#maybe with 'interviews' with them in the present day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kenyummy · 1 month ago

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✰ 04. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 04. fantastic four.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: had to wrack my brain to remember what math i was learning in seventh grade LMAO . sometimes i forget damian is just a little guy in like seventh to eighth grade. crazy. and please let me know if there's any mistakes with pronouns/gender!!! i want to keep this open to everybody so im always trying my best ❤️

also ive realised how chopped harry is in the comics after taking my rose coloured lenses off. basically he and mj have their look in the ultimate spiderman TV show (in my eyes anyway, i kind of just described their appearance based off tgat lmaooo)

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

School has never felt so bland for you. Sure, it was never your favourite thing in the world—except for maybe biology—but you'd think that discovering a whole new world in your last year would make it a little more interesting.

It didn't.

It's been three weeks since you crash landed here in Gotham. The most you'd gotten from your family was an awkward "how are you" occasionally, and a lot of staring.

You'd only shown yourself as Spidey a few times to the public, but never stayed for those pesky news reporters shoving their microphones into your face. You'd never liked interviews, anyway.

The only highlight of your long days were MJ and Harry. You'd gotten over the initial shock of Harry being in love with you—convincing yourself that it really wasn't you he liked; it was this world's original you. (Though—that fact still lingers in the back of your mind whenever you talk).

Apart from that, school truly was uneventful. Your kooky art teacher was the only one of whom you actually liked, and it seemed the education here was rather lax. Uncaring. Not good for your future, surely—but you wouldn't have a future here, and you're sure this [name] Wayne will be just fine.

Speaking of schooling—the people here really seemed to hate the Gotham Prep kids. More than what a petty rivalry should be—it was pure malice.

Harry was especially adamant about this.

"They're all dumb, entitled rich kids who use daddy's money to get whatever they want, you know." He stabs his fork into a dry cut of chicken violently. Then points, accusatory, at MJ—who already presents a sneer to him. "And don't you start lumping me in with them—you know I'm not like that."

Her face twists, but soon she grins cheekily. "Okay, fine. Yeah, you're totally not, otherwise nobody here would like you one bit. And who doesn't love Harry, huh?"

"Oh, be quiet," But still, he smiles—damn his head is big. He glances over at you. You're picking around at your soggy broccoli with a frown. "Hey, [name]. Don't two of your brothers go to Gotham Prep?"

You look up at your ginger friend, head tilted to the side before it clicked. Oh, right. Tim and that young boy—Damian, if you remember correctly. Tim barely ever went to school if your diary was still accurate, and Damian had little choice but to.

(Doesn't seem like he'd be the social butterfly type, though.)

"Yeah, they do." You nod, still fiddling around with that vegetable.

"Not that I'm not glad that you're here—but why don't you go to school with them?" MJ leans forward in her seat. "I mean, isn't it easier for siblings to go to the same school?"

Your eyes widen for a second.

There's a few ways you can go about this.

One—you tell them everything you know about your other self. About how you never felt included enough to ask. How you never spent time with them. How it always felt like everything and everyone else was more important than you. How you suffered silently—begging for their attention for years like a house pet becoming a stray.

Two—you could tell them you have absolutely no idea because you have none of your memories of anything from the past years of this life—how you don't even remember all your siblings names half the time.

Or three, and your personal favourite—you can just lie.

It doesn't take a serial genius to figure out which one you chose.

"I guess I just didn't like the rich private school vibe they had going on." A smile falls over your lips. "Plus—you guys were coming here, so it gave me even more of a reason to attend, you know?"

You're not entirely sure that's true. But—if these two were anything like the Harry and MJ you know—then this would probably be right.

Judging from their smiles, your detective skills haven't failed you yet.

"Man!" MJ lolls her head back, groaning. "Can't believe I'm friends with two rich kids who get to choose which school they want—the beat down public or sleek rich private."

"Don't go dissing this school just because you're jealous of their uniforms," Harry snickers, pressing his index finger into MJ's cheek. She huffs and slaps him away.

"Silence, nepo baby. Your dad is basically Lex Luthor if he wasn't bald."

Harry looks more confused than offended at her comment, "Okay, but my dad isn't an evil mastermind plotting against a red and blue suited superhero."

You press your lips together thinly and look to the side, eyes focused on anything but him. Oh, Harry—if only you knew.

Damian Wayne had never truly seen the point of highschool.

Raised by assassains all his life—he had little room, time, and desire to learn about all this nonsense. While he enjoyed arts and fine literature—he couldn't find it within himself to care about the American Revolution, or whatever other ridiculous thing happened in history.

His maths teacher was absolutely, indubitably pathetic. Always on his phone as he assigns mountains of homework (because he never bothers to explain the complex materials they're given) on the latest subject—whether it be those blasted simultaneous equations, or to factorise useless monic trinomials. Even calculating tax and interest on the stupidest of cases.

Damian found himself sitting in the corner of his class in silence, staring down, bored, at the book in front of him. He truly hated math. There's so much real work to be done—crime to fight, plotting organisations to take down.

But his father, as always, is unmoving in his conviction that school is important. For Damian especially, anyway; Drake can skip as often as he likes because he's a senior already. Truly, ridiculous.

For Damian, and—oh.

You.

Bruce always seemed especially insistent on you two going to school. Even when everyone but him knew you skipped every few days and simply come home to wait.

Wait for what? For them?

His brows furrow. Suddenly, the black and white equations on the sheet blur and he zones out. Thinking.

You always did. From the day he'd walked into the manor, you were always there. Unconsciously, he'd notice it. A trait of a good assassin is that they can spot everyone in the room.

A trait of a great assassin is that they can spot everyone inside and watching.

Always, you were watching. Those pitiful stares. Desperate like a unloved pet. If he cared a little more (if any at all), he would've felt sorrow for your state.

Always wanting, but never asking. Never taking. Simply waiting for it all to come to you. He would never understand it. He would never understand you.

He would never understand how somebody could allow themselves to be so weak.

Like everybody else—when he first entered the manor, he proposed to fight you. Assuming—being the child of his father, like he was—you were worthy. That you were strong.

He doesn't know how he could've been so wrong. You immediantly reacted, gasping and clutching your face. He'd nicked it with the edge of his blade after he unsheathed it. You looked at the blood dotting your fingertips, then back at him, eyes wide.

Immediantly, Bruce rushed to his side and pushed him behind his larger, imposing figure—telling you to not interact with him because he's different to regular people. Different to you.

He watched you storm off from behind his father's legs; anger practically blaring off your figure.

Later—he happened to overhear you and Grayson talking quietly. Telling you to not be too hard on Damian, because he's troubled. That he's had a difficult life. At first—he was a tad offended—but that offence could not compare to the absolute fury burning in your eyes.

Though, it all melted away when Grayson's hand ruffled your hair. Like a little kid, you stared up at him, soft and starry-eyed as you unconsciously murmured you'd forgive your new little brother.

Damian dry-heaved. You were so goddamn weak.

So weak, and so normal. Everything you did was completely regular. You were on the same wavelength as the civilians he saved from burning rubble. The same as people who walked down the street, talking about their favourite Justice League member. Who cowered in fear in front of villains—to be saved by those heroes. By him.

You were nothing, and yet everything he could never have been.

(What child does not long for normalcy?)

Damian always thought you were rather helpless, regardless of how regular you were—and seeing you with that bullet lodged in your shoulder—he was right. Not being able to dodge something like a bullet—there was no wonder you never become a vigilante. There was no wonder you needed to be protected.

... Though—he began to think back.

Who did? Protect you; that is.

Whoever it was, they did a pretty awful job at it.

Damian strums his fingers against the hardwood table rhythmically. Face blank but mind running rapidly.

It couldn't have been Todd. No—he seemed to be in a frazzled state of mania when carrying your bleeding body in your arms. Perhaps he too, believed you were safe with the rest of his family.

(Oh how wrong Todd was—he looked livid.)

... Grayson?

No. When he's not in Blüdhaven, he is almost always with the other vigilantes within the family. Not here nor there, and certainly not close enough to protect you.

Not Drake. He never cared enough, despite everything. Not Cain, either. Though the silent protector type—she had too much on her plate to worry about you as well.

Gordon and Brown had their own families to worry about.

And his—your father? The Batman? There was no time for a regular child like you in the Batman's life of vigilantism. Whom he sworn to protect in his crusade now lay bleeding out in his great failure's arms.

...

Did you truly have nobody?

...

Damian couldn't really imagine it. He'd always assumed you had many friends to fill the void that yoir family left with their civilian clothes. ... Perhaps you did. He wouldn't know.

You are his only half sibling. In this world, only he is truly your brother, and you are his only older sibling. Does that not give him the slightest of responsibility?

He'd always been taught to keep everybody at arms length—even his own family. The whole world is out to get the Demon's grandson, then he must fight it. But his father taught him differently.

To protect those who cannot protect themselves—to keep those he cares about safe at any cost.

What of you? He does not care for you in the way an ordinary sibling should. Seeing you so weak, defenceless against him—must mean you trust him in some way.

(It's hard for him to fathom being able to feel so unprotected in a world he was taught was trying to extinguish him at every turn).

Regardless of how you don't belong—or how frosty you act toward your youngest brother—he has a duty.

No matter how hard you try—you can never sever the blood you two share. The others do not have this duty—but he does, because in the end, you are his. None of the others bothered, so Damian must.

You are everything he could never be, he has realised. But in the end, you are blood. It runs thicker in the veins than any water, and that is one of the most important things to Damian.

Seeing that same blood—his blood—spill out of you carelessly—that is a sight he will never bear witness to again.

Damian was the first one out the door as soon as the bell chimed in his ear. His bag slung tightly around his shoulders and textbook under his arm; he rushed into the familiar sight of a sleek, large car.

He shuts the door as he climbs into the backseat (Bruce said he was still too short to sit in the front, much to his son's displeasure). "Hello, Pennyworth."

Alfred glances back at him through the rear view mirror. "Good afternoon, Master Damian. How was school?"

"Same as usual. A waste of time." He clicks his seatbelt shut as the car begins to move. Alfred only hums, keeping his eyes trained on the road.

"I'm unsurprised to hear you say so. I do hope you understand why exactly, you are enrolled in school, however. And why Master Bruce is so adamant about your attendance."

Damian knows. He's always known, because it has been drilled into his head like a mantra. Talia and Ra's Al Ghul weren't math teachers—and most of his time really was spent training and sparring to be the best he could be.

He was not illiterate, nor stupid. Rather smart, actually. However, he didn't exactly learn algebra and chemistry with the League of Assassins.

He grumbles. "I know, Pennyworth. Father cannot seem to stop reminding me that all these things are far more important than stopping the endless wave of crime in Gotham."

If he weren't on the road—Alfred surely would've given him a nasty look. "Master Damian, please—your sincerity is positively slaughtering me."

Damian rolls his eyes, opting to stop this fruitless conversation and look outside the windows instead. At the outside world—the sky already paling to deep auburn shades as they drive through the endless roads.

He watched all the cars moving past; hurrying to get to their destination. Each with their own story and reason for being there. Every single one with their own thoughts and worries. Some with children, others with pets, and some with piles of groceries.

All with their own, individual lives. Including him.

A bus, too. It stops for a moment at a sheltered space, then drives away, leaving a few people standing under the shade.

An elderly lady with a man, presumably her son, walking away with her. A woman with frizzy red hair and freckles dotted over her nose. A few schoolkids—some his age, some older. Clearly from the public school on the other side of Gotham, if only to judge from the scantily clad clothes some of the older students wore—

Wait, is that you?

He sits up—the car slowly coming to a stop at a red light. His eyes don't leave your figure as he presses his nose against the window; observing.

You look around at the people that pass by you—gripping your bag close to your side and rushing into the nearest alleyway.

He waits for a few moments. This red light feels rather long—but what feels longer is watching and waiting for you to come out of that alleyway.

You never do.

Even as the car begins to move once more, driving past the intersection, he crawls as far back as possible to even get a glimpse—but you never show.

Just today, he had decided to be the one to take up the mantle and protect you. Just today, during a boring math class, he has decided that since you are his blood, he must keep a helpless civilian like you safe.

And now you're gone. Are you dead, or something?

(Deep down, his stomach twists at the thought.)

"Pennyworth, pull over." Hid voice is more taut than he had imagined. "Now."

Alfred looks back, glancing at the streets around. He doesn't question the young boy, simply doing as he is asked and pulling over to a deserted parking area.

When he has parked the car, he turns around and sees Damian slipping his Robin mask on—somehow already fully suited up.

His eyes widen, "Master Damian, what—"

"I have something to do. Let Father know I will be back home late."

Opening the door, Damian rushes out and pulls out his grappling hook, swinging onto the nearest building's roof and looking around.

He spots the alleyway you'd run into. It is still. Absolutely no movement nor any looks from passer-bys. He rushes across the roves towards where the dark side seeped into the crack of the buildings.

Maybe you'd taken another way out?

But looking at the alleyway now, it's more like a dip between the buildings to stand in more than anything. It was blocked off on the other side.

So where...???

He drops down, landing on his soles and squinting as he stares around into the dark. There's nothing.

No people, nor bodies, and certainly not anything to indicate anybody was ever here.

Except...

He glances at the wall. Theres a white cocoon-esque oval webbed to the wall. Those same webs he'd seen all that time ago—from that spider. That would show up then leave immediantly. Never staying for longer than they had to.

Dodging all of his and Batman's attempts at asking who you were, and what you were doing in Gotham. Always swinging away into the distance before they could be subdued.

Now, he stares at their ball of webbing and wonders if it truly is an arachnid he's dealing with.

He pokes it, looking it up and down. Then, he sees it. Through the small holes in the webs and the translucent, silk-like material—he finally sees it.

Your bag.

He tears off the webbing faster than he can think, getting the sticky substance stuck to his gloves and clothes; he barely even notices it. He grabs your bag and stares it, swallowing hard.

His mind buzzes with an unfamiliar staticky feeling and he suddenly feels sick to his stomach. Despite all the noise in his ear—his brain is able to comprehend one singular question.

... What did that arachnid do to you?

Clothed fingers digging deep into the leather fabric of the bag—clearly worn down and fading. Old. He would get Father to purchase you another. ... When he sees you next. Because he will.

His jaw clenches hard.

Damian throws the bag over his shoulder and grapples up—swinging onto a building roof and running across.

Running for what, he isn't sure. But what he is sure of, is that once he gets his hands on that arachnid, it will not be kind.

To find out what happened to you—that is his duty as your blood sibling.

He decides that in this life, he will be your protector. In the next, if he is ever given a chance to be normal like you—he will become a doctor. Or perhaps a painter. Or a poet. Maybe he will ask you to help him decide when he finds you and that arachnid.

... Yes, that sounds good.

You cut through the cool wind as you swing through the city. Grinning widely underneath your mask—you don't think you've ever been so happy since you landed here.

You're sure nobody will take your stuff. Even if they do, you could always just get whatever else you needed again. You were far too excited to dwell on the small stuff right about now.

Landing on a rooftop, crouched—you walk down the wall of the apartment complex, and look around for civilians. As he told you—the streets around the back of the building were practically deserted.

You count the amount of rooms from the side, up and down.

"Row 5, Apartment block... 2..." You hum, and nod to yourself.

You tap your necklace and the nanobots all crawl off your body, leaving you in your regular clothes. You land safely on the balcony of the room you were given.

You smooth out your flared jeans and take in a deep breath. Then, you bring up your knuckles, and knock.

The glass screen door opens before you can say fantastic.

A small pair of arms wrap around your torso and knock you backwards—you fall on your ass and let out a loud laugh.

"Spidey!!! [name]!!!"

"Is that who I think it is?!" You tease, eyes squinted upwards and the young kid buries into your stomach. His giggles are muffled by the fabric and he squeezes you so tight you'd be inclined to choke—if it wasn't you. "Frankie!! How's my favourite Richard?"

"I can't believe you'd say that, [name]. That hurts." A familiarly sweet voice speaks.

"Sue!" You grin, taking in the sight of the blonde and her husband by her side. You get up—Franklin stumbles behind you—and crash into her arms.

She chuckles, patting your back and smiling down at you, "I missed you too, [name]. You always manage to find yourself in the strangest situations, don't you?"

Reed cradles his chin, "Well, we were technically the cause of this distortion in reality, Susan—"

But seeing the expression on both your and his wife's face; he stops himself. Only smiling sheepishly. "My apologies. It's great to see you again, [name]. I didn't think we'd find another familiar face in a different universe."

"You're getting better at this, Reed." You lift yourself from Sue's comforting cradle and grin brightly up at him. "I didn't think I'd see all of you guys again, either. When you all disappeared for so long—I was wondering if something bad happened."

"Hah! Ta us? You kiddin'? Ya more bug-brained 'den that spider that bit ya!"

"Ben!!!" You go flying toward the rock-encased man and wrap your arms around his comfortingly tough neck. He spins you around and lets you down with a loud laugh.

"'Ey kid, how're ya? Heard ya tackled ol' matchstick 'ere outta the sky!" He slaps his rocky chest laughing—in the corner of your eye, Johnny stands behind him, unimpressed.

He walks up beside you, swinging an arm around your neck and snarks, "Yeah—well, Spidey's always been known for catching people off guard, huh? Creepin' up when you least expect it."

"You're making [name] sound like a villain, Unc!" Frankin, who had found himself attached to the side of your shirt, sticks out his tongue.

Johnny recoils, face falling in pure horror as he dramatically points at the young boy, "UNC??!! I... I'm an Unc now...??? I'm not even 19! I can't be an Unc!!!"

You burst out into laughter at the genuineness of Johnny's expression, watching as he freaks out about being "old". Sue and Reed roll their eyes—while Ben is there with you, laughing his ass off like he'd just gotten a home run on Yancy Street.

Franklin looks at your laughing expression and starts giggling along—jumping up and down beside you with sparkling eyes.

"Stop laughing, [name]! We're the same age!" Johnny points, accusatory. "If I'm an Unc, you're a...!"

"Doesn't matter. I'm cooler than Uncle Johnny anyways, right Frankie?" You grin, picking up Franklin as he cuddles into your neck.

"Mhm!" He nods eagerly.

Johnny sends you a blazing glare, lips pouted out. "You and me. We're—" He gestures to the two of you. "—gonna have some issues, here. Okay. Everyone knows I'm the cool Uncle."

"No, that's Benny!" Franklin points to Ben.

The look on Johnny's face shifts into utter disbelief—Ben falls out of his chair laughing wildly.

"Gosh, I missed you so much, kid." You pull at one of Franklin's cheeks and chuckle. He stares at you in awe for a few seconds, before hugging the side of your head and giggling.

"I missed you too!"

That same warmth fills each crevice and pore of your body, as you huddle close to your dear friends and let yourself feel at home for this small moment.

Meanwhile, in the dark of night, a pair of azure eyes watches, sharp and unnerving in the back of your skull.

You notice it. Of course you do. Your mind is tingling with that buzz—but you want to enjoy this night of nothing but home, even if only once.

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coralaura · 2 months ago

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Primadonna

"You say that I'm kinda difficult”

Your father was never a present figure; sometimes, he would see you, give you a pat on the head, and disappear into the darkness of the mansion.

In reality, he vanished for the entire day, especially when the sun set, and the moon greeted the sky. Like all the other inhabitants of the mansion, nighttime was when you were left alone and could wander without anyone noticing or caring.

Every now and then, you’d see Alfred, but he, too, would soon disappear. It didn’t bother you; in fact, it gave you free time, allowing you to take late modeling jobs without anyone asking the typical questions: “Why are you coming home so late?” or “What were you doing outside so late?”

Sometimes, you went out with friends (if you could call them that people you used and who defended you when someone doubted your innocence). Rarely, you stayed in the enormous mansion, but honestly, you didn’t care where you were.

And it wasn’t like they cared about what you did or where you were, so maybe that’s why you didn’t care when Dick left the mansion. When Jason arrived—his unwanted presence and lack of manners—it was annoying, especially when he dared to compare his mother to yours. How dare he compare the two?! Despite that insult, spoken right to your face, you simply smiled. But inside, you were about to beat him senseless, to put that fool in his place for comparing your beloved mother to his and when he died, you cried at the funeral, pretending to be in pain, mourning the loss of a life.

But deep down, you felt nothing for him. Sure, his death was gruesome and ruthless, but it wasn’t like you felt anything beyond antipathy for the poor devil in the coffin. When Tim arrived at the mansion, you couldn’t have cared less. After all, you would only see him for a few weeks before heading off to university, so your interactions were minimal, barely enough to count on one hand.

Alfred saw you off with a smile, though there was a hint of sadness in it. He didn’t try to stop you or convince you not to move out; in fact, he encouraged you to pursue your career, as long as you sent some sign of life a letter or a text message. But let’s be honest, student life was expensive, and as a model, you made little money for just a few hours of work. So, when you had to choose between your studies and a full-time modeling career, the choice was obvious you went with the long-term option and pursued your modeling career. No one was supposed to know. You’d write to Alfred, telling him you were still studying, just to keep him from worrying.

In reality, you could have been in Metropolis, about to step into a photoshoot. But of course, things couldn’t stay perfect forever. Some idiot spotted you and then compared you to Bruce Wayne. And for the first time in years, people seemed to have more than two brain cells because the question immediately popped up all over the internet:

"Is it just me, or do Bruce Wayne and Y/N look alike?"

And unfortunately, they attached your image right next to that billionaire’s. To say that the media explosion and the interview requests for both you and Bruce were the worst possible thing that could happen was an understatement. As headlines and news reports flooded in, you bit your nails in frustration, enraged by your inability to control the situation.

So, when they asked about your parents or if you were a poor orphan, you responded with a warm smile—though deep inside, you were disgusted that you couldn’t just avoid answering or shut those nosy reporters down.

"I have no parents."

Most people, moved by your kind smile and the false tears welling in your eyes, dropped the subject and moved on with their lives. But the press always loved fresh, juicy gossip, especially when it involved Bruce Wayne.

Since your father didn’t comment or give an interview, part of you assumed he either didn’t care or considered it a minor issue his PR team could handle. For a moment, you thought you had dodged this problem. Until you saw him in the middle of a photoshoot—waiting for you to finish so he could talk to you. And, of course, right behind him was his family… or rather, his walking orphanage.

Alfred believed in you. He loved you like a father loves his child. You were practically the normal kid he had always wished Bruce could be so sweet, so innocent. But when he saw your face in the morning paper, next to your father’s, with the full story laid out, for the first time… he felt disappointed in you.

Why would you hide something like this?

Did you not trust him?...

It hurt him, but deep down, he knew you must have had a reason for keeping your modeling career a secret. Maybe his thoughts consumed him for too long because Damian’s voice pulled him back to reality.

“What are you reading, Pennyworth?"

“It seems the press has discovered the connection between Master Bruce and Master Y/N.”

Damian frowned in confusion. He had never heard of you. Taking the newspaper from Alfred’s hands, he scanned the headline and the full story, noting your features and how similar you looked to his father. The picture they used of you was… bold, striking. He wondered if you were really family, but Alfred had called you "Master Y/N," so you must have been. Damian didn’t waste time.

He stormed to his father, slamming the newspaper onto his desk, demanding answers. Bruce raised an eyebrow at his behavior until he read the headline and saw your picture. The only thing Bruce thought in that moment was how much you had grown.

How tall were you now?

He picked up the paper, reading the article, noticing how you denied any connection to him or his family. He didn’t understand.

Had he done something to make you reject him?

Thinking about it left a bitter taste in his mouth. The more he read, the more that bitterness spread.

“Who are them, Father?”

Finally, Damian asked. The answer was simple yet so complicated. You were his child, his firstborn, and yet he had no idea how to be a proper father. He had never seen you in the mansion, maybe because he never had time, maybe because he felt guilty, knowing he could never raise a normal child. He could only raise someone to become a vigilante.

"They are your siblings."

And that was the beginning of the end of your modeling career. Because, in the end, it was only natural for your father to crave control, both as Bruce and as Batman. It was something you had inherited from him.

When you saw your father there, standing in the middle of your shoot, clearly annoyed that you had noticed him and yet continued with your session, you knew he would eventually step in. Still, you wanted to push his patience, to see how long he could endure before leaving. But you hadn’t counted on your manager asking you to stop the session to talk to him instead. You sighed. He was just doing his job, though a part of you couldn’t help but glare at him, hating that he was wasting your time.

"What is it, Ethan?"

You didn’t even acknowledge Bruce. Instead, you spoke to your manager, Ethan, who forced a tense smile, silently begging you to be respectful.

"Bruce Wayne is here to see you."

He emphasized the last name, almost as if reminding you of your place beneath the great Wayne name. Not that he knew the truth, that Bruce’s blood ran through your veins and that your striking resemblance was nothing but shared genetics.

"Mr. Wayne, Mr. Grayson, and company, what brings you here?"

You didn’t bother greeting them. You recognized a few faces, but most were either forgotten or simply unknown to you. And honestly, you didn’t care.

"Y/N, we need to talk."

Your father's deep voice and condescending gaze turned to you, hating that he spoke to you that way, as if you were a child, when in reality you were more than him, more than any of them, you were Y/N, the person that everyone would pay for because at some point you would look at them or simply greet them, there were people who would kill for a simple touch from you.You hid your displeasure in the mask that you always wore on your face that was difficult to remove, the one that had buried itself in your face and had taken root until you simply couldn't get it off, at least not until you were alone and no one could see your true and unpleasant personality that eclipsed your cute face and false golden boy personality.

You thought about the possibility of being rude to them, after all it's not like they could prove that you were something of theirs, you still had your mother's last name and they had never seen you with the Waynes until now, besides, who could blame you? Being rude was your privilege for being a model and also being attractive, it would be your first time being rude to someone, besides, everyone knew you, you were so kind that the ones who would end up being reproached for things would be the Waynes, so you decided.

“I don’t want to and if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do”

For the first time, your father stopped looking at you with that condescending look and in its place there was something you couldn’t identify. Anger? Indignation? Frustration? Surprise? You didn’t know and honestly you didn’t care, you were surely the first or at least one of the few people who says no to your father’s face and in front of so many people, that thought made you smile to yourself, it was the satisfaction and pride of making that cold expression of your father go away.

“But it's always someone else's fault”

#yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam

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literaryvein-reblogs · 4 months ago

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How to Describe Clothing in Writing

Creating vivid descriptions for a story or character is a mark of a great writer. One specific form of descriptive writing that particularly affects setting and characterization is the portrayal of characters’ clothing.

Writing Tips: Describing Clothes

Clothing descriptions work best when they appear organically in the course of the narrative. The story should never halt in place so that you can shoehorn in a bunch of sartorial descriptions. Here are some writing tips to help you use clothing descriptions in your creative writing:

Integrate clothing into your initial character description. The first time readers meet a character, they should get a sense of how they dress.

Study articles of clothing to make sure you know what they look like. This will help you choose the right words to describe them. For example, it would be appropriate to describe a chiffon dress as “sheer” or “thin,” but it would be clumsy to describe it as “threadbare” because chiffon is not cheap.

Pick outfits that fit the setting you’re writing about. If you’re describing an elegant ball, you might want to place a character in a form-fitting strapless evening gown, as this is a common piece for formal dances. Describing the clothing reinforces the setting you’ve chosen.

Blend clothing into job descriptions. If you’re describing a monk at work, you could note how the loose-fitting sleeves of his frock draped onto a table. If you’re describing a superhero in an action scene, describe the flow of their cape or the stiffness of their boots.

Let your characters change outfits. Show a character arc by marking how a character’s clothing changes over the course of your story. If a character in a YA novel starts out wearing ill-fitting khaki slacks with enormous pleats and ends that same novel wearing a denim jacket with an “anarchy” pin on the lapel, we know they’ve undergone some major changes.

Use clothing to set characters apart. Represent the difference between two characters by describing the differences in their clothing. Let’s say you’re describing two characters interviewing for the same job: One wears a sporty, ruched, A-line dress, and the other wears jeans and a sweatshirt. The reader can infer aspects of both characters’ personalities and make a comparison between two characters.

Reasons to Describe a Character’s Clothing

A character’s clothing is a window into so many aspects of their lives. From a character’s clothes, readers can make inferences about the following:

Clothing reveals a character’s personality. A knee-length fur coat and a corduroy jacket are both forms of outerwear, but it’s quite unlikely they’d be worn by the same kind of person. Readers can deduce a character’s style and personality from the clothes they wear.

Clothing implies a character’s wealth. Is your novel’s main character comes from a working-class background, it’s more likely they’d wear a t-shirt and jeans than a lavish and expensive piece of clothing. Just as in real life, clothing indicates status and wealth.

Clothing shows a character’s point of view toward the world. Clothing can reveal a character’s views on the world. If someone puts on a graphic t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, it implies that they could hardly care less about offending other people. Meanwhile, a character who wears a dressy button-down shirt with a single-breasted plaid jacket seems like the old-fashioned type. Maybe they’re heading to a mixer at the country club?

Clothing suggests the time and place in which a character exists. As part of your worldbuilding process, you’ll want to be as precise as possible about your book’s setting and time period. This doesn’t just apply to historical fiction; it applies to all forms of writing. For instance, if you’re writing a battle scene set during the Revolutionary War, you might need to study the physical descriptions of britches and pantaloons. But if your scene is set in a present-day battlefield, you might describe a soldier as wearing camouflage with a tag hung from a necklace. Simply by changing the clothing description, you’ve marked a massive distinction between these two war stories.

Source ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs ⚜ References: Fashion

#description #clothes #writing notes #fashion #writeblr #literature #writers on tumblr #dark academia #writing reference #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #writing tips #writing advice #on writing #writing inspiration #writing ideas #alfred stevens #writing resources

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4linos · 25 days ago

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fractured silence 2.

yang jeongin x idol!reader

synopsis: when your pregnancy complicates your secret relationship, the emotional distance between you and your boyfriend grows, leaving you unsure of where you stand and what the future holds.

warnings: pregnancy, angst, hurt/comfort, miscommunication.

wc: 9747

[fractured silence part 1, fractured silence part 3]

The morning light filtered through the windows of the makeup room, casting a soft glow on your reflection as a stylist carefully applied foundation to your skin. But despite the gentle hum of conversation between staff members and the usual pre-interview preparations, your mind was stuck on the night before.

Jeongin’s words still echoed in your head, playing on an endless loop.

You’re being really annoying lately.

Just leave me alone for a bit.

You don’t need to keep asking about everything.

No matter how many times you tried to push them away, the weight of his frustration sat heavily on your chest. The way he had snapped at you, the sudden shift in his behavior, it didn’t make sense.

He had been so sweet, so supportive. He had promised to stand by your side. But now?

Now, he was shutting you out, and you didn’t understand why.

You wanted to call him again, to demand an explanation, to ask if he really meant what he said. But a part of you was scared of the answer.

What if he did mean it?

What if he was regretting everything?

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the present. You had a long day ahead, interviews, schedules, promotions. You couldn’t let yourself break down right now.

You could deal with Jeongin later.

But then, your manager, Jinhee walked in.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” she said, her voice neutral, but something about the way she looked at you made your stomach twist.

You barely hesitated before nodding, carefully getting up from the chair. “Of course.”

You excused yourself from the stylists, smoothing down your outfit as you followed Jinhee out of the room and down the hall.

She didn’t speak right away, just kept walking, and with every silent second, the tension in your body grew.

She led you into an empty practice room, the door clicking shut behind you. The room was dim, the large mirrors reflecting your nervous expression as you turned to face her.

And then, she finally spoke.

“Is it true?”

Your breath hitched.

She didn’t need to clarify. You knew exactly what she was asking.

Your stomach dropped.

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. You couldn’t lie, not to her. But you also didn’t know how to answer.

“I—” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, but she cut you off with a sigh.

“Just tell me the truth.”

She wasn’t angry. That was what scared you the most. If she had come in screaming, furious, maybe it would have been easier to handle. But the disappointment in her eyes, the quiet weight in her tone, it felt so much worse.

You swallowed hard, feeling your body go rigid. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, and suddenly, the room felt too small.

How did she know?

You had been so careful. You had only told the people you trusted the most your members, and Jeongin.

So how?

Your silence must have been answer enough because Jinhee, sighed again, crossing her arms.

“The company knows.”

The words hit you like a freight train.

Your hands clenched at your sides. “What?”

“JYP reached out to us,” she explained, her voice still calm but firm. “They said they received the information and wanted to confirm it with HYBE. I don’t know who told them, but someone did.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Someone… told them?

Your mind raced, grasping for answers, but there was only one name flashing in your head, one person who had been acting off ever since he told you he had spoken to Chan.

Jeongin.

You felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath you.

Had he told them?

No, that didn’t make sense. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Right?

Your pulse quickened as you struggled to breathe, to think, to make sense of it all.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice shaky.

Jinhee studied you carefully. “Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen yet. But I wanted to warn you before things get worse. HYBE is upset, JYP even more so. You need to be prepared.”

Prepared?

For what?

For the company to scold you? To make you hide even more? To tell you what you already knew that you had just risked everything you worked for?

Your hands trembled, and you clenched them into fists to steady yourself.

Jinhee took a step closer, her voice softening. “Are you okay?”

You wanted to say yes.

You wanted to say that you had everything under control, that you were handling it, that you weren’t standing on the verge of breaking.

But you couldn’t.

Because at that moment, it felt like everything was falling apart.

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t ready to tell them yet.”

Jinhee’s expression remained calm, but there was something almost pitying in her eyes. “I know,” she said gently. “But the reality is, they already know. And I don’t know when or how this is going to unfold.”

Her words sent a fresh wave of panic crashing over you.

This wasn’t supposed to happen yet.

You had been preparing yourself, trying to gather the courage to tell the company when the time felt right. When you had a plan. When you and Jeongin figured things out. But now, it was out of your hands.

You bit your lip hard to stop the tears from forming, inhaling sharply as you fought against the lump in your throat.

Jinhee sighed, her tone softer now. “I’ll try to find out more. Who reported it, what the company plans to do, but for now, just focus on today’s schedules. Alright?”

You nodded stiffly, even though you knew, deep down you wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else. This was going to cloud your mind for the rest of the day, no matter how hard you tried to push it down.

With a weak “thank you,” you turned on your heel and left the practice room, your mind racing as you made your way back to the makeup room.

The moment you stepped inside, the other girls turned to you, their faces filled with quiet concern.

Jinae gave you a soft smile. “Everything okay?”

You forced a smile back, even though your chest felt tight. “Yeah. Just… manager stuff.”

They didn’t push, but you could tell they knew something was wrong. You could see it in the way Chae watched you closely, in how Minsu subtly reached out and gave your arm a reassuring squeeze. They weren’t fooled, but they weren’t going to force you to talk.

You appreciated that.

Taking a deep breath, you reached into your bag, fingers scrambling as you searched for your phone. Your hands were trembling slightly, but you ignored it.

You needed to talk to Jeongin.

You needed to hear him tell you that this was a mistake that your company somehow got the information wrong. That he hadn’t done this. That someone else had leaked it.

You tugged your phone out and barely mumbled a rushed “I’ll be right back” before slipping out of the room again.

Your heart was pounding as you rushed down the hall, gripping your phone tightly as you dialed his number.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Four.

He wasn’t answering.

You pressed your back against the cool wall, closing your eyes briefly as the call continued ringing.

Pick up. Please.

On the very last ring, just when you thought it would go to voicemail, the call connected.

Jeongin’s voice came through, but it wasn’t the warm, concerned tone you were used to.

It was irritated. Bothered.

“What is it?” he asked, exhaling heavily like he had just been interrupted from something important.

Your stomach twisted, but you pushed past the hurt.

“They know.”

There was a long pause.

Too long.

You could hear your own heartbeat in the silence.

Then, barely above a whisper, you asked the question you were dreading.

“…Did you tell them?”

More silence.

And then before he could even say anything, he sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

Your breath hitched.

That was all the confirmation you needed.

Your grip on your phone tightened as you stared blankly at the tiled floor, your entire body going rigid.

“Why?” Your voice came out shaky, raw. “Why would you do that?”

Jeongin exhaled again, but it wasn’t frustrated this time. It was tired.

“Because—” He hesitated. “Because they were going to find out eventually.”

You blinked rapidly, your vision blurring. “So what? You decided to throw me under the bus first? Were you..were you trying to save yourself?”

Jeongin’s breath hitched at your accusation. “No—”

“Then why?” you asked again, your voice cracking. “Why would you go behind my back like this? We were supposed to handle this together.”

“I was handling it,” he argued, but there was something defensive in his tone. “I told Chan. And he—he lost it. He said this could ruin everything. He was scared, and I—” He cut himself off, like he didn’t know how to explain. “I thought if I told them first, it would be better than them finding out through rumors or scandals.”

You let out a bitter laugh, one that held no amusement. “Better?”

Jeongin didn’t answer.

You wiped at your face harshly, even though the tears hadn’t fallen yet. Your chest ached, your throat felt tight, and suddenly, you felt so small.

So alone.

“You promised me,” you whispered. “You promised you’d stand by me.”

“I am—”

“No, Jeongin,” you cut him off. “You’re not.”

Another silence.

The longer it stretched, the more your heart shattered.

You waited, waited for him to say something, to tell you that he was still here, that he hadn’t just broken the trust you had in him.

But nothing came.

And suddenly, the weight of everything, the pregnancy, the company knowing, the overwhelming sense of betrayal became too much.

You couldn’t do this. Not right now.

You swallowed down the sob threatening to escape and exhaled shakily. “I have to go.”

Jeongin must have heard the shift in your tone because his voice softened immediately. “Wait—”

But you didn’t wait.

You hung up before he could say another word.

And this time, you didn’t call back.

The moment you hung up, your phone lit up again, Jeongin’s name flashing across the screen.

He was calling you back.

You clenched your jaw, gripping the phone so tightly your knuckles turned white. You weren’t ready to hear whatever excuses he had. You didn’t want to listen to his apologies, not when the damage had already been done.

Before you could second-guess yourself, you pressed down on his contact, tapped Block Number, and shoved your phone back into your bag.

You didn’t want to cry. Not now. Not here.

But the weight of everything pressed down on you, threatening to crush you. You were upset with Jeongin, for going behind your back, for making such a huge decision without you. But you were also upset with yourself, for trusting him so blindly, for believing he would never do something like this.

And, most of all, you were upset at the situation itself.

If you weren’t an idol, would things be different? Would you and Jeongin be able to celebrate this pregnancy instead of hiding it in fear? Instead of worrying about your careers, your fans, your companies?

Would he have told you first? Would he have stood by you like he promised?

You swallowed back the lump in your throat and forced your feet to move, step after step, back toward the makeup room.

You had to keep it together.

The moment you walked in, the makeup artists called you over for touch-ups, their chatter filling the room. You sat down in your chair, trying to school your expression into something neutral, something presentable. But your hands were still trembling in your lap.

Jinae, who was seated in the chair next to you, noticed immediately. She turned to face you, her expression careful but concerned.

“Okay,” she said softly, just loud enough for you to hear. “What’s going on?”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell her it was nothing, that you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come.

Because you weren’t fine.

You were barely holding yourself together.

Jinae saw the hesitation in your eyes and reached over, placing a gentle hand on your arm. She didn’t push, didn’t demand answers, just let you know she was there.

You let out a shaky breath, but before you could even begin to explain, Jinhee walked in.

She scanned the room before her eyes landed on you. “It’s time. Let’s go.”

You forced yourself to nod, swallowing down the emotions threatening to spill over.

As you stood up, Jinae did too, falling into step beside you as you followed Jinhee down the hallway. The quiet hum of conversation from other staff members, the distant sounds of rehearsals from different rooms, it all felt muted compared to the storm raging inside your head.

And then, finally, you found your voice.

Still staring straight ahead, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “Jeongin told JYP.”

Jinae froze mid-step, her head snapping toward you. “What?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “They know. HYBE knows. Jinhee just told me.”

Jinae’s expression darkened, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

“He told them?” she repeated, anger lacing her voice.

You nodded again, your throat tightening. “Without telling me first.”

Jinae let out a slow, controlled breath through her nose. You could tell she was trying to keep her emotions in check, but the way her jaw tensed, the way her eyes flashed with barely-contained fury, it was clear she was pissed.

“How could he do that?” she muttered under her breath.

You didn’t have an answer.

You had asked yourself the same question over and over since you hung up on him.

The worst part was you wanted to understand. You wanted to believe that he had done it for a reason, that he wasn’t just thinking about himself.

But right now?

All you could feel was betrayal.

Jinae clenched her jaw, shaking her head. “He should’ve told you first. He should’ve talked to you before running to his company.”

You exhaled shakily. “I know.”

Jinae looked like she wanted to say more, to do more, but she held back. Instead, she just reached over, giving your hand a quick, reassuring squeeze.

“We’ll figure this out,” she murmured. “Together.”

You nodded, even though the fear in your chest hadn’t lessened.

Because now, the secret was out.

And you had no idea what would happen next.

You forced yourself to smile, to laugh, to nod along to every question thrown your way during the interviews. You kept your posture straight, your voice steady, and your expressions perfect.

Like nothing was wrong.

Like you weren’t falling apart inside.

Jinae, Minsu, and Chae played along, keeping the energy high, subtly guiding the conversation whenever they noticed you slipping. They had your back.

And finally, finally the interviews ended.

As soon as the cameras shut off and the lights dimmed, you let out a quiet breath, exhaustion settling deep into your bones. You just wanted to go home. To crawl into bed and shut everything out.

Back in the dressing room, you changed into your regular clothes, tugging on your hoodie in an attempt to disappear into yourself. The girls were still chatting softly amongst themselves, Minsu occasionally glancing your way with concern.

You knew they wanted to talk, to ask if you were okay, but before they could

The door opened.

Jinhee, stepped in, followed by a man who immediately made the room go silent.

Jun.

Everyone knew Jun.

He was one of the higher-ups at HYBE, one of the kinder ones. He wasn’t the type to belittle idols, wasn’t unnecessarily cruel, but he was serious about his job. If he was here, now, looking this upset

It wasn’t good.

The door shut behind them with a soft click.

Jun crossed his arms, his jaw tight. He exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable, but the tension in the room grew thicker by the second.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“Why did nobody tell the company about what was going on?”

The weight of his words sank in, pressing down on your shoulders like bricks.

You opened your mouth, scrambling for something to say an excuse, an explanation, anything. But before you could, Jinae stepped forward, her arms crossed, her stance firm.

Her tone was sharp, filled with an almost practiced defiance.

“What exactly was there to tell?”

Jun exhaled through his nose, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Jinhee, stepped in before he could respond. “The tip-off didn’t come from Jeongin himself.”

Your eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering in your chest.

“What?” you asked.

She sighed. “It came from his team, from his management.”

Silence.

The realization settled over you like a cold wave.

It wasn’t Jeongin who had run to JYP.

It was the people around him.

The same people who managed his schedules, his appearances, his career. The people who saw him as an investment before they saw him as a person.

You swallowed hard. “Why?”

Jinhee’s expression darkened slightly. “Because they’re angry. And because they want to make sure he isn’t mentioned in any articles if this ever gets out.”

Your heart dropped.

They wanted to keep him safe.

They wanted to leave you out to dry.

Your mouth felt dry, and you turned toward Jun. “What’s going to happen?” you asked, your voice quieter than before. “Is the company really that angry with me?”

Jun sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before meeting your eyes.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But more than that… they’re angry that JYP wants to throw you under the bus while keeping Jeongin completely out of it.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Of course. Of course JYP wouldn’t want their idol wrapped up in a scandal.

You knew how these things worked.

A dating scandal was already risky enough. But a pregnancy? That could end careers.

And HYBE wasn’t exactly known for handling these situations with kindness, either.

Your hands curled into fists at your sides.

“So what?” Minsu cut in, her voice sharper than usual. “They want to act like Jeongin had nothing to do with this? Like she just what? Got pregnant on her own?”

Jun didn’t answer.

Because that was exactly what JYP was trying to do.

Erase Jeongin from the narrative. Make it seem like this was your burden alone. Let you take the backlash, while he walked away unscathed.

Jinae scoffed. “That’s bullshit.”

Jun let out another breath, his expression softening just slightly. “I agree,” he admitted. “Which is why I fought back on it.”

You blinked in surprise.

He continued, “I told them that if Jeongin is involved, then he is involved. If this goes public, we’re not going to pretend otherwise.”

Your chest tightened.

This was it.

The reality you had been dreading was now in motion.

It was out of your hands now.

You weren’t just scared anymore.

You were terrified.

The air in the room was thick with tension, the weight of Jun’s words settling heavily over everyone.

You felt frozen in place, your fingers clenched tightly into your hoodie sleeves as your mind tried to process everything at once.

It wasn’t Jeongin who had told. It was his management.

And now, JYP was working to wipe his name from the situation entirely.

Your company was angry, not just at you, but at them, for trying to shield Jeongin while leaving you and your group to take the fall.

This wasn’t just about you anymore. It was about Jinae. Minsu. Chae. It was about everything the four of you had built together, all the sacrifices you had made to get where you were now.

And the idea that it could all crumble around you because of this? Because of something you didn’t even do alone?

It made you feel sick.

Jinae, standing with her arms crossed tightly over her chest, was the first to speak up.

“What happens if this gets out?” she asked, her voice firm but controlled. “What if Jeongin’s name ends up in the articles anyway?”

Jun sighed, rubbing a hand over his face before answering. “JYP is serious about this. If his name is mentioned, they’re prepared to deny everything.”

The words hit you like a slap.

They would deny it.

Act like it wasn’t true.

Act like you were lying.

Your stomach twisted painfully, and your fingers curled into fists at your sides. You didn’t know why you felt surprised, this was the industry, after all. This was how things worked.

But still, after everything, after how Jeongin had promised to stand by you, after how he had told you over and over again that you weren’t alone..

The thought of him standing back while his company erased his involvement made your chest ache in a way you couldn’t explain.

Jun continued, his voice softer this time. “But I don’t want that to happen.” He looked at you then, his eyes steady. “Because like Minsu said, you didn’t make this baby on your own. It’s unfair for you to be the only one taking the fall while they get to walk away untouched.”

Jinae scoffed under her breath, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

Minsu, who had been quiet until now, finally spoke, her voice laced with frustration. “So what happens now? What are we supposed to do?”

Jun exhaled, his expression unreadable. “For now, we wait. HYBE is still discussing how to handle this. We don’t want this leaking before we can control the narrative.”

Control the narrative.

Of course.

This wasn’t just about you, it was about the company’s image. About how they could twist the situation to protect themselves.

Even if Jun had good intentions, even if he seemed to be fighting for you, you knew at the end of the day,

You were just another idol.

And idols were replaceable.

Your hands trembled at your sides, and you felt Chae gently brush against you, a small, silent reminder that you weren’t alone.

But it didn’t feel like enough.

Because even with all of them here, even with their support

You had never felt more alone in your life.

The weight of the conversation bore down on you like an avalanche, suffocating and inescapable. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your thoughts spiraling as you struggled to grasp what this all meant for you, what it meant for your future, for your career, for everything you had worked so hard for.

Your voice felt small when you finally spoke. “What should I do?” you asked, eyes locked onto Jun, the only person in the room who could give you a clear answer. “What does the company want me to do?”

Jun sighed, his expression unreadable. “I know you’re not going to like this idea,” he said carefully, measuring his words. “But this is your best option.”

You held your breath.

“A long hiatus.”

The room felt impossibly still.

Jun continued, “You could take time to rest, have the baby, get through postpartum, and then come back completely recovered and fully rested.”

A long hiatus.

You felt the words settle into your bones, heavy and suffocating.

Your gaze flickered to the girls, searching their faces for any sort of reaction. Jinae looked torn, her brows furrowed in concern. Minsu shifted uneasily, arms crossed as if she was holding herself together. Chae’s lips were pressed into a thin line, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

They didn’t want you to go.

But they also knew it was your only choice.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing yourself to nod. “I don’t want to ruin this for the group,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “So I’ll go.”

You weren’t just doing this for yourself, you were doing it for them.

Because soon, you’d be showing.

Soon, no amount of oversized clothes or careful angles would be able to hide the truth.

And even if you could push through the exhaustion, the nausea, the constant changes happening in your body,

You couldn’t keep performing like you used to.

Dancing, training, long hours of travel, non-stop schedules, none of it was safe for you or the baby.

So this was your only option.

You tried to lighten the mood, offering a small, tired smile. “At least I’ll get to see my family after so long.”

Jinhee, who had been quietly observing, nodded in agreement. “Honestly, this is your best option. You’re lucky the company is being this understanding.”

You nodded again, but there was a part of you that knew

This wasn’t just understanding.

This was damage control.

This was them taking you out of the public eye before the situation could spiral out of their control.

Jun shifted, ready to leave now that the decision had been made.

But before he could take a step, you reached out, gripping his sleeve and pulling him aside, away from Jinhee, away from the girls.

His brow furrowed in slight confusion, but he stayed put, waiting for you to speak.

Your voice was barely above a whisper, raw and desperate.

“Please,” you begged. “Don’t let them drag Jeongin into this.”

Jun’s jaw tightened.

You knew he didn’t like hearing that.

You knew how unfair this was that Jeongin should be held accountable too.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to let that happen.

“I don’t want to ruin his career,” you continued, eyes pleading. “Please.”

Jun exhaled sharply, clearly irritated, but after a long moment, he gave you a brief nod.

Your shoulders sagged with relief, but deep down, you knew

This wasn’t over yet.

The days following that conversation were a blur of forced smiles, quiet panic, and the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you.

You continued attending schedules as if nothing had changed, knowing that soon, you’d have to step away from it all. The company hadn’t made an official statement yet, but the decision was final. You’d be going on hiatus. You just didn’t know when or how they would announce it.

Your members were glued to your side now more than ever. Jinae, Minsu, and Chae hardly let you out of their sight, as if they were afraid you’d disappear before they were ready. Jinae, in particular, was fuming about the way JYP had handled things, but you kept telling her to let it go.

What else could you do?

The hardest part, however, was Jeongin.

You had blocked his number that day, but that didn’t stop him from trying to reach you. Calls from unknown numbers. Messages from Chan. Even handwritten notes delivered through a mutual friend.

All of them said the same thing.

I’m sorry. Please, talk to me.

But you couldn’t.

Not yet.

Not when your entire world was already crashing down around you.

It wasn’t until a few nights later, when you were back at your dorm, that everything truly hit you. You had been holding it together all day, smiling through meetings, pushing through rehearsals, pretending that nothing was wrong, but the moment you were alone in your room, the weight of it all became unbearable.

You curled up on your bed, pressing your face into your pillow as silent tears streamed down your cheeks.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

You had always known being an idol meant sacrificing a normal life. You had accepted that. But now, it felt like you were losing everything, your career, your relationship, your sense of security piece by piece.

A soft knock on your door startled you.

“Hey,” Jinae’s voice came through the door. “Can I come in?”

You wiped your face quickly, sitting up. “Yeah.”

She opened the door gently, stepping inside and closing it behind her. She didn’t say anything at first, just sat down beside you on the bed.

“You don’t have to keep it all in,” she said quietly.

The dam broke.

You turned to her, burying your face into her shoulder as you sobbed. She didn’t say anything, just wrapped her arms around you, holding you tightly as you cried.

When you finally calmed down, she pulled away slightly, brushing some hair out of your face.

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” she said, “but you need to talk to him.”

You tensed. “Jinae—”

“I’m not saying to forgive him,” she interrupted. “But you need answers.”

You swallowed hard. Deep down, you knew she was right.

You couldn’t avoid Jeongin forever.

And whether you liked it or not, you still loved him.

You just didn’t know if that was enough anymore.

Jinae didn’t say much after that. She just gave your hand a light squeeze and stood, telling you softly that she’d be right outside if you needed her. You nodded, still clutching your pillow, your chest aching in that specific way grief and betrayal seem to carve into your ribs.

Once the door clicked shut, the room felt too quiet. Too still. It was just you and your heartbeat pounding against the inside of your throat.

With a shaky breath, you reached for your phone. Your hand hovered over his name, still blocked.

You stared at it for a long time.

Then, with one swipe, you unblocked him. And before your brain could catch up to what your heart had already decided, you hit call.

He answered on the first ring.

“Y/N—” his voice was sharp, panicked, breathless. “Why did you block me? I’ve been trying to reach you for days, I’ve—”

But you didn’t let him finish.

“I need to ask you something first,” you said. Your voice was raw, still hoarse from earlier tears, but there was a steel edge to it now. “Why did your team tell my company?”

Silence. Just the faintest sound of him exhaling on the other end.

You knew that silence. It was guilt.

“Jeongin,” you said again, quieter. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come to me first?”

He finally answered. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that,” he said, voice low, frustrated but more at himself than at you. “Chan—he freaked out when I told him. He’s been so stressed, and when I told him I was trying to keep it between us until we figured it out, he said I was being selfish. That I was risking everything.”

“So you told them,” you said, bitterness curling at the edges of your tone.

“I didn’t want to,” he said, quickly. “I had to. He made me tell management. I— I should’ve told you. I know. That’s why I lashed out on you the other night. I was already a mess, I didn’t know what to do and I took it out on you, and that was wrong.”

“You think?” you snapped, your voice cracking with the emotion you’d been holding back. “You called me annoying, Jeongin. After everything, I was scared, I was alone, and you made me feel like I was a burden.”

He went quiet again. You could hear his breath catching like he was pacing or shaking his head, angry at himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I swear to you, I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of that. I was just scared. I still am.”

You wiped a tear before it could fall, swallowing the ache in your throat. “They’re putting me on hiatus,” you told him, voice hollow. “Starting soon. Over a year.”

The silence on his end cracked like thunder.

“What?” he whispered. “Already?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “I didn’t really have a choice. They’re angry. But… they’re trying to protect me. Us.”

He didn’t speak for a long moment. You imagined him sitting down, running his hand through his hair the way he always did when he felt helpless.

“I don’t want you to go through this alone,” he finally said. “You and the baby… I should’ve been better. I should’ve fought harder for you, not against you.”

You sighed, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth as the tears fell again. “I don’t know if I can trust you right now.”

“I know,” he said. “But I’m going to fix that. I promise.”

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t. Because you wanted to believe him.

But part of you was still shattered.

So you stayed quiet as he whispered “I love you. And I love our baby. Please… just let me prove it.”

The silence that followed his words felt heavy, and you hated that it still stirred something soft in your chest, the way he said “I love you” like it wasn’t a question, like it was something that remained, no matter how messy things had gotten between you.

But you had to be honest.

“I hated that you shut me out,” you said, voice trembling but steady. “The second things got hard… you shut me out like I didn’t matter. Like we didn’t matter.”

There was a pause. You could hear a soft exhale from his side of the call, almost like he was bracing himself.

“I know,” Jeongin said quietly. “And you’re right. I did. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. Everything happened so fast, Chan got scared, I panicked, I felt like I was being pulled in ten different directions. But that’s not an excuse. I should’ve come to you. I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve trusted us.”

You didn’t answer right away, your fingers gripping your phone tighter as his voice cracked just slightly on the last word.

“I’m sorry,” he added, and this time it sounded so sincere, so raw, you had to close your eyes. “Just… let me make it right. Let me prove to you that I can be better. That I want to be better. For you, and for the baby.”

A long breath escaped you, your shoulders sagging under the emotional weight you’d been carrying for days. “Okay,” you whispered. “Okay, Jeongin.”

You could hear the shift in him, like his body physically relaxed through the call. A little smile laced his voice when he said, “Thank you… really. Thank you. You have no idea how scared I’ve been. I missed you so much. How’s the baby?”

That question, gentle, hopeful, real made something stir inside you again. A different kind of ache. One that reminded you that this wasn’t just about pain and betrayal. There was still something beautiful in the center of all this chaos. A little life. A little piece of both of you.

“They’re okay,” you murmured, brushing your fingers lightly over your still-flat stomach. “I haven’t had a check-up since last week, but everything looked good. I’ve been eating more, resting when I can. The girls are spoiling me.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound familiar and warm. “Good. You deserve to be spoiled. Both of you.”

There was a small pause.

Then, you said it softly, hesitantly, unsure how it would land. “When the hiatus gets announced… I might be going home for a bit.”

The smile you heard in his voice faded almost instantly. “Home?” he repeated, and you could already hear the resistance in his tone. “Like, back to your parents’?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “The company thinks it’s better if I’m away for a while. And honestly… I miss it. I need some space. Somewhere quiet. Familiar.”

“I get it,” he said slowly, but you could tell he didn’t like it. “But… that means I won’t see you. At all.”

You sighed. “That’s kind of the point, Jeongin. I need time. I need to think. And I need to be somewhere that doesn’t feel like it’s falling apart.”

He was quiet, clearly trying to figure out how to respond without pushing too hard. “I want to be there for you,” he finally said, and there was a quiet desperation behind the words. “I know I messed up. But I want to be part of this, even if I have to earn back your trust. Even if I only get scraps of you for a while.”

“I’m not doing this to punish you,” you told him softly. “I just… I need to feel safe again. And right now, that means going home.”

He didn’t fight it. Not really. He just let out a small, broken sigh. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll wait. Just… keep texting me, okay? Updates about you. About them. Even if I can’t be there. Just let me know you’re okay.”

“I will,” you promised, and your heart ached again at the quiet hope in his voice.

The call ended gently this time. No harsh words. No slamming silence.

Just two people, scared and trying.

Trying to figure out how to stay whole while everything around them changed.

The past few days had felt like a blur. Everything was moving too fast, yet at the same time, it felt like you were wading through thick, heavy air, each step forward feeling heavier than the last. You knew this day was coming, but knowing didn’t make it easier.

Today, your company would announce your hiatus.

Even though you had agreed to it, even though you had accepted it as your best option, the reality of it hit differently now that it was here. Your group had worked so hard to get to where you were. You had dreamed of this for years, sacrificed so much, given every piece of yourself to this life. And now… you were stepping back.

It terrified you.

What if things changed while you were gone? What if the group went on without you and you came back only to feel like an outsider? What if the fans turned their backs on you? And worse, what if they never took you back?

The girls had been with you all morning, refusing to leave you alone as you refreshed your phone, waiting for the official statement to drop. Minsu had even stolen your phone at one point, forcing you to sit down and eat something while they all kept an eye on the internet for you. You appreciated them more than you could put into words. They had been your rock through this, never once making you feel like a burden, never once making you feel like you were going through this alone.

When the statement finally did go up, your heart practically stopped.

Your company had kept the announcement simple.

"Due to health-related concerns, Y/N will be taking an extended hiatus from all group activities. We deeply apologize to fans for the sudden news and ask for your understanding as she prioritizes her health and recovery. Thank you for your continued support."

That was it. No further details, no hints at the real reason, just a vague explanation that left everything open to speculation. Within minutes, the internet was ablaze with reactions. Fans were confused, some were worried, some were already coming up with wild theories. It was exactly what you had been dreading.

And then there was your statement, an apology letter written by you, reviewed by the company, and now posted for the world to see. You had rewritten it a dozen times before finally settling on something that felt like you. It wasn’t much, just a brief message apologizing to the fans, thanking them for their love and support, and asking them to wait for you.

You didn’t dare check the comments.

Instead, you sat there, your hands shaking, your breath uneven.

Minsu immediately reached for you, pulling you into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay,” she murmured. “We’re right here. We’re not going anywhere.”

Jinae sat down beside you, rubbing your back. “They’ll understand. And the ones who don’t? They were never really here for you in the first place.”

Chae nodded. “And besides, this isn’t forever. You will come back. And when you do, we’ll be right here waiting.”

You bit your lip, nodding as you blinked back tears. “I just… I hate leaving like this. I hate lying to them.”

Jinae squeezed your shoulder. “I know. But you’re not lying, okay? You do need this break. You do need to take care of yourself. And when you’re ready, you will tell your story. On your own terms.”

You exhaled shakily, nodding again. “Thank you,” you whispered.

The moment was interrupted by the buzz of your phone on the table. Minsu handed it back to you, and your heart skipped when you saw Jeongin’s name.

Jeongin: I just saw the announcement. Are you okay?

Jeongin: Call me if you need anything, okay?

You stared at the messages for a moment before typing back a quick, I’m okay. Just overwhelmed.

Almost instantly, the typing bubbles appeared.

Jeongin: I know. I wish I could be there with you.

Jeongin: Just say the word, and I’ll come.

You swallowed hard, fingers hesitating over your screen. You wanted to see him. You missed him. But you weren’t sure if you were ready for that yet.

Instead, you just typed, Not yet. But soon.

His response came immediately.

Jeongin: I’ll be waiting.

The first few weeks of your hiatus were strange. For years, your life had been nothing but rehearsals, performances, interviews, and constant movement. Every single day had been filled with something, training, traveling, promoting. You had barely had time to breathe, let alone do nothing.

But now, your days felt… empty.

The girls would wake up early and rush off to schedules, photoshoots, meetings while you stayed behind. At first, it felt like a much-needed break. You could sleep in, take long showers, eat at a normal pace instead of scarfing down meals between rehearsals. You caught up on dramas you had missed, scrolled through social media, and actually had time to sit and just exist.

But then, the boredom hit.

At first, you tried to keep yourself occupied reading, sketching, even attempting to write lyrics for fun. But there was only so much you could do when you were practically trapped inside. The company had strongly advised against going out too much. They didn’t want any risk of you being spotted, and more than that, they wanted to avoid any unnecessary speculation. That meant no public outings unless absolutely necessary, no random shopping trips, not even visiting family.

You understood why, but it was suffocating.

Most days, you were alone in the dorm. The silence was deafening.

The only thing keeping you sane were the calls.

Jeongin called you every night without fail. Sometimes he’d call during the day too, quick check-ins between his own schedules. He always asked how you were feeling, if you were eating well, if you needed anything. Some nights, he’d talk until you fell asleep, his voice the only comfort you had in the quiet.

“You must be so bored,” he said one night, chuckling softly over the phone.

“You have no idea,” you sighed. “I’ve been staring at the ceiling for an hour.”

Jeongin laughed. “I wish I could come over.”

“Me too,” you admitted.

There was a pause before he spoke again, softer this time. “Are you still feeling okay? Any nausea?”

“A little, but it’s manageable.”

“Are you craving anything? I can send something over.”

You smiled. “You already send me too much.”

“I like spoiling you,” he said, a little defensive. “Let me.”

You could practically hear the pout in his voice, and it made your heart ache. You missed him so much. The secrecy, the distance, it was starting to weigh on you.

The girls checked on you constantly too, sending messages throughout the day. If they had free time between schedules, they’d FaceTime you, making sure you weren’t completely losing your mind.

Minsu: What are you doing?

You: Laying down.

Minsu: AGAIN?!

You: What else am I supposed to do??

Minsu: Okay, new plan. I’m buying you puzzles or something. You need enrichment.

Jinae would bring back snacks for you after schedules, sometimes forcing you to sit with them while they ate so you wouldn’t be alone.

Chae started watching the same drama as you just so you’d have something to talk about.

They did everything they could to make you feel included, even when you weren’t physically there.

But still… it was hard.

Hard not to feel isolated. Hard not to feel like the world was moving on without you. Hard not to worry about the future.

How long would you be able to hide this? What would happen when the truth did come out?

And the biggest fear of all, would things ever really go back to normal?

Days turned into weeks, and soon, you found yourself slipping into a routine. Wake up, eat breakfast alone, scroll through your phone, maybe watch a drama or read something, take a nap, wait for the girls to return, talk to Jeongin at night, and then repeat.

It was monotonous, isolating, but at least predictable.

However, your body was changing.

At first, it wasn’t noticeable, just small things. You felt more exhausted, even though you weren’t doing anything strenuous. Some days, you’d wake up starving, and other days, the mere thought of food made your stomach churn. You caught yourself resting a hand on your belly absentmindedly, still struggling to grasp the reality that you were really pregnant.

But then, the real changes started.

Your clothes didn’t fit quite the same. Your favorite pair of jeans felt too tight, your stage outfits (that you still tried on for fun) didn’t zip up as easily. Even the girls noticed.

“You’re starting to show,” Chae said one evening as you stood in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of your hoodie.

You sighed. “I know.”

Jinae walked up behind you, resting her chin on your shoulder. “You’re okay with that, right?”

You hesitated. “I don’t know…”

You knew the inevitable was coming. You couldn’t hide this forever. Your hiatus could only serve as a cover-up for so long before questions started piling up.

And then, of course, there was him.

Jeongin.

He had been great, supportive, reassuring, always checking in. But he was still an idol. He was still promoting, still going on schedules, still in the public eye. He could pretend like none of this affected him, but you knew it did.

And your worst fear? That, despite all his promises, he’d start to resent you for it.

One night, when the girls were still out at a schedule, Jeongin called you unexpectedly.

“Hey,” you answered softly.

“You sound tired,” he said. “You okay?”

You let out a small laugh. “I think I’m always tired now.”

He chuckled. “That’s normal, right?”

“That’s what they say.”

There was a beat of silence before he spoke again, this time quieter.

“I want to see you.”

Your heart clenched. “Jeongin, you know that’s risky.”

“I don’t care.”

You sighed. “I care.”

He groaned. “I just, being away from you this much is killing me. I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”

Your fingers tightened around the phone. You missed him too. So much. But what could you do? It wasn’t just about you two anymore.

“Just a little longer,” you whispered.

Jeongin didn’t respond right away. When he finally spoke again, his voice was softer, sadder.

“I don’t want to miss this,” he admitted. “Any of it. I want to be there.”

You felt tears prick your eyes. You knew he meant it. But you also knew that wanting something and being able to do something were two different things.

“Soon,” you whispered, more to yourself than him. “Soon.”

You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

The night had started off quietly.

You and Chae were curled up on the couch, a fluffy blanket draped over both of you as you watched a movie. It was one you had already seen before, but neither of you really cared, it was just something to fill the silence, something comforting. Chae had been extra clingy with you lately, almost as if she could sense that you needed it. She would randomly hold your hand, rest her head on your shoulder, or link arms with you when you walked around the dorm.

Tonight was no different. She was snuggled up against your side, her head resting on your shoulder while you absentmindedly rubbed circles on the back of her hand. The warmth, the weight of her against you, it was nice. It made you feel less alone

You had barely thought about your phone call with Jeongin earlier. You had buried it deep in your mind, knowing that thinking about it too much would only make you feel worse. But then..

A knock at the door.

Chae lifted her head slightly. “That might be Jinhee. She said she’d stop by to drop off something the company got you.”

You hummed in response, standing up and stretching before making your way to the door. You didn’t even hesitate before unlocking it and pulling it open.

And that’s when you saw him.

A man in all black, hood pulled up, mask covering his face, hands reaching out..

You screamed.

Chae shot up from the couch, panic flashing across her face as she rushed toward you. But then

“It’s me!”

You froze.

That voice, deep, familiar, warm.

Jeongin.

Before you could even fully process what was happening, he pushed himself inside, shutting the door quickly behind him and pulling down his mask and hat.

You smacked his chest hard.

“What the hellare you doing?!” you hissed. “You scared me half to death!”

Jeongin winced, rubbing the spot where you hit him. “Okay, ow—first of all, I did try to warn you, but you screamed too fast.”

Chae, who had been standing frozen in shock, finally snapped out of it. “Jeongin?! Are you insane?!”

He gave her an apologetic look before turning his attention back to you.

You were still fuming. “You cannot just show up like this! Do you know how risky this is?! What if someone saw you?!”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I was careful. No one saw me.”

“That’s not the point!”

“I had to see you,” he said, eyes searching yours. “I couldn’t just sit around anymore.”

Your breath hitched. The raw emotion in his voice, the desperation, it made your heart ache.

Chae, sensing the tension, cleared her throat. “I… should probably go to my room.”

You turned to her, still flustered. “Chae, you don’t have to—”

“I should,” she said, giving you a knowing look before walking past you. But as she did, she whispered, “Just don’t be too loud, okay?”

Your jaw dropped. “Chae!”

Jeongin chuckled under his breath as Chae disappeared into her room, leaving the two of you alone.

You sighed, rubbing your temples before looking back at him. “You are so reckless.”

His expression softened. “I know.”

Silence settled between you. Now that the initial panic had worn off, all that was left was the overwhelming need to be near him. To touch him, hold him, feel him after weeks of nothing but phone calls and longing.

Jeongin must have felt it too because, in the next second, he was stepping closer, arms wrapping around you tightly, pulling you into his chest.

And just like that, you melted.

You buried your face into his hoodie, inhaling the familiar scent of him warm, fresh, safe. His hands ran soothingly up and down your back, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go.

“I missed you,” he murmured into your hair.

Your fingers gripped his hoodie tighter. “I missed you too.”

More than you could even put into words.

The warmth of Jeongin's hand on your belly startled you for a moment, but it was a comforting surprise. His fingers brushed gently over the curve that was just beginning to show, the faintest outline of a baby bump that was slowly becoming impossible to hide. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering a moment longer as if he never wanted to pull away.

“I know this is scary,” you trailed off, not sure how to express everything running through your mind.

Jeongin laughed softly, the sound lifting some of the heaviness from the room. “We’ll get through it. Together.” He pulled you in again, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. You melted into him, letting yourself feel safe, even if just for a moment.

You leaned against him, both of you sinking back into the couch together. His arms enveloped you like a shield from everything you were worried about the company, the fans, the possible backlash. For now, in his arms, you were allowed to forget about it all, just focusing on the warmth between you.

“What have you been doing all day?” he asked, his voice soft but full of concern.

“Honestly? Just… being bored,” you admitted, resting your head on his shoulder. “I don’t have anything to do anymore. No schedules, no rehearsals… Just sitting here, waiting for time to pass.”

He chuckled. “Sounds like torture.”

You nodded, feeling a little sad. The reality of the hiatus was starting to sink in, and the boredom that followed was nothing like you’d expected. It wasn’t peaceful, it was suffocating.

The two of you stayed like that, just cuddling, letting the quiet of the moment settle around you. You didn’t speak much; it wasn’t necessary. The simple act of being close to him, feeling his presence, was more than enough.

But then, you heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. You didn’t think much of it at first, probably Jinae coming back from the studio a little later than usual. However, when the door swung open and the soft click of heels followed, you immediately knew it wasn’t just her.

Jinae entered first, Jinhee followed closely behind her, her expression unreadable but not necessarily friendly.

The moment you saw her, you immediately jumped to your feet, pushing Jeongin away from you in panic. He stood up quickly as well, his eyes flicking to yours, a mixture of confusion and concern on his face.

Jinhee wasted no time. “What is this?” she asked, voice sharp. “Jeongin, you shouldn’t be here at all.”

Jeongin opened his mouth to speak, but Jinhee cut him off immediately. “No.” She shook her head, her gaze hardening. “You need to go. Now.”

Jeongin hesitated, looking at you as if searching for your permission. You bit your lip, not wanting to make it harder for him but knowing you didn’t have a choice. He had to leave. You nodded, your throat tightening, and though he didn’t want to, he respected your silent decision.

“Alright,” Jeongin muttered quietly, his voice thick with disappointment. He walked towards the door, but before leaving, he paused and glanced back at you. “I’ll… call you later, okay?”

You didn’t trust yourself to say anything, so you simply nodded, giving him a small, forced smile. Your chest felt heavy as you watched him leave, the door clicking shut behind him.

Jinhee turned to you, a disappointed look on her face. “You knew better than this. I don’t care if you’re lonely or if he’s the only one who makes you feel better. You have to think about the bigger picture.”

You couldn’t argue with her, but it stung more than you expected. You were trying to keep everything together, trying to follow the rules, but it was harder than anyone understood. You nodded apologetically, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

Jinhee didn’t seem to want to lecture you more. She handed you a small, neatly wrapped package. “This is from the company. For you and the baby.” Her tone softened just slightly as she added, “You’ll get through this. Just… take care of yourself.”

You took the gift from her, your fingers trembling slightly. “Thank you,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. She gave you a curt nod before turning to leave, the door closing quietly behind her.

You stood in the middle of the room for a long moment, staring at the gift in your hands but not really seeing it. Your mind was on Jeongin. On the way he looked when he left. You hated that you had to let him go like that, even though you knew it was necessary. You had to be smart. You couldn’t risk anything right now.

You excused yourself early that evening, retreating to your room under the pretense of needing rest. But, in truth, you just wanted to be alone. You didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Soon, your phone buzzed.

It was Jeongin.

You picked it up immediately, despite the heaviness in your chest.

“Hey,” his voice came through, soft but filled with concern. “I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to make things harder for you.”

You sniffled, sitting on your bed as you responded, “It’s not your fault. I just… I don’t know what to do anymore. Everything is just…”

“Stressful?” he finished for you.

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it. “Yeah. It’s just been so much, and I’m not sure I’m handling it very well.”

“I hate seeing you suffer like this,” he said, his voice full of empathy. “I can’t stand it. You don’t deserve any of this.”

“I don’t know what I deserve anymore,” you replied softly, the tears starting to sting your eyes again.

“Hey,” he said firmly, “you deserve so much. You deserve to be happy. And I promise, we’ll figure this out. You and me, together. Just like we always have.”

You swallowed hard, the tightness in your throat almost too much to bear. “I hope so.”

“I’ll make sure you’re okay,” he assured you. “You’re not alone in this.”

“I know. I just need you to be patient with me. I’ll figure it out, but… it’s going to take some time.”

“I’ll wait. For as long as it takes.”

You closed your eyes at his words, feeling a bittersweet warmth settle in your chest. You didn’t have all the answers, and the path ahead was far from clear. But with Jeongin by your side, you were starting to believe that, maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

For now, that was enough.

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[fs taglist: @laine2353 @emilyywhyy @d3kstar @lenfilms..]

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lynnieverse · 2 months ago

Text

like real people do // drew starkey

oneshot

drew stakery x popstar!reader

synopsis: after a little slip up in an interview where you accidentally reveal your celebrity crush, things get a little complicated when someone starts meddling.

4.2k words

highly requested part two here!

You knew doing the interview was going to bite you in the ass. Nothing good ever came from distracting you with puppies and asking personal questions. So, when the interviewer innocently asked your celebrity crush, you didn’t hesitate to say Drew Starkey. It didn’t hit you until afterward, sitting in the back of your car, debriefing with your assistant.

“I can’t believe you said your celebrity crush though,” she said, eyebrows raised. Your heart stutters a bit and you quickly whip your head towards her.

“No I didn’t.”

“Um…yeah, you did.” Panic spiked through your veins, sweat beading on your brow.

“Oh shit. Oh shit! Amara, tell me I didn’t say who I’m thinking of,” you grip her arm tightly, eyes pleading. Amara winces and looks at you with what could only be pity. “No!”

Madelyn was going to kill you.

You met Madelyn Cline a few months ago at the People’s Choice Awards when you were presenting. You’d instantly clicked and made plans to hang out the next week. Everything was going really great, and you were doing a good job at keeping your little crush a secret. Now, it’ll come out, be circulated everywhere online, and Madelyn’s going to think you’re some crazy stalker. How would she react to you having a crush on her co-star? Definitely not well.

Amara places a comforting hand on your shoulder, smiling sympathetically. “It’s okay, Y/N, it’s just a silly interview. Nobody will take it seriously.”

“Everyone will take it seriously! I don’t know why I started fraternizing with actors, I need to stick to my lane.”

“Hey, why don’t you write a song about it? It might help.” You thought about it for a moment, feeling the familiar bubble of lyrics tickling the back of your mind. Writing always helps you calm down, maybe putting the feelings on paper would make them go away.

As the car stopped in front of your hotel, flashes from the paparazzi’s cameras were bright even through the tinted windows. You sigh and grab a jacket, wrapping it around your head like a shield, and wait for security to open the door. You ignore the loud shouting as you dash inside, closely followed by Amara and the rest of the crew. Inside isn’t much better, but at least the other guests have the decency to leave you alone for now.

You sometimes feel bad, often making it up later by signing a bunch of autographs outside, but right now you’re exhausted and embarrassed. The interview threw off your whole day, and you just want to lay in bed and watch trashy reality television.

Your security escorts you to the elevator, and then does a sweep of your room before eventually leaving. Finally alone, you put on your rattiest and comfiest pajamas, take off all your makeup, and throw your hair up before jumping in bed. You reach for the remote to start your aforementioned binge, but hesitate over the little purple notebook you carry everywhere. Sighing, you know you won’t be able to relax without getting it all out. You dig through your bag and find a glittery pink pen, uncapping it with your teeth and getting to work.

You’ve never met Drew, not once, but something about him just had you giggling like a schoolgirl. Witnessing his kindness through your constant internet stalking quickly proved to be a bad idea, because now you have a big fat crush on the man and he doesn’t even know you exist.

Well that’s not true. Everyone knows you exist, but he would never think of you that way. Dating as a popular musician was not as easy as one might think, it’s often too much for people. The words start flowing with ease, filling up the cream pages in no time.

Gleaming

Twinkling

Eyes like sinking ships

On waters so inviting

I almost jump in

His eyes really are beautiful. So blue, so warm. But the feelings you have aren’t logical, and they’re so exhausting.

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush

I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

He’s the internet's boyfriend right now, edits flying around like crazy. You know dozens of people back home who are definitely salivating over this man. Something about him…you can’t put your finger on it.

What must it be like

To grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominos

Every silly thought you’d ever had poured out onto the page. By the time you were finished you knew it was a hit. Grabbing your guitar you make a split second decision to tease your fans a bit. Unlocking your phone, you quickly open Instagram and go live before you can stop yourself. Your face pops up on the screen, thousands of people already in and commenting.

“Hey guys! I just finished a new song and wanted to play a little for you if that’s alright?” You smirk, knowing the answer already. Of course, everyone starts freaking out and flooding the comments with different affirmations and emojis. You laugh, loving every second of it, before strumming the beginning chords on your guitar.

As you start singing you let your eyes close, feeling each note in your soul, pressing every callus on your worn fingertips. The pacing is a little rough, still getting the hang of the new melody, but you know as soon as you finish that you killed it. So many fans are expressing their love for the song, already asking for it to be out on streaming platforms. Others are curious as to who your muse is, throwing out the wildest guesses you’d ever seen.

“Chace Crawford?!” you exclaim, face contorted in surprise. “Y’all have a distorted sense of my ability to pull these men,” you laugh in disbelief. Your heart skips a beat when a couple comments actually guess correctly, but don’t react, knowing every single microexpression is analyzed.

“Alright guys, I think I’m going to eat myself into a sugar coma while watching Love Island, but thank you for listening! I’m glad you enjoyed the song,” you wink to the camera before waving and closing the app. Covering your face with your hands, you fall backwards on the bed, letting your guitar rest beside you. You don’t even want to check social media, already knowing screen recordings of the live will be everywhere.

Sometimes it’s crazy to think this many people care about your day to day life. The art you create touches lives across the globe. It’s both amazing and terrifying at the same time.

Not wanting to start an existential crisis on a random Tuesday night, you quickly turn on your show and cuddle up under the duvet.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

By the weekend the interview was everywhere. You’ve stayed out of it, going pretty much radio silent in response. Many are asking if you’re secretly dating, if you were going to write a song for the new season of Outer Banks, if Drew felt the same way…it’s insane.

You’d purposely put off talking to Madelyn out of sheer embarrassment. That man was like her brother and you admitted to liking him. Still, it’s time to address the issue head on, so you dial her number shakily. The phone rings three times before she answers, a sweet greeting sounding through the speakers.

“Y/N?” You clear your throat, reluctant to speak.

“Hey…” You wince at how rough your voice sounds, facepalming at your own awkwardness.

“What’s up, girl?” Madelyn sounds normal, but you know she has to be weirded out by you.

“Um, nothing much, just wanted to talk to you about something I may have said recently.”

“Is this about the puppy interview?”

“Yes?” Your voice comes out squeaky, nose scrunched. But Madelyn just starts laughing. You stare at your phone in confusion. What the hell?

“I can’t believe you finally admitted it, and during an interview? That was ballsy as hell!” You slowly start to regain your breath, brain processing her words.

“You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” she snorts.

“I didn’t want you to think I was using you to get to him.”

“Are you?”

“No! Of course not!”

“Okay then, there’s no problem.” A breath of relief escapes, and you put a hand on your chest. She’s not mad.

“Thank you so much for understanding, I really love our friendship.”

“Me too,” Mads says sincerely. “Now we just have to figure out how to get you two together!”

Your eyes widen. “What? Absolutely not. This was not an invitation for you to play matchmaker, Mads.”

“Aw man, why not? I could literally get you both in the same room tonight.” Your heart starts beating out of your chest, feeling more anxiety talking about this than being on any stage.

“He’s probably seen the interview by now, it’s so embarrassing!”

“It’s not embarrassing, Y/N. You’re attracted to the man, it’s not that crazy of a concept! Just give me a chance, please?”

“Nope. I don’t want to bother him or weird him out. Let’s just do something me and you; are you in L.A.?”

“Ugh, fine. Yes I’m here, just come over whenever.” You can feel her annoyance across the line, but ignore it. You’re not going to let her meddle.

“See you then!” Mads ends the call, sending you back into your shame spiral. Every little thing you do is always picked apart and ridiculed in the media, and you’re usually a lot more careful with what you say. The interview slip up is going to keep you up at night for the rest of your life.

Hours pass waiting for the appropriate time to head over to Madelyn’s house. You decide to dress comfortably, but have your makeup done on the off chance pictures are taken. The drive over is quiet, save for the initial crowd outside your house. How it’s legal for celebrities' addresses to be available on the internet, is something you’ll never understand.

When you pull up you notice a Jeep in her driveway and shake your head. That girl is always spending money. Your phone pings with yet another Twitter update and you roll your eyes. How can this be the most popular thing in the world right now? You glance at the notification and see it’s Drew’s name that’s trending. Huh. Interesting.

You decide to follow your instincts and ignore it, wanting to focus on girls night with Mads. As you approach the porch you find yourself nervous; even though she wasn’t mad, you still feel bad for causing such an uproar around her co-star.

Three knocks later you're waiting outside her front door in anticipation. You find yourself shifting from foot to foot, tracing the cracks in the stonework with your eyes. When the door opens you look up with a smile, expecting Madelyn’s smiling face, only to be met with the very man that had haunted you the past week. You gasp, words catching in your throat as you stare.

Drew was wearing a black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, his hair looked freshly cut into a soft mullet, and he looked just as surprised as you do. You can’t seem to close your gaping mouth, a pained sound escaping without realizing.

“Uh, hi,” Drew says sheepishly, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Eyes wide, you turn on your heel and speed walk away, leaving him alone in the doorway. You’re fumbling with your keys, cursing under your breath, when you hear a shout from behind you.

“Y/N!”

You almost make it inside your car when an iron grip latches onto your upper arm, yanking you back.

“Hey!” you protest, almost losing your balance as you’re dragged back to Mads’ house.

“Oh no you don’t, you’re not getting away that easily.”

“Madelyn Renee Cline, let me go!” You struggle against her grip, but only cause her nails to dig in deeper.

“You’re not leaving, Y/N, I won’t let you.” She finally stops when you’re once again at the door, but she doesn’t let go. Drew must’ve gone back inside, thank God, but Madelyn is glaring at you.

“Don’t look at me like that! How could you do this to me?” You give her your most withering look. She rolls her eyes at you, only pissing you off more.

“Just talk to him. I promise he doesn’t think you’re weird, or whatever you’ve concocted.”

“Well he might now!”

“That’s your own fault, I can’t believe you ran away,” she snickers, pulling you inside and closing the door. When she finally lets go of your arm, you rub the crescent indentions with a wince. The girl has some nails.

“Fine. Let’s go.” Mads looks taken aback, freezing in place.

“Really?!” You give her a pointed look. “Right, be cool. Okay come on follow me, he went back to the living room.” Reluctantly, you do just that, trailing closely behind her. You’re a ball of nerves, and can already feel your stomach twisting to knots.

Madelyn was right, he was lounging on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling on his phone. When he hears you two approach, his head shoots up and his back immediately straightens.

“Everything okay?” he asks, voice smooth and melodic. Your cheeks warm, and you avoid eye contact as much as possible.

“Um, yeah. I just–you know.” You jab your thumb back awkwardly, not even you know what you’re trying to say. But Drew cracks a smile, looking at you fondly and nodding along, as if you make perfect sense.

Madelyn’s eyes flit between you with a wide smile on her face. Not knowing what else to do, you sit down on the couch, as far away from him as possible, and stare straight ahead. Silence ensues, and you have absolutely no idea what to do in this situation. Thankfully, Madelyn breaks the silence.

“So…want to watch a movie?”

“Yes!” You and Drew speak at the same time, causing you to stare at each other shyly. Madelyn smirks and comes around the couch, forcefully sitting between you and the arm rest. You shoot her a what the fuck look and she simply shrugs.

“I like the armrest! Scooch.” Begrudgingly, you inch closer to Drew, who pretends not to notice the entire exchange. As soon as you're settled you sit pin straight, not wanting to breach the confines of your cushion. Drew’s left ankle is resting comfortably on his knee, arm thrown over the side of the couch in what seems to be a very relaxing position. Mads rolls her eyes and pulls out an ottoman, giving you something to stretch your feet out on so you can lean back.

It takes forever to pick a movie, suspiciously so, but it’s Madelyn’s house and you’re not going to say anything. Once she finally picks Avatar, she dims the lights from her phone and the three of you settle in for what’s going to be a weird couple hours.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Everything was going fine, until suddenly Madelyn got tired at nine and decided to go to bed…leaving you and Drew alone. You mentally cursed your friend for putting you in this position, obviously not listening to the blanket “no matchmaking” statement from before.

You glance at him from the corner of your eye and find him already looking at you. He quickly looked away and started tapping his fingers on his knee nervously. The movie had long since been forgotten and no words had been exchanged.

“So…” you manage, turning to face him slowly. He smiles at you, running a hand through his hair and making his bicep flex. Your stomach does a little flip flop and your face reddens at where your mind went. Drew smirks like he knows exactly what just happened, but doesn’t comment.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” His voice, oh my God. “I’m Drew, it’s nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand to shake, and you clumsily take it, feeling the warmth envelop your palm immediately.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you too,” you smile, swallowing the anxiety.

“I’m a fan of your work, actually, you’re really good.”

Your eyes almost bulge out of your head. “You listen to my songs?” Drew laughs and shakes his head, shooting you a look you don’t quite understand.

“Are you being serious?” he leans forward a bit, surprise evident on his face. You scrunch your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re easily the most popular musician of our generation and you don’t think I listen to your music?” You find yourself blushing, and a little flustered.

“Well, I wouldn’t say the most popular…I have quite a few fans, sure, but not everyone vibes with all types of music. I don’t really know what you listen to, and I didn't want to assume anything.” Drew looks you up and down, seeming to size you up.

“You’re not at all what I expected, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“And what did you expect, Drew Starkey?”

“Well, I don’t know to be honest, but you’re surprisingly humble for someone as successful as you.” You had actually gotten that a lot, although you didn’t think it was being humble so much as being a decent person. You’re still just the girl who grew up in a perfectly normal town, with normal loving parents and a wonderful home. Just because you make popular music doesn’t mean you’ve changed at all. Plus, you know it could all go away with the snap of your fingers.

“I don’t know what to say, I’m just like everyone else,” you shrug.

“I beg to differ. You’re…extraordinary. You have to know that?” There goes that damn stomach flip again.

“Thank you,” you look down at your lap. “I could say the same for you. I love your projects.” His eyes light up at the mention of his work, making you smile in turn.

“Thank you! I love everything I’ve been a part of, especially OBX. I met my second family on that set, you know?” You didn’t know, actually. Being on the road all the time meant limited options for friendships, and no time for the ones you did manage to keep. Mads is the first girlfriend other than Amara–who you employ–you’ve had in years.

“Yeah, I love Mads already. I can’t imagine how fun it must be getting to work with your best friends every day…” your voice trails off. Drew seems to notice your shift in mood and decides to change the subject.

“Hey, why don’t you play me something?”

You immediately freeze. “What?” Drew smiles and stands up, searching for something. He disappears in the hallway before emerging a minute later with a beautiful acoustic guitar in his hands. You immediately feel a pull to grab it and start playing, but are still confused.

“Here,” he hands it to you. “I want you to play me something…something nobody has heard yet.” You immediately start racking your brain and decide to take a leap and play something that could get you in trouble.

“Um…okay. This is something I was actually working on today. It’s not finished but I can play a little.” You nervously pick up the guitar, but immediately relax when you feel the rough strings beneath your fingers. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and try to forget the gorgeous man in front of you.

In the middle of the night, when I'm in this dream

It's like a million little stars spelling out your name

You gotta come on, come on

Say that we'll be together

Come on, come on

Little taste of heaven

You manage to take a peek at him while you strum, catching him totally entranced by the sound of your voice. A little confidence boost flows through you as you continue the song.

But you're untouchable, burning brighter than the sun

And now that you're close I feel like coming undone

In the middle of the night, we can form this dream

I wanna feel you by my side, standing next to me

You gotta come on, come on

Say that we'll be together

Come on, come on

Little taste of heaven

You strum a few more chords before stopping, silently waiting for his reaction. He’s staring at you, mouth parted slightly.

“Another,” he whispers. Surprised, you do what he asks, pulling another unfinished song from the vault in your mind. This one wasn’t about him, not like the last one, but it still applies.

I will not ask you where you came from

I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips

We should just kiss like real people do

You hum for a little longer, this song actually being one of your favorites. Drew is starstruck, an unknown look on his face the whole time. He seems to snap out of it and clears his throat.

“Wow, Y/N. You’re amazing…those were amazing. Were they about anyone in particular?” You internally panic, because duh. But you don’t want to weird him out.

“Um, the first one was,” you whisper, avoiding eye contact. You feel the couch move, and look up to find Drew right beside you. His leg was flush with yours, and he was so close you could see each and every freckle splashed across his cheeks. You also notice his eyes crinkle at the corners slightly when he smiles.

“Can I confess something?” he says softly. You don’t trust your voice, so you nod once. “I saw your interview.” Immediately, the embarrassment causes your face to turn into a tomato.

“Uh–about that…I–” You don’t really have an explanation, but you scramble for one anyway. Drew chuckles and grabs your hand, effectively stopping your rambling and making you redder at the same time.

“Y/N you don’t have to be embarrassed. Did you see my interview?” What interview?

“No? I didn’t know you did one. Should I have?” He squeezes your hand gently and his eyes bore into yours.

“It would’ve made this a lot easier,” he jokes. “They asked for my response to being your celebrity crush.” Fuck.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause drama for you.”

“You didn’t, I promise. But do you know what my response was?” You shake your head. He hesitates for a moment before grinning, almost shy. “I said that’s a crazy coincidence because you’re my celebrity crush.” Hold the fucking phone, did he just say what you think he said?

“What?”

“I think you’re beautiful, talented, kind, and I’ve always wanted to spend time with you. I didn’t think it was even in my realm of possibilities. Then you befriended Mads, and I thought maybe I had a chance…” Your brain must be short circuiting, because no way in hell Drew Starkey just said the feelings are mutual.

“Oh,” is all you can manage.

“Oh? That’s it?” he smiles, intertwining your fingers.

“I’m honestly so surprised right now, I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you don’t think I’m a weirdo.”

“I don’t think you’re a weirdo,” you shake your head.

“Say you’ll go out with me?” his pitch rises with uncertainty, looking nervous for your response.

“I will definitely go out with you.” Relief floods his features and he tugs you closer, pulling your legs on top of his.

“That was terrifying,” he says, massaging your calf.

“I still cannot believe this is happening right now,” you tell him honestly.

He smirks, leaning in close. “Believe it, baby.” Your heart skips a beat, mind going blank momentarily.

“I think I owe Mads a thank you,” you giggle.

“Fuck that, I’m sending her a damn gift basket.”

“You’re so right, she’s getting an album dedication from me,” you joke, causing Drew to poke you in the ribs.

“Hey, no fair. She’s going to like that so much more!” he whines. You can already see yourself falling head over heels in love with this man, and that scares you more than anything.

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” you hold your hands up in defense while Drew rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, let’s just watch another movie.”

“Sounds like a plan!” you hear from behind the couch. The two of you immediately jump, scared out of your minds, until you realize it’s just Madelyn creeping in the hallway.

“What the fuck?!” Drew yells, clutching his heart dramatically.

“You were supposed to be asleep!” You cross your arms, glaring at your blonde counterpart. She sucks her teeth and shrugs, walking over and plopping down on the couch.

“What can I say, somebody had to get you two together.” You share a look with Drew, both of you simultaneously not surprised, but exasperated by her little games.

“You’re insane,” Drew tells her, taking his spot back on the couch and throwing a pillow at her head.

“It worked didn’t it?”

Yeah. You thought. It really did.

927 notes · View notes

cheriladycl01 · 1 year ago

Text

Best Secret Santa - The Grid x Driver! Reader

Plot: in which everyone wants to have Y/N as their secret Santa because she is the best gift giver and never fails to make peoples day by going above and beyond for it!

2017

“So Y/N this is the first year of Secret Santa, how excited are you!” The F1 interviewer asks!

“I’m so excited! I love gift gifting it’s one of my love languages to show people that I know them, and I listen to them!”

“Okay are you ready to open your gift then?” She asks pushing forward a small bag that had presents wrapped up very nicely inside. You take the bag and look at the wrapping paper, it was well wrapped and good quality.

You open the first which feels as if it could be a wooden box but doesn’t really indicate what it could be.

You see that you were correct and a wooden box with your favourite paint brand is there on the top. You unclip the clasp that’s holding the lid down seeing the various paints.

“Oh this is a good present, but not many people know that I paint on the grid.

“Who knows you paint in the grid?” She asks you.

“Hmmm Romain Grosjean, K Mag, Kimi”

“So do you think it could be one of them?”

“Maybe… potentially Kimi, he knows me very well and has really helped me as a Red Bull Junior Driver and in my Rookie Year this Year”

“I think if you open the second present you’ll know who your secret Santa is” she explains and you take the second present of the table, it was pretty weighty but not as heavy as the paints.

“This feels like a book, like a hard back” you say as you start to tear into it. And it was, it was the Romain Grosjean book.

“It’s Romain!! He’s my Secret Santa?” You look at the F1 with a massive wide grin making her smile back at her!

“Wait, come with me” she becons the lady and camera crew to follow her. She walks through the building they are all in, in Abu Dhabi until she finds Romain.

“Romain, Romain wait up wait up” you shout running after him making the camera crew follow!

“Ahhh i see you received my gift!” He exclaims and she pulls him into a thankful hug.

“Please can you sigh it Mr Grosjean, I’m a huge fan of your work in Haas!” You exclaim, handing him a pen making him chuckle but still sign the book he gifted to you!

“Thank you for you time” you giggle before the cameras cut, and they decide to do Romains secret Santa while he is there.

*Flip*

“And now we are here with Lewis Hamilton who we’ve interrupted from getting ready for his Mercedes After Party for his 4 time world championship” the F1 lady smiles at Lewis Hamilton and he kindly smiles back.

“So your Secret Santa went all out, we’ve had to set the cameras a little further back and you’ve got some sizeable gifts here but they requested you read the card first”

“Holy shit” Lewis says as they start to bring in a huge box (big enough to fit the likes of Toto Wolff inside) followed by a smaller bag to the left that had three neatly wrapped presents inside.

“Who, what the fuck” Lewis says looking at the camera as if he was on the office. He looks at the F1 presenter who just shrugs her shoulders and waits for him to open the card.

“Dear Lewis, Here are 4 gifts to commemorate your 4 World Championships! Have a great winter season, and here’s to many more championships ahead! Love, Your Secret Santa” he reads seeing the little doodles inside the card.

“Any ideas on who it could be” she asks.

“No clue, everyone on the grid would know how many championships I’ve won, so this doesn’t give away much” he offers with a laugh. He grabs the bag wanting to leave the big present till last.

“Ohhh a Vegan Cook book, so they know I’m Vegan and a Japan Fridge Magnet. Okay so this is either Max or Y/N as they shared a podium with me, I’m sure off it!” He grins before taking the next present out the bag.

“What is this” he says unwrapping a rather small but oddly shaped present.

“Oh that’s so cute it’s a Dog Collar for Roscoe! Wait, holy shit it’s personalised from Dior. Surely this can’t be Max, is it Max?” He asks and the F1 presenter just shrugs.

“Thank you, this honestly is very thoughtful as Roscoe is one of my favourite things and I love the brand and wear it all the time!” He grins.

“Okay, how about we attempt to open this bigger present. I don’t actually know how you’ll get this through customs”

“I’m scared to see what it is” Lewis laughs before tearing the box open. Inside is a surfboard that is hand painted on either side with Lewis car and many other little doddles to cover the board that has something to do with Lewis.

“Oh woah a custom made board, this must have been really expensive to have made” he says observing it before picking out all the different doodles and talking about them.

“It’s not custom made, your Secret Santa actually Hand Painted this themselves” Lewis head snaps away from the board to look at the presenter in shock.

“Oh it’s got to be Y/N”

“That is correct”

“Y/N you are the cutest. I will use this board today here in Abu Dhabi before I make good use of it in the off season! I’ve never actually had anything like this before so thank you so much, you are so very thoughtful and you have the kindest soul! Thank you for everything and I hope to share a podium with you in 2018” he smiles grinning before turning his attention back to the surfboard.

2018

“Hello Y/N it is now November 2018, after the final Grand Prix of the 2018 season. So you know what time that is!” The F1 presenter asks.

“SECRET SANTA!” You scream, pulling forward the presents, there was a medium sized box in front of you.

“Can I start”

“Of course”

You pulled the lid of the box off and immediately gasp at the first thing that isn’t wrapped that you can see what it is!

“Oh my lord, how - I’ve been needing new camera lenses and a case for mine! I take pictures of everyone around the paddock! So it could be anyone, but I was talking to Max, Pierre and Dani about needing new lenses …” you admit looking to see if the F1 presenter would give you a reactionary hint.

“Oh and there’s a small envelope. I hope you enjoy this retreat with your new lenses, maybe gain a new perspective before 2019” you read out before out of the envelope you pull out flight tickets, and a small cabin hotel booking confirmation for Italy.

“No no no stop this is too much” you say tears filling up in your eyes.

“Who do you think it is” the F1 presenter asks.

“It’s Dani Ric” you cry, the words coming out strained as you look around to see if he is watching you.

“How’d you know” she asks.

“Because we had a talk about how I felt shit about this season and that the Torro Rosso wasn’t built well this year. And how him leaving Red Bull wasn’t an easy choice but it was one he had to make” you sob. The presenter comes over and pull you into a comforting hug rubbing your back and you hug into her more.

“Hey Squirt” an Australian accent comes from behind you and you fling yourself off the presenter and turn to look at the reason for your tears.

“You made me cry on camera” you say pointing to the camera and then your gifts.

“Aw I’m glad you like them! I was worried I hadn’t done well enough!” He grins rubbing your head before pulling you into a tight hug.

“I love them! And I’ll do better next year for you! I promise” you smile and he grins back at you!

*Flip*

“Hello Charles, how are you!”

“I am very good thank you. I see that there is a lot of presents here, all varying in size and it worries me. This is my first year and I don’t know many people that well!” He says looking between all the presents.

“Well here’s the card that came with it” she says passing over the red envelope that he opens the second his gets his hands on it.

“Dear Charlie, hmmm there’s not many that call me Charlie. Amazing first year in Alfa Romeo, can’t wait to see what you do in Ferrari” he reads out thinking of who it could be.

“It’s Y/N for sure. Between the amount of presents here and the note saying Charlie it must be her!” He exclaims before tearing into his first present. There were Alfa Romeo socks, with little jelly snake candies.

“Ah to remember my time in Alfa Romeo, these Candies actually look so good! Thank you!” He says observing the candies.

“This box is small, but heavy” he observes before pulling out a watch box.

“Oh my god, it’s a Ferrari watch. Look at this beauty! I will wear this now I think” He offers showing the camera the Ferrari official watch you’d got him. He places it on his wrist, looking at it before grinning and showing the camera.

“Okay this next one looks very very big, and oh it’s super heavy. I don’t even think I can lift that up”

He starts to tear off the paper, showing a cardboard box with a stamp on top, of what Charles assumed to be the place she’d got it from.

“Antiques Auction House? What is that?” He asks not knowing.

“It’s a place you bid to get rare objects” the F1 presenter grins and Charles looks up in shock. He carefully takes the tape off the lid and pulls the heavy hunk of metal out of the box. He pulls down the bubble wrap to reveal a Ferrari paddock sign.

“Is this real?” He gasps looking it over.

“Yes, maybe take a look at the race it’s from and the year” the presenter asks pushing him to look at the front a little closer.

“Monza 1996, that’s the year I was born! This gift, is so thoughtful and I will put it in my apartment where my sim is so everyone is able to see it when they come over! Hopefully this will bring me luck in Ferrari and in Monza next year so thank you Y/N”

He picks up the next gift which is small and flimsy. He immediately thinks it’s clothing.

As he tears open he holds up the t-shirt bursting out laughing looking at both sides.

On the front it was a radio from his that year printed on saying “woHooooo, Oh Yes! That feels good! - France 2018” and on the back there were words that were printed on there saying “Ask me what happened in France 2018” as a funny sexual innuendo from how crude the radio has sounded with no context behind it!

“This is hilarious and Y/N never fails with these joke gifts. That’s something I’ve noticed, I know this has only been done 2 years now but last year she had two jokey gifts for Lewis and 2 really nice thoughtful ones. This year I have similar! She’s a really good gift giver! She goes above and beyond!”

“She really does! I always get excited, just to see what Y/N gets her Secret Santa each year!”

“I think after this, if they didn’t before, everyone wants her as their gift giver!”

“Okay last gift Charles”

He open up to see a plastic CD cover, decorated by Y/N. He opens it up seeing a note inside.

“For when you finally record something on the piano” he looks up at the presenter and he shows her the cute cover the artistic grid member has designed.

“This is beautiful and I will fill it with tracks I will share with you Y/N thank you again and Merry Christmas Cheri!” He grins.

Y/N definitely spend over her own private budget this secret Santa but she couldn’t help having a small crush on the Alfa Romeo, future Ferrari boy.

2019

“Y/N, you know it’s my favourite time of the year just because you are here serving us once again with your amazing and seemingly limitless gift giving skills. I do have to ask how did you get that Monza pit board”

“Well, my dad is good friends with a Motorsport enthusiast, who has an auction house for Motorsports and Cars, and I won it in August, and was going to give it to Charles as an end or year well done/ Christmas present, but when I got him for secret Santa it made sense to put it in his gifts” you explain.

“Amazing okay so here are you presents for the 2019 season!”

“Oh my gosh I know who this is already! It’s K Mag” you exclaims seeing the pottery set! You’d been saying to him how you wanted to start getting into pottery and how you’d just brought one of the proper stoves to bake them in.

“We spoke about this before, and of course this Metallica Funko Pop would have given it away if the pottery didn’t! Omg I can’t wait to make you and your wife a vase! Thank you so much! I will bring it with me at the start of next season!” You exclaim looking in awe at the two presents in front of you!

*Flip*

“Lance Stroll, I think this year might be your lucky year, you’ve got a decent size bag with three presents” the presenter says cheerfully making Lance smile back.

“I’m excited to see what’s been brought for me! Okay first one obviously we have to open the card and see the message.

“Dear Lance, Starting as rookies together was so much fun! Beating you was even better! Oh it’s either Y/N or Gasly, we all had our rookie year together in 2017!” He exclaims before pulling out the first present which was another envelope.

“You know this is gonna be a voucher of some kind or like, a this was supposed to be your present but it’s not here. What could it be!” He asks opening it up.

“Tennis lessons … WITH ANDY MURRAY? It’s gotta be Y/N right? They are both from the UK, and I’m guessing someone she knows him? How the hell does she know him?” He laughs, he was really into tennis, if he ever had to quit motorsport he would got to tennis as his secondary option.

“This is amazing, thank you Y/N” he smiles genuinely.

“I think him and Y/N were invited to meet the Queen. She wanted to meet Y/N for breaking records around women in motorsport. They’ve played tennis together and she’s driven him round Aintree in her Lamborghini”

“Woah that’s crazy, so they are like friends? Well thank you Y/N and Andy watch out coz I’m coming for you!” He says as he reaches for the next present which is very badly wrapped.

“I think this just be the joke present she gets alongside her good ones” he says shaking it nothing giving away what it could be. He rips it open, to find a mug and a bottle of maple syrup!

“Ah yes as a true Canadian, maple is necessary! And oh a mug”

“Turn it round Lance, what does it say?” Laughs the presenter not actually knowing this was one of the presents.

“It says Daddies Little Boy” he laughs, knowing the joke in the paddock that he wouldn’t ever loose his seat in F1 until he no longer wanted to race.

“That’s hilarious, thank you Y/N I’ll be sure to show my dad this one. Okay onto the last”

He opens it up seeing a James Bond Limited Edition, signed Car from the movies in a mini form.

“It’s so funny, me and Y/N have arguments about this all the time. So they basically got her in Casino Royale as a stunt driver for one scene as she looks like Eva Green from the back. So she will always say that Casino Royale is the best Bond film, but I disagree I think it’s Quantum of Solace! Thank you Y/N for all of this! I can’t wait for my Tennis lessons!”

2020

“What a year it’s been with this virus Y/N and what a stressful year it has been for you drivers. However you’ve had some amazing drives, you had your first win this year with the new name for Toro Rosso under AlphaTauri! And we couldn’t be happier for you. But, your moving up the ranks aren’t you!” The presenter grins happily.

“Yes as of 2021 I will stay in the Red Bull family but move alongside Max into the Red Bull Racing Honda team!” You exclaim! You were so happy to have been given the chance and had worked your but of last year in AlphaTauri coming P5 in the drivers championship. Christian Horner came to you and offered you the seat as you’d done better in the Tauri than Alex in the Red Bull.

“This is just amazing news for you Y/N and we are excited to see what you can do alongside Max Verstappen in 2021!”

“Okay here are you presents for this year!” She says, you pull your mask up a little as it had dropped down as you were talking it repositioning it up and in the correct way.

“These feel like drinks?” You question as you shake the box, when you peel it down you burst out laughing at the crate of Red Bulls in front of you. Everyone knew you were moving to Red Bull so this could literally be anyone.

“Oh my gosh, and Lego Star Wars! LOOK ITS THE FALCON” you yell excitedly. During COVID, you’d streamed alongside Alex, Charles, Lando and George as you liked playing games already and it was more fun with your friends. But you also did streams where you’d answer questions while building Lego’s.

“Guys, Christmas Falcon building stream??” You ask wiggling your eyebrows, however you didn’t know if they’d be able to see them with the Santa hat currently on top of your head.

“Who did you think it is?” The presenter asks.

“I feel like this one is so hard this year, everyone knows I’m moving to RedBull and everyone knew I streamed, and my love for Star Wars” you sigh, a hand rising up to your face in a thinking motion.

“It’s gotta be someone kind and funny. Lando? NO? hmmmm …Dani Ric again? No? Pierre Gasly? NO? Oh my lord, erm I’m not sure who is it??” You ask genuinely having no clue!

“It was George Russell!” She exclaims and you grin widely!

“Thank you so much George! I really appreciate this and I hope you drop in the steam where I’m building it!”

*Flip*

“Max, what a year it’s been for you! Between some amazing races and coming P3, what can we expect from you in 2021”

“Becoming a world champion for sure, I think Y/N moving over to redbull at this time in my career is exactly what I need. She was giving me a run for my money in a mid field car this year, pushing it to its limits every race and outperforming the car. I think she’s going to be competitive and push me further as both a teammate and a rival. I’m excited to have her on board” he smiles nodding.

“Okay so here’s your presents, they are numbered in the order you have to open them in!” She says pushing them forward.

“Okay present one, oh what is this OMG tickets to Moto GP. Beside F1 that is my favourite sport! And it’s during the summer break, that’s incredible! Thank you so much! There’s two so that means I can take a friend I presume! Can I take the gifter?” He asks looking at the F1 presenter who nods, knowing you most likely wouldn’t turn that down.

“Next one! Oooo woah, this is nice, look at this. This one here is me in, Malaysia I think. My first ever face win! Austria in 2018 is here, you can see the Bulk from the Red Bull Ring, oh and here is I think this must be my win in Brazil last year I want to say? And then Abu Dhabi from this year? That race was only yesterday, how did they… this has to be Y/N I don’t know any other person who is this good at art” he says pointing the painted canvas.

“Okay, this is the last one, so this has to be her joke one right?” He asks looking towards the people.

“Read the note here first, now that you’ve worked out who it is” she smiles pushing the letter forward.

“Dear Max, I can’t wait to drive alongside you next year. Or maybe in front of you, we’ll just have to wait and see. Y/N

“I am very excited to drive with her next season. It’s going to be a very close season with the changes I’m sure will occur” he says as he starts to pull from the bag.

“A Y/N pillow, this will travel with me as a travel pillow! Oh and a Y/N signed red bull cap. You’ll be signing a lot more of these next year, but I’m honoured to get the first ever one!” He smiles nodding before looking at the camera for them to stop rolling.

2021

“Y/N, what an amazing year you’ve had a RedBull, coming in P3 and winner the constructors championship for Red Bull, how has the year been?”

“Yeah it’s been phenomenal, driving with Max has really made me push myself to the limits. I think I’m still warming up in the Red Bull this seasons and I made some mistakes which I’ve been focusing on improving each race and I think you can see that in my performance in the second half of the season. I’m thankful to max for pushing me to be a better driver and I’m excited for 2022 with Red Bull, and Honda!”

“Obviously it’s our favourite time of the year! And we are going to be opening some presents!” She says pushing forward a small box. You grin looking at the very precise and very neat wrapping.

You open the box to find one of those cute adopt a penguin with the little plushie.

“Awww it’s so cute!” You exclaims holding up the little penguin.

“And I think there’s a note in there about something else” the F1 presenter directs.

“Hello Y/N it’s your fav mentor. Join me to meet this penguin on a Antártica cruise! K.R”

“KIMI, KIMI, KIMI! No this is too much!” You say looking at the presenter in panic.

“Your idol wants to go on holiday with you! How do you feel”

“Blessed! I’m so happy! I can’t wait to go see the penguins with you Kimi!” You smile, hugging the penguin plushie close to your chest.

*Flip*

“Lando, you’ve got some large gifts here”

“Yeah it’s Y/N” Lando immediately says looking at the wide array of gifts.

“You haven’t even opened at them yet” she laughs.

“No I know Y/N and she’s the only one that puts THIS extensive effort into this! I’ve nailed it tho saying it’s Y/N” he smirks.

“Okay what have we got here” he says picking up the first which is a thinly wrapped envelope.

“Spa vouchers …” he says before shaking his head trying not to laugh and look mock angry.

“I crash in spa, and this is what I get… thanks Y/N. Oh there’s three vouchers. You can Max Fewtrell can come with me. Oh and some … Valorant lessons? Are you saying I’m bad at Valorant, just because your a sweat and your like Ascendent or some shit!” He grins out.

He grabs the next box, small yet heavy. He opens it seeing McLaren x Richard Mille.

“A watch! Woah this … I’m so happy to add this to my collection!”

“And it’s the only one ever made!” The presenter adds making him gasp and look underneath the watch at the engraving. A blush comes onto his face thanking the girl for the watch.

“Okay big box next!” He grins tearing into it.

“Oh Y/N! Y/N” he says with a hand slapped to his mouth.

“Wait no stop” he says pulling the personalised helmet she made him with a note explaining it was for a good start to 2022.

“Thank you Y/N and I can’t wait to wear this next year it’s amazing!” He smiles showing it to the camera finding more and more funny things to laugh to himself about that were inside jokes between the pair of you.

2022

“Y/N the fight between you Max and Charles was so close this year, and you only were a few points behind Charles in the end, taking a storm of a constructors win for Red Bull, so do think you and Charles will have a chance in 2023”

“Yea of course! I’ve renewed my contract with Red Bull until 2025, so I’m very excited at what it will bring!”

“As usual it’s time for the best part of the season! Secret Santa, let’s see what you’ve got this year!” She directs pushing forward the presents in front.

“A bottle of Sake! This will be from Mr Yuki Tsunoda, a Japanese delicacy that he introduced me to this year at the Grand Prix! Thank you Yuki! We’ll have to drink this together!” You smile before going to the next present.

“Oh my gosh, a Bonsai and new tools! This is perfect for my garden in London! Look I have to show you!” She smiles showing the F1 presenter pictures of her garden going off on a rant of where she could place the new bonsai.

“Thank you so much Yuki! Can’t wait to race with you in 23” you smile at the camera.

*Flip*

“Alex! Hopefully Williams has been treating you well” the interviewer smiles happily.

“It has, I think I got a lot out of the car this year which they can learn from in the future! It’s been a year of learning for all of us and we’re happy with the improvements we made” he smiles.

“Well it’s Secret Santa time. Here are your gifts”

“This first one feels like a shirt” he admits feeling up the packaging. He opens it and unfolds the top laughing at what was on the front putting it down and laughing into his hands.

“Show us what you got Alex” she asks. He holds up the gifted top that’s a picture of you and Lily holding hands walking through the paddock looking at each other loving. Above the picture in writing says ‘this woman stole my girlfriend’.

“Lily will force me to wear this, I know it and she will agree with it and come running to the menace of a Secret Santa that gifted this to me! Thank you Y/N” he smiles charmingly at the camera.

“Okay, up next oh? Private golf lessons, with Lily at Hotchkin Course. It says here’s the course is ours for the whole day! Woah, not only will I appreciate that but Lily will also enjoy that day out! Thank you so so much Y/N as usual you are the best!”

“Hand painted golf balls, oh look so this one has the Thai flag on it, this one has the Williams logo on it, this one has a Lily flower on it, okay that’s cute! Look at this detail” he says holding the ball up close to the camera!

“This is perfect! Thank you Y/N and have an amazing Christmas”

2023

"Y/N you and Max have had an amazing season this year and have dominated formula one in Red Bull. You came P2 in the championship, not too far behind Max who won his 3rd championship!"

"Yes, its been an amazing year for us and I'm hoping that next year it will be me winning the Championship!" you grin looking at the presenter.

"Okay, so its the 7th year of Secret Santa on the grid! Are you excited! Because i am!" she says shoving the small bag towards you. You grin excited.

"Yes, okay so ooooo, I know who this is straight away and I think the fans are going to be really happy over this" you grin after you'd peeled the bag back seeing the first gift that was unwrapped and open for the eye to see.

You pull the object out showing hair bleach, toner and little tools and foils, and a note saying that you'll both dye it together and be matching blondes.

You show the camera, knowing fans will not only go wild for blonde Alex, but wild for you finally going blonde after saying for months that you would.

"This is a great gift, and we are going to get Lily to do this for us together!" you smile, before dipping into the bag and pulling the next gift out.

"Steal my GF coupons! OMG finally thank you Alex, i can finally get MY girlfriend Lily back. Guy's seriously when you next pan to her when she's in the paddock, please caption her as Lily Professional Golfer and Partner of Red Bull Driver Y/N Y/L/N. Please I'm begging you!" she laughs and the presenter writes something down on her phone.

"Thank you Alex for these amazing gifts and I will be sure to use both the coupons and the hair dye!" you grin, observing the contents of the hair dye.

"This is a good brand no? Lily must do a good job" you nod, hoping that Lily knows how to dye hair considering Alex's looked good the last time he had it done.

"Yes, its what they use for most of the KPOP Idols in Korea, you know how they dye their hair lots? This is what they use in order to keep it really nice and smooth"

*FLIP*

"Okay, here we have our all time favrioute Daniel Ricciardo, so happy to have seen you driving for AlphaTauri this year. Hopefully 2024 will be a good season for you and we can get some podiums back up there!" she smiles at Daniel who has his typical huge smile back.

"Thank you, lets get down to the real reason we are here! I want to see the presents whoever this is"

"Okay, so ooo a bike helmet. Hmmmm I've been saying to a few on the grid that i need a new one, but this is a really good brand. Okay next one" he smiles moving the bike helmet to one side.

"Ohhhh what the hell, someone has got me Talladega Nights, but they've photoshopped me into Ricky Bobby's place. Look at this. Did you guys get Jensen Button to join in this year?" he laughs showing the camera, the photoshopped version of the popular film among the drivers.

"That's really funny so i bet its got to be one of the young one. Maybe Lando? Or Y/N? or even Oscar my Aussie brother?" he says observing the disk before placing it against the bike helmet leaving it on show.

"A honey badger plushie... okay this is Y/N Lando no way would get me a plushie thats this cute" he jokes.

"Okay last one, holy shit. Do you know how the hell she managed to pull some of these gifts off?? I swear she's the actual St Nick sometimes!" he says looking at his final present. It was an envelope explaining something that you would do for him.

"So she's booked a venue, for her and Heidi in Milan to do a fashion show of my new clothes line that I’ve made in-front of anyone who wants to attend… that’s so thoughtful. Thank you Y/N I’m sure you and Heidi will look amazing on the runway! Thank you and see you on the track more next year!” He smiles.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall@sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me

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endless-ineffabilities · 10 months ago

Text

chemical override (4)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Ewan wants to clear things up about the night out and his mystery companion, and the reader gets another surprise in LA. Will the two finally have their first date or will something get in the way once more?

Ewan's publicist Donna has never had any issue with her client before. Always present and accounted for, on time for whatever interview, photoshoot or audition he has booked for the day.

But she hasn't been able to get a hold of him in the past two days, which is worrying her to no end, because he is set to meet with a major casting director in New York some time in the coming week.

Donna may have a clue as to why. It's only been two days as well since the pub incident, when The Sun ran a story speculating on Ewan's lovelife - the exact kind of thing he's always been trying to avoid.

It had taken a life of its own, with fans taking it upon themselves to track down every clue of the girl on the internet. Her instagram. Her relation to the cast - apparently she is a cousin of Luke and Elliott. Even the marketing agency where she works. Louise, a 26-year old graphic designer, admittedly harbours a crush on Ewan, and when she heard that her cousins were hanging out with him at a pub nearby, she almost immediately invited herself and her friends over.

But that's all, according to Ewan. After talking to Luke, memories of the night came rushing back to him.

Stumbling out in the alley to send you that voice message. Rejoining the boys to see that they've got new company. Being introduced to Louise, with Tom joking that he should be careful with the missus. Wouldn't want her - you - to think that he's flirting with anyone else.

Even though that's exactly what happened. Not the flirting, per se. Not from Ewan's side, at least. Louise had been brazen with admiration, barely leaving his side the rest of the night. Asking him a bunch of probing questions he had neither the interest nor the patience to answer.

They had all thought the pub was safe from prying eyes. No one approached them for anything, not even a single look of recognition followed by the question, “Are you that guy from House of the Dragon?” Unfortunately, it only takes one rat for a headline to surface. Ewan Mitchell’s mystery girl has been the talk of the fandom and Donna has been trying hard to quell the rumours.

Such is the nasty nature of the business, as she knows Ewan has quickly learned.

She dials him again, and to her surprise, the call actually patches through.

Her client's throaty voice is heard on the other line, "Hey, Donna, sorry if I've missed your calls."

"It's alright, it's alright, Ewan," Donna stammers. "Just glad to hear from you. Where are you? I've managed to do some damage control about those rumours and - "

"Oh, I'm in LA. I just landed about an hour ago," Ewan responds casually, not mirroring the stress in Donna's tone. Has he gotten over the fuss so easily?

"LA? You know your meeting is not till next week, right? And it's in New York. It's very, very important that you don't miss it, Ewan."

"And I won't," Ewan affirms, laughing dryly to console his worried publicist. "I just need to see about something over here."

Someone, he thinks. He's got his priorities straight.

"Work-related?" Donna asks, curious.

"Uhhhm," Ewan dithers, but decides against telling her about you. Not just yet. "Just visiting a friend. I'll stay here for a while then fly out to New York, don't worry."

"Okay, just keep in touch, alright? I'll send more details about the meeting soon."

"Sure thing. Thank you, Donna."

"Talk soon, Ewan. Take care of yourself."

Donna feels a huge sense of relief wash over her when the call ends, knowing the whereabouts of one of her biggest clients. But why LA? Perhaps Ewan just needed some time off after the flurry of annoying headlines put out in the UK.

Or maybe he's visiting with a friend? Who is stateside right now? Fabien's filming in Philly. The rest of the boys are still in England. But then...

Her thoughts land on the one thing - the one person - that would make him fly out on such short notice. Without giving thought to anything else, especially after the speculation on his romantic life.

Ewan's never been one to share about personal affairs, not even to his close-knit team, but no matter how reclusive he is, no one can deny the way he looks at you. The way he lights up when you're brought up in conversation. The number of times he had excused himself from their meetings to make a call, standing in the corner with a permanent smile etched on his face.

Oh, Donna knows now just who he is in LA for.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Like inevitable spectres haunting someone of his profession, Ewan noticed the papparazzi snapping away as he arrived in LA.

He told no one he would be coming, so it must be an automatic thing in the city. The photogs are always scurrying in the periphery, ready to catch anyone of note, no matter the degree of fame or notoriety.

If you were keeping up with such news, you would know he is in the city.

But according to your assistant Clara, who was kind enough to inform him of your schedule, you are still finishing up on another day of rehearsals for your upcoming rom-com. Ewan checked in the same hotel as you, planning to seek you out as soon as you arrive back from work.

He hasn't spoken to you since the voicemail, and since those false news broke out. Not that he can blame you - wouldn't anyone be suspicious of a drunken confession made by a guy who was allegedly in the company of another girl?

He hates it, being subject to all of this. This nonsense that is keeping you from him, not even worth any consequence.

But he will deal with the blows. As long as he sets things right with you. As long he gets you in the end.

He settles in his suite, getting ready to meet with you once more. He showers, shaves, tousles his hair. He even checks whether he smells decent after all of that - once, twice, and another time. Being nervous to stand in front of a crowd is one thing; it's a whole other conundrum for him finally see you again.

Maybe the crowds are more manageable, and it baffles him to realise so. He can put on a persona, be the actor, and disappear inside himself as the cameras flash bright enough for him to disassociate.

But not with you. He wants to show you everything that he is, who he truly is, and it scares him. There is no team to help him get ready now. It's all him, just Ewan.

Clad in his trusty black jeans and a comfortable hoodie of the same dark colour, he looks in the mirror one last time after receiving a text from Clara that you've arrived at the hotel about half an hour ago.

He contemplates opening the bottle of bourbon from the minibar and taking a shot of liquid courage - something to help him get his explanation ready. Just so he wouldn't stammer in front of you.

Just so you he can make you see, without any error or trace of doubt, that he meant every word in that voicemail, no matter how embarrassing it might have sounded.

He decides against it, imagining the wrinkling of your nose as you catch a whiff of the alcohol. It's cute when you do it, and he adores it so dearly, but he knows that it isn't the right moment.

He rights himself, rolls his shoulders, and he's out the door.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Jacob trails you inside your hotel suite, laughing at some shared remark about the scenes you rehearsed for the day.

They were emotionally demanding and even after tossing around ideas for hours, the two of you were unable to achieve a satisfying approach to the scenes.

Which is why he had proposed practicing well into the evening, and you found yourselves heading back to your suite together. He has his own house in LA, but your hotel just happened to be closer to the rehearsal studio.

"Care for a drink?" you asked him.

"Why the hell not?" he immediately assents in that easy, Aussie drawl. "We might need it for this shite."

You laugh in agreement, "Indeed. I've got some canned gin and tonics if that's alright.. or beer... or whiskey... " you trail off as you study the contents of your fridge.

"G and t, please, mate," he settles down on the couch, legs stretching in front of him. "We were so unproductive today. I just could not get that line right."

"Tell me about it." You hand him his drink, and he clinks it with yours with a mumbled cheers. "It was me who can't land the right tone," you say. "I mean, is my character supposed to be confused in that moment? Or angry? Or sad?"

"Or all of 'em." he shrugs. "Tricky, isn't it?"

You hurriedly fetch your script from a table, getting right down to it. "So for the first scene in the third act..."

Moments later, with cans of gin and tonic discarded on the coffee table, you and Jacob sit with legs crossed on the couch facing each other. Scripts in hand, you go through the lines over and over, with only seemingly minor tweaks each time. To an actor though, even just the slightest change of pitch or expression makes all the difference.

"Is that better? I think we almost got it," you say after a read-through.

"Yeah, so much better," he grins, holding his hand up for a high-five. Just as your hands smack in the air, another sound echoes faintly from the door.

"Someone's knocking?" Jacob asks. "You expecting anybody? Room service or anything?"

"No," you shake your head, trying to think of whether your assistant or publicist said anything about dropping by. "Maybe it's just housekeeping?"

"I'll get it," Jacob states, already padding his way to the door.

A beat later, you hear Jacob loudly exclaim, "Ewan, mate! It's good to see you!"

Ewan? A shiver runs up your spine. Craning your neck to get a view of a doorway, you catch sight of him, half-obscured by Jacob's tall frame.

Confused, surprised, and feeling some other emotion you can't pinpoint, you head over to greet him.

"How are you doing?" Jacob greets, shaking Ewan's hand, oblivious to the poorly hidden distaste in his eyes.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Ewan finds himself asking Jacob, a bit rudely, just as you ask him the same.

"What are you doing here?" you mirror his question at the exact same time.

"Oh!" Jacob breathes out a laugh, "Well, I'll go first. We were just practicing lines."

"In her room? Isn't it a bit late for rehearsal? I thought you're supposed to be off work." Ewan asks, and it sounds like an accusation. He starts to feel all kinds of uneasy - were the twins right about life imitating art?

You narrow your eyes at him. "We decided to continue running lines after rehearsal. There's a scene we can't get right. It's quite tricky - "

"Just the two of you? Alone, here?" Ewan tilts his head, gesturing towards the room like it's some forbidden place.

Jacob shakes his head, smile steady on his lips. If he's caught on to how Ewan must be feeling, he doesn't let it affect him. He gives you a look, as if to check your reaction, and you give him a reassuring shrug.

Ewan does not overlook this exchange. He clenches his jaw, irate from the assumptions popping up in his mind. Before he forgets his manners, he says, "Excuse me, I just... wasn't expecting... I just wanted to speak to you."

"I didn't even know you were in LA," you say, before moving aside to usher him in. "But I'm glad you are, of course. Come join us - "

He nods, making his way to the seating area, where he spies the discarded cans of alcohol and dog-eared scripts. Maybe he should have taken that bloody shot after all.

He laughs joylessly to himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, you guys. I just flew in today, and I must have been exhausted from the flight."

"Hey, no worries, mate," Jacob says. "You know what, I'll be on my way. Give you time to catch up and all." He picks up his own tattered script then gives you a kiss on the cheek, bidding you with a, "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, sweetheart."

If looks could kill, and if his dear mother hadn't raised him right, he would have incinerated Jacob in that moment.

He is snapped out of his thoughts when Jacob claps him on the shoulder, "Great to see you again, mate. Have a good night, eh?"

Ewan knows he's being ridiculous. There's nothing wrong with two friends and co-stars spending some time alone to rehearse. Besides, last he heard, you were adamant that you and Jacob are just friends.

So why is he being so irrational? Why does the idea of you spending more time than necessary with Jacob, possibly falling for him, bother him so much?

Ewan realises that this is what jealousy must feel like.

He's had career envy before. Another actor landing a role he vied for. Someone else getting the praise he deserves.

But nothing like this. It's petty and possessive.

He wants you to just be his.

You stand in front of him once more after you walk Jacob out of the suite.

"Hey," you say, smiling weakly.

"Hi, darling."

Both of you want to do more. Say more. Usually you would greet each other with a hug and a kiss on a cheek, his hands lingering on your forearms even after you pull away, but the air is thick with tension.

You look at him with those bright, expecting eyes of yours, and Ewan just wants to cave in and make a sloppy confession. But not after that voicemail, no. He's determined to do this right. Words not slurred, head clear.

"So I got your voicemail," you finally say, smiling coyly. "That was... something."

"Hmm," he can't help but mirror your smile, as always. "It was, wasn't it?"

"I understand," you continue, taking a step closer, "if you were drunk. We all say things when we're off it that we maybe don't mean - "

"But darling, I meant every word," he says, way too quickly.

You laugh, the sound of it erasing whatever apprehension remained in him. "Do you even remember what you said?"

"I do," he counters, moving even closer to you. Another step and he'd be able to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him. "At least, some of - no - most of it."

"Oh yeah?" you ask cheekily, aided by the effect of gin. He still has your heart racing, but a part of you now knows that the feeling is mutual. "What did you say again?"

He sees that glint in your eye, and it causes him to smirk. "Why don't I make it simple for you, darling?" He closes the distance, one hand brushing the hair from your face.

"Okay," you swallow, getting lost in his blues.

"I missed you." He kisses your cheek. "I like you. A lot." He kisses the other. "And I, uh, I would like to take you on a date."

His eyes meet yours. His voice is steady, but you notice some nervousness in his gaze. How the tables have turned. You make Ewan Mitchell's heart go awry.

"Please, darling?" he timidly adds, the sentiment so sweet you want to blurt out yes immediately. Before you can, he's already leaned back, an explanation rushing out of his lips, "And... I'm not sure but you must have seen those headlines? They're not true, I swear. We were out drinking and - "

"I know, Ewan." You cut him off with a hand pressed gently on his chest but he keeps going.

" - some other people joined us. One of them being - "

"Luke and Elliott's cousin. I know. Elliott called and told me everything."

"Oh. He called you?" A huge sense of relief washes over him, better than any comfort he might have found in a shot or three of bourbon.

"Mhmm, he called me yesterday. So, you know, you didn't really have to fly out. I was about to call you eventually."

He smiles bashfully, eyes cast down as a blush spreads across his cheeks. Damn it, Elliott, you brilliant lad. He reminds himself to treat Elliott to a pint the next time he sees him.

"I still wanted to see you," Ewan maintains, pressing a kiss to your forehead and you're immediately enveloped by the familiar comfort of his scent. Surprisingly without the staple hint of cigarette smoke, due to his frantic scrubbing after the flight.

"I'm happy you're here," you say, wrapping your arms around his waist, cheek pressed against his chest. "And no offence to Louise or anything, but she needs to learn some boundaries with my - "

Ewan looks down at you fondly, squeezing your arms to prompt your next words, "Yeah, darling? Your what?"

"My - " you attempt to bury your face in his hoodie, but he keeps your gaze with a hand cupping your jaw. So you end up saving yourself with " - my Aemond."

"Hmm," he hums, lips curling, and it's so very Aemond of him it makes you feel warm all over. "Your Aemond.Your Ewan. I'm all yours, love."

The whole thing couldn't have gone any better, all things considered, and Ewan feels content to have gotten over his first brush with the rumour mill. What matters is right in front of him, and you know the truth.

"Are you staying in this hotel? How did you even know I was here?" You take his hand, guiding him over to the couch.

"Clara," is all Ewan says by way of explanation.

"Well, thank you, Clara," you declare. Ewan shuffles closer to you and rests his arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your forehead again. The gesture is already becoming instinctive, providing the both of you with a sense of ease.

"Darling?"

"Yeah?" you respond absentmindedly, fingers toying with the soft fabric of his hoodie.

"Is that a yes?"

You exhale deeply. As if it wasn't clear enough already. "What do you think, handsome?"

"I don't know, angel. You tell me," he counters cheekily, his fingers playing with your hair as you playfully glare at him.

"What if I say no, baby?"

"Then I'll have to work hard to change your mind, princess."

"And how would you do that, honey?"

His gaze darkens, and something flashes across his blue eyes as he whispers intensely, "Use your imagination, bunny."

"Ri-right," you bite your lip, then shake your head to snap out of it. "We'll have to draw the line at bunny."

He laughs at your flustered state, pleased by the effect he has on you. "What's wrong with bunny?"

That elicits a groan out of you, but you smile anyway. "I already said yes, Ewan. Quit it with the bunny."

"Alright, beautiful," he relents, making you lean even closer against him.

The haze of gin after a long work day starts to subside and the rush of emotion is coming back to you. You find yourself gazing at Ewan in mild disbelief, in awe that he just confessed that he wants you.

Feeling antsy, you stand and pace around the room. You start tidying things, putting your scattered knick-knacks back in your handbag. If you sit with him any longer, you just might end up hurrying things through and jump his bones already, kiss him the next time he does that hmm.

"Can I get you anything?" you ask.

"No," he says smoothly. "I just need you." The words make you stop in your tracks. He still sits in the same position, looking at you with that undeniable desire in his eyes.

"Uhhhm," your mouth feels dry all of the sudden. Nothing his tongue past your lips can't fix, your intrusive thoughts barge right in. "So... the... the media rollout's still going on isn't it? Should we check and see?" You take your laptop and plop back down next to him. He doesn't miss a beat and cuddles against you once more, wrapping his arm around your tense frame.

"I think so, darling." The media rollout is how the interviews and promotional material filmed by the cast is being released gradually, on a weekly basis, after each new episode comes out.

A simple search on Youtube confirms it, and the first thing that popped up is the Where is The Lie? video you did for Elle.

It was slated for just Tom, Phia, and Ewan but your Blackwood character became such a fan-favourite that they asked you to join in. Not to mention the frenzy you and Ewan caused online with the initial interviews you did together.

"Shall we watch this?" Ewan offers, solely for the intent of seeing you in the video.

You click on it, and for the next 8 minutes or so, all you can take note of are the signs that had clearly already been there. The fans were on to something when they claimed that you and Ewan are a really good ship.

The video starts with a clip of Phia hitting her head on the overhead lamp when she stands, prompting her to uncontrollably giggle along with you and Tom. Ewan, being the exception, is beside himself with worry, and he appears to instinctively reach for your hand as you sit beside him.

"Huh," Ewan smiles, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Tom is the first to be put on the hot seat, and he slowly recites the three statements he prepared. "Ewan, pay attention," Tom blurts out when he notices that Ewan kept sneaking glances at you. "Sure, I'm locked in," Ewan says right back, as you and Phia share a look.

"What were you looking at?" you ask playfully, poking him in the side. "You seem plenty distracted there."

He snorts at himself in the video, when he ends up smiling as he caught your eye. "It was your fault. You were distracting me."

"I was not!" you exclaim. "I thought you were just being competitive then."

Phia is next to have a go. She tells you of a Wifi repellent necklace, a wrestling career, and saving a squirrel from a drainpipe. "The Wifi thing sounds like something Ewan would have," Tom jokes. "Oh sure," you concur, "except that he'd actually keep it so he can watch films." Ewan smiles at your acute observation.

"I'd also keep it to stalk your Instagram," Ewan mumbles from beside you. "And you know, just stalk you in general."

"I'm sure you do, Mitchell," you respond casually, but your face warms up anyhow.

It's Ewan's turn, and as he sits on the hot seat, you see Tom and Phia casting a look at each other then at the two of you, a secret message shared between them. "I bet she will know the answer right away," Phia says. "Yeah, how do we know the two of you didn't conspire together?" Tom asks. "Are you kidding me, you guys?" you laugh at them, thinking how silly they were being, not knowing then that they were definitely on to something.

"Darling, you have to know this," Ewan tells you specifically as you all try to guess the answer. "Oh, darling!" Tom mouths to Phia, dramatically flipping nonexistent long hair over his shoulder. Phia laughs at his antics, before nudging you and saying, "Which one is it? Which is the lie? I trust you." You respond, "Why me? You two should know this too!"

"Because I wasn't trying to date them, my love," Ewan says, smiling at the screen.

"Oh, come on now." You crane your neck up to press a soft kiss against his cheek before turning your attention back to the video. So you don't notice the switch in Ewan's breathing. The jumps in his heartbeart. The way he subtly clears his throat to deal with his flustered state.

The video comes to a close after your turn and even at the very end, Ewan can be seen admiring you as you give the closing remarks with Phia.

Admiring you, as he does in the moment.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he says, when you turn to look at him.

"Thank you," you reply softly, your voice barely audible.

Some time passes with the two of you catching up, talking about your upcoming projects, his big meeting in New York - all the while his fingers trace patterns on your exposed skin, his arm wrapped around you snugly.

"Have you been keeping up with the show?" he asks.

"The last episode I saw fully was... the second one? I got pretty busy after that. How about you?"

"Oh," he looks down in thought, piquing your curiosity, "so you didn't get to see the third episode yet then?"

"No, not yet," you shake your head, "but I've seen some stuff here and there."

He hums again and he wants to ask, have you seen his stuff? There are around a dozen or so potential jokes at play here. He has an inkling to tell you to watch the episode so you can see just what you're in for. So you can see him and all he has to offer. He'd also fumble through a justification, as he had done in some interview, about the new studio they had filmed in being cold as a fridge freezer.

What to say? What to say? He picks at some lint on his jeans, smirking to himself.

"Yeah," you eventually giggle at his obvious hesitation. "I've only seen some of the episode. But what I've seen... is enough to make me jealous of Madame Sylvie."

He stiffens, throat suddenly dry, but one look at your smile does away with his concerns.

He soon finds himself laughing, a muffled, "Oh, darling," whispered lovingly against your hair.

"That was very brave of you, Ewan," you express sincerely.

"Thank you, love."

"So... just how cold was it in there?"

Your shared, unrestrained laughter echo throughout the room.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Your first date was meant to happen the following night, but such is the nature of the job that Ewan's schedule gets moved up all of a sudden.

Once the bigshot casting director in New York found out that Ewan is already stateside, he requested that the meeting be held at the earliest possible opportunity.

He calls you while you are in rehearsals, profusely apologizing and promising to fly back to LA in the next two days, right after his meeting is all sorted.

"It's okay, Ewan," you reassure him, genuinely understanding. "I will see you when you come back. Good luck, I know you're going to smash it, whatever opportunity this is!"

"Thank you, darling," he says, already wanting to have you back in his arms already, mentally kicking himself for not kissing you when he had about a hundred chances to do so. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you too," you respond, blushing silly with the phone pressed to your ear. "But it'll only be two days."

"Hmm, doesn't matter. I need to take you on our bloody date, darling. I've already taken so damn long."

"Don't worry," you say, "I've already seen you way more than I should before the first date."

"Wha - " a protest forms on his lips, but he gets your point right away. "Oh. Clever, darling."

"I know."

"But I'm planning to give you something that's just for you. That the whole world won't ever be privy to."

You swallow hard, your very being heating up at his insinuation. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Mitchell."

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

Bonus chapter!

Nocturnal file 🤫

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @sprinklesprinkle888 @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @luckyfirebasement @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @hotdismylife @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @dracaryxzs @aemondwhoresworld @aisselasstuff

The cast's Where is The Lie? video is an actual thing! I hope yous got the reference!

Notice how the two nerve-wrecked shites didn't have their first proper kiss yet??? Will they ever?? 😩😩😩

Taglist is officially closed for this one. Please bookmark this series or the masterlist (or follow my page) to keep up with updates <3

I can't even overstate how mad all the love for this series has been! I'm always looking forward to hearing from you guys - suggestions, comments, complaints are always welcome!

See you in part five! (preview: something will happen in NY that might cause Ewan to question things!)

#ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #chemical override #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd

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power-handmaiden · 4 months ago

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Chuck Tingle interview

OK, here is the FINAL 2024 Tingles My Butt post, which I've been pretty hyped for. I still kind of can't believe this. While I was figuring out how I'd move on from 2024, @drchucktingle generously offered to answer some questions of mine to commemorate the end of my tingler project! Here they are!

-Considering that your process for tinglers is just to write it out and not stress about proofreading and editing, was it weird for you to see someone decide to go back, examine, and contemplate every single tingler published in the past decade?

the whole dang project was really wonderful for me, for exactly the reason you have just said. tinglers are very STREAM OF CONSCIOUS and only edited with one quick pass so while i think this adds to their honesty and rawness it also means that my time with them is limited. really watching someone go back through them at this depth was like reading a diary that i have not opened for many years, and it jumps around through time in a very beautiful way. it was very moving

-I love tingler character names. I personally admire how many great ones you come up with. (I never know what to name my ttrpg characters.) You just come up with all these great names that seemingly spring from nowhere, how do you do it?

DANG great question cant believe i have not been asked this before but yes there is a type of name that shows up in the tingleverse that is unusual and has a certain feeling and cadence that is very specific. if i am trotting along with sweet barbara and there is a name of a product or a place or something that has this tone we will say ‘oh thats a tingleverse name.’ the reason i wanted to do this in the books was as a very subtle way of saying these stories exist on a timeline that is RIGHT next to ours, so in some ways it is exactly the same as our world but there are these little cultural differences with things like chocolate milk and spaghetti and then with the names. you will have buckaroos like justin and sarah trotting along next to buckaroos named corb torbins-quill or borto lart.

-So, as a reader, reading from 2014 to now, old tinglers and new tinglers feel different to me. I believe you when you say tinglers have always been sincere, but they feel MORE sincere than they used to be. Like, I feel like there was some self-consciousness and irony in some of the early tinglers that you've since let go of and embraced the Chuck Tingle voice more. I don't know, am I imagining this, or does this square with your tingler writing journey? If it does, what has that process been like for you?

i think you are absolutely correct. the intention with tinglers was always to be a place for me to express myself with complete sincerity, but the practical way of HOW to trot like this took a bit of an evolution to arrive at. in other words i knew the basics, but actually refining the best way to express yourself and perform your art takes time. maybe in the same way goin back and watching season one of a tv show can feel very different from season three, even though they are part of the same expression.

similar thing happened with in my chuck PRESENTATION as well, where my main focus was to stay anonymous so the metaphors i used to talk about my life were still true but laid on much thicker. even my attire was a large gi so that you would not even be able to see my shape, which has obviously changed now because i wear suits these days. all of this was a process of starting in a place i knew was important to me and then peeling off the parts that were not helping the message or expression over time

-Is there anything you could tell us about the significance of Borson Reems? I feel like he's more than just another Buck Trungle/Chuck Tangle/etc but I'm not sure what exactly...

yes borson reems is god. not that i believe in GOD in the way that most buckaroos talk about god (i am agnostic) but within the tingleverse, borson reems is an avatar for the creator of that world. technically i am borson reems, because i am writing the books. the question is: are we all the gods of our own little worlds that we create? i do not know, but when i look around at my buds and the joy and love they bring to various timelines they sure seem like gods to me

-A lot of no-sex tinglers (especially ones that aren't romance-focused) vary in terms of plot and structure a lot more than erotic tinglers. Is your writing process for these stories any different?

same process actually, but the sex scenes in tinglers are about 1500 to 2000 words long, and total tingler length is 4000 words which means if you are not including that portion you are going to have to come up with some creative way to fill that space in the story and a new axis for story to turn on. so the variety comes from me getting creative and trying out different axis points

-In "Not Pounded By My Book "Pounded In The Butt By My Non-Fungible Tingler That Is Literally This NFT" Because Of The Current Catastrophic Environmental And Ethical Impact" there are references to an earlier draft of the story that was never released because you ended up disagreeing with the message. Are there any other tinglers that never got finished and/or published, if you'd be willing to talk about any of them?

oh this is a VERY good question. the story of the NFT tingler is that when buckaroos were first talkin on nfts online and nobody really knew what they were, my first thoughts were just ‘oh this is interesting what the heck is this?’ this is my way with most CURRENT EVENTS. and i thought ‘this would be an interesting tingler, i suppose maybe i should make the tingler an ACTUAL nft’. this was in VERY early days so i did not really even understand what an nft was (neither did 99 percent of buckaroos yet honestly). so i looked into it just enough to actually MAKE a nft tingler that was a real nft and put it out. lasted for about thirty seconds before buckaroos were messaging saying ‘oh this is bad chuck you should look into what this is’ and i DID look into it and thought’ oh yeah this is terrible nevermind’. i took down the original and thought ‘well THIS is what art is all about. this is where i thrive in a world of moving living art that is in communication with itself’. so i dove into the research and actually started to understand NFTS and then i repurposed the story into a strongly anti-nft tingler and put that on out instead.

as far as OTHER tinglers that kind of move and breathe and live like this, in communication with the audience, GAY T-REX LAW FIRM is another very good example. that one i wrote early on and i think it was kind of in the model of something like fifty shade of grey, where issues of kink and consent and communication are not really handled well. i think at the time it came out the story was okay, but as time went on it always kind of bothered me and finally i thought ‘i love art that exists in the REAL WORLD and changes and evolves, so lets rewrite that story and fix some of these mistakes.’ honestly it is something i wish more artists would be open to. its okay to let something hold strong against a changing timeline, but it is also okay to explore what its like to take the notes that time gives us

-This one is about Chuck Tingle that exists in deeper layers of the Tingleverse that operate on tingler logic: what does the location inside his/your butt look like?

probably a nice mid-century modern home up in laurel canyon neighborhood of los angeles. kind of quiet and small like a cabin but also very cozy, like the kind of place where you would put on a crosby stills nash and young record on vinyl and gaze out into the woods for a while then walk down the hill for dinner at a little cafe where you spot some actor from a 60s tv show also having dinner in the corner booth. this basically sounds like the start of a tingler and in that tingler i will say the actor would be a bigfoot.

-OK this one is very self-indulgent but if you could help settle this frequent point of discussion I have with my wife- where do the following fit in the Tingleverse bigfoot/dinosaur/unicorn/living object(/human/does not apply?) taxonomy?

-a ghost of a regular human

-a regular human vampire

-a human/fish mermaid

-a sentient winged horse

-a sentient centipede large enough to wrap around a mountain several times (she is handsome)

alright lets trot through these. a GHOST is not one of the four tingle types so you can have a ghost racecar or a ghost unicorn or a ghost bigfoot. ghosts are outside of the four types and do not have a classification

a VAMPIRE is also outside of the four types. so you can have a vampire bigfoot or, of course, a vampire night bus. does not strictly fall into any of the four main categories

MERMAIDS are technically a long lost species of unicorn I DONT MAKE THE RULES I JUST EXPLAIN THEM. this makes the MERMOPED tingler a little confusing but i had to pick a category and that one went into living object. now that i mention it possibly the only tingler that is technically a double category of unicorn/living object.

WINGED HORSE is easy, thats a pegasus which is a species of unicorn just like a mermaid

a SENTIENT CENTIPEDE LARGE ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND A MOUNTAIN is an ancient creature, therefore dinosaur tingler

-My other self-indulgent question: do you have a favorite bug? (Or second-favorite if you count Mothman as a bug)

i love finding spiders in the house and giving them a pet because they are doing a good job livin their lives doin their thing. close second would be a pretty ladybug

-Any thoughts on what tinglers will be like in 2025? Do you expect to be writing a lot of political tinglers again, like post-2016?

honestly i really do not like writing specifically political tinglers anymore, and the amount that i write has gradually dropped over time (i think ALL tinglers are political but in a different way). so honestly i think i will write a few political tinglers but not many. my hypothesis on this is that my HORROR NOVELS are very very political and so maybe i get a lot of these ideas out of my system that way now. when it comes to tinglers i just wanna explore my OWN mind and heart and butt more

THANK YOU for these wonderful questions and thank you for your tingler-a-day project it was so moving and powerful. what a treat it was an honor to be a part of something so beautiful. THIS PROVES LOVE IS REAL

#chuck tingle #2024 tingles my butt

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the-cosmic-cauldron · 4 months ago

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☹︎𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕊𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟 ℙ𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 & 𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕃𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕘𝕘𝕝𝕖 ☹︎

Welcome to 10 Days, 10 Posts from The Cosmic Cauldron! Over the next ten days, I’ll be sharing a blend of astrology and tarot posts, each designed to spark your curiosity and guide your journey. If you find my content interesting, fascinating, or engaging, be sure to click the follow button for more! Ready to dive deeper into your personal journey? Head to my homepage and book a reading — you won’t regret it.

1️⃣🏠

People with Saturn in the first house often face struggles when it comes to self-expression, and these challenges can start at a young age. They may feel stifled when interacting with others, finding it difficult to connect. They could be shy, reserved, and experience stage fright or fear of being seen, leading them to hide away or blend in to avoid standing out. These individuals may feel embarrassed over small things that others don’t find embarrassing and often struggle with self-esteem, especially concerning how their peers perceive them.

There may have been negative feedback from peers during their formative years—perhaps they were seen as misfits, or maybe they grew up in poverty, wearing worn or tattered clothing that led to teasing. Physical traits like a noticeable birthmark or speech impediment could also make them feel self-conscious. They may have had a difficult time expressing their true selves, especially if they grew up in a strict or religious household that suppressed their individuality. In such environments, parents may have overlooked their true identity, expecting them to conform to rigid rules and regulations, even down to what they wore.

As they get older, these struggles can continue, making it hard to perform in job interviews or communicate effectively. There may be anxiety surrounding talking about themselves, explaining their ideas, or simply interacting in social situations. Insecurity can create a sense of difficulty in finding their true identity, and it may take longer for them to discover who they are and how they want to express themselves to the world. Throughout life, they may go through phases of changing their identity based on their environment or the expectations placed on them, but a true sense of self-expression may not fully ground until later in life.

In some cases, they may face gossip or backlash, with rumors or false information being spread about them. This can lead to feelings of isolation and avoidance of the world. Saturn in the first house can make them prone to hiding away, avoiding being seen, and struggling to show up authentically. One of their biggest challenges can be figuring out who they are and how to express that to others. There may also be a lack of clarity or confidence in their communication, and they might struggle with fear and hesitation, preventing them from stepping up and achieving their goals. This fear of being seen and fear of success can hold them back from truly embracing their potential.

2️⃣🏠

With Saturn in the second House, your background may not matter; struggles with resources can occur in any situation. Perhaps you were the child who wasn’t given the same gifts or attention as others. Maybe you were mistreated or isolated when it came to things like getting new clothes, or you wore hand-me-downs while your siblings received new clothes. You may have felt neglected when it came to basic needs, such as having lunch packed by your parents, and perhaps you received less food than others. Financial struggles may have been present in your family, leading to a constant feeling of restriction around resources. You might have wanted something that your parents couldn’t afford, or you wanted to do something, but there were financial limitations. There were often restrictions on what you could get or where your family could obtain these resources.

This could also manifest in a strict religious household, where the rules were heavily focused on aligning with religious practices. You might have felt like you couldn’t do much because your parents were focused on enforcing those rules. Perhaps you were forced to follow a religion that didn’t resonate with you, but instead felt oppressive, suppressing your authenticity.

Economic struggles might have been a significant part of your experience, causing you to work early or take a job at a young age in order to get the things you wanted. If your parents couldn’t afford them, you had to find your own way to earn money. You may have taken physically demanding jobs, working long hours and coming home tired and exhausted. There could have been a constant struggle for financial freedom, with restrictions surrounding money. You may have felt like money was difficult to come by, or that you couldn’t utilize it in the way you wanted.

This placement can also bring fears or inhibitions around money. You may hold on to it too tightly, becoming possessive or frugal, and struggle with spending or giving money away. There may be a belief that giving money to others brings karmic consequences or that it isn’t beneficial. This can make you hesitant to share your resources with others, leading to stinginess.

Overall, Saturn in the second House can cause someone to feel fearful or restricted when it comes to money and resources. It might take years for them to feel financially secure or successful, and even longer to feel that they have the resources to live comfortably.

3️⃣🏠

With Saturn in the Third House, you may have a difficult relationship with your siblings. Perhaps your siblings were more popular or received more attention than you, or maybe you felt like a misfit among them, with personalities that didn’t seem to match. This could have made you feel isolated from your family, like the black sheep growing up, as though you didn’t quite fit in.

This placement can also indicate struggles in communication, which might affect your relationships. You could have difficulty expressing yourself in the way you want or feel unheard when you speak. There might be issues such as a speech impediment, or you could be a fast talker or talk very slowly. These challenges could extend to reading and processing information, particularly with concentration. You might have struggled to focus in school, feeling fidgety or getting in trouble for talking in class. Early on, you may have found it hard to keep up with your peers academically. Perhaps you had a learning disability or had difficulty understanding the curriculum. You might have needed extra help, such as tutors, and struggled with completing homework. A lack of support from your community might have hindered your progress in school.

You may have grown up in a difficult community environment, surrounded by people facing financial hardship, substance abuse, deceitful behavior, or violence. These challenges could have also occurred within your own home, such as constant arguments between your parents. These experiences might have affected how you communicate—either making you more aggressive in your speech or causing you to shut down when others raise their voices. You may have had issues with neighbors, such as disputes that involved police intervention. Perhaps a childhood friend passed away early, or it took your family a long time to find a stable, safe living environment.

As you grew older, learning may have remained a struggle. You could have been a slower learner or had difficulty picking up new skills quickly. It might have taken you longer than others in the same field to achieve success or recognition. You may have found it challenging to get your ideas across, and it may take time for you to refine your thoughts and your communication style. Learning to communicate in a way that works for you may have been a long process, as you refined your thinking and practiced expressing yourself in ways that served you best.

All of these struggles and obstacles in your early life could have shaped you, and as you get older, you may need to find ways to learn and communicate that align with your unique needs, allowing you to digest information and refine your skills at your own pace.

4️⃣🏠

With Saturn in the 4th house, there can be significant restrictions when it comes to your home life. Perhaps your home never felt like a place of comfort, and you may have felt that you had to suppress many aspects of yourself just to exist around your family. You might have grown up with strict parents who adhered to rigid rules and regulations, imposing disciplinary measures to ensure you followed the path they set for you. This left little room for creativity or pursuing your own desires. You may have felt that your parents were fixated on success and results, unable to love and accept you for who you were, which may have led to a tendency toward perfectionism and high performance later in life.

It’s also possible that your family comes from a lineage with strict adherence to religious rules, laws, or regulations. Many of your ancestors may have struggled with living freely, often being controlled either by external forces or by family members restricting their independence. This placement could indicate a father who was particularly disciplinary and emotionally distant. He may not have allowed you to express yourself emotionally, and the mother could have also been dismissive of your feelings, not understanding why you felt the way you did.

The environment at home might have been very serious, with little room for lightheartedness. Your parents could have been overly serious, impeding your fun and creativity, leaving you feeling unsupported and as though your home was not a place of comfort. You might have grown up in a house that felt uncomfortable—perhaps a dirty or cluttered home, or one where basic needs, like a bed, food, or electricity, were lacking.

This could translate into a pattern of feeling restricted and dependent on your family as an adult. You might find it frustrating, as if you can’t escape your family no matter how hard you try, always being drawn back in. There are likely many lessons to learn within the family dynamic, but there may also be cycles of dysfunction and toxicity that remain unresolved for a long time. It may feel like an uphill battle, and you might feel the need to distance yourself from your family, only to be pulled back in due to circumstances such as a sick family member, like a grandmother or parent, who needs your support.

As you age, security will become a major focus for you, and you may find yourself stressed about creating your own family. Some individuals with this placement experience fertility issues, such as hormonal imbalances, PCOS, or endometriosis, which can affect their ability to start their own family. Others might feel isolated and alone at times, feeling disconnected from their family or even being abandoned or neglected. This can lead to challenges in dealing with these feelings, whether you are the one ghosting your family or experiencing neglect from them.

5️⃣🏠

With Saturn in the Fifth House, growing up, there could have been themes around pleasure that were restricted. Perhaps there was a taboo surrounding your ability to enjoy yourself, or your parents didn’t fully support your enjoyment. There might have been periods where fun and enjoyment were encouraged, followed by times that were strict, boring, and full of struggle. It was never consistent, and fun couldn’t be maintained.

This placement could also suggest restrictions when it came to exploring your creativity as a child. If you were interested in things like music, art, or photography, you might not have had the support or resources to pursue these interests. Your environment may not have been conducive to creative exploration, and you may have had to find ways to support yourself in pursuing these activities on your own.

Saturn in the Fifth House can also indicate delayed sexual experiences. You might have lost your virginity later in life or had delayed or restricted sexual experiences. Even if you had sexual experiences earlier, it may have taken you a while to fully enjoy them and feel comfortable in your body. You may have struggled to connect with your sexual pleasure until later in life.

People with this placement may also feel that they don’t have much luck in life. It can feel as though things never go the way you want, and you might experience a streak of bad luck. Additionally, you may have struggled with finances, making it difficult to afford entertainment. Perhaps your family could only afford simple activities, like going to a diner or enjoying occasional, inexpensive outings, and you cherished these memories because they weren’t consistent.

Saturn in the Fifth House could also point to challenges with having children. It might take you longer to conceive, or you may experience difficult pregnancies. For some, pregnancies can be long and challenging, leading to health complications or requiring extra responsibility. If you do have children, motherhood may initially be a difficult and frustrating experience. It could take time to adjust, and you might face depression and struggles to meet your own standards as a mother.

Furthermore, this placement can make it hard to express yourself through art. You may have a perfectionist mindset when it comes to creative work, making it difficult to bring your artistic vision to life. Even if you have natural talent, it might take a long time to refine your skills. You might be a great singer, but your recordings don’t showcase your full ability. You could be an excellent artist, but it may take time to create work that resonates with others or meets your own standards. There could be a disconnect between the art you envision in your mind and the art you’re able to produce in reality.

6️⃣🏠

With Saturn in the Sixth House, you may have felt that your lifestyle growing up was restricted compared to what you envisioned or would have liked. Perhaps you were outcast in your school setting, or your life was different from your peers. For some people, this placement may indicate growing up with a single mother or father, or experiencing the loss of a parent early on, leading you to be raised in an adopted family or foster care. You could have had a different lifestyle than others, such as being raised by an LGBTQIA couple, or being the only Black person in an all-White school, or the only White person in an all-Black school. Your upbringing likely felt distinct from that of your peers.

This placement could also suggest that you matured faster than others due to the heavy responsibilities placed on you from an early age. You might have cared for a parent, grandparent, or another family member, or you may have been the sibling responsible for looking after others. This could mean that you had to play the role of a parent while your parents worked or were otherwise occupied. Early on, you may have had many responsibilities—your name might have been put on bills, and you may have been expected to help make money or assist with household tasks. You might have had an excessive number of chores compared to other children your age, or your parents might have enrolled you in various activities, leaving little room for relaxation or exploration. Your routine was likely very structured, with little time to simply be a kid, have fun, or imagine. You could have been constantly moving from school to extracurricular activities like piano practice, and felt that you had little room to pursue things you enjoyed.

As a child, you may have had a parent who imposed strict dietary restrictions or even tried to make you lose weight in unhealthy ways. Your body could have been a topic of constant discussion, leading you to feel uncomfortable with your physical appearance. Weight fluctuations could have been a source of stress, perhaps with periods of being very skinny or gaining weight unexpectedly. You might have been bullied for your background or lifestyle, especially if your appearance highlighted the differences in your life compared to others.

This placement can also indicate health issues during childhood. You may have experienced frequent pain, such as leg pain, earaches, or stomach issues. There could have been a pattern of breaking bones or visiting the doctor often. You might have had allergies, asthma, or another chronic condition that kept you in and out of medical offices. There could have also been health issues within your family, such as a parent who developed a serious illness, like cancer from smoking. Access to proper healthcare might have been a struggle, and there may have been difficulties getting the right diagnoses or treatments.

As you grew older, you might have struggled to figure out what you truly wanted to pursue in life. You may have sacrificed your own dreams to meet your parents’ expectations or follow their advice. School could have taken up much of your time, with a heavy focus on getting good grades, entering a prestigious college, and securing a good job. Your time in school might have been marked by setbacks, like not getting into the college you wanted and having to settle for another. Once in college, you may have had to support yourself financially, working while studying. Even after entering the workforce, it may have taken a long time for you to find stability. Work might have been demanding, with long hours, overtime, and slow progress in terms of promotions or raises. Balancing work and life could have been challenging, and you may have struggled to establish a healthy work-life balance, often feeling overwhelmed by the demands of your career.

7️⃣🏠

For people with Saturn in the 7th house, they may have grown up without witnessing healthy partnerships. Their parents may have been separated at a young age, divorced, or simply not gotten along. The partnership between their parents might have felt detached or distant, lacking a close connection. Growing up, they might have felt more connected to one parent than the other, but even that parent could have been distant or inconsistent. There could have been a difficult relationship with the parent they felt closest to—perhaps that parent was absent or hard to connect with, and communication was limited or restricted. Despite yearning for a closer bond, they might not have felt confident around that parent.

This placement can also suggest challenges with early childhood relationships. These individuals might have struggled to get along with peers, facing dislike or issues from others for no apparent reason. Their personality or simply their existence may have caused people to distance themselves, gossip negatively about them, or have unexplainable conflicts. There may have been a strange relationship with their parents, characterized by moments of closeness followed by challenging periods where they didn’t get along, leading to a loss of connection. Parents may have expected a lot from them, and they might have struggled to meet those expectations, feeling as though they failed in their parents’ eyes.

Growing up, there may have been a strong connection with one person—whether a friend or romantic interest—but that connection could have been short-lived. The person they were close to might have moved away, or they may have experienced rejection from people they had crushes on. They could have placed a lot of importance on relationships, wanting something long-term, but it may have been difficult for them to maintain such relationships. As a teenager, they might have taken relationships seriously, seeking commitment, but those relationships were often challenging and lacked excitement. The partner may have introduced restrictions in their life, such as influencing their diet or encouraging unhealthy habits, like starving themselves or going on restrictive diets. These relationships may have been limiting, making it hard for them to pursue their own interests and goals.

It can be difficult for these individuals to view relationships in a healthy light because they often feel that relationships restrict their freedom. They may struggle to maintain healthy connections, meeting people they bond with but quickly losing those connections due to various obstacles. It may take a long time for them to form solid, committed relationships. Even long-term friendships may go through rocky periods, with falling outs or conflicts of interest, leading to isolation. They may often feel distant from others, craving connection but struggling to feel truly connected.

These individuals may also hold onto toxic relationships because they deeply value connection, even if the relationship is unhealthy. They might attract people who are transactional, coming around only to take advantage of their kindness without offering genuine love or reciprocity. Additionally, they may struggle with their own identity, often absorbing the behaviors of those around them rather than forming their own sense of self. This can make it hard for them to distinguish who they truly are, as they are highly influenced by their environment and tend to mimic the people they are around.

Their friendships can have a significant impact on their lives, often turning sour and causing negative outcomes when they are surrounded by the wrong people. They may be more prone to being in abusive or controlling relationships, where their partner demands a lot of them or imposes strict rules. These relationships can feel restrictive and stifle their freedom. Overall, individuals with Saturn in the 7th house may struggle to maintain healthy relationships with their parents, friends, and romantic partners. They might find themselves attracting people who dislike them for no apparent reason, or they might experience conflicts that arise from their inability to establish a strong, independent identity. It can take time for them to develop a clear sense of self and build healthy, balanced relationships.

8️⃣🏠

For people with Saturn in the 8th house, childhood may have been marked by financial instability or parental debt. Their parents might have owed a lot of money, frequently borrowed funds, or engaged in frivolous spending, such as using shopping as emotional therapy. This pattern may have created a household dynamic where financial struggles were a persistent issue. In some cases, the family may have faced a cycle of accruing and repaying debt, leaving a lasting impression on the individual.

There may have also been tension and resentment between the parents. Their relationship could have been characterized by intense highs and lows—a love-hate dynamic where unresolved emotions created a palpable sense of unease. The individual likely felt this tension but couldn’t always pinpoint its source. Resentment may have extended to other family relationships, such as a mother harboring issues with her own mother or a strained relationship between the parents and in-laws. These unresolved emotional issues likely created an environment where the person felt unable to fully trust or relax, contributing to a lifelong sense of distrust in their surroundings.

In some cases, this placement indicates a single parent, often a mother, who took on the bulk of financial and emotional responsibilities. If both parents were present, one may have shouldered most of the burden while the other contributed little, either emotionally or financially. Alternatively, the family may have been traditional, with one parent working and the other staying home. Regardless of the family dynamic, financial strain was likely a recurring theme.

Inheritance and family finances might also have played a complex role in their life. Money or assets intended for them may have been withheld, contested, or difficult to access due to family disputes or hidden information. They may have discovered an inheritance only later in life or had to fight to claim what was rightfully theirs. These challenges further reinforce feelings of distrust and frustration surrounding money and familial connections.

Emotional dynamics within the household were likely complicated, with unresolved trauma or secrets impacting the individual deeply. For instance, they may have been dragged into their parents’ toxic relationship, which could have included infidelity, secret affairs, or hidden resentments. This could lead to feelings of vulnerability and confusion about their emotional environment, resulting in a lifelong struggle to trust others and fully open up.

As adults, individuals with Saturn in the 8th house often crave deep, intimate connections but find them challenging to establish or maintain. They may experience fleeting or surface-level relationships, particularly ones centered around physical intimacy without emotional depth. Even when they find someone they deeply connect with, obstacles may arise, such as emotional unavailability, trust issues, or toxic dynamics. They may fear vulnerability, and when they do open up, they risk being taken advantage of, which can make trust even harder to rebuild.

Trust issues often extend to their finances and relationships. They might experience difficulties managing money, feeling perpetually in debt or struggling to get ahead financially. Relationships may exacerbate this, as partnerships could lead to financial losses or feelings of restriction. It may take significant time and effort to achieve financial stability or escape the cycle of debt.

Sexuality and intimacy can also be challenging areas. They may feel uncomfortable expressing their sexuality openly or struggle to balance their desires with emotional vulnerability. While they may feel at ease with more casual or physical expressions of intimacy, being deeply sentimental and romantic can be difficult. This often stems from a fear of rejection or exploitation, causing them to hold back in intimate relationships.

Trauma and emotional pain from the past can linger for a long time, making healing a slow and challenging process. Individuals with Saturn in the 8th house may find themselves stuck in cycles of pain, unable to move past early experiences of hurt or betrayal. Progressing toward emotional healing and trust may take years of effort, but with perseverance, they can learn to transform these difficulties into strength and resilience.

9️⃣🏠

With Saturn in the 9th house, it could feel like you grew up in a household where you lacked the freedom to explore your own beliefs. Religious or philosophical systems may have been imposed on you, leaving little room for self-discovery. Your parents may have tried to suppress parts of your identity, including your sexuality, using strict or dogmatic belief systems. In some cases, this could have led to emotional abuse or mistreatment justified by their rigid ideologies.

Your parents might not have had much education themselves. They could have been immigrants or individuals who didn’t complete high school, which may have made it challenging for them to find stable employment. As a result, your family may have faced frequent moves, evictions, or an inability to maintain a consistent home. This instability could mean that “home” was never a fixed or secure place for you.

Growing up, you might have been taken everywhere your parents went because they couldn’t afford childcare, babysitters, or after-school programs. This could have exposed you to adult themes or environments that weren’t suited for a child, leaving you feeling out of place or uncomfortable. Additionally, your parents may have engaged in unconventional spiritual practices that felt unusual or unsettling, even to your younger self.

Alternatively, your parents could have been overly focused on their own studies or careers. They may have been teachers, full-time workers pursuing higher education, or simply drained from their own academic or professional responsibilities. This likely left them with little energy or time to be present with you in the way you needed.

As you grow older, you may find traveling to be a source of fear or discomfort. You might avoid flying, boats, or long-distance travel due to anxiety, motion sickness, or a lack of resources, such as time or money. These challenges can make it difficult to explore the world freely, even if you have the desire to do so.

In terms of education, pursuing higher learning might feel like an uphill battle. You may struggle in college due to financial stress, balancing work and studies, or the rigorous nature of your chosen degree. This placement can lead to delays or setbacks in completing your education.

When it comes to your spiritual or philosophical beliefs, you might find yourself questioning and exploring for a long time before settling on a path that resonates with you. You may dabble in different religions or spiritual practices, unsure of where you truly belong. This indecision could also extend to other areas of life, leaving you feeling aimless or uncertain about your purpose.

People with Saturn in the 9th house may initially have a restricted worldview, struggling to be open-minded or appreciative of alternative perspectives. You may cling to what you believe is “right” and have difficulty accepting other viewpoints. Over time, however, life experiences can help you develop a broader understanding and a more open mindset.

This placement can also make it challenging to assert yourself or stand up for your beliefs. You might avoid confrontation, finding it difficult to advocate for yourself or others. As a result, you may come across as meek or overly cautious. This struggle to assert your beliefs and values could lead to a lack of confidence and a sense of being ungrounded.

It may take time and effort for you to find your purpose and direction in life. You might go through a period of trial and error, experimenting with different jobs, living situations, relationships, or belief systems before discovering what truly resonates with you. Building self-belief and confidence will likely be a gradual process, but it is one that ultimately leads to growth and stability.

1️⃣0️⃣🏠

With Saturn in the 10th house, you may have grown up with a mother who was very strict and focused on discipline. She might have cared more about the family’s outward image than its internal dynamics. Both parents, or just your mother, could have been highly image-oriented, creating a façade of perfection in public while chaos brewed behind the scenes. This dichotomy might have led to mixed messages and conflicting expectations. For instance, your mother could have presented herself one way in public but acted entirely differently at home, making it difficult for you to connect with her authentically.

This dynamic could have fostered fear or unease in your relationship with your mother. You may have been afraid of her actions or reactions, creating emotional distance and preventing a nurturing, close bond. This strained relationship likely extended to your father or other parental figures as well, making it hard to form meaningful connections with either parent.

Your parents may have been preoccupied with their careers, public image, or social status, leaving little time to attend to your emotional needs. They might have prioritized establishing themselves professionally or maintaining a certain reputation, neglecting their role at home. This could have resulted in long periods where you didn’t see your parents due to their work obligations. Alternatively, your family might have had a reputation of its own—positive or negative. For some, this could have meant your parents were known for being abusive, dysfunctional, or involved in toxic relationships. There might have even been a public exposure of the struggles within your family, shattering the carefully maintained image and revealing the truth to the outside world.

Additionally, one or both parents may have been in transactional, image-driven relationships rather than loving ones. Even if they separated or remarried, their partnerships might have seemed more like professional arrangements than genuine emotional connections. This could have left you feeling like a secondary concern in their lives, with your needs overlooked in favor of their image or goals.

Your parents might have imposed their image-conscious values on you as well. They may have dictated how you should look, dress, or behave to fit their standards, leaving little room for you to explore your identity. For example, they might have pressured you to lose weight or maintain a specific appearance. Failure to meet these expectations might have led to conflict, making you feel as though you always had to play a role that didn’t align with your authentic self.

As you grew older, these dynamics may have contributed to struggles with self-image and public perception. You could have experienced bullying or judgment from others, whether for your appearance, behavior, or a reputation based on false rumors. Publicly, you might have gone through several phases of self-reinvention, experimenting with different looks or personas to figure out how you want to be seen by the world.

Career-wise, Saturn in the 10th house often brings delays and challenges. You may struggle to find your purpose, try out different jobs, or face difficulties achieving success even when you work hard. It might feel like others are rewarded more easily for less effort, while your accomplishments go unrecognized. You could also experience periods of underemployment, low wages, or stagnation in your career, with a slow climb to the success you desire.

If you become a parent, Saturn in the 10th house might also influence your role as a mother or father. You may struggle with the demands of parenting while trying to maintain a positive public image, much like your own parents did. Behind closed doors, you might face challenges in balancing your relationships and parenting responsibilities, with your children potentially noticing the strain. This placement encourages you to work through these difficulties and build a more authentic and fulfilling life, rather than repeating the patterns of your upbringing.

1️⃣1️⃣🏠

With Saturn in the 11th house, you may have grown up with restrictions around friendships. Your parents could have been very strict, not allowing sleepovers or playdates, which meant your friendships were limited to school, and you didn’t have the freedom you desired to hang out with friends outside of that environment. You may have felt like you could only attract a certain type of friend, and it might have been difficult to meet people who shared your interests. You might have spent time with misfit children or those who didn’t have many friends, longing for a friend with whom you could genuinely bond but feeling unable to find that connection.

Additionally, you could have faced challenges related to your community growing up. For example, you may have lived in a violent or unsafe neighborhood, or a community that had legal issues or struggled with maintaining safety and stability. These struggles could have made you feel isolated or disconnected from others.

You may have also had big dreams or ambitions, but felt shy or unsure about how to pursue them. As a result, you might have withdrawn from opportunities or not gone after what you really wanted. This could have made you feel like the “loner” or the person who hung out with people you didn’t truly connect with. You may have struggled to find your footing or felt misunderstood, and it took time to figure out who you truly were.

When you got older, you may have experienced issues with your friendships. These could have included drama, gossip, or feeling like the person at the bottom of the group dynamic. There might have been periods when you didn’t have any friends at all, or felt left out. Sometimes your friendships may have been filled with tension, even to the point of physical altercations, or your friends might have turned on you.

As an adult, it could be harder for you to make new friends or build relationships. You may have anxiety about meeting new people or struggle with communication, making it difficult to get relationships off the ground. You might also have trust issues, finding it hard to open up or connect with others. This hesitation could make you prefer being a loner rather than engaging with larger groups.

You might find it challenging to feel grounded in friendships as you get older, experiencing periods of loneliness or disconnection. You may long to be part of a niche group or community that shares your interests, but feel reserved or anxious about approaching others. You might find it easier to connect with people online, forming virtual friendships rather than in-person ones. Physical distance can sometimes make it harder to form real-life friendships, leading to a disconnect between your online social life and your real-world interactions.

This struggle to find acceptance might lead to feelings of isolation, and you may feel misunderstood or like people don’t truly get you. You might crave a group that lifts you up and allows you to be your authentic self. However, there can be a sense that your dreams and aspirations are hindered by self-doubt or by others who doubt you. This internal struggle could make it hard for you to follow through on your goals, as you may lack the drive or confidence to execute your ideas.

In some cases, you may have big ideas, but translating them into practical, achievable plans can be difficult. Public speaking might be a challenge for you, or you may struggle to network or make connections for career opportunities. Navigating the professional world, particularly corporate or conventional job environments, could be difficult, and you might prefer unconventional career paths. However, there may be struggles related to employment gaps or financial instability, making it harder to move forward in your desired career.

Overall, Saturn in the 11th house suggests a pattern of challenges when it comes to forming relationships, pursuing your goals, and making your aspirations a reality. You may need to work through these difficulties in order to find your people, overcome self-doubt, and take practical steps toward manifesting your dreams.

1️⃣2️⃣🏠

With Saturn in the 12th house, you may have experienced challenges growing up, particularly related to your parents or extended family members who struggled with mental health issues. These issues could have been undiagnosed or diagnosed, and navigating relationships with one or more of these family members may have been difficult. There might have been cover-ups regarding mental health, so, for example, your parents could have had mental health struggles that they didn’t discuss, leaving you confused about their behavior until later in life.

You might have also experienced feelings of being avoided or ignored, which could have negatively impacted your self-esteem. Growing up, you may have felt isolated and struggled with low self-esteem. Your parents might have been very strict, perhaps expecting you to go to school and come home without much outside of that routine, which could have felt restrictive and confining. As a result, you might have felt like you were living in a “prison” and lacked the freedom to enjoy your childhood. You may have had to escape into your imagination because you didn’t feel like you had the chance to experience childhood in a typical way.

Additionally, your childhood might have been confusing, and you could have struggled with clarity around your experiences. There may have been trauma that you haven’t fully processed yet, and it might be difficult for you to unpack it. You could have a fear of confronting or re-experiencing these memories, which could make it harder for you to heal.

In school, you may have felt different or isolated. It could have been challenging for you to fit in, and you may have struggled to focus or grasp concepts. You might have been a daydreamer or found it difficult to stay on top of your work. You may have required extra assistance, such as tutoring or special education classes, or had difficulty keeping up with homework and grades due to procrastination.

As you got older, it may have been unclear what you wanted to pursue in the future, and many aspects of your life could have felt blurred. You might have struggled to find grounding in spirituality, particularly if you felt conflicted between the religion or spirituality you grew up with and what you truly believed. Despite researching different religions and spiritual practices, you may not have felt a strong connection to any of them.

It could take you a long time to see tangible results in your life. You may spend a lot of time in your head, overthinking, and struggling to take practical steps toward your goals. It might be challenging for you to focus and concentrate on things that lead to tangible outcomes. You may have worked low-wage jobs or had difficulty holding down stable employment. Relationships with others might also be challenging, as you may tend to self-isolate or feel disconnected from people due to having different experiences.

Despite these struggles, this placement offers valuable lessons in self-discovery and personal growth. You may spend much of your life in soul-searching, often feeling like a self-sacrificer who puts others before yourself, possibly even being a people pleaser. It may take a long time for you to assert yourself and prioritize your own needs. There could be a theme of feeling like you must go along with others, and it may be a long journey before you establish your own identity and begin to take action on your behalf.

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hellotailor · 7 months ago

Note

Apologies if you've already done a post on this and I've just missed it, but can I ask for your take on the pyjamas worn by the cast of interview with vampire? I mean technically they're not a 100% necessary item, but just from a quick look there seems to be a lot of variety and they do change over the series

ok, i’m delighted by the specificity of this question, and it turns out that i have a VERY extensive answer.

there’s a lot of sleepwear in IWTV due to the volume of bedroom/coffin scenes, and like any other outfit, these costumes are shaped by characterization and historical period. for instance claudia initially wears a long, modest, frilly nightgown - an old-fashioned style that plays into her girlish doll wardrobe purchased by louis and lestat. however her sleepwear matures over the years, including a trendy lace nightdress with bloomers in the 1920s (note the rectangular silhouette), and a pink padded jacket/pastel robe outfit in 1940s paris. she's following contemporary trends while charting a visible trajectory from child to adult.

when i wrote about the Théâtre des Vampires coven costumes, i noted that while their wardrobes share certain themes (ie. monochrome patterns and stripes), they each have specific personal tastes. that holds true for sleepwear. in the S2 finale we see the coven going to bed in their coffins, with Eglee in a gorgeous (maybe 1940s?) robe, Celeste in a striped pajama suit reflecting her 1920s-30s cabaret style, and Armand in a plain grey set of prison jammies because he's Suffering.

of course, the star pajama outfits all belong to Louis and Lestat, playing into their wealthy domestic aesthetic in S1. they receive multiple bedroom/coffin scenes, and Lestat's gold Leyendecker robe is obviously iconic.

touching on the historical side of things for a moment, pajamas (as in a matching buttondown top and loose pants) were popularized in the western world in the 19th century, as a repurposed south asian import - kind of like how banyans became trendy among the upper classes in 18th century england. this was when loungewear started to catch on as a concept, both in terms of dressing gowns and smoking jackets (which you could wear while socializing at home) and actual pajamas, which became unisex in the 1920s.

back in his human life in the 18th century, Lestat probably slept naked or wore a shapeless white nightgown (and possibly a nightcap, the sexiest of garments). but in New Orleans he adopts Louis' lifestyle, which involves a luxurious wardrobe of fashionable menswear. they're both into shopping and looking good, and i think they enjoy the ritual of getting dressed together each night.

(i also have a personal theory that Lestat may prefer to sleep fully clothed because his formative traumatic memory involves waking up naked in the dark. after all, he doesn't need pajamas to stay warm, and he doesn't have a recent habit of wearing them in his human life like Louis does. then again, maybe he just enjoys having a new outfit for every occasion!)

in Dubai, we only get one scene (iirc) with Louis and Armand in their pajamas, lying in bed wearing outfits that tie into the striped prison bar imagery of their bedroom. Armand is in warmer brown tones (like his Paris wardrobe) while Louis is in black and grey, like the rest of his Dubai outfits. i'd also note that this is the one place where they're genuine in private, meaning that they aren't putting on a show for Daniel. so this is potentially Armand's most relaxed costume in the present day.

the fact that they're wearing this kind of old-school sleepwear feels very appropriate for their whole deal, imo. in the 21st century, a lot of people just sleep in boxers and t-shirts or whatever. there's a slightly 20th century vibe to wearing a full set of buttondown pajamas, and Armand's outfit reads as more stylish (and possibly more wealthy) than your average millennial guy. which makes sense! they're old men.

i think we can assume that every single thing in their Dubai home is ferociously expensive, even when it doesn't need to be. considering the way Louis gives himself a modern makeover in the finale, i do wonder if he'll switch over to sleeping in t-shirts etc next season, or if he'll stick with variations of the same sleepwear he wore during his mortal life.

p.s. all of my iwtv design posts are available on this tag!

#iwtv #interview with the vampire #costume design #louis de pointe du lac #lestat #iwtv costume design #claudia #armand #iwtv meta #fortunatelyhercat #pajamas #asks

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tavolgisvist · 5 months ago

Text

'I look in the mirror'

At the Cavern, 1963, photo by Michael Ward

Photo by Mike McCartney

August 13, 1966, photo by Bob Bonis

We wrote with two guitars, John and I. And, as I’ve mentioned previously, the joy of that was that I was left-handed while he was right handed, so I was looking in a mirror and he was looking in a mirror. We would always tune up, have a ciggie, drink a cup of tea, start playing some stuff, look for an idea. Normally, one or the other of us would arrive with a fragment of a song. ‘Please Please Me’ was a John idea. John liked the double meaning of ‘please’. Yeah, ‘please’ is, you know, pretty please. ‘Please have intercourse with me. So, pretty please, have intercourse with me, I beg you to have intercourse with me.’ He liked that, and I liked that he liked that. This was the kind of thing we’d see in each other, the kind of thing in which we were matched up. We were in sync.

(Paul McCartney, about Please Please Me in The Lyrics, 2021)

gifs by javelinbk

A lot of what we had going for us was that we were both good at noticing the stuff that just pops up, and grabbing it. And the other thing is that John and I had each other. If he was sort of stuck for a line, I could finish it. If I was stuck for somewhere to go, he could make a suggestion. We could suggest the way out of the maze to each other, which was a very handy thing to have. We inspired each other.

(Paul McCartney, about Eight Days A Week in The Lyrics, 2021)

gifs by nikidontsurf

When John and I met, the first year of our friendship was spent talking about these cover versions, the records we loved, and then playing them again and again. As we got to know each other, we practised these various covers until one day the conversation went, ‘You know, I’ve written one or two songs.’ And he said, ‘Yeah, so have I.’ That gave us something in common that was itself wholly uncommon. I went to a school of a thousand boys and I’d never met anyone who said he’d written a song. Mine were just in my head. So were John’s. We took each other by surprise. And then the logical extension was, ‘Well, maybe we could write one together.’ So that’s how we started. And we became versions of each other.

(Paul McCartney, about The Other Me in The Lyrics, 2021)

gifs by stewy

Q: "Can I ask you about Lewis Carroll?" A: "Oh, Lewis Carroll. I always admit to that because I love 'Alice In Wonderland' and 'Alice Through The Looking Glass.' But I didn't even know he'd written anything else. I was that ignorant. I just happened to get those for birthday presents as a child and liked them. And I usually read those two about once a year, because I still like them."

(John Lennon, June 16, 1965, interview for BBC)

Paul McCartney in his garden at Cavendish Avenue, 7; photo by Barry Lategan (for Observer 'What Makes A Man Stylish?', July 1968)

I think of the imagined world of Lewis Carroll [Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There] that John and I both loved so much.

(Paul McCartney, about I’ll Get You in The Lyrics, 2021)

We’d been together so much that if you had a question, we would both pretty much come up with the same answer. [about their hitchhike to Spain by way of Paris] <…> It’s a bit crude, but it’s fair to say that, in general, I’d had a good life and John hadn’t. His life had been tougher, and he had to develop a harder shell than I did. He was quite a cynical guy but, as they say, with a heart of gold. A big softy, but his shield was hard. So that was very good for the two of us. Opposites attract. I could calm him down, and he could fire me up. We could see things in each other that the other needed to be complete.

(Paul McCartney about Ticket To Ride in The Lyrics, 2021)

youtube

Sometimes I look in the mirror Is nobody there? But I just keep on staring and staring No Can it be? Can it be? Can it be? And if I look in the mirror And nobody´s there But I just keep on staring, and staring No Is it me? Is it me? Is it me?

(John Lennon, circa 1977)

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stxrvel · 11 months ago

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absence (1)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader... or not? content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, fangirling a lot and some self-deprecation. no proofread. this is just silly writing, we're on the safe zone for now. a/n. hi guys! i was gonna wait a little bit but i'm really excited about this one so you're gonna have earlier! thank u all for the support and i really hope you enjoy this 🫶🏻

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You met them all at school. Each with their own ambitions, their different dreams, but so similar in the nature of their core. It was almost funny how everyone with their dissimilar personalities fit so strangely well into one school group. There were times when you could still remember how you used to tell them that all together they could rule the world.

Maybe that's why you didn't see them years ago.

Jeon Jungkook was an idol. There wasn't an hour in the day or a screen in the city where you weren't watching him. He was so popular around the world that you suspected that not even one person didn't know him. His voice was on every radio station, on every cell phone of the people you passed on the street and on the buses, his face on the TV sets with the last interview he had done, as if it were a national achievement. You even saw him in restaurants, chefs naming dishes after him, production companies releasing collaborations with his company. There wasn't an object in that city that didn't have Jungkook's face on its forehead. It was impossible to escape him.

He was closely followed by Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin, two of the most promising models of the last decade, a national pride hand in hand with Jungkook. You didn't see them as often as Jungkook, but they still swept the international public and there was hardly anyone who didn't talk about them. Invited to catwalks in Paris, choosing their contracts and collaborations, wearing the most expensive clothes that you wouldn't even think of buying, wearing beautiful matching jewelry, expensive enough that a single outfit from each of them could buy you five houses in the small town they all came from. Taehyung and Jimin were known as the Siamese twins of modeling. Wherever one went, the other always had to be. Their exclusivity was incomparable.

In levels of recognition, Min Yoongi followed them in line. A great rapper who was well received by the general populace. Yoongi had managed to captivate a large audience thanks to his incredible command of the production of his music and his ease and gift for writing his own lyrics. His growth was gradual, but when he touched the sky he never went down again. His popularity was not low even though his presentation to the public was not that high compared to the other three. Still, Yoongi had enough charisma and talent to stand out, especially when his fans were obsessed with highlighting the duality he had when he was on stage and when he did those seventy question interviews with Vogue or whatever… that had made him one of the best rappers of his generation and probably of the last century.

Kim Namjoon was the owner of the company that made Jungkook's debut and welcomed Yoongi with total creative freedom. If he were not solely focused on music, he would surely also be Taehyung and Jimin's agent. Namjoon had inherited a company from his parents, but the success he had turned it into over the past few years, into one of the most profitable businesses in the country, was entirely to his credit and effort. His popularity was also high, because everyone said he was too handsome to be a mere businessman; not knowing, of course, that everything involved in maintaining such a business required much more than a pretty face. Of Namjoon the public didn't know too much, not probably like the other guys and you, if he was still half the person he was before.

Hand in hand with Namjoon were Jung Hoseok and Kim Seokjin. Hoseok was and still is to this day a national pride as he passionately played tennis since school and turned professional, reaching to participate in major international tournaments representing his country and winning one of them. However, two years after that great feat, an accident involving one of his hands prevented him from continuing to play. No one knows exactly what happened during the more than a year and a half that he almost completely disappeared from the public eye, but when he returned with his huge smile he announced that he would dedicate himself to dance, opening his own academy throughout the center of the city. Although he was not a recurrent teacher, his academy was one of the best in the country, and of course, it was financed by Namjoon's company. At one time Hoseok became Namjoon's associate.

Seokjin, on the other hand, was the one who kept the lowest profile. He was a great doctor, cardiovascular if you were not mistaken. In addition to being an amazing surgeon, his research projects were the ones everyone looked forward to the most at the end of each year. You didn't know much about the subject, but he was almost like the guru of medicine in his field specifically. The only reason he was so much in the public eye being a doctor was because he was regularly seen in the company of Namjoon, Hoseok and Yoongi. The four of them made up the holy grail of dilfs.

They had all had incredibly successful careers and you were glad that they had been able to accomplish everything they once talked about on the rooftop of Namjoon's house, with sneaky steps so their parents wouldn't scold them when they sneaked out in the wee hours of the morning.

You didn't know exactly what it was - or you didn't want to acknowledge it - that succumbed inside you every time you saw or heard about any of them on the news or on social media. Because yeah, no matter how low media exposure any of them had, always the faces of all seven appeared on your TikTok every week.

It was amazing how they had all moved on and you… well, you-

“Weren't you supossed to leave?”

You lifted your head from your phone, trying to hide it with trembling hands as you let Taehyung's face next to Jungkook's plunge into the darkness of your apron pocket.

“Huh?”

You tried to look distracted, returning your gaze between your boss and the notes next to the cash register. She had a soft gaze, between amused and sisterly. Her brown eyes shifted from your eyes and hot cheeks to the notes you held upside down in your hands, pretending to work as if she herself hadn't seen you completely frozen and gawking at the pair of the country's great casanovas.

“I thought you were leaving earlier today,” your boss shifted, settling her trench coat and long brown strap bag over her shoulder. At that moment she was leaving to walk around to each of the locations she had in town, just to do follow-ups. “Don't tell me you forgot.”

You followed her index finger until it landed on the red circle you had drawn on the calendar placed in your little cubicle a couple of weeks ago, with hearts surrounding it and exclamation points. Yes you remembered, of course you remembered, but at the point where you were at the time no one was going to miss you if you didn't attend.

“I didn't forget…” your voice trailed off as you looked down, your fingers finding the tips of the pages more entertaining than your boss's worried expression.

“y/n, you asked me to leave earlier this day from four months ago,” her high-pitched voice echoed in your head, reminding you how excited you had been a while ago for this day to come. “You can't just give up like that. Come on. You still have time.”

You began to shake your head, releasing your grip on the woman who was looking at you with the same worried eyes of a mother. Your boss had been one of the most encouraging people you'd ever had in your life, besides the handful of friends you had stored in your phone's contacts.

“It was a bust last time. I don't plan on going through that again.”

“But hadn't you told me afterwards that you weren't going to let that stop you? You said… what was it? I can't drown in this glass of water.”

You grudgingly resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Really you of four months ago was a deluded fool.

“I had no idea about life at the time.”

Your boss clicked her tongue, dropping her hands on your shoulders, giving little squeezes whose familiarity stole your breath.

“I'll leave Patrick waiting for you in case you change your mind.”

You shook your head, evading the memories. The man outside the store shook his head in greeting as the two of you turned to look at him, as if he knew you were talking about him.

“Don't miss this opportunity because you're afraid. It may change your life.”

You watched her leave, the clacking of her low heels drawing the attention of everyone in the store, earning every possible stare as she did every time she entered any room. Her chauffeur, Patrick, greeted her with a similar nod of his head as before and stood leaning against the black car parked right where he could get a perfect view of your nervous face.

You, unlike the great and successful lives of your high school friends whose company you still used to miss like a fool, had not had such a great and successful life.

You were a writer. Well, an attempted writer and, worse, part-time. The other part-time was this job behind the cash register at the largest pastry chain in the country. Or sometimes as a waitress, it depended on the day. There was good pay, mind you, at least it allowed you to make up for the losses you took every time you tried to sell a book and then had to market it on your own, only to have five purchases once every seven months and three of them were from your parents and brother. The other two were from your friends.

Four months ago you had been invited to a sort of convention for readers, how they had found you and why? You had no idea, but the idea of being considered in that way drove you crazy at the time. You were so excited that you had more copies of your failed books printed and prepared your booth several days in advance to present them to the horde of people who, you were sure at the time, would come to meet you.

Only one person came by to ask you about the bathroom.

You never recovered from that.

Even with all that failure, that same day you were invited to another convention and, for a while, you were excited to attend. Everyone goes through those kinds of bumps at some point in their life, right? You have to work hard to earn that kind of fame, you kept telling yourself. But as time went on and your networks didn't grow and your videos didn't get more than ten views, or fifty views at most in a week, you began to lose that spark of excitement you held for your dream. Your parents had never turned your back on what you wanted to do, but it was too demotivating and discouraging to have spent so many years at it, so many headaches and tears invested for you to just keep losing and losing money.

That was why you were sure you wouldn't go to that convention if you had to go through that mockery again. You hadn't even bothered to go and fix your booth so surely they already knew you weren't going.

“Have you seen them yet??????”

The female voice coming from the wine cellar made you jump up on your chair.

“Jesus, Yuna, you almost killed me here.”

“I don't care! We could die right now for all we care!”

“Wow, speak for yourself.”

“Haven't you seen theeeem?”

Yuna held up her phone, the screen at full brightness blinding you for a moment. The blurry dots you saw from the proximity of the device told you nothing, as your friend jumped excitedly beside you.

“God, hold still.”

Grabbing her wrist, you leveled the phone to see her TikTok and a picture of three men.

Namjoon, Yoongi and Jungkook coming out of a building. From Namjoon's building.

“They look amazing, don't they? They just came out! That means their car will pass in front of us any minute!”

Yes, Namjoon's building was just a few blocks away from your boss's place. In fact, your boss knew him and many times they would prepare large orders for parties at his company. You had never seen him set foot in this place or any other in the country, but every time he went to celebrate something he had to dial your boss's personal number and you would work until your backs burned because everything had to be perfect for the big businessman.

“Are you going out to greet them or what?” you frowned, letting go of her wrist and returning your gaze to the notebook next to the cash register.

Yuna let out an excited exclamation.

“Ohhhh~, should I? Should I?”

You grabbed her by the collar of her uniform as she tried to pass behind you.

“We're still on business hours.”

“I'm sure Sol wouldn't mind,” her almost heart pupil eyes stared down the street, her hands moving in front of her like she was a zombie. She almost seemed possessed by her fanaticism. Though of course you didn't blame her, if you didn't know any of the seven knights of the underworld you would surely be as excited as she was.

“Don't put words in her mouth. You'd better tell me if the lady's batch of cakes is out yet-”

Commotion erupted throughout the room. You almost saw in slow motion how all the people in the premises got up and running in the direction of the glass doors when you heard the screams coming from far away.

“They're comiiiiiiiiiiiing!!!”

Sometimes you wondered how they dealt with this level of fanaticism.

The ground almost shook with the amount of people running after a black car, where the three men who were causing such a furor so early that day were most likely to be, and the commotion was not tiny inside the venue where the screams erupted.

Having to deal with that on a daily basis would easily turn someone into a hater. Not that you were one... strictly...

“God, for a moment we breathed the same air,” Yuna plopped down on the table, her body doubled over with her eyes lost. You resisted the urge to smack her forehead.

“Their car windows were up.”

“So you saw them, right?????”

“Argh.”

You had to drag her back to work as the excitement in the store dissipated. You attended to another batch of consumers while Yuna fixed the display case and, in a moment of lapse you could almost tell, her back suddenly straightened and she turned to look at you with her eyes a little too wide. You passed the change to the man in front of you, who barely sent you a confused glance before continuing to claim his order at the other corner of the store.

“What's wrong with you?”

“You shouldn't be here.”

“Don't say that with that face. You look creepy,” you pulled out the bill to tuck it under the cash register as Yuna approached, leaving the frightened face behind.

“Wasn't that convention today?”

You sighed. “Yes.”

“Then why aren't you there?”

“Do I look like I want to be there?”

“Y/n! It's a great opportunity. You should-”

“A great opportunity for what, to be a laughingstock again?”

Yuna pursed her lips, looking almost pained that you would remember in that way the experience that was supposed to change your life. She had been one of the ones who had accompanied you to set up the booth and she was sure she had never seen you smile so much during all the time the two of you had known each other. Yuna was aware of how over time you seemed to have lost interest in this new convention, but she didn't think you would finally decide not to go.

On the sly, she had prepared your booth with the help of your mother and Sol, your boss.

“You were never a laughingstock! Don't say that,” Yuna patted your forearm harder than necessary. “Besides, I recently logged some purchases on the site! How do you-?”

“I know it was you and mom,” you raised your voice to interrupt her, stepping archly away from her body.

“What the… Of course not, ha, ha!”

“You're the only fools who would write down celebrity names to register purchases. Besides, the addresses don't even exist.”

“Fuck, I told her that wouldn't work.”

Under your heavy gaze, Yuna had the decency to look embarrassed.

“Okay, I'm sorry! We wanted to motivate you to go to the convention.”

“Can't you just let me do my own thing? If I don't want to go, I won't go.”

“Even if you leave Patrick waiting there?”

You followed his gaze, watching the man pull an umbrella out of the trunk of the car as the slightest breeze brushed against his body and the water droplets were smaller than a dew that the two of you had to squint to see them on the glass of the entrance.

“Whatever it is, I'm not going.”

“y/n…” Yuna pleaded, coming closer with her puppy dog eyes.

“No.”

“y/n, please…”

“No and stop doing that. You look weird.”

“I don't,” Yuna pulled away to frown at you. “I once heard you agreed with Seoyeon about my puppy face being cute.”

“I never agreed with that!”

“Seojun told me so!”

“Your first mistake is believing Seojun.”

“Do you blame me if the reason is your demonstration of love for me?”

“That was your second mistake.”

“Y/n!”

_____________________

That day you arrived home a little later than usual. Since Patrick had been waiting for you all day in the sun and mini rain and refused to let you take a cab on direct instructions from Sol, you asked him to take a ride downtown so you could buy the teokkboki your mom loved and incidentally bought some for him, even though he didn't want to accept it at first.

“y/n, dear, how did it go?”

Your parents were in the living room when you arrived playing Go. Your father left the table when he saw you carrying the bag of food and came over to take it from you.

“What does our little writer bring here, a contract by any chance?”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as your mother tried to get your father's attention by wildly waving her fan, while the man rummaged through the bag to find something warm and delicious smelling.

“Oh, it's teokkboki.”

Your mother stopped waving her arm to stare at the bag with sparkling eyes.

“The ones from the center? From Mrs. Wang?”

You nodded in her direction, taking a seat in their midst on the floor. Your parents started a pitched battle to see who would break the bag first to try the first batch of teokkboki and you could only watch them with a smile on your face. The day may have been difficult, but being home at the end of the day always made you feel so much better.

Amidst laughter and anecdotes, trying to avoid the elephant in the room because you knew your mother's furtive glances weren't for nothing, the three of you ate teokkboki until you were bursting at the seams. You organized the kitchen with your father while your mother grumbled from the living room whatever he said about her. You watched the three of you favorite soap opera on the fixed schedule and finally got ready for bed.

With your body more relaxed and lighter, you let yourself sink into the softness of the sheets, completely ignoring the messages Yuna had sent earlier and the stupid questions your brother asked at the most inopportune moments.

How do I unclog a bath?

Do I add salt to the rice???

Where do I get the kimchi mom makes?????

His independence was probably one of the worst things that could happen. You being the older sister thought you would leave home first. Even according to your twelve year old diary, you should have been married by then or at least planning your amazing, mega giant wedding, complete with helicopters and puppy dogs carrying drinks through the reception. You didn't know what kind of crazy dreams you had when you were younger, but up to that point you hadn't been able to fulfill any of your inner child's desires except to study for a career you were passionate about.

Still, what good had that done in the end? Maybe you should've listened to your grandparents to study medicine. Maybe your parents should've been a little more conservative instead of libertarian, which your grandparents always complained about when they had the chance. If you were a disgrace to anyone in the family, it was to them.

Ah, what a long day.

You didn't know at what point you fell asleep, but the incessant sound of your phone vibrating next to your pillow woke you up. With a grunt, you moved your hands to put the device in front of one of your half-open eyes to find Yuna on caller ID. Your eyes moved upward.

It was one in the morning!

“What the fuck are you doing calling at this hour? It better be an emergency because-”

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING THAT YOU DON'T CHECK YOUR MESSAGES?”

“WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT? IT'S ONE IN THE MORNING! WHY WOULD I BE DOING ANYTHING ELSE BUT SLEEPING?”

“I'VE BEEN TEXTING YOU FOR A WHILE NOW, Y/N!”

“YUNA HOW CAN I NOT FUCKING SLEEP-?”

“Well, whatever!”

You let out an exasperated snort, giving her time to say what she had to say.

“You're going to fall on your ass.”

“I'm lying down.”

“Your books have sold a thousand copies in the last hour!”

Silence. Absorbing silence…

“Yuna, if you really woke me up to play a fucking prank on me I'm going all the way to your house to pull out every single one of your hairs with a fucking tweezer.”

“First of all, gross. Second of all, I'm not kidding! Get on your fucking Instagram! What's worse is that's not the most shocking news. Well… depends on how you look at it.”

“Yuna, I don't think I'm following you.”

“Fucking Kim Taehyung was at the reader convention and he took a picture of your books and UPLOADED IT TO HIS INSTAGRAM STORIES!!!!! AN HOUR AGO! The damn shopping notifications woke me up and I think I took too much time trying to process what was going on because they already tripled!”

“What the fuck are you talking about, did you start smoking weed?”

“Ugh, why are you so insufferable? Just look at fucking Instagram!”

You didn't want to believe Yuna, but a part of you was vibrating in anticipation. You'd already seen her text messages, her exclamations and voice notes, you'd barely processed the images she'd sent you. You logged on to Instagram. The first thing you noticed was the exorbitant amount of notifications and direct messages.

You had to search for Taehyung's account because you weren't following him.

There was the colorful arc around his profile picture. The story.

You clicked on his picture on the screen.

Your books were all over his story, with his hand holding one of them.

It jumped out at you that there was a stand of your books that you had no idea where it had come from.

A description loomed between the image.

One of the best fantasy books I've read in recent years. And by one of the best writers I've ever met in my life.

Your user was next to the description. You had no idea how fucking Kim Taehyung had gotten your user when it wasn't even something related to your name. You hadn't even uploaded pictures of yourself once in all the time that account had been open.

“Did you see it?? Can you see I wasn't lying?”

With Yuna's malevolent laughter in the background, you felt your mind escape into an unknown mental space.

“You're going to be rich!!! And I'm going to meet Kim Taehyung!”

Your mind was racing a thousand miles an hour trying to make sense of what your eyes couldn't credit. His story was replaying on your screen. So many things you could say and just…

“What the fuck?”

tag: @rinkud @futuristicenemychaos @pastelpeachess @parapiop7

#bts x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #kim taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #hobi x reader #yoongi x reader #bts x you #bts x fem!reader #series: i can fix them

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yeyinde · 6 months ago

Note

ghoapxreader in the baby trapping series IM BEGGING 🧎‍♀️

i think i've exhausted the whole "tampering with contraceptives" thing to death by now so i would probably do something different with them. like a surrogate situation or something, but awful lmao

maybe down on her luck reader is in desperate need of cash, and these two men swoop in to save you from this horrible pit you've fallen into.

you need money. they need a baby.

simple, right?

except the simplicity falls apart when they blatantly tell you they want a natural insemination—as in, a threesome.

multiple, the pretty Scot tells you. after all, it has tae take, hen.

(and this is the part where you should have run. the moment when you'd be screaming at the television at the hapless protagonist as they walk mindlessly into danger despite the warning signs hanging overhead. but like the oblivious hero, you're too blinded by pretty, gleaming white to realise that the thing you're marveling over is a maw. cracked open wide and full of jagged, deadly teeth rearing up to sink inside of you.

but the problem with making shady deals when you're desperate is that no one really bothers to read the fine print, do they? and by the time you see past their crooked charm, you're waving your child off as they skip up the stairs to school, standing like a prisoner between them as they lean down and ask if you're ready for another—)

but that comes later.

what comes first is message on Craiglist.

one that you spend less time considering it than you should have. desperation, you find, clouds your judgement. blots out common sense. makes you susceptible to manipulation. and oh, how susceptible you are. despite priding yourself on your common sense and keen self-awareness, the overarching issues hanging over your head like an idling guillotine seem to erase that instructive need for self-preservation.

so, when the message itself pops up, you're already primed for making bad choices. ones out of malformed desperation. the barrage of texts from your landlord demanding rent, the ones sent to your family in moments of dire need asking for fruitless aid that will never come in time if the read receipts mean anything at all. the package from HR apologising for the inconvenience, but this was, regrettably, the only feasible option for the company at present, and too bad you didn't sign up for that union, huh? student loans. credit cards.

the measureable calamity of your life manifests itself in the shape of a black cloud hanging onto your aching shoulder, wrapping long, inkstained fingers around your jugular as it hisses the insurmountable figure needed to climb out of this pit in your ear.

sleepless, of course, hasn't helped.

and in that bog you can't swim through, their offer sounds far more appealing than it should.

let's meet up somewhere, comes the next message at half past three in the morning as you talk yourself in (and out) of this mess. talk about things more.

what else are you supposed to do?

job hunting sites mock you with their generic emails, thanking you for applying, and saying they'll reach out within a few business days for an interview if you're a good fit. ones sent off weeks ago. hundreds of them to no avail. it's almost like you're being plagued. blacklisted from the city.

even the fast food chain down the street refused your application when you sent it in, and the help wanted sign has been taped on the drive-thru window since you were sixteen.

it all pushes you closer and closer to making stupid choices, like replying with a simple (nervous, shaky, bile-tinged) sure to the message they sent. i'm down—

(—and drowning)

but you're smart enough to know better, so you act like it, too.

ping your location to your friends. tell them where you're going. clutch your keys so tightly in your fist that your knuckles just out through thin skin. layers upon layers of safety measures glimpsed through the various articles about how to stay alive.

but all the tremulous air is siphoned from your lungs when you see them for the first time.

something magnetic thrums through your chest. copper sutures running lines from their skin to yours until touching just seems like the most natural thing in the world. and you suppose it is when the pretty Scot folds you into a tight hug, cinching you close to his chest as if he's known you his whole life instead of just several seconds.

he's a thing of beauty. chiselled from marble, almost; David made human when he runs his tanned hand through the tumble of uneven hair along his crown. eyes the same varicoloured palette of a boscage in autumn framed in the setting sun's golden halo.

there's a distinct ruggedness about his beauty, too. one that reminds of you a lion's mane. the sleek fur of a stallion. pretty in a wild way. and as his eyes list towards you again and again, like he can't quite manage his fill of staring at you, taking you in, you think about that wildness again. the hunger in his eyes so similiar to the desperation of a predator fattening up for the encroaching chill of winter. it makes you shiver, but you can't look away

(because you know what's waiting for you when you do)

and when you finally pluck up the courage to glance at the shape devouring the light with his intimidating bulk, you come to quick realisation that if Johnny is the personification of an autumn evening, then the man standing next to him is the tried and true testament that bad things happen after dark.

he's a strange figure, one who veers almost comically into the uncanny valley with his hood pulled over the plain, black ballcap hanging low over his brow. a balaclava covering every inch of his face with the exception of a small, ovaled hole for his eyes. remnants of something ashy smear into the corners, running up the crooked bend of his nose.

he doesn't look like a real man—not with those liquid, haunting eyes—but at the same time, there's something preternaturally human about him. a stereotypical sense of masculinity—just one warped around the edges.

with his worn jeans pulled tight over thick, bulging thighs, and the silver zipper of his hoodie resting at the base of his throat, you could easily think he was just another man in the crowd, but it's off. a glitch. a skip.

like mistaking a coat rack for a man in the dead of night.

eerie.

dangerous.

if the man beside him is playfully carnivorous, a basking lion rolling onto his belly at the zoo, separated by thick glass, then he (Simon, Johnny supplies readily when the silence lingers; Simon Riley), Simon, is what it feels like to be followed home at night.

but—

there's something about fear and desire that are almost inseparable when broken down into a physiological response.

and when he steps up behind you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body soaking into the drying sweat on your back, you liken the way your heart climbs up your throat to same as it would seeing a dorsal fin cutting above the waves in open water.

desire, you think, and then catching the white-hot burn of the stare, you add, in a thin whisper: fear.

when they sit you down, and begin to spin a story about how they just want a baby—no strings attached—you stay seated in the chair even as an itch in the back of your head starts, nails scraping at your skull.

their reluctance toward traditional methods makes sense when they explain that with their lifestyle, it's impossible—or the Scottish man does; the other one with a marbled skin of thick, ugly scars on his hands just stares, pinning you down with the weight of his gaze—and this arrangement is the only way they'll get the baby they've been hoping for.

and even though the scratching in your head sounds suspiciously like why you and run, you eat the food they bought for you in the fancy restaurant where appetisers start at $30, and a glass of water is priced at $6. volcanic spring water, the waiter explains as he pours it from a marbled glass pitcher.

you haven't eaten a real meal that wasn't microwavable or cup noodles in weeks.

maybe that's why you find yourself thinking why not instead of no.

they're attractive men. it's not the worst situation you could have found yourself in, even if the idea of parenthood—however brief it's supposed to be—has bile clawing up the back of your throat, and the bones housing your trembling heart feeling laden, heavy like iron, and starts to cinch your chest shut each day, squeezing tighter, and tighter, and—

they drop off the first the installment to you the moment your doctor starts to talk about boerhaave syndrome, as if they know the doubts that plague your head when they leave your apartment and the silence starts to mock you.

and that leads you here.

guilt for their situation. desperation over your own. an overarching need to please. it's all a dangerous cocktail that douses over rationality until you're nodding along, accepting their words as gospel until sleeping with them—multiple times—doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

until it happens. until you have Johnny and Simon actively working to knock you up. a marathon of intense sex with the single-minded goal of putting their baby in you.

Johnny drooling all over you as he ruts between your thighs, mindlessly driving himself into a frenzy as he slurres out his desires in an incomprehensible mess of English and Gaelic and animalistic grunts. barely pulling out in time before Simon is pressing your knee down to the mattress, cooing mockingly at the mess his boy made of you. cruelly taking bets as he slides into your sore, aching cunt about who will take first. his or Johnny's? and who do you want, birdie? who's baby do you want first?

fingers always shoving inside to cap the overflow when they exhaust themselves in a liquid-limbed stupor, barely conscious as you tapped out some three, four rounds ago. unable to keep your eyes open any longer as they both came to the same conclusion that cumming inside of you at the same time was the quickest way to knock you up together. ain't he a romantic, birdie?

and it's probably for the best that you passed out before it happened, drooling on Simon's scarred shoulder as he gripped the cheeks of your ass, pulling you wide open as Johnny shuffled forward between his spread legs, eyes riveted to the spot where Simon's cock split you open. the ache you felt the next morning, coming to on a broad chest with fingers stuffed inside of you—shush, shush, just keeping you nice an' plugged, sweetheart—was almost unbearable.

you expected them to clear out after getting what they want, but they stay. tend to you carefully like you're made of fine china.

or—Johnny does. bundles you up in his arms before setting off towards the bath, finally letting you wash the sticky, flaking grime from your skin, some awful mixture of drying cum, spit, and sweat, groaning in your ear as he pulls you to his damp, hairy chest about how sweet you are for them. how they're going to take care of you.

Simon caters to other things. packs your bags as Johnny scrubs thick fingers over your shoulders, pausing to grasp a sore, tender breast in his palm, hefting the weight up as he feverishly mutters about how hot it'll be to watch you feed their baby. an' maybe you'll let him have a little taste, too—

and when you finally emerge from the bath, sorer between the thighs than you were when you woke up, another mess pooling in the gusset of the panties he pulled up your legs, Simon's waiting, eyes riveted to your belly. staring at it with so much hunger, a cold sweat breaks out along the nape of your neck.

in the grand scheme of things, the threesome is the easy part. the hard part comes when they turn the arrangement into a prison, locking the shackles around your wrists when the pregnancy test comes back positive a few weeks later.

they're only doing what's best for their baby, they say, when they move you out of your apartment and into theirs. the cut lease was the only way to do it, Johnny says, shrugging. why make you pay for something you aren't using anymore?

and maybe if your head was thickened with a fog, you'd have questioned the phrasing, but as it stands, pregnancy, even as early as this one, adles you. leaves you a syrupy mess of emotions that they take turns exploiting. aren't you so lonely all by yourself, hen? don' ye want a family?

aren't they good enough for you?

it's less subliminal messaging and more overt coersion. what are you going to do after this? where will you go with your lease cut? and when the funds run dry? what then?

gonna find another couple to knock you up? Simon hisses, mangled hands mauling your belly, pinching and squeezing the flesh as if he could feel the fragile box their happiness is housed inside. should jus' stay with us if that's the case, birdie.

but it's all so sweet, in its own way—

(—sweet like a parasite nesting inside of it's host.

but at least you'll never be lonely.)

they stand by the fact that they're looking out for you. that they care. that they can't do much else but idle and watch your body evolve into something new (an' magnificent, Johnny breathes, kissing this unfamiliar shape you call home) and it grates at them because they're not used to feeling so useless, so can't you just let them do this for you? take care of you in all the ways they see fit? like cutting your lease and giving you a better place to stay. handing in your resignation from that shitty nine to five that wore you down to the bone. culling out the annoyances in your life—the friends and family—who kick up needless fits over your wellbeing, and just stress you out more than you need to be.

they're not good enough for you, is what Simon says when you ask why he blocked them from your phone, Johnny hovering by the doorway with his arms folded over his chest. barring the exits, you'll realise later. but what comes first is fear, is anger, is—

happiness. maybe. or some broken, fragile facsimile of it. a subpar humuliculus masquerading around as if it was realised flesh and bone.

"oh," you say, and think you should be touched by his care, his concern, and so you are. shape this emotion from the sludge that pools at the bottom of your chest, running fingers through the muck to find pieces of gold. and then: "thank you, Simon."

it's sweet. or it could have been if it didn't spiral out of your control when they systematically dismantle your entire life until all you're left with is loose sediment slipping through your fingers. the foundation itself soften clay they shape into the image they've been after with the whole time: you.

(or more specifically, a momma for their baby.)

and when they ask you, at the end of this thin, fraying tether, if you want to be with them—an equal, a mother—and be a mother again for them, there's nothing else you could say except yes.

nothing because they made it so.

#a more literal spin to “baby trapping” lmao #ghoap x reader #double p with brief hints of somno manipulation social isolation its implied that Ghoap ruin your life from bts too #ghoapdrabbles

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pbaz7 · 3 months ago

Text

ONE SHOT: CHASING FOREVER

paige x azzi

word count: 7.5k

A/N: This is just something cute to start the week off because I might be a little busy this week!! A couple of people requested a one shot of them in the future so this is my attempt at that.

—————————————————————————

Paige and Azzi had been best friends since they were teenagers, long before they ever set foot on UConn’s campus. Their bond had always been special, the kind of connection that felt easy from the jump, but somewhere along the way, friendship turned into something more. By the time they were dominating college basketball together, they weren’t just two stars—they were each other’s everything.

Winning a championship at UConn in 2025 was supposed to be their peak but their lives together were just getting started. The WNBA draft forced them to figure each other out more. Paige was taken first overall by the Dallas Wings, the future of their franchise, while Azzi landed with the Washington Mystics that same year, a dream come true for the hometown kid. It was exciting, but it was also a little heartbreaking. They were used to spending everyday together, sharing everything—practices, late-night talks, the weight of everything together with the other by their side. Then they were in different cities, on different teams, with different schedules.

For two seasons, they made the distance work. Texts, FaceTimes, and living together in the offseason and playing unrivaled together kept them connected, but it wasn’t enough. Paige tried to convince herself she could handle it, but the truth was, she couldn’t imagine building her future with Azzi from halfway across the country. She didn’t want to go half the year being away from the woman she loved anymore.

Requesting a trade and being adamant it was to Washington wasn’t an easy decision. Paige knew what it would look like. She wasn’t just any player—she was the former ROY, an Allstar, one of the centerpieces of a team that had just made it to the semi-finals. She knew there’d be backlash, that the media would question her loyalty, maybe even call her selfish. But none of that mattered to her. Azzi mattered. She always had. And Paige wasn’t going to let fear or criticism from people who didn’t know her stop her from choosing the person she loved more than anything in the world.

Present Day

The final buzzer echoed through Capital One Arena, signaling the end of the game: Mystics 78, Sky 70. The crowd erupted in cheers as the team playfully celebrated another win. After being ushered by the media personnel Paige and Azzi walked off the court, exchanging a quick smile before heading to the press room.

Now seated at the long table, microphones in front of them, the two of them fielded the usual postgame questions.

“Azzi, you really took over in the fourth quarter with those back-to-back threes. Can you talk about what was going through your mind in those moments?”

Azzi nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Honestly, I was just focused on staying in rhythm. Aaliyah and Shakira set some good screens, and I knew if I got the ball in my spots it was as simple as shooting in rhythm.”

“Paige,” another reporter chimed in, “you had a double-double tonight and were pretty dominant on the defensive end. How does it feel to be able to make such an impact on both sides of the floor?”

Paige leaned forward slightly. “Defense has always been something I take a lot of pride in. Azzi and I talked before the game about how we needed to lock down their guards, especially in transition, and I think we executed that really well as a team tonight.”

Another hand shot up. “This team has been on fire lately, winning six in a row. What do you think is clicking for you right now?”

Azzi glanced at Paige, letting her take this one. Paige smiled, shaking her head slightly used to Azzi’s interview antics at this point. “I think it’s just trust. We’re trusting each other, moving the ball, and staying disciplined on defense. Everyone knows their role, and when we play like that, we’re tough to beat.”

As the questions kept coming, Paige and Azzi fell into an easy rhythm. Years of playing together had made them naturals at complementing each other in every space they were in. Paige handled the deep technical breakdowns, always more of a nerd when it came to basketball, while Azzi added lighthearted quips that explained what Paige’s complicated breakdowns meant that drew quiet chuckles from the room.

It was in the middle of another question—one about the chemistry on the court of the young winning team who had a lot of noise surrounding them about being contenders—when a tiny voice cut through the air:

“Mommy!”

Both of their heads turned instantly, their attention snapping toward the sound like a reflex. Standing off to the side with one of the team managers was their daughter, Aliana, her custom Mystics jersey fitting her perfectly. Her curls were slightly messy, and her big, brown eyes—an exact replica of Azzi’s—were wide with impatience.

Azzi laughed softly, her expression melting. “One second, baby. Mommy’s almost done,” she said gently, her tone completely different from the way she was talking with the reporters.

Aliana’s lip jutted out in a pout, and Paige, never able to resist her soft spot for her daughter that looked exactly like her wife, sighed quietly. “Come here,” she said, her arms outstretched.

Aliana didn’t hesitate, rushing forward as fast as her little legs could carry her. Paige scooped her up, settling the toddler into her lap. Aliana immediately tucked her face into Paige’s neck, her tiny hands gripping her mom’s jersey for comfort.

The reporters murmured and smiled at the unexpected moment, some of them jotting down notes while others simply watched the family interaction. Paige adjusted the microphone slightly and continued answering questions, as if having a toddler nestled against her was the most natural thing in the world.

Throughout the rest of the press conference, Aliana stayed quiet, her big eyes peeking out from Paige’s shoulder as she watched Azzi’s every movement. The look of pure adoration on her face didn’t go unnoticed by the reporters, or by Paige, who couldn’t help but smile.

When the session finally wrapped up, Aliana started to squirm, her little arms reaching toward Azzi. Azzi took her without hesitation, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Hi, baby girl,” she murmured.

As the three of them began walking toward the locker room, Aliana’s excitement bubbled over as she was finally able to talk to her parents. “Mommy, Mama! You both did so good!” she exclaimed, her tiny hands clutching Azzi’s jersey.

Azzi smiled down at her, gently correcting, “We played well, sweetheart. But thank you.”

Paige rolled her eyes with a laugh. “Az, she’s three. I don’t think she cares about grammar right now.”

Aliana tilted her head curiously. “What’s...gramma, mama?”

Paige smirked, exchanging a playful glance with Azzi. “See? Exactly my point.”

Azzi chuckled, adjusting Aliana in her arms. “Grammar is something we’ll talk about later. But for now, what was your favorite part of the game?”

Aliana’s eyes lit up. “When you made the big basket! And then everweone clapped so loud!”

“That’s because she’s a sharpshooter baby,” Paige said. She reached over to brush her fingers through Aliana’s curls. “What about Mama? Did you see my block in the second quarter?”

Aliana gasped as if she’d been waiting for this moment. “Oh! I saw it! You were so tall, Mama! The other lady was like—” She mimicked someone getting blocked, throwing her hands in the air dramatically before collapsing back into Azzi’s arms with a giggle.

Paige laughed, her chest warming at the sight. “Exactly! They tried to say I wasn’t a shot blocker. Can you believe that?.”

Azzi grinned, jumping in to tease Paige. “But who was it that tipped the ball back to you to finish your highlight?”

Paige smirked, her tone matching Azzi’s. “Oh, you mean your assist? Don’t worry, sexy, we’ll make sure your highlight reel is just as good as mine.”

Aliana, not quite following the playful banter but enjoying the energy, threw her hands in the air. “Mommy and Mama are the best ever!”

Paige and Azzi both laughed as they reached the locker room. Azzi pressed a kiss to Aliana’s forehead, her heart full as she looked between her wife and daughter.

“You know what?” Azzi said, shifting Aliana slightly so Paige could open the locker room door. “She might be right.”

Paige grinned as she held the door open for them. “Can’t argue with that.”

…

After a quick clean-up in the locker room and changing into their clothes, they were finally ready to head out. At the car, Paige buckled Aliana into her car seat, making sure everything was secure while Azzi put their bags in the trunk. They both closed their respective doors at the same time and turned toward each other, smiling as their eyes met.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to pause, the two of them always taking time for just one another in their hectic lives. Without a word, they stepped closer, and Azzi’s arms slid up to wrap around Paige’s neck. Their kiss was slow and lingered for some time as they sighed into each other.

The sound of tiny hands knocking on the window broke their spell. It was barely audible, but they both heard it. Azzi turned her head, laughing softly as Paige glanced over her shoulder. The tented windows of her car made it hard to see inside, but they both knew who it was.

“Guess we’ve got an audience,” Paige murmured with a chuckle, reluctantly stepping back.

Azzi grinned, her fingers trailing lightly down Paige’s arm and squeezing her hand before letting go. “She’s impatient, just like her mother,” she teased.

Paige rolled her eyes again but couldn’t help smiling. She opened the passenger door for Azzi, who slid in with a quiet “Thank you,” before making her way to the driver’s side.

As Paige climbed into the car and started the engine, Aliana’s little voice piped up from the backseat. “Are we going to get ice cream now?”

Paige glanced at Azzi, raising an eyebrow in silent amusement at their daughter’s never ending energy. Before Paige could say anything, Azzi turned toward the backseat, grinning. “How can we say no to that pretty face?” Azzi said, making the little girl smile.

Paige shook her head with a small laugh, glancing at her daughter through the rearview mirror. “Ice cream it is,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips as Aliana let out an excited squeal.

When they pulled up to the ice cream shop, Paige backed the car into a parking spot and immediately noticed the small crowd spilling outside of the shop. A few fans, still wearing Mystics jerseys with the numbers 5 and 35 displayed, were chatting animatedly and glancing at their phones as they ate their ice cream. Azzi followed Paige’s gaze and gave a soft sigh.

“You in the mood for interactions today?” Azzi asked, as she watched Paige look down and scroll through something on her phone.

Paige paused, letting out a small breath. “Not really,” she admitted, rubbing her temple briefly. “I have a bit of a headache so I’m looking for–” she was interrupted as Aliana’s excited voice rang out from the backseat.

“We’re here, we’re here!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up as she looked out the window.

Paige chuckled softly, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine. C’mon,” she said, giving Azzi a reassuring smile as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

Azzi reached over to give Paige’s hand a quick squeeze. “Let me know if it gets too much,” she said, her gaze lingering on Paige’s face.

“I will,” Paige replied. “You worry too much.”

Azzi just smiled before stepping out of the car. Paige followed, walking to the backseat to unbuckle Aliana from her car seat. Their daughter immediately wrapped her small arms around Paige’s neck as Paige lifted her out, planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Mama, hurry!” Aliana called to Azzi, who was near the open trunk of the car, adjusting her jacket.

“I’m coming bossy, I’m coming,” Azzi replied, laughing as she closed the trunk and joined them.

The three of them began walking toward the ice cream shop, hand in hand—Aliana happily swinging her legs as Paige carried her. Almost instantly, murmurs rippled through the small crowd outside as people recognized them. Phones came out, fans whispering excitedly to each other and pointing.

Paige leaned closer to Azzi and muttered under her breath, “Here we go.”

Azzi stifled a laugh, leaning slightly into Paige’s side as she whispered back, “You’re a people person, remember?”

“I said that one time,” Paige replied, rolling her eyes playfully. But she adjusted Aliana in her arms and smiled warmly at the fans as they approached, giving a small wave.

Fans immediately began to gather around them, their excitement clear as they approached the couple. A young girl wearing Paige’s #5 Mystics jersey held out a Sharpie. “Paige, can you sign this for me? You’re my favorite player ever!” she gushed, her voice trembling slightly with excitement.

Paige smiled warmly, shifting Aliana in her arms before taking the marker. “Of course. Thank you for coming to the game,” she said, as she quickly leaned down and scribbled her signature on the jersey.

The same fan asked for a picture so Paige handed Aliana off to Azzi so she could take a few pictures while Azzi signed things.

After a moment of this a teenage boy wearing Azzi’s #35 jersey held out his phone.

Azzi, can I get a picture with you? You’re a DMV legend, seriously!”

Azzi grinned, passing Aliana over to Paige and stepping closer to the boy. “Legend, huh? Big shoes to fill,” she joked, posing with him for a quick photo.

In Paige’s arms, Aliana giggled as she clung to her mom’s neck, watching the behavior of the fans curiously. After Azzi returned from taking a few pictures, Paige handed Aliana over, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. “Your turn,” Paige said with a playful smirk.

Aliana squealed happily as Azzi lifted her, settling her on her hip. A group of women in their twenties approached, each holding printed out action shots of Paige and Azzi. “You two are literally couple goals! Can we all get a picture of you together?” one of them asked excitedly.

Paige gave a polite smile, gesturing subtly toward Aliana. “We’d love to, but we’re keeping this one out of fan pictures for now,” she said, nodding at her daughter.

“Totally understandable, we can do single pictures if that’s ok” one of the women said, her tone genuine. “But you two are amazing together—on and off the court.”

“Thank you,” Azzi replied, her smile widening as Aliana reached up to mess with her hair, giggling again. “We appreciate you guys supporting us.”

The interactions continued for a few minutes, with fans asking for autographs and photos, Paige and Azzi trading Aliana back and forth every so often so she wouldn’t be in any random instagram pictures they couldn’t control. Each time they exchanged her, Aliana burst into giggles, delighted by the little game they seemed to be playing.

Eventually, Aliana leaned in close to Paige’s ear, her tiny fingers tugging at her mom’s face to push it towards her. “Mama, I want ice cream now,” she whispered.

Paige chuckled, nodding slightly before looking over at Azzi. “We’re on borrowed time with the princess here,” she said, flashing her wife a look.

Azzi turned to the fans with an apologetic smile. “Thanks so much, everyone, but we’ve got one very impatient ice cream lover here,” she said, gesturing to Aliana, who was now laying her head dramatically against Paige’s shoulder.

The fans laughed, stepping aside to let the family through. “Enjoy your ice cream!” one of them called out as Paige and Azzi finally made their way into the shop, Aliana perking up instantly at the sight of the brightly lit display of colorful scoops.

As soon as they reached the counter, Aliana wiggled excitedly in Paige’s arms, her big brown eyes lighting up as she pointed at the rainbow sprinkles on display. “Mommy, I want rainbow sprinkles!” she yelled with the kind of enthusiasm only a three-year-old could muster.

Azzi laughed softly. “Whatever you want, baby girl,” she said warmly, glancing at Paige with a smile.

When they reached the front of the line, the teenage boy behind the counter greeted them with wide eyes, clearly recognizing Paige and Azzi. “Oh wow, you’re… uh, you’re Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd, right?” he stammered, barely able to keep his composure.

Paige smiled politely, nodding. “That’s us,” she said.

As the boy’s gaze lingered on Azzi a little too long, Paige subtly shifted closer to her, sliding her free arm around Azzi’s waist. Azzi smirked at the gesture, her eyes sparkling with amusement at Paige’s antics as she leaned into Paige slightly.

“What can I get for you?” the boy asked, his voice cracking just a bit as he tore his eyes away from Azzi and focused on the display.

Azzi laughed softly before answering. “We’ll take one vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles for her,” she said, gesturing to Aliana, who was practically bouncing in Paige’s arms. “And…” She glanced at Paige, raising an eyebrow. “What are you in the mood for, baby?”

Paige gave her a playful side-eye before turning to the boy. “Just a scoop of chocolate for me, in a cup.”

“And I’ll take a scoop of strawberry in a waffle cone,” Azzi added, her smirk widening as she glanced at Paige. “Anything else, love? Maybe some whipped cream for your jealousy?” she teased quietly for her to hear.

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her. “Just order the ice cream, Azzi,” she said, shaking her head as the boy quickly began preparing their order but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from her.

Paige noticed, her eyes catching the way he fumbled slightly with the scoop in his hand, his gaze still lingering on Azzi a little too long for her liking.

Azzi, oblivious—or perhaps simply unfazed—continued speaking to Aliana. “Rainbow sprinkles, huh? Great choice, baby girl,” she said, her lips curving into a smile that made the boy freeze mid-motion.

Paige shifted her weight slightly, stepping closer to Azzi. As she did, her left hand casually rested on the counter, the silver band adorned with sparkling diamonds catching the light perfectly. She pretended to adjust her watch with her other hand, ensuring the boy’s eyes couldn’t miss the ring gleaming on her finger.

“Everything okay over there?” Paige asked as her gaze flicked to the boy, who quickly snapped back to attention.

“Oh—uh—yeah!” he stammered, now flustered as he scrambled to scoop Aliana’s ice cream. “Sorry, uh, what flavor did you want again?”

Azzi glanced at Paige out of the corner of her eye, biting back a smirk as she caught on to what was happening. “Vanilla,” she said smoothly. “With rainbow sprinkles, please.”

The boy nodded quickly, focusing entirely on the task at hand now. Meanwhile, Paige leaned a little closer to Azzi, her arm brushing against hers. “You know,” she said, “it’s funny how some people forget to focus on their job and not a pretty married woman.”

Azzi laughed under her breath, her hand instinctively resting on Paige’s lower back. “Jealous of a teenage boy, are we?” she teased quietly, glancing at Paige with a raised brow.

“Not jealous,” Paige replied, though the playfulness in her eyes betrayed her. “Just making sure everyone knows what’s off-limits.”

Azzi laughed at that, her own left hand rising to brush a stray hair from Pagie’s face, conveniently flashing her stacked engagement and wedding ring in the process. The hard to miss diamond caught the light, and the boy’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red as he hurriedly finished their order.

“Here you go!” he said, setting all the ice cream down on the counter. “Enjoy your day!”

“Thanks,” Paige said, her smile sweet but tinged with satisfaction as she took the cone and handed it to Aliana, who squealed in delight as Paige handed the boy a $50.

As they walked toward a nearby table, Azzi leaned into Paige, her voice low and teasing. “You’re ridiculous for being jealous of a teenage boy, you know that right?”

Paige grinned, slipping her arm around Azzi’s waist. “I wasn’t jealous. Just appalled.”

Azzi shook her head, laughing as they settled at their table.

As they sat in the booth, Aliana was perched comfortably on Azzi’s lap, her small hands carefully clutching her cone, she was completely engrossed in devouring her ice cream. Paige sat beside them, her arm draped over the back of the booth. She chuckled as she noticed ice cream starting to drip down Aliana’s chin.

“Hold still, baby girl,” Paige said, grabbing a napkin and leaning over to gently wipe Aliana’s face. “You’re making a mess.”

Azzi laughed softly, glancing at Paige as she swiped her spoon into Paige’s barely-touched bowl of ice cream. “You know, if you’re not going to eat this, I might as well.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Help yourself, thief. I didn’t realize you ordered two desserts.”

Azzi took a dramatic bite, savoring it. “What can I say? Your ice cream always tastes better than mine.”

“That’s because it’s mine,” Paige shot back. “If I wanted to share, I would’ve gotten a bigger bowl.”

Azzi shrugged, unbothered, and took another bite. “Guess you’ll just have to stop me then.”

Paige leaned closer, her voice lowering. “Oh, trust me, I will.”

Azzi leaned in and the rest of the world seemed to fade away. Paige’s smirk deepened as her eyes flicked down to Azzi’s lips licking her own. Azzi raised an eyebrow silently asking her what she was going to do about it. Before their game could escalate, a small voice broke through their moment.

“Mama... Mommy,” Aliana said, her voice drawing their attention. Both women turned to look at her, their teasing forgotten.

Aliana tilted her head up, her big brown eyes wide and innocent, her dimple peeking through as she smiled up at them. Her face was smeared with vanilla ice cream, and a tiny portion sat on the tip of her nose.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh as she reached out to gently swipe the ice cream from her daughter’s nose. “What is it, princess?”

Aliana grinned, holding up her sticky cone proudly. “This is the best ice cream ever!”

Azzi chuckled, pulling back her daughter’s curls into a ponytail so she wouldn’t get ice cream in her hair. “Yeah? You think so, huh?”

Aliana nodded enthusiastically, her giggles bubbling as she looked between her moms. “But... I think you love each other more than ice cream.”

Paige and Azzi exchanged a look, both breaking into warm laughter. Paige leaned over, pressing a kiss to Aliana’s sticky cheek. “You’re not wrong, pretty girl.”

Azzi smiled, wrapping her arms more securely around Aliana and resting her chin lightly on her daughter’s head. “But you’re our favorite, even more than ice cream.”

Aliana beamed, her dimple deepening. “Good! ’Cause I love you both more than ice cream too.”

Paige’s eyes widened in playful surprise, her blue eyes sparkling as she leaned in closer. “Oh wow, that’s a big deal. You sure you can commit to that?”

Aliana nodded enthusiastically, her face lighting up with pride. “You guys are my favorite-est!”

Azzi shook her head in amusement as she reached down to wipe Aliana’s face. “Ana, baby, you don’t have to add the -est at the end.”

Paige chuckled, her hand resting on Azzi’s as she teased, “Maybe she’s just really emphasizing it for dramatic effect.”

Aliana giggled, her little face scrunching up with the effort to understand. “I just really reawly love you guys!”

Paige smiled warmly, pulling Aliana closer to kiss the top of her head. “We really really love you too, princess.”

Azzi kissed the other side of Aliana’s head, her voice soft. “You’re our whole world, baby.”

Aliana snuggled into her moms, her ice cream temporarily forgotten, a happy contentment washing over her. “I love you soooo much,” she murmured, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment.

…

Later that night, the house was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. Paige had just finished putting Aliana to bed while Azzi was in the shower, taking some extra time to wash her hair. The bathroom door opened, and steam flowed out as Azzi stepped into the bedroom, her hair still damp.

Paige, already sprawled out on the bed in her pajamas, let out a low, playful whistle. “Well, damn,” she teased, a smirk tugging at her lips.

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Shut up hornball,” she muttered, though her tone was affectionate.

“Is she asleep?” Azzi asked, rubbing a towel through her curls as she made her way to the dresser.

Paige nodded, her eyes following Azzi’s every move. “Out like a light,” she replied, leaning back against the pillows.

Azzi finally tossed the towel aside and turned toward the bed. The warm glow from the bedside lamp bathed the room in a soft light as she climbed onto the bed, settling herself over Paige to straddle her hips resting her hands on Paige’s stomach.

Paige’s gaze softened, her hands instinctively resting on Azzi’s waist. It always amazed Azzi how her wife looked at her as if she were the most breathtaking thing in the world, even after all these years.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, the silence filled with a comfortable warmth as they took in each other’s presence after their long day. Then Azzi leaned down, her damp curls cascading to one side as her lips met Paige’s in a kiss.

Paige sighed into the kiss, her thumbs brushing lightly over the fabric of Azzi’s shirt where it rested on her hips. Azzi pulled back slightly, her brown eyes meeting Paige’s. “Are you tired?” she asked softly.

Paige shook her head, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “No. You?”

Azzi mirrored her response with a small shake of her head. “No,” she murmured, leaning back down to plant soft, lingering kisses along Paige’s neck.

Paige closed her eyes, her breath hitching as Azzi’s lips trailed over her skin. Her hands instinctively tightened their hold on Azzi’s waist, pulling her just a little closer.

When Azzi found a particularly sensitive spot, she bit down gently, eliciting a low groan from Paige. Azzi chuckled softly against her skin, her breath warm as she said, “You gotta be quiet.”

Paige mumbled, “Yeah, yeah I will.”

Azzi smirked, pressing another kiss to the same spot she’d bitten, satisfied with the way Paige’s body responded. “You always say that,” she mumbled, her lips brushing against Paige’s skin as she continued kissing her neck, “but then you’re not.”

Paige let out a soft scoff, her hands gliding up Azzi’s sides. “You don’t really have room to talk.”

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully, lifting her head just enough to shoot Paige a look. “Whatever,” she muttered before trailing more kisses down Paige’s neck, taking her time to savor the moment but also moving with a little quickness having been interrupted the last few times.

Paige’s breathing grew heavier as Azzi moved lower. Paige’s hands slid to rest on Azzi’s shoulders, grounding herself as the warmth between them grew.

Azzi paused, sitting up briefly to tug off her shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Her damp curls framed her face as she leaned back down, her lips now traveling further down Paige’s body.

Paige let out a shaky breath, her fingers tangling in Azzi’s curls as she tried to keep herself composed. Her jaw tightened, her chest rising and falling a little more rapidly as she fought to stay quiet.

But just as Azzi reached Paige’s waistband, a small, sleepy voice called out from the other side of the door. “Mama?”

Paige froze, her eyes snapping open as her hands flew up to cover her face. She groaned quietly, the sound muffled by her palms.

Azzi stilled, dropping her forehead to Paige’s stomach with an exasperated laugh. “Of course,” she mumbled, her voice tinged with slight amusement.

Azzi sighed, still resting her forehead on Paige’s stomach, reluctant to move and completely let go of the moment. She stayed where she was, just in case whatever was happening on the other side of the door resolved itself quickly.

Without lifting her head, Azzi called out, “Yes, sweetheart?” her voice is gentle but carries through the room. She knew Paige might need a few more seconds to gather herself before speaking.

There was a pause before Aliana’s voice called back, recognizing Azzi’s voice. “No, I want Mama!”

Paige let out a soft laugh, running her hands over her face one last time before lowering them to her sides. She looked down at Azzi, who was still sprawled against her with a small grin.

They both chuckled before Paige finally yelled, “What’s wrong, baby?”

The answer came almost immediately, and they could practically hear the pout in Aliana’s voice as she replied, “I wanna sleep with you.”

Azzi sighed again, this time with a mixture of amusement and defeat, her lips curling into a smile. She leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Paige’s lips before sitting up. “We tried,” she muttered, a playfulness in her eyes.

Paige smiled, watching as Azzi stood and moved to open the door. Azzi scooped Aliana up effortlessly, cradling her against her chest as she walked back toward the bed. Aliana, as if on cue, practically threw herself into Paige’s arms, a loud giggle escaping her.

It was always amusing to Paige and Azzi how, at times, their daughter would make up her mind so suddenly about who she wanted to hold her. One moment she’d reach for Azzi relentlessly, the next, she’d be crying over Paige, with no rhyme or reason.

“Mommy, where’s your shirt?” Aliana asked innocently, her wide brown eyes filled with curiosity.

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh. “Mommy was hot,” she replied easily, raising an eyebrow as she climbed back into the bed with them.

Aliana scrunched up her little face and pouted slightly, “It’s cold in here.”

Paige grinned at her daughter’s observation. Without warning, she tickled Aliana’s sides, causing the little girl to burst into uncontrollable giggles. The playful sound filled the room as Aliana squirmed in Paige’s arms, losing her train of thought.

Paige laughed along, her heart swelling with the simple joy of the moment, before she finally relented and stopped. “Alright, alright time to go to bed, smartie pants,” she teased, kissing the top of Aliana’s head before leaning over to kiss Azzi softly.

Azzi, smiling at the interaction, reached over and turned off the lamp, the soft glow of the room now replaced by the darkness of the night.

Aliana, still giggling a little, settled onto Paige’s chest, her tiny body relaxing as she snuggled in. Paige gently pulled her thumb out of her mouth, trying to encourage her to break the habit early.

After a moment, Paige pulled Azzi closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her lips. The softness of Azzi’s body against hers was grounding, like a constant she never wanted to let go of.

Aliana, not to be left out these days, huffed in a mock-disgruntled way, pulling Paige’s face toward hers and giving her a small pout. “No kissing, Mama. Only for me” she said, making Paige and Azzi laugh softly at the interruption.

“Goodnight, princess,” Paige whispered, talking to Azzi but kissing Aliana’s forehead.

“Goodnight, my love,” Azzi added softly, leaning over to place a quick kiss on Paige’s cheek.

The room fell quiet, except for the soft breaths of their daughter as she drifted off to sleep while Paige and Azzi laid there mumbling to each other quietly about everything and nothing.

…

The next morning, Paige woke up alone, the large bed beside her empty. She stretched, groggily pulling the blankets around her as she lay there for a moment, her hair sprawled across the pillow in soft tangles. The quiet morning settled around her until the sound of Aliana’s voice reached her ears from downstairs.

“I want Mama!” her daughter’s voice rang out, followed by Azzi’s, a little gentler, “Mama’s sleeping, baby. Patience, remember.”

Paige smiled to herself at the sound, but then a sudden clatter broke the peace, and Azzi’s voice, a little louder now, called out, “Aliana Bueckers you know better!” Paige couldn't help but chuckle softly under her breath at her wife’s tone.

Paige groaned softly and stretched again, dragging herself out of bed. She quickly pulled her hair into a messy bun and shuffled to the bathroom to brush her teeth before heading downstairs.

When she walked into the kitchen, the first thing she noticed was Aliana, sitting in her high chair with tears streaming down her face, clearly upset. Azzi was standing by the stove, holding a spatula, her back slightly turned toward the table.

Before she could process much else, Aliana’s arms shot out toward her, wailing, “Mama!”

Paige’s heart twisted but she immediately moved toward Azzi first, gently taking the spatula from her hand. “I got it, baby,” she said softly, planting a quick kiss on Azzi’s lips, “And good morning, beautiful.”

Azzi smiled at the affection, her eyes soft, but Aliana’s whine grew louder, impatient at the attention between them. The little girl reached for Paige desperately, her arms outstretched. Lately, whenever Paige showed Azzi any affection, Aliana seemed to try and push Azzi away, saying, “No, Mommy!” as if she couldn’t stand the idea of sharing Paige’s attention.

Paige couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound of Aliana’s jealousy endearing despite the chaos it created.

Azzi sighed and smiled, stepping back slightly. “You don’t have to baby. I got it.”

Paige kissed Azzi one more time, murmuring, “Go, relax. I got this.” Azzi didn’t argue this time, offering Paige a smile before walking out of the kitchen.

Paige turned back to the stove and flipped the pancake before going over to Aliana, her arms opening to gather the little girl into her arms. “Hey, baby girl,” Paige whispered softly, kissing the top of her head and calming her down with gentle rocking.

It took a few moments, but soon enough, Aliana’s tears subsided, and she relaxed in Paige’s arms. Paige smiled down at her daughter, brushing a stray curl from her forehead before speaking again.

“You need to apologize to Mommy, pretty girl,” Paige said softly, her tone a little more serious.

Aliana whined at the idea, her lower lip trembling, but Paige’s voice remained firm. “Aliana.”

Reluctantly, Aliana stopped whining, looking up at Paige with big, innocent eyes.

“You love Mommy, don’t you?” Paige asked gently.

Aliana’s eyes immediately brightened, and she nodded enthusiastically, her dimple popping out as she grinned. Paige’s heart melted, and she gave her daughter another kiss on the forehead.

“Exactly,” Paige replied. “And you did something you weren’t supposed to, baby.”

Aliana’s face fell, a small pout forming on her lips as she looked down at her hands.

Paige’s voice was gentle but insistent as she continued, “What did you do wrong, sweet girl? Can you tell me?”

Aliana’s pout deepened, and her little eyes glistened with the start of more tears thinking about it. In her three-year-old words, she hesitated for a moment before speaking up, her voice tiny. “Threw fruit... momma made me... and I’m not posed to…”

Paige hummed, nodding as she listened. “And why is that bad, baby?”

Aliana looked up at Paige, her bottom lip quivering as she answered in her best logic, “I need to be gwateful... and use my words…”

Paige’s heart swelled with pride as she listened to her daughter’s simple but important understanding. She nodded, her smile tender. “Exactly, baby.”

She gently wiped away Aliana’s wet cheeks, smoothing her hair back. “You don’t need to cry, sweet girl. You’re not in trouble. You just need to understand why what you did was wrong.”

Paige carefully lifted Aliana onto the counter. Aliana’s small face remained serious for a moment before it softened into a look of understanding.

“There’s no need to cry, okay?” Paige reassured her gently, resting a hand on her daughter’s back. “We just want you to learn, so you can be the best girl you can be.”

Aliana gave a small nod, her lips still pouting but her little body relaxing into Paige’s touch.

Paige helped Aliana down from the counter. The moment her feet hit the ground, Aliana ran, her little legs moving fast as she darted toward the living room. Paige smiled as she watched her daughter, the sound of her bare feet slapping against the floor filling the house.

Azzi was sitting on the couch, a book in her hands, but she immediately looked up when she heard Aliana’s excited giggles. She put the book down and smiled, watching Aliana’s wild morning hair bounce with each step.

Aliana clumsily climbed up onto the couch, her tiny hands grabbing at the cushion before she scrambled into Azzi’s lap, her eyes wide and sincere.

“I’m sorry for doin’ somethin’ I’m not posed to,” Aliana said, her voice a little jumbled as she tried to get the words out. “I love fruit... I pwomise I’m gwateful mommy.”

Azzi’s heart melted as she smoothed out Aliana’s wild curls. “It’s okay, sweet girl,” she whispered, kissing the top of Aliana’s head.

Aliana’s face lit up at the words, her little dimple popping out as she looked up at Azzi with wide eyes. “You not mad at me?” she asked, her voice full of hope.

Azzi couldn’t help but laugh softly, pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek. “I could never be mad at you.”

The two of them stayed there for a while, Aliana nestled comfortably in Azzi’s lap, watching her as Azzi continued reading. Every so often, Aliana would try to “read” the book too, her eyes tracing the words, but it was clear she was more focused on mimicking Azzi than actually recognizing the text. She’d point at random words, saying them as if she understood, but it was all just part of her little pretend game.

The warmth of the moment wrapped around them both until Paige’s voice cut through the quiet. She stood at the entrance of the living room with a smile.

“Breakfast is ready, bookworms,” Paige called out.

Azzi and Aliana both looked up, Aliana’s face breaking into a grin. “We coming, Mama!” she giggled.

Azzi smiled at Paige, before giving Aliana a gentle squeeze. “Come on, baby, let’s go eat,” she said, helping Aliana slide off her lap and stand up.

Aliana, still holding onto Azzi’s hand, ran ahead toward the kitchen, giggling all the way. Paige watched them go, her eyes full of love, before she followed them into the kitchen,

They sat down at the kitchen table, the morning light streaming through the windows, casting a soft glow over the scene. Aliana, sat between her two mothers, clasped her hands together in front of her. Her small voice was a little jumbled as she started her prayer, mimicking the words Paige had taught her.

"Th-thank you for mommy, and mama... and... food..." Aliana stumbled through the words, her little brow furrowing as she focused hard, trying to remember everything. Paige and Azzi both smiled down at her, their hearts swelling at the sight of their daughter trying so earnestly.

When Aliana finished, she looked up at them with her big brown eyes, full of innocence and pride for having made it through her prayer. There was a brief pause before, with no warning, Aliana grabbed both of their heads and pulled them together in a surprise move.

Paige and Azzi blinked in shock, but before they could react, Aliana giggled, her tiny hands pushing their faces together. “Kiss!” she demanded with a smile.

Caught off guard but amused, Paige leaned in and kissed Azzi softly, the light touch between them full of affection. Aliana beamed at the sight, her dimple deepening as she witnessed her parents sharing the love she had so often seen and now randomly enjoyed.

With the kiss over, Aliana clapped her hands together, clearly satisfied with the result, before turning her attention to the food on the table.

"Yay!" she cheered, reaching for a fork, eager to dive into her breakfast.

Paige and Azzi laughed softly, their hearts light as they both picked up their utensils.

…

Later that day as they walked back into the house, the weight of a long practice settled around them. Both Paige and Azzi had already showered, their muscles still buzzing with the remnants of the workout.

Aliana, as usual, had run herself ragged in the practice facility. The little girl had spent the better part of the session darting around, mimicking the moves of the older players, laughing as she tried to keep up with them. By the time they’d made it home, she had passed out cold in Paige’s arms, her tiny body nestled against her mom’s shoulder. Paige walked carefully, trying not to disturb her, the soft weight of Aliana’s breath against her neck lulling her into a sense of peace.

They reached Aliana's room, and Paige gently laid her down on the bed, pulling off her shoes and tucking the blankets around her. She lingered for a moment, brushing a few stray hairs from Aliana’s face and kissing her forehead softly.

Turning to Azzi, Paige smiled softly. “I’ll grab our bags from the car, baby you can go relax,” she said, her voice warm, filled with the ease of being home.

Azzi returned the smile, but before Paige could step away, Azzi pulled her closer, cupping her face with both hands and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. The kiss started slow, tender, but quickly deepened as Azzi shifted the energy between them. Paige’s lips parted in surprise as Azzi’s hand slid down her back, pulling her closer, the heat of their bodies radiating through the air.

Azzi’s lips hovered against Paige’s, breath warm as she whispered, “Meet me in the room when you’re done.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat as Azzi pulled back, her hands moving to strip off her shirt, revealing the toned muscles of her back. She turned around swaying her hips with an effortless confidence as she walked toward their bedroom.

Paige stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide as her mind raced to catch up with the sight before her. The sight of Azzi’s back, the way her body moved with such natural grace, sent a jolt of desire through Paige. She blinked, her heart pounding, before shaking herself out of her daze.

Without a second thought, Paige turned and practically ran down the stairs, eager to finish what she'd started.

By the time Paige reached the top of the stairs again, her breath still uneven from her run, her eyes searched the room for Azzi. She found her, of course, sitting on the bed. The sight of her wife in their private space, in their sanctuary, made the rest of the world feel distant. Paige closed the door behind her, her voice slipping into the room with. “Can’t wait, huh?”

Azzi, hearing the door close, looked up slowly. Her eyes locked onto Paige’s, a mischievous smile curving her lips. "You better hurry up," she teased, her tone drenched in that sultry, warmth that always made Paige’s pulse quicken.

Paige couldn’t help but smile, a gleam in her eyes. “Trust me I’m taking my time with you today,” she murmured.

Paige’s fingers brushed against the hem of her shirt, swiftly yanking it over her head, her eyes never leaving Azzi's. Paige lingered for just a moment, hovering inches away from Azzi, the heat between them building as if the room itself could feel the anticipation.

Without warning, Paige grinned, using her strength to roll them both to the side, pulling Azzi on top of her. Azzi’s laughter bubbled up, a sound Paige adored. The weight of Azzi’s body on hers sent a surge of warmth through Paige’s chest as she didn’t hesitate to pull Azzi closer, her hands sliding firmly to her wife’s hips, giving her a playful tug. Azzi’s lips met hers in an urgent, desperate kiss, their mouths moving together in sync, catching up on all the little moments they'd missed.

They slowed the pace, savoring each kiss, each touch, as if they had all the time in the world, and for the night, they did. The world outside their bedroom felt far away, and even though their daughter slept soundly just down the hall, Paige and Azzi had carved out their own world in that moment just like they promised to always do when they said their vows.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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