#she’d act like she hadn’t seen them in years

[jtargaryen18]

The Arrangement ~ Chapter 7

Series Masterlist

Words: 9.4k

Pairing: Thomas Shelby (Peaky Blinders) x Reader F

Warnings: Angst, shaming someone with religion, oppressive historical views on women, pregnancy, arranged marriage to a stranger, references to depression, more angst.

Three months later, Tommy isn't handling the fact that she left him well at all. The reader went to care for her mother at her uncle's house in Ipswich not knowing it was just another cage with the key held by a religious zealot. She also has a secret she can't hide for long. Rory is literally f*cking done with Tommy.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site.

It had been three months since she left. Eighty-nine days, to be exact.

Tommy stood in front of the wardrobe, his shirt sleeves rolled up, a cigarette dangling from between his lips. He wasn’t late yet, but time didn’t matter like it used to. He’d gotten faster at going through the motions and pretending everything was fine. His suits were pressed, his boots shined. All his plans were drawn and being executed.

But under all of it, he was rotting.

The people closest to him noticed, particularly Polly. Tommy snapped more at the men in the shop, at family dinners. At Finn for breathing too loudly. At Polly for looking at him like she knew something he hadn’t said out loud. His patience had quickly turned to ash.

Meetings dragged? He’d cut them short. Whispers carried through the betting floor? He’d slam a drawer hard enough to shut everyone up. One too many questions about the next job or shipment? He’d light a cigarette and walk out without answering. He couldn’t stand it, any of it. The hesitation in a man’s voice or the subtle way someone said “she” and then corrected to “the girl.” The nervous glances when someone dared bring up Ipswich. It all scraped like broken glass behind his eyes.

And God help anyone who said the wrong thing on the wrong day. Because Tommy Shelby didn’t yell. He dismissed. And lately, he’d been doing a lot of that. Even Ada had said something last week, something gentle and irritating. “You don’t sleep, Tom. And you look like you haven’t in months.”

She wasn’t wrong. The nightmares were back at least twice a week now. And he didn’t even answer that. Why the fuck should he?

His fingers skimmed the hangers. Suit. Shirt. Waistcoat. He paused. The charcoal grey. The waistcoat he hadn’t worn since… He remembered the button. It had popped off weeks before she left and he’d meant to have it fixed, but never bothered. He went to shove it back in the wardrobe. But then… he didn’t. He took a closer look.

The buttons, all of them, new. The stitching was tight, neat. She’d done it. Not with a machine. Not like the shirts she’d altered or the coats she’d hemmed.These were hand-stitched. Deliberate. She’d never said a word. Just mended it. And that quiet, ordinary act cut deeper than any scream. Sinking down on the edge of the bed, waistcoat in his lap, he stared at the damn thing like it might disappear. His throat ached.

She had touched this. She’d sat here, in this room, with needle and thread, and left something behind. Something she never meant to break him.

But it did.

Rising, because he wasn’t going to do this again, he shoved it back into the wardrobe and slammed the door like it burned him.

Polly was pouring herself a second cup of tea when he made it downstairs. He didn’t speak. Neither did she. It had been like this for a while now. But when she turned to pass him the sugar, he caught it. That look. It wasn’t quite pity. It was just the knowing. Like she’d seen this kind of heartbreak before and had the nerve to survive it. He took the sugar and the tea and he still didn’t say a bloody word. But he was sick of that look. He was even more sick of the silence wrapped around her name, her ghost in this house. Tommy couldn’t handle it today so he left.

The air was thick with smoke and fresh ink when he reached the betting shop. John and Liam were hunched over paperwork, Arthur sharpening a blade for reasons unknown. Rory was already there. Dressed clean in a dark suit, cap in his lap. Quiet as always and waiting for orders.

Tommy watched him for a long moment. Rory didn’t talk unless spoken to. He didn’t crack jokes or show off like his brothers did. He followed orders with sharp precision and an almost ruthless focus. He’d struggled at the start,Tommy remembered that clearly. That first incident with all the blood and panic, the job that went too far. It shook Rory to his core and Tommy knew that was the moment Tommy was going to find out if the lad had what it took. Rory came back the next day and every day since. And now? Rory looked and acted like he’d always been one of them. A proper Blinder.

Lighting a cigarette, Tommy leaned back in his chair, and let his gaze flick over the room. Over his men, his empire. They were all in place.

And still, his mind drifted.

Would she even recognize her brother now? Would she be proud? Or would she hate Tommy more for turning him into this? He exhaled slow, smoke curling past his lip.

He couldn’t get her out of his fucking head. And it was starting to cost him.

Tommy knew it wasn’t only him being affected by the entire situation. His men and family were paying a toll too, and he just couldn’t bring himself to care.

He noticed. The way they moved around him now, like he was as dangerous as thin, cracked glass. John didn’t joke as much. Not with him. Arthur, who was always the loudest voice in any room, had started clearing his throat and waiting for Tommy to speak first. Even Finn, his sharp, excitable youngest brother, looked at him like he was a lit fuse on a short string. And Liam? Liam stopped making eye contact altogether. They were almost too careful. Tiptoeing around the landmine they couldn’t name.

Tommy hated it. But he also needed it. If they treated him like nothing was wrong or tried to talk to him like normal, he thought he might actually crack. One of them might say her name or look too long at the empty chair she used to sit in. He’d remember the way she smiled at him when he made it home late, and she was already in his bed.

So no, he didn’t want their fucking pity. Their fear? That, he could live with because it meant the silence was still holding. And as long as they stayed quiet, he didn’t have to admit how badly he was losing.

Tommy was at the books, flipping pages without seeing a single number, when Rory cleared his throat. Tommy didn’t look up right away. The kid had that stiff, uneasy look in his shoulders. Rory looked like someone approaching a man who might explode if he made the wrong move. Today it was bloody possible.

“Something you need, Rory?”

The lad straightened his posture. “I was wondering if I could take a few days, sir, to visit family.”

That got his attention. Ipswich. That was where he was going, not even a question. And Tommy knew, of course he bloody knew, that Rory hadn’t spoken her name once since she left. Not even in passing, and she was his bloody sister. But she was still there, behind his eyes. In the quiet between his sentences.

Snapping the book shut, he said, “Go.”

Caution bled into the younger man’s expression. “Thank you. I’ll be back–”

“I said go.” The words came sharper than intended.

At that Rory froze before stepping back without another word.

Tommy stared down at the book, his fists clenched against the table edge. Of course the lad had earned the time. He was loyal and focused. Exactly what Tommy needed. But today wasn’t about Rory.

It was always her. And the goddamn ache in his chest that hadn’t left in three months.

The thought of Rory walking into his uncle’s house, seeing her… maybe seeing the truth of what she was becoming without him? It killed him. Because he didn’t know. And the not knowing, that was what gnawed at him most.

Was she safe? Was she eating? Did she have something to ease the pain when her time came each month? Was she sewing again, like she used to in the mornings, her hair tied back, her eyes narrowed with focus as her fingers worked the fabric? Or had she stopped? Had she buried the needle and thread like he’d tried to bury the sound of her voice? Was she quiet now, like Rory? Hollowed out and just going through the days? Or worse, was she okay? Had she healed? Had she already forgotten him? Had she met someone, some good, simple bastard who didn’t orchestrate her downfall and call it a lesson?

Tommy gritted his teeth just thinking about it all for the hundredth time. He wanted her to be happy. That’s what he told himself anyway. He told himself that if she could find peace, it was enough.

But peace without him? It fucking burned.

And now Rory, his Rory, was walking back into her world. He’d see her and hear her voice. Maybe he’d be privileged to see something in her that Tommy no longer had a right to touch. And that was unbearable too.

He told himself he didn’t need to know, but that wasn’t the truth. Because at night, when the house was quiet, when the betting slips were tucked away, when the whiskey stopped working, she came back to him in flashes. That last night in the safe house. The way her voice cracked when she asked why. The way her fists hit his chest like they wanted to punish him and pull him closer all at once. The way her body shook when she let him hold her. He remembered the way she clung to him, not like a lover. Like shelter.

And now? He had no idea if she even had one. Was she lying awake in a strange room? Was she sick? Cold? Tired? Was she…

Pregnant?

The thought slipped through his mind like a crack in a dam. One he didn’t patch fast enough. He tried not to let himself think about that, hadn’t dared. But that possibility was always there in the back of his mind. The what if. The weight of it pulled him under like water.

Tommy remembered everything. The softness of her, the way her breath caught when he touched her. The way her body trusted him before her heart did. And he’d been aware—damn well aware—that protection hadn’t been used. Whenever the thought had occurred to him, he’d told himself it was a mistake. It was a rare lapse in control or a consequence of the chaos.

But that was a fucking lie too. He knew better than most how to control outcomes. Deep down, under every cold decision and calculated silence, he’d wanted that risk, had wanted to tether her to him in a way that couldn’t be undone. Claiming her heart might’ve felt impossible… But claiming her blood? That felt like something he could do.

What if she was? What if, right now, as he sat behind his desk pretending to give a damn about supply chains and shipment logs, she was out there dealing with it alone? What if she were growing something that belonged to both of them? To him.

His hands stilled on the desk. His child. Hers. A life created in the middle of a mess she never asked for. And the world would call that child a scandal. A mistake. The result of a war that no one won.

But Tommy? He’d probably spend an extra hundred years in purgatory for thinking it, but to him, it would be salvation. Because if she was carrying his child, then it wasn’t over.

And if he learned that was her condition and that uncle of hers, if anyone, tried to take her away, marry her off, hide her in some quiet Ipswich corner like a shameful secret… He’d burn the whole goddamn town to the ground.

Because that child? That would be his reason, redemption. It would be a second chance to get it right. He’d take her back, with flowers or fire. Whatever it took.

He dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard. His chest felt too tight. Like the air in the shop was closing in on him. When Rory got back, should he send a man to see what he could find out?

Tommy didn’t need news. He needed her. Here. Where he could see her and fix what he’d broken, if such a thing was even possible.

But she’d walked away. And he’d let her. And now Rory was going into her new life. And if he came back with news Tommy didn’t want? If he came back saying she’d moved on, or worse, suffered quietly and never said a word… Tommy didn’t know what the hell he’d do.

You hadn’t cried when you left Birmingham. You didn't cry in the car. Not even when you kissed Polly’s cheek, saying goodbye to her. You didn't shed a tear when you watched Birmingham disappear behind you.

It was Ipswich that made the tears come, quietly and without warning. Here, everything felt muted and controlled. Your uncle’s house sat like a church, clean, cold, and filled with words no one said out loud. Not just because he was a religious man. Apparently grief had made him that way. Your mother explained that he hadn't always been as he was now. There was a time when he smiled. When he danced with his wife in the garden and brought home little gifts from the market for his son. You didn't remember much about him. You'd only seen him twice in your life, both times before you were five years old.

But all of that died in 1914. The Spanish flu took his wife and son within days of each other. And something in him cracked, the wound was deep. He filled the empty spaces with structure, sermons, and devout silence. Apparently he drowned his sorrow in devotion to the church. 

By the time he got the two of you to Ipswich, he regarded you as a problem, a liability. He knew about the wager and honestly, he saw you as proof of how far the world had fallen. You weren’t his niece anymore because you were 'spoiled.' You were the girl he didn’t speak of in public.

You'd made it three days before you broke, talking to your mother finally when your uncle left to go to market. You’d told her everything when the house was still unfamiliar and your room too quiet to sleep in. You sat at her beside and let it all out. The wager. The lies. Tommy's offer and his truth.

You'd expected no less than fury and outrage. You expected your mother to hate him on your behalf. But as your mother usually did, she just listened, all quiet and calm. Her gaze never left yours. She didn’t interrupt. She didn’t even flinch at the uglier parts. She allowed you to let it all spill out like something you’d been choking on for weeks. And when it was done, when your voice broke and the silence wrapped around you both, she looked thoughtful. 

Your mother sat very still once you’d told her everything. And when the silence had stretched long enough to wrap around the both of you, she just looked stunned. “The Thomas Shelby fell in love with my daughter.”

Your head snapped toward her, brows lifting in disbelief. “What?”

She looked at you like you were the one missing the obvious. “You think I can’t see it?” she asked softly. “The way he took care of you. He had me protected from Sean.” She shook her head gently. “Men like him don’t go to such lengths. Not unless they care.”

"Mum, he's a gangster," you pointed out.

"I know who he is. He's still a man," she told you. "Him being a gangster, to me, would only make him less likely to do what he did."

You opened your mouth. Then closed it again. “Mum, he... he manipulated everything from the start. I was a prize. A message to Small Heath. That's why he did it.”

Her smile didn’t fade. It was small, sad, and far too wise for your liking. “I don't think so. He saw you before all this mess started, at the house on Gray Street, didn't he? I remember when he came to our door that day. His eyes were on you the whole time. It worried me because of his reputation and I tried to hurry up with Mrs. March so I could wait on him but you got to him first. And he lingered. But he didn't come back after that so I put it out of my mind until the wager came up. I thought Sean had lost his mind, putting my girl up like that. It was terrifying. All of it.”

You remember the day he came to have his coat mended the way she described it. 

She sighed. "I've known Polly Gray for years. We're not friends by any means but we've crossed paths and despite all the things said about her, I think she's a good woman... The morning she came to pull me out of our house, your father's house, she told me what was going on."

Wait. "You knew?"  

"I didn't know about all of the relations between the two of you." She laughed. "But from one mother to another she let me know you were safe and unharmed. You were being looked after. Made me realize she cared about you too. And I don't get the impression that she likes very many people."

You thought a lot of Polly too. You looked down at your hands, fingers twisting in your lap. “He didn’t say he loved me.”

“He didn’t have to.” Your mother touched your cheek, the way she had when you were small and worried about something bigger than yourself. It didn't hurt anymore from the blow Sean gave you though the bruise looked a lot worse. “Don't you understand? It was you. You were the reason he did all of it.”

Her words caught you off guard. “How?”

"If you're right, he instigated the wager," your mother explained, "and that night, he didn't allow you to fall into his brother's hands. He moved you into his house. Think of that."

"He was hiding me from Small Heath." You hated how small your voice sounded.

"Then why didn't he stash you away in the house where I was? Why his home?"

You didn't have an explanation for that except... "I was in his bed every night."

Your mother shook her head. "With his family in the house? If you were no better than a whore, why did he expose his family to that? He wanted his family to know he valued you, wanted you to build relationships with them."

And you really had. You adored Ada and Finn. Arthur won you over after everything with his rough charm and sense of humor. John had enjoyed flirting with you just to wind his brother up. But he was always kind. They had all accepted you.

“You may have been in the man's bed,” she went on. “But I know you. If you'd been forced, this would have been a very different conversation... I think you might love him too.”

You didn’t answer. You  really couldn’t. But deep down... maybe she wasn’t wrong.

“Maybe one day, you’ll forgive him.”

You didn’t answer. You really couldn’t. What if she was right? Maybe that was the part that really scared you. Now that everything was out in the light, you couldn't escape it. The truth didn’t feel as clean or simple as you’d told yourself it would. It didn’t justify the pain. But it did explain the man. And now you had to live with what that meant.

You thought about his words the night he stood in that quiet room with you. His voice low, eyes dark with something you didn’t dare name.

But if you stay, you’re mine... As my wife, who'll give me a family. Not just in name, but in truth.

You’d left because you were afraid and hurt.You were still struggling to understand why he’d done what he did. Part of you believed he only wanted you to win a fight with the world. He did say that.

But now? Now your mother, who never missed anything, looked at you like you’d been chosen. Not claimed. Not won. Loved.

That made Tommy's ultimatum ache in your chest all over again.

Maybe you didn’t want to just be his. You wanted him to ask again. Not with an ultimatum or the cold certainty of a man who always got what he wanted. But with the hope of someone who finally realized what he had to lose. And if he did? You weren’t sure you’d have the strength to walk away twice.

Weeks passed and you spent most of your days trying to disappear, caring for your mother and hiding in your room when you weren't. You stayed upstairs as much as possible, avoiding the kitchen after dinner and your uncle even more. You tried to keep your head down, to draw no attention.You told yourself that if you were quiet enough, small enough, you could get through it.

But as your mother began to heal, you began to unravel. 

At first, you thought it was just the depression, the weight of everything and the guilt. The ache. The shame of being in a house where love was measured by silence, survival, and religion that you'd never really followed. You weren’t sleeping well. Your body felt sluggish and uncooperative. You cried without warning, grief clinging to the inside of your chest like smoke. You’d be washing linens or peeling potatoes and suddenly feel the tears slip down your face without knowing exactly when they’d started.

And underneath it all was Tommy.

No matter how hard you tried to bury him, he wouldn’t stay gone. Some days, you hated him. Hated the way he’d taken your choices and the quiet, ruthless way he claimed you and made it feel like safety. You hated that he could still make your chest ache even now.

There was the guilt, constantly coiled in your chest like a second heartbeat. You should’ve seen the trap. You told yourself that a hundred times since that day. The maid’s nervous eyes along with the sudden urgency and secrecy. You knew better. And still, you ran out. You let fear drive you, let your heart override your instincts. You allowed the idea of your mother, hurt, dying, alone, to pull you right into Sean O’Grady’s hands.

And someone paid for it. One of Tommy’s men died. A man whose name you never even knew. He died because you ran and didn’t trust the people who had fought to protect you. You let your emotions make the choice. Tommy must have been so disappointed in you. 

Maybe if you’d waited or if you’d told Polly. Maybe if you’d just held on one more hour... Maybe none of it would’ve happened.

You carried that weight now. Every time you placed a stitch or woke to the curl of nausea in your gut. You’d escaped the Shelbys' house. But you’d never escaped what it cost.

Other days… you missed him. So much it made your bones hurt. You missed the silence in his room when the rain hit the windows and the way he always watched you without looking. The way his voice dropped low when he was trying not to be vulnerable. His warmth next to you in bed.

Then came the mornings with the nausea and dizziness.The slow roll of sickness that greeted you with every sunrise. Certain scents turned your stomach like the smell of eggs, your uncle’s shaving soap, even the smell of cooking meat. Food had no taste anymore. Most days, you barely ate and blamed the stress. But you couldn’t blame it forever.

Because somewhere around the beginning of the second month in Ipswich, when your mother started walking unaided and your uncle began praying louder at meals, you realized something else. You hadn’t bled. Not since that week when Tommy gave you laudanum to help you sleep and treated you carefully... Not since the night he carried you to bed and held you until you fell asleep.

The realization hit you like cold water. You were pregnant. And now… Now you carried a piece of him with you. Would he or she have his eyes?

Fear was a desperate thing that clawed at your insides. What would he do if he found out?

He had to hate you for leaving. Would he accuse you of hiding it from him? Would he take the baby from you? You knew he easily could. You didn't have the resources or money to stop him. You couldn't stop him even if you did.  

Would he try to take you? And would you go? Because if he showed up tomorrow, coat collar turned up, that expression in his eyes that always saw too much, what would you do?

You didn’t know and it terrified you. 

By the third month, you were sewing with your mother in the kitchen after church which you weren't allowed to attend. 

Your mother’s gaze caught yours. “Darling,” she said softly, “how far along are you?”

The question didn’t catch you off guard. Not after everything. But it still made your throat tighten. You lowered your gaze. “Almost three months, I think.”

She nodded once, slowly. “I thought so. You’ve been pale. Sick in the mornings. I wasn’t sure… but I knew it in my bones.” Another pause. “And I don’t want to upset you. But I have to ask…”

You looked up.

“Do you want to keep it?” she asked, her voice calm. Not judgmental. Just kind. “Because I know how my brother will react. I know the shame he’ll try to pin on you. And if it’s too much, love, if it’s not something you want, I know someone--”

“No.” The answer came before you even finished the breath. Your hand moved to your stomach without thinking. “No,” you repeated, more gently this time. “This baby… it’s mine. I want it.”

A flicker of pride passed through your mother’s expression, then fierce resolve. “Then I’ll suport you. Whatever comes. You hear me?”

You nodded, eyes stinging. “I don’t know how I’m going to do this.”

“You don’t have to know yet,” she said. “You just have to hold your ground.”

Around that time, your mother was well enough to start taking in seamstress work again. It was familiar, something she could do from home, something that kept her hands busy and her mind distracted. Your uncle approved, of course. As long as it was honest work, modest and quiet. But you were another story.

You were not to be seen. Not to speak to the women who dropped off garments or even in the front room. You weren’t to answer the door or offer tea or even be heard. You could sew and you were grateful for that, to have the opportunity to keep your mind occupied and to help make money for the household. But you would remain unseen, like a paraiah.

So you stitched quietly at the kitchen table or in your upstairs room, your hands moving while your thoughts drifted elsewhere. Some days, the sewing helped. Your fingers moved on instinct now, hemming sleeves, patching worn fabric, replacing buttons. But sometimes, when the light hit the table just right, when the hush of the house settled too deep around you, it took you back. To that sewing machine in the sitting room.To the soft hum of it beneath your hands. To the way Polly hovered nearby with her teacup, offering advice you hadn’t asked for but secretly appreciated. Or Arthur, rough, grumbly Arthur, making some offhand comment about you fixing his shirts “for free now,” and acting like he wasn’t touched when you actually did. You hadn’t realized then how much peace those moments held. How rare it was to feel safe. Even if it was an illusion and came at a cost.

Back then, you’d stitched up more than clothes. You’d started stitching yourself back together.

Now, with each new piece of fabric beneath your hands, you felt those threads fray all over again. And you missed the quiet comfort of a man watching you from across the room, pretending not to care while memorizing every movement of your hands. 

Your mother had gone to market with your uncle today to get more sewing supplies. You didn’t hear the front door open, just the creak of the floorboards and the winding rushing around your uncle's small house. Your needle paused mid-stitch. Then light footsteps. You looked up, and there stood your brother Rory, dressed as he always was in his worn coat, boots dusty from the road, his cap in his hand. 

In the last week, you'd sent him a letter. You’d written it late one night, candle flickering beside you while the house creaked with the kind of silence that felt like a warning. Your mother had been asleep. Your uncle, too. And you’d sat there for what felt like an hour with your pen hovering, trying to find the words. You told him just enough. That you missed him. That you hoped he was safe. That things weren’t easy here. That you needed to see him--soon.

But not the rest. That part you’d say face to face. Because somehow, telling him in ink, cold and flat and impersonal, felt wrong. Rory deserved more than that. Still, as the days passed and your symptoms worsened, the fear kept crawling in. You were showing now. Subtly, yes, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. And if your uncle found out? You didn’t want to think about what he might say or do. Especially if he figured out who the father was and he would.

You folded the letter carefully and tucked it inside your sewing basket, where it would stay hidden until the next time your uncle left for market. And all the while, your hand lingered near your stomach like a shield. You were running out of time. But Rory would come. He always did.

Your breath caught as you laid eyes on him. You hadn’t realized how badly you’d needed to see a familiar face, aside from your mother, that didn’t look through you like you were a burden. But there were differences in him that were hard to pinpoint. He looked older and sterner somehow. 

His eyes, the same warm ones from every childhood memory, went wide the second they landed on you. And he froze looking concerned. Did you look that bad? You knew what he saw. The shadows under your eyes and the weight you’d lost. When you rose from the table, his gaze dropped briefly to your stomach, then away again, so fast you weren’t sure if he’d noticed or just hadn’t dared to ask.

“Rory,” you said softly. "Thank you for coming."

You didn’t realize your hands were trembling until you reached out for him. And then he was across the room, pulling you in tight, like he didn’t care who was watching. No words. And something in you cracked, right there against his shoulder. You hadn’t cried in front of anyone since your confession to your mother. But now? Now you let yourself. Just a little because it was Rory, and he and your mother were the last bit of safety you had in your life right now.

The quiet stretched between you for a while after he let go. Rory sat beside you at the table, glancing around the room like it didn’t feel like home, and it didn't for either of you. You threaded your needle again, hands busy for lack of anything else to do. You weren’t ready to say the things you’d written. Not out loud.

“You look tired,” he said finally, keeping his voice low. “And thin.”

You gave a soft, humorless laugh. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean, I’m worried about you.” His eyes searched yours. 

Your fingers paused, the needle frozen midair. You didn’t answer. You also never mentioned your delicate condition in that letter to your brother but... 

Rory shifted slightly in his seat. He wasn’t angry, just careful. Like he already knew and was just trying to open the door without making you run. “You’re pregnant.”

Tears stung the backs of your eyes before you slowly nodded. The confession sat between you, soft and heavy.

“I’m afraid,” you said quietly. “I’m so afraid our uncle will send me away. I’m afraid I won’t have a say in what happens to me next." Tears slid down your face and you didn't try to conceal them. All you did was cry these days. "I’m afraid if he finds out, he’ll come for the baby.”

“He?”

“Tommy.”

Rory leaned back, brows furrowed, trying to read the truth beneath your voice. “Would he do that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know what he’d do.” You swallowed the lump rising in your throat. “I’m afraid he’d be furious.”

“It’s his.” It wasn't a question.

You met his gaze with steady eyes. “There’s been no one else. I haven’t even left this house since I arrived. I'm not allowed to even go outside.”

That silenced him. For a long moment, he just looked at you. Like he was trying to understand not just what had happened, but what it had done to you.

“You should’ve told me sooner," he said. And he was oddly more composed now. Growing up you supposed.

“Mum knows. That's all. I didn’t know who else to tell.”

Rory reached across the table and gave your hand a small squeeze, the kind that meant I’m here now.

“Tommy must hate me now.” You didn’t mean to say it aloud, but the words slipped out anyway. You were staring down at the fabric in your lap, eyes unfocused, throat tight. You hadn’t realized how deeply you believed it until you heard it in your own voice. “I ran from him. And after everything… after what happened to Mum. I just left. No note or word. What must he think?”

Across from you, Rory leaned forward in his chair. His voice was calm, but firm. “He’s been different.” A pause. “Quiet, meaner in ways that don’t always come out in words.”

You blinked at that.

“He doesn’t shout. He doesn’t drink more than usual. He just… holds things tighter. He's always been impatient but..."

Your lips parted. A question, but no sound.

Rory gave a faint, sad smile. “He's never said your name. Not once.”

You felt the ache bloom behind your ribs. Why would he? He was done with you.

“But he didn’t have to.” Rory let the silence sit a moment longer, then exhaled, glancing toward the window like he was weighing something. 

"How do you know all this?" you had to ask.

“I’ve got a secret too."

You listened, no idea what he was about to say. His voice had shifted. It was lower, more cautious.

“I knew not to come here dressed for it. Uncle would toss me out on my arse if he had the faintest idea.”

You frowned, not following. “Dressed for what?”

He met your eyes then, steady and unflinching. “I’m with the Blinders now.”

The words hit like cold water. Your breath caught, fingers stilling against the fabric in your lap. “What?”

“I’ve been with them since the day you left.” He nodded slowly. “Tommy gave me a job and a better place. He's trained me, trusted me.”

You were stunned. “You... why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it wasn’t the time. And I needed you to see I’m still me.” He gestured to his old boots, his worn jacket. “I knew if I walked in here looking like one of them, you’d shut down before I said a word.”

You didn’t know what to say. But he was right, you would have. Because suddenly, everything felt closer. Tommy. Small Heath. The life you left behind.

You were still staring at him when the words slipped out, barely more than a whisper. “How is he really?”

Rory’s expression didn’t change, but something softened around the edges. He didn’t ask who you meant. He looked down for a second, then spoke quietly. “He’s… not the same.”

That sent a chill through you.

“Not sick,” Rory added quickly. “Not like that. Just…” He hesitated, then shook his head. “He’s angry all the time. Doesn’t show it the way others do, but it’s there. Boiling under everything. He snaps more. Has no patience for anyone. Barely sleeps.”

You swallowed hard. It was the last thing you wanted to hear. 

“But everything he doesn’t say... it’s loud.”

You looked away, your throat tight. “I thought he’d be glad I was gone.”

Rory gave a dry laugh. “If he is, he’s got a strange way of showing it.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “You should’ve seen him the morning when I told him I accepted his offer. He didn’t even ask why. He just nodded because he already knew what it meant.”

“What would it mean?” you asked, your voice barely steady.

Rory looked at you for a long moment. “I'm a way back to you.”

Part of you missed Tommy so much. Ached for him. But it wasn’t that simple.

“I can’t just leave Mum,” you whispered.

“I’m not asking you to,” he said. “I’m just saying… you still have a choice. You do.”

You looked at him, trying to hold it together. But there was so much weight pressing down on your chest, so many things you couldn’t undo.

“There’s the wager,” you said quietly. “And our stepfather. And Tommy… and everything that came after.”

“Yeah,” Rory said. “But you’re no one's coin toss anymore. And Sean O’Grady’s gone. Tommy saw to that.”

You blinked at him. “He didn’t tell me what happened.”

“He wouldn’t,” Rory said. “But you should know--O’Grady won’t touch you again. He’ll never touch anyone again.”

Something cold and final settled in your stomach. The way your brother said that matter-of-factly reminded you of Tommy. 

“And what about Small Heath?” you asked. “That house. That street. Everyone who knew what happened.”

“That house was father’s,” Rory said, sitting up straighter. “Not Sean’s. Our father bought it. Our name’s still on the deed. And if you want it, if you’re willing… you can come back with me. You, me, and Mum if she likes. I’ll get it cleaned up. I’ll protect you. You don’t have to go back to Tommy, or Polly, or the mansion. You can live with me. I’ll take care of everything.”

Your lip trembled. You wanted to.

“I mean it,” Rory added. “It’s your house too.”

It felt like someone had struck a match in the dark. A flicker of light. A door cracked open. You had a home somewhere. Even if you didn’t know where you belonged just yet.

But as your thoughts spiraled, Rory’s voice cut through again, gentle, but honest. “I need to say one more thing,” he murmured. “If you come back to Birmingham… I can’t promise I can keep Tommy away.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“He hasn’t let go of this,” Rory continued. “Of you. I know him better now, and I’ve seen it.” He paused, eyes steady. “I don’t think he's ever stopped waiting for you.”

Your fingers curled tightly in your lap. Waiting for you?

“Maybe he’s not what you want anymore,” Rory added carefully. “I’d understand that. But if you come back, he will find you. And when he finds out about him or her...”

And the worst part? You weren’t sure that scared you. Not in the way it should have.

But before you could reply, the door creaked open behind you, followed by the familiar shuffle of boots on the mat. You straightened in your seat automatically, pulse quickening. Your mother entered first, a little winded from the walk, arms wrapped around a paper parcel. She smiled when she saw Rory.

“Look at you,” she said, crossing to hug him. “You look so handsome.”

"You look much better," he told her. Rory hugged her gently, his eyes flicking past her to the tall shadow lingering in the hall. Your uncle followed a moment later, hanging up his coat and gloves with deliberate slowness.

His gaze landed on you, then on Rory, and his mouth tightened. "Rory, good to see you. I didn't know you were coming." 

"Only here for the day," Rory told him and your heart sank. You'd hoped he'd stay at least a couple of days. 

Your uncle's eyes narrowed on you then. “Did you tell him?”

You froze.

“Tell me what?” Rory asked carefully, his tone casual but neutral.

Your uncle moved into the room like a man entering his pulpit. “About her shame.”

Rory’s spine stiffened, but he said nothing.

“He should know,” your uncle continued, voice clipped as he shot his sister a look. 

"Seamus." Your mother said in a plea for him to be at least hospitable.

“His sister’s carrying a child. A bastard. Conceived out of wedlock, by gypsies no less.”

Your body went still. So did Rory. The realization hit like a splash of cold water. You hadn’t been careful enough. Or maybe he’d been listening all along. Maybe you’d never had privacy in this house to begin with.

Your uncle scoffed, stepping closer to Rory with a sneer curling on his lips. “You think I don’t know who they are?” he said low, voice full of contempt. “The Shelbys. Romani gangsters playing king in the gutters of Birmingham. I’ve read the reports. Heard the names.”

Your uncle jabbed a finger toward you without even looking at you. “And now she’s caught in it. Your father opened this house to weakness. To compromise. And look where it’s brought us.”

The hurt of his words echoed on your mother's face. Rory’s jaw flexed, but he said nothing. 

Your father. He said it like a cautionary tale.Like Malachy’s kindness had been a flaw.Like love was some kind of contagion that ruined a good house. "Opened this house to weakness. To compromise." Your throat thickened with the kind of emotion that had nowhere to go. Weakness? You remembered your father’s hands, rough from labor, gentle in every way that mattered. The way he’d kiss your mother’s forehead before bed.The way he’d teach you how to mend, how to read, how to stand up straight even when your voice trembled.

If that was weakness, the world could use more of it.

Your uncle turned to you, disappointment lining every word. “You’ve embarrassed your mother. You’ve embarrassed me. But the Lord is merciful, and so are some of His followers.”

Reaching into his coat, your uncle pulled out a folded piece of paper. “A Christian farmer, goes to our church. Thirty-two and a landowner. He’s agreed to marry you next Saturday. No questions asked.”

All you could do was stare at the man. “What?”

“You’ll have a home. A husband. He’ll have help on the farm. You’ll be expected to work. To bear sons," he explained. "Be grateful."

“You arranged this without--"

“It’s not up for discussion," your uncle cut you off. 

Rory stood now, slowly, every muscle in his frame tight with restraint. “Uncle,” he said, measured and respectful, “maybe we should talk about this somewhere else.”

The older man turned to him sharply. “And what good would that do?” he snapped. “She needs correction, not coddling.”

Your mother, pale and still silent, sat down heavily at the table. You didn’t even realize your hands were shaking until Rory quietly moved back to your side and reached for one under the table and gave it a light squeeze.

“Thank you,” you said, voice low and hoarse. Your uncle didn’t hear.

He was already going on about schedules and wedding clothes and how the minister was willing to look the other way. But all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears. Your heart beat like a war drum beneath your ribs. Your stomach churned. The room felt smaller with every word.

Then your uncle said, as if the matter was already sewn up, “We’ll speak of it more tomorrow.”

He turned to you, a nod of cold finality. “See to it your brother has a place to sleep, if that’s what he plans.”

Shock rooted you to the chair. You couldn't speak.

Rory did. “I’ll be leaving in the morning.” His voice was calm and steady. But something was boiling beneath the surface, you could tell. The fury in your brother's eyes almost had you bursting into tears. 

Your uncle gave a faint grunt, unimpressed. “Suit yourself.”

Then he left the room without looking back.

You stood there, every nerve in your body drawn tight. Rory didn’t say anything at first. He just placed a hand on your shoulder, gentle and grounding.

Tommy glanced up when someone literally pounded on his office door. "Come in.”

Rory stepped inside and he wasn't wearing his usual suit. He dressed like he had before joining the Blinders. That was the first warning shot Tommy got. The lad had his cap in hand, shoulders tense beneath his tattered coat. Dust from the road clung to his boots. He hadn’t even changed yet and didn’t smile. “Could I have a word?”

Tommy paused, cigarette halfway to his mouth. Something in the lad’s tone, tight and simmering, pulled at him. He gestured toward the door. “Close it.”

The door clicked shut behind Rory. He stood just inside the room, meeting Tommy’s gaze with an angry glare. 

Tommy leaned back in his chair, eyeing him with a faint frown.

“I went to see my sister.”

Tommy sat forward a little at that. Rory’s voice wasn’t cold, it was burning.

“She didn’t leave because she hated you, you know.” His words came fast, like they’d been waiting for days to escape. “She left because our mother needed her. Because the moment she found out my uncle was coming to get Mum, she packed up and went. And you know what she walked into?” He didn’t wait for permission to continue. “A house where the curtains are drawn and shame hangs thicker than the dust. A place where my uncle won’t even let her step outside.” Rory’s jaw clenched. “And she went anyway.”

Tommy stayed quiet, processing the heat rolling off the lad.

“She looks like shite,” Rory said. “Barely eating, thin as a rail. Shadows under her eyes. And you-- ” He stepped forward, his voice cracking. “You want to ask me why she isn't allowed outside that damn house?”

Tommy’s brow knit. He nodded.

Rory snapped. “Why do you think?” The silence that followed was deafening. “She’s pregnant.”

Tommy went still at that way Rory spit out those words.

Rory’s voice dropped, tight and ragged, as if the words scraped their way out of his chest. “And it’s your fault.”

Tommy’s gaze locked with Rory's, but he didn’t interrupt.

“She didn’t do anything wrong,” Rory said, louder now. His fists clenched at his sides. “She didn’t ask for any of this. Not the wager. Not all of you treating her like she was a fuckin' prize at the county fair.”

The words hit like fists. Every syllable.

“She trusted you. Even after what happened. She's in Ipswich right now blaming herself. She thinks you hate her if you can believe that."

The words hung in the air like slow, creeping smoke, impossible to ignore.

“She’s pregnant,” Rory repeated. “And scared out of her mind. She wrote to me for help because she was afraid our fuckin' uncle would just send her away. Ah, but he did better than that." Rory laughed bitterly. “Now he’s trying to marry her off to a man she’s never met. Some farmer from church who needs a broodmare more than a wife.”

Tommy’s chest rose slowly with breath, but it didn’t ease anything. 

Rory stepped forward, fury barely restrained. Still going. “You said you’d take care of her. You said she’d be safe. I trusted you, Mr. Shelby!”

Tommy listened, his gaze dropping to the floor, jaw tight, smoke drifting from the cigarette in his fingers, but it didn’t bring him calm. Not with everything Rory had just laid at his feet. His mind was already spinning. But something made him stop.

Rory’s voice was still echoing in his head. “I trusted you, Mr. Shelby.” That had cut deeper than anything else. He ground the cigarette into the ashtray, exhaling slow and sharp through his nose. 

“I thought she left because she wanted to.” Tommy said it low. Almost ashamed.

Rory looked up, but didn’t interrupt.

“I thought she looked at what I was, and what I did, and she chose something else.” And that, maybe, was the worst of it. Tommy had told himself it was better that way. But none of it had been true. It hadn’t made the nights quieter or the house feel less empty.

He raised his gaze to Rory’s now, steady and unflinching. “But you’re right. I didn’t protect her.”

He stepped out from behind the desk, slowly. Not pacing, just unable to stay still. "I let my pride stand in the way of telling her the truth. I made it all seem like some great strategy.” He scoffed, bitter. “Thought I could fix it later, when the timing was right.” 

And still… in the thick of it, as his mind reeled with plans and next moves, one thought rose above the rest. Not strategy or power. He’d been so caught up in what he had to do, what it might take, how it changed everything that he hadn’t stopped to consider the only thing that really mattered.

He swallowed hard, mouth dry. “Does she want it?”

The tension in Rory's shoulders shifted. Not gone, but different now. Sharper around the edges. He watched Tommy carefully.

“I asked her that,” Rory said after a long pause. “She does.”

Tommy’s throat worked around a breath he didn’t release.

“Still does.” Rory added. “Doesn’t matter what anyone says. Said that baby’s hers.”

There was something fierce in the way he said it. Protective. 

Tommy felt something in his chest loosen, just slightly. It wasn't relief. But it made it easier to breathe. Even if he didn’t deserve it. 

“You know I took back my father’s house,” Rory clarified. “I told her I’d fix it up. Move her and Mum back in. Said I’d make it right.” His voice cracked a little. “Because someone had to.” He paused. Tension rippling through his frame. “But even as I said it, I knew--” He shook his head once, bitter. “I knew you’d never let that happen. And I've pledged my damn life to you.”

The truth of those words hit Tommy hard. Rory was right. He wouldn’t have. Not because he didn’t trust Rory. No. The thought of her--his girl--tucked away on Gray Street, raising his child without him?

It gutted him. Tommy exhaled through his nose. Calm. But the fury underneath was anything but. He was going to end this and now he had the agency to do so.

“This isn’t about the child.” Tommy paused, because the words weren’t easy. Not when they mattered. “I want her.” The ache in his chest flared. “Not because of what she’s carrying. Not because of what I did.” His voice softened. “Because she’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever had. And I ruined it before I even had the chance to tell her that out loud.”

He finally stopped, standing in front of Rory now. Not above him. Just present and honest.

“So I'm going to make it right... For her and our child."

The room felt a little lighter.

“And if you’re going to be my brother-in-law, Rory…” Tommy’s eyes met his, level and real. "You need to know I’m not asking.” That steel edge returned, tempered by everything else he'd just confessed. “I’m taking her back. Not because I own her.” He took a breath. “Because I should’ve fought for her the first time. And I won’t make that mistake twice.”

The silence that followed was full of everything unsaid between them.

“So tell me when the wedding is.”

Rory didn’t speak, just stared at Tommy like he wasn’t sure what he was looking at anymore. And Tommy stood still, hands loose at his sides. He didn’t move, didn’t break the silence, didn’t try to fill the space with more words. 

Rory’s gaze flicked down briefly. Then back up. Still guarded, still calculating, like he was measuring the man in front of him against everything he’d seen over the last three months.

Tommy didn’t blame him. He wanted to be judged for it. He watched as the lad’s shoulders dropped a fraction, something uncoiling. Not forgiveness. But maybe something close to understanding.

“Next Saturday. Midday.” Rory's voice was quiet, but clear.

Tommy gave a single nod, slow and deliberate.

Rory looked away for a second. “She doesn’t think you’d want her back.”

Tommy had really fucked this up. “Then she doesn’t know me at all," Tommy said.

Then Rory stepped forward, meeting his eyes one last time. “Then fix it," he said with venom in his voice. 

Rory walked out, leaving the door open behind him like he owned the bloody place. He kept walking, right out of the betting shop.

Tommy followed a few steps, stopping just inside the threshold. Outside in the main room sat Arthur and John, mid-hand in a card game they clearly weren’t paying attention to anymore. Both of them were staring at the office door like they’d expected gunfire. John’s cigarette hung forgotten between his fingers, the ash long.

Arthur just grinned. “Well, that were a proper bollocking,” he said around a mouthful of toothpick. “Thought I was gonna have to go in and save you meself.”

Tommy didn’t answer. Just leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed, leveling a look at both of them. 

John gave him a small shrug, trying not to smirk. “Kid’s got balls, I’ll give him that.”

Arthur snorted. “Kid’s got a death wish, more like.” Then he added, shite-eating grin on his face. "Well, you did something right, Tom. I hear congratulations are in order. There'll be a weddin' then?”

Tommy’s jaw ticked. He pushed off the frame, turning back into his office with a mutter. “Fuck off, the lot of you.”

Arthur raised his glass in salute. “There’s the Tommy I know.”

The door shut behind him, and this time, he locked it. Not because he needed privacy. Because he needed to breathe.

Tommy crossed to the sideboard, poured himself a glass of whiskey with a hand that was far steadier than it should’ve been. Then he downed another. Everything he’d just heard replayed in his head on a loop.

She’s pregnant. 

He downed the second drink in one swallow. The glass hit the table harder than he meant it to. This wasn’t just about fixing things anymore. It wasn’t even just about her.

It was about them. 

Not just the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about. Not just the past he’d twisted into something unforgivable. Not even his child.

It was them. And now he knew. She wanted the baby. Their baby. In the middle of everything she’d endured, she still wanted it. Wanted to hold onto the one thing left that came from him.

And it wrecked him. 

Tommy Shelby knew how to win, knew how to fight. He knew exactly how to crush a man for blinking wrong in his direction.

But he didn’t know how to deserve that kind of hope. His chest ached, low and steady, like a wound he’d stitched over too fast and now it was tearing open. He stared down at the surface of his desk, and for the first time in a long time… he didn’t see the next move clearly.

All he saw was her. Thin, tired and carrying a future that should’ve never been hers to carry alone.

And he wanted it--God help him, he wanted everything. Not just to fix what he broke and to try and win her back. He wanted her in his house, in his arms. He wanted to wake up to her, to the sound of their child crying or playing in the next room. He’d never let himself picture it until now.

But now? Now it was the only bloody thing he could see.

He’d send a couple of men to Ipswich ahead of time. Not Rory. Rory stayed with him. As angry as he was, Tommy couldn't risk it. Quiet ones with orders to watch the house, the church, the so-called groom. They would do a little investigating. There would be no mistakes or delays.

Tommy was going to be there himself. She was going to see him. And this time, after he crashed this sham of a wedding, he was going to tell her everything. Everything he should have said the first night he took her in. Everything she still deserved to hear. Just the truth.

He was going to win her back. Whatever it took.

@outlanderuniverseoutlanderuniverse @alyssajunellealyssajunelle @gothic-chinadoll @sparda1234 @mrsnms @alexakeyloveloki @theinheriteddutchess @wiseyouthingluencer @lovinglimerence

[chimivx]

‘after all the boys and girls that we’ve been through, could you give it all up if i promise to you, that i’ll never talk again, and i’ll never love again’

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➳ college!teez x fem!reader (oc) - nice for what cast ➳ 7.6k (part three of ???) ➳ 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, angst, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW! *pay attention to time stamps <3 *

monday ~ september 15th ~ 6:37 pm

ITZ hadn’t been this busy in years. In your four years of experiencing this day, these tours, this month, you’d never seen the foyer so crowded, full of excitement, happy, smiling girls with the brightest eyes. Standing on the bottom stair to get a couple more inches on you to look out above everyone, you folded your hands over your middle and pressed your lips into the smallest smile.

Tori, in her flared jeans that hugged her hips just right, and her ITZ recruitment shirt, she beamed at the recruits, the absolute babies walking by her, yapping it up with the ones who lingered by her side. Bracelets jingled on her wrist whenever she twisted her arms around to show off her tattoos to the recruits who asked about them. Some sororities didn’t allow tattoos, or piercings, except yours. Tori’s been loud and proud about them since day one, and for the new girls she intended to keep it that way.

Chaewon kept close to her, her chestnut hair swishing over her shoulders as she directed girls around the house with a point of her finger or a wave of her hand. Since she’d been appointed Tori’s former position she’d become somewhat of a shadow of your best friend. Keeping her chin held high, her shoulders on straight, when she wasn’t answering questions or giving directions she was peeking over at Tori, for only a second, either to make sure she’d been doing enough, or to monitor how to act.

In a fit of giggles, Yuna and her group of five she’d been wandering around the first floor with, they rounded the staircase and greeted you with smiles and tiny waves, some afraid to look up at you. Their nervousness made you smile. Giving them space to move upstairs, you greeted each of them individually, extending a hand to shake, one they took tentatively. 

Visions of Yeji flashed through your mind as the night progressed, how effortlessly she’d danced over the floor on this very night, how she captured the energy and made it her own, took the attention for herself. She’d allowed the girls to wander by themselves, letting Mina handle some walk throughs, but ultimately, she’d treated this night as some sort of publicity stunt for herself. She micromanaged. This had been but one night in her plot to turn ITZ into Yeji-TZ.

Standing on the stairs, overlooking them all, the variety, the passion, the drive to do something for themselves… You couldn’t imagine what it felt like to want to take that away. If anything it blew open a wound within you. A fear. 

You were their president. Soon they’d look to you for direction, some already doing so. 

You were in charge.

Sakura and Eunchae brushed by you, snapping you out of your thoughts. Two girls who were recruited last year, the pair you met sitting on the counter at the ATZ party you sneaked out of the house for. These were two girls Yeji could’ve burnt out, and she wanted to. Written on her face, you could see it. Sakura and Eunchae, they walked into the house and she shifted into defense mode, profiling them before she had the chance to speak to them.

Luckily you got to Tori and Yuna before decisions were made, and the freshmen, now sophomore pair were safe. In fact, they were the most active two of the recruits from last year, and tonight proved that further. Saying hello to you, landing playful fists on your shoulder, they trekked up the stairs with a few new girls behind them, touring groups without being told it was something they needed to do.

The sight of it all, from Tori, to Chaewon, to Yunjin at the door greeting girls who’s profiles you’ve sifted through thoroughly, it warmed your heart as much as it weighed down on you.

It worsened the cloud hanging over your head, the dread looming over your shoulders, the darkness that could take you any second.

The voicemail in your phone.

You’d deleted it after you called your father, forcing Keeho awake into a three way call, telling them both at once what had happened between hurried breaths and a pounding heart. Unable to focus in class, the roars of your angry father lingering in every thought, you could still hear them now. Him absolutely freaking out worried you more than the voicemail that you called him before you even stepped out of the classroom at dismissal, to make sure he was still on his feet.

 Keeho left you with messages full of plots and plans that made you smile, but not enough to relieve the urgent panic of ‘how the fuck did she get my phone number?’

You’ve never spoken one word to the woman.

You’ve never once seen her face.

The stories kids tell, ones from movies and television shows, of dreaming of their mother, yearning for her or someone of the sort- the thoughts never crossed your mind.

Maybe once, when you were young, too young to understand how mothers and fathers and birthing children worked, but other than that, nothing. Yeonjun had been honest, you think, about their love story, of how you came to be, how he acquired you and what it’d done to him, and for you it had been enough. You had your dad, what more could you need?

It’d been an uncanny sort of way of thinking. For a few years in high school you and Keeho would joke that Yeonjun made you himself, you came from him and only him, and you were content believing that.

You couldn’t pick apart these feelings, nor the reason why they felt so heavy. It shouldn’t bother you. The messages could be deleted, numbers could be blocked, and you’d move on. You supposed what it’s done to your father could be the reason why, but even then, he could delete the messages, block the number, and move on.

A tiny thought lingered just beneath the surface. One you weren’t ready to open up or even consider. It worsened the anxiety induced nausea.

What if he wants her back?

As much as he said he wouldn’t entertain it, there were a lot of things he said he wouldn’t do that he ended up doing anyway.

Taking a deep breath, scanning over the floor once more, you meet Tori’s eyes. She gave you a soft smile, and before you knew it she was grabbing your hand, pulling you out onto the front porch. Planting you in a white wicker chair, she relaxed into the one beside you and let out a sigh, crossing one of her legs over the other. 

Sitting on the edge of the seat, your nails picking at each other, she reached over and nudged your shoulder, easing you backward.

“Take it easy,” she said softly, watching you rest against the cushion on the back of the chair. Sliding her hands over her thighs, the dark denim she wore, she breathed in the fresh September air that seemed to clear up from this morning. “It’s going really well in there,” she nodded, “Better than I imagined, honestly.”

Clenching your jaw, you focused out on the lawn, the plush green of the grass, the leaves of the trees lining the street bustling in the light breeze that melted over your skin. The quiet of the street, the noise that echoed over from the heart of the city, the life in Delo that never ceased. Voices that carried from a few blocks down at ATZ where the boys hosted their own tours for their new brothers joining the fraternity. 

Yunho was down there. Probably standing tall in a nice shirt with his hair all tidy wearing that charismatic smile that would guarantee all the new recruits would stay, rambling on and on about all the good ATZ had brought him, all the success he’d acquired. 

He wouldn’t include your name. He didn’t have to. You didn’t want him to.

But you hope you’re in his head. A mere thought lingering behind it all, that if the two of you never joined these organizations you’d probably not be where you are now. Not speaking. But, then again, if you never went through recruitment, you aren’t sure if the two of you would’ve ever escalated past classmates freshman year.

Whatever people say about blessings and curses.

Tori broke the silence. “What are you thinking about?”

“Yunho,” you whispered without hesitancy.

She shifted in her seat, letting her head shake her brown layers about. “At this point, I don’t get it.”

Looking over at her, you asked, “What?”

She turned her head and softened her expression. “You want him,” she shrugged, “He wants you.” 

Averting your eyes to the porch, you kicked your feet about and murmured, “It’s more than that.”

Dipping her head backward, she groaned. “It’s always more than that with you two.”

Wooyoung’s words came back to bite. You smiled, and said, “Can’t have us without the drama, can we?”

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” she said. “You don’t need to keep having these tragic things happen, you can have peace.”

Pressing your lips together, you laughed to yourself and shot her a look. “The entire time we were hooking up, all summer, up until he told me he loved me,” you narrowed your eyes and she sighed, “He was hooking up with her.” Tori lowered her gaze, letting you speak. “I want him, I wanna be with him, but how can I trust him? I know I’m not innocent, I said it to my dad, there are some things I’ve done too, the reasons he’s not speaking to me and maybe more, but…”

“I get it,” she whispered.

Throat tightening, fists clenching, you whispered, “I love him. And as much as I think not talking to him hurts worse than what he did…”

“Then, talk to him,” she said, and you smirked.

Giving her a look, you both shared the same thought at once, but you spoke it alive. “I’m scared he won’t talk to me if I do.”

She sucked in a breath. “So, then you’re stuck living in this in between. This limbo.”

“Doesn’t hurt as much as the thought of him turning me down.”

Tori reacted physically, her chin turning, her eyes squeezing shut. “Damn.” Quiet fell for a moment, until she turned to you and asked, “You really think he would?”

“I don’t know,” you said, tone flat, face expressionless.

She leaned forward to catch your eyes. She wore worry in hers. “Are you okay?”

Her words processed in your brain, and you gulped. Fixing yourself, sitting up straight, rolling your shoulders back, lifting your brows, livening your lips, you nodded.

She made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “Yeah, okay. He’s got you fucked up.” She didn’t know anything. Your phone burned a hole in the back pocket of your jeans.

“My mom called me, Tor.”

“I just think…” She’d begun to pop off, but reeled herself in. From her hands shooting out at her sides, to the way they took sanctuary on her chest as she lurched forward in her seat, her eyes bore into yours. “What?”

Her reaction had been much like Keeho’s. Disbelief, utter shock, disgust.

“Yeah,” you shrugged again, “And she’s been calling my dad since, like, July.”

Her parted lips widened. “Aurora, I don’t… What?”

It wasn’t easy to render her speechless, but this got her.

From behind her the front door opened. Kazuha stepped outside onto the porch with a curious Yuna behind her. Once your friend spotted where you sat, she broke out in one of her infamous flashy grins.

“Hi cuties,” she sang, then nodded toward Kaz, “Ror, Miss Nakamura’s been looking for you.” 

“Thanks, Yuna!” Tori beamed, leaping to her feet. The senior’s chocolate brown curls disappeared behind the door. Giving you a glance, Tori said, “I’ll let you guys talk,” she smiled toward Kaz, then gently touched your shoulder, “We’re finishing this later.” 

Sending her off with a nod, you watched as she waltzed effortlessly around the freshman with the sweetest greeting, and whisked herself away inside the house. 

Taking careful steps toward you, dressed in ripped baggy jeans and a cropped black tee hanging off her shoulder, Kazuha held up her hand to wave.

“Come, sit,” you said, nodding toward the chair Tori had been in. “How are you?”

With a breath and a smile she hurried to take the space beside you, and said, “I’m good, how are you? I’m sorry about this morning.” 

Laughing, you waved the matter off. “Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.” Setting your chin in your hand and your elbow on the arm of the chair, you took her in and put on your best presidential face. “Where were you headed?”

Kaz sat backward, stretching her legs in front of her. Her wispy black hair danced over her cheeks in the breeze. “The library,” she popped her brows, “I’ve been rushing to get my stuff together, like my books and stuff like that. I still don’t have them all.”

Knitting your brows together, you asked, “Did you get the rest of them today?”

Kaz cringed. “No?” Thinking to herself, her gaze traveled out to the lawn. “It was hard for me to find things, that library is huge.”

Sharing a knowing laugh, you cocked your head and sat backward like her. “It really is, it took me a while my first year too. One of my classes, I didn’t have a textbook for two weeks.”

Kaz grinned. “What’d you do, then?”

Warmth spread over your chest, filling in some of the cracks your conversation with Tori left behind. “I shared with a friend. We did our homework together at Blend, you been there yet?” She shook her head and you clicked your tongue. “We’ll get you there soon. He and I… We’d spend hours there. And then, one day I came to class and his textbook was waiting for me at my chair.”

Kaz asked, “What’d he do about his?”

Shaking your head, you said, “He bought one for himself.” She smiled and bobbed her head. “I got to keep the one with our scribbles in it. I swear half the time we weren’t even doing homework.”

Sliding her feet under where she sat, she lowered her chin. “Sounds like more than a friend, Aurora.”

Squinting at her, you whispered, “You have no idea.”

She giggled. “Did you guys date or something? Who is this friend?”

With a hard swallow, you half rolled your eyes. “Yunho, he’s in ATZ.”

She sat forward and narrowed her eyes. “The history major?”

A pit formed in your stomach, forcing you to whisper, “Yeah. Why?”

“I didn’t take him as your type,” she said. “That’s all.”

“How do you know him?”

Kaz smiled, and you studied it. Maintaining your composure, you analyzed hers. She smiled, and spoke, and moved in a way that attempted to impress you.

She said, “I made a friend in ATZ, we have a class together, I’ve been getting to know him. Jongseob? You know him?” You grit your teeth together and she noticed, letting out a laugh. “Of course you know him, that was stupid of me, you’re the president, I just mean… He’s… Yeah! He’s how I got more info on joining here and stuff, he said it’s a really great experience.”

Keeping your rage under wraps, you made yourself smile. “I’ll have to thank him for sending you our way.”

You hoped to never speak two words to the spawn of Satan ever again. His adversary, however, he you still longed for, but whenever you got too close, Jongseob snatched him away. You’ve had a few short text conversations with Soul, but they never amounted to much. Twenty year old apologies that didn’t surface in person, only lived within the thread between you and him on your phone. No matter how much you proclaimed your worry for him, he found a way around it.

Even Wooyoung has tried. Texting him, calling him, trying to catch up to him around campus these past few weeks… Nothing.

Not even Seonghwa could get a grip on the sophomore.

Kazuha blushed, and your curiosity piqued.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on him, Kaz,” you tried to joke.

She laughed and shook her head, glancing down to her lap. “No, no, not Jongseob. I actually, uh, I met them this summer. My sister and I went on vacation with a group of friends from back home, and we met them in a bar. Major coincidence they went to school here and I’d be heading here just after we got home-”

“Them?” you questioned, raising a brow. 

She blushed again, the girl incapable of hiding emotion. “Jongseob and his friends.” 

“His friends,” you said without realizing how snarky it came out. You were leaning forward over your legs now, your elbows living on your knees.

“You know them, I think, right?” Kaz asked.

“I know them.”

“Intak, Jiung,” her voice softened, you aren’t even sure if she noticed, “Soul.”

“You like him,” you breathed, leaning closer to her.

A smile broke onto her cheeks, a cheesy one, and her shoulders lifted to her ears. “I don’t know, we… We had fun this summer, and I guess I… I guess I do.” She lifted her gaze to meet yours. You wiped away any emotion you wore and tried to smile. 

She wasn’t horrible, Kaz. An eighteen year old, age appropriate, style sharing freshman. Their personalities were similar enough, both of them chill, but for some reason none of it sat right within you. Behind his need to rebel, his need to follow his friends along in what he thinks is right or cool, Soul was pure. He’d be innocent if he never got caught up with Jongseob, Intak, or Jiung. If the right people had gotten ahold of him sooner, his life would be much different.

If Kaz was the girl for him, you’d need to get to know her better, and not just through conversation. This was one you had to watch.

“Does he like you back?” you asked, and she pouted her lips in thought.

“I’m not sure,” she said, then pushed her hair from her face, “It’s still early, I think I plan to get closer to him, and then I’ll find out.” Her eyes drew sideways, looking at you through her peripheral. “Is it true?”

Nerves shot through you. “Is what true?”

Kaz turned her chin to flash you a smirk. Taking in your body language, you caught her right as she finished and changed how you were sitting, but you weren’t quick enough. “It is.”

Crossing your legs, you shook your head. “Kaz, what?”

“You guys used to fuck,” her sudden language made me stifle a laugh, “You don’t have to pretend you didn’t, they all still talk about it.”

Rolling your head backwards, you groaned. “Of course they do,” another laugh came out of you, “Kaz, it’s not what you think, that was a… weird time. For a lot of us.”

She rested her lips in a gentle smile, her head hanging to the side. “So, what they say, it’s true?”

Through another groan mixed with a sigh, you said, “I don’t know what they say, and I don’t think I want to, but probably. I’ve hooked up with Soul, and me and… I guess, boyfriend, you could call him at the time, we… did it together.”

Kaz blew a laugh through her lips. “I’m not a kid, Aurora, you can say threesome.”

A chill shot down your spine. Her smile vanished.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said quickly within a whisper. 

“It’s fine,” you nodded, “Those days’ll be rewritten eventually.” Relaxing back, letting your legs uncross, you grabbed the arms of the chair and sighed. Kaz watched you, waited for you to speak. “Nakamura Kazuha,” you said and she straightened out. Turning your head, you smiled at her. “Majoring in graphic design, minoring in business, you want to join ITZ to…”

Catching on to how you trailed off, she cleared her throat and finished your sentence. “Change.” Her answer filled you with intrigue. Tilting her head around, she continued, “Myself, my life, my past, my future… My family’s reputation.” You both looked at each other with some sort of know. “Not to trauma dump…”

Holding out a hand with a sly smile, acknowledging all that's been shared between you thus far, you whispered, “Please.”

Kaz gave you a soft laugh. She shoved her hands between her thighs and popped her shoulders. “I”m the first one to go to college,” she said, a hint of pride glistening out of her, “My mom didn’t go, my dad didn’t go. My sister wants to go, but she doesn’t think she’ll get the grades. I got here on my own. I worked really hard through school, I kept my grades up, I had two jobs- One on the weekend and the other after school four days a week… I did this myself. For myself.”

Giving you a look, you smiled at her, encouraged her to keep going.

“My parents were never married,” her voice lowered immensely, “They lived together, they coexisted, but they never got married. I was two when my mom got pregnant with my little sister, and if you can take a guess,” she shot you a wink, “We have different dads.”

You pressed your lips together. “Doesn’t make her any less your sister.”

Kaz’s smile perked up. “It doesn’t, she’s my best friend. I keep trying to get her to stay on track with school, with her job, but she’s too much our mother, yanno?”

With a roll of your eyes, you breathed out a laugh. Resting your chin back in your hand, you blinked toward her. “I’m too much my father.”

“Me too,” she said, her spirits lifting at the sound of your words. “I don’t wanna blame it on the fact that her dad is awol, but our mom and my dad is all she knows, and even then my dad has some sort of animosity towards her. He swears he doesn’t, they fight about it all the time, but it’s obvious he does. That happens when your wife’s a cheater, I guess, right?” 

Nodding along as she spoke, understanding her story all too well, you affirmed her words and gave her insight of your own. “I never knew my mom,” you said, and she settled back in her chair. “She,” pausing, you huffed, surprising yourself with how this story was about to come out to a partial stranger, “She dropped me off at my dads when I was two months old. We haven't seen her since. It’s been me and Junie since the start, downtown Tamoe is home.” You took a deep breath, glancing down at the porch. “Was home.”

“We live down in Contramano,” Kaz muttered, and you nearly broke your neck to look at her. She met your eyes and laughed. “Yeah, I know.”

“What in the hell is that like?” You didn’t mean to highlight the awfulness of the town, but you couldn’t help it.

That place took too much from you.

“Kinda nice if you… close your eyes,” she said, and you shared a laugh. “Not many people get out of ‘Mano, yanno? I think that’s why I’m so hard on myself and my sister. I don’t want us to be stuck there.”

Lips melting into a smile, you held out a hand for her to take, which she did tentatively. Giving her palm a squeeze, you whispered, “My dad did.” She shared in your smile, glancing between you and how you held her hand. “It’s possible. You can do it, you did do it, you’re here. I’m sure your sister can do it too.” A shaky breath ripped through her, the topic clearly a hard one for her. “You’re gonna be at this dinner on Saturday, Kaz. You’re a guaranteed in.”

tuesday ~ september 16th ~ 11:10 am

[choi asshole #1]: What do you mean it shows up as a new number?????

[you]: i don’t know, if i knew i’d be able to keep her blocked. she called again and it’s a new number

[choi asshole #1]: Fuckin hell. She left a message???

[you]: yessir.

[choi asshole #1]: Send it to me. Let me hear it. Did you listen to it?

[you]: * 1 Attachment *

[you]: i don’t wanna listen to this. any of it. any of her. you can.

You didn’t listen to it, but you did read it.

‘Hi, Aurora, it’s Seori, again. I know what you both are probably thinking, I know what you both are probably saying, and I do not blame either one of you. I couldn’t get much out in the message I left you yesterday, I was hoping you would pick up this time, but then it wouldn’t go through, and I guess you, uh, you blocked me, which I’m not surprised by. Your father hasn’t blocked me yet, I figured he’d be the first one to do it! You don’t know me, I thought we’d be able to get to know one another, after all this time, I want to know you. And I know, god, I know how it all sounds, how it all seems, but Aurora, you’re my girl, you changed my life, you taught me so much, I just want to see you, want to talk to you, even if only for a minute. You can call me back at this number. I’ll answer. If I don’t, it’s my partner Johnny. Just say it’s you, he’ll give me the phone. Aurora, I know it’s been too long. Trust me. I know.’

Clutching your phone in your hand, letting your father assess the damage, you stepped up to the front door of Blend and pulled it open. Theo slaved away behind the counter with an effortless precision, charming his guests, his regulars who didn’t even need to speak their orders into existence. It’s only the third week of school and he’s gotten the schedule of his people memorized. A master of his craft. 

The line extended toward the back of the shop, students like you looking for their next caffeine fix before trudging away to another class or a dorm room for hours of studies. Adjusting your bag on your shoulder you smiled at a few faces that glanced your way. Eyes lingered, and mouths whispered to their friends beside them. 

You wore your title on your forehead.

Your many titles.

It depended on who it was that determined what they read. What they saw.

This started last semester, the spring of junior year after Yeji’s cancelled era. In true social media fashion, the views were split. Some hated you, some applauded you. Yeji and her family tried to run stories to ruin Nasara, to ruin the sorority, to ruin you and your friends, but with great success your friends and their families, with their own ties, they’d been able to protect you all. Seonghwa’s uncle stepped up, the city listened. The students, your peers, remained split.

[choi asshole #1]: I didn’t block her so she wouldn’t go to you!!! You understand that right??? Shes crazy!

[you]: don’t start with the women are crazy agenda

Bubbles appeared, then disappeared, then they appeared again.

[choi asshole #1]: Aurora you know what i mean i don’t mean that 

You breathed out a laugh.

[you]: chill junie, i know. i’m not answering her and i’m blocking this number too. whether it’s her ‘partners’ or not. who even says that still.

[choi asshole #1]: Johnny. Some partner.

[you]: you know him???

[choi asshole #1]: I met him briefly. He’s alright.

Scrunching your brows, your smile deepend.

[you]: feeling jealous???

[choi asshole #1]: Fuck no. Don’t ever say that again.

[you]: take your meds <3

[choi asshole #1]: Done >3

[choi asshole #1]: Fuck

[choi asshole #1]: <3

Theo, behind the counter with his newest barista partner, one you knew you’d approach without a greeting, but would receive one, they worked quickly. You didn’t stand in the back of Blend for too long, your fathers texts keeping you occupied in the time it took for them to whip out a dozen coffees, lattes, and teas. The tables filled with some of the students in front of you, their books littering the tops, their bags living on chairs or the booths beside them. Glancing about, finding some sort of comfort in it, you stepped up to the counter and met Theo’s sideways smile with a wink.

“‘Sup sugar.” 

Your sarcastic flirt made him laugh. Behind him, wiping down counters and blenders, Soul peeked over his shoulder. Giving him a smile, he stopped what he was doing. Theo followed your eyes with a heavy exhale. He and his step brother exchanged a glance.

“She wasn’t talking to me,” he said to Theo who nodded toward you. Soul took in a gulp of air and waved his hand. “Hey, Aurora.” Without a word back to him, he snatched his rag off the counter and hurried through the double swinging doors to the kitchen in the back of the shop.

Theo turned back to you, a snicker on his lips. “That’ll never get old.”

“He’s got a little girlfriend yanno,” you said, wiggling your brows.

“One that isn’t you?”

You gave his laugh a glare. “Let it go.”

He slapped his hands on the counter between you and shook his head, his smile still bright. “Eventually,” he rolled his eyes, “Changing it up on me today, or what?”

Squinting to look behind him at the handwritten menu in light blue chalk marker, you smushed your lips together and hummed. “Probably.”

Theo waited patiently. “Kee and I are going to that farm in Sicuro this weekend, they’ve got apple trees and stuff, we wanna go pick some,” he leaned over the counter and picked at his nails, “Do you wanna come with?” Looking up at you from the marble, his big eyes almost got you.

“I have the dinner this Saturday,” you said, and he twisted his lips in disappointment. “Recruitment shit, you know how it goes.”

“I do,” he sighed, then stood up straight. “Fine, we’ll go by ourselves.”

A smirk danced at the corners of your lips. “How’d you convince Keeho to go to a farm, Tae?”

He poked the tip of his tongue out and narrowed his eyes. “You really wanna know?”

“Not anymore,” you giggled, leaning forward, then you whispered, “Tell me later.”

He grinned, flashing you dazzling teeth. “What do you want, Choi? You have class in an hour, I can do whatever you want.”

The last of your management classes, you couldn’t believe it. This entire year would be full of them, the last tier, the highest level of class you worked three long years to get to.

“Coffee,” you said. “Black.”

He looked at you like you insulted his grandmother.

Laughing, you shot him a, “What!”

“No, you know what,” he said, fluttering his eyes shut, his long lashes splaying over his cheekbones. Holding up a hand, he said, “You’re going through something, I won’t say nothing. Coffee, black, coming right up.”

“I got another call today,” you said, leaning against the counter, watching him hurry away to make your fix. Eyes going wild, he groaned aloud. “I know, it’s ridiculous. I don’t know what she thinks is going to come of any of this.”

Pouring the, you noticed, espresso into an adorable cup with Blend written across the side, Theo said, “This is all Keeho can talk about by the way.” Your laugh tore through the angst sitting on your chest. “I know. He’s putting it all on me ‘cause he doesn’t wanna drive you crazy.” Slapping a lid on the cup, he hurried in front of you and handed it over.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

He shrugged. “I’d rather get the crazy. You don’t need it right now.”

Pressing the spout to your lips, letting the steam waft over your cheeks, you pouted. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” he nodded once, “Just know that he’s got your back. Even if he won’t speak on it much. The move and everything, it… It’s all been hard on him. He loves you.”

A lump lodged in your throat. “Damn, Tae, gonna make me cry on a Tuesday morning.”

Batting his lashes with utmost sarcasm, he whispered, “You’re welcome.”

Taking a sip of your coffee, you watched his eyes and how they looked at you with a purpose, then darted to the booth behind you to your left. He looked at you once more, smiled, then moved on to another guest who had walked in just moments ago. Stepping aside from the counter, you turned around slowly, your gaze flickering everywhere like it had when you walked in.

You sipped from the steaming cup once more and let your eyes move over to the booth Theo pointed out. The coffee almost shot out between your lips.

Head hanging over a book with both of his hands knitted in his dusty brown hair, Yunho focused on the pages. His glasses nearly slid off his nose with how downturned his head hung. Moving to flip the page, he pushed them up with his knuckles and sighed. He leaned backward against the booth and swiped both of his hands over his face, rubbing at his eyelids vigorously. 

Tired again.

With how far into the book he’d read you can only assume he’s been losing sleep to finish it, and already knew that not a soul in ATZ would hold him accountable for his sleep habits. Yunho established very early on that he moved how he wanted, did what he wanted, and no matter what anyone said, or told him, he’d do what Yunho wanted to do. Even if it meant exhausting himself for the sake of good literature. 

Licking his lips, he sat with his eyes closed for a few seconds.

When he popped them open your heart sank to your knees.

He looked at you.

And he definitely wasn’t expecting you to be already looking at him.

Flustered, he snapped his head to look down at his book, but then after half a second his eyes flickered back up, but not for long.

He knew you walked in, he’d scoped you out the second you walked in the door.

And here he sat, afraid to look at you.

Sending a soft thank you to Theo over your shoulder, you started for the door. Yunho’s head hung back over his book, but his eyes kept track of your every move. You could feel it. You took careful steps, slow steps, sipping your coffee as you strolled by his table, making sure your eyes were glued to him, just in case he happened to make eye contact again.

You wanted to sit down. Slide across from him, grab his book, flip through a few pages, nudge his knees with your own. 

With how he caged himself within his arms, that wasn’t a table you belonged at anymore.

wednesday ~ september 17th ~ 4:55 pm

“I don’t think he fucking loved me at all!”

Groans sounded from the floor and the sofa.

“Don’t do that to yourself…” Wooyoung.

“Aura, stop!” Keeho.

“He looked like he did yesterday.” Theo.

Pacing in front of them, a beer can half crushed in your hand, in the dim light of Wooyoung's apartment, you’d been monologuing for fifteen minutes, dishing out to them the events of the last three days. Your mothers calls, Tori’s updates of the dinner, how the girls in the house have been asking you questions you didn’t know the answer to, and now, Yunho.

Wooyoung’s last class ended at three thirty. When he stepped off the elevator and rounded the corner of his floor, the three of you were waiting by his door with devious smiling faces that he greeted with a snicker. Within the hour food had been ordered and devoured, music had been turned on, beers had been slammed, and voicemails had been listened to.

Keeho, on the couch, with his third beer in his hands, shook his head around like mad. “First of all, this is insane to hear considering, like, four days ago y’all were together.” 

Jumping on your two feet, you pointed at him and laughed. “We haven’t been together since July.”

Your best friend almost leapt off the ouch, but Theo held him back by the collar of his shirt.

“And you said nothing!” he shouted, falling back into his boyfriend's lap. 

Gulping the beer you held, you waved a hand. “I didn’t talk to anyone this summer.”

Wooyoung, from the floor, mid bite into his pizza, raised a finger. “I can vouch for her, she didn’t.”

Keeho rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He shared a look with Theo, settling into his arms. “I can’t believe we’re back on this Yunho bullshit.” 

“Me either,” you scoffed, slapping your hand against your thigh. Knocking back the rest of the beer in your hand, you sat the can on the table Wooyoung sat on the floor in front of and went back to pacing across his hardwood floor. “He sees me, pretends not to, doesn’t say anything, which I know!” Whipping yourself around to their open mouths with an argument ready, you swatted the air toward each of them. “Don’t start.”

Keeho giggled, nudging against Theo. “I know what you could dooo!”

Hardening your glare, you shot it toward him. “I said, don’t start.”

“Look, Ror,” Theo sighed, sitting himself up as best as he could with a tipsy Keeho latched to his side, “I saw him yesterday, I spoke to him yesterday. Not only is he also going through something, but the entire time we spoke,” he paused for an emphasis you did not need, “He couldn’t not look at you.”

“And didn’t you say that Tori said he was a mess at the party,” Wooyoung said mid chew, leaning against the couch. Standing before them, all their gazes locked upon you, you felt as though you stood before a council. “Crying about you and shit? That doesn’t sound like he doesn’t love you, Ro.” Keeho bobbed his head, his glassy eyes focusing down on the top of Wooyoung's head. “It sounds like he does.”

“All this time passed,” Theo said. “And he’s still down bad crying at the gym over you.”

Keeho eyed him. “You are so gay.”

Theo nearly broke his neck with how fast he looked at his boyfriend. “Say that to me again next time I’m pushing you headfirst-”

“Okay!” Your shout brought them back, both Wooyoung and Theo laughing at how Keeho’s face went pink.

Wooyoung gestured toward Theo. “Did you try that little trick I told you about?”

Theo nodded, smiled, and went to speak, but Keeho cut him off before he could start.

Lunging forward, eyes shooting open wide, he gaped at Wooyoung. “That came from you!?”

Pride wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what Wooyoung wore on his face. Holding up his hands in defense, he bit his bottom lip and feigned innocence. The way Keeho looked at you turned your stomach.

“Not surprised you didn’t talk to anyone all summer,” he said, and the boys fell into fits of laughter.

Standing equally on your feet, you folded your arms over the hoodie you wore and looked at him in a way only he’d be able to decipher. He sat up and set his beer down. Sliding away from Theo on the couch, he opened up his arms and you tiptoed toward him, falling into his hold, his lap. 

Wooyoung smiled. Theo relaxed the other way and sipped his beer. 

Keeho slid his hand over your arm, taking the other around your waist to hold you close to him. He took a deep breath, and in how you rose and fell with his chest he somehow telepathically let you know that you were going to be okay. That it all sucked, he knew that, but in time things tend to work out. They have in the past, and they will again.

“What in the twin brain is going on over there?” Theo asked after a few minutes of revelling in the quiet thump of the music. 

Wooyoung looked up from his phone that he scrolled through and tapped his knee. “You’ll never know,” he said quietly, “Don’t even try to understand it. They speak a different language.”

“They aren’t even speaking!”

Wooyoung winked. “Exactly.”

“I am team Aurora talk to Yunho,” Theo said between sighs when no one seemed to move. 

Keeho nodded in agreement. “I am too.”

They both looked at Wooyoung who looked at you, then Keeho, then Theo. He held up both his hands again.

“I am team Aurora do what you’re comfortable with.”

Keeho pursed his lips. “Of course you are.”

Wooyoung flattened his brows and tipped his gorgeous nose down toward him. “Yanno, you and Tori are the same person.”

“That’s a compliment,” Keeho smized.

Wooyoung smiled. “Yes, it is.” He glanced down at you. “It makes sense.”

From beside your empty plate your phone buzzed. Not once, not twice, it kept going. Moving off of Keeho’s lap, his arms hesitant to let go of you, Wooyoung reached over for your phone first, glaring at the screen.

“Who is it?” 

Sitting down next to him, his face softened as he handed it over.

“Tori.”

“Hah!” Keeho cracked, crawling over the leather to curl back up in his boyfriend's lap. Theo’s fingers threaded through his hair as his face buried in his neck.

Answering the phone you clicked it on speaker.

“You’re in the room with Wooyoung, Kee, and Tae. Hi honey bunny,” you teased, gentle giggles leaving them all except Tori.

“I knew it,” she groaned. “Okay, well-“

“What’s wrong?” you asked, furrowing your brows, turning on the floor to face your friends. You laid your phone on Theo’s shin.

“It’s fine, I can ask Chaewon, she’s here.” Her exasperated tone brought back that dreaded cloud over your head. Wooyoung pressed his lips together and glanced away.

“Tori, what is it, I can-“

“Don’t worry about it. Enjoy the boys.”

She hung up.

Mouth wide open with more words to say, she silenced you with three beeps. 

Staring at the screen of call logs, you didn’t know what to do. 

“Come on,” Wooyoung said, voice hushed. Wiping his hands on a napkin he got on his feet and moved to slip into his shoes by his front door.

“Where are we going?” Standing, you followed him and did the same, put yourself in your shoes.

He almost rolled his eyes. “Taking you back to the house,” he said above a whisper, then turned to the boys on the couch, “Stay here, I’ll be back.”

Keeho sat up, blowing you a kiss.

“Bye, Ror!” Theo called out as Wooyoung had you half pushed out the door.

You haven’t been one to wish for silence as of late, but for the fifteen minute car ride you prayed for him to shut up. Unable to process a word, you sat utterly still with your hands shoved between your thighs. 

“You can always come over, but not when you have stuff to do,” Wooyoung went on and on, “Your responsibility is huge, I get that, and it’s a lot, but that’s why you have Tori and Yuna, even Seonghwa and Hongjoong…”

They would be waiting there with papers. This happened the first week. You had dinner at Wooyoung’s, Tori called you home to sign off on recruitment stuff.

Her, Chaewon, Yunjin, Yuna… They would all be in that room, standing around the desk, or sitting around it, talking, discussing, flipping through books, filing through sheets and packets of paper, and you were going to show up late.

It wasn’t an official meeting. You weren’t missing anything.

But, that’s not what mattered.

“Stop running away from it,” Wooyoung said as turned down the street where both houses resided. 

“I’m not running from it,” you spat, and he shook his head.

“Yes, you are, and for no good reason,” he mumbled. “Over a boy who- oh god,” he grumbled, and you wanted to be sick.

Passing by ATZ a few boys hung out around the porch that wrapped around the house entirely. Some shirtless, they were all sweaty, back from a run. Yunho included. He stood at the bottom of the stairs with a smile on his face, laughing at Jongho who ran his mouth, both of them wiping their foreheads with the tees they held in their hands. 

Fixating on the car, Jongho lifted a hand to point at it and wave. You could make out Wooyoung on his lips, the car incapable of incognito. Yunho shook his sweaty hair and looked out onto the street, meeting your eyes for the few seconds it took for you to drive by.

He didn’t smile.

Peering into the side view mirror once you got too far, you watched as he fisted up his t-shirt, threw it to the concrete, drug his hands through his wet hair, and vanished into the house.

“Yeah, this pissed him off,” Wooyoung muttered, watching through the rear view mirror. He gave you a look and popped his brows. “Still think he doesn’t love you?”

thursday ~ september 18th ~ 1:03 am

[soulie]: was nice to see you when we’re not drunk

[you]: hello???? are you really talking to me right now????

[soulie]: i am. did u delete my number its soul

[you]: i know, i didn’t delete it. just shocked you’re texting me

[soulie]: …

[soulie]: …

[soulie]: …

[soulie]: i don’t know how to ask this

[you]: you can tell me anything soul

[soulie]: …

[soulie]: can i see u, can we talk

[soulie]: i get it if u dont want to but i need to

[you]: yes, please, i’d love to. 

NU home ✧ speechless masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ ao3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[pixelaves]

could you draw Hazel and Peri hugging Dev?

i couldn’t decide between drawing the two of them hugging dev together or separately so i did both, hope you don’t mind

[curawrites]

Not So Casual Distraction

Xaden Rirorson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: slight Iron Flame spoilers, smut, unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, p in v sex, cursing, a slightly toxic relationship between Xaden and Violet.

Note: Heyyyyyyyyy… it’s been a year- but I’m back with new inspiration! I’m currently reading Onyx Storm and I miss the Iron Flame days 😭💚 Part two

Being stationed at Samara wasn’t as smooth going as Xaden had hoped.

He knew that he and Garrick would have to work from the ground up again, gain their comrade’s trust in them, make them see past their rebellion relics.. but fuck was it frustrating.

He hated being looked down upon as just a meager new lieutenant. At Basigath he had worked so hard to climb the ranks and gain respect as a wing leader.

It didn’t help that his relationship with Violet was going to shit. He couldn’t help keeping secrets, he has big responsibilities leading a revolution, knowledge and intelligence of major importance that couldn’t be trusted in the hands of someone still at Basigath.

They hadn’t even been together for a that long for Dunne’s sake, why the fuck would he divulge all his secrets and traumatic memories to her. She’d only get mad at him again for keeping such things from her and the cycle would just continue.

The mating bond just made things harder, Xaden was tied to her for the rest of his life whether he liked it or not, and he had to see her at least every weekend so their dragons could fuck and leave them to deal with simmering sexual tension that would not be healthy to act on.

All this pent up frustration was wearing on him. He became more brutal and harsh in sparring and he became extremely reckless and impulsive on patrols, resulting in him frequently injuring himself.

Xaden just needed an outlit to pour his frustrations into, but drowning himself in sparring and training wasn’t working like it usually did. He needed something more.

That something being you, apparently.

When he arrived at Samara he recognized you almost immediately. You had been his wing leader during his first year at Basigath, and one of his first hook ups at the college. It felt strange seeing you again, a good sort of strange. You’ve changed in the years since Xaden had last seen you, you were more mature, and even more gorgeous than he remembered, and still ever so tempting like you were three years ago.

Xaden stayed away from you for the most part. The feelings that were brought on from seeing you again were uncomfortable and Xaden didn’t feel like unpacking them, already having enough shit to deal with. He wanted to try to fix things with Violet anyways.

But it seemed Loial had other plans for him..

Xaden angrily dismounted Sgaeyl. Rage radiating off of him in waves. Sgaeyl wasnt very pleased with him. He had left Basigath mid Saturday after arriving Friday. Xaden couldn’t care less that he cut the visit short, Violet would be here next weekend anyway and she could stay here as much as she liked.

Fucking Violet Sorrengail.

All Xaden had wanted to do was have a quiet weekend with her after the fucking week he’s had. But no they needed to argue about the same thing they always did. He’d had enough by noon and decided to fuck right back off to Samara.

Xaden angrily entered the base, he really needed a shower and a meal.

Once bathed, he walked into the lieutenant’s common space, a scowl etched on his face.

“You’re back early.” You commented from the arm chair you were sat on.

Xaden tensed, a bit startled, “Mhm.” He hummed dismissively.

“I’m taking your visit didn’t go so well then, sorry about that.” You glanced up from your book to look at him. Noticing his tenseness you ended it there, deciding to not pry any further.

Xaden didn’t reply, focusing on making himself something to eat.

He sat in the middle of the couch and ate. No one spoke for a long while, the silence stretching comfortably.

After a while you set your book to the side and got up, only to return with two flasks.

“Here. You look like you need a drink.” You hand him one of the metallic flasks.

He takes it hesitantly, “Thanks, had a rough week.” He grunted as he took a sip.

“Tell me about it.” You scoff knowingly as you sat back down, taking a swig out of your own flask.

The more you chatted and caught up, the more you drank, finishing the flasks and each having two cups of ale on top.

The alcohol seemed to have loosened Xaden up more than he had intended and he soon found himself slamming you against the door to your barracks.

His hands roamed the expanse of your body as he made out with you. Grasping at the plumpness of your ass and breasts, he just couldn’t get enough of your right now.

You kissed him with equal fervour, nipping at his lips earning slap to your ass. Your hands tangled themself in the curls of his hair as you held onto him tightly.

Xaden pulled away from your lips to attack your neck. Sucking and nipping marks all over the untouched flesh.

“Fuck Xay..~” you panted as his hands wandered into your shorts, rubbing tight circles on your clit.

He kissed you again, slipping two fingers into your sopping pussy.

“Oh gods..~ don’t stop!~” you moaned as his fingers prodded at your sweet spot.

“Fuck..~” he groaned, “Taking my fingers so fucking well~” he praised enjoying the squelching noises your pussy made.

Your eyes rolled back and your cheeks flushed even more as your climax hit you in waves.

“Such a good fucking girl~” Xaden smirked to himself. “Making me so fucking hard~” he groaned as you began palming his erection.

“Made me feel so good Xay~” you say breathily, looking up at him with sultry half lidded eyes.

“Fuck- I need you now.~” he ripped your shorts down your legs and hastily pulled your tang top over your head.

He threw you onto your bed before hastily taking off his shirt and pants.

“Get on your fucking hands knees~” he growled, crawling onto your bed.

Gods that made you pussy flutter in anticipation.

You obliged his request happily, settling on your hands and knees with your back slightly arched.

Xaden’s mouth watered at the sight. Your pretty wet pussy spread perfectly and aching for his cock. He smacked your ass before forcing you to arch further, until your breasts touched the mattress

“Please Xaden just fuck me already~” you whined wiggling your hips while looking back at him over your shoulder.

Something in him just snapped and he roughly grabbed your hips and sheathed himself inside you.

“Oh my.. fuck you feel so fucking good~” he muttered as he began thrusting.

It wasn’t long before Xaden lost himself in your tight slick walls. All of his pent up stress, and anger was leaving his body as he pounded into you. Pinning your hands by your head and sucking hickeys all over your neck and back.

Your barrack was filled with the sound of skin slapping skin, your moans and Xaden’s grunts of pleasure.

“Oh my gods Xay!~ I’m cumming!~” you gasp out before your orgasm rocks your entire being.

Your vision blanked and all you could see were stars.

“Shit- your so.. fucking tight~” he grunted, your walls were practically milking him for everything he had.

“Please cum in me..~” you whine weakly, “wanna feel you..~” you don’t even finish your thought as Xaden was pushed over the edge.

“Ahh..~” he moaned quietly as he spilt inside of you.

For a while all that could be heard were both of your heavy breathing.

Eventually Xaden pulled out and silently watched his cum spill out of your spent pussy.

He got out of your bed and found a rag to clean you up with.

“Thanks..” you muttered tiredly, cheeks still flushed from the alcohol and the sex.

“S’no problem..” he shrugged as he threw the rag into your laundry.

Xaden flopped next to you on your bed and silently stared at you. His mind was reeling, did he just really do that with you, again? Why did it have to feel so good? Why was he still here in your bed?

Once you finally drifted off, he tore his gaze away and stared at the ceiling.

“It seems you’ve had a good evening..” Sgaeyl said bitterly through their bond.

“Shut it..” Xaden ran his hands over his face, he needed to pull himself together.

“I hope you know that the next time you see Tairn’s rider, you’ll have a lot of explaining to do..” Sgaeyl tutted “Your shield’s weren’t exactly the stablest tonight.”

Great. Just his fucking luck..

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ TAKE YOUR MASK OFF kim chaewon x reader

❀ ͘ ⴰ previous chapters | richgirl ⭢ that girl (she’s delicious) ⭢ idon’t smoke ⭢ pretty when you cry ⭢ homesick ⭢ super rich kids ⭢ girl, so confusing ⭢ consume (bonus)

↳ warnings richgirl!yn, angst (yn is still at home), family dynamics, rich kid things,chaewon is still chaewon just slightly more vulnerable, arguing, small hints of guilt, multiple perspectives (you’ll know who’s perspective it is when they switch)

the natural creaks and whispers of the mansion echoed through the hallways, casting a cold, eerie atmosphere over every corner.

her mind was racing, moving too fast for her to keep up. she couldn’t believe this was happening.

yn barely remembered anything after watching yunjin puke her guts out in the washroom. all she knew was her mom finding out and insisting the girls stay the night because yunjin shouldn’t be traveling while sick.

it made her sick.

the audacity that woman had.

she had finally made it home, a place no one had ever been but her and her family, and now her group members were sleeping in the spare rooms.

she bit down on her thumb nail, pulling her knees to her chest as the coldness of the hallway made everything feel worse. she knew she couldn’t stay there much longer, kazuha was asleep in her room and would probably come looking for her any minute.

yunjin’s words ran through her mind.

“I’m so sorry.”

you would think this would feel good, she was getting an apology.

nah.

this meant she was slipping, someone was seeing through her carefully crafted facade. 

yunjin’s words are the main reason why yn is spiralling at the moment, how could she let her emotions slip through like that?

she hadn’t even responded. all she did was slam the washroom door in yunjin’s face. rude. uncharacteristically so.

the yn they all knew, the kind, unbothered one would never do that, especially not to a girl who’d just thrown up.

but the real yn? the one without the facade she’d spent the last two years perfecting? yeah, she might. and that terrified her.

she had to go to bed before kazuha ambushes her with a bunch of questions she didn’t want to answer.

the sun rose early, filtering weak light through the tall, heavy curtains of the mansion. yn and her family were already awake, moving quietly through the halls. the silence felt different now, tense and watchful.

the girls were still asleep, chaewon and yunjin sharing one room, sakura and eunchae in another, and kazuha in yn’s.

chaewon stirred first, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. yunjin groaned next to her, squinting at the faint light coming through the cracks in the curtains.

“it’s so early,” yunjin muttered, her voice hoarse. chaewon stretched, yawning. “we should check on the others. maybe they’re up too.”

they shuffled out of the room, quietly opening the door to sakura and eunchae’s. sakura blinked at them, already half awake, while eunchae was still bundled under the blankets.

“what’s going on?” sakura asked, sitting up. “kazuha’s still out,” chaewon said. “can you two try waking her up? we’re going to find yn.” yunjin added sakura nodded, nudging eunchae awake.

chaewon and yunjin headed downstairs, their footsteps soft against the cold, polished floor.

the house felt endless, its corners shadowed despite the morning light. they turned a corner and froze.

yn was standing there, facing a tall man they had only seen of tv when the moon family had their conferences.

her older brother, they guessed, his sharp features matched hers, but his expression was cold, almost bored. yn, on the other hand, looked anything but calm.

“what the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, her voice low but shaking with anger.

jae, she’d called him rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “you’re being dramatic, as usual. they’re supposed to be your friends, aren’t they? act like it, I know you have your problems with them but I can’t deal with you right now.”

yn took a step closer, her fists clenched at her sides. “don’t you dare talk to me about acting. you don’t get to tell me how to feel in my own house. just—just make sure they’re gone by the afternoon.”

jae raised an eyebrow. “mom won’t go for that, and you know it. she loves this little ‘family bonding’ moment. not everything’s about you, yn.”

her hand moved before she could stop it, the sharp crack of her palm against his cheek echoing through the hallway.

chaewon and yunjin gasped softly, unable to hide their shock combined from yn’s words and actions, they both were thinking two different things.

this has definitely taken a toll on her.

she just keeps proving how much of a bitch she is.

guess which is which.

“you’ll make it about me,” yn snapped, her voice trembling. “mom loves you more, so if you tell her it’s best for them to leave, she’ll listen. don’t pretend you don’t know how this works.”

jae stared at her, stunned, before letting out a low, bitter laugh. “you’ve really lost it, haven’t you?”

yn ignored him, her chest rising and falling rapidly. her hands shook as she ran them through her hair, her nails digging into her scalp. her whole body seemed to vibrate with tension, like she was barely holding herself together.

jae glanced over yn’s shoulder, a smirk tugging at his lips. “looks like you’ve got company,” he muttered.

yn spun around quickly, a gasp escaping her lips before she whipped back around, shoulders tensing. a quiet curse slipped under her breath, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

chaewon and yunjin watched as yn grabbed the collar of jae’s shirt, yanking him down to her level. she whispered something harshly into his ear, her voice too low for anyone else to catch. while yn spoke, jae’s gaze flicked up to the two girls, his expression icy. the resemblance between him and yn was unnerving those piercing eyes seemed to run in the moon family.

when yn finally let go, jae straightened up, his demeanor indifferent. he didn’t spare chaewon or yunjin a glance as he walked away, like they weren’t even worth acknowledging. it wasn’t surprising, the moons always carried themselves with that unapproachable air.

chaewon opened her mouth to say something, but yunjin pinched her arm, silencing her

yn turned back around then, a bright, almost unnerving smile plastered across her face. “good morning! I hope you guys slept well, I know I did,” she chirped.

both girls looked at her like she was crazy, yn was a mess, despite her polished appearance it was obvious she was on edge.

“uh—” chaewon started, but yn cut her off before she could continue

“no time for chit chat,” yn interrupted breezily. “breakfast is almost ready. you’ll be eating on the second floor while my family eats on the first. and after that, you’ll unfortunately be leaving. I’ll see you on monday.”

before yunjin could even try to speak, yn was already walking off in the same direction jae had gone, her pace fast. the two girls were left standing there, unsure of what to make of everything they just saw.

“I know what you’re gonna say.” yunjin said, “but please don’t.” chaewon didn’t answer, her eyes still fixed on the spot where yn had stood, tension radiating from her every move.

after breakfast, the girls were gathered outside, waiting for the car to arrive. the morning sun was warm against their skin, but the atmosphere felt heavy. one of the house staff, stood quietly by the door, waiting to help with their bags.

chaewon leaned against the stone railing, crossing her arms. “so, about this morning,” she began, her voice low but sharp. “yn really let it slip today huh?” she laughed.

“what are you talking about?” sakura asked, frowning. eunchae looked up from her phone, wide eyed

chaewon glanced toward yunjin . “you heard her. she threw a whole tantrum to one of her brothers this morning, she even slapped him.”

sakura’s eyes widened. “she slapped her brother?”

chaewon nodded. “yep. right across the face. and not just that she basically told him to get us out of the house by this afternoon because she doesn’t want us here.”

“which is understandable.” yunjin muttered causing kazuha to look at her in shock but nod in agreement, since when did yunjin understand yn’s side of things?

chaewon didn’t hear her though.

eunchae’s jaw dropped. “she said that?”

“word for word,” chaewon replied, her tone smug. “and don’t get me started on the way she was talking to him. it’s like she’s unhinged or something, probably not used to getting her way.”

kazuha stayed silent, her expression unreadable. yunjin shifted uncomfortably, staring at the gravel driveway.

“maybe she’s just stressed,” kazuha said quietly.

chaewon scoffed. “stressed? oh okay.”

“chaewon,” yunjin said sharply, but chaewon ignored her.

“she’s exactly what i’ve been saying she is. a spoiled little princess who thinks she’s better than everyone else,” chaewon continued.

“cut her some slack,” kazuha snapped.

“do you have a crush on her?” eunchae asked at the same time, as much as she understood chaewon’s thoughts she couldn’t help but think yn’s money and privilege couldn’t be the reason for everything.

chaewon’s mouth dropped at eunchae’s words, “I do not! I don’t even like girls! and if I did yn would be the last person on the list, hell she wouldn’t even be on the list! and I have everything reason to criticize her stuck up behaviour so I will not cut her some slack!”

silence filled the air as everyone exchanged uneasy glances, unsure how to respond to the leaders outburst.

chaewon exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair before shoving her hands into her pockets. “ugh, I forgot my phone. I’ll be back,” she muttered, her tone lower but no less frustrated as she turned on her heel and stalked off.

chaewon stormed down the hall, still fuming from eunchae’s words. she pushed open the door to the room where she’d left her phone, ready to grab it and leave, but froze when she spotted yn.

yn was sitting on a chair, her head tilted back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. her expression was unreadable, almost serene, but there was a heaviness in the air that made chaewon hesitate for a moment.

but eunchae’s comment still rang in her ears, pushing her forward. she felt the need to prove to herself, to everyon, that she didn’t care about yn. that she didn’t like her, not even a little.

“well, this is fitting,” chaewon said, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. “just sitting here doing nothing. guess you’re really starting to show your true colors, huh? you talk big, when yunjin and I caught your little outbursts, you couldn’t even hide it.”

yn didn’t react. she didn’t even look at her, her gaze still fixed on the ceiling as if chaewon wasn’t even there.

the silence made chaewon slightly uncomfortable. her eyes flicked to the table beside yn, where her phone rested. without another word, chaewon walked over and reached for it, but before she could grab it, yn’s hand shot out, catching her wrist.

chaewon froze.

yn finally looked at her, her expression cold, her eyes sharper than chaewon had ever seen. “you know what, chaewon?” yn said, her voice low and steady, each word cutting through the tension like a knife. “you’re so lucky. and i’m gonna tell you why you’re lucky. because I’ve been so nice to you. you don’t even know the lengths people in my family will go to just to be respected, you’ve seen the news haven’t you? you’ve heard stories? you sure act like it, so keep that in mind the next time you decide to disrespect me in my own home.”

chaewon’s breath hitched. yn’s gaze was unrelenting, freezing her in place. her heart raced, the weight of yn’s words sinking in deeper than she wanted to admit.

a sudden honk from outside broke the tension, making chaewon flinch. yn released her wrist, standing up smoothly. “the car’s here,” she muttered, her voice detached now, before walking past chaewon and out of the room, her footsteps echoing faintly down the hall.

chaewon stood there for a moment, staring at the spot where yn had been. her chest felt tight, her thoughts racing. she finally grabbed her phone, her wrist tingling from yn’s touch as she picked it up.

for a while, she just stood there, trying to shake the lingering feeling she feels every time she’s alone with yn.

…

[droaxa]

awe yandere nerd is so cute!! i wonder how someone who acts oppositely to them would act as a yandere.

-🎀 anon

ooh you’re so right 🎀 anon, a yandere jock or popular kid would be interesting.. so here u are!

✧ yandere jock x reader

yandere jock who is one of the most popular guys at your university, everyone knows him. he plays basketball and is so charming that girls (and guys!) can't help but want to be around him, his handsome features totally help too.

yandere jock who you'd had some classes with in your freshman year. however, you hadn't seen him after that and forgot about him. but he couldn't forget about you

yandere jock who actually didn’t like you when he first met you, he thought you were too much of a doormat. he assumed off your quiet nature and antisocial tendencies that you couldn’t stand up for yourself or make your own decisions. and boy was he wrong

yandere jock who stumbles into you after class, well not really cause you hadn’t seen him yet. he watches a girl say somthing and shove you by your shoulder and he mentally scoffs ‘she gets bullied too? we’re in university i thought she’d grow a backbone by now’

yandere jock who is flabbergasted when you punch the girl straight in her face, she stumbles back, shocked, and curses you before running out the door and past yandere jock

yandere jock who is intrigued by your personality, so this is who you actually were. he tries to get closer to you: sitting beside you in lectures, talking to you after class, but just seem to hate him. often shutting down interactions or using the excuse that you’re busy to get away.

yandere jock who is frustrated but still dedicated, atleast until that semester ended. he’s annoyed because he never sees you anymore, and now that you didn’t have a shared class it’s even harder to catch you.

yandere jock who has you on his mind for the next two years, trying to make conversation with you whenever you saw he saw you. but the confused expression on your face said it all, your forgotten who he was.

yandere jock who’s fucking pissed, he spent two years thinking about you and you don’t even remember who he is? he makes it his life goal to make himself relevant to you. even if his ways were a bit.. unorthodox.

yandere jock who starts to pick on you, pushing you in the halls and spreading rumors about you. you’re confused, what did you even do to him? when you ask him, he just responds with “do i need a reason to?” with a tight grin.

quiet you who is now pissed. who did he think he was? a fucking gift from god that could do anything he wanted? you responds back with shoulder checking him in the hallways and pretending that he was bullying you and other students to the professors (well he kind of was wasn’t he?).

yandere jock who is mildly surprised, wow he knew you could fight back but this was different. he was flustered, you put all this effort into him?

yandere jock who retaliates with something a bit more extreme than you would’ve anticipated, he manages to convince one of the teachers that you cheated on a important test. the end of the year exam.

quiet you who is frustrated and angry, you’d worked your ass off to get that 95% and now he does this? oh it’s over for him

yandere jock who gets expelled from the university a week later. the reason? illegal drugs were found in his sports locker, not only was this against the school code but it put the basketball team at risk.

quiet you who pretends to not know anything, smirking as you get back into your study grind

yandere jock who decides that you need to be taught a lesson, although he’s not allowed on campus anymore, the girls dorms are in the edge of campus.

you wake up in the dark, what time was it? oh, just 2 am. you try to go back to sleep and hear some fabric rustling and you freeze. in the moonlit darkness of your room you can vaguely make out a shadowy figure at the foot of your bed.

your eyes widen and before you can scream or react, the figure leaps up and slams a rough hand over your mouth while keeping your body down with his own weight.

just as he leans over you, you make out his face as the moonlights from your window hits it. a strong face with messy hair you’d seen many times before. you didn’t think you’d see him again.

he grins manically, “you thought you could mess with me, forget about me and get away with it?” his voice breathy, like he was about to break into laughter at any moment.

you shake your head desperately no, tears form in your eyes as you register what’s going to happen to you.

he pressed you deeper into your pillow, your tears now running down your face and his hand. he then leans down to lick your salty tears off his hands and then your soft cheeks.

“fuck, i’ll make you understand why you shouldn’t forget about me”

[babypudge]

“I really don’t know what you see in that clown.” You regretted the words before you were even finished saying them. You wished you could grab them out the the air and stuff them back in your mouth. You didn’t need to wait for a reaction from your best friend since college, you knew each other well enough to read the look on her face. It didn’t help that she’d prefaced the lunch invitation by saying she had “big news” and was very clearly wearing a new ring on her left hand, though the topic hadn’t come up yet.

All the same, you felt your assessment was accurate. After all, you were the one who’d been dutifully sitting through her countless venting sessions about how her excessively outgoing boyfriend was constantly dragging her on “fun” dates in matching outfits to amusement parks, garishly themed novelty restaurants and any circus, magic show or fair that was happening less than two counties over. She didn’t need to tell you that she’d rather just stay home, chill and indulge in the introversion that’d you’d originally bonded over - you two shared a silent understanding that went deep enough to intuit that much.

You’ve never really understood why, but for as long as you’ve known each other, it’s the only kind of guy you’ve seen her go after - boisterous, outgoing and aggressively friendly men who’re just looking to settle down and raise a family. Sadly, you checked none of those boxes. You’d always been naturally shy and overly self-conscious, seemingly doing your best not to draw too much attention in life. All the same, you’d made more than a few failed attempts at making this more than a friendship over the years, only to be gently reminded that she just doesn’t "think of you that way.”

It was a shame - you really thought she could be the one to help you get past the overwhelming diaper fetish that had completely supplanted any interest in standard sex your whole life. You’d tried plenty of times to get into something more traditional, but all attempts so far had failed - some quite spectacularly. You told yourself that you just needed the right person to guide you, someone you could confess your unusual desires to and incorporate them until you got comfortable without them. You knew it was a pipe-dream, just something reassuring you’d tell yourself after another long session of scrolling through endless images of heavily padded men acting like giant toddlers, but it was hard to shake the pressure you felt to be more “normal” when comparing your love life to others.

A lifetime of hiding your childish cravings had left you uncomfortable with even the slightest hint of perceivable immaturity, and the distain you felt for your friend's lover was no doubt linked to a subconscious envy of his obliviousness to how much cringe-inducing attention he brought to himself in public, and how everyone seemed perfectly okay with it. You didn’t want to admit that you envied him, so it was easier to label him a “clown.”

“Hey kiddo, that’s no way to talk about your Daddy.” A familiar voice sprung up from the restaurant booth behind you, though with a firm and chastising tone you’d never heard before.

“Ugh, Sweetie, I thought we agreed that we were going to ease into this…” your friend said like she was looking right through you.

“I know, I know honey, but sometimes you just gotta jump into the pool!” the less than anonymous voice of her future husband replied.

“Okay, confession time.” Your best friend said while giving a stare that told you it was time to lock into every word that was about to come out of her mouth.

“If you think I haven’t been graciously putting up with your criticisms about my choice of partners for longer than I care to think about, baby-boy, you’ve got another thing coming. In spite of that, I’ve been out here looking for the best damn Daddy that this city has to offer for a long time now, and I won’t sit here and listen to my lil’ guy disrespects the father figure I’ve chosen for him! Please don’t think I don’t love you, sugar-plum, but a good Mommy knows not to put the cart before the horse!”

Suddenly, you felt a deeply painful pinch in your right ear. “I appreciate the history lesson, babe, but I think it’s time for a little less conversation and a little more action.” You followed the hand that seemed inescapably linked to your earlobe as it lifted you up out of the booth, past the kitchen and into the restaurant’s intimately small men’s room.

Effortlessly opening the latch on the baby chaining table with one finger, and letting it land with a heavy *thud* that was certainly not unnoticed by the occupant of the nearby stall, the man herby known as “Daddy” thrust you onto the molded plastic slab and undid your pants. “Well, I’ll give you an A for effort, Buster, but looks like we had a little accident. Did Daddy surprise you?" He poked at the notably damp Goodnite XXLs drooping between your legs. "Or did my sweet-pea just want to give me a sneak-preview of things to come?” He slid the soggy "underwear" down your quivering legs and opened the large bag on his hip.

“Sorry, small-fry, but I’ve got to check for myself.” He said before popping open a small bottle and squeezing a glistening substance into his hand. Despite his vigorous efforts, you remained limp and unaffected by the experience. “So far, so good. Okay, time for the real test.” He smirked, aggressively pulling a baby-print adult diaper from the bag and slowly unfurling it, meticulously fluffing it up and working out every possible “pop” it's plastic backing had to offer.

In no short order, and with no need for psychical manipulation, your little soldier was standing at full attention. “Aww, just as advertised!” He gave your throbbing manhood a quick, strangely platonic smooch that had a notable sense of paternal pride that you weren't sure how to react to.

“Oh, my foolish little clown..." he beamed before giving you a hard swat on the bottom "I'm going to have a LOT of fun with you!”

Now, you spend your weekdays indulging in your introversion while watching Bluey and snuggling with Mommy on the couch - trying your best not to think about the upcoming weekend with Daddy. Yet another weekend of singing silly songs on the way to hold hands at the grocery store, another weekend of getting your diaper changed in the movie theater bathroom, another weekend where you're told "It's okay, stinker, everyone gets to know..." when fielding deeply embarrassing questions about your lifestyle from perfect strangers in your stroller while wearing colorful matching outfits at amusements parks, theme restaurants and every circus, magic show or fair that your new Papa can find!

[obxcc]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ kitty!reader was a good friend. of course she’d show up when sarah texted her begging to show up to the beach. especially when she said kie was being a bitch.

warnings . . . 18+ male masturbation , profanity , ex!jj , butthead!kie for the plot i love my girl more than life , drinking

it had been far too long for jj to still have to pull out his phone and open your instagram just to get off every once in awhile. but there was this one post you still had up from years ago when you were still together. jj had taken it when you two were having a beach day. the red bikini that left nothing to the imagination. the activities he knew you got up to that night. god , it would get him to finish like nothing else.

he did feel bad about it every time! a little guilty. your words swirling around his head each time he nutted all over himself and his phone. you don’t act like you care about me , baby , and you ditch me for your friends all of the time , or even you’re not good at loving me.

yeah… nothing like a post nut clarity to make jj feel impossibly worse. so instead of dealing with the reality of his sticky situation , he just cleaned up and went to bed. the pogues had a big day tomorrow. there was this volleyball competition at the beach that john b signed the guys up for.

actually , scratch that. waking up and opening his phone to still see your picture pulled up is worse. he cleared his search history and swiped out of the app before getting ready and heading downstairs.

everything was going swimmingly at the tournament until you showed up. until you showed up in that fucking bikini. jj hadn’t seen you in maybe two years , and when he does you were wearing that.

he didn’t even know you were coming.

he didn’t know sarah had texted you sending for backup earlier in the day. SOS KIE STILL HATES ME. SEND BACK UP PLEASE. SOS SOS. and you weren’t doing anything but lounging around the condo , so of course you’d head out and help your best friend. you’d drop everything if you needed to. especially when sarah mentioned kie.

the three of you had all been friends at one point. you had been good friends with kie individually. you dated one of her best friends. but after her and sarah got into a huge fight your junior year , everything blew up. you were forced to pick sides , and you chose sarah , which only caused problems between you and jj. it was a shit storm inside of a shit storm when everything happened.

now here sarah was , falling for john b routledge. you hated to admit that it sort of made sense. you knew them both , and there was ways they just clicked. so as soon as you found out kie was making the process of falling in love hard for sarah , you were on the way.

you got dressed in a swimsuit , tied a wrap around your hips and set off for the beach. not before grabbing a bottle of tequila on the way out the door. maybe getting drunk out of her mind would help kie loosen the fuck up.

when you arrived to the beach , there weren’t too many people there. the game was paused , two teams huddled up on their respective sides of the sand court. so when you walked up to the game , bottle clinking in your purse , everyone looked.

“hiya , boys,” you batted your lashes , making eye contact with jj before the teams broke up to get back to the game.

it was like he was frozen in place , flashed back to a time just a few years ago you’d been with him on this very beach in a swimsuit so similar he could easily mix them up. “hey— uh , what are you doing here? didn’t know you liked volleyball,” he stammered , stepping closer to you as he eyed the way you fit your swimsuit.

your eyebrows scrunched up as your hand came between you. “why are you standing so close to me?” you asked him , shuffling back in the sand but jj was more focused on the ring that wrapped around your finger. a ring he gave you on your eighteenth birthday.

“i’m not—“

“jayj! get your head out of your ass!”

you knew who was yelling at jj from the sidelines before you even looked. he darted away , jumping back into the game as you made your way over to sarah with a big grin. “look at you , sexy mama!” you greeted her , kissing her cheek.

“did you sneak alcohol into this event?” sarah giggled , wrapping her arm around your waist as she heard the glass bottle hitting other items in your purse.

“well , i wasn’t about to deal with kie sober , and i thought maybe it’d help lighten her mood a bit,” you shrugged.

“i don’t know,” the blonde sighed , stopping before you got too close to kie’s spot on the bleachers, “she’s like really mean now.”

you took a glance at the girl , seeing she looked the exact same as she did the last time you saw her— ocean salted hair with a hippie-esque outfit , and rolled your eyes. “sarah,” you began , putting your hands on her shoulders, “we’re not gonna let some bitch from high school flush you out , okay? we’re the bitches from high school.”

it wasn’t much of a pep talk , but it worked enough to get sarah moving up the stairs to sit down next to kie again.

“as if one of you wasn’t enough,” kie spoke , not bothering to force a smile onto her lips.

“yeah , you know you used to be one of us , right?” you replied , pulling the tequila from your purse and unscrewing it, “what?” you questioned kie and her furrowed brows as you took a gulp, “did you think the three of us could hang out sober?”

you held the bottle out , wiggling it to entice her more. “whatever,” she rolled her eyes as she grabbed the bottle and took a swig.

she passes it to sarah expectantly , causing the blonde to jump before mouthing ‘thank you’ your way and taking a drink of her own. “how ‘bout we play a game?” she suggested , giving you another turn with the liquor.

“a game?” kie repeated , tearing her eyes from the actual game in front of you.

“yeah , like we take a shot every time the boys score?” you added on , taking one already with a shrug as the ball lands on the other side of the court.

“mmm , no. that was a fluke. they’re not actually good,” sarah chuckled, “maybe every time the other team scores?”

you both look at kie , waiting for her response. “what the hell , why not?” she rolled her eyes , reaching into your purse to pluck out a solo cup she saw, “fill me up , skank.”

“oh! better than a poser!” you remarked , not surprised by her outward nastiness , before tilting the bottle and pouring her plenty liquor, “here , babe,” you muttered , filling the second cup and handing it to sarah.

soon enough the game ended with your ex boyfriend and his friends winning. it was a long game though , giving you , kie , and sarah plenty of opportunities to get drunk. the bottle only held a dribble of tequila left in the bottom after you ditched the solo cups all together.

“hey , you girls look like you’re having fun… together?” john b spoke , gladly catching sarah when she flung her happy drunk self into his arms. he kissed her , squeezing at her waist before bringing her feet back to the sand. “y’guys drunk?” he chuckled , looking at you the most suspiciously.

“it got kiara to be nice to sarah for more than ten minutes , so i’ll say it was a good idea , john b,” you remarked , tossing the bottle back into your purse all while ignoring the heat of jj’s gaze.

but of course , he wasn’t going to not say something. as you stood from the hot metal bleachers and readied yourself to order an uber , you wobbled. jj’s hand shot out , gripping your elbow to not let you fall.

“yeah… i don’t think you should be driving,” he admitted , shooing john b away. kie left the moment cleo and pope joined them , so when the brunette dragged his girlfriend off to the twinkie , it was just you.

“i’m fine,” you grumbled , pulling your arm from him and walking away. you rolled your eyes at the sound of footsteps behind you. “my uber’s like five minutes away,” you announced loud enough for the blonde to hear.

jj caught up with you , grabbing your shoulders and turning. “why won’t you talk to me?” he asked , eyes darting away when he realized that his voice sounded far more hurt than he wanted it to.

“because i dumped you.”

ouch. no shit.

“okay , yeah… but i thought we’d at least be applicable?” jj shrugged , letting his hands fall from you as his eyes fell to your chest.

“amicable and my eyes are up here,” you scoffed , hand reaching to push his chin up, “besides me not tearing into you about how awful you were to me every time i see you is amicable enough,” you added , hating that you could remember everything about your relationship so clearly.

you hadn’t seen jj in so long , and having him in front of you— really in front of you just reminded you of how much you used to miss him. sure , you liked to get on his ass about the bad stuff , but there was so much good. you recalled how much fun you had with jj , like nothing else but you and him matter. you’d ride around the island on his bike and go fishing and surfing and everything else you hadn’t done in years.

you hadn’t let yourself think about it all that much. it hurt , so you pushed it down , and now? jj’s shirtless torso was reminding you of everything you’d shoved down in the worst ways. just looking at him flashed you back into your bedroom.

late nights when jj would sneak into your room through your bedroom window when your parents were home before absolutely plowing into you.

“who’s eyes are wandering now?” jj chuckled , noticing the dazed look in your eyes.

you were caught off guard , not realizing yourself that you’d been staring. “will you drive me home?” you asked , eyes flicking up to jj’s. you knew this was stupid. you knew the moment the words left your lips.

but you missed him.

“thought you didn’t like me. treated ya bad and shit?” jj replied , already decided that he was going to drive you before you asked. but two could play cat and mouse. you’d done it before.

you sighed , looking down at your nails. “wasn’t all bad…” you whispered , reaching out to his hands before looking at the ring that adorned one of them. “y’still wear this?”

“you wear mine,” he shrugged, “nicest thing anyone’s ever gotten me. wasn’t gonna throw it out just cuz you dumped me.” he thought about it. thought about launching the silver ring into the ocean so many times , but it was the last thing of yours he had.

“i miss you sometimes,” you admitted , intertwining your fingers, “miss us.” the last bit was whispered , and jj nearly missed it as he was helping you into your passenger seat.

and as he rounded the front of the car , he definitely knew he wanted to get back together with you. he missed ‘us’ too.

[whismizxal]

who’s her man? ln4

── in which y/n y/l/n soft launches her relationship and her fans are determined to find out who it is.

── warnings: fluff, secret relationship, love, laughing, I am not sure what else so let me know if there’s anything I missed.

f1 drivers. navigation. prt 2

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yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, somerandomfan and 120,292 others

yourusername love 🤍

view 10,292 comments

username ummm, what???

username ok what

username who the fuck is that? oh hell no

username finally thought she was gonna be single forever

yourbestfriend so glad to see you happy my love!!!

yoursibling feel so bad for him.

⤷ yourusername hope you step on legos barefoot

⤷ yoursibling that’s just rude

username now I wanna know who he is

⤷ username do you think he’s famous?

⤷ username maybe? I mean I never thought she’d date someone famous. she always likes keeping her life quite private.

⤷ username doesn’t mean she wouldn’t date a famous person. there’s tons of celebs who like having a private life.

⤷ username fair, but if he is famous, what circle is in? like acting, music, maybe sports?

⤷ username I doubt she’d date a sports celeb, she seems like the type to go for a musician

⤷ username maybe, but it could very well be an actor

⤷ username what if he’s all of them lol

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TO SAY THAT Y/N Y/L/N was in love was an understatement. she had fallen head over heels for lando norris, and to anyone watching it was clear he too was absolutely in love with her.

their relationship had been kept secret for the past two years, and it was surprising that they hadn’t been caught yet with the amount of times she had gone to his races, hugged him, and even gone out for dinner together.

although they had seen rumours, neither of them felt the need to confirm them since they enjoyed keeping their relationship to themselves. only their family and trusted friends knew.

“I can’t wait to see you. what time is your flight?” lando asked through the face time call. his voice filled with happiness as he talked.

“um, 10pm. I should be there latest 1am I think.” she responded with a smile as she prepared her dinner. “I feel bad that I am gonna miss qualifying.” she said almost sadly, looking at the phone.

“your work comes first my love, as much as I would love to have here for all of the weekends, I know you can’t always do it. I am just happy you can come to the race.” he says softly, looking at her through the camera in adoration.

she smiles softly as a hint of blush creeps up her cheeks.

“you should get some rest, I don’t want you to be tired tomorrow when you celebrate getting the pole position.” she spoke happily.

“you’ve been doing your manifesting?” he asks as lets out a soft laugh.

“always.” she says as she laughs softly, her eyes filled with utter joy which didn’t go unnoticed by lando.

“I love you.” he tells her with complete certainty.

“I love you too.” she responds, her smile never dropping as he ends the facetime call.

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend and 133,292,191 others

yourusername my new album ‘little bit of me’ is gonna come out on june 15th. eight tracks for you guys to listen to xx

view 10,229 comments

username so excited!!!

landonorris can’t wait to have it on repeat

yourusername liked this comment

username since when was lando norris a fan!!

username I am so hyped!!!

username never knew lando liked y/n’s music

username OML I THINK I KNOW WHO Y/N’S MAN IS

⤷ username who’s her man?

⤷ username lando norris!

⤷ username who’s that?

⤷ username I am gonna pretend I didn’t just fucking read that

an: might do a part two?

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[itsaintmebabe]

pure as snow

summary: in the quiet safety of jackson, joel miller fights his fear of hope and love as his growing feelings for y/n threaten the walls he’s built around his heart.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

notes: trying to write more fluff cause i feel like i’m always writing angst

The first snow of the season dusted Jackson like a quiet promise, soft and fragile, covering the rough edges of a world that had seen too much. The sound of boots crunching against it was the only thing breaking the hush as Joel made his way through the streets.

He saw her before she saw him.

Y/N stood by the paddock, arms wrapped around herself against the cold. The wind tugged at her hair, and the early morning light cast her in shades of pale gold and soft blue. She looked untouchable, a thing of quiet beauty in a world that had no business being gentle.

But Joel knew better. She wasn’t untouchable.

“Y/N.” His voice came rough, scraping against the cold air.

She turned, and the fragile stillness cracked. Her eyes landed on him, guarded and cautious, and Joel felt that familiar ache settle deeper into his chest. It had been there since the day they arrived in Jackson, since the day she smiled at him like he was worth something and made him remember things he thought he’d buried long ago.

It had started slowly. Joel and Ellie arriving in Jackson, trying to adjust to a life that felt almost too good to be true. Y/N had been there from the start, patient and kind, but never pushy. She helped Ellie settle in first, showing her around, introducing her to the kids, and making Jackson feel like a home. And maybe that’s why Ellie had taken to her so fast.

She was there when Ellie had nightmares, calm and steady when Joel didn’t know what to say. She taught Ellie how to ride better, helped her learn to shoot straighter, and sometimes just sat with her when the weight of the world got too heavy. Joel watched it happen, watched his girl find a kind of peace he didn’t think was possible anymore and it was because of Y/N.

“She likes you, you know,” Joel had said one night after patrol, the two of them tending to the horses in the stable.

Y/N had smiled, brushing a hand over the mare’s flank. “She’s easy to like.”

“Not always.”

That made her laugh, really laugh, and Joel remembered thinking how good it sounded, how rare it felt.

“Guess I just know how to handle stubborn people.” She’d shot him a look then, teasing and warm.

“Think you’re funny, huh?”

“A little.”

Ellie had noticed too. It didn’t take long.

“You like her,” Ellie teased one afternoon, flopping onto the couch with a smirk. “You get all weird when she’s around.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Drop it, Ellie.”

But she hadn’t. Not really. And maybe the kid was right, maybe Joel did get a little weird around Y/N. Because she made him feel things he hadn’t let himself feel in years, warmth, safety, hope. And that scared the hell out of him.

“Morning,” she said softly.

He nodded, coming to stand next to her at the fence. “Cold one.”

“Yeah.”

The silence stretched out, thick with words neither of them knew how to say. Joel wanted to reach out, to touch her hand, her cheek, but he kept his fingers curled into his gloves.

“You gonna be on patrol today?” he asked after a while.

She shook her head. “Tommy gave me a break.”

He felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. “Good. You… you should rest.”

Y/N’s lips twitched in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You always say that.”

“Because you never listen.”

That earned him a quiet laugh, but it faded too quickly. The wind shifted, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and frost, and Joel found himself watching her from the corner of his eye.

“You don’t have to keep looking out for me, Joel.”

The words were soft, but they hit hard.

“Somebody’s gotta,” he said quietly.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I know.”

She turned to face him fully then, eyes searching his face. “Then why do you always act like you’re waiting for me to break?”

He didn’t have an answer for that or maybe he had too many. Because the world broke things. It broke people. And the more you cared about something, the more it hurt when it got taken away.

“I just…” He swallowed hard. “I don’t want anything happenin’ to you.”

The air between them felt heavier, filled with the weight of things unsaid. And then Y/N reached out, her gloved fingers brushing against his arm.

“I’m right here, Joel.” Her voice was soft. Steady. “You don’t have to keep waiting for the worst.”

But he did. He always did.

Before he could stop himself, his hand covered hers. The warmth of her touch bled through the cold, and Joel let himself hold on, just for a moment.

“You’re too good for this world,” he murmured.

“I’m not,” she whispered back. “I’ve just… managed to keep some pieces of myself together.”

He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she was the purest thing he’d found in a world gone bitter and dark. But Joel had never been good with words, and he was even worse when it came to hope.

So he held her hand a little tighter, and when she didn’t pull away, it felt like the first real warmth he’d known in years.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 10: The Bridges Burned Around Us

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15

Be good to me, and I'll be good to you (but please don't be too good to be true)

(In which an apologetic writer finally finishes a chapter that took much longer than necessary)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff and Angst

Words: 10.2K (seems fitting for chapter 10 lol)

TW: Swearing

A/N: Hello my lovelies :) I am so incredibly late with this I know but considering it's really the length of two chapters, I think I should be forgiven. Despite how long this took me, I don't really know how I feel about this chapter because it's both filler but also pretty important so honestly it does feel a little all over the place. But I hope y'all like it anyways. I do suggest quickly skimming over Part 2 before you read this just to jog your memory a little bit. I did edit as I always do but there's probably typos/mistakes, so feel free to point those out. As always, let me know what you liked, what you disliked and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a wonderful weekend my loves <3

May 2033

“What the hell Bueckers?” Coach yells, glaring daggers at Paige who has the audacity to at least look a little embarrassed as she reaches a hand to help the rookie she’d just knocked over with far too much unnecessary force. Azzi narrows her eyes at the scene, confused at Paige’s atypical behavior. It wasn’t uncommon for the vets to rib the rookies a little bit, hell they had a whole ragging initiation ceremony planned for this weekend to welcome the newest members of their team, but Paige seemed to have a personal vendetta against Angie Davis.

When they’d watched the draft together, Azzi could’ve seen sworn she’d seen a flash of uncomfortableness flicker in Paige’s eyes as the commissioner announced that the Valkyries, with their third pick acquired via Atlanta, were picking Angie Davis from Stanford University. The blonde had stiffened but only for a split second and Azzi had chalked it up to nothing because really, what beef could Paige possibly have with a 22 year old? Except clearly something was bothering the Minnesota native because this is the fifth time today itself that Paige has fouled the girl so hard that her body had almost slightly bounced as it hit the floor. 

The first time, everyone had found it amusing because who didn’t laugh at a rookie getting a taste of the league. The second time, Coach had rolled her eyes but the rest of the team had still found it pretty funny. And then as it continued, Azzi could tell her teammates were just as confused by Paige’s behavior as she was. They might not know the blonde as well as Azzi did, but in the last month or so they’d discover that the basketball superstar was really just a ball of golden retriever energy. Since they’d started training camp recently, they’d seen that Paige always practiced hard but she also had the time of her life doing it. They’d seen that she might practically bulldoze her teammates in her eagerness to be a good defender but she’d always be the first one to help pick them up with a teasing grin on her face right after. Except apparently not with Angie. With Angie, there was nothing but brute force and the first couple of times, before Coach’s clear irritation had started to seep onto her face, Paige hadn’t even bothered helping the rookie up. And although Azzi would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that a part of her found this aggressive display of strength just a tad bit attractive, she also knew it was completely unlike her Paige to be acting like this. 

“So,” she says softly, lowering her voice purposefully as she sidles up to Paige in the locker room after practice, “are we going to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” there’s a smirk on Paige’s face as she takes a step closer towards Azzi. 

The brunette narrows her eyes, “you know what.”

“What I know,” Paige whispers as she ghosts her hands across Azzi’s hips, keeping her movement innocuous as to not alert their other teammates who are engrossed in conversation not too far away from them, “is that I’m pretty sure you’re just looking for a way to get close to me.” 

“You’re so fucking full of yourself,” but she can’t stop the faint blush that’s creeping up  her cheeks as Paige’s hot breath fans across her face and her gaze shifts to the blonde’s sweat sheened biceps that are on fully display under her flimsy tank top. 

Paige notices it immediately as her smirk widens, “appreciating the view baby?”

“Shut up,” Azzi shoves her back lightly, “don’t try and distract me.”

“‘I’m not even trying. I just have that effect on you,” Paige shrugs coyly as she pushes herself back into Azzi’s space.

The brunette’s eyes dart over to her teammate for a brief second, making sure the rest of them are still occupied with their own conversations as she takes her own step towards the blue-eyed woman, the edges of her lips turning up into a smug grin when she hears Paige’s breath hitch, “and what about the effect I have on you?”

There’s something thrilling about hiding this from their team, something sexy about having to keep their hands to themselves when they’re constantly desperate to touch. It was torture in a way, having Paige so close and not being able to kiss her or hold her. But that only meant that when Azzi did finally get to do all of those things, it felt like finally coming up for air; like after being deprived of her oxygen for so long, she could finally breathe. 

Last time around, they’d kept it a secret from the world but everyone who meant something to them had known. Their old teammates for one. This time, especially since they hadn’t quite defined what this was, they’d chosen to keep it even closer to their chests. It had been Paige’s idea this time and Azzi thinks maybe she’d proposed it just to beat the brunette to the punch-maybe she’d even been a little disappointed by it- but she thinks that they probably do need a little more time; a little more time to trust that this time they wouldn’t go up in flames, that they wouldn’t burn everyone else around them. 

“You don’t- you don’t have any effect on me,” Paige stutters. 

“Is that right?” Azzi asks coyly, taking her shirt off at a ridiculous slow pace, enjoying the way blonde’s eyes are immediately drawn towards her toned abs, “none at all?” 

“N-no,” Paige gulps as she watches the brunette finally get rid of the offending t-shirt and she’s left in nothing but a sports bra that does little to hide the curves underneath. 

“Appreciating the view baby?”  Azzi smirks, repeating the older woman’s words from before she slyly runs her index finger across the purplish red hues of a hickey Paige had left on her collarbone from the night before. 

“You’re so-”

“Bueckers,” a loud voice interrupts Paige’s groan as the two of them spring apart, everyone in the room turning to look at their Coach leaning against the doorframe, “in my office. Now.”

It feels a little bit like they’re college students being reprimanded again but there’s this nagging intuition in Azzi’s gut, as she watched Paige sheepishly follow Coach into her office, that she’s missing out on some important information. Something churns in her stomach at the thought of it. Things had been near perfect so far; they were climbing back up to what they had been, maybe climbing their way to something better but Azzi thinks that if another gust of circumstance tries to shove them down again, they might not be able to get back up this time. Because this time, they’re not climbing alone. This time, they have Stephie and at the end of the day, she’s all that matters. 

“So is Paige’s car broken or something?” Tessa’s question catches Azzi off guard as she shakes herself out of head and looks at her teammate with confusion. 

“Uh no why?”

“I mean it’s just every time she shows up somewhere, it seems she’s in your car, with you. So I just figured something must be up with her car, why else would y’all be carpooling literally every single day unless-” there’s a sparkle in Tessa’s eyes as she leans casually against her locks, “unless there’s another reason?”

“What other reason could there be?” Azzi’s voice is unusually high-pitched as she avoids Tessa’s perceptive eyes and instead glares daggers at a spluttering Jana, “her car’s in the shop. That’s it. That’s definitely it. That’s the only reason I’m driving her around.”

“Aw that sucks,” Laila says with an oblivious empathetic smile, “I mean we could help out if that’s the case? With carpooling.”

“I don’t think-”

“What a lovely idea Phelia,” Tessa smirks and Azzi knows just by how guileful it is, that the former Gamecock is absolutely onto them, “what do you think Azzi? Maybe we can make a little chart for who drives Paige to practice huh? Be welcoming to our teammate?”

Resisting the urge to flip off both Tessa and Jana whose shoulders are shaking with laughter, Azzi settles on a sugary sweet smile instead, “I don’t think that’s necessary-”

“Oh we’d be happy to help,” Tessa chirps happily and Azzi’s suddenly wistful for the moment back in her senior year when she’d dropped the South Carolina guard for an easy layup. 

“And that’s very kind of y’all but,” she reaches over to squeeze the younger girl’s shoulder tightly, making her grunt in discomfort, “I think Paige is okay. It just works better if it’s one person. Less complications, you know?”

“Won’t somebody please think about the complications,” Jana snickers. 

“I’m so confused,” Laila says, a frown on her face as she looks weirdly at her teammates. 

“It’s nothing,” Azzi says shrilly as she slings both her and Paige’s bags on her shoulders, rolling her eyes when both Jana and Tessa giggle at the domesticity of the action, “don’t worry about it, Phelia.”

“Y’all are acting strange,” Laila shrugs as she starts to make her way out of the locker room and Azzi’s rounds on the other two women. 

“Whatever you think you know Tess,” Azzi raises a finger in warning, “keep it to yourself.”

Tessa makes a point to make a zipping motion across her lips as her eyes glimmer with mischief. 

“Thank god,” Jana gasps dramatically, “I was so tired of having to deal with these two all by myself. Do you know how hard it is Tess? I’ve been doing it for YEARS.”

“You poor soul,” Tessa coos, “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you. They’re kind of disgusting.”

“You peeped that already? Damn Azzi, do you realize how sickening y’all must be for Tessa to have already figured it out?”

“No forreal,” Tessa teases, “if you don’t want people catching onto your shit, I suggest y’all stop eyefucking every other second.”

“Fuck all the way off. Both of you,” Azzi grunts as Jana practically howls with laughter.

“You kiss your daughter with that mouth Fudd?”

“I dunno about Stephie,” Tessa drops her voice so only Jana and Azzi can hear her, “but I bet she kisses Paige with that mouth huh Az?”

Azzi groans, hiding her bright red face in her hands as her teammates' jovial laughter echoes through the locker room.

*** 

Paige is eerily quiet as she climbs into the passenger seat and Azzi knows immediately by the way she doesn’t try to coax her way into driving, that whatever conversation she’d had with Coach, likely hadn’t been a pleasant one. There are a thousand and one questions taking birth in her mind but Azzi doesn’t voice any of them, knowing Paige isn’t ready to answer them. Instead, she laces her fingers through Paige’s, resting them on the other girl's lap as she rubs a soothing circle against the back of her hand, a promise of whenever you’re ready to share, i’ll be ready to listen. 

They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts, one driven by that fact Paige has practically moved into Azzi’s house at this point. Their day started with them dropping Stephie off at school before the two of them would go to training or practice or whatever basketball activities they had planned. Then, they’d go to pick up Stephie from school and Azzi would drop her and Paige off at Curry camp while she ran various errands before circling back to pick them up. It’s domestic as hell and there’s a part of Azzi that’s still a little fearful; perhaps they’re trying to fit the puzzle pieces of their separate lives into each other a little too quickly. But she thinks that maybe those puzzle pieces had never really been disconnected, because sometimes she thinks their existence might just be an extension of each other’s. 

“You know,” Azzi begins softly when it becomes abundantly clear Paige isn’t going to speak first, “I’m okay with the fact that you’ve probably fucked other people. I mean other than the woman you married as well that is.”

“What the fuck?” Paige’s head whips towards her so quick, it must hurt just a little bit, “where the fuck did that come from?”

Azzi shrugs, “I’m just saying-”

“Why are you just saying?” Paige's eyes widen in panic as she possessively tightens her grip on the brunette’s hand, “are you about to tell me about someone you hooked up with? Because I’mma be honest Azzi I’d rather jump out of this moving car then hear about some whore who had the audacity-”

“Audacity? You do realize I was-”

“Say you were single and I actually will jump out of the car,” Paige warns, “but no actually dude what the fuck?”

“Well you see,” Azzi says carefully, “I’m trying to figure out why you’re being such a bitch to our new rookie and after careful deliberation, I’ve come to the conclusion that she’s gotta be a hookup gone wrong because why the fuck else would Paige Bueckers, who has a hard time killing a spider, be so unnecessarily mean to this poor girl?” 

There’s silence in the car for a second as Paige opens and closes her mouth, unable to get a word out, until she doubles over laughing, the sound of it echoing all around them. Azzi can’t help the soft grin that flitters across her face, relieved at seeing the way the tension begins to dissipate from the blonde’s shoulders. And Azzi swears that when Paige laughs, it feels a little bit like the sun has come out again; like the flowers are blooming and birds are chirping and everything is right in the world again and she thinks the sun should probably be jealous of the warmth Paige exudes because at least against the silhouette of Azzi’s sky, Paige burns brighter than the sun ever will. 

“You-you think I fucked Angie?” Paige finally manages to splutter out between peals of laughs, “baby she’s barely 22.”

“Hey,” Azzi pouts, “you always did go for younger women. Like me for example.”

Paige narrows her eyes, “you’re literally one year younger than me.”

“One year and a couple of days,” Azzi corrects. 

Rolling her eyes Paige uses both hands to hold Azzi’s non-driving one, “Azzi I swear to you that I have never in my life hooked up with Angie fucking Davis.”

“I know,” Azzi confesses, eyes still focused on the road ahead of her, “so what exactly is your problem with her then Paige?”

“You couldn’t have just asked me that?”

Azzi shrugs, “felt like I needed to make you laugh first. So tell me Bueckers-” before she can continue, she feels lips being pressed to her cheeks and can’t help the crimson tinge it elicits on her face, “what- what was that for?”

“Because you’re a little bit of a sap and I’m glad you’re my sap,” Paige grins, “all mine.”

“You’re trying to change the topic.”

“I am not.”

“Paige.”

The blonde sighs, leaning her head back against the headrest, “can we talk about it tonight? I wanna tell you I promise- I just- I think we need to sit down so that I- I can explain it to you properly.”

“That feels ominous,” Azzi’s stomach clenches at the seriousness in Paige’s voice as she turns onto the street for Stephie’s school, “should I be worried?”

“No,” Paige says firmly, bringing their enclosed hands to her mouth so she can brush a kiss across Azzi’s knuckles, “it’s nothing we can’t get through.”

Azzi nods as she pulls into the school parking lot, mustering up a reassuring smile of her own as she squeezes Paige’s hand. But there’s still a speck of fear dancing around in her gut; it’s this constant fear of losing Paige again that she doesn’t think she’ll ever truly be able to sweep out of her system. They’ve been doing so good these last few weeks -like they’re collecting together the scattered pages of everything we used to be and binding them back together with strings of all that we can become- but sometimes Azzi finds herself afraid that it might all just disappear, that a gust of wind might blow everything out of her hands all over again. 

“HI MAMA. HI MISS BUECKS,” she’s shaken from her thoughts by the backdoor opening as Stephie barrels into the car, the happiness in her voice contagious as she leans over the console to kiss Azzi and then Paige, before hanging between them and tapping at her own cheeks. The two adults laugh as they simultaneously press their lips to the little girl's cheeks, causing her dimples to deepen as she giggles between them. 

“How was school Stephie-bean?” Paige asks, peering over her own shoulder to make sure Stephie buckles herself in correctly as Azzi backs the car out. 

Stephie scrunches up her nose is distaste, “it’s school Miss Buecks. It was so boring. Except for lunch. Lunch was great. I love lunch.”

“You’re so real Steph,” Paige nods seriously, “lunch is the best and school is so bor-”

“Paige!”

“C’mon Az, I’m not gonna lie to the kid.”

“Exactly Mama,” Stephie chimes in loyally from the backseat, “lying is bad.”

Azzi rolls her eyes as Paige twists her hand to hold it out for Stephie to high-five it from the backseat, “the two of you are insufferable.”

“What does that mean?” Stephie asks, tilting her head in confusion. 

“It means we’re her most favorite people in the world,” Paige winks at the little girl as Azzi shakes her head fondly, choosing to keep the you’re more than that, you two are the reason my world keeps turning that tastes sugary sweet on the tip of her tongue to herself as she continues to drive. 

“What do y’all want for dinner?” she asks instead, ready to make a mental note of ingredients she might need to pick up from the grocery store while Paige and Stephie are at Curry Camp. 

“Actually,” there’s a slight nervous lilt to Paige’s voice and when Azzi looks over, she finds the older woman fidgeting anxiously with her thumbs, “I was thinking that maybe um- maybe y’all could come over to mine tonight? Maybe I can cook?”

They haven’t stayed at Paige’s since that first disastrous night. It hadn’t been on purpose per say; it was simply just easier to stay at Azzi’s, especially with Stephie to consider but perhaps a part of it had been subconscious self-preservation on the younger girl's part. Something about sleeping over at Paige’s feels more purposeful; like she’s fully letting herself step back into the other’s girl world and this time with the promise to not run away in the morning. It’s scary but when Azzi sees the hopeful look on Paige’s face as the blonde bites her lips, she thinks it’s worth it to take the leap; she’s ready for it. 

“I think that would be nice,” she says with a soft smile, “I’ll pick up some clothes for Stephie while y’all are at camp.”

Paige beams and Azzi can tell she’s itching to lean over to grab her hand or kiss her touch her in any way but there’s still the little fact they still haven’t quite told Stephie anything about them yet that stops her from doing any of the above. 

“What do you think of that Stephie bean? You wanna have a sleepover at my place tonight?” she redirects her attention to the little girl instead. 

“YES PLEASE,” Stephie squeals, practically bouncing on her car seat before a frown crosses her forehead, “but um-” she hesitates, “you um- you can’t cook Miss Buecks.”

Azzi bursts into a laughter as an offended look clouds Paige’s face, “excuse me? I absolutely can cook.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie says, her condescension-filled tone as adult as she can make it be, “you burned my eggs three times this week and then Mama had to make them all over again and we were almost late for school,” the little girl smirks through her ramble, “but that’s okay because I don’t mind being late for school because like I said school is really boring.”

“Okay but what about the one time I didn’t burn the eggs?” Paige haughtily crosses her arms over chest, “have we all just forgotten about that?”

“Pretty sure they were a little undercooked and saltless that one time-OW,” Azzi’s snicker is cut off by a pinch to her stomach, “do you want me to crash the car woman?”

Paige ignores her, turning back to look at Stephie with a betrayed expression, “you said you liked them?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feeling Miss Buecks,” the little girl wails and Azzi feels a mix of pride and love bloom in her heart at the kind soul she’s raised, “I’m sorry Miss Buecks but I just-” Stephie reaches as far as her seatbelt will allow to cup Paige’s hand in her tiny hands, “I really don’t think you should cook Miss Buecks.Please. I don’t wanna die yet. I’m too cute to die.”

“You know what Stephie bean,” Paige taps the little girl’s nose, “I think you might be even more of a drama queen than me-”

“Don’t sound so proud,” Azzi mutters under her breath. 

“Shhh,” Paige chastises, never looking away from Stephie, “but alright sweetheart. I won’t cook. How about we order pizza?”

Stephie lets out a delighted cheer as Azzi grumbles, “more junk food? I swear to god Bueckers you’re completely ruining her diet.”

“On the contrary, I think I’m finally fixing it. You poor thing,” Paige coos at Stephie dramatically, “I bet your Mama was torturing you with nasty green things all day every day before me huh?”

“No no no Miss Buecks, veggies are good for you,” Stephie recites loyally and Azzi grins triumphantly at Paige. 

“Oh dear Stephie you’ve been brainwashed-”

“Excuse me? Don’t try to corrupt my child out of her good habits.”

“I’m not corrupting her,” Paige defends as Azzi makes a left turn into the parking lot for Curry Camp, “I’m just teaching her the wonders of grease and oil and all the other fun things that adults lie are bad for you.”

“Paige you are an adult.”

“But a fun one,” Paige smirks, waggling her eyebrows at Stephie through the mirror as Azzi stops the car right outside the building, “right Stephie-bean?”

“The fun-est-est-est-est,” Stephie choruses back as she begins to unbuckle herself so she can latch onto her mother’s neck from behind. Paige takes the opportunity to climb out of the car so she can grab Stephie’s sports bag from where it’s kept in the trunk.

“You be good for Miss Buecks and Uncle Twin at camp today okay?” Azzi whispers to the little girl, “and I better hear that you made all your shots.”

Stephie scoffs, “you know I never miss Mama.”

“That’s my girl,” Azzi grins as she nuzzles her nose against the little girl’s before Paige opens the backdoor and Stephie unlatches herself from her mother, only so she can go barrelling into the older woman’s arms instead, “Stephie-bean you know you can walk.”

“But Mama,” Stephie whines, wrapping her hands tightly around Paige’s neck, “I’m too tired to walk-”

“Stephie,” Azzi sighs. 

“You don’t mind carrying me, do you Miss Buecks?”

“Of course not,” Paige grins, “whatever you want sweetheart.”

Stephie looks pointedly at Azzi, “see Mama? Miss Buecks doesn’t mind.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Azzi shakes her head, “alright off you two go. I’ll see you guys in a bit.”

“Bye Mama,” Stephie waves, “hurry back okay? We’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you guys too,” Azzi says warmly, blowing a kiss at both of them. 

It’s uncanny how similar the two of them are, when both Stephie and Paige make a show of catching the kiss and bringing it to their heart before looking at each other and giggling over their own silliness. It makes Azzi’s heartache in the best way possible. And as she watches the two of them start walking up the stairs, Stephie rambling and Paige hanging onto every word, she thinks that as long as life gives her the two of them, she’ll never ask for anything else. 

***

The first thing Azzi notices when she walks into the gym, arriving a little before camp finishes so she can say hi to her mentor, is Stephie sulking as she glares at Paige from the other side of the court. Confused, because it’s rare to see her daughter looking at the other woman with anything but pure adulation, Azzi follows the little girl’s line of sight to see what could possibly have upset her. A fond smile crosses her face as she sees Paige crowded by a bunch of children, all of them watching the superstar with wonder as she demonstrates her shooting technique. Paige swishes the ball into the basket and one would think she’d just scored the game-winning shot in the finals, by the way the gaggle of kids around her let out enthused cheers. 

The blonde has always had this aura that draws people to her -Azzi would know; she’d been one of the first people to succumb to it (not that she’d put up much of a fight)- but there’s something different about the charisma Paige has with kids. Perhaps it’s because of her own childlike innocence that’s still intact despite her age, but it’s clear that the little ones adore her. Azzi watches as one of the little girls animatedly tries to mimic what Paige had just demonstrated, looking upset when the basketball barely touches the rim. 

“I’m never gonna make a basket,” she hears the girl pout. 

Paige ruffles the kid’s hair before lifting her up onto her lap, “of course you are. You just needed a little bit more height. Here try again,” she says as she urges the girl to shoot again now that she’s higher off the ground. This time the ball falls magnificently through the hoop and the child whoops. 

“OH MY GOD COACH P I DID IT,” she squeals, hiding her face in Paige’s neck and while Azzi finds the whole thing quite adorable, when she looks over, she realizes that clearly Stephie is not nearly amused as she watches her daughter’s face transform into a scowl. 

“Riley and Ryan used to make the same face any time I gave another little girl too much of my time,” Azzi grins as Steph appears by her side, the former Warriors guard bumping her shoulder as a sign of greeting, “I split the kids into groups, half with Paige and half with me. Kept Stephie with me cause you know I thought I was her favorite but she’s been glaring at all the kids with Paige this whole time.”

“She’s uh- she’s a little possessive,” Azzi chuckles, eyes still on her daughter who finally looks away from Paige, before angrily shooting the ball at the lowered basket in front of her. 

“NICE SHOT TWIN NIECE,” Steph cheers as Stephie makes the shot, the little girl’s face unmoving as she gathers the ball back and gets ready to shoot again. Sometimes Azzi thinks, as she claps with pride, her daughter’s laser-focus attitude might rival her own. Maybe it’s a mother’s bias -she’d call it intuition- but she’s certain Stephie’s going to be a basketball phenomenon one day. 

“That was so pretty Stephie-bean,” Paige is beaming as she approaches Stephie, the little girl from before holding her hand, “you think you can show Claudia here how you get that arc on it?”

“No thank you Coach Bueckers,” Stephie’s voice is perfectly polite as she makes a point to not look at the two people who’ve just entered her space, but Azzi catches the split second when her gaze shifts irritatedly to the way Claudia’s hanging off of Paige, “I’m a little busy right now. Maybe another time.”

“Oh she’s good,” Steph whistles lowly as Paige’s mouth falls open at not being referred to as Miss Buecks, “she’s gonna have Paige groveling after camp I bet. She’s gonna get whatever treat she wants.” 

Azzi groans, “that is not a good thing. Do you know how much junk food she manipulates Paige into getting her?”

Steph laughs, “she spoils her huh?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Azzi mutters but there’s a wistful grin on her face, “It’s part of why Stephie adores her so much cause she knows Paige would give her the world if she could.”

“I don’t think it’s just Stephie who adores her,” Steph bumps his shoulder against her and Azzi blanches at the knowing tone in his voice. 

“That’s not- I mean- I don’t- I don’t know what you mean,” she stutters out. 

Steph rolls his eyes goodnaturedly, “oh come off it Az. It was obvious when y’all were kids and it’s still obvious now.”

“When we were- you knew?” 

“Of course I knew,” Steph scoffs, “I’ve been married for more than 20 years to the same girl I fell in love with at 15 years old Az, I know a thing or two about what love looks like. Of course I knew.”

“I’m just getting clocked left right and center today what the hell,” she grumbles but there’s a part of her that’s slightly relieved about the people around them slowly figuring it out. She thinks she should maybe be a little more embarrassed about how obvious they apparently are -have supposedly always been- but honestly she kind of loves that their love is so bright, that it’s impossible to not see it. 

Love. The word sends a shiver through Azzi. It’s not a foreign feeling to her at all, especially not when it comes to Paige. If she’s honest with herself, it’s a feeling that has never left. She’d tried as hard as she could; shoving it underneath a rock of you’re not allowed to feel this way that weighed heavily against her chest. But it had always been there and as soon as Paige had waltzed her way back into Azzi’s life, the blonde seemed to have found a way to shovel it right back out. And that four-letter-word isn’t buried anymore; it’s right there on the tip of her tongue and every time Paige smiles at her -eyes crinkling with only for you-, Azzi’s this close to let it slip through her lips. She’s just waiting for the right time.

“Hey Stephie-bean can I fix your form a little bit,” her attention is drawn back to her surroundings as she watches Paige try to get Stephie to look at her again but her daughter is nothing if not stubborn. 

“That’s okay. It’s almost time to go home and I’m sure Uncle Twin can help me with my form Coach Bueckers,” the little girl says contemptuously to a gobsmacked Paige before gesturing at Claudia, “how about you just keep helping her instead.”

“Sheesh that’s one petty kid you’ve got there Fudd,” Steph remarks before stepping to the front of the court and blowing his whistle, “alright y’all it’s 5 o’clock. Great job today! I hope you guys had a lot of fun and learned some good stuff and I’ll see y’all back here tomorrow!”

The former player diligently high-fives all the kids before they disperse towards their awaiting parents. Azzi can tell Stephie’s still irritated when the little girl barely hugs Steph, shaking herself out of her Uncle’s arms much quicker than she normally would as she all but stomps her way to her mother. 

“Woah there Stephie-bean,” Azzi says gently, falling to her knees in front of her daughter, “what’s wrong?”

Stephie pouts miserably, “I’m mad at Miss Buecks. She’s been helping other kids this whole time.”

Azzi has to bite her lip to keep herself from smiling, amused by the child’s dramatics, “baby you know that’s Miss Buecks’s job right? She’s here to coach all the kids.”

If possible, Stephie’s frown deepens as she kicks her feet stubbornly, “she can coach them,” she says matter-of-factly, “but why does she have to carry them and give them hugs. She should only do that with me.”

“Stephie-”

“And camp is over now and she’s still with stupid Claudia,” Stephie whines as she uses her hand to turn Azzi’s face towards Paige, “see?”

The we don’t call people stupid lesson that she was just about to give her daughter dies on Azzi’s lips as her eyes fixate on where a stupid pretty young woman who she knows to be Claudia’s mother is staring up at Paige with a stupid flirty smile. Azzi has no idea what the blonde is saying, but she’s sure it can’t be that funny to make the woman tilt her head back in laughter, left hand reaching out to flick Paige’s bicep and lingering far longer than necessary. 

“You know what Stephie-bean I think it’s time to home,” and really she feels just a little guilty with how she’s about to use her clearly upset daughter, “how about you go call Miss Buecks over.”

That’s all it takes to get Stephie running towards her and Azzi follows cautiously behind, only getting further irritated at how Claudia’s mother seems determined to step closer and closer to Paige and the clueless blonde does absolutely nothing to stop it, continuing to smile politely at the other woman. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie comes to a halt in front of Paige, interrupting whatever conversation was going on as she practically forces herself in between the two women, “Mama says it’s time to go home.”

Despite the jealousy simmering her heart, Azzi can’t help that her heart skips a beat at the way Paige’s whole face brightens up at seeing Stephie; clearly relieved at the little girl using her nickname again. 

“Give me one second sweetheart. I’m just a little busy talking to Claudia and her mother-”

“Mama,” Stephie says loudly, cutting Paige off as she turns to Azzi, “do you know if Aunty Chérie is in town?”

“Um- I- uh-” the brunette stutters, not having expected her little girl to bring that up as her gaze flickers towards a frozen Paige whose smile is completely gone, her body going rigid at the mention of Clémence.

“I was just thinking,” Stephie barrels on casually, “maybe we could go see her and she could give me cuddles and kisses since app-ently Miss Buecks is too busy to give them to me-”

The little girl cuts herself off with a squeal as she’s suddenly lifted off the ground and into Paige’s arms; the blonde peppering her lips against every inch of Stephie’s face. 

“Never ever too busy for you and I’m especially never too busy to give you kisses Stephie-bean.”

“Promise,” Stephie holds out her pinky finger and Paige diligently intertwines her own through it, pressing a kiss to their now interlocked pinkies. 

“Promise.”

Shaking her head fondly at her menace daughter’s antiques, Azzi fixes Claudia’s mother with a sweetly saccharine smile as she wraps a possessive hand around Paige’s bicep. She can feel the blonde’s eyes immediately drift towards her, clearly a little thrown off by her forwardness. It had been Azzi’s go-to-move in college whenever Paige’s fanclub would get a little too handsy. She’d sidle up into her girlfriend’s space, marking her territory as subtly as possible. Azzi knows this is a little different. It had been easier back then to play the action off as a protective best friend  warding off boundary-less fans; really it was uncanny the things two girls could get away with under the guise of friendship. But it’s different now that they’re actual adults and she can see the clogs running Claudia’s mother’s head as she starts to piece everything together. 

“Hi I don’t think we’ve properly met. I’m Stephie’s mom, Azzi, nice to meet you,” Azzi says finally, holding out her hand that isn’t still clasped firmly around Paige’s bicep, “I think it’s usually your husband who picks Claudia up from camp right?”

“I’m Stacie,” the woman says, primly returning the handshake, “yeah my husband’s usually the one who picks her up but I had a little time today-”

“Don’t lie Mommy. I heard you on the phone saying you wanted to come pick me up so you could meet Coach Bueckers-”

“Claudia,” Stacie hisses as Azzi narrows her eyes at the woman. 

“You said it’s cause you think she’s really hot-” Claudia manages to get out before her mother furiously clamps her hand over her mouth. 

“Azzi,” Paige whispers under her breath, wincing slightly as the shooting guard unconsciously tightens her grip, unable to keep the irritation of her face as she all but glares at Claudia’s mother. 

“You know kids, they say anything,” Stacie tries to justify, cowering under the sintering heat of Azzi’s stare. 

“Right,” the brunette nods with faux understanding, “well if you’ll excuse us, I think it’s time for us to go unless-” she turns her gaze onto Paige who looks innocently back at her as she hides a smile against Stephie’s stomach, “unless you’re still busy that is?”

Paige shakes her head affectionately as she tugs her arm out of Azzi’s grip, only so she can lock their pinkies together, the angle of it just out of Stephie’s line of sight, “never too busy for you,” she repeats, “let’s go.”

*** 

“Mama, will you tell Miss Buecks that I’m not speaking to her,” Stephie says as soon as the three of them get settled into the car. 

“What,” Paige shrieks, twisting her head around to look at the little girl who decisively looks away, her tiny hands crossed over her chest. 

“Stephie,” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, stretching her legs out in the passenger seat; Paige had insisted on driving this time and she hadn’t bothered fighting against it, “babes I thought you’d gotten over it? You were literally just talking to her.”

“That’s cause I forgot I was mad when Miss Buecks gave me my kisses but I rem-ber now,” Stephie explains. 

“Remember what?” Paige asks frantically, “Stephie-bean what did I do?”

The little girl in question makes it a point to turn her nose up and look directly at Azzi as she answers, “Mama will you tell Miss Buecks that she knows what she did.”

“I really, really don’t. Stephie sweetheart please tell me so I can fix it,” Paige tries again, and Azzi lets herself marvel at how the normally jittery-woman seems to have endless patience for her little girl. 

“YOU GAVE THE OTHER KIDS HIGH FIVES AND CUDDLES AND HUGS AND YOU EVEN LET CLAUDIA ONTO YOUR LAP,” Stephie bursts out emphatically, “you’re not supposed to do that with anyone but ME.”

“I-” Paige looks over helplessly at Azzi who holds her hands up in surrender, determined not to get in between the two of them and their dramatics. 

“You didn’t even ask Uncle Twin to let me be on your team,” Stephie accuses and then like she’s suddenly remembered that she’d made a bold assertion a couple of minutes ago, “Mama could you please tell Miss Buecks that I said all of that.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, “I have a feeling she might have heard you.”

“Did you like the other kid’s hugs more than you like mine?” the little girl prods, her eyes suddenly glimmering with tears. 

“Oh sweetheart of course not,” Paige consoles immediately, “I could never like anyone’s hugs more than yours, you know that. Your hugs are the best things in the whole wide world. And Stephie-bean, I thought you wanted to be with Uncle Twin, you said you missed him.”

“Wanted to be with you more,” Stephie pouts stubbornly, “I don’t wanna share my Miss Buecks with the other kids. I don’t want you to hug them or carry them and you definitely can’t give them kisses.”

“I didn’t even give any of them kisses,” Paige protests. 

“Stephie, Miss Buecks is a person, not an object. She’s allowed to hug or carry or kiss-” Azzi tries to explain but is almost immediately interrupted by Stephie who gives her an unamused look. 

“Well is she allowed to hug and carry and kiss Claudia’s Mama then?”

Azzi’s mouth falls open as Paige barely holds in her chuckle at the little girl’s cheeky question, “she absolutely is not allowed to do that.”

“Exactly,” there’s a satisfied grin on Stephie's face as she takes in the still dumbfounded expression on her mother’s face. 

“I just- I meant the kids. She’s allowed to hug or carry or kiss the kids-”

“NO SHE’S NOT.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Paige moves her hands up and down in a calming gesture before she reaches for Stephie hands, “how about this? From now on, I won’t carry any of the other kids and I definitely won’t give them any kisses. But can I at least give them one hug? Just one tiny little hug?”

Stephie ponders over the request for a second, “okay,” she agrees finally, “but only one hug and it can’t be longer than three seconds okay? And then you come and give me three of them right after?”

“Done. I’ll come give you five hugs right after,” Paige grins happily as the two of them shake on it before she turns back around to start driving them towards her house.  

“Mama you can tell Miss Buecks that I’m speaking to her again,” Stephie smiles toothily at Azzi through the rearview mirror. 

“Really?” Azzi responds sarcastically, “I couldn't have guessed.”

“You know,” Paige drops her voice so Stephie can’t hear them, “you’re being pretty sassy for someone who was just as irrationally jealous as a five year old a couple of minutes ago.”

“I was not jealous,” Azzi says indignantly, repeating herself when Paige’s smirk deepens, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Paige, I was absolutely not jealous.”

“Whatever you say baby,” Paige hums quietly as she turns the music up in the car, grinning at Stephie through the mirror when one of their new favorites comes on. 

Azzi preemptively covers her ears as her soft “oh please don’t start singing-” is immediately drowned out by the two other people in the car beginning to sing at the top of their voices. They barely know the lyrics and they’re definitely not on key and really Azzi’s poor ears are bleeding, but as she’s coerced into reluctantly joining in, she thinks this could still be her favorite sound in the whole wide world. 

They’re so enthralled in their cacophony -in each other- as they pull up to Paige’s house, that it takes them a far longer than it should to notice the figure on her porch. It isn’t until they’ve parked in the driveway, and Azzi’s gone around to grab her and Stephie’s overnight bag from the back while Paige lifts Stephie onto her shoulders, and they’re finally making their way up the three steps that lead to the deck, that they finally do. 

All chatter comes to a halt as the boy -well that’s not quite right; not when he towers over Paige and Azzi as he stands up from where he’d been sitting on the lawn chair. It’s been almost four years since she’d last seen him in person and even then he’d been a fleeting face in the crowd. She’s seen plenty of his clips from the rookie year he’d just finished in the NBA but it isn’t the same as seeing him in the flesh now. So much has changed; the baby fat is gone from his face, he’s lankier and longer and there’s a discernible aura of confidence around him; as is expected from a 20 year old man. Yet, as Azzi lets her gaze wander over him, she sees what she’s always seen. She sees that same innocence, that same kindness, that same drive in his eyes that she’d always found reflected in his sister’s eyes too. She looks at him and she still sees a mini version of her Paige. 

*** 

October 2022 

“AZZI,” Drew screams as he runs across the arrival gate, his carry-on suitcase practically abandoned for the flight attendant with him to begrudgingly pick up. 

“DREW,” Azzi’s smile widens as the little boy comes to a halt in front of her, his arms immediately wrapping around her waist, “oh my god you’ve gotten so much bigger little dude.”

Drew scrunches his nose up at her, “you literally saw me like a month ago.”

“And I think you might have doubled in size since,” she ruffles his hair before turning to the flight attendant who’s not so subtly checking her out, “thank you so much for getting him here safely.”

“Oh just doing my duty m’am, especially for a pretty lady like you,” the man says and Azzi winces at his dated flirting technique. 

“This is Azzi,” Drew introduces, irritation seeping into his voice as he tightens his grip on Azzi’s waist, “you know how I told you I’m flying out for my sister’s birthday, this is my sister’s girlfriend and it was her idea to fly me out to surprise my sister. Because you know she’s her girlfriend.”

“Right,” the man grimaces and Azzi has to bite back the laugh threatening to escape as he hastily hands Drew’s suitcase over before barely managing a half-hearted grin, “I um- uh- well I should get back to the uh- plane or something. Tell your- tell your sister happy birthday.”

“Thanks again,” Azzi calls after the man as he all but runs away from them, shaking her head fondly down at Drew who’s giggling into her side. 

“You think if I tell Paige he flirted with you, she’d get him fired?” he asks cheekily. 

“There’s a nonzero chance that she’d at least try,” Azzi agrees as the two of them start making their way out of the airport and towards her car. 

It’s a chilly fall morning and the sun has barely risen in the sky but Drew seems more awake than ever as he practically bounces into the passenger seat, clearly excited to see his sister who has no inkling that he’s coming. The idea had come to Azzi a week or so ago as she’d racked her head for ideas of what to do for Paige for her birthday. She’d done a good job putting up a front for the rest of their team -avidly cheering for them from the sidelines during practice- but Paige had been struggling these last couple of weeks. Azzi knows firsthand what it’s like to watch everyone else play the sport she loves while nursing her own injury and no matter how many i’m fine don’t worry about me spiels she got from her girlfriend, Azzi knew it was killing the point guard to not be out there with their team. 

If she could, Azzi would have liked to have miraculously fixed Paige’s torn ACL as her birthday gift but that was wishful thinking. So instead she’d decided on cheering Paige up with the other thing she loved more than playing basketball: spending time with her baby brother. It didn't take that much convincing to get Bob Bueckers -who’d seen just how despondent his daughter had been those first couple of weeks in that gloomy hotel- to allow Drew to take the first half of this week off of school. From then on, the main difficulty had been keeping it a secret from Paige who seemed to have sixth sense for when something was going on behind her back. It didn’t help that Drew had come close to spilling the beans more than a handful of times. But they’d somehow managed it and this morning, Azzi had rolled out of her girlfriend’s arms much earlier than she would have liked to, ready to give Paige the day she deserved. 

She glances at the clock. It’s almost 8 and Azzi knows that Paige is probably beginning to stir awake. She can almost picture the likely confusion on her girlfriend’s as she’d reach out for Azzi, only to find the spot next to her empty. As if on cue, the sound of a phone ringing vibrates around the car and Drew’s eyes light up at Paige’s name flashing on the media-board. 

“Don’t say a word,” Azzi warns him as she picks up the call. 

“WHAT THE HELL AZZI. WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?” Paige’s irritated voice echoes throughout the car, “DO YOU KNOW HOW RUDE IT IS TO MAKE YOUR GIRLFRIEND WAKE UP ALONE IN THE MORNING? ON HER GODDAMN BIRTHDAY?”

Despite Azzi’s warning, Drew snickers loud enough for the speakers to pick it up  and the brunette fights the urge to hit her head against the steering wheel when Paige lets out a dramatic gasp. 

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU WITH ANOTHER GIRL. ON MY BIRTHDAY?”

“No Paige I am not with another girl-”

“Well it sounds like there’s a girl with you.”

Drew opens his mouth to protest, clearly agitated with his voice potentially being mistaken for a girl’s but Azzi’s quicker, immediately clamping a hand over his mouth. 

“I am not with-”

“Wait. Why did that voice sound so familiar?” Paige asks and Azzi can picture her scrunching her nose through the phone, “it can’t be any of the girls. I think I saw all of them in their apartments while I was looking for you but it sounds so-”

“It’s no one,” Azzi says hurriedly, “I’m just picking up something for your birthday.”

“I don’t want anything for my birthday,” Paige grumbles, “just wanted to wake up to my beautiful gorgeous girlfriend but no, you couldn’t just let me have that.”

A soft blush, tinted with hues of you make my imperfection feel perfect, creeps up Azzi’s cheeks as Drew teasingly waggles his eyebrows at her, “I promise I have something even better for you.”

“What could possibly be better than morning se-”

“Celebratory cuddles. Right yes what could be better than morning celebratory cuddles,” Azzi babbles, ignoring the weird look Drew gives her as she tries to prevent them from falling in the ditch her girlfriend is unknowingly about throw them into, “oh my won’t you look at that, that sign has all the reasons I shouldn’t try to talk and drive.”

“Baby what? Are you having a stroke. That’s not a thing-

“Oh it totally is and I really have to hang up. Love you baby, see you soon!’

“Azzi-” a loud beep rings through Paige’s protests as Azzi rushes to cut the call, slumping back in her seat with a sigh. 

“Morning celebratory cuddles?” if she wasn’t so embarrassed she would laugh at the side-eye Drew shoots her, “y’all are so weird.”

“Watch it. I will send you back to Minnesota.”

“No you won't,” it’s uncanny how Drew has Paige’s exact smile as he goofily grins at her, “you love Paigey way too much to do that to me.”

Azzi rolls her eyes fondly, “yeah maybe just a little bit.” 

There’s peaceful silence in the car for a while as Drew leans back in his seat, looking thoughtfully out the window. Azzi feels excitement bubble in her stomach in anticipation for Paige’s reaction to seeing her little brother. For as long as she’s known her girlfriend, she’s always known just how special Drew is to her; he’d been more a child to her than a brother and although it hasn’t been that long since Paige has seen him, Azzi could still hear the wistfulness in her voice every night she’d said good-bye to him on the phone. She feels giddy just knowing that seeing Drew again will put that earnest, loving smile she loves so much on Paige’s face. That smile, Azzi thinks, might just be the reason her world keeps turning. 

“Hey Azzi?” Drew says slowly, “can I ask you something?”

“Course you can kid. You can ask me whatever you want,” Azzi reaches out to squeeze the little boy’s hand as he fidgets in his seat. 

“Do you-” he hesitates, sucking in a deep breath, “do you think two people can stay together forever?”

Azzi’s taken aback by the gravity of the question, not having expected to deal with heavy-hitting ones like this so early in the morning. And really the truth is Azzi doesn’t know how to answer this question. It’s the kind of question her own brain conjures up sometimes and she has to distract herself from the way it makes her heart constrict because what if two people can’t stay together forever?

“That’s a heavy question,” she says finally, “where’s this coming from?”

Drew shrugs and his tone teeters on the edge of defensiveness when he answers, “just some things I think about sometimes.”

“I don’t know,” she says carefully, “I’d like to think some people can. I mean my parents have been together for a really long time and I’d like to think they’ll stay together forever.”

“How about you and Paigey?” Drew prods. 

There’s an answer of yes that tastes like asphalt on the top of Azzi’s tongue and so much of her wants to spit it out and have that be the answer she gives Drew. But there are these uneasy shackles of uncertainty, of what if’s, of who knows what the future could do to us, that stops her. And she doesn’t know why she’s so scared of saying yes. Because if she’s honest with herself Azzi can’t really fathom a forever without her girlfriend; not when sometimes it feels like instead of a heart, it’s Paige that beats rhythmically against her ribcage. 

“I really, really hope so,” she whispers. 

“Azzi,” Drew’s voice is coated in sincerity and the brunette hums in response, “you won’t ever hurt my Paigey will you?”

And there it is again, the unpredictability of what could happen next that’s beginning to feel a little suffocating. She wants to give Drew a resounding no because Azzi would rather drive a dagger through her skin before letting Paige get so much as a paper cut but life is so fickle and she’s scared of making a promise she can’t keep. So she makes one that she swears she can. 

“I promise that I will try my absolute best not to hurt your Paigey.”

***

May 2033 

“Well,” Drew Bueckers sneers, his tone filled with contempt as he takes in the way Paige, Azzi and Stephie are practically wrapped into each other, don’t you guys just look so fucking cozy.”

There’s a sinister tension-filled quiet as the three adults -god it’s weird to include Drew as an adult but Azzi supposes that that’s what he is now- look between each other. 

“Umm you owe me a kiss,” Stephie cuts into the silence.

“What?” Drew scrunches his face at the little girl. 

“You said a bad word,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “and Mama says whenever someone says a bad word around me, they have to give me a kiss. So Miss Buecks,” Drew's eyes narrow at the nickname as the little girl lightly taps Paige’s shoulder, “can you turn around and move closer so he can give me a kiss?”

“You don’t, you don’t have to do that-” Azzi tries to intervene. 

“Yes he does Mama,” Stephie interupts her indignantly, “rules are rules right?’

“Stephie-”

“Rules are rules,” it’s Drew who cuts Azzi off this time, his previously stoic face morphing into something warmer as he takes a step closer to her daughter and presses his lips against her turned cheek, “there you go. Am I forgiven for saying a bad word now?”

Stephie grins up at him and Azzi feels a wave of this is how it always should have been pinching at her heart she watches the two of them. 

“You’re forgiven but you have to promise not to do it again.”

“I don’t make promises like that kid,” there’s an unspoken accusation as Drew keeps up a smile towards Stephie but his eyes dart for the briefest second towards the two women around him, “but I promise I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Stephie accepts happily as she reaches over Paige’s shoulder to press her own lips against Drew’s cheek. 

“What was that for?’ he asks a little dazedly. 

Stephie shrugs, “because I think I’m gonna like you.”

“Drew,” Paige whispers finally, gently letting the little girl off of her shoulders, “what are you- what are you doing here?”

“What? A guy can’t just come visit his sister anymore?” there’s an unfamiliar hard edge to Drew’s voice -a stark contrast from how he’d been with Stephie- that makes Azzi flinch. 

“Of course he can but I just- you didn’t- you didn’t tell me you were coming,” Paige presses. 

“Well we've been talking about me coming down for a while but it just hasn’t happened and so I thought- I thought why not just come surprise you but-” Drew purses his lips as he gestures to the trio in front of him, “I think I might be the one who’s surprised.”

“Drew-”

“Actually you know what no,” he clenches his jaw, voice dripping with barely controlled anger, “I’m actually not surprised. Not surprised at all. Because really this- this is exactly what I should have expected from the two of you.”

“Maybe,” Azzi nibbles at her bottom, “maybe we should go-’

“NO,” both Stephie and Paige yell out in tandem as the little girl immediately clutches onto the blonde’s thighs. 

“I don’t wanna go. Miss Buecks tell Mama I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re staying right here with me,” Paige reassures the little girl as she turns her gaze back to Azzi, “you’re not going anywhere okay?”

“Paige-”

“I asked you to stay tonight and you’re going to stay. End of discussion,” Paige says firmly and Azzi lets out a reluctant sight. 

“You asked her to stay? As in stay the night? Oh my god,” Drew scoffs maliciously. 

“Drew,” there’s a warning tone in Paige’s voice as she deattaches herself from Stephie, keeping her voice low, “not right now okay?”

Her brother rolls his eyes, grunting out a “whatever,” but listening to his older sister like he always had and suddenly Azzi feels nostalgic for the little boy she had once known. 

“You’re so tall,” she blurts out, grimacing slightly when he turns to her with a frown. 

“Excuse me?”

“I mean I knew that. I’ve seen some of your highlights and I knew I mean- I knew you were taller and that you’ve gotten bigger and that you’d look stronger and all of that but I just-” Azzi gulps between her babbling, “you just- you look different Drew.”

There’s a shine of warmth in Drew’s gaze for a second but it flickers away faster than it had appeared and his eyes are cold with flecks of betrayal as he looks at Azzi, “that’s what happens as people get older isn’t it? I wouldn’t look so different to you if you’d been around to see me grow up.”

There’s venom laced in every word and Paige immediately opens her mouth to argue with him, but Azzi wraps a hand around her wrist to stop her. Because even if the words seep into her skin and infect it with bruises of guilt and regret, Azzi thinks she probably deserves them. She’d been in Drew’s world for so long and then one day, she just hadn’t been. She thinks he probably could have spewed something even more poisonous and she just might have deserved that too. 

“Are you sleeping over too, Uncle Drew?” Stephie asks softly, unaffected by the tenseness of the adults around her. 

“Uncle Drew?” Drew asks slowly. 

Stephie nods with a grin, “Miss Buecks called you Drew and that’s when I figured it out. Mama and Miss Buecks have told me stories about you and there’s some pictures of you from when you were littler at Nana and Pop's house,” she rambles and Drew’s eyes soften at the idea of Stephie knowing of his existence, “ and just in case you don’t know who I am even though you should,” she gives him a pointed look as if everyone should know who the little girl is, “I’m Stephie. And you’re my Miss Buecks’s brother so that means you’re my Uncle Drew.”

“Right that um-” Drew clears his throats, “that makes sense Stephie.”

“So Uncle Drew, are you sleeping over too?”

“Yeah, yeah I guess I am.”

“YAY!” Stephie squeals as she laces her fingers through Drew and begins to pull him towards the front door, “so Uncle Drew what’s your favorite pizza topping?”

Something wonderful flutters in Azzi’s chest as she watches the two of them interact -it’s a little bit like seeing the past and present harmonically blend into one- but despite that, despite the reassurance that Paige squeezes against her hand, there’s an uneasiness lingering in the back of her mind. That wretched but familiar fear of the future weaves itself through her heart. Between the frostiness from Drew and whatever secret Paige is keeping from her, Azzi can’t help but wonder if these last couple of weeks had simply been a mirage. She can’t help but wonder if this bubble of happiness that they’ve built is about to be burst by a needle of circumstance again. 

[envy-of-the-apple]

Keep Your Head In The Game

Yandere! Victoria Neuman x reader

(Warnings: threats of murder, non con touching/kissing, implied captivity)

Working at the Bureau had been your dream job. 

Vought had ruined so many people’s lives. It felt good to be part of something that stood against that company for those who couldn't. Despite not having powers, even you could be a hero. You'd worked under Victoria Neuman for years. You knew everything about her. 

And then Hughie Campbell ruined everything. 

You’d like to think of him as a friend. You and him had lunch together sometimes. You’d sit and smile as he went on and on about his girlfriend. He was a nice guy. You’d like to think that he and you were close. 

But Hughie broke you.  

Evidence. He’d shown you evidence of what she’d done. So much blood. So much gore. The orphanage, the files. 

“She’s one of them,” he’d whispered right before he fled into the night, “stay away from her. Quit. Please, for your sake, don’t go back to that fucking snake den.” 

And then he was gone. Just like that. 

Work in the Bureau continued as normal. Safe for the rumors of Soldier boy sightings, everything was so…fine, even without him. 

Even Neuman was unphased. 

She still smiled and laughed and told jokes as she surrounded herself with regular humans. She curled her lip when Supes were discussed. You used to love it when she brought Zoe around, but even her daughter you couldn’t even trust to be real. 

Victoria didn’t act like a Supe. 

But Hughie wasn't lying. 

Friday night. The bureau had a party going on tonight. Another Supe had been successfully put away. Those were always a sight, especially considering Gina would get shitfaced. You couldn’t go, feigning illness before you slipped out the night. You couldn’t enjoy yourself, not when you had so much to think about. 

Instead of enjoying the night with coworkers, you found comfort in the hardest liquor in your cabinet. Your one true friend. 

Not Hughie. Not anymore. Hughie left. Or maybe he was killed. Who knows. Who fucking cares. 

There’s a knock on your door. When you ignore it, it comes again louder. You groan, but you pull yourself off the couch eventually. Your neighbor again. You need to have a talk with her about disturbing you at odd hours of the night. 

“You look like you’ve seen better days.”

You can only stare. Victoria tilts her head. 

“Gonna let me in or will I have to stand out here?” 

Against your judgment, the instinct of always listening to your boss kicking in, you open the door. She elegantly steps in, surveying your home. 

She’s wearing that blue suit you’ve always complimented her on. Earlier, you would have admired her professional elegance. Now, it makes her look more inhuman. She looks even more out of place in your shabby apartment, studying your upkeep. 

“Sorry,” you say when you stop gawking, “I…I hadn’t had time to clean up.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Victoria waves you off. “Just checking in on my favorite employee. How’re you feeling, by the way.” 

“Good.” You quickly reply. “I was just feeling a little under the weather earlier. I hope I didn't worry you." 

"Why wouldn't I be worried?" She tilts her head, grinning with straight white teeth that get increasingly eerie the longer you stare. "We're friends, aren't we?" 

Before, you wouldn't have blinked twice at her words and tone. You would have mindlessly agreed, smiled even. But things were different now. You were playing pretend with a known murderer. 

If you close your eyes, you can still remember the faces in that court before their heads exploded. You'd been behind a screen, watching it all in horror and you remembered closing your eyes and begging for Victoria to be alright, praying that it would be okay if everyone died but her. 

And now to realize she caused all that? 

"Maybe you have a fever. You're shaking." 

You were. You clasp your trembling hands together, trying to ease your nerves. 

"Yeah." Even your voice was wavering. Calm down. Calm down. "I still might not be over...whatever I came down with."

The predator clicks her tongue in sympathy, cooing as she nears her prey. You force yourself not to stiffen when she wraps a sturdy hand around your shoulders, leading you over to the couch. You sit next to her with your thigh pressed up against hers. You feel like you're about to vomit. 

"You should rest," Victoria says, "take a few days off work. I'll let everyone know." 

"Yeah," you say because this is good, it'll help you focus on what you need to do next, "definitely, thank you." 

"Oh, please, don't thank me." She laughs. "I'm glad you're not in the office because you're sick. For some reason, I thought you were avoiding me. Y'know, 'cause you were scared, I would pop your head." 

One second. Two seconds. And then you're up, scrambling off the sofa. It's instinct to run from monsters, no matter if they would take your head off your shoulders on a whim, whenever they want. It's instinct to be stupid and careless and run. 

If anything, you should be grateful this monster is her. 

She's strong, like all Supes are. Even though you know what she is, it takes you a moment to realize it's Victoria who had pinned you against the couch, keeping you underneath her. You used to win arm-wrestling competitions against her. The pressure caused your lungs to tighten, making it hard to breathe. Even has you struggled, tried to claw at her hands, tug on her pristine clothes, she didn't budge. You think the worst thing about all of this was that it didn't even look like it took much effort to keep you down. Like she was wrestling a kitten. 

"Easy, easy." She hushes, tone soft and condescending. "C'mon, we're both adults, aren't we? Let's be civil here." 

Civil. Like she had any right to use that word after what she's done for months, perhaps all her life. Your heart is a hummingbird frazzled with fear, but you can feel that twinge of anger and resentment even then. Something else too: betrayal. 

"Why?" You asked, your voice failing. "Why, Vicky?" 

For the first time tonight, her mask cracks. Her eyes flicker, looking at your defeated body before coming back up to your face. She looks remorseful, but not guilty. 

"I didn't....I didn't want you to find out this way." She admits, slightly easing off you, enough to ease the force in your lungs. "Or maybe ever, actually. Fucking Cambell, leaving a mess, and then running off. What else can you expect from that guy, right?" 

You just stare. Victoria sighs. 

“Of all people, I thought you would understand.” Her voice wavers. “I thought you’d get it, somehow.” 

You look at her, and you feel like you’re staring at that girl from Red River. Scared and Trembling Nadia, who just wanted love, someone to lean on. Someone who wasn't scared of her. 

Then it flickers, and then Victoria's back. 

"You murdered a whole room." You finally say. "How could you possibly ask me to understand that?" 

She glowers, her frown deepens, and then she's sitting up, getting off you. You learn your lesson from last time, but you still huddle in the corner of the sofa, watching her. 

"Right, because I'm supposed to believe you feel bad for them." Victoria rolls her eyes. "Half of those guys vacationed on Epstein's island before the brand change, and you were there when those deep fakes came out. Remember Congressmen Davis? He kept staring at your ass on the House Floor, so I'm not sure why you're acting like they're suddenly men of valor." 

"Yes, yes, yes, they were terrible people." You press your hand to your forehead. "But you-we-we can't kill people. We-we're supposed to do things the right way and I just-" You choke on your words. 

"Hughie got to you," she notes, "I knew I shouldn't have paired you up with each other." 

"You lied to me." You murmur. There's no anger anymore, just heartbreak. "You lied to everyone. I thought we were fighting against Vought, but we've been in their pocket this whole time." 

"We're still fighting-" 

"You're Stan Edgar's daughter. We're in their pocket."

You press your hands to your face, squeezing. All the while you can feel Victoria watching. You ignore her. There's no point in talking to her, not anymore. You might not have known Victoria, but you know the Supe that committed a massacre. Her cover was blown. You were a leaking faucet she needed to turn off. 

"What now?" You ask, drawing up to look at her. "Are you going to kill me?" 

Her mouth twitches. Her eyes flicker with realization. A soft coo comes from her lips, utterly condescending. Suddenly, her posture changes: less intimidating, more welcoming. 

"Oh, sweetie, is that why you're so upset?" She shifts until you're trapped in her arms. You don't bother fighting. Your bravery has run out. Tears are already dripping down your cheeks. "You thought I was gonna...." There's a laugh spilling off her lips. You squeeze your eyes shut when she hugs you tighter. 

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Victoria says, a smile in her voice. "Not to you. Never to you." 

Her hands are so warm as she cradles your face, forcing you to look at her. It's a gentle type of cruelty, forcing you to face your fears while the monster gives you a beautiful smile. 

"I cherish you too much to do that." 

You must look so lost. She laughs even more at that. 

"Seriously? It wasn't obvious? C'mon, Zoe is crazy about you, she never shuts up. And I...I think it's better if I just..." 

Her lips are soft. Gentle. You don't kiss back. You can't. You're frozen in ice. 

"I won't hurt you." Then, her tone tightens just the tiniest bit. "You're friends and family, on the other hand..."

When she pulls away, she's the most relaxed you've ever seen her. You wish you could say the same. While her smile grows larger, so does the gaping hole in your stomach. 

You close your eyes, slumping in defeat.

"What do you want?" You plead. 

You can feel her lips press on your cheek. Victory.

When you walk through the door, Zoe looks elated. 

She calls your name with a delighted giggle, reaching out to hug you. You wish you could return her enthusiasm, but you can barely pat her head. 

"What're you doing here?" She asks when she's done hugging you, looking up at you with pretty eyes. Her eyes are much like her mother's; they just haven't lost their innocence yet. 

Neuman steps in, a strong hand on your shoulder. That same gentle smile that holds the comfort a mother has for her daughter. 

"Gas leak, right?" She turns to look at you. "Real nasty. So, I offered our home for a little while." 

Zoe nods. She's the only thing so far that's remained stagnant. Maybe that's why you're more than eager to listen to what she did at school that day. She rambles on and on, and there's nothing left to say anymore. Until Victoria sends her daughter to bed. 

"It's probably best to keep the real reason hush-hush," she tells you later, shutting the master bedroom. 

You're seated pliantly on the bed, watching her shrug off her cardigan. The mattress sinks underneath your weight. Silk covers. It's too big for just one person. 

You're not a captive, she explained in the back of her fancy black car. You could roam around, meet up with friends, call people, do whatever your heart desired. It would just be under her eyes from now on. 

"A safeguard." She charitably explained, perfectly manicured fingernails drumming on her thigh. "Just so you don't do something we both might regret." 

You don't know if she'd been telling the truth when she insisted your head was off-limits, but you knew she had your family's names and addresses. So you sat pliantly in that car, pliantly listened to Zoe, and pliantly followed Victoria into her bedroom. 

On paper, you weren't a captive. But you and Victoria both knew better. 

"Is Zoe also...?" You trail off, averting your eyes when she unbuttons her blouse. You can hear her clothes drop to the floor as she unabashedly rifles through her drawer. 

"No," Victoria answers. And then your heart drops when she adds. "Not yet." 

You shudder, but she's already sitting next to you. She coaxes you to look at her with a hand on your cheek. Even dressed down, she's gorgeous. Unblemished skin was barely covered by a silk gown. 

You think she looks just as upset as you. Maybe even more. She pets your cheek thoughtlessly. 

"When I brought you to my bed for the first time, I thought things would be different, somehow." She laughs. It sounds bitter. 

"I never wanted this. Not for us," Victoria says, "but-but there's nothing else I can do. It...." 

A tear drips down your face. She's pushing it away. 

'You'll be okay." A kiss to your temple. "I know you will." Lips at your cheek. 

When she finally gives into her inhibitions and kisses you, you know she was lying about it all. 

[maitanii]

ran haitani, my beloved

“I haven’t been honest with you.”

The parking lot was nearly empty, the only sound coming from their slow footsteps. As they approached his black bike, Ran came to an abrupt stop. Those words. They were never good in any context. But hearing them from her? They felt like a punch to the gut. Turning, he caught the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice steady but cautious.

She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself. “There’s something I’ve been lying about, and I think it’s time you knew the truth.”

Ran frowned. “Quit messing around.”

Her hesitation only made his nerves spike. “Do you remember our first date, when you told me about your favorite movie?”

“Yeah…” He drew the word out, his brow furrowing.

“Well, I lied when I said I liked it.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, processing. Then, the corner of his mouth twitched, and he let out a low chuckle. “Oh, babe…” His laughter grew, almost melodic, and she couldn’t help but feel a little lighter hearing it. “Is that what’s had you all wound up this afternoon?”

“Yes,” she admitted, biting her lip.

Ran shook his head, amused. “Well, can’t say I’m not hurt by that statement. But what can I say?” He stepped forward, wrapping his long arms around her shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’ve got amazing taste in men, but your taste in movies sucks.”

“Today’s movie sucked, Ran.”

He froze, pulling back slightly. “Wait.” His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I just… didn’t find it funny. The jokes were bad.”

“Okay, now you’re worrying me.”

“I’m sorry.” She slipped her helmet over her head, muffling the giggle threatening to escape. “I don’t even like the cast. That actor? He’s not charismatic. His entire shtick is picking a hot woman to play his wife and making that his personality.”

Ran let out a reluctant laugh, shaking his head as he fished his keys out of his pocket. “Fair enough,” he muttered, helping her onto the bike. Even though he wasn’t genuinely hurt, he was still a little surprised she’d brought this up now. As he settled into his seat, curiosity got the better of him.

“Why’d you lie to me back then? And why do you keep watching these movies if you don’t like them?”

She hesitated, then rested her hands lightly on his back. “Because you do, Ran. When you told me about that movie on our first date, you looked so excited. I didn’t have it in me to tell you how much I hate Adam Sandler’s acting.”

He reached for her hands, holding them against his chest as if to keep her close. “That’s sweet, babe. You’re way too nice to me.”

She smiled, relieved he wasn’t upset. “Maybe next time, we can watch one of my movies.”

“Sure,” he said easily. “As long as it’s not Twilight.”

“Oh, we’ll see,” she teased.

Ran groaned dramatically, revving the engine. “You know I’d give you the moon, but I’m not watching that.”

Her laugh rang out, even over the sound of the bike. “We’ll see.”

PS: I'm sorry girls, I don't like Adam Sandler movies. But do you know who does? My boyfriend.

When I first started talking to my boyfriend, he mentioned a movie I’d never seen. Instead of admitting it, I lied and said I loved it. Two years later, I finally confessed I hadn’t even heard of the movie until I met him. Now, nearly six years later, it’s still a running joke between us.

[paigebueckersmommy]

maybe not enemies pt.1 - p.b

paige bueckers x fem!roomate! reader

warnings: enemies to lovers, drinking, mean paige kinda?, 1st person

a/n: i am well aware the team rooms togther but act like they don’t for this fic 🥰 also i hate this with every bone in my body.

you and paige had met briefly a few times. all you knew was you two weren’t into the same things.

it was the start of my senior year of college, and i had always taken my academics seriously, but i needed to take them more serious this year, and geting roomed with the schools biggest party animal, caused problems.

i began unpacking the suit case on my bed, waiting for my roomate to arrive. they sent an email with dorm assignments, which your roomate obviously hadn’t seen.

when i heard the door open, i snapped head. “fuck.” you heard a attractive voice say, which you didn’t wanna admit was attractive. “i’m not happy about this either.” you say making eye contact with the blonde.

“how’d you know?” paige says setting stuff down on her bed, “they sent an email.” i say looking back at my stuff.

“well, the best way to handle being roomed with the most boring person on earth, is if we agree to not talk unless it’s needed.” paige said, with an look of annoyance on her face. “agreeed, just please don’t be loud.” you say rolling your eyes, “k.”

time skip to a couple months later

you could tell paige was a little confused by your style when she mostly only ever saw you wearing hoodies, sweatpants and leggings, but tonight was diffrent.

you were standing infront of the mirror on a saturday night, putting lipgloss on. wearing a mini skirt and a mesh long sleeve, a black lacey bra underneath.

“where you going? shouldn’t you be studying or sum shit.” paige said looking you up and down from her bed. “why would it matter to you? but for your infortntion i’m going to a bar with my friends.” i say, looking back at her.

“oh my god!!! she has friends everyone!!” paige says acting suprised, not very good acting. “just because i care about my academics more than you doesn’t make me a nerd.”

“oh please, admit you’re just stating and don’t have any friends.” paige says cocking her head, when jsut then you heard a knock on your door. you opened it, your friends head peaking thru the door. “you almost rea- hey. wanna come?” your friend says, making eye contact with paige mid sentence.

“oh? inviting me? fuck it, yea lemme get dressed.”

you step out of your dorm room, shocked by the interaction. “damn. she barley talks to me i don’t know why she’d wanna come out with-“ you stopped mid sentence when paige walked out of your dorm. she was wearing white pants and a pink crop top, you had only ever seen her wear basketball gear so you were a little shocked at this.

“mm.. she knows how to dress everyone.” you say matching paige’s pace in the hallway as two of your friends were a little in front of you.

“oh i know your not talking. this is the 3rd time ive ever seen you not wear a hoodie. probobly why you don’t have a boyfriend yet.”

“b-boyfriend? i’m sorry, what makes you think i like men?” you say crooking your head words paige, curious. “o-oh i’m sorry, i just-“

“your good. i get a lot that i look straight.. but im lesbian.” you say with a soft smile making eye contact with paige, as you realize she’s also smiling.

“hm. good to know.” paige says, looking your outfit up and down, and that’s whe your mind began spinning.

did i like paige? was she trying to tell me something? were we, not enemies?

you put those thoughts to the side as you reached the doors of the bar. it was a saturday night, so it was crowded but not as crowded as it is on fridays. you, paige and your two friends found spots at the bar, paige sitting next to you as she ordered a round of shots for you two without even asking what you wanted.

“oh? thank you? your not being mean to me for once?” you say out of confusion before downing the shot. “mmm. you don’t look half as bad tonight.”

“could say the same about you.”

pt 2 soon!!!

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

I’ve seen so many alive!DBD au’s where Edwin and Charles meet first, or Edwin and Niko/Charles and Crystal meet first, but I raise you: Rich Payne and Surname-Von Hoverkraft families meet first. They are industry RIVALS, okay? They DESPISE each other with a burning passion and trade thinly veiled insults back and forth at every event they meet.

(More under cut cause this shit is atrociously long.)

At first Edwin and Crystal ignore each other or send glares, following their parents lead, but then they get older and Crystal starts acting out to get her parents attention while Edwin starts distancing himself from his. Both of them get the idea of, “What if I get to know the Payne’s/Surname-Von Hoverkraft’s daughter/son? My parents would HATE that.” So a friendship is formed.

In the beginning it’s toxic bitch levels of fake on both their sides, good lord they can’t stand each other. One day Crystal’s drunk off her underage ass and just starts openly venting and Edwin — the always sober guy and no it’s not cause he cares that’s preposterous!! — meets her tit for tat. Because, c’mon. Of course they’d drop random trauma on each other like fun facts.

Anyways they’re proper friends now, still appear the same — arguing is their love language — but there’s a level of solidarity now. Insert Edwin getting sent off to St. Hilarion’s for another year — Crystal threatens him to write her back per usual — and his classmates pull the prank. Not sure what 73 years in hell would be here, I’ve seen so many interpretations but I think kidnapping and torture is accurate.

While that’s going on Crystal gets a new boyfriend at her school. Any guesses?? She writes Edwin about David and Edwin does not hold back, he’s part of the reason Crystal tries to break up — it doesn’t go well, not sure how yet — and she writes Edwin about what happened craving comfort. Usually postal’s pretty fast, they aren’t that far, but she doesn’t get a response one day in. Two. Three… She finds out her best friends been kidnapped AFTER a news article has been released.

Turns out her parents knew the entire time but neglected to tell her. Crystal stops speaking to them. It’s 73 days later before she gets anymore news outside of, “The Police Are Still Looking”, and it comes in the sign of a knock. She hadn’t got much sleep that night — didn’t most nights — so she’d been wandering around her kitchen aimlessly. (As you do.) When she heart a soft rap on her front door. Curious, and too tired to care about danger or consequence, she opens the door.

Crystal doesn’t recognize him at first, he’s shivering and there’s so much blood on his- his everywhere but then a very weak voice croaks, “Crystal.” She screams. And sobs. Because what else do you do when your friend had to escape himself after 73 days of captivity and torture and the first safe place he could think to go wasn’t the police, or hospital, but you? Her parents are awoken by her scream and come rushing down because what the fuck is going on? And it’s all a blur from there — she refuses to leave his side and Edwin clings to her like a limpet.

It takes awhile of recovery and physical therapy — and regular therapy — after that but Crystal is holding his hand nigh every session, she’s there to bring him books and bicker and provide a sense of normalcy. Crystal forgets David for awhile, the only one to occupy her thoughts being Edwin because she knows he’d do the exact same. The two also get the satisfaction of watching their parents actually try to be amiable after this, it’s so stilted and awkward and they revel in it. And, yes, the tabloids somehow get ahold of the fact that kidnapped Edwin Payne fought his way to the Surname-Von Hoverkraft’s doorstep instead of literally anywhere else. Rumors pop up about his and Crystal’s relationship and the two make a teir list of their favs and least favs. Secret love child/half-siblings is their favorite, secretly dating isn’t even on the board they hate it so much.

College!!! The two decide against anything super fancy. And by that I mean they move to America together to find some community college to go to because neither want to be reliant on their parents who took a whole ass kidnapping to pay attention to them. Anyways, they share a flat above Tongue & Tail butcher shop with Jenny as their landlord. Crystal works as a freelance artist and tarot card reader (She’s really good.) while Edwin works as the librarians — Maxine’s — assistant.

Charles and Niko meet differently, Niko’s actually advertising her need for a roommate and Charles — who also moved to America to get away from his dad — takes it up. Fast friends don’t have a thing on these two. Niko gushes about this pretty girl across from them and Charles is man enough to admit, yeah, their neighbors are pretty fine. Too bad they’re dating.

———

Anyways more highlights of this AU in no particular order:

Crystal and Edwin physically recoil when Niko says something like, “Wait, I thought you two were dating?” Edwin puts his hand to his heart, too stunned to speak. Crystal fake gags and goes, “Why does everyone think that?! HE’S GAY!!”

Edwin discovers his sexuality at one of the clubs Crystal drags him to when Thomas King — older then them by a few years — flirts with him and he Panics™️. Crystal drags him away with a scathing look toward Thomas and asks if Edwin’s okay. He blurts out, “I- I’m gay?!” and Crystal goes, “You didn’t know??!?”

David tracks Crystal down to America and it’s a whole thing for obvious reasons, also because she forgot to tell Edwin about it in full — too busy helping him. This is how Crystal’s abusive ex trauma gets aired. (Charles maybe reveals some shit about his dad here too.)

Edwin and Niko go on a little faux-date together — cafe, library, just a chill day and night out — but Edwin leaves his flip phone at home and Niko’s dies. (Yes he has a flip phone.💀💀) So Crystal’s panicked as shit, last time she couldn’t contact him he was literally KIDNAPPED and TORTURED. Charles tries to calm her down before simply offering to wait up with her. When Niko and Edwin get back Crystal breaks down like, “You can’t DO that!!” This is how Edwin’s kidnapping and torture trauma gets aired.

Charles has a near death experience at St. Hilarion’s a few days after Edwin’s kidnapping. Turns out they went at the same time but Charles was a year under him and they ran in very different social circles. He gets chucked into the freezing lake and stoned still but a teacher catches them all and sends him to the hospital.

Niko’s dad died and her mom sent her to America to get away from the sadness, she caught a really bad illness and also almost died. Charlotte Knight was her Nurse. (Unrelated but she has Poliosis, which turns parts of your hair white.)

Esther is a serial killer and uses her son, Monty, to lure people in. Very brain washed Monty here sorry guys. She kidnaps Edwin who has several trackers on him — after the Niko Night Out incident Crystal and Edwin spent a night sewing them into each others coats and shoes — and the police arrest Esther and Monty.

Payneland and Palasaki of course, but this would probably be focused on Edwin and Crystal’s friendship. Yes, Niko and Charles get a shovel talk. “You know I adore you Niko and whilst I do not think you’d intend any harm, I will have to do something drastic in the event that it happens.” “Okay listen here dipshit. I have full faith you won’t hurt Edwin but if you do, intentionally or not, I will have to castrate you.”

There’s more I forgot lmfao, this is too long already😭😭 If I made any spelling mistakes no I didn’t

[oncasette]

𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗦 (𝗦𝗢 𝗗𝗢 𝗜)

KINKTOBER ACT II, eric northman x fem!reader

summary: 2.7k

“You smell fucking amazing,” he groans and his teeth drag against your pulse point. Before you can make any sort of comment on that, you feel his teeth puncture into your skin just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt. His incredibly long and devastatingly thick fingers that are already stretching you out as they slowly thrust in.

or the one where eric has a specific taste for blood. yours.

warnings: not beta’d, smut, significant age gap (eric is like 1000, r is early 20s), dub-con, mind control on the low, blood drinking, high sex (eric's blood/v), smoking

masterlist | taglist | kinktober

When vampires had first come out of the coffin, you’d been barely above the age of seventeen, and their integration into the mainstream had been a whirlwind you’d been utterly unprepared for. Being from the south, your parents had instilled a deep sense of distrust in your fanged counterparts. Or, in your own words, fear. 

Your parents had nearly tried to keep you out of college because of it, claiming you’d be much safer here at home, but you’d nipped that in the bud fairly quickly. Still, that didn’t mean you were going to let it slip to them where you were going on your evenings spent at home over the summer. All they needed to know is that you’d be home in the morning. 

Your friends had been begging you to go to this bar across town with them for ages. They’d been going for years, but, being the only one in the group not willing to get a fake ID, you’d been left out of all the fun. Now, though, that you were over the legal drinking age, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it out seeing as your friends seemed to like it so much. Or, as you came to find out, seeing as they apparently liked the owner so much. 

“You’re gonna freak when you see him,” Rachel says, looking over at you from the driver’s seat. You’d been friends with Rachel for forever, longer than you can remember. She’d gone off to school somewhere in the northeast–a liberal arts college with less than two thousand total students–and it’d been ages since you’d last seen her. 

“I don’t get what’s so special about him?”

“Are you kidding me?” Rachel squeaks. “About Eric fucking Northman?”

Anyone who’d been west of Baton Rouge knew the name Eric Northman. It was undeniable. Someone could whisper the name in a corner of a packed ballroom, and a hush would fall over the crowd. 

And, yet, somehow, despite living in Shreveport since your conception, it hadn’t crossed your path. 

“Yeah?” you drawl. “He’s probably just some guy.”

“Some guy,” Gina scoffs. 

“He’s quite literally the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen,” she says as she fiddles with her engagement ring. “He’s a fucking god.”

“Sure,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

It isn’t much longer before you’re pulling into a shady parking lot behind a vacant liquor store. There’s a couple other cars in the lot, mostly what your father would call shit-boxes that have either been sewn together with duct tape or have bumpers that have been left to drag the ground. Slamming the passenger door shut, you reach into the pocket of your jacket to take out the pack of cigarettes, stamping one on your bottom lip as you dig further in the pocket to find your lighter.

Your friends have already walked across the lot to step into line when you finally get a light, shoving your materials back into your jacket as you jog over to where they are at the back of the, thankfully, fast-moving line. 

“Really?” Rachel asks. 

“Just be glad I didn’t do it in the car, okay.” You offer a squint of your eyes in a pseudo smile. 

“Whatever,” she sighs. 

The bouncer lets the three men in biker jackets ahead of you in and stops to examine you. She seems to recognize your friends and nods at them to follow the men, only to stick a manicured hand out in front of your chest as soon as you take a step. 

“I’m with them,” you huff, tapping the ashes out of your cigarette. 

“Sorry, sweetie. I’m gonna need to see some ID,” she drawls. The sweetie comes out in a sharp bite that has you taking a step away from her outstretched arm. She grabs the butt from between your lips and stamps it out beneath her stiletto’d heel.

“Fine,” you say. Digging in the other pocket of your jacket, you grab your wallet and hand over your driver's license. You’re thankful you’d just recently gotten your ID updated and have the horizontal one now, or you’re sure she would’ve kept you back. Where, you’re also sure, your friends would have left you to sit for the rest of the night. 

“Have a good night,” she says, handing it back to you and allowing you to step into the crimson bar. As soon as you’re through the door, you dig your pack out and light a new cigarette. Bitch. 

Your eyes gravitate toward the stage. A very large throne sits to the side of it, flanked by two overgrown men with their eyes scanning the small dance floor at the foot of the stage. The man in the throne is bigger. Much bigger. Large to the point that he dwarfs the chair you think would swallow you whole. You watch as he sits up, spine straightening as he looks the crowd over. 

You don’t think anything of it until his gaze falls on you. He seems to smile, and it’s then that you see the sharp canines extending out of his gums. 

You suppose coming to a vampire bar should’ve made you mentally prepare to come into contact with a vampire or two. 

The man on the throne appears before you in an instant, fangs retracted as he gives you a softer smile than he’d had previously. It unnerves you, still, with the way his eyes seem glazed over and his body hovers over yours. You glance back at the stage, eyes flickering nervously back and forth as if it’d just been a trick of the lights and you’d catch him lounging there again if you blinked hard enough. 

“You are… a pretty thing, aren’t you,” he says, voice growling in a register lower than you’d been expecting. It sends a shiver down your spine. He’s tall. Frighteningly, inhumanly tall in a way that has you cowering beneath him. Even seeing him on the stage before, it’s much more shocking up close. “It’s a shame you feel the need to taint it with that.”

He gestures to the stick between your lips with a flippant gesture, plucking it from your mouth to stamp it beneath his boot. What’s with everyone stealing your cigarettes tonight?

“Hey-”

“Still,” he leans down until his nose is inches away from your jaw and inhales. You don’t have the time to push him back before he’s returned to his full height. 

“Who the fuck are you?” you ask, attempting to take a step back only to bump into one of the bustling–and fairly sweaty–bodies behind you. The man raises his brow in surprise. 

“My, my,” he says. “Coming all the way out to my little bar and you treat me this way?”

“Eric,” you exhale. Your friends were right. He’s beautiful. 

“And you are?” You give him your name in a huff. 

“Follow me,” he says.

“I don’t know-” His fingers come up beneath your chin to tilt your face so that you’re like him in the eye. Something swirls within them, something you can’t place. You do your best to ignore the dull throb emanating beneath your dress. 

“Follow me.”

Your legs seem to move of their own accord, hand reaching up to take his as he leads you across the dingy floor towards a door beside the bar. You dodge bodies crumpled together between tables and chairs and slink behind him as he nods at a bouncer guarding the door. Once it’s open, he gestures for you to enter first. 

It’s a small office looking room. Various pictures and files line the walls and every surface is drowned in boxes and other small objects. You don’t have the time to get a good look at any of them, though, before Eric is spinning you to face him once again. 

You can see the way his lips twitch as you meet his gaze, nostrils flared. His hand lands on your shoulder, dragging down the side of your arm as goosebumps sprout in its wake. You want to blame it on the fact that he’s freezing, on the fact that he’s got fangs. On the fact that he owns this whole bar and now you’re standing in his office with the door locked. Not on the fact that he’s probably got decades of experience. Or, god forbid, centuries. 

“Why did you bring me here?” you ask. It comes out in a whisper, voice hoarse from swallowing hard. Breath hitching, your knees do their best not to buckle as Eric steps into you, forcing you back until your ass hits the edge of his desk. His leg comes to press between your thighs. With a nudge, his knee would be pressing directly against you, and you’re thankful he gives you the space. You inch up the desk until you’re halfway sitting on it. There’s no reason for you to be as hot as you are right now, and less of a reason for him to know about it so soon. Honestly, he can probably smell it on you. 

“Why do you think I brought you back here?” he asks, hands falling against your thighs. There’s no pressure, just their presence. 

“I don’t fuck random guys in bars,” you say. 

He stalls, hands crawling up to rest on your hips. 

“I’m the owner.”

“So I was right,” you say. “You lured me back here just to fuck me.”

He hums. You can’t tell if it's in agreement. His knee presses into you fully and you hope he chooses not to comment on how you’re pulsating against it. 

“Would you like that?” he asks. He brings his hands down again, this time to the hem of your dress. He begins to push up. Slowly. Oh, so slow, you barely register it until it’s bunched up at the tops of your thighs. You’re not sure why you nod. You think if asked you at a different time, a second before or after, you would have shaken your head and allowed him to lead you back out to the patrons, to your two friends who would lose their minds if they knew where you were right now. 

His mouth finds yours as he pushes your dress the rest of the way up. You can feel the way you’re leaving a damp spot against his pants and try not to whimper as he applies more pressure with his knee. You don’t succeed in that venture. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss. It’s not nearly as rough as you had expected it to be, but it’s far from soft. His tongue is in your mouth, licking at the flats of your teeth. His fingers dig into your skin as he thumbs at the seam of your panties, pressing it to the side enough to gather the wetness coating your slit and drag it up to your clit. Your hips jump against him. 

He disconnects your lips to trail his kisses down the dies of your face and down your neck. Pulling back, he draws your eyes up to look, and the dark swirl from earlier returns. “Don’t scream,” he says. “Unless it’s my name.”

Before he re-attaches himself to your neck, you watch as his fangs click out, and you feel the cold rod of fear as it slides down your spine. 

“You smell fucking amazing,” he groans and his teeth drag against your pulse point. Before you can make any sort of comment on that, you feel his teeth puncture into your skin just as two of his fingers sink into your cunt. His incredibly long and devastatingly thick fingers that are already stretching you out as they slowly thrust in. 

“Eric,” you squeal. You’re already dizzy, his tongue laving at the skin of your neck. Finally, he pulls back and you feel seconds away from passing out. His fingers are still inside of you, massaging your walls. His free hand comes up to his mouth, and you watch as his fangs pierce the skin there and he’s holding his bloody palm up to your mouth. 

“Drink,” he says. You oblige and suddenly you’re dizzy in an entirely different way. Every touch feels heightened, every item in the room seems to glow, and Eric truly, honestly, looks like a fucking god. The open wound on your neck stops aching and you swear you feel the holes close up. 

“Eric, please,” you whine. He tugs your panties down first, balling them up in his fist and tossing them somewhere behind his desk. Then his belt comes undone and he’s yanking his pants down just enough to pull his cock out of the confines. And if you thought his fingers were big before. 

“That’s not gonna fucking fit,” you gasp. He jerks himself until he’s fully hard. 

“Trust me, sweetheart. It will,” he says as he notches himself against your entrance. 

“No, I swear, you’re gonna rip me in half!” “Trying hard not to do that, already,” he says. He pushes in with one solid thrust. Even only halfway in, you can feel him in your throat. “Feel even better than you taste.”

Your ankles link around his back and your feet dig into his ass in an attempt to get him to move, to push into you until you can feel his pelvis against yours. He does. One thrust, then an agonizing pull back before he slams back in. 

Every part of you trembles as his pace picks up. 

“Oh my god? Oh my god,” you squeak. 

“Just me,” he quips and his head falls back. He’s fucking you at a superhuman speed, hips snapping into yours with so much force you think he’s close to bruising your cervix. And still. It feels good. It feels so fucking good. Every touch leaves you tingling and you think you’re going to explode with his hand finding your clit again. He pushes your legs open wider, allowing him to press into you further. 

You’ve never been this wet in your life. Not with your vibrator, not with any of your boyfriends, not even with the one you swore you were in love with when you were a sophomore in college. The squelch of his cock driving into you rings in your ears and you don’t think you’ll ever forget the sound. A coil within you begins to wind tight, your body on the precipice of turning into jelly in Eric’s hold. 

“I want you to cum for me, sweetheart,” he growls and it’s enough to send you flying. You clench around him, walls fluttering and throbbing as you feel his dick twitch in you. 

As soon as you’ve regained your consciousness enough to offer him a weak smile, he’s pulling out of you and spinning you around so that the front of your hips are against the desk. He thrusts into you swiftly once more, never once faltering from the ruinous pace he’d started up previously. Your back arches into the desk. Your pussy feels raw, overstimulated, melting into the pleasure he’s driving into you. Another orgasm is sure to follow. And quickly. 

“You are mine, whether you agree to it or not,” he growls. His thrusts begin to grow sloppy, cock twitching with every pump of his hips. With a final push in, he cums and offers you the first bit of warmth he’s been able to give you all night. You fall down the same rabbit hole moments later. Your entire body twitches as you do and you can barely feel anything as he pulls out of you. 

He gives you a minute to catch your breath, to gather yourself and spin around to face him as you tug your dress back down your thighs. You’re panting, still, as he wipes the semi-dried blood off of your neck and brings it up to his lips to lick clean. 

“No more cigarettes,” he says. “I can’t wait to see how you taste when you’re… pure.”

“I don’t know if I can promise that,” you say. 

“You will.”

He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he says. “I’ll be seeing you.”

He’s gone before you can ask what he means by that.