knew my makeup was smeared all over my face. My hair was wrecked. I couldn’t stop sniffling or whimpering. I walked into the room.

Sam sat up in his bed. Ronnie was beside him. I barely made it two more steps before Sam caught me in his arms.

–

The sky was gray. The weather in Europe usually was, especially up here on this side of the continent. I wasn’t surprised when, on our drive to the airport, it started spitting rain. I shivered underneath the cover of my hoodie, yet walked slowly through the entrance.

I remember when I had first dropped down in London, wide-eyed, hopeful. I think it had been raining then, too. But, I hadn’t cared. Come to think of it, it was raining pretty much everyday we had been in London.

Oliver was right about a couple things.

Back then, just three months ago, I hadn’t cared about the sun’s shadow curving from behind the clouds, nor did I mind that it was usually quite chilly outside. Now, I felt anger, annoyance at the weather, at the people, at the world.

At him. The stupid weight of my suitcase. The drag in my step. The wetness of my clothes and the chill of the wind.

I felt older, in the worst way. I was a different age, considering my birthday had passed while I’d been here. But, I felt old in a way that was draining. I felt like I had wasted so much time, energy, and all I had left were weary bones and sadness. Just how much I had left, I didn’t know. But I did know that as soon as I got back home, I would be rotting in my bed for a day or two.

Sam, Max, and Ronnie came to the airport early with me. My flight time had been pulled forward by an hour, so I needed to get here sooner than I thought. I wasn’t complaining, though. I couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of the hotel. Out of here. Out of London.

I hurried the process of packing my last few things. Stuffed my breakfast down my throat. Impatiently waited in the taxi, knee bouncing, as Sam and Max loaded the trunk with all of our things. Ronnie slid in beside me and became the first reason that I cried that day.

She reared a look over her shoulder, out the back window, to check on Max and Sam. Then, with an awkward sigh, she turned her knees towards me, “Peaches?”

I glanced up from my lap and the bounce of my knee slowed, “Yeah?”

Upon noticing the somber gaze in her eyes, my brows furrowed. “What’s up?” I added, fully presenting her my full attention.

Ronnie rubbed her nose in a seemingly nervous manner, “I just wanted to say…um, ew. Sorry.”

I softly giggled at her disgust with whatever sentence she was trying to form. “What is it?”

She finally met my eye in a fervently forward manner, “I usually have fun on tour. But this summer was…it was extra special. Getting to know you has been…so cool. I don’t know. I just…I love you, Daisy. You’ve become like a sister to me.”

I couldn’t help but feel the tears well up in my eyes. “Oh, Ronnie,” I sniffled, hugging her around the shoulders.

She pulled me close to her and I swear I heard her sniffle a bit, too. “I’m sorry for not noticing what was happening. I should’ve been there for you more. I got caught up in my own-”

“Don’t even apologize,” I reared back with my reply, “No. It’s nobody’s fault. I’m not even blaming myself for what happened. It was a stupid, weird situation. It was my responsibility to come to you if I needed help. I just needed…I just need to go home now.”

Ronnie smiled a sad, peaceful smile. “I hope I get to see you again soon. I don’t know what I will do without your bright light.”

“Oh, you will. You guys will be in the US soon. Sam said he was gonna drop by. I am positive you’ll be there, too,” I dropped a sly wink.

Ronnie watched my face for a moment, “I mean, of course you know now. But…” she narrowed her eyes, grinning in shocked realisation, “Fucker. You knew the whole time?!”

“Of course I knew the whole time. Sam is-” I snorted, “Sam is not hiding his lovesick, puppy-dog eyes.”

Ronnie’s gaze widened slightly, “I-”

The doors of the taxi popped open as the boys joined us, Max in the back on my other side, Sam in the front. He saw our laughing, secretive expressions in the rearview mirror and turned back. “What are you two doing?”

I brushed my hands across my cheeks to clear whatever tears might’ve been rolling still, then shook my head. “Nothing, Sam-Ham.”

He turned his eyes to Ronnie and tilted his chin forward. She shrugged, a smug smile contorting her once saddened face. Ronnie dropped a wink, “Nothing at all.”

The second person to make me cry was Max. Out of everyone, he was probably my best friend at this point. We had spent so much time together, out drinking, dancing, holed up in my hotel room with trays of room service, movies on the tv. He had been there through one of the most terrifying, exhilarating, strange summers of my life. We were bonded forever, now. I could feel it.

He was helping me check in while Sam and Ronnie headed to drop off our baggage. They were all just planning on hanging for the extra hour until it was time to check in for their flight. I was grateful they all wanted to sacrifice the time for me. To them, though, I knew it was second nature.

Some people made it easy, loving me.

I shook away the thoughts because the attendant was handing me my ticket. She reiterated boarding time, twenty minutes from now, and wished me a safe flight. “Thank you,” I nodded before turning back to Max.

The tall blonde was watching me. I could tell he was on the verge of tears from just the way that his shoulders shrugged forward. It made my heart swell, knowing how much of an impact I had had on them.

He tried to straighten up as I looked him in the eye. Then, he opened his mouth to say something. I threw myself into his arms before he could. Hugging me tight, Max brushed a hand down the back of my head.

“Oh, sweet, lovely angel. I am going to miss you so.”

I didn’t need to hear anything else to start crying into his chest. Max felt the rock of my shoulders and sniffled into my hairline. “Don’t start, love. I won’t be able to stop, myself,” he chuckled shortly.

We stood like that for a few minutes, maybe more, before I stepped back. I rubbed my eyes on the inside of my sweatshirt, knowing my face was flushed and probably swelling. Max touched his fingers to my wrists and gently brushed aside my hands. He took in my visage, so delicately, and sighed. “Can I just say…”

“Oh, no!” I exclaimed through a sob. More tears fell.

Max rubbed my shoulders, “No, no, no, love. It’s okay. No more tears, okay? We’ll be okay. Just…I just want- I need to tell you how important you are. I know you’re going to go home and things are going to start to settle and you’re going to start to think so many things about yourself. You are so easy to love, Daisy. It is like breathing to me, to Ronnie, to Sam, Sasha. It is breathing. And you are worthy of it, too. That’s all. I just…I just needed to tell you, okay?”

I didn’t say anything else. I just whimpered and pulled him in closer to me.

Sam was the worst.

Since the evening before, when I had broken down in his arms and told him, through my blubbering, a short synopsis of what had happened, we hadn’t spoken much. I didn’t know if it was simply because we didn't have enough time. But, I was feeling worse because of it.

I needed my big brother more than anybody else. Sam knew me better than anybody else, even if we hadn’t been around each other as often as we used to. He still understood me. We shared the same blood, for God’s sake.

Yet, as we sat there, in the waiting area of my plane’s gate, he didn’t even look at me. He stared down at the floor, hands folded in his lap. He sat across from Ronnie, Max, and I, making it known that he wanted nothing to do with the conversation. When he first sat there, the aisle a wide gap between us, I furrowed my brows. But, then, Ronnie and Max striked up some topic that I invested myself and my attention into.

It didn’t seem like that big of a deal until they called for me. I stood up, faster than I should’ve, to be honest, and began to gather my things. Phone, bag, jacket, passport. I ran the list over in my head, three times over.

All the while, Sam slowly stood, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and watched his feet as he scuffed his sneakers across the carpeted floor.

I passed my eyes over him for a moment, holding my breath. Surely, my brother would have something to say to me.

He didn’t make a move.

I began walking the short distance to my gate. Before I moved to get in line, though, I turned back to my friends. Max jumped for a hug first, barely allowing me enough time to fully settle back on my heels. I dug my feet into the ground to gain traction as his ginormous body came toppling into my arms. Ronnie joined in the hug yet struggled to toss her arms over Max’s tall frame. He adjusted as we all shared a laugh and tucked her in beside me.

He called over his shoulder, voice muffled, “Get in here, Sam-Ham!”

I heard my brother elicit a laugh. It felt refreshing to hear. Then, I felt the hug grow tighter as he joined in on Max’s other side. We didn’t stay like that for long. It was stuffy and I wasn’t getting much air.

So, I tapped Max’s back and said, “Alright. Let me go.”

I gave individual hugs to everybody, voicing my own grateful, somewhat short, goodbyes.

Then, I turned to my brother. He evaded my eye contact for a moment or two. Then he pulled me in. Tight.

Out of nowhere, “I’m sorry if he ruined your summer.”

Tensing up from the words, the mention of him, I slowly pulled back from Sam’s embrace. He held onto my back, sort of cradling me. The guilt lying in his eyes was far worse than anything I’d ever seen flash across his face. My own gaze softened from the taut expression it had anxiously contorted to.

“What?” I breathily inquired, unsure if I had heard him correctly, saddened that he was obviously carrying so much hurt from my stupid mistakes. “Why? Sam, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know, Daz, I just…” Sam’s arms fell from around me. I missed the warmth as soon as the chill of the vast room settled in around my sweatshirt. He ran a veiny hand across his forehead, “I'm supposed to be there for you. Protect you. And I already suck at the first part.”

“Sam,” I grasped his wrist, slipping his fingers between my hands. “It’s not your fault. It’s…honestly, if my summer was ruined, it was because of my own shitty decisions. Besides, you don’t suck at being there for me. I can’t believe you would even think that!”

I clasped his hand tight between mine, brows furrowed. To hear him blame himself, to hear him look this way…This whole summer, I had spent my time obsessing over somebody who didn’t even want me. I should have paid more attention to my brother, who was part of the reason I was here in the first place.

The farther I got from the start of this journey, literally and figuratively, the blurrier my original dreams became. There was no meaning to find here- only what was already there.

The thought made me lick my lips in nervous realisation.

Sam let out a frustrated, breathy chortle. “Don’t give me so much credit. I’ve been…gone. Running away from home. For so long. Worried about getting out of that apartment and town and away from…from anything that could remind me of her. Remind me of mom. I left you behind in the process.”

The wetness in my eyes began to pour over. “Oh, Sam,” my lips trembled out as I dove back into his arms. I dug my fingers into his shoulders, holding onto him as though an airplane would dive down and pull him away. I needed this. This kind of hug. This moment.

Clarity was nearer than ever before.

“Listen,” I pulled back, “I need you to understand, okay? My summer was not ruined. It wasn’t. This entire experience has been the most amazing, wonderful, awesome, cool time. I got to spend so much time getting to see you, getting to see your world. And, don’t ever blame yourself for getting away. You had to. I see it now- You had to come be a part of this wonderful band, go with them on all of their amazing tours. I see it on your face, Sam. This is what you’re supposed to do, okay? My mistakes are my own. Not yours.”

“I just…” Sam stared at the floor for a moment, tongue quick to go and defend his original claim But he paused and let the information process. “I…I just wish I could punch him in the face or something. What a douche. Dragging you into his mess. I should’ve known, too. The way he treated you- it was so obvious. For that, I am sorry, Daisy. I should’ve said something. Honestly,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I should beat his ass.”

Max and Ronnie, who had been trying to make it appear as though they were not eavesdropping, laughed at the last line. I opened up Sam and I’s moment by taking a step back. I gave them space to join us here. Ronnie clasped Sam’s hand and rested her head on his shoulder, “As funny as that would be, he is still your boss. And your bandmate,” she nodded to Max.

The tall blond rolled his eyes with a scoff, “Don’t worry. I’ll try to keep it civil.”

It was my turn to scold. I punched Max in the shoulder to gain his eye contact, “Don’t try. Just do it. He’s not a bad person. He just…sucks. A little bit.”

Talking about him, living in the truth of the situation, confronting all the dark realizations- it was a heavy weight to bear. I felt my shoulder slinking forward, as though I were Atlas with the dark, cloudy sky above me. Though I didn’t want to be rid of these three, I needed to be gone already. I needed to go before it all came crashing down again. I didn’t want anybody else to see me cry again. It was…embarrassing, to say the least.

So, I allowed one last hug from each of them and then turned towards my gate. I boarded the plane, mindlessly, going through all of the motions. Like I was used to leaving, like I was good at it. Like I was strong. But, I felt weak. I felt heavy and sad and angry and…

The city was gray. I remember it being sunny, summer-weather, though there had been a chill in the air. He always said it was. Maybe it always had been and I was…crazy. Wide-eyed. Desperate or naive or whatever.

But it was clear as day now, how dreary it looked from this airplane window. The wind whipped at the airline workers, shuffling luggage to their places, green vests billowing up. My breath fogged at the window which narrowed my pointed gaze. It seemed the plane was being pumped full of heat. I hadn’t realized it was that cold outside.

I guess fall was coming.

“Ladies and gentleman, this is your reminder to place your devices on airplane mode. We are approaching take-off,” a thick, European accent declared over the PA system.

I wrestled to retrieve my phone from my bookbag, which was squished in between my feet. When I was able to lift it towards me, the screen lit up. There was a buzz from the device that vibrated my hand then the appearance of a text message.

Oliver: Daisy, I need to tell you…

The message cut itself off, only the sneakpeek visible due to the system settings I had on my device.

It was ominous, though, like it had chosen to cut itself off there.

The tail end of that message could be- anything.

Daisy, I need to tell you…you’re a dumb bitch?

…I fucking hate you.

I love you?

Please, stay?

I don’t think I wanted to know.

My thumb hesitated over the screen, barely gracing it’s smooth glass. If I tapped on the message, if I saw what he said…would it change things?

Would it make me hate him even more?

Would it make me want to stay?

I didn’t want anything else to make my decisions anymore. I wanted to make my own choices, based on my own actions, thoughts. I was tired of living up to everybody’s image of me. If that was all I learned this summer, to be true to what I wanted, to be true to myself…then maybe this summer wasn’t so bad after all.

Maybe there had been something to find- maybe that something was me.

The shaking in my hands must’ve made the screen react to a ghost of my fingerprint. The option to scan my face ID came as soon as a flight attendant passed by my section, a bright smile on their face.

“Hi, friend! Did you put your device on airplane mode?” They asked with a slight gesture towards my phone.

I glanced back at the screen as she pointed. The message was open. That’s where it had ended, what Oliver had sent to me. “I need to tell you something.” But, he was still typing, still coming up with words to say.

My hands moved quickly, sliding down the menu and thumbing the airplane option. If he were still typing, I couldn’t see it anymore.

And any messages he may try to send would go green, undelivered, lost.

Forgotten, in the skies, somewhere between London and Germany, during the beginning of a cold, cold autumn.

[cerastes]

I tried the desert but got my shitmud rocked so I am bad at this game type so just what is the skill floor for it, do I need a large list of e2 units (I suck at that cause my squad is if it works dont try new ops and its been working for a long time)

RA2 is not only very endgame, it also seeks to challenge you with lots of moving parts that make you immensely strong if you know how they work, but conversely the game mode is balanced around the fact that you have access to these incredibly powerful tools and are expected to use them. Not master them, for sure, or even be great with them, just use them; I have made a joke out of RA2 several times on my stream, my people over there can testify when I say RA2 is easy when you know what you're doing.

You do need a lot of units to get the most out of the game mode, not just to deploy them in different fights to counter specific bosses' weaknesses and counter their strengths -- one boss is extremely strong against blocking comps but weak against structures, another is the opposite and wrecks structures but is weak against AoE and a solid blocker, some have sky high RES and low DEF, some have sky high DEF and low RES, one boss fully heals if you don't kill its phase 2 in time and goes back to phase 1, another boss has huge Arts aoe, and so on -- but also to make the most out of powerful Logistic bonuses in which you stow away Operators for bonuses depending how high level they are and what class they are, and expeditions for extra resources every 6 days, or on a 3 day cycle since you can have two teams out like this.

There's food recipes that give you immense stat bonuses and other advantages like extra block, more SP recovery, status resistance, reduced DP and redeployment cost, ignore DEF or RES per attack, and so on. There's a multitude of tools like 12 seconds of Stun with Mr. Booms, applying Freeze with Ice Blaster IIs, extra SP charging with Support Stations, and lots more. There's incredibly powerful structures like Urban Barriers which redirect your enemy's intended path in Blue Box maps, net launchers that Bind for several seconds, smoke launchers that inflict 10 seconds of high Fragile, and most powerful of them all, your own freaking ranged tiles on demand.

You are expected to interact with all of these aspects to properly succeed in RA2. Not master them, not become great with them, just interact with them, in addition to having a varied team. Critical Contentions, which is completely optional, requires a deeper mastery of these tools, but RA2 baseline? Just using them at all will make you much stronger.

...Now, with respect and because this is not our first dance together, I'll immediately say this since I know it's coming: If you really don't like being forced to use other units besides the small team you like and want, then don't play the game mode but also don't complain that the game is badly designed because it doesn't let you clear everything with the same team. I very much dislike that complaint because the game could not possibly be more explicit in its intent that you use different teams, adjust your strategy and experiment. Out of all gacha games, Arknights is the sole game that actually accommodates this explicit drive for variance by outfitting you with several strong welfare units and a spread of 3*s that are actually very strong and completely viable without needing you to get lucky at the gacha. If you decide you like to play the game with just your chosen few, that's completely valid and I would even say borders on adding a challenge, go for it, but don't complain that the game fails in its design when it doesn't let you clear either by lack of skill or because you decided to go against the grain of its explicit intent for you to use varied teams. I do not respect that complaint in the slightest and I do not wish to engage with it.

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 13

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel x Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Dannan x Plus Size Reader.

Summary: Reader and Ruhn have a heart to heart and your friendship finally begins to move forward. Those from Midgard also learn some interesting information from their most recent trip.

Word Count: 5.8 K

Warnings: Some mild spoilers for Cresent City 3. If you haven't read this series, or this book I highly recommend that you do as parts of this story will make much more sense in the next chapter.

Author's Note: I'm so sorry for the delay of this chapter. December was an extremely rough month for me. I'm going to be talking with my psychiatrist about a possible medication change to see if that will give me some more energy and focus without adding to my anxiety.

As always, a HUGE thank you to my beta reader @hardcoremarvelfan for all her help!

Series Masterlist Divider by @/tsunami-of-tears

Previous: Chapter 12 Pt2 Next: Chapter 14

Ruhn didn’t even register that he had fallen asleep until he turned over and a bright light attempted to penetrate the darkness of his closed eyes. Groaning, he turned back over, his arm draping over the plush body next to him. A soft gasp caused Ruhn to open his eyes to find (e/c) orbs staring directly at him. 

“Uh…” Ruhn cleared the gravel from his throat as he gave the woman a sheepish smile, “Hi?” (Y/N) glared at him for a brief moment. Ruhn held his breath waiting for her to berate and kick him out. However, her expression softened before she pressed her forehead against his chest. 

“You’re home,” Her voice was soft, muffled by how close her face was to his chest. Ruhn had to suppress the shiver her warm breath generated on his skin.  

“Of course,” He carefully tightened his hold on her waist. “I had no intention of not coming back. Just…took me a bit longer to get here than I thought it would.” She nodded against his chest; however, the softness of the moment was short-lived.

“You fucking jackass!” She perched herself on her elbow before smacking the center of his chest. “Do you have any idea how worried I was last night? Where the hell were you?” Ruhn couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him as he looked at her stern expression. 

“I’m sorry,” He apologized through his laughter. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I was out with Cassian. Apparently I looked like a kicked puppy, so he thought alcohol would make that better.”

“Don’t blame Cassian,” She narrowed her eyes. “You knew perfectly well that…” She paused, releasing a long breath through her nose. “You know what, you don’t owe me any explanation or apology. You’re a grown male and capable of making your own decisions.” Her eyes returned to his, and Ruhn had the good sense to recognize that there was more on her mind. He knew that a week of active avoidance between them would require work to recover from. 

“I do owe you at least one apology for what happened last week,” He corrected. “That is if you’re willing to listen to me now.”

“Excuse me?” The woman sat up fully. “You could have apologized at any-”

“Would you have actually listened to me before you had a chance to calm down?” He smiled softly. She narrowed her eyes again, but allowed him to continue. “I know that you needed some time.” After a moment she relaxed her expression, laying back down against the pillows. 

“I hate the fact you know me so well,” She turned her head to look up at the ceiling, “But you’re right. I did need that time.” 

“I know,” Ruhn teased, watching as she rolled her (e/c) eyes. He paused before his voice took on a more somber tone. “I am sorry for what I said on your birthday. I didn’t…I never want you to feel like you’ve been forgotten. You mean too much to…everyone here.” He paused, allowing his lackluster apology to sink in. He couldn’t tell her exactly what he revealed to Azriel a few hours ago. He couldn’t tell the woman lying next to him that he was in love with her. Not just yet anyway, not while there were things he needed to figure out if he wanted to do things right. 

“Thank you, Ruhn.” She turned on her side to face him again. “I know you didn’t mean to be hurtful. While there is a lot that needs to be…worked out; I just want things to go back to how they were before. Return to the day to day life with one of my best friends.” Ruhn could tell that her words also held a mixed bag of emotions. He doubted that he knew the subtle twitch of the corner of her lips before curling up into a half-hearted smile indicated she was attempting to prevent tears from springing to her eyes. 

“Friend…yeah” Ruhn paused. “I haven’t been a very good one of those have I? I’ve kept you at a bit of a distance, and that isn’t exactly fair to you.”  

“You went through a lot. You don’t have to tell me anything about your past if you don’t want to.” Her voice was gentle. “And I shouldn’t be holding that against you.” 

“That isn’t the reason I’ve held back,” He admitted. “I’ve been so scared that…it's been a few years and fear has ruled almost all of my actions. I don’t want that to continue, at least not with you.” 

(Y/N) nodded, understanding evident in her eyes as her gaze met Ruhn’s. A heavy silence fell between them. Ruhn could tell that she was allowing him time to decide how the rest of the morning would unfold. As the silence in the room pressed on, she remained curled up against his side, head resting on his shoulder. Her hand lazily-and likely absent mindedly-following the geometric pattern of the tattoo spanning from his left bicep to his shoulder and extending down to his left pectoral. 

He wanted to savor this quiet moment. The peace of lying next to her warmth and softness. If there was ever a perfect moment to open up to the human woman, now would be the time. Ruhn recalled that when he first started to share his personal history with Agent Daybright he spoke to her of his father. He would have to start with something different this time. It was only the right thing to do to ensure that he didn’t treat (Y/N) like a replacement.   

“Would you like to hear about my mother?” His voice broke through the comfortable silence. She tilted her head up, a soft hum of confirmation.

“Please.” Her voice was soft as she looked up at him. 

“Her name is Lorin…” As soon as Ruhn began to speak to her about his mother, it was like the flood gates had finally burst open. He rambled from one topic to another, and he certainly hadn’t intended to reveal so much of the trauma he endured at the hands of his father. She quietly listened to everything he shared. No judgment or pity filled her eyes. She never interrupted, only nodding occasionally to show she was following him. He even shared a few things that he had not spoken to many people about. Not only did he explain how the tattoos started as a way to cover up scars, but he also told her the meanings that each design held for him. 

A rendition of the Starsword, surrounded by a few simple stars, covered the inside of his left forearm. He recounted the details of his Ordeal, the desperation he felt to find a way to protect his friends, Declan and Flynn, his brothers if he was being honest. On the outer side of the left forearm were roses mixed with thorn covered vines. While he had grown to hate his Father’s villa in FiRo, it had been where he grew up. 

Above that, in the space of his inner bicep, was a simple design of The Embrace. He explained the image depicted Solas and Cthona coming together as one. This led to him talking to her about how each of Midgard’s houses were blessed by or honored at least one of the five major deities from his world. While Solas was the deity for his own House, he couldn’t remember exactly why he had been so compelled to have what was more commonly regarded as a symbol for the House of Earth and Blood inked into his skin. It took him a minute to realize this was the last tattoo he had gotten before their attempt to overrun the Asteri. Shortly after he had started speaking to Agent Daybright. However, he kept that last bit of information to himself as he remembered who Agent Daybright turned out to be…and which House she belonged to. 

He continued to his right arm, a series of braided knots covered the entirety of his right forearm, the design covering the area that held the worst of his scars. The outer bicep depicted a tree, its branches creating an intricately woven knot and its roots a mirror image. A perfect balance above and below. Her hands traced along each of the designs. He thought he heard her muttering to herself as she examined the tree, taking extra care to outline and follow each branch and root pattern.   

“I’ve seen this tree before,” She admitted softly. “Yggdrasil, the Tree of Life. It was believed in some parts of my world to be what holds the nine worlds of the cosmos.” The woman paused, and Ruhn could see the gears in her mind twirling. “No… ” With a quick shake of her head she sat up, pushing the covers to the side. 

“No, what?” Ruhn sat up as well, moving to follow her. 

“Where did you get the idea for this tattoo?” She asked, brows bunched up together as she stared at the black ink design. He had yet to add any color to it. Mainly because he wasn’t sure what colors best suited the image. It was one of his more rare black and white dreams where it first appeared. 

“I-I saw it in a dream,” His voice was slightly hesitant. He had never told anyone that before. He always made up some story about seeing it in an art piece on Avallen decades ago. But for some reason, the truth slipped from his lips as he looked at her. 

“What was the name of the deity for that scary house in Midgard again?” Her eyes remained on the roots of the tree as her hands twisted up sheets in front of her. 

“Scary…you mean the House of Flame and Shadow?” Ruhn continued to watch as (Y/N) nodded acknowledgement. “Urd, a Goddess of Fate. While she may be considered more of the patron of that house, all of Midgard honors her in some fashion.” 

“What do depictions of her look like on Midgard?” She finally looked at him. Again, Ruhn could see that her mind was putting together bits of information. Information that he knew she would only continue to withhold. 

“I honestly don’t really know. There aren’t very many pictures of statues of her outside of the Bone Quarter in Lunathion. That’s where her temple is believed to be. Only the dead and necromancers are really allowed over there. Unless you have a death mark. Which are not at all easy to get.”  She nodded again, chewing her lower lip and picking at her thumb nail. Her (e/c) eyes staring off into the distance. “What’s going on, (Y/N)?” His use of her name snapped her out of whatever rumination plagued her mind. 

“Nothing,” She shook her head a final time before a smile took over her features. “We should probably get some breakfast going. You can tell me some more about your Ordeal and the Drop.” 

The months after Ruhn’s apology, things returned to normal for the most part. The biggest change for the better was that your and Ruhn’s friendship improved significantly. He moved all of his belongings back into your bedroom, including things that you didn’t know he still kept in the other room at all. He also resumed sleeping in the bed with you each night. The only exceptions were the times he went to Midgard, which were becoming more frequent. He explained that his friends, Declan and Flynn, had spent months looking on their own for any information regarding the Star sword and Truth Teller. This, of course, resulted in him finally opening up to you about all the events that preceded his capture by the Asteri. Listening to him recount the highlights of the year before you met had never made you feel more grateful for being a person of no importance back on your own world.  

His opening up did have perks as he also filled you in on many of the Fae traditions and life on Midgard in general. You had so many theories running through your head that your attention couldn’t be divided anywhere else when the subject of life on Midgard came up. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you listened to him so intently. The way those blue-violet eyes of his lit up…it was clear that cared deeply for those that had remained on Midgard. He missed them fiercely, his family. That’s really who they all were to him, his family. Despite Bryce and Hunt also being in Prythian alongside him, it was clear that he struggles with being separated from the bulk of his family. You had to suppress the intrusive desire of wanting to be included in that sentiment. Any time the thought arose you found yourself remembering that the events on your birthday were simply a fluke. Just because you grew close with the male, didn’t mean he saw you as anything more than a friend. He was no different in that regard to Lucien, a simple yet close friend. 

It was a strange concept to think about. You had been in Prythian for nearly five years, and you still felt like an outsider. An intruder posing as someone who is supposed to belong. To anyone looking in from the outside it would look that way. Nanny for the High Lord and Lady, friends with the first Valkyries in centuries, and routinely seen around Velaris with the elusive and infamous Shadowsinger. Regardless of what they all said or how close you had become over time, you could still feel the tension from where you were kept at a distance. You couldn’t exactly blame them either. You were mortal. You would die in just a few short decades while the rest of them would continue to live on for centuries if not millenia. 

The only person that you knew, with absolute certainty, saw you as an included member of their life was Nyx. You were well aware of how much the little heir adored you, and you adored him in turn. Knowing that there would be at least one person- 

The landing of Hunt’s feet on the cobblestones outside the townhouse distracted you from further diving into a downward spiral. The crunching of stone was followed by the beating of wings as he took off again, likely to get whomever he had left over at the Moonstone gate they built at the Sidra’s edge near the River House. No sooner than hearing the angel take off again did Bryce burst through the front door. 

“(Y/N)!” Her voice held an excited sing-song lilt. The corner of your  lip twitched up as she rounded the corner from the foyer into the parlor. Bryce’s crimson hair flowed around her, reminding you that despite her half human heritage she looked fully Fae. You tried to push the faint sting of envy, reminding yourself that she doesn’t exactly enjoy that half of her heritage. Though you knew she’d be grateful when she finally realized her long life span will allow her to have as much time with her mate and found family that many humans crave.  

“I have a surprise for you,” Bryce continued, bringing a wrapped gift box out from behind her back. The absolute look of mischievous glee on her face was the only thing that gave you any pause. You still took the fairly large box from her outstretched arms before the two of you resumed sitting on the sofa. 

“What is this? My birthday was six months ago and it’s not yet solstice,” You asked, eyeing the perfectly square package. Nothing about the box or its wrapping gave away what the contents could possibly be, and there wasn’t anything that either of you had specifically discussed her getting from a more “modern” world. 

Bryce had been kind enough to obtain some basic feminine essentials for you during some of her past trips to Midgard. You were extremely grateful for her efforts in gathering a variety of period products for you. You spent your first few cycles bleeding through scraps of cloth and felt like you were practically confined to your bedroom and the ensuite bathroom. You quickly decided that you did not want to spend a week every month in that condition. While you had asked the females in your new life how they managed their own cycles, Nesta explained that High Fae only experienced two cycles a year. Due to the infrequency of cycles the pain was reported to be nearly unbearable and resulted in many females being completely bedridden. Nesta also confirmed that scrap linens were the preferred method of keeping things clean for humans and Fae alike, regardless of the financial resources available. 

“Just open it,” Bryce encouraged, plopping the box into your lap. “Especially if you don’t want the guys to see what’s inside.” She tapped the top of the box, a shallow sounding thud indicating that the box was entirely filled with only the Gods knew what. You lifted the box, examining the meticulous wrapping. Each corner of the golden paper was tucked in tightly and secured. 

“What the hell did you get then?” You narrowed your eyes in her direction as you held the box up to your ear and began to shake it. “Doesn’t Hunt know anyway?” You set the box down when it didn’t make any sounds. 

“Nope,” Bryce chirped. “If he did, he would not have let me give that to you.” Her smile grew as she patted the box again. 

“Okay, now I’m worried.” You eyed her warily, your fingers subtly twitching against the smooth surface of the paper. “Do I even want to know what this is?” 

“Yes, you do.” She moved closer to you on the couch. “I can say with absolute certainty that some, if not all, of the items in there will be…useful in the future.” Her amber eyes shone as bright as the starlight that simmered under her light bronze skin.  You rolled your eyes at her playful insistence and quickly tore open the golden wrapping. The box itself was fairly nice, sturdy and could be easily kept to hold whatever its contents already included. 

“I swear to whatever is holy Bryce if this is some-” The words immediately died on your tongue and your jaw literally dropped. Bryce erupted in a fit of giggles at seeing your shocked expression. Inside the box was a plethora of items that made up what you could only describe as a ‘family planning care package’. You could admit upon immediate inspection that at least half the items in the box would be useful. PH balancing feminine wash, extra sanitary pads, a few reusable menstrual discs and cups. The other items…well, she was right that you definitely didn’t want anyone else seeing the contents. Especially Ruhn. You didn’t know how you’d explain the presence for the large box of condoms, two decently sized bottles of lubricant, two packages of pregnancy tests and…

“Ovulation tests? Are you fucking kidding me Bryce?” You wanted to be mad, but her laugh was too infectious. You fell into your own fit of laughter right alongside her. Through your laughter you took another look at the box of condoms.

“Fucking hell, how much sex do you think I’m going to be having?” You held up the box of condoms, a variety pack, and began to examine it. “One hundred condoms? Really?” You shook the box at her for added emphasis on just how ridiculous the item was. 

“Hey, I just wanted to make sure that one of my closest friends had everything that she would need.” Bryce managed to defend through her continued laughter. “Especially if she is going to continue sleeping with my brother.” 

“Bryce! You know perfectly well Ruhn and I are not like that,” You placed the care package in between the two of you while the box of condoms remained in your grasp. 

“Sure, whatever you say,” She smirked, the deep red of her lip stick amplifying her mischievous tone. “Then this can all be for whenever you do meet that special someone, which you will.” She held up a finger to silence the objection which was poised on the tip of your tongue. “I know this, because you’d be-” 

“A novelty, Bryce. Anywhere I go in this city I am looked at as a novelty.” Your voice took on a slight edge. “I am the only human living in the Night Court. Hell, I’m the only human living in all of Prythian.” You sighed, setting the box of condoms in your lap. 

“Which is exactly why I picked a variety pack,” She smirked, completely ignoring your statement. Your eyes followed her elegant finger as it pointed to the side edge of the box.  “Glow in the dark.” 

“Oh sweet Jesus,” Your laughter returned and doubled as you read the words on the box, directly under the list of flavors making up a quarter of the box’s contents. Tears of laughter quickly filled your eyes as Bryce broke down right beside you on the couch in the parlor. The two of you were so busy laughing that you didn’t hear Hunt return with Ruhn in tow. 

“What are you two so giggly for?” Ruhn smiled from the entrance to the parlor. Still facing Bryce your eyes went wide, the box of family planning items still opened between you and the half fae female. Without even needing the ability to speak mind to mind, Bryce immediately started helping you repack the box with lightning quick reflexes. 

“Nothing! It’s nothing!” You shouted, sliding the box under the couch. Once it was fully tucked away you looked up at the male. Your jaw dropped for the second time and gasped, “What the fuck did you do to your hair!” You stared at Ruhn, eyes watering as you stood to meet him. The past two months Ruhn had allowed the hair on the shaved side of his head to fill in. You had been unsure as to why, but now you knew. You lifted your hand to the right side of his head, where the beautiful waist length locks had once flowed. 

“I know,” Ruhn brought his hand up and gently grasped your fingers. His hair was short, equal in length on both sides. The style honestly reminded you of Azriel’s typical cut. However, the fresh cut combined with Ruhn’s features made his resemblance to Rhysand all the more striking. 

“You’re not sleeping next to me when you look like him,” There was no laughter in your voice. 

“It will grow back, don’t worry,” He reassured, his fingers interlacing with yours as he led you both back to the couch. His arm easily fell along the back of your shoulders as he leaned in to kiss your temple. You felt your lips twitch trying to suppress the smile. Your friendship had certainly gone back to normal, yes, but there were times when he was a little more affectionate than before. Just like he was right now. From the corner of your eye you saw Bryce’s wide knowing grin. You’d have to remind her, yet again, that your relationship with Ruhn was platonic. Even though a small part of you wanted the dynamic to go in a more romantic direction. 

“I tried to tell him he didn’t need to cut it that short,” Hunt joined in on the conversation, sitting himself on the arm of the couch behind Bryce. His own hair also appeared freshly cut compared to the last time you saw him. 

“And steal your and Cassian’s signature look? I don’t have the wings to pull it off, ” Ruhn joked, his blue-violet eyes turning towards you. “Besides, it's not exactly like I wanted to cut it.”  His thumb gently stroking the sliver of exposed skin on your shoulder. 

“So why did you?” You asked, your hand reached out again and this time he allowed you to pinch a few strands between your fingers. 

“Well, I had planned to just grow it all out.” He answered, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “But that prick was right. Even with the long hair I’d be too recognizable.” You bunched your eyebrows together as you looked between them. 

“Our father,” Bryce supplied, her tone now short and clipped. You nearly choked on air at the news. A sinking feeling in your stomach had you anticipating that this last trip was much more eventful than any of their previous trips to Midgard had been over the past few years. 

“Your father?” You angled your body towards Ruhn. “You saw him?” 

“Yeah, and we actually had a fairly interesting conversation,” Ruhn admitted. 

“If you count not immediately being turned over to the Asteri as interesting,” Hunt added, a slight smirk on his lips. You blinked, trying to prepare yourself for whatever asinine reasoning they could have had for going to such a well guarded location such as the Autumn King’s villa given their high profile fugitive status. 

“Why would you even risk a trip like that?” You focused your attention on Ruhn, even though you were fairly certain the entire meeting was likely an impromptu affair by Bryce. Both siblings had told you all about their respective histories with the selfish male that sired them. It went without saying that you had no desire to ever meet the asshole. “How do you know that he isn’t planning to just turn you in the second you all get back to Midgard? What was so important that you had to risk-”

“Easy sweetheart,” Ruhn reassured, his arm bringing you closer to his frame. “We had very good reason, and at this point seeing him and getting the information we got out weighed the risks.” He met your eyes, his expression soft as he tried to subtly comfort your worries.  

“Fine,” You relented. “What did you learn then?” You settled back into your spot on the couch as you waited for them to explain.

“We learned what the Star Sword and Truth Teller may be able to create when used together,” Bryce answered. “Something that may be able to destroy the Asteri.” Her voice no longer held any hint of the playful spirit it had moments ago. You sat up straighter. This was news you had not anticipated hearing. In fact, you had hated to admit that you long gave up any hope that you would live long enough to hear any good news for your friends in their efforts to rescue their world. If the blades could truly be combined to destroy the Asteri, well that was worth risking a visit to their father. Honestly, that was information worth risking everything. 

“What…” You were at a loss for words. “W-what can they do?” Your voice was hesitant, and you hoped that they didn’t see the true reason behind your question. You knew it was important for them to be able to go home. You also knew that once the Asteri were gone, the three of them would return to Midgard permanently. You tried to stop the thoughts of how much you would lose if the trio left Prythian so soon. Specifically, the loss of one of the people that had become so important to you. The fact that you didn’t want to be parted from Ruhn permanently hit you like a ton of bricks. It was only Ruhn’s gentle squeezing of your shoulder that pulled you back to the moment.  

“Legend has it the two blades are supposed to open a portal when combined,” Bryce’s voice was eerily calm, “Specifically, a portal to Nowhere.” 

“What?” You stared at her, waiting for a punchline that never came. “Nowhere? Really? You’re telling me the giant skull of a deceased Celestial is real and floating around somewhere in the universe?” All three of them looked at you as if you had morphed into said giant skull. “Guardians of the Galaxy? Come on, you don’t have the MCU or Marvel comics in your world?” While Bryce and Hunt stared at you with confused expressions, you could make out the subtle twitch of Ruhn’s lips as he suppressed a desire to laugh. “Nowhere is the name of the skull in the Marvel Cinematic Universe…or multiverse…point is I was trying to be funny.” 

“You are funny,” Bryce’s lip finally curled up in a half smile. “At least I assume you are when your audience knows what it is you’re referencing.” You gave her an exasperated smile before tilting your head back and groaning.  

“Okay, so what the hell does your father mean by ‘Nowhere’ then?” You asked leaning back against the couch. Ruhn’s arm remained draped over your shoulder, his thumb resuming its gentle strokes along your skin.  

“Unfortunately the fucker was less than helpful in that regard,” Bryce’s good humor was gone again at the reminder of the Autumn King. 

“She means that he wasn’t entirely sure,” Ruhn clarified. “All he found on the subject was what the blades were supposed to do and nothing more. However, he indicated that maybe the Fae archives on Avallen held more information that he had yet to locate.” You couldn’t suppress the snort quick enough. Hearing the name of the island where the Fae first settled on Midgard always amused you. Another item to the growing list of similarities between your world and theirs. 

“Well that is maddeningly unhelpful,” You shook your head softly and pulled your legs up onto the couch. You leaned your body closer to Ruhn’s. 

“Yes, but there is one positive.” Hunt gently reminded both siblings. “He already had Flynn and Dec looking in the archives.” 

“They didn’t even find anything useful,” Bryce countered, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Yes they did,” Ruhn snapped. “The series of maps they found-”

“Show nothing but the fact that land masses change over millennia,” Bryce spat. 

“Bryce,” Hunt’s calm tone cut through their bickering. “It may not have been what we were hoping to find, but the information is interesting.” Hunt took a moment to look towards you. “Dec and Flynn found maps of Avallen, some of which included smaller islands that had since disappeared. The disappearance of the smaller islands wasn’t over thousands over years, but within a couple of decades, which makes the information interesting.”

“Yeah, land masses don’t change that quickly Bryce,” Ruhn added childishly. You smacked his chest before shushing him. His sister responded with her own equally childish response of sticking her tongue out in Ruhn’s direction. 

“That is interesting,” You looked between Ruhn and Hunt. “But I’m with Bryce on this. How is that information relevant to defeating the Asteri?” 

“It likely isn’t relevant,” Hunt conceded. “But the land where the Starborn Fae settled in Midgard underwent massive changes and significant loss of fertile land. I don’t think that’s a coincidence when their former home underwent similar changes.” 

“The Prison island…” Your voice trailed off as Hunt nodded, a soft approving smile on his face.

“I told you she was smart,” Ruhn boasted. “Hunt and I came to the same conclusion. Something caused the islands to become barren.”

“Well according to that magical hologram Silene left, the land was reduced to its waste land status after she made it into the prison,” Bryce added. “A collection of nasties poisoning all traces of life apart from themselves.” You felt the gears turning in your mind. It was hard to argue that both islands would become practically devoid of life around the same time by chance. The list of potential reasons was endless. Anything from a saturation of dark energy to a specific spell to a lack of magic entirely. You also speculated that perhaps Midgard and whatever planet you were currently occupying were mirrors or alternative versions of each other. Though, there was more evidence that both worlds were part of the same universe rather than some type of multiverse bullshit. A confirmation of the existence of a multiverse was not quite on your bingo card for expected life experiences. Then again, neither was going through a magical portal and landing in a world that you- 

“Bryce, you need to take me to the Prison island again.” You turned to face her fully. “Please. I don’t care what Rhysand says, I need to see the island and those tunnel carvings for myself.” The half-fae female looked at you, her eyes studying the determination on your face. 

“Alright,” Bryce’s conspiratorial smile returned. You knew that she enjoyed any opportunity to piss off the High Lord. “When do you want to leave? We can even go right now if you want.” She stood from her spot on the couch.  

“Oh no,” Ruhn immediately stated, also standing from his spot next to you on the couch. “You’re not going by yourselves.” 

“I agree,” Hunt looked at Bryce. “I know that you’ve been down there several times now, but you’ve made the Drop and you’re a badass, but…(Y/N) is human.” He softened his eyes as he looked at you. 

“Are you Alphaholes for fucking real?” Bryce scoffed, hands immediately going to her hips. “She has daily training with two 500 year old warriors AND the two of you. You really think that she’s not a badass in her own right by now?” Despite Bryce’s faith in your self-defense skills you knew Hunt was right. Your eyes met Hunt’s, his expression reflecting what you knew was true. You may be able to defend yourself in some scenarios, but your body couldn’t heal itself in the same way if you were to get injured. The chances of you surviving any major injury were significantly smaller. However, the reminder that you were simply a fragile human stung nonetheless. 

“Yeah, I am being ‘for real’,” Ruhn met his sister’s glare. “We have no idea what kind of creatures are in the prison. We also don’t exactly know our way around apart from a single path down to that room leading to the tunnels.” Bryce rolled her eyes. 

“Well I can’t teleport more than two others plus myself. So unless you’ve managed to finally learn long distance travel through your shadows you might be stuck here as look out Big bro,” Her smile was less than friendly.  

“She needs protection Bryce, and no offense to Hunt, but if she went down he’s more likely to protect you than her,” Ruhn looked at the angel. You watched in silence as the two males just stared at each other. The two of them were clearly having a mind to mind conversation. 

“You know it's rude to have a private conversation in front of others,” You quipped, trying to help ease the tension from before. You turned and started to make your way to the staircase. “I’m going to get a warmer coat so the two of you had better figure out who's going with us by the time I get back.” 

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

Series tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie

@fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion

@randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine

@jpgtae @cheneyq @morganwdarius @latinxbipride @catharticlovewriter

@mis-lil-red @rcarbo1 @celmentine111002 @abacteriamicroorganismsalmonella

The crossed-out name means tumblr wouldn't let me tag you

[batcavescolony]

Katniss is such an unreliable narrator. She says "Then something unexpected happens. At least, I don't expect it because I don't think of District 12 as a place that cares about me" girl you deliver strawberries to the Mayor, you hunt and trade for the district, when you fell at Prim being chosen someone caught you, when you went to Prim people parted for you, when you volunteered EVERYONE stopped. Idk how to tell you but I think you're a pillar of the community.

[lazylittledragon]

the thing that i love so much about my relationship is that i feel absolutely zero pressure for us to be in eachother's pockets constantly. not just in the way that we like to have our own space sometimes but that i don't feel guilty for getting fixated on a project and not texting him or leaving him on read for a few hours. we have a system where i just say "i'm so sorry, i fell down the Art Hole again" and he says "that's ok, was the art hole fun, can i see what you did in there?". or if i have a feeling i'm going to draw until late at night i'll be like "pre warning, i might be in the art hole this evening" and when i'm done he's texted me goodnight anyway.

tldr: find someone who doesn't get mad at you for crawling into a hole and instead helps you out of the hole and asks what you saw down there

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 81

Danny blinked at the small children Ellie was holding the hand of, looking quite proud of herself. The small children- between ten and twelve so somewhere similar to Ellie’s age- who both practically stank of magic and Gods. 

He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose even as Dan cackled while opening the door more to let them inside. “Alright, what’s your name, kids?”

“B-billy…um, Billy Batson...” “‘m Percy! Percy Jackson.” 

“Nice to meet you two- any idea where in your family you have a god or two, because one of you definitely smells like Zeus and I’m pretty sure Poseidon and I am not dealing with either of my half-brothers.” 

[anonymouscheeses]

They are everything to me.

[wasabi-gumdrop]

thinking about modern au Kabru

ivy league college student, probably studying law and political science on a full scholarship. first time living away from Milsiril so he has to promise her, yes mom i’ll call you at least four times a week, no mom i don’t need your amex black card, yes mom the normal credit card is fine i need to learn how to budget like a Normal Person (it has a limit of $20k — that’s not normal Kabru).

Milsiril insists for a long time that she’ll just get him a house off campus so he can have his own space (aka a place she can drop by anytime and possibly live a few months out of the year just to be close to him) but Kabru puts his foot down and tells her the best way he’s gonna make friends is by living with other students (bye mom).

his floor in the coed dorms is the party floor and he always makes sure to invite everybody (his nightmare is accidentally leaving anyone out and having them think that he doesn’t like them). somehow it’s always a good time, everyone leaves with more friends than they came with, it never gets totally out of control, and plenty of girls who are interested in him (and a lot of guys too tbh) bring tons of baked treats so there’s always free food. Kabru is the RA’s favourite person to have in the building (even though Kabru himself is messy but most of the people he’s friends with are nice and clean up after themselves).

he has a porsche (Milsiril gift for his 16th bday) but he’s adamant about not driving it unless he absolutely has to (because he doesn’t wanna look like a douche). BUT he never says no when his friends ask for rides (so he ends up driving all the time anyway). he actually contemplates selling the porsche and going for a more practical car but Mickbell is like ‘dude you are not taking this away from me.’ Kabru sighs and decides to keep it because his friends (Mickbell) like being chauffeured around in a fancy convertible (Rin, Holm, and Dia don’t care, they’re just glad they don’t have to walk to the grocery store).

he’s probably on a casual texting basis with most of his professors and you know he’s going to all their office hours, grabbing beer with them just to keep chatting about life outside of school. and that’s how he winds up in some super secret faculty group chat where he’s now privy to all the college administration gossip.

Kabru is elected for student council during his freshman year and he’s probably the favourite to be sc president one day.

he doesn’t really date (gets too in his head about how he doesn’t wanna ruin any friendships) but he does hang out one on one with a lot of girls and treats them all really well. he probably goes so far out of his way to be platonic that he flies a little too close to the ‘Just Like One of the Girlies’ sun, he kinda forgets that most people interpret it as flirting coming from him. which leads to a few awkward conversations. people feeling led on, a few angry jealous boyfriends, scathing dms about him being a girl stealing homewrecker.

it’s such a nightmare for him and he needs it to end right now. so he begs Rin to ‘date’ him for a week or two and then publicly dump him just so the entire student body gets the message that he is Just A Friend.

Rin stares at him for a few seconds. then she laughs. she laughs and laughs. she laughs for a crazy long time. and then eventually she goes, ‘wow you’re an asshole, Kabru. no i won’t be your fake girlfriend. you’re gonna suffer and i’m going to enjoy it.’

and that’s when Kabru has a moment of enlightenment. ok yeah. asking for that is probably really selfish and mean. maybe he needs to think about girls’ feelings more and that’s maybe more important than his deep seated need to be liked, and when has Rin ever been wrong about anything.

he apologizes. and so begins one of the more serious talks he’s ever had with Rin about being okay with not being liked.

he thinks he can really turn over a new leaf. the whole ‘not worrying about what other people think’ thing goes pretty well — up until Kabru meets the aloof professor for his Monsters and Myths class who keeps forgetting and mispronouncing his name.

Kabru has never needed someone to like him So Bad, he needs Prof. Touden to like him as a matter of life and death, and he’s willing to look stupid for it (fails a midterm on purpose to justify begging for one on one tutoring)

[crystal-verse]

god i want. an au where it dosn't work. where it's just arr g'raha who's woken up, and he doesn't have all these memories and all these people keep looking at him like they're mourning someone. the world has changed and time has changed and all the people he knows have changed, but he hasn't changed, he was just sleeping, just sleeping, and the world nearly ended several times and apparently he helped prevent yet another end but he has no memory of this. they want him to join the scions. he does not know these people. (he barely knows the warrior of light, now, but did he ever truly know them in the first place?) his little sister is alive and well. she looks at him like a ghost. she's changed, and she's older than him now. he acts bratty and loud and brash to cover up the fact that he does not know anything it seems, and he is tired but he was sleeping for so long, so how could he be tired?

he doesn't know these people. they seem to know him. he wonders if he'd killed someone, when it was him and not that exarch who woke up. he wonders if it should have been him who was "killed" in that way, if it is him that lives and not that man who had known and become friends with all these figures from legend. he wonders if he'll always be fated to be a historian one step back from everything, because he simply cannot be a hero.