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imaginespazzi · 3 months

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Part 2: And Even Now

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

Because I'll never let this go (but I can't find the words to tell you)

(In which a deadline-averse writer actually lives up to a weekly deadline)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, A little bit of fluff I guess?

Words: 6.9K (back to my usual)

TW: Swearing (I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Happy Monday! Nobody get used to me actually updating on a proper weekly basis because really, let's be honest you're all lowkey shocked I'm actually living up to this too but we'll see how long I can make it last. As you read, let's just all remember my favorite three words: For. The. Plot! Editing and I continue to be sworn enemies so you'll definitely find typos along the way and feel free to point them out so that I can fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see next. Have a wonderful rest of your week my loves <3

February 2033

Azzi’s heart is beating a million miles per minute as she gets into her car. She’s just invited Paige into her world and even if she knows that it was the right thing to do for her team, the full force of what she’s just done is starting to hit her. The plan had been the exact opposite. In fact the plan had been to avoid Paige at all costs while she was here in Oakland. Azzi had spent nearly a decade building this new world of hers that was devoid of anything Paige and it had taken Ohemaa an hour, explaining why Paige was the last domino they needed to fall to win a championship, to convince Azzi to bulldoze her own walls.

Banging her head against the steering wheel, Azzi lets out a frustrated scream. She’d been the picture of calm and composed while talking to Paige, but internally an earthquake had started rumbling within her the minute she’d finally laid eyes on the blonde. It was unfair that age seemed to have no effect on Paige, unfair that she still made Azzi’s stomach do somersaults, unfair that that stupid smirk made Azzi nostalgic for a feeling she used to call home. It’s funny really. There was a time in Azzi’s life where she didn’t know how she’d survive without seeing Paige every day. But now if the blonde does accept her offer, Azzi thinks, seeing Paige every day, might just be her poison ivy.

The sound of her car doors opening shakes Azzi out of her pity party, as she rushes to compose herself before Stephie sees her. Through the rear view mirror, she watches as her daughter happily climbs into her car seat, a giddy smile on her face. And all the stress and anxiety seems to evaporate.

“What’s got you so happy Stephie bean? What did you and Aunty Leen do?” Azzi asks, so focused on Stephie’s grin, that she misses Colleen, who’s just let herself into the passenger seat, shaking her head.

“Aunty Leen lost me,” Stephie says coyly and Azzi immediately turns to Colleen whose head whips around to look at the little girl in the back seat.

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd are you lying on my good name?” she hisses.

“Stephie,” Azzi chides, catching on quickly “did you run away from Aunty Leen again?”

“She was boring me Mama,” Stephie whines, sticking her tongue out at Colleen, “and if I didn’t run away, then I wouldn’t have met Miss Buecks.”

Oh.

She told me she thinks I’d look good in purple.

Azzi’s breath hitches in her throat. She hadn’t quite registered that Paige’s words from before meant that she must have met Stephie, too busy finding a way to get out of the gym that was starting to feel just a little too hot. It only clicks now as Stephie starts to ramble about how she’d ran into a stranger in the chill room. But it’s not the idea of Stephie and Paige meeting that sends a shiver creeping up Azzi’s spine. No, it’s that enamored smile on Stephie’s face. It’s the way Azzi’s little girl’s eyes light up just saying those two syllables Miss Buecks. Maybe it’s genetic or perhaps just a Fudd family fatal flaw but Azzi can see a fourteen year old version of herself, blooming in Stephie. She’d hidden it well, behind exasperated head shakes and exaggerated eye rolls but falling in love with Paige Bueckers had been just a little to easy back then. Apparently, it still was.

“She was really nice Mama,” Stephie gushes and Azzi’s hand tightens on the steering wheel, “is she gonna come play for your team? I told her she should.”

“So I heard,” Azzi murmurs and she can feel Colleen’s eyes immediately shifting to look at her.

“You talked to Paige?” Azzi’s best friend asks, a skeptical lilt in her voice.

Azzi shrugs, “I ran into her in the gym.”

“And what exactly were you doing in the gym?”

“Looking for Paige,” Azzi says sheepishly as Collen makes an indiscernible noise.

“Did you ask her to join your team Mama?” Stephie chimes in eagerly from the back, unaware of the way that the childlike hope in her voice is putting her mother on edge. Azzi has built an impenetrable fortress around her own heart but she’d never considered that perhaps she should have built a moat around Stephie’s too.

“Yeah baby, I did,” Azzi admits slowly and this time Colleen lets an audible gasp, except it’s drowned out by a series of exhilarated squeals erupting from the backseat.

“MISS BUECKS IS GONNA JOIN MAMA’S TEAM,” Stephie screams, practically bouncing on her seat as she begins to repeat the phrase in a sing-song voice.

“Hold your horses, kid. She hasn’t said yes yet,” Azzi warns.

Stephie smiles secretly, “but she will Mama, I know she will.”

It makes Azzi feel lightheaded, the amount of trust Stephie seems to already have in a stranger. There’s a part of her that wants to crawl into her daughter’s mind and erase the memory of blonde hair and blue eyes because she knows, she knows better than anyone, that once you walk through that door, there is no coming back. And Paige would never willingly hurt Stephie -even after a decade apart Azzi has that much faith in the blonde- but that doesn’t mean that she wouldn’t break her heart any way.

Colleen turns to Azzi, a look of unmistakable concern on her face as she makes a show of putting her hand against the darker-skinned girl’s forehead, “are you feeling okay?”

“Oh fudge off,” Azzi groans, swatting away her best friend’s hand

“Azzi let me get this straight, you’re telling me you asked your e-x-g-i-r-l-f-r-i-e-n-d to join your team?”

“Look at you spelling Col, I’m so proud of you-”

“Don’t start,” Colleen shoots her a look and Azzi sighs, “what happened to going into Ohemaa’s office and making sure that didn’t happen?”

“I did what I had to,” Azzi shrugs, “I put the team first.”

“And what about-”

“Colleen please,” Azzi begs softly, a wave of tiredness washing over her, “it’s done okay. And it might not even matter. She might not even say yes.”

Colleen opens her mouth and then sighs, seeing something in Azzi’s face that convinces her not to push. There isn’t anyone else in the world who knows Azzi better than her best friend, except maybe the woman they’re talking about. Paige would’ve pushed, she always had. Pushed and pushed until Azzi was letting herself free fall off a cliff, only harnessed by Paige’s promise to catch her before she hit the ground. And then one day Azzi had unclipped the harness, and it was their relationship that had come crashing down.

“Mama,” Stephie’s inquisitive voice calls from behind and Azzi hums in response, starting up her car, “you knew Miss Bueckers when she was littler right?”

“I knew her when she was younger,” Azzi corrects gently and knew feels like an understatement. They’d lived in each other’s skin, carving themselves onto parts of each other they hadn’t even known existed until the other had come along.

“Same thing Mama,” Stephie huffs, “was she still so pretty then?”

And as pictures of a younger Paige, beautiful and vibrant like the sun shining on the pavement after a thunderstorm, dance through her mind, Azzi can’t stop the soft smile that flitters across her face.

“She’s always been the prettiest.”

***

Paige isn’t feeling particularly talkative when her phone rings, Talia’s name flashing on the CallerID. Her senses are still drowned in all things Azzi and she’s not quite ready to be rescued from the ocean of memories that have suddenly flooded her entire being. She wants to lose herself in them, let herself be drawn back to what was. Paige has spent the better part of the last decade running away from her past but today, for the first time, all she wants is to let this slideshow of nostalgia keep on playing through her mind.

“Talia if you’re calling just to say I told you so,” Paige sneers into the phone, finally picking it up after the ringing starts to give her a mild headache. She’d texted Thalia almost immediately after speaking to Azzi, a simple i think i could make the Valks work, purposely leaving out what, or more precisely who, had convinced her.

“I would never,” Talia says with a hint of amusement, “if I started telling you I told you so after every time I was right, I fear I’d never have anything else to say to you because I am in fact, always right.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “alright then if you’re done gloating.”

“I didn’t call to gloat,” the manager’s voice is more serious now, “I called to tell you that I talked to the Liberty and they have an offer.”

“The Liberty don’t have cap space,” Paige says slowly, stomach suddenly queasy.

“They don’t have cap space this season,” Talia corrects, “but things are gonna change for them with Sabrina retiring after this season and they can move a couple of other things around to give us what we want next season.”

“What exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying that the Valkyries don’t have to be anything more than a pit stop. I know I pressured you into this but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been trying to figure something else out for you behind the scenes.”

“And I assume you’ve talked to Ohemaa too then?”

Talia scoffs, “do I look like an amateur agent to you? Of course I have. This works for them too. If all goes to plan, they have the rights to Atlanta’s #3 pick in the draft and if the mocks have gotten it right, they’ll get Angie Davis.”

“The Stanford PG,” Paige breathes out.

“Exactly. She’ll get a year developing under you and then hopefully they won’t need you next year. And you won’t need them. Everybody wins.”

It sounds like the perfect solution. The Valkyrie’s would get what they need out of her and she’d get what she needed out of them. Then they’d part ways and Paige’s past would no longer be a factor in her present once she got to New York. One year and then everything would fall into place the way she’d wanted it to. It should fill her with excitement or relief or maybe even both but instead Paige feels nothing but unease, like she’s sealing herself to a fate of never truly having a home.

She rubs a tired hand across her face, “what if I don’t want to leave after a year?”

“Then we can talk about it in a year. You’re not signing anything other than a one-year contract with the Valkyries right now and letting both them and the Liberty know that you're keeping your options open,” Talia says, her tone perfectly business-like.

“Good,” Paige lets out a small sigh of relief at knowing she isn’t about to get herself legally bound to anything, “that’s good.”

“Why don’t you sound more happy about this Paige?” an irritated timbre slips into Talia’s words, “you were practically begging me to find you a way out of this and now that I have, it seems like you would rather I hadn’t.”

“The Valkyries are a good organization. Good front office, good GM, good coach, good facilities and you know how much I’ve always loved the Bay Area. Every time we’ve come here to play, the atmosphere has always been amazing. This place breathes basketball and I just wanna be a part of that,” and Paige means every word of it, even if there are other reasons at play.

“But you already knew all of that before you went down there Paige so cut the bullshit. Why exactly are you suddenly on board with all of this?” Talia asks, her voice hardening and Paige hates that her manager, who had really been more of a friend for the last couple of years, knows her just a little too well.

“I met someone-”

“Oh fucking hell,” Talia groans, “please tell me you’re not making career decisions with your pussy.”

“Don’t be crude Talia. After all these years, I think you’d know me better than that. I met a little girl,” an uncontrollably smitten grin flickers across Paige’s face as she thinks back to her conversation with Stephie, “and she- she made some good points about why I should be a Golden State Valkyrie. You’d be surprised how smart little kids are these days.”

Thalia’s voice is drenched in skepticism when she speaks again, “you met a little girl? Where?”

“At the Valkyries training facilities,” as soon as she says it Paige wishes she’d lied.

“What was a little girl doing at-,” another loud groan echoes through Paige’s phone and she can practically picture her agent fighting back the urge to facepalm, “please tell me you’re not talking about Azzi Fudd’s daughter.”

“I can’t tell you that,” Paige says, trying to keep her voice light.

“Jesus fucking christ Paige so you are thinking with your pussy then. You’re telling me you wanna join GSV because your ex-girlfriend’s daughter thinks you should? Do you hear how insane that sounds?”

No, Paige thinks, I want to join because my ex-girlfriend thinks I should. Except she’s pretty sure that wouldn’t go over any better with Talia. She knows it sounds insane, knows it’s a little pathetic the power Azzi still has over her, knows that it should have taken more than just Azzi’s little speech to change her adamant no into a resounding yes. But the truth is that the only good reason she’d even had to not want to go to GSV, was rooted in Azzi and once Azzi had removed that barrier, the decision had never seemed clearer.

“You said it yourself Tals. It’s been years. This isn’t about her and me. It’s about basketball and it’s about winning,” Paige says finally, even if the words don’t sit sound right as they waterfall out of her mouth.

“So this has nothing to do with Azzi Fudd?” Talia inquires.

“Nothing other than the fact that she’s the best shooting guard in the country and together we can be the best backcourt in the WNBA. Azzi Fudd,” it’s the first time Paige has said her name in a long time and it ignites a fire on the tip of her tongue “is my past and she’ll never be anything more than a future teammate, not again. Besides,” Paige’s stomach churns as the next words leave her mouth, “like you said. GSV doesn’t have to be anything more than a temporary pit stop.”

***

Putting away her weights, Azzi uses her forearm to wipe away the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. She hides a smile as her eyes fall on Stephie. A look of pure concentration marks her daughter’s face as she puts her full little body into lifting a set of 2kg weights. It’s become their Sunday routine. Azzi comes to the Valkyrie’s fitness center to train and Stephie follows along, pitter pattering behind Azzi and trying to mimic every exercise her mother attempts.

“Mama,” Stephie gushes as she catches Azzi’s eyes in the mirror, “I did twenty today. I think I can do the 3kg ones next time.”

Azzi laughs, walking over and bending down to give the little girl a high-5, “oh yeah? You think you’re ready to move onto the next level.”

“Yeah I am!” Stephie cheers, trying to flex her biceps, “look how big they’re getting.”

“Oh my god baby they’re almost bigger than mine,” Azzi says dramatically, flexing her own arms right next to Stephie’s.

“Just give me a year,” Stephie promises, giggling as she wraps her arms around her mother’s neck, “I’m gonna be the strongest Fudd.”

Azzi lifts her up with ease, pressing a delicate kiss against her daughter’s hair as the little girl settles into her side, hands immediately playing with the “S” necklace around Azzi’s neck.

“When Miss Buecks joins your team, do you think she can come ex-cise with us too?” Stephie asks shyly and Azzi sighs as she grabs for her gym bag.

She should have expected the question really. In the hours that had passed since Stephie had met Paige, the older woman’s name seemed to have risen to the top of the little girl’s vocabulary. Every little thing they’d done since had been accompanied by the mention of Miss Buecks, either a plea to have Paige join them next time or Stephie gushing about how she just knew Miss Buecks would be good at this too.

“You know kid, I’m beginning to think you might like Miss Buecks more than me,” Azzi teases with a lightheartedness she doesn’t feel. But she won’t let her own discomfort bleed into Stephie’s excitement.

“Don’t be silly Mama,” Stephie pulls at Azzi’s cheeks, “you’ll always be my favoritest.”

Don’t worry Az, you’ll always be my most favorite. It’s Paige's voice that echoes through her mind, casual and carefree and so, so honest. And she needs to stop doing this, needs to stop her brain from tying her present to the threads of her past, needs to stop her heart from letting Stephie and Paige be pieces of the same puzzle. It’s a dangerous wish she’d let bloom in secret for years but not all wishes are meant to come true, some are meant to tragically wilter in the darkness until they turn into a wistful what if.

A shrill “MISS BUECKS,” breaks Azzi out of her thoughts as the child in her arms starts to wriggle out of her grasp the minute they step out of the fitness center. As soon as Stephie manages to get on the ground, she’s running before Azzi can get a word out to stop her. And all Azzi can do is watch as Paige turns around at the call of her name, neutral face breaking into a luminescent smile as she catches sight of Stephie running towards her.

“MISS BUECKS,” Stephie squeals again, tiny hands outstretched as she picks up speed.

“STEPHIE,” Paige matches the excitement in the little girl’s voice, swinging her into her arms and spinning her around before finally holding her firm against her hip.

“I missed you,” Stephie confesses, “did you miss me?”

Paige's eyes soften as she nuzzles Stephies nose, “of course I did.”

Azzi feels paralyzed as she watches the scene unfold in front of her. Stephie excitedly chatters about some random topic and Paige seems mesmerized by the most mundane stories. And Azzi’s not sure if she’s floating or sinking, but she knows if she lets them, the tears begging to be released from her eyes could flood everything around her. Her hands fist of their own accord as she takes a step towards Paige and Stephie and it’s like a nightmare and a daydream all at once.

“Mama look,” Stephie notices her first, “Miss Buecks is here.”

Paige looks over Stephie’s head and as cerulean blue eyes pierce into Azzi’s dark brown ones, she wonders if Paige is thinking of it too, of the future they used to talk about while curled up in one of their UConn dorms as their hands traced forever into each other’s palms.

“I can see that Steph,” she musters up a polite smile, “Hi Paige.”

She gets an equally polite smile back in return, “Hi Azzi.”

Her name sounds different on Paige’s lips and Azzi misses the way Paige’s eyes used to twinkle just saying it, the way her lips would curl around that one word like it carried the meaning of life itself.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie turns Paige’s face away from Azzi, hand resting against her cheek, “did you say yes to joining Mama’s team?”

Paige’s eyes flicker towards Azzi again, before coming back to rest on the hopeful little girl, “I did. I just signed the contract.”

Stephie screams, arms wrapping around Paige’s neck and Azzi expects Paige to at least flinch, but the blonde simply laughs, hugging Azzi’s little girl back with equal fervor.

“I take it you’re happy,” Paige whispers.

“I’m-,” Stephie crawls out from Paige’s neck to look at Azzi, “Mama what’s that big word you use es-est-”

“Ecstatic,” Azzi whispers, trying to pretend that Paige’s announcement hasn’t knocked the wind out of her. Hell has just become official and Azzi had personally invited it.

“I’m es-tatic that you’re joining Mama’s team Miss Buecks. I told Mama that I knew you would. I'm gonna cheer so loud for you,” Stephie says, unaware that her innocent words feel like shards of broken glass piercing at Azzi’s skin.

“That makes me ecstatic Stephie,” Paige says softly but there’s a hint of something else there that Azzi can’t quite place; the realization that she’s no longer as well-versed in the notes of Paige’s voice hits her like a hailstorm.

“Welcome to Golden State,” she manages to stutter out and Paige’s eyes drift to her before warily looking down to her outstretched hands, “I think we’ll make a good team.”

“I’m counting on it,” Paige nods as she reaches out the hand that’s not holding Stephie. And the moment they touch, it’s still electric, like lightning during the first thunderstorm after a drought. They stare at each other and Azzi wonders if Paige is thinking it too, thinking that if only they’d held on like this eight years ago when they should have. Blinking away droplets of what happened to you and me forever, Azzi reluctantly lets go of Paige’s hand, ignoring the way the feeling of it still lingers, like it’s destined to etch itself onto Azzi’s palms.

“Well Stephie bear, I think it’s time for us to go home,” she says slowly.

Stephie crinkles her nose, “we’re not going home Mama. We’re getting ice cream,” she turns to Paige with a serious expression on her face, “we always get ice cream after ex-cise. Mama says it’s good for the soul.”

“She’s right. Ice cream is good for the soul,” Paige smiles, giving Azzi a knowing look.

“OH,” Stephie shrieks, “Miss Buecks you should come with us so we can cel-bate you coming to Mama’s team.”

Azzi’s eyes widen, immediately getting ready to shut that dreadful idea down, “Miss Buecks is busy baby and she probably wants to celebrate with her own family.”

And if the word family makes Paige flinch, Azzi pretends she doesn’t notice.

“You don’t wanna cel-bate with me Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks and Azzi knows that even if Paige had intended to decline Stephie’s offer, once her daughter gives her those big sad eyes, the already people-pleasing blonde won’t say no.

“Nobody else I’d rather celebrate with,” Paige caves and Azzi sighs, switching her bag to her other shoulder. Some things would never change. Some things about Paige, she would always be able to predict.

“Yay,” Stephie cheers, finally slipping down from Paige’s lap, only so she can lace one hand in Paige’s and the other in Azzi’s, “let’s go cel-bate.”

***

It’s the first time they’ve been in a car together in a decade, and still the instinct to reach out and grab Azzi’s hand as she drives, prickles against Paige’s fingertips. She tries to focus on the road ahead, tries to focus on whatever story Stephie is telling from the backseat, tries to focus on anything but the woman in the driver’s seat who used to be her passenger princess.

“You’ve turned into a pretty good driver,” she quips slowly, trying to lighten the tension between them, “I’m only just a little bit scared for my life right now.”

Azzi cracks a small smile, “are you ready to admit I’m a better driver than you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Mama’s the best driver in the world,” Stephie chimes in loyally, “was she a bad driver when she was littler?”

“Younger,” Azzi corrects immediately, “and I was always a good driver, Steph. Don’t listen to Miss Buecks.”

Paige scoffs, “don’t believe her Stephie. She once nearly killed me.”

“I did not. I can’t believe you’re lying to my child.”

“Am I?” Paige cocks her head, “so you didn’t nearly back into me that one time during Christmas?”

“That doesn’t count,” Azzi protests, “I didn’t even know you were coming to surprise me. How was I supposed to know you were going to be right outside the garage door while I was trying to pull out.”

“There are these things on your car called mirrors Azzi, think maybe you should try and use them sometimes.”

“It was dark and I was in a hurry.”

“Where could you possibly have had to go that late on Christmas?”

“I was going to surprise you,” Azzi exclaims, “but you beat me to it so,” her voice fades off as an awkward silence cuts into the easy banter. The memory of that night is clear in Paige’s mind. Christmas 2021 when they’d been teetering on the edge between something and everything. They’d decided they’d meet up the day after Christmas to exchange presents, leaving the day of it just for their families. But the whole day had passed and Paige had been consumed by nothing but missing Azzi. And as soon as night fell, her mind was made up to go see her best friend. She hadn't known just how much Azzi had missed her too. Not until now. It’s funny, Paige thinks, they’d once been the kind of people who didn’t know how to exist when they spent a day apart. Now they were the kind of people who’d fought to spend nearly a decade apart.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie cuts in again, voice inquisitive, and Paige doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of hearing the little girl call for her; it fills her with a warmth she didn’t even know she had the capacity to feel, “Mama said you’ve always been the prettiest, even when you were littler.”

Paige’s eyes dart to Azzi, a smirk playing on her lips as she watches a pink hue spread across the brunette’s cheeks, “she said that?”

Azzi doesn’t say anything, hands tightening on the steering wheel as she finally maneuvers into a parking lot.

“She did,” Stephie confirms, “and she said you were really good at bask-ball and really smart. And then Aunty Leen said something in her ear and Mama got all shy.”

“Right Stephanie. I think that’s enough talk about what Mama said,” Azzi says as she finishes parking and starts to unbuckle her seatbelt, muttering something about inflated egos under her breath.

“Nah Stephie,” Paige grins as gets out of the car, “I like hearing what your Mama said about me.”

It earns her a glare from Azzi and that only makes her smile harder. Paige is no stranger to praise and compliments but it’s always meant just a little more when it came from Azzi. And she’d never admit it to anyone but every time she’d come across a clip of Azzi praising her over the last couple years, she’d let the clip loop for far longer than she should have.

“You know what Bueckers,” Azzi says, “you’re buying our ice cream.”

“That’s not fair Mama,” Stephie chides, “we’re here to cel-bate Miss Buecks. It’s her treat so you have to pay.”

“Yeah Azzi, it’s my treat so you have to pay,” Paige mimics, high-fiving a beaming Stephie.

Azzi looks between the two of them, an offended expression on her face, “my own daughter,” she gasps, “betraying me. I see how it is.”

“You’re the one who says we have to be fair,” Stephie says, nudging her mother slightly so she can clutch her hand and then turns to look up at Paige, “was Mama really pretty when she was littler?”

“Younger” Azzi corrects again, before focusing on Paige, “and you don’t have to answer that. She’s seen photos of me from before.”

“But I wanna know from Miss Buecks,” Stephie whines.

“Stephie,” Azzi warns, an edge to her voice.

“She was the most beautiful girl in the world,” Paige says softly and two sets of dark brown eyes immediately flash up to her. The California sunshine makes Azzi glow but really that’s nothing new; Azzi has always been the brightest star, at least in Paige’s galaxy, and she can’t help but let the next words slip through her lips, “she still is.”

***

Azzi thinks Paige has never really known the impact of her own words. Whether it was the missiles she fired when angry or the shower of flower petals when she was feeling complimentary. And it seems like time has done nothing to change that because Paige continues to walk towards the ice cream parlor with absolutely no recognition of how Azzi’s heart has just burst into flames.

She still is.

It shouldn’t affect her the way it does, shouldn’t elicit any reaction more than just a cocky smirk but instead those three little words seem to imprint themselves on her cochlear, ringing around her like static as she tries to keep a façade of nonchalance.

The ice cream parlor is bursting with people and it doesn’t take long before both Azzi and Paige are being asked for pictures. Protective instinct kicking in, Azzi reaches to grab for Stephie to keep her from getting lost in the crowd, only to find her already securely tucked into Paige’s side. Azzi watches as Paige interacts with the fans -she’s always been a natural at that- and somehow manages to keep Stephie entertained at the same time, conspiratorially whispering things to her in between interactions and making her giggle. It hurts and heals something inside her at the same time. The thing is, since Stephie was born, Azzi has done this whole thing alone and she’s never regretted it, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a part of her that hasn’t always wished for a partner, someone else who would protect her little girl with her. Like Paige is right now. But this is a mirage, a fever dream that isn’t Azzi’s to dream.

So she looks away and hides her tears behind a dazzling smile for a photo with a fan. She’s gotten incredibly good at that.

“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks excitedly when they finally manage to reach the counter.

“Oh um-” Paige scratches at her neck, “I like cookies and cream.”

Azzi guffaws at the lie, “your favorite flavor is cookies and cream?”

“Yes Azzi,” Paige glares, “I love cookies and cream.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow before dropping her voice down to a whisper, “why are you lying?”

Paige sighs, “I don’t want Stephie to think I’m weird.”

“Oh Paige,” Azzi can’t help but smile before turning to Stephie, “Steph what flavor are you getting?”

“Mint chocolate chip,” Stephie says excitedly, eyes fixated on the green ice cream and Paige’s mouth falls open a little bit as Azzi smirks at her.

She turns to the cashier, “we’ll have open mint chocolate chip, one strawberry and one-”

“One more mint chocolate chip please,” Paige cuts in and both Azzi and Stephie look at her.

“I thought you wanted cookies and cream Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks with a confused expression and Azzi barely manages to bite back her laugh.

“I uh-,” Paige begins sheepishly, “I didn’t know they had mint chocolate chip. That’s my most favorite.”

Stephie is contemplatively quiet for a minute before a grin breaks out on her face, “Mama did you know Miss Buecks and I have the same favorite ice-cream flavor?”

“I had absolutely no idea,” Azzi says, winking at Paige as she pays for their ice cream.

They opt to sit outside on one of the picnic benches overlooking the nearby park. Azzi is distinctly aware of how they might look to anyone walking by right now, like a family. Normally, ice cream Sundays are spent with Stephie rambling and Azzi listening but this time Stephie has someone who’s just as much of a chatterbox as she is. Paige hangs on to every word that comes out of the little girl’s mouth, answering questions and giving replies as if this is the most important conversation of her life.

“Mama and I go to Stanford games all the time,” Stephie’s saying as Azzi tries to get out of her own head and zone into the conversation instead, “I’m gonna be a- what’s it called again Mama?”

“A Cardinal,” Azzi supplies helpfully.

“I’m gonna be a Card-nal,” Stephie says and Paige gasps, turning to Azzi.

“Oh my god you’ve raised a traitor,” she moans, shaking her head.

Stephie scrunches her face, looking rather offended by that moniker, “I’m not a tray-tor.”

“Steph sweetheart look at me,” Paige says, her voice the epitome of seriousness as she holds the younger girl by her shoulders, “what are we?”

“Humans?” Stephie asks innocently and Azzi laughs.

“No Stephie we,” Paige uses her finger to point at her and Azzi, “we are Huskies. UConn Huskies. And what do we bleed?”

“Oh I know this one,” Stephie says excitedly, “we bleed blue.”

“So do you wanna be a boring old tree or do you wanna be a big, strong Husky who bleeds blue?”

“I wanna be a Husky,” Stephie cheers and Paige cheers along with her. Azzi rolls her eyes but it doesn't quite match the smile on her face. And then Stephie’s racing off to the swings, leaving Paige and Azzi alone for the first time in a long time.

“Did you just manipulate my child into wanting to go to UConn?” she nudges Paige.

“Of course not. I just made her understand what’s best for her and that’s UConn,” Paige nudges her back, “just like it was for you.”

“Yeah, it was,” Azzi says softly and they both know she means a lot more than just UConn.

“You um- you have a little bit of ice cream,” Paige points nervously to the edge of Azzi’s lip, hands reaching and then hesitating. And Azzi knows that she should at least attempt to wipe it off herself but she stays deathly still as Paige’s thumb finally makes its way to her face. It’s a featherlight touch that the blonde traces across her lips, their eyes transfixed on each other, neither of them breathing. And they’ve had far more intimate moments than this one but something about this, right here, feels apocalyptic.

“I meant what I said before,” Paige whispers, “you’re still the most beautiful girl in the world.”

She gulps before starting to move away and Azzi feels a panic course through her blood as she hurriedly grabs the blonde’s hand. And she’s not supposed to do this; she should tell Paige not to say things like that but instead she’s pulling the blonde closer, hand firmly clasped around her wrist.

“Azzi,” Paige breathes out, like she wants to stop and start something at the same time. They’ve never really known self-control when it comes to each other.

“I meant what I said to Stephie too,” Azzi whispers, “you’ve always been the prettiest.”

***

September 2029

Wings 82 Valkyries 77

Paige almost falls to her knees as the buzzer sounds around the arena. The crowd is on their feet cheering as the Dallas Wings beat the Golden State Valkyries in a hard-fought semi-finals game 5 to advance to the WNBA finals. It takes a brief second and suddenly she has teammates circling all around her as they bask in their well-earned glory.

“One more series to go. Wings in three,” Satou cheers and the whole team echoes after her. They’re not known to be the closest of teams but at this moment, they almost feel like family.

Paige is exhausted as she’s ushered to do a sideline interview and she tries really hard to keep the irritation off her face when she realizes it’s Holly Rowe. The questions are generic and some are downright annoying, but Paige’s media training has always been stellar, and despite the fatigue rolling off her body, her answers are heartfelt and charismatic. The interview can’t be longer than three minutes but it feels like a lifetime before she’s finally walking away. Focused on the ground beneath her and trying not to cave into the exhaustion on her way to the media room, Paige doesn’t notice when she goes barrelling into a firm body.

“Shit I’m so-” the words are stolen from her mouth as Tim Fudd turns around but it’s not him that attracts Paige’s attention. It’s the little girl cradled in his arms, a little girl who looks exactly like the fact that still haunts all of Paige’s memories. Tiny brown eyes stare up at her and Paige is mesmerized by this tiny creature who seems like she could captivate the whole world if she wanted to.

“Congratulations Paige,” Tim says slowly and Paige tears her eyes away from the baby to look at the man who had once been the person who made it a mission to make her laugh whenever she was on the verge of crying, “I’m really proud of you kid.”

Paige’s eyes sting and she doesn’t know if she wants to run away or beg Tim to give her one of his patented bear hugs, “thank you. It really does mean a lot. She-,” her eyes flicker back down to the little tiny bean, “she’s beautiful.”

“Yeah she is,” pride shines in Tim’s voice, “you wanna hold her?”

“Oh no it’s ok-” Paige begins but before she can finish, there’s a baby being placed in her arms and everything around her seems to come to a standstill.

“Her name’s Stephanie,” Tim says softly and Paige laughs because of course, of course Azzi would name her daughter Stephanie.

“Hi Stephanie,” Paige coos, reaching out a finger to tickle the little girl, gasping when Stephanie's small chubby hands grasp it. And then the baby giggles, smiling at Paige as if she’s given her a gift and Paige swears she’s never loved a sound more in her life.

“Can you hold her for a second while I go find Katie?” Tim asks and Paige shakes her head in panic but he’s already off before she can stop him. And then it’s just her and Stephanie, standing outside the media room. There’s people cluttering in and out of the rooms around her, the whole lobby is bustling with sounds but all Paige can focus on is the girl in her arms.

“You’re so cute,” Paige whispers in a baby voice and Stephanie giggles, “yes you are, yes you are. I wanna steal you so bad.”

“I don’t think you can win a WNBA championship from jail,” a familiar voice says from behind her and Paige feels her stomach tying itself in knots as she turns to look at Azzi, “maybe try and kidnap my child after the finals?”

There’s a smile playing on Azzi’s lips but a storm brewing in her eyes and Paige knows that if she rests a heart against the darker-skinned girl, she’ll find it beating to the same hyper rhythm as Paige’s.

“Congratulations Paige,” Azzi says softly as she takes another step towards her, “you guys deserved it.”

“Y’all made it hard as hell-I mean shit-no fuck,” Paige swears and the child in her arms giggles as a litany of curses fall from her mouth.

Azzi bites her lip, raising her eyebrows in mock exasperation, “in front of my kid? Seriously Bueckers?”

Paige winces, ready to apologize until Stephanie begins to babble “B-buecks,” she giggles, clapping her hands, unaware of how the two adults in her vicinity both freeze, “Buecks. Buecks. Buecks.”

“Yeah sweetheart,” tears prickle against Paige’s waterline, “that’s me,” she looks up at Azzi whose own eyes are watery, “she said my name.”

“Yeah,” Azzi’s voice wobbles, “yeah she did. She’s- she’s a quick learner.”

“Just like her Mama,” Paige whispers, staring at Azzi and she wants to freeze them in this moment, like a still-motion picture she can hang up on her walls and keep with her forever.

“Mama,” Stephanie burbles, eyes darting between the two women, “Mama. Buecks. Buecks. Mama.”

“You’re so smart Stephanie,” Paige whispers to the little girl, tickling her stomach. She looks up at Azzi with a smile only to find the brunette frowning at Paige’s hand. Confused Paige follows the line of sight until her own eyes catch onto the diamond that’s shining on her ring finger and she can feel her heart drop, “Az-”

“The media’s waiting for you Paige,” Azzi says, the lightness of a few seconds ago replaced with a hard edge.

“Azzi,” Paige whispers again and she doesn’t know why her tone sounds pleading, doesn’t even know what she’d pleading for but she can feel something slip away from her again.

“You probably want to go celebrate with your wife,” Azzi spits out the last word like it tastes bitter and sour at the same time, and it lands somewhere in between them, creating a wall that puts them on different sides. And Paige should let it go; she should pretend it’s just a normal sentence uttered without any malice, should pretend that she can no longer read the cadences of Azzi’s voice but instead of putting up a shield, she shoots an arrow.

“You don’t get to say it like that,” Paige hisses.

“I didn’t say it like any-”

“Yes you did and you don’t get to do that,” Paige presses, “not when you didn’t want to marry me.”

Azzi flinches. The words, soaked in mistakes of the past, hang like a dagger in between them, ready to sever the thin thread of cordiality that they have tried desperately to maintain.

“You’re right,” Azzi says finally, her voice ice cold as she reaches for Stephanie, “I didn’t want to marry you,” the dagger twists, “so how about you give me my child back and go find the woman who did.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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missmarveledsblog · 6 days

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It's fate ( Bradley bradshaw x reader) part three

summary : The moment that bradley is waiting for as he take the girl he is convinced(knows) is his future wife on that first day and pulling out all the stops so that there will be more

warning : its tooth rooting fluffy fluff stuff

previous part

He was nervous , he was excited and he was totally and utterly completely caught in the spell . His mom was right all those years he thought the woman lost the plot he wish she could of told her she was right . Maybe he was jumping the gun but then again the woman he was currently going on a first date with could ask him to jump and he would ask how high .

“ you’ll know , when you meet them you’ll know” those words his mother trying to teach him growing up suddenly crystal clear.

“ so where ya taking me bradley brooster radley” god even her voice was perfect he could stay mute rest of his life and listen to that voice .

“Well i made reservations at this new fusion fever place it does a little everything so well i wouldn’t get the food wrong , then i have a little surprise after on the beach”.

“ you aint planning on killing me right?” she teased .

“ you never … your brother occasionally have thought about it” he chuckled .

“ he’s a softy really he gives you problems just tell him marley and me , that man got in such a fit of despair my mama almost few to san diego til we let him talk to our dog back home “ she giggled .

“ damn that’s kinda cute and makes him human plus i may of cried with him and went to dog shelter “ he laughed awkwardly.

“ did you get dog … oh can i meet him “ she almost jumped up excited.

“ i can so get one no i will get one and you can meet it “ he smiled noting to himself to go back to that shelter wondering if their was a 24 hour one that was a thing right ? .

“ slow your roll brooster lets eat first before your committing here , i could eat like a slob “ she pointed out .

“ and i’ll eat like a pig “ he shot back .

“ you are adorable” she giggled that was definitely his favorite sound he was wondering what other sounds he would like from her .

“ calm down brooster jesus ” he thought scolding himself .

The moment the pulled up he was on his best game jumping out of the car so fast he stumble , slightly praying it was dark enough she didn’t notice as he went to the other side opening the door holding his hand out and escort her like the queen she was to the door . even pulling her chair out once they were shown to the table he may of nearly pushed the matradee out of the way to do so but he’d tip the man on way out or not .. maybe . She had head turning moment she walked in and honestly as much as he hated it he didn’t blame them she was stunningly beautiful from the casual sweaters and jean shorts he’d seen her or the other outfits he’d seen her back when they were strangers but now the white sundress had every part loving it . her bright eyes and smile he could see as his personal beacon calling him home every night , or that voice of hers leading him like a siren at sea . he listened intently cementing everything she told him about herself in turn sharing things about himself from his favorite color to his parents which was never something he shared on a first day but yet he told her stories of his mom and ones he could remember of his dad . she told him stories of what it was like having jake as a big brother and one thing he could never argue with was that hangman did love his family . she was the youngest of the five sisters and well seven kids in total which in turn he joke if her parents needed a tv but honestly if she wanted twenty kids he would give them to her.

“ hey they kept going til they got perfection” she smirked that sarcastic side he could only imagine how much it irritated jake giving he was the same.

“ i don’t doubt that at all “ he winked .

“ honestly i’m surprised there isn’t little seresin out there with that hound dog i call a brother” she snorted . “ sure they’re are in texas but none are jakes “ she smiled .

“ do you miss it , texas “ he asked .

“ sometimes but i like it here , plus it not too far away i mean a day or less car trip if i’m really feeling homesick plus jakes here so it makes it less lonely and makes my mama sleep better and my papa not driving up check on me all time “ .

“ well you have me here too i mean you know what i mean “ he blushed .

“ good to know i’ll keep it on mind that bradley brooster radley is there to kept little ole me less lonely” she winked.

“ what made you become a kindergarten teacher ?”

“ wow you really do wanna know it all huh? Well i love kids i always did even growing up i was always the one to well cause the trouble and wild child but even then i wanted to be teacher and well having all those nieces and nephews i was always good with the younger years mama said i had the touch and my sister emily well she said i’d make a good kindergarten teacher “ .

“ well from the way you talk about your kids , your class honestly is already telling that your a great teacher definitely one that going to make impact “ he gushed .

“ well thank you , i hope so” she smiled shyly . “ it’s not as exciting as what you do though hell i’d be scared shitless getting in one of those hornets y’all flyboys got balls ” .

“ hey don’t knock it til you try it , maybe you just need the right flyboy sweetheart” he winked.

“ is that so?”.

“ oh baby you’ll love it in mine … my jet i mean “ he gulped.

“ guess we’ll add it to future dates if this one stays as great as it is so far” she patted his cheek as she stood . “ i need to use the little girls room i’ll be back “ and honestly he tried really but he almost fell out of the chair when he look watching how her hips swayed as she walk . “ shit behave” he scolded himself.

Once desert was finish and he left a big tip and paying before she could even see the bill hit the table he once again escorted her to the bronco opening the door and even putting the belt on for her jesus even the sent of her perfume had him so intoxicated in her . with check that the beach plan was a go before he got in the driver side . what he didn’t expect was the moment he sat down ready to turn was her lips to peck his cheek. One simple action and he was short circuiting needed a moment before he even started the car. The whole car ride they talked more possibly more than she ever did on a first day . bradley brooster radley had her talking of anything and everything and he was actually listening . the whole time he was a perfect gentlemen she almost thought she was dreaming . never had she ever been treated in such a way. She had hard time not swooning and keeping her cool most of the time . he was nothing she ever met before . honestly she noticed him back everytime she would pass him it was likes something out of a movie and many time she was thinking of saying something but he was gone by time she could and honestly night she tired in the hard deck but jake pushed her out the door before she could get more out of her mouth and then her chance she took it that first time in the cafe honestly she was bucket of nerves and then well now here she was having the best date of her life and hope there would be more .

Pulling to the hard deck her head tilted in confusion she could of sworn he said the beach as he got out opening her door and unbuckling her belt . this time when he took her hand she intertwined their fingers it was cute even in the night she could see the red on his cheeks or how wide his smile was . they walked near the entrance of the hard deck only to turn as then she seen it just at the back and indeed on the beach the light that led them down to were a blanket sat on the sand along with a basket and what looked like a speaker sat waiting and flowers more specifically her favorite .

“ your brother may have help but didn’t think i’d have a first date and not get the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen flowers “ he smile picking them up and handing them to her .

“ shit are you even real “ she gasped still in awe taking it all in .

“Well i remember you told me your favorite thing was to watch the stars so what’s better then watching them on a beach with the sounds of the waves but i was hoping you would dance with me first he tapped his phone as her mouth fell open . “ ok jake might of helped with that too “ he smiled shyly as sound of la vie an rose played . “ so would you care to dance” he held his hand out .

“ how could i say no this is wow” she was lost for words in the best way possible as she took his hands putting them on her waste as she wrapped her arm around his neck as the two swayed around eyes locked both slowly closer til there forehead where touching .

“ yup this was definitely fate” he finally said.

“ bradley radley brooster shut up and kiss me” she smiled.

“ yes ma’am “ he leaned down his lips touch her and if he wasn’t a goner before (which he was ) , he was definitely a goner now for the future mrs bradshaw .

@bets-bookshelf hope you enjoy 💙❤️💙❤️

A/n : if anyone wants more from these two just ask and will deliver oneshots <3

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morganxwritess · 3 months

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‧₊˚❀༉‧ 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟.

benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: your father has promised you to a much older man, but benedict refuses to let you go without a fight. He is determined to win your heart, even if it means making a fool of himself by boldly throwing rocks at your window warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, slight degradation (like barely any it could be so much worse), praise, dirty talk, fingering, p in v sex, fluffy smut note: this is my first post!!! i’m so very excited to share this with all of you. season 3 benedict had me weak in the knees, and when this idea came to me after he told john to go throw rocks at francesca's window, I knew I had to write it. lots of love!! let me know what you think!!! word count: 7.4k (not sure how that happened lmao)

As the second eldest Bridgerton child and next in line for the title of Viscount, any eligible woman with intelligence sought to secure Benedict Bridgerton as their match. Unfortunately for them, Mr. Bridgerton was not looking for a wife this season, nor the last, nor any season before that. It appeared that Benedict had no desire to marry, and it was doubtful that would ever change.

Yet, that did not stop the mamas of the ton from setting their daughters upon him as if they were nothing more than dogs and he was their meal. The thought was unsettling, making you nauseous, but you tried to ignore their classless attempts to negotiate a marriage with the Bridgerton boy. At this point, however, what the fathers were offering Benedict to take their daughters' hands in marriage was no longer negotiation. It was simply bribery. Lord Ellington had offered Benedict land in the country. Lord Wentworth did the same, but he included the staff to his land as if they were slaves he could barter and sell. Lord Haverford extended a tempting proposal that Benedict almost entertained, offering a one-of-a-kind masterpiece painted by Thomas Gainsborough. While Benedict considered it for a mere moment, he ultimately declined, asserting that no work of art, however exquisite, is worth the cost of compromising one's spirit for a union with which one cannot bear.

Everyone desired to be Benedict Bridgerton’s wife. Everyone thought they knew him and could force their way into his heart and capture his attention. But you knew him intimately, which is how you knew this would never occur. You knew precisely how he took his tea. You knew his favorite artist, and while he admired Thomas Gainsborough’s work, it was not he who held the place of honor. You knew his favorite sibling, even when he insisted he had none. You knew what ignited his passions and recognized the look on his face when he felt his creativity had been compromised. You knew everything about Benedict Bridgerton, which is why you knew he would never marry without love. And Benedict has never been one to fall in love with anything other than art.

While you admired the determination and resilience of the young debutantes vying for his attention, you also resented it, for their pursuit often kept him occupied during balls, leaving you at the mercy of your mother's desire to showcase you to any willing suitor. The social scene was unbearable to you. Men gawked and whispered about young women as though they were mere commodities. It was infuriating, but thankfully, you found solace in knowing you were not alone in this sentiment. Your closest friend Eloise shared and understood your frustrations more deeply than anyone else, and when Benedict was occupied, she did a decent enough job of sheltering you from your mama.

“Has your mother lost her head?” Eloise nearly shouted, earning glares from nearby onlookers as you stared at the floor, trying to keep the blush creeping up your cheeks at bay.

“I suppose it’s not too bad,” you mumbled, not believing your statement whatsoever.

“Not too bad?” Eloise asked as if speaking to a stranger and not you, her best friend whom she’d known since childhood. “You cannot marry him.”

“He hasn’t proposed yet. I believe it is just an option.”

“An option you're entertaining, tell me not.”

“Lord Kensington is not a cruel man, Eloise. He is very wealthy and will allow me to spend my days reading alone while he tends to his business. It seems like an appropriate match.”

Eloise scoffed and crossed her gloved hands over her chest. “Lord Kensington is nearly three and seventy. You are a child in comparison. This is the furthest thing from an appropriate match.”

“This is my third year on the marriage-mart. I’d rather be a widow than a spinster who’s a burden to her family.”

“Is that what you think of me? A burden?”

Your eyes widened. “Eloise, no I—”

“I’m going to seek some refreshments. Perhaps when I return you’ll no longer be behaving in such an unbearable manner.”

With that, Eloise stormed away, her dress flashing through the crowd like a river of blue. You took a deep breath, attempting to ground yourself and regain composure. It was not as if you were excited to potentially marry Lord Kensington. He was simply an option. One that disgusted you and made your skin crawl, but an option nonetheless. You were only confiding in a friend, but leave it to Eloise to blow things out of proportion and not give you the opportunity to explain.

“Is that a frown I see?” The blue-eyed devil whose company you were praying for teased as he stood to your right.

“Eloise is upset with me.”

Benedict smirked as if what you said was an insufficient reason to be emotional. “Eloise will be Eloise. What have you done that has destroyed her life, ruined her future, and perhaps changed the course of history itself?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your throat. “Your sister is not that dramatic.”

“We are speaking of the same sister, correct?”

You rolled your eyes, and he moved to stand in front of you, capturing your complete attention. He looked exceptionally handsome tonight, his deep navy tailcoat contrasting elegantly with the crisp white linen shirt beneath. The maroon cravat, tied with exquisite precision, drew the gaze of any unfortunate soul who dared to look his way. His hair, styled almost artistically, gave him the appearance of a portrait subject moments before the painter's brush touched the canvas.

Other than the mass of invalids gathered at these balls, what you despised most was how impossibly handsome the man standing before you appeared when you finally got the chance to speak with him. He was, of course, handsome every day, but there was something incomparable about his appearance when meticulously dressed for the social event of the season.

“You truly are upset,” Benedict stated as he stared into your eyes, realizing the extent of your worry. “Tell me, what is it that you and my sister were arguing about?”

“I am to be engaged.”

Benedict’s eyes widened, and his large, goofy smile was replaced by a stern, thin-lined frown. You paused, staring at his hardening features. Why was he upset? He had not even heard the worst part yet.

Clearing his throat, Benedict tried to force a smile. “Congratulations. Who is the lucky husband-to-be?”

“Lord Kensington.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You must be mistaken. Are you speaking of Lord Kilmartin? I believe he fancies my sister Francesca, but I could be mistaken.”

You shook your head. “No, I am not mistaken. I am to be engaged to Lord Kensington. He and my father are speaking tonight, but he has already declared his intentions.”

Benedict's face contorted with many emotions, but only one seemed clear to you as you studied his burning blue eyes. Anger. Was he angry with you for finding a husband? While yes, Lord Kensington was many years older than you, this sort of thing happened all the time. Just last week, Miss Radcliffe, who is your age, married Lord Pennington, who is nearly eight and sixty.

"Lord Kensington is older than the combined ages of your parents," he argued. "By the time you marry him and bear him an heir, he will likely be dead. In fact, he may not even live to see the child born."

“Benedict—”

“This is unacceptable,” he exclaimed, looking around the room like a madman. “Where is your father? I will speak with him.”

“And do what, Benedict? This is my third year on the marriage-mart. The longer I wait to marry, the more undesirable I become.”

“You can wait one more season. There must be someone else—”

"There is no one else, Benedict!" you exclaimed, your voice echoing through the room and drawing the attention of onlookers. In this moment, it felt as though you were the only souls in existence. Nothing else mattered—not the curious gazes nor the threat to your reputation. With unwavering resolve, you met his gaze, channeling every ounce of strength within you. “And frankly, I am tired of waiting. This is a suitable match, and the union will be short enough.”

“I will find you someone else to marry,” he whispered under his breath to avoid the attention of the rest of the ton.

Firmly, you shook your head, not wanting to argue with him. “Mr. Bridgerton, I apologize for my outburst. I must be feeling unwell. I believe I will turn in early.”

You began to walk away to find your mother and father and convince them to take you home when he grabbed your gloved arm, forcing you to face him once more.

“Y/N, please—”

“There is nothing left to be done, Mr. Bridgerton. Now please remove your hands from me.”

Reluctantly, Benedict released you. “Then I suppose the next time I see you will be at your engagement celebration.”

Holding back tears, you nodded. “As always, I’m looking forward to it, Mr. Bridgerton.”

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That evening, upon returning to your residence in Mayfair, your lady's maid assisted you in preparing for bed before retiring for the night herself. Your father was absent, likely in discussion with Lord Kensington, finalizing the arrangements for your impending engagement, while your mother, deep in slumber, dreamt of the wedding preparations ahead. Meanwhile, you lay wide awake beneath the canopy of your chamber, clad in your nightgown, yearning to be anyone but yourself.

In that moment, the faintest tap at your window caught your attention. Initially, you dismissed it as a figment of your imagination—surely, no one would seek to contact you at such a late hour, especially considering your residence on the second floor. Yet, the sound persisted, growing more insistent with each repetition.

With cautious steps, you rose and approached the window, uncertainty weighing heavily upon you. Slowly, you drew aside the voluminous pink curtains that had obscured both moonlight and the view of the street below. There, you observed a small pebble making contact with the glass, producing a gentle, persistent knocking sound.

Who on earth was throwing rocks at your window? Especially at this hour?

Delicately, you released the latch securing the window and eased it open, peering down to the street below to discern the identity of the visitor. From your vantage point, you observed a figure below, stooping to retrieve more stones, his movements deliberate yet furtive. As he straightened, your gaze locked onto his face, and in that instant, you recognized the familiar features of the culprit.

“Benedict?” you whispered down at the man.

Upon hearing your voice, Benedict dropped the rocks in his hand, and a relieved sigh escaped him.

“Y/N, I must speak with you. I attempted to enter the house, but the door is locked.”

“Because it is exceptionally late. Benedict, you cannot be here. This is rather improper.”

“I will not leave until I get a word with you, and I will only get louder as you make me wait.”

You could not let him in. You were dressed in your nightgown. Your hair was not done nor your makeup. Not to mention, if anyone were to see him come inside, your family would be cast out of society. While you all were wealthy, respected, and had titles, you were no Bridgerton. You could not get away with such a feat.

“Why are you here, Ben?” you asked, your voice full of defeat.

You observed a softening of his features from hearing the nickname you had given him all those years ago. Despite wearing the same attire from the ball, his hair was now disheveled, evidence of repeated runs of his hand through it—a nervous habit of his. He gestured with open arms, as if inviting you to leap into them—an implausible notion, surely.

“I am here to be bold and declare myself,” he declared, ever so confidently.

“You are not being bold,” you whispered, looking up and down the street for any passersby. “You are making a fool out of yourself and my family.”

“I am calling upon you—” he began to shout before you quickly shushed him and caved to his demands.

“Fine! Fine! I will be down in a moment,” you hissed, shutting the window in your wake.

You hastily raked your fingers through your tousled hair, attempting in vain to tame the unruly strands that betrayed a night of restless tossing and turning in bed. Eventually conceding defeat, you reached for your baby blue robe hanging on the door and descended the stairs with purposeful strides. Benedict Bridgerton's unexpected appearance bewildered you—had he lost his senses? His unannounced visit threatened to disrupt everything.

You grasped the gilded handle of your front door, turning it with utmost care to avoid arousing anyone's attention to Benedict's presence. The door swung open slowly, revealing Benedict poised outside, patiently awaiting your invitation inside that would not be coming.

“What are you doing here, Benedict? If anyone were to see you—”

“I have found you another option,” he stated breathlessly.

You frowned, confused by his words. “What are you talking about?”

“You said you must marry Lord Kensington because there is no other option. I have found you another one.”

You could not help but roll your eyes at his audacious statement. “And who might that be? My father has looked for other men for me to marry, and his search has been fruitless. I doubt yours would be much different.”

“You will marry me.”

A ringing sensation echoed in your ears, accompanied by a wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm you. Surely, he could not mean what he was saying. Perhaps confusion had clouded his judgment. As you gathered your thoughts, uncertainty gripped you tightly.

“Are you drunk?” you asked hoarsely. Your eyes widened momentarily, realizing the potential rudeness of your question. “I apologize. I meant—No, I meant what I said. Are you drunk?”

The same goofy smile you had come to love appeared on Benedict’s face. “Believe it or not, I have never been more sober.”

You shook your head, alarmed by this whole situation. “Well then, are you mad? That’s the only excuse for you to come here at this hour asking for my hand in marriage.”

“You are one of my dearest friends. I will not let you marry a man on his deathbed,” he stated firmly, reaching for your hands and holding them in his.

Still unconvinced, you scoffed, “What about Eloise? Surely your sister would not be fond of you marrying one of her closest friends.”

“It was actually her idea,” he stated, creating only more confusion for you. “We were on the swings discussing how unfond we were of your fiancé when she said that she wished I were marrying you instead.”

Realizing the gravity of this conversation, you ripped your hands from his. “You do not even wish to be married, and I will not let you marry me out of pity.”

As you reached for the door to slam it in his face, he asserted himself, pushing it open and pressing you gently until your back met the doorframe. Your chest rose and fell with heightened emotion as you gazed up at him, but before you could react, he captured your lips with his own. A rush of warmth enveloped your entire being, causing you to pause, unsure of your next move. The sensation was entirely new to you; while you had read about such moments in the pages of Jane Austen’s novels, experiencing them firsthand was another matter altogether. Benedict's kiss felt unlike anything you had ever known—a gesture filled with a fervor that seemed to imply he needed your very breath to survive.

As you drew back from him, a swell of emotion threatened to bring tears to your eyes. Leaving his embrace was painful; you longed to linger, yet the reality of the situation weighed heavily upon you. With the door ajar, vulnerable to prying eyes, the impropriety of the moment loomed large in your mind. It felt unjust and heart-wrenching—to share such a tender kiss with the man you loved, only to face an impending marriage to another that you could not stand.

“This is cruel, Benedict,” you whispered, your voice trembling and your lips quivering. “I did not take you to be a cruel man.”

“I am not marrying you out of pity,” he declared firmly, his gaze intense as he wiped away the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Or obligation,” he added, his touch gentle yet resolute. “Or convenience.”

“Then why would you do this?” you asked, fighting to maintain composure before him. “Why come here, demanding to marry me when you know I have loved you for years?”

He hesitated briefly, taken aback by your words, before gently cupping your cheeks with both hands. “Because I will not let the woman I love marry a man who is not me.”

You gasped involuntarily as his words replayed in your mind. Benedict's face broke into a triumphant smile, akin to winning a hard-fought duel. The revelation felt almost surreal. Benedict Bridgerton loves you? It seemed impossible to comprehend. You'd known him since childhood, and despite the few years' difference in age, you would have expected him to declare his feelings long before the eve of your arranged engagement.

“Do not lie to me, Benedict, or so help me God—”

“I have never lied to you, my love,” he interjected, pressing a tender kiss to your right temple as he continued to cradle your face. “And I never will.”

Overwhelmed by your emotions, you pulled away, your voice rising in frustration. “Why did you not say something sooner?” you demanded, no longer caring about your mother asleep upstairs or the servants resting elsewhere in the house. “Why tell me now?”

“Because, I—” he began, his frustration evident as he ran a hand through his hair. “I thought I had more time. I convinced myself that if you chose to marry another man, someone of substance, I would step aside. But this…I cannot let you marry Lord Kensington. It would be a fate worse than I could endure.”

“You wanted more time?” you asked, exasperated. “More time for what? To visit brothels? To sleep with whores? To continue being a rake? You wanted more time to be selfish before you had to force yourself to settle down?”

He scoffed. “Do you even know the meaning of the words you say? Or are they just judgmental statements you’ve heard your father make about me to your mother?”

“I love you, Benedict. I always have, but I will not be second to the life you want for yourself. I will not become a regret of yours when you are my entire world. It would break me, so I would rather become the wife of a man who disgusts me than marry you and have you disdain me.”

Forcefully, he seized your bicep, pulling you close until your chest pressed firmly against his with every breath. Benedict had always been so kind, so gentle, so transparent, but as you gazed into his eyes now, you saw a different man entirely—a beast poised to devour its prey.

“Do not presume to know my desires or what I will regret,” he declared, his voice a low growl as he towered over you. “You may love me, but you do not know me better than I know myself. What I know is that I want you, in every sense of the word. I want you to be my wife, my partner, the woman with whom I share my life. I want to wake up each morning with you in my arms. I want to possess you, and I want the world to know that you belong to me.”

Your eyes blinked heavily as you stared up at him, tears beginning to fill them. "I want nothing more, Benedict, but my father has most certainly already promised me to Lord Kensington. You’re too late."

Benedict shook his head, refusing to accept your words. "You will come with me now to Bridgerton House—"

"I cannot leave the house at this hour in this attire with you!" you gasped, horrified by the idea. "I’ll become the biggest scandal in Lady Whistledown’s next issue."

"You will not interrupt me," he stated firmly. "Do you not trust me?"

You sighed, "I trust you. I’m just questioning your judgment. Have you truly thought this through?"

"Listen to me, Y/N. You are coming with me to Bridgerton House now. We will not keep this quiet. The more people who see us, the better. Tomorrow morning, I will go to your father and declare my intent to marry you. Perhaps we may even obtain a special license to wed quickly, avoiding further scrutiny."

"That will not change the fact that my father has promised me to Lord Kensington."

"What changes is that if Lord Kensington discovers you stayed the night unchaperoned with me, he will not want to marry you."

Pausing, you realized the sense in his logic, though you were still confused. "But why not?"

“Because he will think I have bedded you, and he will not marry a woman whose purity he believes is not intact,” Benedict explained.

“Oh... So, you’re not planning to bed me? We're tricking him?” you asked, sounding more disappointed than you intended.

A broad smile spread across Benedict's face, lighting up the foyer where you stood. “Do you want me to bed you, my love?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you tried to look down, but he gently lifted your chin, compelling you to meet his gaze.

“I just assumed that you would eventually. It is my marital duty, after all,” you mumbled.

Benedict shook his head. “In our marriage, the only duty will be to love each other with every ounce of our being until our dying breath. I will not make love to you unless you ask me to.”

“But when my mother explained the marital duty, she said—”

“Your mother is wrong,” he interrupted firmly, his grip on your chin steady. “You will be my wife, and as your husband, I promise that I will never force you into intimacy. You will come to me willingly, as I will to you, or not at all. I will not coerce you.”

With a gentle embrace, you wrapped your arms around his neck and rose onto your tiptoes to meet his gaze. “I’m not wearing shoes, my handsome fiancé. How will you manage to get me to your bed?”

He tapped his chin playfully, a mischievous smile lighting up his face. “I’ve got it!” he exclaimed teasingly, eliciting a laugh from you. Without warning, he swept you into his arms bridal-style, prompting a squeal of delight as he started towards his home.

“Benedict, we must close the door,” you laughed.

He shrugged nonchalantly, his stride toward his house unwavering. “Your father can handle it when he returns from his meeting with your now ex-fiancé.”

“He was never my fiancé. He was almost my fiancé.”

“And who do we have to thank for that?”

“How would you like me to thank you, Ben?”

"I have many ideas in mind, my love, but I'm curious to see what you're thinking," he smirked devilishly.

Now it was your turn to foolishly tap your finger against your chin as he had done before. "I've got it!" you exclaimed, teasing him, which prompted him to tickle your underarm with the hand that rested on your back. Your laughter filled the air, and Benedict couldn't help but note that he had never heard a more liberating sound.

"You're not getting your reward anymore!" You gasped, squirming playfully in his arms.

“Oh no!” He pouted, placing his head in the crook of your neck, and you couldn’t help but feel the movement of his soft smirking lips, “How may I get it back? Tell me, my love. I promise to be on my best behavior.”

“I believe I rather prefer you on your worst behavior, Mr. Bridgerton.” You teased.

Benedict’s head snapped up to meet your gaze, his pupils dilated with lust and desire, “Is that so?”

“You are ever so enticing when you wear that dopey mischievous smirk that you are sporting this instant.”

“And you are ever so desirable when you look at me like you wish for me to fuck you, my dear.”

A surprised gasp escaped you, but before you could finish it, Benedict captured your mouth in another kiss. The kiss started out soft and lazy as his steps began to falter, it is then when he maneuvered you so your front is facing him and he is carrying you by your thighs. Unintentionally, you began to grind your body against his length with each step he took as you sat beautifully atop of his clothed member. His grip tightened over your nightgown, and your hands pulled at his hair as he continued to devour you.

“Ben.” You moaned, pulling him closer if there were even such a possibility.

“What is it, beautiful?”

“I need more. I need you.”

Benedict smirked, his lips never leaving your neck, “I see. I never dreamed of you being this desperate for me especially in such a public place. If I were not as desperate as you, I would see it as pathetic.”

“Be nice.” You pouted, throwing your head back as he ravished you.

“Of course, my dearest. I know you want nothing more than to behave as an absolute angel, and I must act in a manner that is befitting to accompany you. God forbid, I scare my good girl off before I have the opportunity to ruin her.”

“Yes!” You moaned, almost bouncing in his arms having no earthly idea why the feeling of him against you was as ethereal as it is. “Ruin me, Ben. I’m all yours.”

If it were up to Benedict, he’d lie you against the dirty ground beneath him and fuck you until you were both unmoving and drenched in sweat. And while he supposed he could make that decision for the two of you and lie you down right now, he did not want your first time to be where anyone could see. When he took you intimately for the first time, he wanted to cherish you, and he wanted to be the only one who knew the look that appeared on your face when you discovered just how beautiful making love could be. When you realized that the action should never be a duty, but a gift.

“My love, if you do not behave, I will not be able to compose myself.” He stated, as he grinded his teeth together, attempting to hide just how far gone he was.

Before you even had the opportunity to whine or protest, Benedict threw you over his shoulder like a rag doll. You were instantly met with disappointment at the loss of contact, and you were about to argue with him when his hand playfully smacked your bottom.

“Benedict!” You shouted as his walking began to speed up, and you could sense from your surroundings that you were almost to Bridgerton House.

“I apologize, dearest, but I cannot wait a second longer to claim you, and this is the fastest way to get us to our destination.”

“By treating me as a child?” You argued. He slapped your bottom again, and once again, you shouted after him, “Benedict Bridgerton.”

“If you are going to behave like an ill-disciplined child, I will treat you as such. Now, keep your voice down. This isn’t a secret, but we do not need the entire ton to know I have stolen you away.”

Your ribs bounced against his shoulder as he took you up the steps into Bridgerton House, and you couldn’t help but smirk as you whispered, “You only want me to be quiet, so I do not wake your mother. You could not care less about the rest of the ton.”

Not answering you like the stubborn mule he was, he slapped your ass once more, and not willing to admit that you enjoyed the sting of his affection, you slapped his back in return.

You felt his stifled laugh before you heard it as he swiftly maneuvered you into one of the few rooms of Bridgerton House that you have never seen: his bedroom. You weren’t given the chance to look at your surroundings and see the room where the man you would be marrying laid his head each night. As soon as you saw the door swing closed behind him, your vision shifted to his ceiling. With a swift motion, he threw you onto his mattress, your back bouncing against the soft surface.

Before you could tease him for his impatience, he was already on top of you, his lips on your neck with a hunger akin to Dracula's. How had you resisted his charms for so long? Why had you denied yourself the fulfillment of tasting his lips? What had you done to deserve the intense pleasure he now bestowed upon you? Amidst all these unanswered questions, one thing became clear: there was no going back to a life where Benedict didn't kiss you so sweetly and speak to you with such desire.

He nibbled at the smallest bit of skin below your ear, eliciting a moan from you that he now has deemed the sound of the Lord calling him home. Surely, there was nothing more heavenly than the sound your body made when it called for him.

“Ben, please—” You begged.

He moved from your neck to your swollen lips, pecking them ever so gently, “You are alright, my love.” He said in between kisses, “Do you wish for me to continue?”

Nodding your head rapidly, Benedict couldn’t help but smile down at the sight, “Are you certain, dearest? There will be no turning back.”

You placed one hand on his shoulder and the other behind his head as you pulled him down to meet you, “Don’t ever stop.”

With your consent, Benedict removed your baby blue robe and began to bring the bottom of the skirt of your simple white nightgown up to rest at your hips, leaving your bottom half exposed. You moved to close your legs, feeling slightly insecure from the display, but Benedict stopped you placing his hands on your thighs.

“Do not hide from me, my love.” He stated, tenderly as he gently squeezed your thigh.

Your eyes widened and with them your legs, accepting his strong manly presence.

“Have you touched yourself here?” He asked, ghosting his hand between your legs, almost making contact, but immediately pulling back before you could feel him.

You shook your head no, “Why would I?”

Mumbling against your hip bone, he replied,“Because it brings you pleasure.”

“Just as you are doing now?” You gasped as his fingers finally made contact.

He chuckled almost sinisterly as he planted delicate kisses across your hips and lower stomach while rocking his fingers back and forth across the button between your legs, “Exactly as I’m doing now.” He murmured, “In fact, when you try it, I want you to think of this moment. Do you understand?”

You nodded your head desperately, and he lowered himself further into the valley that was your thighs, “Are you certain you understand?” He asked, dastardly kissing your cunt for the first time while his fingers continued their calculated movements.

Throwing your head back in desperation, you shouted, “Yes! Yes! I will think of you Benedict!”

“And only me?” He asked with the fakest pout, jutting his lip out like a fool. You were too busy enjoying his fingers and tongue to entertain his teasing.

“Of course you! Only you! God, Benedict. Do not stop!”

“Does it feel good, my darling?” He asked rhetorically, inserting one finger, to carefully begin stretching you out for his cock

A peculiar warmth enveloped your abdomen, radiating to that intimate place between your legs. This sensation first stirred upon seeing him for the first time tonight and has only grown the longer you lie here in his bed. Your thighs felt sticky and moist, your breasts tingled and rose with each heavy breath, and your mind became blissfully empty. It was an unusual feeling, yet undeniably welcome.

The stretch of the single digit inside you stung at first, but that pain quickly morphed into pleasure as he moved it in and out, sliding it against your walls, eliciting a feeling you had never felt before.

Benedict groaned merely at the sight of you beginning to come undone around his finger. He inserted a second and you reached for his hand, gasping, not necessarily in protest just in desperate need for a pause.

With one hand still inside you, he planted the other beside your head and slowly climbed up your body, kissing every inch until he reached your jaw. He gently sucked on the edge of your neck while you reached for his hair, causing him to smile against your skin. A slight tug unintentionally escaped you from the overwhelming sensation of him between your legs, eliciting a growl from him into your throat, pushing you further over the edge.

He suddenly pulled away from you and tugged at the cravat around his neck, tossing it to the floor. You moaned at the loss of his fingers, but it was then when you realized he was still fully clothed and you were almost completely naked. He continued pulling at his clothing, throwing his shirt and tailcoat to the floor before reaching for his belt. Realizing where this was heading, you pulled the remainder of your nightgown over your head, leaving your entire body on display for him before you placed it gently in your lap unsure of what to do next.

Sensing your uncertainty, he took your nightgown from you and tossed it to the floor, taking charge. He climbed on top of your body while he pushed his pants down his legs and planted himself on your chest. His lips enveloped your right nipple while his large hand twisted and grabbed at your left breast. Benedict had seen the tops of them over the years in the countless corsets you had worn, but seeing them bare as they are now, he felt like the luckiest man in London.

As he kissed your chest, it only created a desperate need to be inside you. He was dying to watch your breasts bounce as he pumped in and out of you, fucking you like he had always dreamed of. Your body was a dream in its entirety. How Benedict got so lucky to claim it was beyond him, but he knew better than to question God’s gifts.

“You are breathtaking, my love.” He moaned, rutting against you as he switched directions and kissed up your neck, “You are a goddess, and I am only a lucky mortal who gets to bear witness to your beauty.”

“Benedict—” You begged, cutting yourself off as you reached for him, “I miss your fingers. Put them back inside me.”

You were addicting and those words only ensured your future husband that he would never let you leave him. He would never be able to survive another day without seeing the glow that your face currently held. He buried his head into the side of your neck and reached for his cock knowing you were ready from the wetness that soaked in between your legs.

“I am going to give you something better than my fingers.” He stated, hungrily. Your brain is too foggy to comprehend what he means by this statement. What could be better than his fingers? “I am going to give you my cock, and it is going to hurt for a moment at first, but I promise you it will feel better after a while.”

“It will hurt?” You asked, sounding frightened.

“It is nothing you can not handle, my dear.” He smiled, kissing your temple not wanting your nervousness to interfere with your pleasure, “I love you, and I guarantee this will bring you pleasure. It just takes a moment to get used to the size, but you are wet enough that it should not hurt exceptionally bad.”

You grabbed at his biceps anxiously, stopping him for a moment, “My mother said that the marital duty—“ You interrupted yourself as his eyebrows narrowed at you, and you knew the reason for his confusion was that with him, there would be no marital duty. You had a feeling that your marriage would be entirely different from your parents because unlike your parents you and Benedict were a match made of love, “She said that making love was painful and unpleasant for the first time. One of the worst pains imaginable.” A tear pricked at the corner of your eyes, “I am frightened.”

“Oh, my love,” He cooed, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, “You may not need to be frightened with me. Yes, sex can hurt if you are not properly prepared, but I have ensured that you are ready for this experience. The more you think about it, the worse you will build it up in your head. Just relax, dearest. The more you relax the better it will be.”

You nodded your head, but you did not remove your hands from Benedict’s large biceps, you closed your eyes almost as if you were bracing yourself for him. Wanting to bring you as much ease as possible, Benedict leaned down to kiss your temple before moving to your lips. Your hands moved from his arms to his face, and while you were occupied with the feeling of your lips on his, he grabbed his cock in his hand, stroking it twice before pushing only the head inside,allowing you time to adjust.

A quick gasp escaped you and in an instant your hands were back on his biceps. It took every ounce of strength that possessed Benedict to not push into you further, but he wanted this to be a good experience for you, and he refused to put you in more pain than he had to.

“You just tell me when you are ready for me to move, and I will, dearest. This is all up to you.”

“Ok,” You murmured breathlessly, nodding your head. The sting inside you had dulled to an aching need for him to move, “You may move.”

At that, Benedict pushed further in, slowly seating himself completely in your heat. The pain worsened slightly, but with the way he whispered sweet nothings to you and kissed you so softly, you were too overcome with emotions to comprehend the pain. He sat inside you for a moment, not wanting to rush this time with you and not wanting it to be over so soon. You were so tight and squeezing him like a vice that he needed a minute or else it would all be over before it began.

Once you both had adjusted to the feeling of eachother’s warmth, Benedict began moving. He slowly started pulling his length out until he pushed back in before he could slip out of you, continuing pumping in and out as you got used to the feeling. It was almost enough, but you knew you needed more.

“More, Ben,” You moaned, breathily, “Faster.”

A lazy smirk fell on Benedict's lips as he placed his forehead against yours, “Look at my needy girl. She’s begging for it like some common street whore. It's ok, my love. I will take care of you.”

Your eyes widened at his statement, and you wished you could say that his words had no effect on your body, but with the way your head unintentionally fell back and your lips gasped for more of him, you knew it would be nothing but a lie.

Benedict ravaged your body like you were his for the taking, which you were, and it made you realize that you could not have lived another second without having Benedict this intimately. You were not meant to be any man’s wife but his. You were not meant to bear any child that lacked the last name Bridgerton. As your childhood best friend gave you everything you had always wanted, you knew that he was your destiny in every life, and you couldn’t fathom how you almost let him go.

As Benedict kissed your lips, your neck, your cheeks, and every inch of your face while he pounded in you, he placed one hand on the bottom of left thigh and lifted your leg over his shoulder, resting it there as he picked up his pace. The feeling instantly left butterflies in your stomach, and a loud moan escaped you as you relished the feeling of this new angle.

“Oh, Benedict! You must not stop. I have a feeling I cannot name—” You shouted and he placed his large hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

With sweat dripping off both of your bodies, Benedict leaned down placing his mouth by your ear without slowing his pace in the slightest.

“That is called an orgasm, my love, and I want it to rip through you like a flood. Just tell me when you are there, and I will finish with you.”

You nodded your hands gripping his biceps as he pummeled into you until you simply could not hold it any longer. Sensing your closeness to the edge, Benedict somehow managed to speed up as he stared at your breasts, watching as they bounced every time he thrusted into you. His hips became sloppy as he felt how close he was as well.

“Ben—” You gasped, unable to even finish a sentence.

“I know. I know. I’m right there with you.”

In that moment, it felt as though fireworks exploded between you, your body convulsing in bliss and your mouth parting with cries of ecstasy. Benedict, equally overwhelmed, carefully lowered your leg before collapsing onto you, mindful not to crush you. The sensation was indescribable. Although Benedict had been with other women before, he knew he could never return to those empty encounters, for nothing compared to being with the one he truly loved.

As the euphoria gradually subsided, you both lay there, tangled in each other’s embrace, feeling the warmth of your shared connection. Benedict gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch tender and affectionate. His eyes, filled with a mix of satisfaction and devotion, met yours.

"You are heavenly," he whispered, his voice husky and sincere.

You smiled, feeling a surge of happiness and contentment. "So are you," you replied softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his back.

For a while, neither of you spoke, savoring the intimate silence and the steady rhythm of your breathing. It was in these quiet moments that you felt the depth of your bond, stronger and more profound than ever before.

Eventually, Benedict propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze never leaving your face. "I love you," he said, the words carrying the weight of his heart, “I will never leave you, and if I have to duel Lord Kensington or your father to have you as my wife, I will do so happily.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion.

You both knew that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary, a journey of love and passion that you would navigate together, no matter what challenges lay ahead. No matter what the morning brought, no matter what your father said, whether he cast you out or forbade you from marrying Benedict, it didn't matter. You knew in your heart that you were meant to be Benedict Bridgerton's wife. It was always you. This new and sacred union would withstand the scrutiny of the ton and any obstacles thrown your way. Your love was destined, and nothing could change that. As long as you had each other, you could face anything the world decided to challenge you with.

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pathetichimbos · 1 year

Text

Well, guys, a single person told me I should make this into a post, and so now you're all getting another fabulous take on Thomas Hewitt I've been looking for an excuse to talk about.

Question: 'Do you think realistically would it be hard to get into a relationship with Tommy?'

Short Answer: Yes! And no.

Ha, you really thought there'd be a short answer to this? No, let's dive in.

Thomas, on the surface, is a very awkward, to himself kind of guy. He doesn't like stepping out of his comfort zones, and he hates change. He thrives on strict routine, and isn't one to do something without being told. (ex: he doesn't take initiative at the slaughterhouse, he does exactly as he's told and doesn't stray from those rules)

He has an extremely strong sense of familial bond and ties to his family, he wouldn't betray them for anything, (and yes, that includes you too). It's a huge cultural things in small towns. It doesn't matter who your family is or what they've done. It's true ride or die mentality.

Considering these things, if you want to hope to have a relationship with him, you're gonna have to take up their lifestyle. Every part of it.

If you've ever been to an old southern woman's house, you know how insulting it is to refuse food. It's practically the same thing as spitting on their shoes and slapping them in the face. If you refuse a home cooked meal, especially when you're still considered a 'guest' in the house, you will end up on their bad side.

And Thomas is a Mama's boy, through and through, if his mother doesn't like you, he doesn't like you.

And that mentality is only doubled for the Hewitts. Their family has starved, and if you've ever struggled for food, you understand why they won't let it happen again. I could go into a whole in depth analysis on the Hewitt family and their cannibalism, but let's get back to Tommy.

Thomas doesn't trust people easily. It's in their family, in his blood. The Hewitts (especially after they start murdering people) are suspicious and unforgiving people. People will often assume that they became isolated after the town died out and everyone left, but in reality, they were isolated long before that, as Luda Mae, Hoyt, and even Monty (though much less than the other two) wouldn't tolerate Tommy's mistreatment and abuse.

And as for Thomas' personal distrust, I can almost guarantee there were several times people would pretend to be his friend or even go as far as 'asking him out' only to immediately burst into laughter and mock him the moment he got excited.

Now, he's much more closed off and distrusting of strangers kindness and friendliness.

...But, he's a huge romantic.

He absolutely loves the idea of having someone to love.

His favorite books Luda Mae would read to him as a child were the princess stories. He would dream of being the prince charming, saving the princess from the retched beast so they could get married and live happily ever after.

But, as he got older, he started believing he was better fit for the role of the filthy monster that never falls in love.

Packaging all this up into one neat present, you get a pretty clear idea of what kind of man Thomas is.

So, how does one actually end up in a relationship with him?

It's simple! In the most complicated way possible.

First, is actually meeting him in a none murderer-victim setting, because once you hit that area, there's really no going back. If he's told you're next, you're next.

He's going to be really suspicious of you, no matter what you do really. Even if you do become 'friends', he's a rather anxious man, and he's going to have doubts for a long time.

You're going to have to get on everyone's good side. Like I said before, he cares deeply about his family and their opinions, and being around them and accepted by them is a non-negotiable. And I don't just mean Luda Mae, I mean everyone, including Monty and Hoyt.

Speaking of Hoyt, that will have it's own ground rules as well.

Thomas, despite being a big hunk of a man who could easily toss around someone twice Hoyt's weight, is not the man of the house. Hoyt is like a father figure to him, and he looks up to him. Well, not in every way, but you get the picture.

He isn't going to take well to you bad-mouthing Hoyt. Of course, he doesn't care if you want to rant about the man's annoying presence sometimes, but it depends on how close the two of you are and what you're saying.

If you try to accuse the man of being abusive, or not caring about his family, Thomas isn't going to like it. Hoyt is a mean hothead, sure, and by today's standards, most people probably would consider him abusive to a certain extent, but this is a small southern town in the 1970s.

Hell, most of the 'abusive' traits Hoyt show are still practiced in small towns to this day, and are considered normal behavior. Again, I could go into a whole spiel about Hoyt's character and actions, but I'll get to the point.

If there is one thing true about Hoyt, it's that he cares about his family. Every action he takes is in their interest, and he'd put his life on the line to keep them safe, including Thomas. Hell, he protected Tommy as a kid just as much as Luda Mae did.

So, yea, really any bad talk about his family is going to get you on his bad side.

But, let's say that you follow these rules, and you mesh well with his family and him, how long will it take for Tommy to actually catch feelings for you?

...Pretty much almost immediately.

Thomas is reserved and untrusting, yes, but he catches crushes faster than a Tommy-hater can catch these hands. (for reference, that's really fast)

He's a sweetheart, and eager to be loved and accepted, so the irrational, romantic side of his brain eager hops on the Y/N train the moment you show him any real affection.

But as for actually loving you? That's going to take a really long time.

Luda Mae always raised him on the idea that love can't exist without trust, and he takes that to the extreme. He literally won't consider a relationship with you until he can completely trust you with his whole heart.

And once that trust is earned and the two of you become 'official', that's it. He's in it for life. In his eyes, you're the only one for him, and he takes that belief to heart. So it is extremely important that you only enter the relationship when you're 100% ready. He won't understand the concept of needing a 'break', or time apart. Once you're in it, you're in it, and if you ever leave, there's no coming back, and Thomas will leave your life entirely, with the rest of the Hewitts shunning you as a result.

Because of this, it's also important to remember that there really is no such thing as 'harmless' flirting with Thomas. He doesn't understand the concept of friendly flirting. He's either going to assume that you're mocking him or that you actually do have feelings for him.

Communication is a huge key with this man!!! He doesn't pick up well on hints or social cues. Be up front of and honest about you're feelings or he will have no idea how you really feel, and it'll only cause heartbreak and confusion in the long run.

...Well. Now that I've practically made a How-to Guide on romancing Thomas, I think I'll call it here. Good luck on attracting your local Hewitt boys. See y'all in the next one.

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x s/o #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x s/o

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bigbangclappin · 2 years

Text

Baby Daddy Gangster 2

Summary: Ding Dong! Your baby daddy is back and wants in your life and your daughter’s. And with that smile you might as well shove the door wide open.

Paring: Nakamoto YutaXReader(1st Person POV!)

Warnings: Cursing! Baby Daddy themes, mentions of smut, toxic relationships, Mafia/Yakuza themes (It’s not glamorous in real life folks!)

Word Count: 2,382

A/N: GUYS IT'S FINALLY HERE! PART TWO! I hope it's enjoyable! I loved writing it! Let me know if we want a part three!

Tag List: @iveivory @champagne-n-yachts @dilfjohhny @junglewoos

Part one

Unknown number: Is Yuki wearing a 3T or a 4T?

You: Who is this?

Unknown number: Really baby?

I shook my head in exasperation, throwing my phone into my back pocket. The man was relentless to say the least, he did earn that title fair and square.

What could I have possibly been thinking back then?

Clearly sexual gratification was worth more to me than my hypothetical child’s future, because now here I am. Stuck with a gangster for a baby daddy who didn’t understand the phrase get lost.

I shrugged my shoulders, well there was nothing I could do to change who Yuki’s dad is now. I just had to live with the consequences of my actions.

Which wasn't all that bad considering my daughter was healthy and happy, I grinned as she played with her dolls on the floor. She did resemble her father, with her pretty smile and expressive eyes, she received all the best qualities of Yuta it seemed.

“Mommy?” Her sweet little voice asked from where she sat on the floor.

“Hmm?”

“Guess what?”

I giggled because she loved to play guessing games ever since she could speak in almost full sentences. I never had the heart to discourage her playful chatter despite her daycare teacher’s warning about how it was becoming disruptive in class.

“What?” I replied casually, taking a sip from my drink.

“I met Daddy today.”

My entire mouthful of beverage was spewed across the room and on to my daughter who whines.

“Mommy ew!” She cried, wiping her little arms in disgust.

“Oh Yuki I’m so sorry sugar,” I snagged some paper towels from the kitchen and began cleaning her off.

“But what did you mean by you met Daddy?” I asked keeping my tone as even as possible. “You don’t have a Daddy, remember?”

She shook her head defiantly, her dark hair flying every which way, “I do have a Daddy mommy! And he’s pretty! And look he gived me a present!!”

My heart was racing as she flew to her small panda backpack. She rummaged through it for a moment before wobbling her way back to me with something in her tiny hand.

When the gold glinted in the light I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, he really went behind my back. I shouldn’t have been surprised, I shouldn’t have felt hurt either. Yuta was resourceful and clearly he used those resources to his advantage to find Yuki’s school.

The tiger bracelet in my daughter’s hand mocked me; after everything I had done to keep that God damned insignia out of her life he literally just dropped it in her hand like nothing.

Once a fucking bastard always a bastard.

It took all I had in me to not snatch the piece of gaudy jewelry out of Yuki’s hand and melt it in my fireplace. I took a very, long and deep breath in.

“Yuki, how did you get this?”

“I told you Mama,” She exasperated, “Daddy gived it to me”

“It’s gave love,” I corrected, “Where did he give it to you?”

She put her finger to her lips in thought, “Mr. Lee tooked us outside to play and dis really big car was dere. Den a big scary man got out, he was not nice Mommy, but den Daddy got out and yelled my name–”

“Yuki, that's dangerous, we've talked about not speaking to strangers!” I scolded her, literally stunned. My daughter was so trusting she basically ran into her father’s arms without question.

She recoiled at my tone and began playing with the little trinket on the bracelet out of nervousness, “But Daddy isn’t a stranger…”

I didn’t mean to scoff at my child but she had never met her father once, I know Yuki was sweet and that she was young but I couldn’t understand why she went against what I taught her for a man who is a complete stranger to her.

“Yuki,” I sighed, “You don’t have a daddy Sugar.”

Her cheeks turned red with a huff, “I do too!”

I put a hand to my forehead ready to end the man I had loved for most of my life. This is exactly why I wanted to keep him out of her life.

“Where was Mr. Lee?” I decided to change my questioning to keep her from getting any more upset.

“He came over after Daddy gived-gave me my present.”

“Did he say anything to…Daddy?” I literally had to swallow the bile rising in my throat.

It took Yuki a moment to respond before she said, “Mr. Lee picked me up and asked Daddy who he was.”

“Anything else?” I pushed knowing it was a little unfair to expect her to remember everything the men said or did but my three year old was my only witness.

“Ummmm yeah!” she said excitedly, “Daddy asked Mr. Lee why are you holding my daughter? And then Mr. Lee said dat I don’t have a daddy. But den Daddy showed Mr. Lee a piece of paper and Daddy told me that he would see me and mommy later and got in the big car again. ”

Oh Jesus Christ. He never changes. Over possessive asshole and what the hell did he show Yuki’s teacher? Such a jerk off move to use my kid as a way to exert some weirdo caveman claim on me.

This was a mess I did not agree to and it was stressing me out. I had no immediate fix to remedy Yuta throwing himself into Yuki’s life. I didn’t even have a clue on where to begin to unravel everything my baby daddy put into her head.

“Thanks baby,” I patted her head, “Go wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

“Okay mommy.” she scooted off as I made off for the kitchen.

I never quite made it there because there was a knock on the front door. I sighed I didn’t want to deal with any door-to-door missionaries or salesmen. I went to check the peephole and saw my worst nightmare standing there.

Looking more delicious than the last time I had seen him. Tight ass tshirt hugging his pecs and abs. His organization’s tattoos were covered by the jacket he wore all but the ones on his neck. That same damn tiger he gave to Yuki was peeking over his shirt collar like a damn slap to my face.

Against my better judgment I opened the door. I had a bone to pick with him about going behind my back.

“So you’re a stalker now?” I asked with a strong bite.

He flashed his panty dropping smile at me as he smashed the cigarette he was smoking out under his fancy loafers.

“Only for you baby,” he poked at me with that cheeky tone, “And of course our beautiful Yuki.”

I frowned in anger instantly, “You had no right to go to her school Yuta.”

He tsked, “Why not? Because you said so? Last time I checked I never signed over my parental rights.”

“Are you serious right now?” I gasped in shock, “You abandoned us not an hour after she took her first breath! You never came out of the shadows to do anything with her! As far as I am concerned you did sign off on any kind of rights or relationship.”

His cheeks flushed red which meant he was starting to lose his temper. A real shocker.

“You have no idea the threats I was facing at work, I abandoned our family so that you and our daughter wouldn’t get hurt or worse.”

“Why weren’t you honest with me then? I would’ve understood if it came down to her safety—”

“You’re full of it babe you gave me a hard time whenever I uttered a single word about the family. If I had told you the truth at the time you would’ve ran and I would have never been able to keep tabs on you and Yuki like I’ve been able to since she was born. At least this way I could be with you during your pregnancy and keep you both safe even if that meant I couldn’t be with you after you gave birth to her.”

My head was spinning and I felt like I was being gaslighted, “When I told you I was pregnant you told me to get an abortion.”

He let out a hum, “And when you slapped me across my face that was the end of it. I knew how serious you were about wanting her. I never said another word about it.”

“You’re literally insane…” I mumbled running an entirely confused hand through my hair.

“No doubt about that babe you knew that when we got together back in school. Now that we’ve cleared the air may I please come in and see our daughter? I brought gifts…and since you chose to be petty and ignore me about what size she is I also brought gift receipts.”

I finally noticed the large men standing off to the side with armfuls of gift bags, large, small, medium, mostly girly in prints and pinks. Oh my god he’s bribing my kid, he’s seriously bribing my daughter.

“Yuta do you realize how confusing this must be for her? Like you were nonexistent in her three years of life and just want to pop in with presents and pretend like you were always there? That’s not fair to her, just because you’re her biological father doesn't automatically mean you have a relationship with her. And while we’re on the subject, what the hell did you show to Mark?”

Yuta ticked his jaw to the side and licked his lips; he was angry for sure.

“Who the fuck is Mark?” He snapped at me some of his cool demeanor flying out the window.

Jealous. Again. Over someone who watches Yuki. Utterly ridiculous.

“Yuki’s teacher, remember?” I bit back, “You shoved something in his face, what was it?”

“Her fucking birth certificate,” he said with a clenched jaw, “So you’re on a first name basis with all of her teachers then?”

“Nakamoto Yuta,” I spat, “Enough with your petty jealousy it’s irritating and irrational and also unwarranted.”

“Apparently it isn’t if you’re on a first name basis with her teacher.”

I was 1000% over his childish attitude. This wasn’t the first time we argued over his tendency to get jealous.

“Have a lovely evening Yuta,” I started to close the door but one of the beefy men blocked me from slamming it in my baby daddy’s face.

Yuta snapped at the man in Japanese but looked back to me, “Let me in to see our daughter (Y/n).”

“I didn’t bow to you three years ago and I’m certainly not doing it now,” I growled at him, “You can’t snap your fingers and expect me to jump for you like a dog.”

He ran a hand through his dark shaggy hair in anger, “I expect you to let me have a relationship with our daughter.”

I folded my arms across my chest in means of frustration and protection, “What’s your endgame here Yuta?”

“There’s no endgame here (Y/n) but wanting a relationship with Yuki.”

“Why now though Yuta?” I questioned him with my head tilted.

He opened his mouth to answer when a small cry came from behind me. “Daddy!”

I blocked my daughter’s view by placing my legs in front of the small slot made by the door, “Look what you’ve done. How am I supposed to explain to her that you left when you inevitably leave again?”

The look on his face was a mixture of anger and hurt with his jaw clenched he said, “What I did to keep you and Yuki safe should not be what you hold against me (Y/n), I’ve done a lot of things to warrant your resentment but this is not one of them I promise. You chose me too, you know? It takes two people to have a baby.”

“It’s not my fault the condom broke Yuta…” I growled quietly and my eyes shifted toward my elderly neighbor who was out walking her Poodle. Apparently I wasn’t quiet enough since she gave us an affronted look on her way by.

“It’s your fault you weren’t taking the pill babe,” he said just as angry, “We can point fingers all we want but it’s a little late for the blame game don’t you think? All I want is to see our daughter. Regardless of our past, Yuki has the right to a father.”

My daughter began swatting my legs so she could get to Yuta, “Mommy I wanna see Daddy. Move please!”

I scoffed at how rude my daughter was, “Yuki, that's not how we ask to get by, telling someone to move is impolite.”

“Sorry Mommy but Daddy’s here!”

“Sugar I’ve already told you that you do not have a–”

“(Y/n) don’t you dare finish that sentence. You’re the one that’s going to confuse her. Come here my baby girl, I brought you something!”

My blood boiled as I watched my baby daddy pick my little girl up and kiss her cheek while letting her peek into one of the large gift bags. I couldn’t resist the little smile that poked through at her excited squeal, her happiness was contagious.

My stomach may have done a flip when I noticed the soft look on my ex’s face as he helped Yuki rifle through the clothes he had bought her. It was probably just wishful thinking on my part, but seeing him hold my child just felt natural.

I awkwardly made eye contact with another neighbor who lived across the way and even with the distance I could see the judgmental look on his face. I sighed, finally relenting to let the men in. I didn’t want anyone to report me to the landlord on suspicious activity.

I pushed the door aside and motioned to Yuta, “Come inside, people are staring.”

He gave me that gorgeous smile that got me pregnant in the first place, “Thanks baby.”

As I allowed his guards inside I knew I was going to live to regret my decision but what could one visit hurt?

A lot.

It could hurt a lot.

#nakamoto yuta #yuta nct127 #kpop scenarios #bigbangclappin #nakamoto yuta angst #nakamoto yuta smut #nakamoto yuta imagine #nakamoto yuta mafia au #nct mafia au #yakuza au #nct 127 angst #nct au #nct gang au #nct 127 au #kpop angst

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thelov3lybookworm · 11 months

Text

Remember Me? Part 7

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: Tagging this as Rhys x reader because rhysie makes an appearance.

don't really like how i wrote this chapter, but thats okay...right?

also, i wanna choke rhys to death

•○🌑○•

Y/n locked the door behind her, trying her best to ignore the heated gaze she felt on the back of her head.

When she turned back to her son and him, she found him staring at her, his eyes unwavering. He felt guilty, that much she knew. What for, that she didn't.

Or maybe she did, but a part of her didn't want him to feel guilty because her son deemed him worthy of being given the title of his father.

That thought brought her to a conclusion. Talking to her son. Getting to know the reason he called the High lord of Autumn his father.

She smiled softly at Fin, deciding she'd talk to her neighbours about her abrupt departure later. She was going to ask one of her neighbour friends to let the home owner know of her departure and return the keys.

The walk to the ice cream shop was tense, though Fin obviously didn't notice as he told Y/n all about the things he and Eris did in Velaris. While Rhysand had been in their home, trying to manipulate Y/n into taking him back.

Eris occasionally chimed in, his eyes constantly fixed on Y/n, and she knew he was trying to get a reaction out of her.

Despite the fact that she barely knew anything about him and he only really cared about Fin, Y/n had a very weird feeling blooming in her chest.

Eris was... adorable.

Fin was holding both Y/n and Eris's hands as he hopped along he path, his excitement filling his little body with energy.

As soon as the ice cream shop came into view, the one where Eris and Fin had first met, Eris stilled, his leg hovering mid-air, his gaze fixed on something in the distance.

Y/n finally glanced at Eris for the first time since Fin had called him his father, a question bubbling in her mind.

Before she could ask him what the matter was, though, he turned to Y/n.

"You two proceed. I'll be right there. I remembered something I need to do."

Y/n's brow furrowed, but she nodded. The next moment, Eris was gone, vanishing between the crowd on the streets of Velaris.

"Mommy, can we go there first?" Fin questioned, making her look at him. She followed his gaze to where he was pointing. It was his favourite bakery.

"Why?" She asked, subconsciously looking around to catch a glimpse of that familiar head of hair the colour of fire.

"Because I want to say bye to Miss Alina."

Y/n's heart swelled at that. Alina was an old lady who ran the bakery, and both the old lady and Fin had taken a liking to each other. Alina had never married after her lover died, so she didn't have any family other than a dying brother. She doted on Fin as if he were her own grandchild. And Fin, having never known the love of a grandmother, had instantly become a loving grandchild to a practical stranger.

"Sure my love."

Fin grinned happily at that.

"Thank you mommy!"

•○🌑○•

"Can I ask you something Fin?" Y/n questioned as she and Fin left the bakery.

Alina had practically been on the verge of tears the moment she found that Fin was leaving Velaris. As a result, she had stuffed anything she could find in sight into a paper bag and handed it to the little boy, telling him to eat all of it.

As fin walked, trying not to jostle his treats too much, he looked over at Y/n. "Yes mama."

"Why did you call Eris daddy?"

Fin nodded like it was the most reasonable question in the world. "Because he does everything daddies do."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Daddies play with children, take them out to have fun and let them eat ice creams."

Y/n held in a surprised laugh. "Where did you learn that?"

"By myself." Fin said proudly, puffing up his chest. "I noticed Sam's daddy did all those things for him."

"That is great my love."

After a moment's silence, Fin spoke again, though his voice was quieter. "Is he not my daddy?"

Y/n blinked. She wanted to say that Eris wasn't Fin's father, but it was as if a power greater than something Y/n could understand was controlling Y/n's words. "He is your daddy."

Fin's face brightened. Then he gasped at something in front of him, and Y/n lifted her head to follow his gaze. There, stood near the railing of the Sidra, exactly where they had first met, was Eris, a slash of a cruel smirk on his mouth. And he...

Was talking to Rhys.

Feyre and Nyx also stood there next to Rhys, watching the exchange between the two high lords.

The lapse in Y/n's focus gave Fin the perfect opportunity to break free of Y/n's hold and run to where Eris was standing.

"Daddy!" Fin squealed, the sound making Rhysand turn to look. His face broke into an disbelieving smile, his eyes going wide as he stared at Fin. His eyes met Y/n's for a moment, and he looked so grateful Y/n couldn't help but feel pity for him.

Fin ran straight into Eris's arms, laughing when Eris's hands found the little boy's ticklish areas and tickled, just a little before scooping him into his arms.

When Eris met Y/n's eyes, his were filled with weariness and caution, because he knew to never mess with a mother who was protective of her child. He still smiled widely at Fin, but his eyes spoke a whole different story.

And Y/n let a little, tiny smile bloom on her face as she walked towards Eris.

His eyes widened, his smile vanishing, his lips parting in surprise. That was when Y/n realised that she had never smiled much around Eris.

If she had, it had only been directed at Fin.

That had her feeling something she had not felt in a long time.

Feeling a heated gaze on the side of her head, she turned to find find Rhys glaring holes into her.

She tried not to swallow at the cold fire in that violet gaze.

She was intimidated, but still held eye contact with her former lover.

The tension in the air increased, the world ceasing to exist around Y/n and Rhysand.

A small, sinister smile curled his lips, and a shiver wound its way up Y/n's spine. The bags under his eyes and his overall tired look made him look like he was about to level the whole of Velaris for some fun.

Y/n felt guilty and wanted nothing more than to crawl to her true love, beg for his forgiveness and be with him again. Let him back in and love him in the all consuming way she had always loved him. Sit Fin down and tell him Eris was not his father and Rhys was.

Y/n?

Y/n jolted, blinking rapidly as she searched around for the mortal scum that had stolen her lover-

Fin was looking at Y/n when she turned to him, and concern was evident in his features.

And Y/n realised three things in that moment. The first being that two people had been in her mind. The second being that Feyre was concerned and had been trying to call for Y/n, and when she didn't respond, Feyre had slipped into Y/n's mind.

And that Rhys had been trying to control her again.

Her blood boiled as she met Rhys eyes again. They were hard now and filled with murderous intent.

"Daddy, can we get ice cream now? Then we can share the cupcakes miss Alina gave me." Fin asked, and that was enough to draw Y/n's attention.

Eris shot a look between Y/n and Rhys, his brows furrowed. Y/n shook her head slightly, and then Eris turned to Fin, smiling. "Sure, let's go."

Eris walked off, asking Fin about Alina's wellbeing. Y/n watched them go, smiling slightly at the happiness on Fin's face.

Every child deserved happiness without having to worry about anything.

But her stomach churned, knowing what she was about to do next might very well ruin a child's life.

Y/n turned back to where Feyre stood, holding Nyx in her arms. Feyre had a slight smile on her face, staring after Fin and Eris as Nyx began wiggling in Feyre's arms, and she let him onto the ground.

Nyx waddled the short distance to his father, looking up at the male with wide, innocent eyes as he tugged on Rhys's pants.

"Papa? Can we go too?" He asked in a sweet voice, one that would make anyone in the world cave to his demands.

Rhys didn't bother looking at the little boy. "No."

Nyx blinked, as if not having expected the answer. "Please papa."

Rhys sighed, his frustration showing through his voice. "I said no, Nyx. Can you not understand the simple answer?"

Nyx's lip wobbled, and Y/n's heart clenched. By the look on Feyre's face, she felt the same.

"Papa please. I want to eat ice cream with Finnie." The little boy was on the verge of tears, not used to such a harsh behaviour from his father.

Rhys shot a scathing glare at the little boy. "You want to go have fun with Finnie, go. I will not come with you. Cauldron, you are getting on my nerves now."

With that, Rhysand shot into the sky, muttering to himself.

Nyx stared after him, tears escaping his eyes as he started hiccuping and sobbing loudly.

Feyre dropped to her knees next to Nyx. "It's okay baby. You and I can get ice cream with Fin without daddy."

Nyx stomped angrily, pushing away Feyre's hands as they tried to wrap around him. "No! I don't want to get ice cream without papa."

Y/n could do nothing but watch helplessly, her own heart screeching in agony.

"I hate papa." He sobbed, wiping his nose on his sleeve furiosly, still staring at the fading figure of Rhys in the sky.

"You should not say that Nyx-"

"Do you not want to spend time with Fin?" Y/n cut Feyre off, crouching next to Nyx. "Fin is going away and might not be able to meet you for long time. You should at least come to say goodbye."

Nyx's crying ceased for a moment, soft hiccups shaking his body as he seemed to think on what Y/n had said.

He sniffed loudly, glancing at Feyre before nodding. "Okay."

Feyre and Y/n led Nyx into the ice cream shop where Fin was staring at all the flavours displayed, an adorable furrow in his brow, his tiny hands on his hip like he was contemplating the best way to attack his enemies. The moment the bell above the store chimed, Fin turned to look, his face brightening at the sight of Nyx. He motioned the younger boy to come forward, which Nyx did.

The moment Nyx left, Feyre turned to Y/n.

"You're leaving?"

"Yes. About that..."

Y/n took a deep breath.

"I need to tell you something."

•○🌑○•

Part 8

Taglist: @holb32@awoa1@cleverzonkwombatsludge@luvmoo@we-were-beautiful@eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913@j-pendragonx@thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz@esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow@bubybubsters@eos-princess@nightless@bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten@txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman@leeknows-wife@aria-chikage@amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover@kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay@acourtofbatboydreams@stained-glass-eyes0708

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seramilla · 3 months

Note

So Emily after sneaking into hell to find her mother realizes it was a bad idea. Things are so much more chaotic and we'll worse than she thought she gets attacked though is able to escape unharmed and is having a bad time wondering if she should go back to heaven before suddenly she gets hit a by a dart and fall unconscious. She is waking up in a room tied to a chair hearing to women talking in Spanish about what they should do with the angel on is wearing a lab coat with glasses the other a crop top and pony tail. Once they notice Emily has come to they talk demanding to know what Emily was here to do and refusing the answer of looking for her mother. Clara (Emily doesn't know any names yet) threatens to torture her to get the answer out trying to seem though before Odette tells her they aren't both for ethical reasons and the whole torture doesn't work reason. (It doesn't look it up.) Clara wouldn't have she doesn't have the heart to actually hurt Emily but Emily doesn't know that. Emily insists that she is looking for her mom who fell thousands of years ago and the girls continue to not believe her. Finally Carmilla shows up she was in a meeting when she learned her girls caught an Angel and only just now got out to see this angel who they think is a spy. Carmilla doesn't recognize her at first and like her daughters assumes she is lying until Emily says her mothers name is Carmilla. (Emily doesn't know Carmilla's name at this point since the girls call her mom and mama)

Carmilla looks at this woman that her girls have brought before her, shocked and overcome with emotion. Never in all her years of being an overlord has she ever witnessed something like this. An angel, who had been waltzing around Hell and asking questions, as if every second in this place didn't mount the danger for a stranger such as herself tenfold.

It's even worse...so much worse, because she is practically a carbon copy of...her. Sera. Her long lost love. The resemblance is uncanny. Like if she reaches out and touches those freckled cheeks, she will feel the cool and familiar softness of Sera's face against her palm. Could she be...could Sera have moved on? Without her? Then why is this person here, asking for a "Carmilla?" Asking for her?

"Run this by me one more time, Emily," Carmilla says, even her one remaining virtue of patience being tested by this girl's wild story. "You left Heaven, of your own free will, to come look for this Carmilla? Why in all the realms would you do that? Without an entourage or escort? What business could a young angel like you have with a demon?"

Emily looks down. Poking her fingers together, like she's ashamed to have been caught. Ashamed to be breaking one of Heaven's greatest taboos. She should be ashamed, but for some reason, despite the danger, and how utterly careless this young woman is being, Carmilla can't bring herself to push the matter further.

"Like I told your daughters..." Emily begins, motioning to Clara and Odette, who are watching curiously from the sidelines. "I am looking for my mother. She's a fallen angel. Named Carmilla. She was pushed out a long time ago...I just wanted to see if she's still alive...and let her know that my other mother misses her very much."

Carmilla takes a deep breath. Lets it out slowly. No, her other mother couldn't possibly be...

"And what is your other parent's name?" Carmilla asks, already anticipating the answer.

"She is the High Seraphim, Sera. I was conceived right before Carmilla fell. I don't even know if she realizes I exist."

Sera...Emily...Seraphim. Leave it to Sera, but her naming scheme is predictable, if nothing else. Oh, holy fucking Hell, how had Carmilla not realized this sooner?

Carmilla turns around. Clara and Odette look on in concern as Carmilla takes her face into her claws, holding her cheeks as she tries desperately not to show how startled she is. Emily...her and Sera's daughter...here with her now...with her and Sera's other children...

She turns back around to look at Clara and Odette. Her other girls appear to have come to the same conclusion, their startled and shocked expressions giving away everything they must be feeling inside. She's never hidden Sera's name from them. She'd always wanted her girls to know where they came from. Had told them everything a long time ago.

Their mother is also Sera, because Carmilla had also Fallen while pregnant. So this Emily person is their other sister...which means Sera is alive and well. Heaven hadn't found out about their relationship and punished her, too. Oh, thank her lucky stars for that.

Carmilla turns to Emily. Her face has suddenly changed from stern and concerned, to warm and inviting. There are tears in her eyes. Emily tilts her head, wondering if she'd said something to upset the older woman.

"Are you okay?" Emily asks, genuinely remorseful. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you sad. Do you want me to leave?"

Carmilla shakes her head. She's smiling now.

"No. I'm all right. Please, don't go. I'm just so...happy!"

Emily does look confused now, but also curious. What is this overlord getting at?

"It's just that...my name is Carmilla. I'm the only one I know of in this entire city. Most people change their names when they come here, but I didn't. And I think, based on everything you've said, that I'm the one you seek. Sera was my partner...for many hundreds, thousands of years. She was pregnant when I fell. I think you might be...I hope beyond hope that you are mine."

Emily's eyes widen. She looks at Carmilla, like her eyes might pop out of her head at any moment. Then she is the one crying. Big, drippy, snotty tears. Completely unafraid of how she looks before these complete strangers...in front of her mother.

"Carmilla!...Mama! Are you certain?"

"I think so, mija."

"Ma-Mama!" Emily throws herself at Carmilla, hugging her so tightly, Carmilla thinks her spine might crack. Emily is bawling now. She puts her head on Emily's quaking head, feeling her move up to be closer against her front. "I can't believe I finally found you. Mom...Sera...she will be so happy! I don't even know you, but...I'm sorry I came here alone, but she missed you so much! And I just wanted to meet you!"

Carmilla strokes Emily's hair, as the small angel cries into her chest. "Sshh, it's okay, mija. Everything is all right. I forgive you. Everything will be all right."

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #sera hazbin hotel #seramilla #emily hazbin hotel #odette hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #ask #anon #fan theories #fallen angels lies and love au

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darkened-sunlight · 4 months

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You are such a cutie patootie. X3

You're too kind!

#little sunrise :: dawn #dusty paintings :: art #mama told me not to talk to strangers :: asks #hollow knight oc #hk oc #hollow knight

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judes-hoe · 5 months

Text

Little Late ~ KM7

Parrings~ Kylian Mbappé x reader

Summary ~ Kylian is coming in late to your almost 4 year old daughters life, and wants to restart

Warnings ~ a little angsty, will have happy ending cause I can’t do sad endings😭.

A/N~ idk were this idea came from buttt hope you enjoy it I don’t think I have a lot of Kylian lovers that read my blog

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It’s been 4 years since you and Kylian broke up, you now live in a small 2 bedroom 1 bedroom apartment with your soon to be 4 year old daughter. You’ve been posting your daughter on instagram and Snapchat.

It was around 1pm, making your daughter some lunch because she just woke up from a nap. You hear a knock at your door you furrow your eyebrows, you quickly plate the Mac and cheese for your daughter and give it to her with some juice. “Here baby eat up, I’m gonna go get the door.” You told her setting the plate in front of her at the small dining table. “Ok mama,” Savannah said eating her food.

You walk over to the door and open it slowly, you see someone you don’t expect. “Tell me she’s mine please, I need to know,” Kylian said with pleading eyes. “She’s yours..” you said quietly. “Can I see her?” He asked. “Kylian…” you said with a soft voice. “Please, knowing I have a daughter now is…I can’t explain..” he said. “Fine follow me..” you said letting him in.

You walk over to the dining table and see Savannah is half way done with her food. “Savannah, baby, I want you to meet someone..this is your dada..” you said softly. “Dada?” She asked. “Mhm..dada this is dada..” you said. “Hi baby..” Kylian said keeping his distance not wanting to scare her. You could see the scared and confused look in her eyes. “Sweetie finish eating, Kylian let’s go talk..” you said taking Kylian to the couch.

“H-how…w-when?” He asked. “The night we had a fight and broke up, I was gonna tell you but I didn’t..I still should’ve told you though..” you said softly. “How old is she?” He asked again. “She’ll be 4 in a few months,” you told him. “I’m sorry for everything, you didn’t deserve going through that alone…” he said guilty. “Well I’ll allow you to see her and be apart of her life now..” you told him. “Really?” He asked. All you did was nod your head, you look down in your lap and speak again. “She knows your her dad, I made sure to show her pictures of you and the both of us together and sometimes we’d sit and watch you play if you had a match” you told him quietly.

He was a little shocked to say. “So she knows who I am and doesn’t think I’m a complete stranger..good..” he said quietly. Kylian looked at you and watched as you still had your head hung low. He lifts your head up with his hand under your chin. “mon amour, I miss you a lot and still love you and regret everything..” he said as he moved his face closer. “I miss you too Kylian, I still love you also..” you said and looked down at kid lips. “Kiss me mom bébè..” he said.

You lean in a give him a kiss, he holds your face and rubs his thumb against your cheek. “I’m willing to start fresh again with you and be part of my daughter’s life..” he said pulling away and looking at you. “I’m willing to restart also..” you said looking at him.

You and Kylian talk a little more before your daughter walks up over to you crawling into your lap. “You need something baby..” you ask her. “That dada?” Savannah asked. “Yeah that’s dada..” you said. “Can I hold her?” Kylian asked. You nod your head and tell Savannah to go over to him. She gets off your lap and walks over to his lap climbing in it. “Dada!” She said excitedly. You can’t help but smile at them. “Hi mom bébè, I promise to make up for my absence time with you” he whispered but you heard him and it made you happy that your restarting with him and he’ll make up for his absence in your daughters life.

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#judes-hoe😚#dad!kylian #kylian x you #kylian fluff #kylian mbappe blurb #kylian smut #kylian fanfic #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian x reader #kylian imagines #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappé

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naturesapphic · 6 months

Note

is it possible for a Natasha x Reader where Yelena and Clint found out that Natasha has another family but Reader and their kid didn't know Natasha died and the two had to tell them?

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

Natasha romanoff x wife!fem!reader, Clint Barton x reader (platonic), yelena belova x fem!reader (platonic)

Warnings: cussing and angst with no happy ending :(

A knock on your door startled you as you were playing with your children, you carefully went downstairs and peeked through the curtain to find two strangers at your door. Your blood ran cold and you immediately ran up the stairs and hid your kids in the closet with a gun just in case if anything happens and you told them to be as quiet as possible. You grabbed your own gun and quietly head down the stairs and went over to the door.

“I’m armed! What do you want!?” You shouted through the door as you heard some whispered behind shared which made you more curious and angry. “We are friends of nats.” The blonde girl said with a Russian accent. “State your name.” You said sternly. Only knowing a few names that Natasha had mentioned. “I’m yelena belova and this is Clint Barton.” She said and you knew who they were. Natasha talked about her friend Clint and she also mentioned having a sister.

You opened the door to reveal the two strangers with a sad and numb expression on their faces. “What do you want. Where’s my wife.” You sternly said with a cold expression. “Can we come in? You…you may want to sit down for this.” Clint said in a low voice as he doesn’t want to cry, especially in front of you. You shut the door and lead them to the living room where the three of you sat down. “We aren’t sure how to say this but…nats dead..”.

Clint said with no emotion behind his voice but you could clearly tell he was broken by looking in his eyes. You felt your heart break in half and that all of the oxygen that was in your lungs was sucked right out of you. “N-no. You are lying! She isn’t dead. This isn’t fucking funny.” You spat out harshly as you stood up and glared at them. Clint reached into his pocket and pulled out your wife’s wedding ring and you fell to your knees at the sight of it.

“NO!” You screamed out as you started sobbing harshly. Your kids heard your screams and they ran down screaming as one of them held out a gun. “Whoah Whoah Whoah! We are friends of your moms! Don’t shoot!” Clint yelled over the kids and they stopped in their tracks to see their mom on the floor sobbing uncontrollably. “Then why is our mom crying?” They said glaring at the two strangers as they went over to you to comfort you.

Yelena and Clint gave each other a look and sighed. “Your mama…shes..she’s gone..” yelena said softly as her own eyes filled with tears. Your kids looked up at the strangers and then down at you, confusion and sadness covered their faces. “Is this true mom?” One of them spoke out softly and you raised yourself up and showed them their mamas wedding ring. They couldn’t take the news and they ran up the stairs and slammed their bedroom doors shut. You sniffled and looked up at them. “H-how?” You asked them and Clint had his own set of tears welled up in his eyes.

“The blip. She wanted to save everyone and I couldn’t stop her in time. It was supposed to be me who jumped not her. I didn’t even know she had a family until I had to pull it out of fury when I asked him about this ring. I didn’t even know you had kids until we came down here and they were about to shoot us. I’m so sorry…I wish it was me…” Clint said as he started crying and you felt anger but empathy towards him. “I was her best friend…her work partner.” He stated as he covers his face with his hands.

“I’m her sister…I’m not sure how much she told you…” yelena said as she gave you a sad look. You were shocked but also not surprised as Natasha told you a little about her best friend who she worked with and how Natasha had a sister when she was little but they got separated in the red room. You sat back down on the couch with sadness and anger in your heart. “I promise on Natasha’s behalf I will stay here and protect you and the kids. I may not do chores and I’m very irresponsible, I know my assassin skills will keep y’all from harms way.” Yelena stated.

“And I’ll help in anyway I can as well…I’m responsible too so I’ll do anything I can. I have kids of my own and we can set up a place and time for them to meet and hang out if that’s what you would like.” He said and you nodded gently. “I just…I don’t know what to say…” you said sadly and Clint came up to you and gave you a side hug for comfort. “We understand. We are gonna go check on your kids. You just stay down here and try to…rest…” Clint said and grimaced at the end, knowing there’s no way there could be any relaxing.

“Why did she leave us behind…” you said, getting choked up. “I’m sure she loved y’all deeply…she just wanted to clear her ledger and she thought this was the only way to fully cleanse it.” Yelena explained and you nodded, kinda understanding but not fully, how could she leave y’all like this? Clint and yelena went upstairs to check on the kids while you stay downstairs, wondering and pleading why your wife would leave you behind like this, but you knew deep down she did what she thought was right and that she will always love y’all, and you were right. She was looking over y’all still to this day, protecting you and watching over her wife and kids. She will always love you.

A/n: I hope the anon likes it and i hope the rest of y’all too- well maybe not since it’s sad but yk-

Requests are still open for all of my characters including of course Rhea ripley/Demi Bennett. I have my own buy me a coffee page! You can give me a dollar and it will help. I also have some different commission types I will do so here's my page to look into it :) https://www.buymeacoffee.com/naturesapphic Requests are open for yeehaw!wanda, country!wanda, and any other southern variants of Wanda or Natasha! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love y'all!

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lottesreads · 1 year

Text

Why Me? - Part 3

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Mitchell! Female Reader (Callsign Mantis)

Warnings: Cursing, insecurities, pining, mommy issues, mentions of throw up (no actual), drunkenness

Word Count: 7580

Summary: Friday night has come and it's time for your not date with Bob! He gets a little wary of why you want to spend time with him, but he's not disappointed when it doesn't go according to plan.

A/N: Hello party people! First of all I suck at summaries, second I started school and got very busy so I apologize for posting this next part literally a month later. Let me know what you think! Also, she's a lot longer than the last two, so please enjoy!

Masterlist

The entire week leading up to Friday Bob was a nervous wreck. Your sudden want to get to know him could only be for some kind of malicious intent. He tried as hard as he could to shoo the bad thoughts away, but they kept crawling back in like a cockroach that refused to die. Sometimes he thought he could set them all on fire and be normal. But that wasn’t something you could do. And that wasn’t Bob. As much as he wished he could have a conversation without something in the back of his mind telling him he was being too awkward, or the other person wasn’t interested in what he had to say, it just wasn’t meant to be.

Everyday you would greet him and everyday Bob would greet you back. His mama didn’t raise him without manners, but each time you started talking to him it got harder for him to stop. He had already opened up to you too much. If you cracked his shell anymore, he was afraid all of his feelings would spill out. And you didn’t need to know how much he thought about you. He couldn’t let you know how beautiful or smart he thought you were because then you would know just how much power you have over him. He didn’t want to believe you would abuse that power in any way, but that voice in the back of his head told him otherwise. The damn cockroach wouldn’t die.

Bob was surprising you once again. Everyday before Friday you would ask him a question hoping it would snowball into a conversation, and everytime it did. It might have been small talk each time about the weather, or how he was doing that day, but it was something. Everyday he would tell you he was doing good, and even told you how he was glad it was starting to cool down in the evenings, presumably so he could take Sylvia on walks. At first you didn’t care that he was lying to you. Whenever he told you he was good, he’d give you a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It resembled one you’d give to a passing stranger on the street. Bob wasn’t a complete stranger. Maybe he thought you were? Let’s face it, the only thing he knows about you is your name, the fact that you’re Mav’s kid, and you fly in the Navy. Did he even want to know you?

None of that mattered. You wanted to know him, if he didn’t want to have a conversation with you he was just going to have to tell you up front about it. You so desperately needed him to want to talk to you, though. You could cry every instant he reciprocated a conversation. It was like the neighborhood stray had finally taken a liking to you, and you weren’t going to squander this opportunity. Sure this stray had made some friends and was willing to start a conversation with anyone except you, but it was a start.

That Friday wasn’t anything special at work. Each of you had done a hop or two, ending the day with Maverick assigning everyone paperwork so he could leave early. Much to the chagrin of everyone else.

“Hey now, do I need to get Hondo to come in here and babysit you until this is finished?” A resounding ‘no’ was heard as well as a few groans.

“I can keep an eye on everyone for ya’”, Hangman commented. Placing a toothpick in between his teeth. You and everyone else scoffed at this, Fanboy tossing a paper airplane his way as he swatted it.

“I don’t think that’s necessary Hangman, but thank you.” Mav makes his way through the desks but not before stopping in front of yours. You look up from your work as you raise your brows.

“Can I help you, sir?” He takes a seat in the empty chair next to you.

“No, I just wanted to make sure you’d be alright by yourself for the weekend. Just gotta grab a few things from the hangar.” You discreetly glance around, ensuring none of your coworkers are staring at you as your father, not captain, talks to you.

“Yeah, dad, I’ll be fine.” You laugh.

“Ok, that means no parties, no boys”, he lists off on his fingers. Your eyes widen as you avoid the stares and snickers from around you.

“Oh my god! How old do you think I am?”

“Old enough to know better, I’ll see you Sunday”, he kisses the top of your head as he leaves the hangar, patting Bradley on the chest.

“Bye Daddy!” Hangman shouts as Mav rounds the corner.

“You owe me 50 on Monday Hangman!” He yells back from the hallway.

“Damn it!” Hangman mutters. You laugh as you turn to your work, catching Bob’s eye as you do so. Everyone eventually focuses on their own work and is done by 5:00.

You catch Bob as he’s making his way out the door, walking to your cars together.

“Are you excited?”, you ask him with a giddy smile.

“For you to obliterate me in pool?” You knock shoulders with him.

“Oh come on, where’s that confidence we talked about?” He gives you the same smile. The one that doesn’t reach his eyes that he puts on for your benefit. “You don’t have to come tonight if you don’t want to.” You suggest. This is the only out you’re going to give him, you decide. His head snaps towards you as you both stop before your cars.

“No, I do! It’s just, confidence isn’t my strong suit.” His eyes move to the pavement, avoiding your gaze.

“Hey, it’s not mine either. You just gotta fake it ‘til you make it.” He looks up and gives you a slightly bigger smile this time. You walk backwards towards your car, “I’ll see you in an hour!”

He remains in his spot until you drive out of the lot. How did you make it seem so easy? Bob was good at faking other stuff. Faking smiles, level-headedness, but never confidence.

Once back home, he greets Sylvia, taking care of her before getting ready. Oh gosh, what was he supposed to wear? He’s never had a casual work one-on-one hangout before, or whatever this is. Staring in his closet, he decides on a black t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. It’ll be fine. Sylvia stares at him from her spot on his bed.

“What?” She cocks her head. “I know, I know, she’s just a coworker that’s it. And that’s all she’s ever gonna be.” He lets that last part out in a whisper. Trailing his eyes from the bed to the mirror in his closet. What would you even see in him? He knows he doesn’t look like any of the other guys on their squad. He’s just a nerd who for some reason you want to absolutely kill in pool. Maybe that was it, he was just another person to practice with. To knock down a few pegs. Build up his confidence just to tear it all down. Stupid cockroach.

You get to the Hard Deck a little early to stake a claim at the usual table. You wave at Penny as you walk in, racking the balls and securing two cues. It’s not too busy right now, but you know that’ll change when the Friday night crowd comes in. Right as you break you spot Bob walking up to you, hands in the pockets of his jeans. The black t-shirt hugging his biceps just right.

“Hey sailor.”

“Now if I’d have known you were coming here early to practice I wouldn’t have shown up at all.” You let out a laugh at his comment. “Save my dignity.”

“Now Bob”, you align your shot, “in order to lose dignity you have to have it in the first place.” His smile is wide and mouth is open as you turn back around.

“Oh that’s how it’s gonna be now?” You shrug and hand him a cue.

“You’re stripes.” He takes the cue from you and lets a crooked smile replace his shock. In that instant you know that’s the real one. He doesn’t try to present it to you, it’s just his natural smile. One you think would rarely be captured on camera. God do you wanna take a picture and just stare at it. You shake your head at the thought. Teammate. He is your teammate and you are doing this for the team.

You learn that Bob was not lying when he said you’d obliterate him. You end up winning unsurprisingly, but decide to give him a little mercy.

“Alright, now that the practice round is done, you ready to actually play?”

“That was only the practice round?”

“Come on, now that you’ve got a taste you’re ready for it.”

“If you say so.” Bob starts to rack the balls as you retrieve drinks. A coke for him and a beer for you. You were still planning on driving home, so this was the only drink you were planning on having tonight. The key word there: planning.

Penny hands you your drinks and you maneuver your way back to Bob, only it wasn’t Bob leaning over the table and taking a shot. A large Hawaiian shirt was obstructing your view as he stood back up.

“Rooster.” He turns around victoriously after making his shot. Face falling into a smug smile.

“Mantis.”

“What are you doing?” “What’s it look like?”He returns to the table and takes another shot, “I’m beating Phoenix.” You look across the table and spot Phoenix giving you an apologetic smile. Bob at her side giving a similar look.

“No, I mean what are you doing at my table? Bob and I were in the middle of a game.” He misses his next shot allowing Phoenix to take hers. “Really Phoenix?”

“Bob said it was ok, you hadn’t started yours yet.” She defends. You look at Bob again and he walks over to you.

“Really it’s fine” he comments, “we can take turns.” You hand him his drink.

“Fine.” Rooster saddles up to your other side, resting his hands on the cue.

“Oh come on, did mommy never teach you to share?” Your grip around the neck of your bottle tightens as he smiles at his own joke. A couple laughs sound from around you, alerting to the fact Coyote and Hangman have shown up.

“Low blow dickwad.” You peer over his shoulder, “Phoenix, let us know when you’re done beating his ass.” With that you walk over to the wall of the bar and take a seat, setting the beer down on the table, rubbing the condensation from your hands on your jeans. Bob follows and sits next to you.

“I’m sorry.” Bob lets out, you glance over and notice the sullen expression on his face. Completely wiping Rooster’s last comment from your mind.

“It’s fine, you were just being nice. Rooster over there just knows how to get under my skin, and I thought he pushed you off our table.”

“Oh no, they asked nicely.” He reassures you. He follows your gaze to Rooster as you scowl. “What’s up with you and Rooster anyway?” You shake your head as he prepares himself to ask his next question, “Is he an ex?”

You nearly spit your drink out as your eyes widen in terror, “Oh god no! That’s disgusting.” Bob lets out a breath of relief. “No, he actually used to be like a brother to me.”

“What happened?” You look at him as you take a sip of your drink, not wanting to get Bob involved in your family life.

“That’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time”, your stomach clenches as you stare at his wide eyes, so earnest in everything he’s been saying. Now it’s his want to get to know you that has you shifting in your seat. Unaware of a set of eyes watching your entire interaction.

Phoenix’s whistle breaks your gazes away from each other as you walk over to the table.

“How’d you do Phoenix?”

“Not very good, Bradshaw here beat me.” You look at her in utter disappointment. “What can I say, he’s good.” You scoff as Bob starts to rack the balls. You stare at Rooster from across the table.

“He’s not as good as he likes to think.” You let Bob break and the game begins. Your attention focuses back to him as the rest of the squad linger around the edge. Your smile comes easy when you talk to Bob, almost completely forgetting about everyone else. So far he’s doing a lot better than he was in your practice round, but it’s still not good enough. You call your last shot before it falls in, smiling at Bob apologetically.

“There is no way he wasn’t letting you win”, you turn around and find Rooster waiting for his turn.

“Excuse me?”

“If my memory serves correctly, you were absolutely horrible the last time I played you.”

“The last time you played me I was like 12. I’ve had time to practice while you’ve been deteriorating.” That does it as he stands up and stalks toward you.

“You calling me old?” You stand toe to toe with him, not about to back down.

“Yeah I am, unless you’re up for a rematch old man?”

“You’re on.” The entire squad is staring at the both of you as Fanboy resets the table, delighted in what he’s about to see. “Say, since we don’t have to fly tomorrow, care to make this interesting?”

“What? Worried you’re gonna bore us all to death?”

“Nah, I just wanna see if you can hold your liquor as well as you can shoot. For every shot you miss, you take one. Dealer’s choice.” You squint at him, not willing to back down from the challenge.

“Fine, tequila. Loser pays.” You push your cue into Rooster’s hands as you turn to take Bob’s. “I am so sorry about this Bob, just let me beat him real quick and then we’ve got the table to ourselves.” He hesitantly gives up his cue.

“Are you sure about this?” You pat his shoulder.

“I’m gonna be fine.” He gives you a small smile and nod, relinquishing the little control he has of the situation.

The game begins as Rooster breaks, taking a shot provided by Payback as you take your turn. The game continues on, you only taking two shots while Rooster has three. He’s starting to slip up, making you more confident. You look up and smirk at Bob as a striped ball falls into the pocket across from him. You move to take your next shot as Rooster leans down next to you.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

“What do you mean? I’m here to pummel you.”

“I mean with Bob.” You turn your head to look at him, then to Bob before aligning your shot.

“What are you talking about?” You pull your stick back, before striking the cue ball he gets closer.

“I just thought I’d remind you that fraternization is strictly forbidden.” Your hand slips as your shot goes way off the course you intended. You look up at him as he stands. “Don’t wanna see you get kicked off this team.” He hands you a shot as you take it, your eyes closing. Your heart is beating erratically. There is no way he knows you like Bob. Not a chance in hell. You glance back at Bob as he gives you a thumbs-up, then back to Rooster’s concentrated face as he lines up his next shot.

The game continues to stay pretty even after that, shot after shot missed, the alcohol making it harder to stay accurate. You have one striped ball left on the table as Rooster attempts to end it all. Thinking this is gonna be it, you turn to Phoenix and in a whisper yell ask, “Do you think you could give me a ride later? I think I’m drunk!”. She smiles and pats your shoulder, whisper-yelling back.

“You’re lucky I knew this was gonna happen, of course I can!” Hearing Rooster and a couple others groan you turn around and notice he missed his shot. This was it, you make these last two and you win. You shut your eyes hard, attempting to get rid of some of the drunken haze.

The striped ball was a clean shot into the pocket and you let out a breath of relief. It was all down to this. Rooster is staring you down from his seat, making you a little nervous. You bend down and align your shot, taking one glance back up finding Bob. He gives you a crooked smile and you focus back on the table, “Left corner.” Everyone holds their breath as you draw back, hitting the cue, driving the 8 ball into your chosen pocket. Cheers erupt from around you as you place the cue back on the table. Your gaze meets Rooster again, this time it’s you with the smug smile, “Hope you learned your lesson grandpa!” A few oohs are heard as Bob walks over to you, holding his hands out for a couple high-fives.

“You’re amazing, that was awesome!” Everything around the table goes quiet. You continue to stare at him, attempting to say something but nothing coming out.

Something had changed. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the lighting, or maybe just Bob, but you realized every time you saw him your heart sped up a little and your stomach dropped. If you thought about it, this wasn’t even the first time this happened. This is just the first time you understood why. You were sure he could see it happen in real time. The way his eyes flicked down to your open mouth and back up to your glazed over expression.

“Are you ok?”he asks, concern drawing his features in. You could barely hear him through all the static ringing through your ears. You saw his mouth move and continue to stare at it through groggy eyes until you look upward. You were sure you and everything around you was moving in slow motion.

“What?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. His brow furrowed even more at your question.

“I asked if you were ok?” Oh no. He saw right through you. Jutting out your bottom lip and blinking wide you respond, trying to act as casual as ever.

“Yep. Everything is just great.” His eyes scan you once more. He steps toward you, obviously concerned, and as much as you want him to get closer, you turn to see Bradley’s eyes on you. Even through the haze, you can sense the suspicion in them. He didn’t actually know anything, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself. Still looking at Bradley, you barely make out Bob’s voice.

“Are you sure? You kinda had a lot to drink” You look back to him and nod, trying to give him a smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, you let out in a high pitched voice. You take a step back hoping to create some distance between the two of you, and before you can even fully set your foot on the spilled beer beneath your shoe, you feel yourself falling backwards. In a matter of seconds before you can reach the floor, Bob grabs one of your outreached arms, his other steadying you by your hip. He pulls you close to his chest as you regain your balance. A small squeal leaves your mouth as you’re left feeling Bob. His large hands on your bare arm, your hip, and his chest against yours. It’s almost too much. It is too much. Your heart rate has sped up from almost falling, but it is not coming down anytime soon. Your breath is starting to go shallow as you look up to Bob’s face, eyes blown wide on both of you. The contrast of everything moving too slowly to almost too fast has you dizzy. That or the fact you are close enough to Bob you can feel the heat emanating off of his skin, his scent infiltrating your senses. You need to breathe in the oxygen around you, but you only want to so you can keep breathing him in instead.

Everything surrounding the two of you ceases to exist. The beat from the jukebox fades into your and Bob’s heartbeats, beating simultaneously at their own pace. You don’t want to blink and miss a second of being this close to him. Who knows when you’d get another chance? Thinking this has sobered you up, you try to focus on his deep blue eyes. Have they always been this blue? If he allowed it, you could drown in those oceans he seems to hide behind those wire frames.

The dizziness is sneaking back in the longer you stare. Oh god. How long have you been staring? And more importantly how long has he been staring back? His eyes look between yours as you try to keep up. The motion makes your head spin even more. He swallows as your sight follows the bob of his Adam's apple, making you shiver. He opens his mouth once more.

“Are you alright?”, he breaks the spell he put you under. His voice is softer but just as deep as his grip continues to hold you upright. God, you can still feel his large hands on you. Your face is hot, you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or Bob. The ambience from the bar resumes around you, seemingly louder than it was before. You stare back at his eyes once more, trying to decide which of them to focus on. Oh no, that’s a bad idea. Your head rings as you lose focus on his face in front of you.

“I think I had too much to drink '', you manage to slip out. In an attempt to see if anyone had witnessed your drunken “fall”, your head lulls back and creates dark spots in your vision.

“Whoa, ok!” Bob’s grip tightens around your arm and hip as your legs start to give out. He glances around and finds an empty chair to set you in, walking you backwards until you fall unceremoniously in the sticky blue seat. Your eyes are drooping but a small smile remains on your face. He allows his hand to leave your hip, while the other remains on your arm. “Hey Mantis?”. You continue to stare through that drunk smile, eyes blinking at a slow rate. “Mantis?” He furrows his brow. And then he says your name. Not your call-sign. Not Mitchell. Your given first name. Without skipping a beat you pipe up.

“Yes Robert?”. You begin to giggle uncontrollably at your use of his name. Bob wasn’t going to lie to himself and say he didn’t want to hear you say his name again. He so desperately did, but right now you were drunk. And he needed to get you home safe. Still, he can’t help but smile at your child-like laughter, questioning the sudden switch from out of breath to laughing.

“Do you have a ride home?”

“Yep!” Bob waits for you to tell him who, giving up as you continue to stare at him with a dopey smile.

“Can you tell me who it is?” He asks slowly.

“Oh! It was Phoenix”.

“Really? Phoenix offered to be your DD?”

“Yeah”, you furrow your brows, your head falls back as you try to spot her, “but I haven’t been able to find her.” Bob, as if on instinct, jumps forward and braces his hand on the back of your neck to prevent you from hurting yourself. You rest the weight of your head in his hand, placing your complete trust in the fact he won’t let you go. He stares down at you as you look up at him. A small laugh slips through your lips. “Hi.” Bob once again can’t help but smile. For a moment he lets himself admire your soft features in the lighting of the Hard Deck. The warm lighting offers up how your smile causes the skin around your eyes to crease. It’s not forced by any means, just content. And he can’t help but believe you are. The cockroach is nowhere to be found as he looks down at you.

“Hi”, he gets out through his smile. He glances up from you and finds Phoenix still at the pool table with Rooster and Coyote. Farther away now that he has you at a table. He looks back down at you only to notice your gaze never tore away from him. “Are you gonna be ok if I go and grab Phoenix?”. Your eyes roll back as you sigh.

“I guess”, you let out dejectedly. Bob lets out a small laugh through his nose at the sight. His thumb moves of its own accord as he rubs the skin behind your ear.

“I’ll be right back, ok?”

“Promise?”, you ask, your smile falling ever so slightly.

“I promise”, he reassures you. “Can’t leave you too long or you might fall out of your seat. If you need me just holler, ok?”. The smile makes its way back to your face as he continues to caress your skin.

“Ok”, you say just loud enough for him to hear you.

“Ok”. Bob very gently repositions your chair for you to lay your head on the table behind you. It doesn’t look very comfortable but he knows this is the only way you won’t have your head hanging off the back of the seat. You continue to stare at him while he does this, and once he has you properly situated he gives you one last look before walking through the other patrons to get to Phoenix.

As he gets through a few more people to approach the pool table he sees Phoenix as she stands before Rooster with his head in his hands. Bob walks closer to her, hesitant to interrupt their conversation.

“Is everything ok over here?”. Phoenix immediately turns around, obviously taking a break from scolding Rooster.

“Yeah everything’s just great. Bird-brain over here just decided to enter a drinking contest without securing a ride so now I get to take two drunk idiots home.” She motions to Rooster over her shoulder with her thumb. Bob takes a second to look at him, noticing the green hue on his face. Bob’s mouth moves faster than his brain.

“I can take Mantis home.” Phoenix’s brow raises as Rooster looks up through his fingers.

“You will?”

“Yeah, it’s no problem. I’d feel bad leaving her with you, I’m the reason she came here tonight in the first place.” Bob peaks a glance down at his shoes to avoid the look Phoenix is pointing his way. “Plus, I don’t think Mantis would take too well to riding in the same car with- well with um, Rooster.” Bob looks to Rooster’s half-lidded gaze and back to Phoenix.

“You’ve got a good point there. Ok, so I’ll drag Rooster’s drunk ass back home and you sure you got Mantis? She can be kind of a handful when she drinks too much.” Before Bob is able to verify he’ll get you home safely, Rooster chuckles and pipes up.

“I’m sure Bob could handle a couple handfuls of Mantis’ drunk ass.” Bob’s eyes widen and his face immediately turns red at Rooster’s comment as Phoenix hits his shoulder.

“No! No, I would never get a handful of- of Mantis’ ass- especially if she was, if she was drunk.” He immediately cringes at his own choice of words while Rooster continues to laugh from his seat. Bob takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose, not able to meet anyone's line of sight. “What I mean is-”

“Bob”, Phoenix interjects, placing a hand on his shoulder, “it’s fine. We get what you mean, Rooster here is just an asshole.” She punctuates the sentence by hitting him once more.

“Ow”, he lets out, staring at Phoenix with genuinely hurt eyes.

“You’re fine, let’s get outta here before you ralph all over my car.”

“Ok mom.” Bob doesn’t watch as they walk away but hears Rooster cry out in pain once more.

With that all taken care of Bob shoots a text to his neighbor asking to let Sylvia out. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to get you home safely with enough time to take care of her. He makes his way back through the crowd to the table he left you at, but you aren’t there. Bob panics, searching around the bar frantically. There is no way you could have gotten far, especially not in your state. He practically runs to the bar in hopes of asking Penny if she saw where you got to, all while still scanning the room for you. He hears you before he sees you. Sitting at the bar, laughing while talking to Penny herself. He lets out a sigh of relief and allows himself to catch his breath. The scene reminds him of every time he’d see you sitting at that same bar, laughing with someone who wasn’t him. Always too afraid to approach you.

You turn your head and spot him standing there staring at you. Your mouth breaks out in a wide smile as you open your arms. “Ay! It’s Robert! You came back for me!” He walks over to where you sit as Penny wipes down glasses behind the bar. “Penny, he came back!” She smiles at your eagerness.

“I can see that.”

“How’d you get all the way over here?”Bob asks as you lower your hands.

“Well, Robert, like most people I used my feet.”

“Oh, did you now? Cause they didn’t seem to be working too well earlier.” You bob your head in a nod.

“It’s a miracle! I saw Penny like a guiding light and just had to come over to see her” you smile, amazed at yourself. Bob has really got to get you home.

“Well that’s great, I’m glad Penny was able to keep an eye on you. Are you ready to go?” You furrow your brows and look behind him.

“Where’s Phoenix?” You let out through pouty lips.

“Slight change of plan, Phoenix has to take Rooster home so if it’s ok I was gonna be your driver for the night.” You grimace at Rooster’s name, but immediately lighten up at the prospect of Bob taking you home.

“Ok!” Bob is taken aback at your eagerness, afraid you would have only wanted Phoenix to drive you.

“Really?”

“Yeah!” You immediately gasp and turn back toward Penny, “You cannot let my dad know a boy is taking me home!” Penny tries her best to hold back a smile as she looks to Bob who already is mortified at your implication. Penny takes both your hands in her own.

“My lips are sealed”, she mimes zipping and locking her mouth as she lets you go. “Get home safe you two.” Bob nods at her in appreciation as he turns to you.

“Think your legs are still working?” You scoff at him while sliding out from the chair. You get out successfully but as you take your first step you stumble. Bob immediately is behind you, supporting you with both of his arms underneath yours. “Ok, I’ll take that as a no.”

“Hey” you laugh, “they were working earlier!” Readjusting, Bob snakes his arm around your waist, grabbing your arm and throwing it over his shoulders. You immediately quiet as you sink into Bob, allowing him to guide you out of the bar and to his truck. Bob is being as respectful as he can, trying to keep his hand in the exact same spot on your waist. Never wandering. It’s only there to support you, but he can’t help but feel the warmth of you beneath his hand, and the aroma of your floral shampoo just under his nose.

Your hand has a surprisingly firm grip on his shoulder as you trek through the parking lot. The gravel and sand shuffling beneath your feet. It’s a slow journey, as Bob doesn’t want to risk you tripping and falling, but you finally make it. It’s a modest truck, not too big, not too small, but the step to get into it is massive compared to your skillset right now. You look up at the truck as if it’s Mt. Everest. “That’s a big step”, you let out. Your eyes meet the top as your head rolls back. You sway as Bob grips you just a bit tighter.

“Oh that step? Come on, you got this.” You look up at him skeptically. “Here, I’ll help you”. He very slowly turns you around so your back is to the seat and you’re staring up at him. He takes your hands and places them on his shoulders, they have never felt smaller before than they do now on top of him. “Is this ok?” he breathes out, aware of how close you are once again. You squeeze his shoulders, feeling the muscle tense from beneath his t-shirt.

You swallow, “Yeah.” He has got to stop putting himself in this situation.

“Ok, I’m gonna put my hands on your hips and when I say jump, you’re gonna jump and I’m gonna lift onto the seat. Ok?” You nod at him through wide eyes.

“Ok.” Bob finally slides his hands from off of your arms to your hips, squeezing once. Goosebumps break out all over your body, despite the heat radiating off of both of you. “Alright, 1, 2, 3, jump!” You do as he says as he grips your hips, lifting you off of the ground and into his truck. Leaving you more light-headed than you were before. He helps to push your legs into the cab, forcing you to face forward. He steps down and as softly as he can shuts the door, ensuring none of your limbs would get caught.

You watch him round the front as he opens his own door, climbing into his seat with ease. He reaches for his seatbelt before turning to you. “Do you need help with yours?”. You shake your head, reaching for your own. You pull it only for it to get stuck, you pull it again. Still stuck. Bob watches you struggle with it one more time before reaching over, letting it retract into the seat, and then pulling it over you, and buckling it in. The entire time you watch his large hand travel just slightly over your chest and torso, never actually touching you. You turn your face to his, and he looks up to you through his glasses.

“Thank you”, you whisper.

“You’re welcome”, he whispers back. He moves back into his own seat before putting on his seatbelt and starting the truck. The engine roaring to life breaks you out of your quiet trance. The radio starts to play as he pulls out of the parking lot. You can distantly hear him humming to the tune, but you lean your head and stare out the window.

You want to imagine a moment where you’re sober and Bob gives you all this attention, but you come up empty. He’s only doing this out of obligation to get you home safely. God you were so stupid for getting drunk. Tonight was supposed to be about getting to know Bob, not him having to take care of you.

“You doin’ ok over there?”, his voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Mhm”, you smile at him. Still not able to open your eyes quite all the way.

Bob watches as you lean your head against the window once again. He looks back to the road and realizes he’s almost got you home. He feels slight disappointment in his chest. He wants to spend more time with you, but probably knows you won’t want to again when you’re sober. He tries not to dwell on that fact, but hopes this won’t be the last time you end up in his truck. He hopes your perfume lingers after you’re gone so he can remember just how much fun he had with you tonight.

Bob pulls up to your house and puts the truck in park. You must have fallen asleep at some point on the drive because you jolt awake when the engine stops. “Are we here already?” You whine. He leans over and unbuckles your seatbelt.

“I’m afraid we are.” He rounds the truck, opening your door. You instinctively go to place your hands on his shoulders as he grasps your hips and slides you out of the cab. He steadies you again, in the same fashion he did when you left the Hard Deck, and walks you up the steps to the door. After fumbling with your keys you manage to open the door as he helps you walk in.

Bob’s plan was to let your dad take care of you and get you to bed safely, but he doesn’t notice any sign of life. All the lights are off as the both of you stop in the hallway. You grope the wall and let out an “aha” as you turn the light switch on. You wince at the bright light, moving your head to rest in between Bob’s shoulder and neck. He tries his best to slow his breathing as he feels your hot breath on his neck. You must feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest at this point. “Mantis?”

“Yeah”, you whisper into his neck. He shivers.

“Is your dad home?” You sigh, your breath tickling him.

“No, he had to grab some stuff from the desert and won’t be back ‘til Sunday.” Bob’s the one that sighs this time. That must be why he left early today. He reaches behind you two, locking the door. He didn’t like the idea of leaving you drunk and alone in the house, so after he gets you to bed he’s decided on staying on the couch. Just to make sure you’re ok. “Are we having a sleepover?”.

“Yep, we are having a sleepover and now it’s time you go to bed. Where’s your room?”

“Up the stairs to the left” you mumble. There is no way you’re going to be able to walk up the stairs, even with Bob’s help. Deciding it’s in both your best interests to not fall down a flight of stairs, he removes his hand from your waist and moves you to face him.

“If it’s alright with you, I’m gonna pick you up and carry you.” You stare at him with wide eyes and let out a laugh.

“I mean, you can try.” Bob braces his arms beneath your shoulders and knees, bending down and taking you with him as he stands to his full form. You let out a small yelp, surprised at his sudden display of strength. Your arms connect behind his neck as he begins to ascend the stairs. He keeps his eyes forward the entire time, not daring to look down at you and trip. You stare at his bicep straining from underneath his t-shirt, then the hand that grasps you at the knees. Your head is still resting on his shoulder. Bob makes you feel weightless as you lock your eyes on his mouth. His pretty mouth that is so close to your face right now. Even through your drunken haze you can tell he’s trying his best not to breathe too loudly, whether for your sake or his you’re not sure.

All too soon he arrives at your room and gingerly sets you down on your bed. Resting your head carefully on the pillows. He finally takes a glance at your face and then down at your clothes. “Do you have any pajamas you want to change into?” You nod and sit up, pointing to your dresser straight across from your bed. “Which drawer?” He rubs the back of his neck and avoids your gaze, “I don’t wanna see anything you don’t want me to.”

You laugh, “Second drawer from the bottom”. He points at it, checking with you that it was in fact the right one. You nod your head at him. You stare at his back while he leans down and rifles through your pajamas. The sight makes you dizzy, prompting you to lie back into the comfort of your bed once more.

Bob finds a pair of shorts and an old team t-shirt. Those will do. He walks back over to you with the clothes in hand and sets them down. “Do you need to go to the bathroom, brush your teeth?” You open your eyes at him and frown.

“Are you saying my breath smells bad?”.

“No!”Bob wasn’t not saying that. To be frank you smelled like a distillery, but that wasn’t the reason for his concern. “I just know that whenever I don’t brush my teeth I always wake up and feel gross. Don’t want that to happen now, do we?”. You shake your head, frown falling away. Slowly, you sit up and swing your feet over the bed. Bob grabs your arm and helps you walk to the bathroom connected to your room. Gently closing the door, he stays close by in case you fall. He glances at the bed and notices the pajamas he set out for you. Quickly making his way back to the bed he grabs them, knocking on the door as the water runs.

You open it with your toothbrush dangling out of your mouth, eyes half open. He holds the clothes out to you and smiles, “You forgot these.” Grabbing them you thank him, closing the door once more. With his back to you, Bob waits until he hears it open. You emerge in your pajamas, smiling.

“You’re still here.” Bob is immediately concerned at your surprise. Did you want him to leave? What is he talking about, of course you wanted him to leave. He rubs the back of his neck.

“Sorry about that, I just wanted to make sure you made it to your bed alright.” He holds out his arms once again and you grab onto them. This time he walks backwards until he reaches your bed, making sure you get under the covers. Bob wants to run his hand over the wild mess that is your hair, but he refrains.“Alright, ‘night Mantis.” He starts to make his way to leave your bedroom.

“Where you goin’?”, he hears through the muffle of your pillow. Turning to see you’ve shifted on your side, staring at him through one eye. “I thought we were having a sleepover?”

“We are, I’m just gonna crash on the couch.” You let out a huff.

“Sleepover means you gotta sleep in the same room”, drool is now starting to seep out of your mouth from its position on your pillow. Bob stares at you incredulously.

“Mantis”, he starts.

“Robeeerrrt” you whine. “You gotta make sure I don’t choke on my own throw up in my sleep.” He grimaces at the thought and slips his shoes off, walking over to steal a pillow to set on the floor.

“What are you doin’? Just get in the bed. I have some sweatpants that’ll fit you… I think.” Bob takes up the offer on your sweatpants, searching through the same drawer until he finds them. He turns his head ensuring you’re facing the other way as he changes.

“I’ll be just fine on the floor.” The pants are a little short on his legs but work better than the jeans he was wearing.

“If you’re stayin’ you’re sleepin’ in bed. That’s my final offer.” Through the lamplight he can make out the pout on your face. Staring at the floor and sighing he begrudgingly walks over to the side of the bed pulling back the covers and getting in. He turns over, taking his glasses off and turning the lamp off. Once he’s settled he can only stare at the ceiling as his arms lay clasped over his stomach. His entire body is tense, scared to move a muscle and accidentally touch you.

He can’t believe he’s in your bed right now. This is not how he imagined a sleepover with you going. Obviously you are very drunk and he remains respectful by sticking to his side, but you are lying right next to him. His heart beats at the thought of every time you touched him tonight. It was more than he could bear. Most of them were for stability but he couldn’t help but want it to happen as often as possible.

His thoughts are broken by the sound of the sheets rustling as you move closer to him and lay a hand on his chest. “”Night Bobby.”

He very carefully raises his own and rests it over yours. “Night Mantis.” He doesn’t want the morning to come. You’ll surely be too sick to remember anything, but he’ll remember it all. He shoos his thoughts away as your breaths guide him to sleep, your hand grounding him in this moment. His hand is clasped over yours, your palm right above his heart. Just where it should be.

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