#the cast doesn’t like her either they’re taking it back and I had to be like. she makes money off it. that’s where she gets the lobbying mon

[gayeddiejuice]

🚨🚨 boots on the ground reporting 🚨🚨

ok just got off the phone with my friend, she is the mvp called me as soon as she clocked out while she walked to the train.

ok. first things first i asked. we’re they nice? and she said YES she said they were probably the easiest table anyone had she felt bad for everyone else cause she kept seeing all the handlers running back and forth and she was just chilling pretty much. she said they dinner was pre ordered but they didn’t eat much of it cause they probably ate at the pre party event. she was also like “did you know oliver is vegan?” LOL anyways. as the main handler the job is to make sure the vips have everything they need, so for example she would take all their food orders and then send it to the kitchen and then there’s a team of waiters who bring the food, the handler never leaves the table you have to be there in case they need anything.

she said since their team preordered most of the food it made her job so much easier, she basically just stood by their table all night just in case they needed anything. she did order lots of drinks tho she said they drank A LOT 😂😂 but it was mostly for all the people that kept coming over to their table, apparently they were super popular people from other shows kept coming over to talk to them. also lots of the other guests which is mostly just the advertisers, that’s the whole point of the party abc/disney has all these celebs there to mingle with advertisers to get them to sell stuff on their network. and she said everyone wanted to come to the 911 table!!

after the dinner portion the actual party starts and that’s when things get hectic cause the vips always scatter and if you’re their handler you gotta know where they all are at all times. i do not miss this job btw it gave me major anxiety.

during the party they pretty much stuck together which made her job so much easier and she said they all remembered her name when she only told it to them once when she introduced herself. listen she doesn’t know anything about this cast she kept calling them the girl and the asian guy or the two hot guys. which. yall. she said they were all extremely beautiful she said she kept blushing cause ryan (she fell in love with him btw) kept calling her by her name and asking her questions and he kept organizing the plates and glasses on the table to make it easier for the wait staff to pick up.

other than that she said later in the night she kept losing track of them cause again they were so popular 😂😂 mostly aisha, she said she seemed to be friends with EVERYONE and she said, i repeat she knows nothing about rpf she didn’t know what her words would mean, she said ryan and oliver (the two hot guys) hung out together the whole night especially once kenny left, she said he left at like 8 right after dinner, and aisha kept going to talk to other people but ryan and oliver stuck together all night. I said oh im so sure. 🤭

that’s pretty much it, i asked if she could hear their convos and she could but she didn’t really pay attention cause she didn’t recognize any names. she did say that they were all cracking jokes all night and they laughed a lot which idk warms my heart 🥹🥹

btw ryan and oliver did leave together and i think they were going to either go somewhere else with other people or they were having like an after party at the hotel? cause they kept telling people yeah we’ll see you “after” she didn’t really catch where “after” was but when they said bye to aisha ryan said “see ya at the hotel” and oliver told her to not take too long 😂😂 so idk I guess they’re still partying.

[guliexe]

━━━TOKYO 18+

2Hollis x Female!Reader

.ᐟwarnings/tags: friends to lovers, virgin!reader, loving sex, very corny, soft dom!hollis, fluff, confessing, dry humping, oral (f receiving), use of y/n, love bombing, p in v, creampie, choking

♡ you go to tokyo to film a vlog for your friends, feelings are confessed, things heat up.

.ᐟw/c: 5.0k

You’ve been best friends with Nate and Hollis for years, ever since you were teenagers. You’ve shared countless memories and done almost everything together but you were too shy to be on camera with them.

So when they invited you to join them on a trip to Japan with two other guys you had only recently met, you hesitated, but eventually agreed. Now, here you are in Tokyo, surrounded by four men who seem to have made it their mission to annoy you all day long. Originally, they planned to hire someone to film their YouTube vlog, but since you didn’t know what else to do as the only girl in the group, you offered to take on the task yourself.

“Yo Y/N, grab the camera!” Nate calls out as you all prepare to leave the hotel room and head to the car. You take the camera in your hands and start filming.

“Welcome to the ‘boylife in Tokyo’ vlog yall” Nate exclaims.

“Well, boylife…plus a random girl, actually” Hollis adds teasingly, causing you to laugh, your voice picking up on the camera. You make your way to the car and sit in front of the others so they’re all in frame. Minutes pass as they talk about random stuff, laughing and joking with each other.

"That wasn’t a freestyle, that was SHEDIM,"

Hollis says, glancing down at his phone.

"But y’all ain’t OGs, so..." he adds with a

grin.

After arguing over who’s an OG and who’s not, you can’t help but laugh at their ridiculousness.

“Y/N, you can talk too, you know. Don’t be shy” Hollis says, glancing at you.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, your voice picking up on the camera as you chuckle.

“You’re a part of this too, you can’t hide,” Nate adds jokingly.

After stepping out of the car, you and the group began wandering through the vibrant streets of Tokyo. Neon lights illuminated every corner, casting colourful glows in all directions, while hundreds of people filled the bustling streets and crowded storefronts.

You kept filming them for a couple of hours as they goofed around in different stores, tried strange street food, and shopped for clothes. But as the night went on, everyone started to feel a bit worn out and agreed it was time to head back to the hotel and chill.

Just as you were about to put the camera away in your bag, Hollis stopped you, swallowing hard.

"Hey, we don't have to go back if you don't want to. We can keep filming—I’m not tired" he said softly.

"Oh, sure, no problem. I’m not tired either" you replied, turning the camera back on to capture him.

He grinned at the lens, his energy still surprisingly high. "So, everyone else left—I know, sad—but it's alright because I'm here with the beautiful Y/N, and we're gonna stay out some more." You felt a warm blush rise to your cheeks from the compliment but quickly pushed the thought aside.

After wandering around for a while and filming Hollis ramble about minecraft, the two of you started to feel a bit hungry. You spotted a small, cozy restaurant across the street and decided to take a break there. Setting the camera on the table so it only captured Hollis, you both dug into your meals.

"Y/N still won’t show her face, but I’m gonna film her when she doesn’t know it—just watch me guys" he joked, glancing mischievously at the camera before looking over at you.

"Shut uuup" you mumbled through a mouthful of noodles, and reach your finger to the camera to stop it from recording further, which only made Hollis giggle at the sight.

Every time you were with him, it felt peaceful and fun—like nothing else mattered. This almost felt like an unofficial date, just the two of you chatting about random things, enjoying delicious food, and sneaking glances at each other every now and then. You couldn’t help but wish it could always be like this between you—and that he thought about it the same way too.

After leaving the restaurant, you stopped by a big arcade before heading back to the hotel. The room was packed with colourful machines, and loud Japanese music blared from the speakers. You wandered around, trying out different games and messing with the gacha machines, laughing at Hollis’s excitement over each prize.

Eventually, Hollis spotted a giant claw machine filled with adorable plushies and immediately zeroed in on a big bunny inside. You held up the camera, capturing his determined expression as he struggled over and over to get it out.

"I'm trynna win this for Y/N, but it's really tricky" he grumbled, glancing at you with a sheepish smile before focusing back on the machine. Hollis let out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head back dramatically.

“This shit’s rigged, I swear” he complained.

“You’re gonna spend all your money on that bunny” you teased, still filming him. He shot you a playful glare.

“It’s for you, so it’s worth it.” he turns his gaze back to the machine.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you tried to ignore the way your cheeks warmed up. Eventually, after a few more failed attempts, Hollis finally managed to scoop the bunny up, and this time it didn’t slip.

“Let’s fucking go!” he exclaimed, and picked the bunny up from the prize chute.

“For you, pretty” he teased and turned over to you, placing the bunny in your hands. You couldn’t help but giggle, hugging the soft plush to your chest, and eventually turning the camera off for the night. “You’re ridiculous” you mumbled, but the smile on your face was impossible to hide.

Just before heading back to the room with the others, you and Hollis stepped outside the hotel and wandered to a nearby bridge. The city stretched out before you, vibrant neon lights glowing from every corner of Tokyo’s center, as the moonlight reflected off the water. You couldn’t help but take a deep breath, soaking in the beauty of it all while hugging the plush bunny close to your chest.

But the view that mattered most to Hollis wasn’t the city—it was you. Remembering what he’d said earlier that night, he pulled out his phone and started filming you. Your hair was swept back by the night breeze, your eyes fixed on the mesmerizing sight ahead.

You turned to him, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. “Hollis! What the fuck!”

He just laughed, lowering his phone a bit but keeping his gaze on you. “Couldn’t help it. You just looked... really pretty right now” he admitted, his voice softer than usual.

"Isn’t she pretty, y’all?" Hollis said, grinning at his phone before finally stopping the recording and slipping it into his pocket.

You shot him a glare, your tone serious, but your cheeks red.

"Don’t put that in the vlog, Hollis."

He just smirked, clearly enjoying teasing you.

"Oh, I definitely will."

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. "Whatever. Let’s just go back."

You headed back to the hotel room with the others, keeping the camera rolling as they danced and lip-synced to random songs, jokingly fought eachother, and chatted excitedly about tomorrow’s show.

Eventually, everyone started winding down, collapsing onto the bed and couch. Laughter still echoed through the room as Nate and the others scrolled through the footage you’d taken. Hollis flopped down on the bed next to you, his shoulder brushing yours as he glanced at the screen.

“You got some good stuff today” he murmured, a lazy smile spreading across his face.

You chuckled. “Yeah, it was very fun filming you guys”

He nodded, his eyes still fixed on the screen, but you could tell his mind was somewhere else. After a moment, he looked over at you, a hint of seriousness softening his usual playful demeanor.

“Thanks for sticking around earlier. I know you could’ve just headed back with everyone else.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I didn’t mind. Besides, it was fun…just the two of us hanging out together.” you said softly, your cheeks blushing. Hollis's smile grew a little wider, and he glanced down, almost like he was trying to hide his own blush.

“Yeah... it was,” he replied, his voice quieter than usual.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the noise of the others fading into the background. You could feel your heart pounding a little harder than before, caught off guard by how close he was and the way his knee still brushing against yours.

Just then, someone shouted Hollis’s name, snapping both of you out of the moment. He cleared his throat and pushed himself up with a grin, throwing you one last glance before joining the others. As he walked away, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way you did—like there was something unspoken between you two the past few months, especially tonight.

It was around 1 am, and you stood out on the balcony, your hands resting on the glass railing as you lost yourself in the peaceful atmosphere of the city. The others were in the room, chatting and working on a new song, their voices muffled. Suddenly, the sound of the sliding door caught your attention, and you turned to see Hollis stepping out onto the balcony.

“Are you alright?” he asked, giving you a soft smile as he joined you by the railing.

“Just needed some air. It’s nice out here” you returned his smile.

He nodded, leaning his elbows on the glass next to you. For a moment, neither of you spoke, just listening to the distant hum of the city and the muffled laughter coming from inside. Your heart started beating faster at his presence, and his perfume lingering in the air made your mind hazy.

It wasn’t the first time you’d felt that spark between you two. Lately, it seemed to happen more and more—stolen glances, casual touches that didn’t feel so casual, and the way his voice softened whenever he spoke just to you. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were imagining it or if he was just good at hiding how he felt because he wouldn’t want to ruin your friendship.

You glanced at Hollis, your expression thoughtful. "Everything okay?"

He hesitated before answering, his gaze fixed on the city lights. "Yeah, I’m good. Just... thinking, I guess."

Gently, you nudged his shoulder, your touch sending a small jolt through him. "You know you can talk to me, right? Tell me what’s wrong."

He let out a soft, nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nah, it’s nothing. I just... really enjoyed our time together tonight. I mean, I always do, but this was different. I just... I wanna spend more time with you like this... alone" His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard before finally looking at you, his eyes full of a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. You felt your heart flutter, your cheeks warming at his words. Gathering a bit of courage, you took a small step closer, your fingers brushing against his.

"I’d like that too" you admitted softly and he moved his hand on yours.

"Yeah?"

You nodded, “Yeah, i like being with you…just us” looking up at his tall frame.

Hollis’s lips curved into a shy smile, his confidence wavering just a bit as his eyes flickered between yours and your lips. Taking a shaky breath, he leaned closer. For a moment, he hesitated, as if giving you a chance to pull away—but when you didn’t, he closed the distance and pressed his lips softly to yours.

You leaned in closer, deepening the kiss as your hands slid up to rest against his chest. Hollis responded by placing his hands on your waist, his thumb gently caressing your side, making your heart flutter. The kiss grew more confident, both of you lost in the warmth and softness of the moment.

Just then, the sound of the balcony door sliding open made you both pull apart, your faces flushed and breathing a little uneven. One of your friends poked their head out, completely oblivious to what they had just interrupted.

“ Yo, we’re ordering food—any preferences?” they called out, not noticing the way you and Hollis quickly stepped apart, trying to act casual.

Hollis cleared his throat, glancing at you with a small, sheepish smile before answering. “Uh... no, I’m good with anything.”

Your friend nodded and slipped back inside, leaving the two of you standing there with matching grins and hearts still racing.

After finishing your food, the tension between you and Hollis still lingered in the air, subtle yet unmistakable. Every now and then, your eyes would meet across the room, and a quiet thrill would race through you before one of you quickly looked away.

Eventually, everyone called it a night, saying their goodbyes before retreating to their rooms. You settled into bed, but sleep wouldn’t come easily. Your mind kept replaying the kiss, the feel of his hands on your waist, and the way he’d looked at you with that soft, vulnerable expression. No matter how much you tried to calm your thoughts, your heart wouldn’t stop racing, leaving you sleepless.

“Bro, come on, we’re gonna be late!” Nate called out to one of the guys to hurry.

You held the camera steady, capturing the chaos as everyone scrambled to get ready for Hollis’s show. Since last night’s kiss, nothing else had happened between you two. You’d been surrounded by the others all day, and although you couldn’t help but steal glances at Hollis whenever he was nearby, there hadn’t been a single moment alone together.

You sat in the VIP section of the venue, making sure to get the best angle for the vlog. The energy was electric—your friends on stage giving it their all, the crowd going wild with every song. You couldn’t help but get caught up in the excitement, a proud smile on your face as you filmed the unforgettable moments.

“That shit was crazyyy, bro!” Nate yelled into the camera, grinning from ear to ear as he threw his arm around one of the guys. The show had ended some minutes ago and everyone was backstage.

You panned the camera to catch Hollis as he fixed his earrings and wiped the sweat from his forehead, still catching his breath. When he noticed you filming, he shot you a lopsided smile and walked over, his eyes bright with excitement.

“How was it?” he asked, his voice a little raspy from performing.

You lowered the camera just enough to give him a genuine smile.

“Amazing. You killed it out there.”

His grin widened, and he hesitated for a moment before reaching out to squeeze your hand briefly, giving you a look that made your heart race all over again.

“Glad you were here to see it.”

Your cheeks warmed at the brief touch of his hand, and you barely had time to process it before someone called his name from across the room. Hollis gave you one last smile before walking over to join the others, who were already talking about heading back to the hotel.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your heartbeat as you continued filming the chaos backstage—everyone sharing stories, laughing, rapping and still buzzing with adrenaline. A little while later, when most of the guys had moved on to pack up their gear, you found yourself in a quieter corner, reviewing some of the footage on the camera.

Suddenly, Hollis appeared beside you, leaning against the wall with a casual, tired grin.

“You really got everything, huh?” he teased, nodding toward the camera.

You smiled back. “Yeah, pretty much. Gotta make sure the vlog captures it all.”

He hesitated for a second, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice dropping to that gentle tone he used when it was just the two of you.

“About last night...I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked up to his eyes.

“Me too” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little nervous despite his usual confidence.

“Can we maybe... talk later? Just us? I just... I don’t want that to be a one-time thing.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. “I’d like that.”

Relief washed over his face, and he shot you a smile before going back to packing his things.

“Born to do the most… forced to do the least”

Hollis said to the camera, doing a silly expression before breaking into a grin, making you laugh out loud as he lay on the bed, reviewing the footage for his “style” video clip.

After an hour or so, everyone eventually went to their rooms, calling it a night. You hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Hollis alone, and the anticipation was starting to eat at you. You sat on the edge of your bed, absentmindedly scrolling through your phone when a soft knock sounded at your door.

You quickly set your phone down, crossing the room to open it. There stood Hollis, looking a little disheveled, his hair messy and his shirt slightly wrinkled, but you loved it.

“Hey” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one else was around.

“Nate’s finally knocked out. Mind if I come in?”

You stepped aside to let him in, your pulse quickening as he slipped inside and gently closed the door behind him. A shy smile tugged at your lips as you spoke.

“I was hoping you’d come”

He turned to look at you. “Yeah?…I really wanted to see you”

Hollis took a hesitant step closer, towering your short frame.

“Y/N... I feel so good when I’m with you” He said softly, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Lately, you’re all I can think about. I was kinda scared about kissing you—I didn’t want to mess things up between us—but... I really fucking enjoyed it.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and without thinking, you reached up and cupped his cheek. You looked him in the eyes, a soft, sultry look appearing on your face.

“Kiss me again, then” you whispered.

He didn’t hesitate this time. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as his lips met yours in a kiss that was deeper and more intense than the last. Your fingers threaded through his hair, and he let out a quiet, contented sigh against your mouth.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were slightly breathless, and he rested his forehead against yours with a lazy, satisfied grin. His eyes softened as he looked at you, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

“I want more... with you,” he whispered, his voice low and sincere.

“I love you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and a smile spread across your face as you cupped his face in your hands.

“I love you too” you whispered back, your voice full of honesty and warmth.

He couldn’t help but smile, his arms tightening around you as he kissed you again—this time slower, savoring every second. You took a deep breath and whispered.

“Can you sleep here tonight?”

“Yeah” he replied without hesitation.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

A wave of relief washed over you, and you couldn’t help but smile as he pulled you closer, his hands tracing gentle patterns on your back. You leaned into his embrace, resting your head against his chest as his fingers brushed through your hair.

For a moment, you stopped talking, just soaking in the quiet intimacy of the moment. You felt his heartbeat under your cheek, steady and comforting, and it made you realize how safe you felt with him.

“Feels so good being able to say how i feel to you now”

You nod, then soon after, you leaned up and kissed him again, slow and unhurried, like you had all the time in the world. Your hands moved from his shoulders to his chest, feeling the warmth radiating through his shirt. His grip on your waist tightened, and he pulled you even closer, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. Your bodies pressed together, and a soft sigh escaped your lips.

The kiss grew hungrier, his hands roaming up your body as if he couldn’t get enough of being close to you. Your lips trailed down his jawline to his neck, leaving sloppy, heated kisses along his skin. You could feel him shiver under your touch as you sucked gently, leaving marks that made him let out a low, breathless groan.

His grip on your hips tightened, pulling you even closer, and you could feel his growing tent poking you. You moved to his ear, your lips brushing against it as you whispered,

“I want you”

A shaky breath escaped his lips, and he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire.

“want you more”,

he whispered back, his hands sliding under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin.

His lips found yours again, more desperate this time, as if he couldn’t hold back anymore. He guided you to the bed, his body pressing against yours as his hands explored the skin under your shirt, never breaking the kiss. He sat on the edge of the bed with you on his lap, leaving open mouthed kisses on your jaw and neck, making soft whines escape your mouth.

The sounds you made only making him harder, he put his hands on your hips, pushing you down on his erection. You slowly start grinding on him, moaning in his ear from the way his hard dick feels on your pussy.

“H-Hollis, wait” you stammered, suddenly gathering your thoughts and pulling back just enough to catch your breath.

He froze instantly, concern flashing across his face as he looked at you, his hands still resting on your waist. “Mh? What’s wrong?” he asked gently, his voice soft and reassuring.

You bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed but knowing you needed to be honest.

“I just... I’ve never done this before,” you admitted, your cheeks burning.

His expression softened, and he cupped your cheek with one hand, his thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. “I know, baby” he whispered, the pet name making your heart flutter and your pussy wetter. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

“We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. I’ll be gentle”

“Okay…” you whispered softly, the nervousness melting away as you looked into his eyes. Then, without a second thought, you closed the distance, crashing your lips onto his with a newfound confidence. He responded immediately, deepening the kiss as his hands slid down to your ass, firmly squeezing it. You start grinding on him again, wrapping your arms around his neck. You panted and moaned as he moved your hips on him faster. His hands moving to your shirt pulling it off of you, revealing your bare chest.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, makin’ me, mhp…so hard”

You whined in his ear, and he kissed your collarbone, pushing you harder against him, as he gently squeezed your tit, his fingers playing with your nipple.

“I’ve fantasized about this for so long” he admitted, caressing your ass.

“Mmh,fuck…need you—ahh…so bad” your small moans and whines filled the room.

“…‘m so close” you panted, your voice shaky as your hands gripped his shoulders tightly. He leaned close, kissing you, and suddenly picked you up and placed you on the bed, hovering on top of you. He placed soft kisses on your jaw, his hands moving to your sides.

“Let me take care of you, princess” he softly whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

He moved his hand under your shorts and panties, placing his fingers on your heat. You gasped at the feeling, arching your back. He smiled at your reaction, kissing your neck and biting on the marks he left before. He started moving his fingers on your clit in a circular motion, moans leaving your mouth as you held him close to you.

“mh, so wet ‘f me, baby” he muttered, feeling your wet folds.

He took his hand out of your panties, making you whine from the loss. He sat up, and placed soft kisses on your tummy, positioning himself between your thighs. He held onto the hem of your shorts, sliding them down with your panties, throwing them somewhere in the room.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby”

He wrapped his arms around your legs, leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs. You flinched under him, your breath quickening as you try to close your legs together from your embarrassment.

“Relax , princess, let me make you feel good, hm?

“O-Okay..” you stuttered and nodded, slowly opening your legs for him.

He went back to kissing your thighs, until you felt his slender fingers on your soaking cunt. He spread your folds, feeling your wetness, as he leaned closer and put his warm tongue on your clit, making you gasp and slightly pull on his hair. His mouth slowly moved faster, sucking and licking on your pussy. Your grip on his hair tightened as you arched your back, moaning and whining from the intense pleasure.

“You taste so good, princess…mmh” he whispered, his mouth vibrating on your clit. Suddenly, he slipped two fingers in your hole, stretching it out, his mouth never stopping, as you bit your lip trying to hold your moans from escaping. He moved faster and faster, devouring your swollen pussy, bringing you closer to your climax.

“ S-Stop–ahh…Hollis…”,

you managed to gasp out, your hands moving to his shoulders as you gently pushed his head away.

“Hm?”,

he asked softly, looking up at you, his tone full of worry. His hands eased their grip on you, giving you space as he searched your face for any sign of discomfort.

“Don’t wanna cum yet, wan you to fuck me” you whined.

Your words made his dick twitch, his eyes widened and breath quickened.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna do any—“

“Yes Hollis, fuck me…please, i need you” you immediately cut him off.

He swallowed hard, taking his shirt off in a swift motion, then his pants, and he hovered over you, kissing your lips softly, his hard bulge pushing on your pussy through his boxers.

“Want you…in me” you whispered in his ear, moving your hands to the hem of his boxers tugging on them.

“So eager for my dick, princess?” he cooed, as you whined and nodded fast. He then took his boxers off, his hard cock hitting his abdomen, making you drool at the sight. You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him hungrily, as he grinded his bare dick on your heat, taking in his hand and rubbing it up and down your soaked folds.

“Mhp..fuck” you moaned.

He put his tip on your entrance, slowly pushing it in, not wanting to hurt you. You gasped from the sudden pain, tightening your grip on his back.

“Is this okay, baby?” he softly muttered in your ear, his voice gentle and full of care.

You swallowed back a shaky breath, your hands gripping his shoulders and you nodded.

“Y-Yeah... keep moving,” you reassured him, pulling him closer to you.

His lips brushed against your neck, planting soft kisses as he continued, his movements slow and careful, until he filled you up completely. Soft whines left your mouth, as you tried to catch your breath, adjusting to his size. He started moving again, carefully, going in and out of you, the pain you felt slowly turning into pleasure, and the tears forming in your eyes fell on your flushed cheeks.

“so tight ‘n warm”

His pace quickened, bringing your leg around his wait so he could thrust deeper into you. You panted and moaned uncontrollably, as he wrapped his hands tightly around your throat, lightly squeezing it, and kissing you passionately. His other hand moved on your clit, circling it with his thumb, still pounding into your tight hole.

“Ahh, ngh…feels s-so good” you whimpered, trying to speak properly as his hand squeezed your throat. Feeling overstimulated by his dick and thumb, you suddenly felt a tight knot in your tummy, and you tugged on his hair.

“mhh…’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me, princess…make a mess on my dick” he whispered in your ear, kissing your jaw.

And just by hearing that, you came, moaning his name, creaming his cock, your legs trembling as his thrusts became slower.

“Hold on a little more baby, fuck, i’m so close”

You squirmed under him. He gripped your hips, pushing them firmly on the bed, his fingers bruising your soft skin as he sloppily fucked your dripping pussy.

“Cum in me” you bawled.

“What?!You sure?”

“Yes, please…I love you”

And with a few more thrusts, he finishes in you, “Fuck…”, filling you up with his warm white liquid.

“I love you so much, fuck, my pretty girl”

He presses a soft kiss on your lips , and collapses onto you. For a moment you didn’t say anything, just trying to catch your breath, his cum leaking from your hole. He sits up, and puts his boxers back on.

“Let me clean you up, hm?”

Hollis slipped out of bed and made his way to the bathroom, returning with a towel. Gently, he cleaned your abdomen, his touch tender and careful, never breaking the comfortable silence between you. As he worked, he pressed soft, affectionate kisses along your stomach and up your body, making you giggle softly at the ticklish sensation.

Once he was done, he tossed the towel aside and climbed back into bed, pulling you into his arms. You nestled against his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow and steady beneath your cheek. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head, his voice low and full of warmth.

“You okay?”

You nodded, smiling sleepily.

“More than okay” you whispered, looking up to meet his gaze.

He grinned, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from your face.

“Good...I love you” he murmured, his thumb grazing your cheek.

“I love you too” you replied, leaning up to kiss him one more time, slow and sweet, before drifting to sleep in his embrace.

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A/N: Not sure if i like this enough, but anyway! I’ll definitely write more hotel inspired fics. Feedback and comments are appreciated!! <3

© guliexe

[sp0o0kylights]

Knight Commander Stephan Harrington, Champion of Light, right hand to the newly crowned (and very young) Queen Elaine, was tied up on the floor. 

Unfortunately, so was Eddie.

Which wasn’t intentional--it certainly had not been the plan (not that kidnapping two royal knights had been the plan either)--but it was the outcome that had happened and so, Eddie had to deal. 

Now if only he could get the damn bespelled ropes from entangling him…

“You are incredibly bad at this.” The knight informed him in an amused tone. “Like, insanely bad. You should be ashamed levels of bad.” 

…which would be a lot easier if he wasn’t being heckled. 

“I am not!” Eddie defended, as he finally managed to free himself, throwing the offending, wiggling ropes across the room. Never again would he buy from the cheap spell stall in the market. 

“This is a clear and obvious ploy to get you to feel like I am in over my head and you--both of you!--are falling for it!” 

He leapt to his feet, spinning around and staring down at his captives with a look he hoped was threatening.

(It wasn’t.) 

“We've been kidnapped a handful of times, you know.” Knight First Class Robin Buckley spoke up from her position tied next to her commander. “People tend to put way more thought into it than this.” 

She’d adjusted her position sometime between her initial capture (a spell he'd purchased that Eddie had intended to hit the royal carriage and not the knights escorting it) to sit cross legged, hands bound behind her back.

“At least one thought, anyway. You gotta admit this feels pretty desperate.” Stephan piled on. He’d been more entertained than pissed ever since Eddie had taken himself down with his own tools, and the wisecracks were getting worse. 

“Thank you, Sir Stephan--”

“You can just call me Steve, man.” 

“—but some of us are on a tight deadline here. And for your information,” He brought himself to his full height, trying to loom over them menacingly, “nobody goes around kidnapping royalty unless they’re absolutely desperate.”

Not that he’d succeeded in the “royalty” department, but he’d gotten close enough. 

“Oh that reeks of a tragic backstory.” Robin said, like she was seated at a dinner party and not on the floor. “Did you get cursed?” 

“He looks like the type of guy to get cursed.” Steve agreed, head tilting like a faithful dogs as he examined his captor. 

Frustration overwhelmed him in a wave and Eddie went to angrily yank on his hair before catching himself in the act. As good as it would feel in the moment, it would not help him convince the idiots before him that this was serious, dammit! 

The result was that he flung his hands around wildly for a moment, before storming off across the room of the little abandoned cabin he’d found, face burning a brilliant, obvious red. 

“I didn’t get cursed, I got accused of--oh. Oh, no, I will not be caught monologuing, fuck you!”

He whirled on his heels, pointing a finger at their stupid faces. “Why I did it doesn’t even matter!” 

(Or rather, it did matter—a lot, actually—but not right now. Not to them.

Stupid fucking royal employees and their stupid fucking charmed lives.) 

He wasn’t shrieking, he wasn’t--except he was, and both knights traded a look behind his back as he paced wildly about. “I caught you, and I am going to use you to get what I want!” 

“Right, sure.” Steve said, nonplussed. “Say, did you maybe touch a weird looking, possibly magical item by chance? Or gave your name to a weirdly attractive looking lady who seems to love yapping about royal court band practices and who definitely wasn't one of the Fae?” 

He cast a sly look at his companion with that last line, and was rewarded when her mouth popped open in instant offense. 

“You swore you’d stop bringing that up!” Robin said, snapping a leg out in a kick, nailing her companion in the thigh with one thick boot. 

“I swore I’d stop bringing up the incident with Nancy.” Steve fired back, taking her kicks with ease. “And all those archery lessons you swore you needed, because you apparently hit your head in battle and forgot how a bow worked--”

“Shut up, Dingus!” Robin growled, in tandem with Eddie’s mounting panic. 

This was not, at all, going how this was supposed to. Not that anything had as it was supposed to, since shit went sideways, but the knights were at least could have the decency to be somewhat afraid of him! 

Or angry.

Eddie could work with angry!

This two bit comedy routine he was being subjected to instead of any rational reaction was just the icing on top of the weird cake of his life and he was this close to having a full blown mental breakdown about it. 

Which, of course, was exactly when they had to go and make things worse.

Robin stopped kicking her commander and turned back to Eddie, eyes narrowing with the sharpness of someone who had just put something big together. “Hey, hold on—aren’t you that bard half the kingdom won’t shut up about? Eddie the Balladeer?”

Because naturally, the first time anyone recognized him since his life went to hell, it had to be the people he’d just kidnapped.

(He should have listened to his uncle and become a woodworker.) 

“I was.” Eddie grumped. “More like fuckin’ Eddie the Banished now. But again,” He stressed the word with a harsh flick of both hands, “that doesn’t matter.” 

“Why not?” Steve pressed him. “Pretty sure Dustin is planning on you playing at his birthday party. He’s obsessed with that weird song you do. The one with the bed spring noises.” 

Eddie did not know who Dustin was, but after the chaos of the past two weeks, it was only a matter of time before word of his so-called crimes reached the capitol and shredded whatever remained of his reputation.

“Considering I’ve been accused of murder and my entire damn hometown thinks I’m leading satanic rituals, I seriously doubt that,” he sneered, aiming for something haughty and menacing—anything that would make them start taking this whole thing seriously. 

Steve and Robin exchanged another look, the kind only two people sharing a single brain cell could, the unspoken agreement loud and clear on their faces: ‘Do Not Laugh Right Now.

Which was, frankly, insulting, given the sheer level of trauma that came with being branded a murderer.

“Who accused you of satanic worship?” Steve managed to ask, clearly struggling to keep his words giggle free. “You look like one of those wobbly baby deer. You know, with the big, cute eyes.”

Eddie glowered at him. “Are you deaf? I just said it was the entire town!” 

(He determinedly ignored the fact that Steve had just compared him to a damn woodland creature—and called him cute, on top of it.)

“Is this one of those things wrong place wrong time things?” Robin tacked on, like this was a fun puzzle and not Eddie’s life spiraling wildly out of control. “Like, ‘there’s a dead body on the floor and I’m holding a knife but I swear I just walked in here right before the constable did’ type of situations?” 

“I bet the person he apparently murdered isn’t even dead.” Steve fake-whispered to Robin conspiratorially, eyes never leaving Eddie’s. They were crinkled at the edges in a smile, like this entire thing was getting better by the second. “Money says he helped a fair maiden get out of an awful marriage and the shitty fiancé accused him of killing her.” 

Which is exactly what happened, the fucking dick. 

Jaw swimming with his attempts to get out too many words at once, Eddie sputtered. “Of course she isn’t dea--I mean, I, no!” 

“Ha! Steve you totally nailed it.” Robin said, leaning back in triumph. “Which means Dongus here was trying to kidnap one of the Princes to get someone to listen to you. God that’s so cliche.” 

“It’s not like I asked for it to happen!” Eddie shrilled, tone hitting notes he hadn’t been aware his throat could make. 

“Man, I'm good.” Steve said, ignoring Eddie entirely. "I should've been a detective."

“Please, you’re much better at looking intimidating than actually being intimidating. Why do you think Hopper made you Champion, Mr. Model?” 

Eddie’s hands were in his hair again, and this time, he gave up all pretenses of looking cool and evil and let himself tear at it. 

“Why I’m doing this doesn’t matter because it’s not like you two can fucking help me!” 

That, at least, cut through the good cheer, succeeding in finally getting both knights to shut up. 

“I’m dead if I don’t fix this, but worse is if they go on and target Wayne, or Gareth or the rest of the band, or--” He wasn’t exactly hyperventilating, but he was breathing awfully fast. “I can’t let that fucknut Carver go on a whole rampage and hurt everyone who ever associated with me!” 

Wayne was fairly talented at talking the village down, but that had always been when Eddie had been accused of selling fake potions or replacing the town flag with Jason’s undergarments. 

He was not going to be able to fight off an angry mob, should they decide to make the trek to him. 

“Hey.” Steve said, his voice losing all the humor it had before. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay!”

“We can help make it okay.” Robin said gently and it become abruptly clear that his kidnapping victims were now trying to comfort him, because life just had to kick him while he was down. “We’re Knights of the Kingdom, after all.” 

“Oh and I suppose I’m just supposed to untie you and you’ll--what?” Eddie glared at them, hands pulling hard at his hair. “Just let the whole kidnapping thing go? Help me out of the goodness of your hearts instead of arresting me and throwing me in the stockades?” 

Steve shrugged. “I mean, yeah.” 

“I don’t believe you.” Eddie said flatly. 

“Does it help if we tell you this isn’t a contender for the top ten weirdest situations we’ve been in?” Robin asked. “Like, it’s not even close.” 

“No. No it does not.”

“Okay.” Steve said, in a ‘thinking aloud’ sort of voice. “How about this? We give you our words as knights that we’ll help clear your name, and you can stick with us so no one else tries anything until we do.” 

Like Eddie was dumb enough to fall for that bullshit. 

“And why would you do that? What's in it for you to help clear my name?” He challenged them. “We both know the second I untie either of you, you’re going to overwhelm me and take me in. I’m not taking that chance.”

Not with Wayne on the line. 

“Has anyone ever told you you have trust issues?” Steve asked, pushing Eddie right over the edge. 

“I was convicted!” He dropped his hands in a crazed movement, only to smack the back of one against the other's palm in time with his shrieking. “Of! Murder!” 

He must have hit another shrill note, because Steve and Robin both winced. 

“Easy.” Steve soothed. “You know who I am, right?”

Eddie snorted. Sir Stephan’s face was plastered across a shitload of banners all over the kingdom. You couldn’t go anywhere without knowing who the Queen’s Champion was, and Robin was nearly just as famous.

“Yes.” He grit out. 

“Then you know that while I myself don’t have any kind of magic or power, I am tied directly into the Kingdom’s power.” 

In an impressive display of athleticism, Steve maneuvered himself up into a proper kneel, hands still tied behind his back with softly glowing ropes. 

He looked up at Eddie through thick lashes, expression earnest. “If you want, I will tap into it to make you an unbreakable oath. That way I can’t betray you.” 

Stunned into stillness, Eddie stared at him, before his eyes swept to his companion, trying to check if this was some kind of trick or trap or--something else he was too stupid to catch.

Instead of an answer, Robin looked just as shocked as Eddie, her jaw dropping.

“Dingus, you can’t be serious,” She protested, while Eddie finally found his voice to choke out;

“Why would you do that?”

“Because we’re the good guys,” Steve replied, with a smile so bright it could probably power the sun. “and the good guys help people.” 

That was said a little oddly--like he was quoting someone who’d said it many, many times before. 

Eddie opened his mouth, struggling to form the words. 

“How,” he started, his voice cracking on the word. He paused, biting his lip before finally gathering the strength to ask, “How do you know I’m not just lying to you?”

“You?” Steve echoed, the word practically a challenge, but he was still looking up at Eddie through those damn eyelashes, his expression calm, like they'd known each other for a hundred years and would know each other for a hundred more. “No way.” 

They stared at each other for a long, drawn out moment. Eddie didn’t know what Robin was doing, didn’t have room in his brain to even recall her presence in the room. It felt like he and Steve were connected, his entire life was teetering and this moment would decide the outcome. 

Steve had been right. Eddie did have trust issues. Big ones, and this entire situation had only made them worse, but somehow, in that moment, he felt like he could do the impossible.

He could trust Steve.

“Okay.” He said quietly, all his bluster and wild hand movements gone. 

Steve beamed at him.

“Kneel down in front of me.” The knight instructed, and as if drawn by an invisible thread, Eddie did so, dropping down so his face was level with Steve’s. 

“Come closer.” Steve ordered, and waited as Eddie shuffled, closer and closer, until they were barely a breaths width apart, so close he could see the streaks of gold in Steve’s warm, brown eyes. 

“I,” Steve started, in a voice that was both powerful and intimate, “Sir Stephan, Knight Commander of the Kingdom of Light, Queen’s Champion and head of House Harrington, call upon the bonds that make me and that I have made in turn, to hereby swear to you,”

He paused, waiting, and it took Eddie a moment to realize he had never given the man his name.

“Edward Munson, of Town Hawkins.” He muttered, bespelled entirely by the warmth in Steve's eyes. 

“Edward Munson, Bard of Town Hawkins,” Steve said, and oh, what the addition of the word ‘bard.’ did to Eddie’s stomach. The flips it made when he realized just how well Steve was continuing to read him, better than anyone else in his life ever had.

(It made him feel insane.)

“that I will aid in clearing your name, restoring your reputation, and ensuring your safe return to the life you were meant to live.” 

Something built up between them, humming with the buzz of magic. The weight felt tangible, the threads growing thick tying Eddie and Steve together.

“By the powers that be.” Steve whispered, leaning ever so slightly forward, eyelashes lowering. 

Eddie repeated the last line back to Steve, guided by the nudging insistence of the magic that circled them. 

For a second the oath become visible, strings of bright yellow magic surging about, and Eddie was almost drawn to look at it, had he not been distracted by Steve closing the distance between them.

“Wha--” Eddie started to ask, only for Steve to draw the word into his own mouth, sealing their oath with a kiss. 

In the songs Eddie sung, the world exploded when one experienced true love's kiss. Birds sang, and people cheered, fireworks rose to explode in the air. 

This kiss was nothing like that.

This kiss felt like coming home. 

Steve ended it as chastly as he started it, pulling back to smile at him. “And there you have it. One sworn Knight Commander, duty bound to clear your good name.” 

“Uh huh.” Eddie said, blinking rapidly, trying to come back into himself, trying not to look as dazed as he felt. “Right. My uh, name.” 

Steve beamed at him. Tentatively, Eddie smiled back, and if a moment could be warm then this one was the warmest thing Eddie had ever experienced, like a gentle blanket being draped across them both.

It was ruined entirely by the forced coughing that started up next to them. 

“If you two are done now, my arms are going numb.” Robin announced, making Eddie jerk back and Steve roll his eyes. 

“Sorry.” Eddie said automatically, face going red for the third time that day. “I’ll uh. I’ll do that now.”

In his mad scramble to get to his feet and hide how aroused he was, Eddie missed the smug look Steve gave Robin.

In his attempts at removing the spelled ropes from her wrists, he equally missed the sarcastically mouthed ‘Slut.’ Robin aimed back at him. 

He did, however, somehow understand that Robin came with Steve, and that he had just damned himself to their bantering.

Weirdly, it made him feel better instead of worse.

xXx

 “So out of curiosity, what name did you give yourself?” Steve asked a handful of hours later, as the three of them began their trek to Castle Hoosier.

Eddie frowned at him. “Name?”

“You know.” Steve nudged his shoulder against Eddie’s playfully, like they were buddies. “Your evil wizard name, or whatever.”

“I never said I was a wizard, Steve.” 

“You cannot tell me someone as dramatic as yourself didn’t immediately decide to change your name to something ridiculous.” The knight challenged, and Eddie hated how easily the guy had clocked him. “I bet it has evil in the title. Or Mean. Or--” 

“It was Dread Lord Munson.”  Robin interrupted. 

With a grin so wide it overtook her entire face, she turned a little leatherbound notebook to face Steve. There, in Eddie’s spidery scrawl, was the offending name taking up half the page. 

“Where did you get that!?” Eddie squawked, lunging for the book. Robin, in a show of skill he wouldn’t have thought her capable of, tossed it right over his head, into the waiting hands of Steve. 

Eddie spun, cursing wildly as Steve took a look at his personal (!) writings. 

(He hadn't even seen her grab it, dammit!)

He ducked out of the way once, then twice, laughing the entire time, before closing the book with a snap and holding it out to Eddie. 

“Come on, Dork Lord, let’s go get your name cleared.” He said, a fond grin on his face. 

“I hate you. Both of you.” Eddie whined, a blush dusting his cheeks as he snatched his book back, but followed Steve anyway. 

He had the worst feeling he was going to be doing that for a while, now. Even if his name got cleared.

Fucking knights.

Bonus:

“We both know that binding ritual does not involve a kiss, Steve.” Robin said, some time later, quiet enough for only her friend to hear. 

“Ah, shut up Robs. Let me have my fun.” Steve said. “Besides, it sets the tone. Now that he knows what kissing me is like, it's all he’s gonna be thinking about.” 

“Pretty sure all he’s thinking about is clearing his name, Dingus.”

“Okay, yeah.” Steve stressed the word, “but after we clear it? That little scatterbrained bard is gonna be fully focused on me.” He flicked a finger at his own chest, and gave what he thought was his best winning smile. 

Robin made gagging noises.

In retaliation. Steve tried to push her off her horse. 

[bu3ck3r]

pretending

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

wc: 11.2k

warning: drinking

a/n: so this one shot is inspired by a song called pretending by fletcher (ty anon for this idea) and there is a lot of angst but there’s a lil bit of fluff too so enjoy🤓

The gym is nearly empty, save for the rhythmic sound of sneakers squeaking against the hardwood and the steady echo of a bouncing basketball. The rest of the team has already cleared out, heading for post-practice ice baths or late-night study sessions. But Paige Bueckers and Azzi Fudd are still here. They always are.

Paige dribbles slowly at the top of the key, rolling her shoulders, eyes locked onto Azzi, who stands in a low defensive stance a few feet away. The air between them hums with something electric, something neither of them ever acknowledges.

“You ready?” Paige smirks, shifting the ball between her hands.

Azzi’s lips twitch, but her expression remains locked in concentration. “I was born ready.”

Paige chuckles, shaking her head. God, she loves this—this back and forth, this unspoken challenge between them. She and Azzi have always had chemistry on the court, an almost telepathic connection that makes them unstoppable when they’re on the same team. But right now? Right now, Azzi is the only thing standing between Paige and the basket. She takes a slow step forward, letting the ball roll off her fingertips, testing Azzi’s reactions. Azzi doesn’t bite. She stays planted, knees bent, arms wide, her focus razor-sharp. Paige exhales, tightening her grip.

Then she moves. A quick crossover. Left to right. A hesitation. Azzi doesn’t flinch.

Paige drives to her left, shoulder dipping low as she powers toward the paint, but Azzi is there—fast, reading her like a book, stepping into her space before Paige can fully make her move.

They collide. It’s subtle, just a brush of bodies, a brief press of Azzi’s arm against Paige’s side. But it’s enough to throw her balance off, just slightly.

Paige recovers, spinning on her pivot foot, shifting back to the right.

Azzi mirrors her perfectly.

Paige grits her teeth. Damn it.

She fakes a shot—Azzi doesn’t bite—then pivots again, twisting toward the baseline. There’s a half-second opening, and she takes it, launching a fadeaway jumper just as Azzi reaches for the block.

The ball arcs high, smooth, effortless—

Swish.

Paige exhales, letting her arms drop.

But the game doesn’t end there. Because when she lands, she realizes just how close Azzi still is.

Too close.

Paige can feel the warmth of Azzi’s breath against her cheek, the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the lingering weight of her hand grazing Paige’s wrist before she finally pulls back.

Azzi doesn’t move for a moment.

Neither does Paige.

For a split second, the gym falls silent, the sounds of their heavy breathing the only thing filling the space between them.

Azzi’s eyes flicker to Paige’s lips. It’s quick—so quick that Paige almost convinces herself she imagined it.

Almost.

She swallows, forcing a smirk. “That all you got?”

Azzi’s jaw tightens, but she steps back, shaking her head like she’s trying to reset. “Not even close.”

Paige laughs, but it comes out a little breathless. She shouldn’t be thinking about this. About how her skin still burns where Azzi touched her. About how the weight of Azzi’s gaze lingers even as she turns away.

It’s just basketball, she tells herself. Just competition.

But as they reset for another round, Paige knows she’s lying.

To herself.

To Azzi.

To everyone.

And the worst part?

She thinks Azzi might be lying, too.

─────────────౨ৎ ────────────

Paige leans back on the bed, stretching her sore legs out in front of her as the low hum of music plays from her phone. The dorm room is dimly lit, just the soft glow of the desk lamp casting long shadows on the walls. Azzi sits cross-legged on the other end of the bed, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, her knee just inches from Paige’s. It’s late—too late for either of them to be awake, especially with practice in the morning. But they always end up like this, talking until exhaustion finally forces them apart.

Paige exhales, rolling her head to the side to look at Azzi. “You ever think about what comes next?”

Azzi doesn’t glance up from her screen. “Like… next season?”

“No.” Paige shifts, adjusting the pillow behind her. “Like… after all this.”

Azzi’s fingers still against the glass of her phone. Slowly, she looks up, her expression unreadable. “Basketball doesn’t last forever.”

Paige nods. “Exactly.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Azzi sets her phone down. “Why are you thinking about that now?”

Paige shrugs, even though the question has been gnawing at the back of her mind for weeks. Maybe longer. “I don’t know. I guess… it just feels like everything is moving so fast. Like, one day we’re here, playing ball, and the next…”

Azzi tilts her head slightly, watching Paige with an intensity that makes her throat dry. “And the next what?”

Paige hesitates.

And the next… we aren’t in the same place anymore? And the next… you move on, and I have to pretend it doesn’t matter?

She shakes the thought away, forcing a small smirk. “And the next, we’re in the WNBA…on different teams and everything.”

Azzi huffs a quiet laugh, her shoulders relaxing just slightly. “You’re really scared about that?”

Paige grins. “You’re literally delusional if you think I’m not.”

Paige isn’t sure why she even brought it up in the first place. Maybe because lately, she’s been noticing things she shouldn’t.

Like the way Azzi’s laugh sounds softer when it’s just the two of them, the way her fingers tap against her thigh when she’s nervous, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s trying to avoid a question, the way she’s looking at Paige right now, head tilted, brows drawn together, like she’s about to ask something Paige isn’t sure she’s ready to answer.

“You okay?” Azzi finally says, voice quieter than before.

Paige blinks, pulling herself back to the present. “Yeah.”

Azzi doesn’t look convinced. “You sure?”

Paige nods, forcing herself to stretch out lazily like she’s completely unbothered. “Just thinking.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow. “Dangerous.”

Paige snorts, shaking her head. “Says you.”

Azzi just hums in response, leaning back against the couch, eyes flickering toward the ceiling. “You know, I try not to think about the future too much.”

Paige glances at her. “Why not?”

Azzi shrugs, but there’s something tight in her jaw, something restrained. “Because it makes it harder to enjoy right now.”

Paige swallows. Sitting in this dimly lit dorm room, the air thick with something neither of them want to name. Right now, with Azzi’s knee just barely brushing against hers, with her hoodie slightly slipping off her shoulder, exposing the smooth skin beneath. Right now, with this ache settling deep in Paige’s chest, an ache that she’s been trying to ignore for too long.

She shifts slightly, their knees pressing together. Azzi doesn’t move away. Doesn’t look at her.

Paige inhales. “Yeah.” Her voice is quieter now, softer. “I get that.” The silence stretches between them. Paige’s heartbeat pounds in her ears, loud, insistent. She wonders if she reached out right now, if she traced her fingers along the exposed skin of Azzi’s shoulder, would Azzi let her? Or would she pull away? Paige doesn’t risk it. Instead, she lets the moment pass, exhaling slowly as she sinks deeper into the couch.

After a beat, Azzi yawns, stretching her arms above her head. “We should sleep.”

Paige forces a smirk. “You’re getting soft, Fudd.”

Azzi rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. Paige watches as she stands, grabbing her phone, already halfway to the door. But before she leaves, she pauses, glancing back. For a moment, Paige swears she sees something in Azzi’s eyes. Something hesitant.

But then Azzi just gives her a small, tired smile. “Night, P.”

Paige swallows. “Night, Az.”

The door clicks shut behind her. And Paige is left alone, staring at the space where Azzi just stood, trying to pretend that the weight in her chest isn’t real.

Paige doesn’t sleep much that night. She lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to will away the thoughts running circles in her head. The dorm room is quiet, except for the occasional hum of cars outside and the low ticking of the clock on the wall. But inside her mind, it’s loud.

Azzi’s voice. Azzi’s eyes. Azzi’s hesitation at the door. It’s all there, playing on repeat like some cruel highlight reel she can’t turn off. She rolls onto her side, squeezing her eyes shut. Stop thinking about it. She shouldn’t feel like this. Shouldn’t want something she knows she can’t have. Azzi is her best friend. Her teammate. The one person she can always count on, the one who understands her in a way no one else does. She won’t mess that up. She can’t. So when she wakes up the next morning, groggy and running on barely three hours of sleep, she makes a decision. She’ll bury it. She’ll ignore the way her stomach flips when Azzi smiles at her. She’ll ignore the way she catches herself watching Azzi during practice, how she notices the way sweat drips down her neck, how her fingers twitch with the urge to reach out, just once. She’ll push it all down, deep, until it’s nothing but a distant, fading ache.

She’s been pretending for months.

She can pretend a little longer.

─────────────౨ৎ ────────────

It’s easier during practice.

The moment she steps onto the court, everything else fades. The game demands too much focus, too much intensity for her to get caught up in her own head. She plays hard, going at full speed during drills, knocking down shots with mechanical precision.

But of course, Azzi is right there.

They’re paired together for scrimmages, passing back and forth, moving like they share the same brain. It’s effortless, the way they read each other. Azzi doesn’t even have to call for the ball—Paige just knows where she’ll be. They win every matchup, of course. And when practice finally ends, sweat dripping from her forehead, Paige almost convinces herself that things are normal. That everything is fine.

Until Azzi pulls her aside.

“Hey.”

Paige stops mid-step, glancing at her. “What’s up?”

Azzi hesitates, shifting from foot to foot. “You okay?”

Paige blinks. “Yeah. Why?”

Azzi studies her for a second too long, like she’s trying to see through whatever mask Paige is wearing today.

“You just feel… different,” Azzi says slowly. “Like, I don’t know. You’ve been quiet.”

Paige forces a laugh, shaking her head. “You know me. Just locked in.”

Azzi nods, but her eyes stay on Paige, searching.

Paige hates it. Hates how easily Azzi sees through her, how she can pick up on every little shift in her mood. So she does what she always does when things get too real.

She smirks, bumping Azzi’s shoulder. “You worried about me, Fudd?”

Azzi rolls her eyes but doesn’t smile. “I mean it, Paige.”

Her voice is too soft, too sincere. Paige’s chest tightens. She could tell her the truth. She could say, Yeah, I’m different. I’m different because every time you look at me like that, I feel like I’m falling apart. I’m different because I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, she keeps the smirk on her face, pats Azzi’s shoulder like it’s all a joke. “I’m good, I promise.”

Azzi doesn’t look convinced. But after a moment, she sighs and lets it go. “Alright.”

Paige turns away before she can say anything else.

Because if Azzi keeps looking at her like that—like she actually cares—Paige isn’t sure she’ll be able to keep lying.

Later that night, Paige finds herself at a party she doesn’t want to be at.

It’s one of those packed, too-loud dorm parties, music blasting, people pressed together in a too-small space. Normally, she’d thrive in this kind of setting—joking around, playing drinking games, letting loose.

But tonight, all she can think about is how Azzi isn’t here. She told Paige she was staying in, something about finishing an assignment. Paige isn’t sure why that bothers her so much. Maybe because she wishes she was staying in too. Maybe because she’s tired of pretending she’s okay when she isn’t. Maybe because no matter how many people fill this room, it still feels empty without Azzi.

She sighs, running a hand through her hair, debating if she should just leave.

Then someone slides up next to her.

“Hey, Bueckers.”

She turns, finding herself face-to-face with some guy she barely recognizes, probably from another team. He’s smiling, leaning in a little too close.

“You look like you need a drink,” he says, handing her a cup.

Paige takes it automatically, barely processing his words. She glances down at the liquid inside—some mix of cheap beer and whatever else they could find.

She doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want to be here. But she doesn’t want to think either. So she lifts the cup to her lips, downs a sip, forces a smile. “Yeah, sure.” If she can’t have what she really wants, at least she can pretend none of it matters.

At least for tonight.

─────────────౨ৎ ────────────

Paige wakes up with a pounding headache and a bitter taste in her mouth. She groans, rolling onto her side, squeezing her eyes shut as the morning light slants through the half-open blinds. Her head throbs, a dull reminder of last night’s mistake. She barely remembers getting back to her dorm.

The party had blurred together—loud music, sweaty bodies, too many drinks she hadn’t even wanted. She remembers laughing at something dumb, pretending to be okay, letting some guy drape an arm around her like she gave a damn. She remembers letting it happen, because if she was focused on that—on something meaningless—then she didn’t have to think about Azzi.

Didn’t have to think about the way her heart clenched every time Azzi got too close. Didn’t have to think about the fact that she wanted something she wasn’t allowed to want. She groans again, shoving her face into her pillow. You’re so fucking stupid.

The knock on her door comes too soon. Too sharp, too sudden.

She winces. “Go away.”

The door opens anyway. She doesn’t even have to look to know who it is.

“Seriously?” Paige grumbles, voice hoarse.

Azzi doesn’t answer right away. There’s just the soft creak of the door, the quiet sound of her footsteps as she steps inside. Paige forces herself to sit up, blinking blearily. Azzi stands near the door, arms crossed, brows drawn together in something between concern and disappointment.

Paige sighs, scrubbing a hand down her face. “How’d you even get in?”

Azzi lifts a key, twirling it between her fingers. “You gave me a spare, remember?”

Oh. Right. Azzi always has a way in.

Always.

Paige groans again, collapsing back against the pillows. “You didn’t have to check on me.”

Azzi ignores that, stepping closer, eyes scanning Paige like she’s assessing the damage. “You look like shit.”

Paige snorts. “Feel like it too.”

Azzi sets something down on the desk—a bottle of water and advil. “Drink that.”

Paige eyes her. “Are you my mom now?”

Azzi just stares. It’s the same look she gives when Paige is forcing up a bad shot, when she’s trying to do too much on the court and Azzi is waiting for her to get her head on straight. And it’s annoying. Because it’s too much, Azzi cares too much and she sees too much.

Paige shifts uncomfortably, reaching for the water just to have something to do. “I’m fine.”

Azzi doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then—quietly—

“Why do you do this?”

Paige stiffens. “Do what?”

Azzi exhales, crossing her arms tighter. “Act like you don’t care about anything.”

Paige looks away, taking a long sip of water. “It’s not that deep, Azzi.”

Azzi tilts her head, studying her. “You didn’t even want to be at that party.”

Paige swallows. “How would you know?”

Azzi takes a step closer. “Because I know you.”

And there it is. The truth, sitting between them, thick and suffocating.

Paige clenches her jaw. “It was just a party.”

Azzi doesn’t look convinced. “Right.”

Paige exhales sharply, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “What do you want me to say?”

Azzi looks at her for a long moment, like she’s deciding something. Then, finally—

“The truth.”

Paige’s chest tightens. She wants to laugh. Wants to tell Azzi that the truth isn’t an option. That the truth is too dangerous and would ruin everything.

So instead, she does what she always does.

She lies.

“I’m fine, Azzi.”

Azzi’s eyes flicker, like she hears the lie, like she knows. Like she’s waiting for Paige to take it back. But Paige doesn’t. Can’t.

So after a long, tense silence, Azzi just nods.

“Okay.”

And Paige hates it. Hates how small that word feels. Hates how it sounds like giving up.

Azzi grabs her bag, heading for the door.

Paige should say something. Should call her back. But she doesn’t. She just watches as Azzi walks away, leaving her alone with the truth she can’t say out loud.

And for the first time in a long time, pretending doesn’t feel like enough.

Paige tries to shake it off.

She tries to act like that conversation with Azzi never happened, like the way Azzi looked at her—like she knew Paige was lying—didn’t sit heavy in her chest for the rest of the day.

But she feels it.

Every time they step onto the court, every time they pass in the locker room, every time Azzi’s hand brushes against hers and she pretends not to notice.

She feels it.

And it’s killing her.

─────────────౨ৎ ────────────

Practice is brutal.

Coach isn’t in the mood for half-efforts, barking orders as they run through drill after drill, pushing their bodies past exhaustion.

Paige throws herself into it, trying to drown everything else out. But Azzi is off. Paige notices it immediately. She’s a half-second too slow on rotations, missing shots she usually makes in her sleep. She’s there—but she’s not.

Paige hates it.

Hates seeing Azzi like this. Hates knowing it has something to do with her.

So when practice finally ends, when the team starts filtering out toward the locker room, Paige doesn’t let Azzi slip away this time.

She grabs her wrist, holding firm. “Azzi.”

Azzi stops but doesn’t turn around. Paige swallows, heart hammering.

“What’s wrong?”

Azzi laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re really gonna ask me that?”

Paige’s grip tightens. “Yeah. I am.”

Azzi finally turns, eyes sharp, guarded. “You tell me, Paige. What’s wrong?”

Paige clenches her jaw. “I don’t know what you—”

Azzi pulls her wrist free. “You do.”

Paige exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “Azzi—”

“You push everyone away,” Azzi says, voice low but steady. “You act like nothing matters, like none of this—like we—don’t matter.”

Paige’s breath catches.

Azzi shakes her head. “And I’m tired of pretending with you.”

Paige freezes.

The words cut deep, deeper than she’s ready for.

Because Azzi knows. She knows what they’re doing—this dance around something they won’t name, this thing that lingers in every glance, every almost-touch. And for the first time, she’s calling Paige on it. Paige opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.

Azzi sighs, stepping back. “If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. But don’t stand here and ask me what’s wrong when you already know the answer.”

Then she turns and walks away.

And Paige—stupid, stubborn Paige—lets her go.

They don’t talk for two days. It’s the longest they’ve ever gone without texting, without some inside joke or random Snapchat or stupid TikTok sent at 2 AM.

And Paige feels it. It’s ridiculous, how much she feels it. She tells herself it’s fine. That this is what she wanted. That distance is better than wanting something she can’t have. But then game day comes, and everything falls apart.

They’re playing a ranked team, and from the start, it’s clear UConn is out of sync. Paige still plays well—she always does—but something is missing. Azzi is cold. She’s hitting shots, but she’s not there.

And Paige hates it.

Hates the way they aren’t moving together the way they usually do, hates the way the chemistry that’s always been so effortless suddenly feels strained.

The game is tight, coming down to the last possession. They’re down by one, Paige has the ball and Azzi is open in the corner. She hesitates.

Just for a second. But it’s enough.

The defense recovers. The pass is tipped. The buzzer sounds.

Game over. They lose.

And it’s Paige’s fault.

She doesn’t hear anything as she walks off the court, heart pounding in her ears. Doesn’t listen to the postgame talk, doesn’t look at anyone as she rips off her jersey and storms toward the locker room.

But then—

“Paige.”

Azzi’s voice. Paige stops.

Azzi steps closer, voice softer this time. “What happened out there?”

Paige swallows, staring at the floor. “I don’t know.”

Azzi exhales. “Yes, you do.”

Paige’s fists clench. “I hesitated.”

Azzi is quiet for a moment. Then, gently—

“Why?”

Paige closes her eyes.

Because i couldn’t stop thinking about you and i don’t know how to be around you anymore and you make me feel things I’m not ready to feel.

She exhales.

“I don’t know.”

─────────────౨ৎ ────────────

Paige doesn’t sleep that night.

She lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the game over and over again in her head. That last possession. That hesitation. That moment where she saw Azzi wide open, and instead of making the pass, she froze.

She let them lose.

Because of her. Because of this thing between them. She could pretend all she wanted, but the truth was suffocating.

Azzi mattered too much.

And Paige didn’t know how to handle that.

She avoids Azzi the next day. It’s childish, she knows that. But she can’t face her yet. Not when everything feels too raw, too close. She buries herself in the gym instead, staying late after practice, putting up shot after shot. She tries to drown out everything else.

But then—

“You gonna keep ignoring me forever?”

Paige freezes mid dribble.

Azzi is standing at the baseline, arms crossed, watching her.

Paige exhales sharply, gripping the ball tighter. “I’m not ignoring you.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow. “Right.”

Paige turns back to the hoop, aiming another shot. It clanks off the rim.

Azzi steps closer. “Are we gonna talk about this?”

Paige scoffs, catching the rebound. “Talk about what?”

Azzi’s voice is steady. “You know what.”

Paige grips the ball so tightly her fingers ache. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Azzi exhales, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

Paige’s jaw tightens. “Then why are you still here?”

Azzi flinches, just slightly. But it’s enough.

Paige instantly hates herself for saying it.

Azzi swallows, blinking hard. “Maybe I shouldn’t be.”

She turns to leave. Paige should let her go. She’s spent months pretending, months pushing Azzi away. But something inside her cracks.

“Azzi, wait.”

Azzi stops.

Doesn’t turn.

Paige swallows hard. “I—”

But she can’t say it. Can’t find the words.

Azzi waits for a second. Then, finally, she exhales, shoulders dropping. “Let me know when you’re ready, Paige.”

And then she’s gone. And Paige is left standing alone, heart hammering, gripping the ball like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. She stares at the empty gym, at the door Azzi just walked out of, and realizes something terrifying.

She’s losing her.

And she doesn’t know how to stop it yet.

─────────────౨ৎ ────────────

The silence between them stretches.

It’s not like before, where Paige could pretend things were normal. Now, there’s something heavy between them, something neither of them are saying but both of them feel. And it’s breaking Paige apart. She’s always been good at control. At locking things down, keeping her emotions in check. But Azzi is the one person who makes her feel out of control.

And it’s driving her insane.

So she finds herself at another party.

She doesn’t want to be here, but the alternative—being alone in her dorm, thinking about Azzi—is worse.

So she drinks. More than she should. Laughs at jokes she doesn’t really hear. Lets some random girl flirt with her, just to feel something other than this gnawing ache in her chest. But when the girl leans in, when she presses too close, all Paige can think is—

She’s not Azzi.

She jerks away. “I gotta go.”

The girl calls after her, confused, but Paige doesn’t stop. She stumbles outside, the cold night air hitting her like a slap.

And then—

“Paige?”

She turns too fast, head spinning.

Azzi is standing a few feet away, hands shoved into her hoodie pockets, staring at her.

Paige swallows, heart hammering. “What are you doing here?”

Azzi steps closer. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Paige exhales, running a hand through her hair. “Just needed to get out.”

Azzi studies her. “Are you drunk?”

Paige forces a smirk. “Maybe.”

Azzi doesn’t laugh. “Paige.”

Her voice is soft. Too soft.

Paige looks away. “Why do you care?”

Azzi exhales sharply. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Paige clenches her jaw. “Get what?”

Azzi steps closer, eyes searching hers. “You can keep pretending all you want, but I’m done playing this game.”

Paige’s chest tightens.

Azzi shakes her head. “You push me away, and then you pull me back in. And I let you, because it’s you.”

Paige swallows hard. “Azzi—”

“No.” Azzi’s voice is firm. “I’m not gonna stand here and watch you destroy yourself because you’re too scared to admit how you feel.”

Paige flinches. “I don’t—”

Azzi sighs, shaking her head. “You do.”

And then, before Paige can stop her—

Azzi turns and walks away. And this time, Paige can’t let her go.

Not again.

So she does something she’s never done before. She runs after her. Grabs her wrist, spinning her back around.

Azzi stares at her, startled. “Paige—”

Paige doesn’t think. Doesn’t hesitate. She just kisses her. Hard. Desperate. Like she’s been drowning for months and Azzi is the only thing keeping her afloat.

And for a second—just a second—Azzi kisses her back.

Then—

She pulls away.

Paige’s stomach drops.

Azzi’s eyes are wide, searching hers.

Then, quietly—heartbreakingly—

“You can’t just do that, Paige.”

Paige’s throat tightens. “Azzi—”

But Azzi shakes her head.

“You don’t get to kiss me when you’re drunk,” she whispers. “Not when you’re gonna pretend it didn’t mean anything tomorrow.”

Paige feels like the ground has been ripped out from under her.

Azzi swallows hard, stepping back. “Let me know when you’re ready to stop running.”

And then she’s gone. And this time, Paige doesn’t chase her.

Because for the first time, she’s terrified she might have already lost her.

The next few days feel like a nightmare in slow motion.

Paige can’t stop thinking about the way Azzi looked at her after the kiss.

The way she pulled away, like the very thought of Paige touching her was too much.

The worst part? Paige knows she deserves it. She’s been playing games, keeping Azzi at arm’s length when all she really wanted was to pull her closer. She’s been pretending for so long, pretending like she didn’t care, like she could keep it all under control.

But now, everything is falling apart, and she doesn’t know how to fix it.

─────────────౨ৎ ────────────

It’s game day again, but Paige’s head isn’t in it.

She can’t focus. She’s going through the motions—waking up early, putting on her uniform, showing up for pregame warm-ups—but her mind is miles away. Every time she looks up, she half-expects to see Azzi standing across the court, staring at her the way she did the night of the kiss.

But Azzi isn’t here. She hasn’t been speaking to Paige. And Paige is miserable because of it.

During the team huddle before tip-off, Paige forces a smile, nodding along as Coach gives her usual pregame pep talk. But it’s all a blur.

The game is intense. UConn is up against a tough team, and they need this win. But Paige can’t think about that. She can’t think about anything but Azzi. Every time she makes a play, every time she passes the ball or makes a shot, she’s just hoping—hoping—she’ll catch a glimpse of Azzi on the sideline, or in the locker room after.

But Azzi stays distant. And every time Paige looks in her direction, Azzi looks away. It’s like an invisible wall has gone up between them, and Paige feels like she’s suffocating behind it.

At halftime, Coach pulls her aside. “Bueckers, what’s going on?”

Paige blinks, taken off guard. “What do you mean?”

“You’re off your game today. You’re not playing with the same focus as usual. What’s going on?”

Paige opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

She’s not sure what to say. The truth would destroy everything.

Coach stares at her for a moment, then sighs. “Get it together, Paige. This team needs you.”

Paige nods, swallowing the lump in her throat.

But inside, her heart is pounding.

Because the team might need her, but all she can think about is the fact that she’s losing Azzi.

The game ends in a narrow victory, but Paige hardly notices. The court is filled with loud cheers, teammates high-fiving and celebrating their win, but all Paige feels is the weight of the silence between her and Azzi.

Azzi hasn’t spoken to her since the kiss. Not a word.

Not even a glance.

And it’s killing Paige.

After the game, as the team heads to the locker room, Paige hesitates. She lingers in the hallway, torn between the desire to face Azzi and the fear of what might happen if she does.

Finally, she decides.

She can’t keep pretending. She won’t lose Azzi without at least trying.

Paige walks into the locker room, eyes scanning the room for Azzi. When she spots her, sitting at her locker, head down, pulling her shoes off, her chest tightens.

Azzi doesn’t even look up.

Paige swallows hard, stepping closer. “Azzi, we need to talk.”

Azzi doesn’t respond. Paige feels like she’s suffocating. “Azzi…”

Azzi’s voice is quiet, almost cold. “What do you want me to say, Paige?”

Paige feels the heat rise in her chest. “I want you to talk to me. I want you to stop pretending like I don’t exist.”

Azzi looks up, and for the first time in days, their eyes meet. There’s no warmth there. Just a guarded emptiness. “I’m not pretending,” Azzi says, her voice calm but firm. “I’m just done with this. With you.”

Paige’s heart stops. “What do you mean?” she whispers.

Azzi stands up slowly, facing Paige. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep giving you everything I have and watching you push me away.”

Paige opens her mouth, but the words don’t come.

Azzi shakes her head. “You’re afraid of me, Paige. You’re afraid of what this—” she gestures between them, “—could be. So you keep running. And I’m done chasing.”

Paige feels like the room is spinning. “I’m not running.”

Azzi steps closer, her voice breaking just a little. “Yes, you are. Every time I try to get close, every time I try to reach you, you pull away.”

Paige swallows, her throat tight. “I don’t know how to—”

Azzi’s eyes soften, just a little, but the pain is still there. “You have to figure it out, Paige. You have to decide if this—” she gestures to the space between them again, “—is worth it. Because I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter.”

The silence stretches between them, and for a moment, neither of them speaks. Azzi’s eyes are filled with something soft, something vulnerable, but Paige can’t tell if it’s regret or just the last remnants of something they never gave a chance. Finally, Azzi turns away, walking toward the door.

Paige’s heart races as she watches her go.

She doesn’t know how much longer she can hold on before everything slips through her fingers.

“Azzi…”

Azzi stops, her back still to Paige.

“I’m sorry.”

Azzi doesn’t move. And for a second, Paige thinks maybe—just maybe—it’s not too late. But Azzi doesn’t turn around. She walks out the door, leaving Paige standing there, holding onto nothing but the hope that someday, somehow, she’ll get it right.

The next few days blur into a haze.

Paige barely sleeps, spending every moment thinking about Azzi. About the way she walked out of that locker room, leaving Paige standing there like she didn’t matter. She can still feel the echo of Azzi’s words, the soft but firm declaration that she couldn’t keep running, that this—whatever this was—meant more than Paige had allowed herself to believe. And it’s been eating Paige alive. Azzi’s face lingers in her mind. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees the way Azzi looked at her when she said those words. There was so much hurt there. But also… something else. Something softer, something she’s not ready to admit.

Paige has always prided herself on being strong, on being in control, but with Azzi? She’s never felt more out of control in her life.

And the worst part?

She doesn’t know how to fix it.

─────────────౨ৎ ────────────

It’s late, past midnight, when Paige finally gives in. She grabs her phone from the desk, the screen lighting up her room in the dark. Her fingers hover over the screen, trembling for just a second. She could send a text. It’s the easy way out. But she knows it won’t work. Not anymore. So she opens up Snapchat instead.

One quick glance at Azzi’s story shows her sitting in her dorm, headphones on, playing some music. She’s all alone, just like Paige. But for some reason, that makes it worse.

Paige types.

“Can we talk?”

She stares at the message for what feels like an eternity. And then—send.

The message is gone. Out there, floating in the void between them. But still, nothing happens. Azzi doesn’t reply. Paige lies back on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

Did I ruin everything? Is this too late?

She shuts her eyes, not willing to admit how much it hurts to feel her world slip away.

She waits.

And then, finally, her phone buzzes. She opens the message with shaky hands.

Azzi: “I don’t know, Paige. I don’t know if we can fix this.”

Paige’s heart sinks. She types, slowly.

“We have to try.”

She holds her breath as she waits for Azzi’s reply.

And then—

Azzi: “I’m scared too, you know. I’m scared of what happens if we do this. But I don’t want to keep pretending anymore.”

Paige’s chest tightens.

“I don’t want to pretend either.”

She stares at the screen for a moment, heart racing in her chest. She’s never felt so vulnerable, so exposed. But the only thing that matters now is fixing this. Fixing what she’s broken.

“Meet me at the court?” And this time, she doesn’t hesitate.

Azzi’s reply is almost immediate.

“Okay.”

It’s after 1 AM when Paige walks into the empty gym. The lights are dim, casting long shadows over the court, and everything feels quiet, too quiet. But she’s here. She’s finally here.

The sound of footsteps echoes in the distance, and Paige turns to see Azzi stepping onto the court, her hoodie pulled up, face unreadable. She stops a few feet away, just far enough that Paige can’t touch her, but close enough that the distance between them feels suffocating.

For a long moment, neither of them says anything. Paige wants to say something. Wants to explain, to apologize, to beg for a chance. But she doesn’t know where to start.

Azzi beats her to it. “You wanted to talk.”

Paige nods, her voice thick. “Yeah. I—I don’t know what happened, Azzi. I don’t know why I kept pushing you away, why I was so scared.”

Azzi’s eyes search hers, but there’s no anger there. Just… understanding.

“Why were you scared?” she asks, her voice softer now.

Paige swallows. “Because you… you mean more to me than I’ve ever let myself believe. And I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Azzi’s expression softens, but she still keeps her distance. “You don’t think I know that?”

Paige shakes her head, feeling like she’s losing the battle. “I don’t know what to do, Azzi. I don’t know how to fix this, but I know I don’t want to lose you. I—I can’t lose you.”

Azzi takes a step closer, and for the first time, she reaches out, lightly brushing her fingers against Paige’s. The contact is gentle, but it feels like a shock.

“I’ve never wanted anything more than to be close to you, Paige,” Azzi says softly, “But I don’t know if I can just jump back in. You’ve hurt me, and I need to know you’re really ready to change.”

Paige feels a tightness in her chest as the words sink in. She knows Azzi is right. She’s hurt her, and no amount of apologies will make that go away. But it’s the only thing she can offer now.

“I’m ready,” Paige whispers. “I want to prove it to you. I want to be with you, Azzi. No more games. No more pretending.”

Azzi looks down, biting her lip as she thinks it over. The silence hangs between them, thick and heavy.

Then, slowly, she meets Paige’s eyes again. “I need time.”

Paige nods, her heart aching. “Take all the time you need. But please… don’t give up on us. Not yet.”

Azzi takes a deep breath. “I won’t. I just… I need to know that you’re in this for real. That I’m not the only one who’s putting my heart on the line.”

Paige’s eyes flicker with hope. “You’re not. I swear.”

For a long moment, neither of them moves. Then, with a sigh, Azzi steps closer, her hand now resting lightly on Paige’s arm.

“I’m scared too,” Azzi admits softly. “But I don’t want to keep pretending anymore.”

Paige’s breath catches, and then—slowly—she steps forward, closing the gap between them.

“Me neither.”

And finally, without hesitation, they close the distance.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as though they’re both testing the waters. But when Paige feels Azzi’s lips against hers, the floodgates open. She feels everything—years of longing, confusion, and frustration—crash over her like a wave.

They pull back only for a second, their breaths mingling in the air. And then, as if this time is different, Azzi deepens the kiss. This time, there are no barriers.

Just them.

And for the first time in months, Paige feels like she’s finally found her way back.

─────────────౨ৎ ────────────

The days that follow are a mix of overwhelming emotion and tentative hope. Paige and Azzi have stepped into uncharted territory, and every moment feels like both a victory and a vulnerability. But they both know this is just the beginning. They are both tentative, unsure of how to navigate the newness of what’s between them.

The first few conversations they have are clumsy—awkward pauses between words, too much silence, too many things unsaid. But there’s a deep, unspoken understanding between them. No one else on the team knows what happened after the late-night conversation at the court. For now, it’s just them—sitting on the sidelines of their friendship, waiting to see where it will take them.

It’s a late afternoon practice when things begin to shift. They’ve finished running drills and the team has scattered, but Paige lingers. Azzi, too, is still here, halfway through the gym, shooting free throws. Paige watches her for a moment, trying to read the way Azzi’s face remains unreadable.

Then Azzi turns, her eyes meeting Paige’s across the gym. There’s no hesitation this time, no pulling away. Azzi’s lips curl into a faint, tentative smile, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Paige feels that wall begin to crumble. She doesn’t know what’s happening between them yet, but she knows one thing for sure—this is real.

Paige walks over slowly, as if afraid to break the fragile thread that binds them together. “Can we… talk? Again?”

Azzi nods, her smile softening, and it’s as if the weight they’ve both been carrying lifts a little.

They sit on the bleachers, side by side. The gym is nearly empty now, just the two of them, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights above their heads.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Azzi begins, her voice calm but steady. “I don’t want to rush anything. I don’t want to dive back into something we’re both not ready for. But I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay with how we were before. I can’t pretend like I didn’t feel anything, like I wasn’t affected by the way you pulled away.”

Paige feels her heart constrict. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” she says softly. “I just didn’t know what to do with everything I was feeling. I didn’t know if it was too much. I didn’t know if you… if you even felt the same way. And I guess I was scared.”

Azzi turns her body toward Paige slightly, her eyes meeting hers. “You don’t have to be scared anymore, Paige. Not with me. I just need to know that we’re doing this because we both want to, not because we’re afraid of being alone, or afraid of the unknown.”

Paige nods, her fingers fidgeting nervously. “I don’t want to rush. I just want to take it slow. But I also don’t want to keep running away from what we both know is real.”

Azzi’s gaze softens, and for a moment, Paige sees that raw vulnerability—the same fear, the same uncertainty. And it’s almost comforting.

“I don’t know what the future holds,” Azzi says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m willing to figure it out with you.”

The air between them feels charged, like something unspoken has passed between them, a pact forged in quiet understanding.

“I’m with you,” Paige whispers back. “We’ll figure it out together.”

The weeks that follow bring a new rhythm to their lives, one that feels uncertain but filled with possibility. Paige and Azzi are no longer just teammates, but they’ve also begun to carve out space for each other beyond the court. The change is subtle at first, but it’s there—shared glances, inside jokes, moments when their hands accidentally brush during practice and neither of them pulls away. They’ve begun to talk more, slowly opening up about the things that have always been too hard to say aloud. It’s not just about basketball anymore, not just about their shared goals as players, but also about their fears, their dreams, and the things that keep them up at night. It’s those small conversations—those quiet moments when they’re vulnerable with each other—that make Paige believe that maybe they really can make this work.

But there are still moments of doubt. Paige feels the weight of those doubts especially when they’re surrounded by their teammates. The unspoken tension, the way people stare or whisper when they’re too close or too comfortable around each other. She’s not sure if the world is ready for them, but right now, it feels like they’re building something that’s worth fighting for, even if no one else understands it.

One day after practice, the team is gathered in the locker room, and the buzz of excitement is palpable. There’s a big game coming up, and the stakes are high. The chatter is loud, everyone’s discussing strategy, pumping each other up for the competition.

Paige and Azzi are standing by their lockers, talking quietly amongst themselves, when one of their teammates approaches. “Hey, you two,” Caroline says with a teasing smile. “You’re practically joined at the hip lately. What’s going on?”

There’s a slight edge to the question, and for a moment, Paige feels her heart race. Azzi glances at her, a silent understanding passing between them. This is the moment—the one where they’ll have to face the world and the weight of their relationship.

Azzi takes a breath, glancing back at Paige. “Yeah,” she says, her voice light but firm. “We’ve been talking. We’ve been figuring things out.”

Caroline raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push further. The unspoken tension hangs in the air for a moment, but Azzi’s calmness settles the situation. “It’s nothing to worry about,” Azzi adds with a shrug, turning back to her locker. “We’re still focused on the game.”

Caroline nods, but there’s a knowing look in her eyes as she walks away.

Paige exhales, relief washing over her, and she looks at Azzi. “That went better than I thought it would.”

Azzi smiles. “They’ll get used to it.”

Paige chuckles softly. “I hope so.”

But in the quiet of the locker room, as their teammates continue to talk strategy, Paige knows that nothing will be the same again. They’ve crossed a line now, and there’s no going back. Whatever happens, she’s in this with Azzi.

─────────────౨ৎ ────────────

There’s a storm coming, and it’s not the weather. It’s the pressure that’s been building between Paige and Azzi. There’s something undone between them, something they still haven’t talked about, and it’s hanging in the air, thick and heavy.

It’s the night before their biggest game of the season. The team is resting, but Paige can’t sleep. She’s lying in bed, the sheets tangled around her, staring at the ceiling. The quiet hum of the world outside feels distant, far away, as if everything is happening somewhere else.

Her phone buzzes, and she glances at it.

Azzi’s name.

Paige’s heart skips a beat.

“Can I come over?” the message reads.

Paige doesn’t hesitate.

“Of course.”

Ten minutes later, Azzi is at her door, standing in the hallway, her hoodie pulled tightly around her.

She steps in without saying a word, and Paige’s chest tightens. There’s a heaviness in Azzi’s eyes, something that wasn’t there before.

“What’s wrong?” Paige asks, her voice low.

Azzi shakes her head, her fingers running through her hair. “I don’t know,” she says quietly. “I feel like I’m pulling away, but I don’t know how to fix it.”

Paige stands up, moving closer to her. “What do you mean?”

Azzi looks at her, a mixture of confusion and frustration in her expression. “I want this. I want us. But I’m scared that if I let myself get too close to you, I’ll lose control. And I don’t know how to balance that. I don’t know if I can keep being who I am and still have you.”

Paige’s heart aches. “Azzi, you’re not going to lose me,” she says gently. “But you can’t shut me out, either.”

Azzi’s eyes search hers, and for a moment, Paige feels like they’re on the edge of something huge—something they both need to confront.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” Azzi admits quietly.

“I think the first step is being honest,” Paige replies softly, her hand reaching out to touch Azzi’s arm. “We’re in this together, remember? We’ll figure it out, one step at a time.”

Azzi nods, and the air between them feels different now—charged, but with a sense of understanding. A sense that, maybe, they can truly make it work.

And that’s when Paige realizes that whatever happens tomorrow, whatever happens in the game, this is the moment that matters. They’ll face it together.

The morning of the big game is tense. The gym is filled with excitement, players stretching, fans lining the bleachers. But inside Paige, there’s a quiet storm brewing.

Azzi is beside her, but their connection is different now. It’s deeper, more fragile, and yet more real than it’s ever been. They haven’t solved everything, but they’re not pretending anymore.

It’s not just about basketball anymore, not just about the competition. This is their test. Paige can feel it in the air, the tension building between her and Azzi. They’ve been walking a fine line, trying to balance everything they’ve been through, but now they have to prove something, both to themselves and to each other.

The crowd is loud, the excitement palpable. The team is buzzing, their adrenaline building. But Paige can’t focus. She’s watching Azzi out of the corner of her eye, noticing the way her body is tense, like she’s holding herself back from something. They haven’t talked much about what happened the night before—about the way Azzi had admitted to feeling like she might lose control. But Paige knows it’s weighing heavily on her.

As they stand in the locker room before the game, the coach is giving one last pep talk. The team is hyped, their adrenaline building. But Paige can’t focus. She’s watching Azzi, her gaze flickering back to her every few seconds, trying to read her without being obvious. Azzi doesn’t meet her eyes, her mind clearly somewhere else, and Paige wonders if Azzi is just as nervous as she is. Not about the game, but about them. About what happens if things don’t work out. If the emotions they’re both carrying end up being too much.

“Alright, everyone!” Geno calls, clapping his hands to bring them back into focus. “We’ve trained for this. We know our game plan. We know what to do. Just go out there and play your hearts out!”

The team cheers, but the noise is a blur to Paige. Her focus is entirely on Azzi. The air between them feels heavy, like something unsaid, something important is hanging in the balance.

The game starts with a roar of the crowd, the sound of sneakers squeaking against the hardwood, and the sharp, crisp calls of the referees cutting through the atmosphere. Paige and Azzi are both locked in, playing with everything they have. They’re a perfect pair—working in sync, passing with precision, their chemistry undeniable. But under the surface, there’s a quiet storm.

Midway through the second quarter, Paige and Azzi find themselves on the court together, an opportunity to show off their partnership. A fast break—Azzi with the ball, her eyes scanning the court. Paige sprints ahead, calling for the pass. Azzi’s gaze flicks to her, but just for a moment. She hesitates before making the throw.

Paige catches it, but the hesitation hangs between them, and as she tries to make her move to the basket, she feels the pressure. The energy from the crowd is deafening, but for a split second, it feels like everything is silent except for the rapid thumping of her heart. She can hear Azzi’s breath behind her, but it’s not just the usual trust that pushes her forward. It’s the weight of everything they’ve been avoiding.

She takes the shot and misses.

The ball clanks off the rim, and the rebound is grabbed by the opposing team. Paige curses under her breath. Azzi is right there, helping to get the ball back, but she avoids making eye contact. It’s not just the play that’s off—it’s them.

The rest of the game blurs by in a series of moments that Paige struggles to remember. Her shots are missed, her passes too quick. And every time she looks at Azzi, there’s something cold in her expression. Something unresolved. Something she can’t quite place. By the final quarter, they’re trailing. Their team is losing. The tension on the court is palpable, but it’s the tension between Paige and Azzi that’s the most obvious. There’s no more pretending, no more side glances or lingering touches. They’re too far apart now—physically and emotionally.

Geno calls a timeout. The players gather around, but Paige finds herself standing alone at the edge of the huddle. She watches Azzi, who is talking with one of the other players, her back to Paige. The distance between them is undeniable. They were so close—just yesterday, they were standing in the locker room, saying things that felt like breakthroughs. But now, with the game slipping away, the cracks in their connection seem to widen.

Azzi catches her eye briefly, and Paige feels that familiar pang in her chest. There’s so much she wants to say, but the words are lost.

The game ends with a loss. It’s not just the scoreboard that’s heavy—it’s the way the team scatters after the buzzer sounds. The air in the locker room feels thick, suffocating. Paige sits on the bench, trying to catch her breath, but she can’t shake the feeling that something inside her has been broken. She looks around, but the other players are talking, laughing—disappointed, yes, but moving on. The disappointment is still there, but it’s not the only thing in the air. What hangs over Paige now is much darker.

Azzi hasn’t said a word to her.

When she looks over, she sees Azzi by the door, pulling on her hoodie and grabbing her bag. She’s already halfway out the door when Paige stands up, suddenly feeling the urgency to speak.

“Azzi, wait!” Paige calls out, her voice shaky, but louder than she intended.

Azzi stops, her back to Paige, her shoulders stiff. There’s a long pause, the weight of everything between them settling like a stone in the pit of Paige’s stomach. Finally, Azzi turns around, her expression guarded.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Azzi says, her voice raw, almost too quiet. “I thought we were past all of this. But it feels like we’re both still pretending. We’re pretending to be fine, pretending like things are normal, but it’s not. I can’t do that anymore, Paige.” Paige’s heart clenches. She wants to say something, wants to explain everything, but the words don’t come. She’s been so focused on trying to prove something—on trying to make everything work—that she’s forgotten that sometimes the only thing that matters is honesty.

Azzi’s eyes are filled with something Paige can’t place. Frustration, maybe. Or sadness. But there’s something else there, too—fear. Fear that Paige isn’t ready to admit.

“I’m not pretending anymore either,” Paige says, her voice steady but filled with an edge of desperation. “I thought I could figure this out, I thought I could make it work, but I know now that I don’t have all the answers. But I want to try, Azzi. I want to make this real.”

Azzi’s gaze softens, but only slightly. “I don’t know if I can trust that anymore.”

Paige steps forward, the urgency in her movements almost frantic now. “Please, don’t walk away. Not now. We’ve come this far.”

Azzi takes a deep breath, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she just shakes her head, her eyes closing for a moment as if trying to gather herself. Finally, she looks back at Paige, her expression still guarded.

“I need space,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. And with that, she turns and walks away.

The days after the game are a blur. The team recovers from their loss, but Paige’s loss is much more personal. Azzi hasn’t spoken to her. There’s a cold distance that has settled between them, one that Paige doesn’t know how to bridge. She tries to give Azzi the space she’s asked for, but it feels like the space between them grows wider with every passing day. Practice is awkward. Paige and Azzi barely make eye contact. The team keeps their distance, too, sensing the tension in the air. Paige feels like she’s walking on eggshells, unsure of what to say or do. She can feel the weight of her mistakes. She’s been too caught up in the idea of making things work that she’s forgotten the one thing she needs to do—be real. She knows it’s not too late. There’s always time to make things right. But how? Azzi’s voice echoes in her mind: “I need space.”

And Paige is left alone, wondering if she’s let the one thing she truly wanted slip through her fingers.

Days pass in the aftermath of the game, and the tension between Paige and Azzi lingers, unspoken and unresolved. Despite their shared history, despite everything they’ve been through, it feels as though they’ve both become strangers. They’ve built something so real, so fragile, and now it seems like it’s unraveling before their eyes. The team is pushing forward, getting ready for the next big challenge, but Paige’s mind isn’t on the game—it’s on Azzi, and the overwhelming fear that maybe it’s all slipping away.

The next few days are filled with a quiet desperation. Paige tries to focus during practice, but every move she makes on the court feels like a reminder of the distance between them. The passes are too quick, the shots miss their mark. She’s distracted, unfocused, and every time she looks to Azzi, the coldness in her eyes makes her chest ache. One afternoon, after a particularly tough practice, Paige can’t take it anymore. She’s frustrated—frustrated with herself, with the situation, with everything that’s been left unsaid. She doesn’t know how to fix it, but she knows she has to try. She has to do something.

As the gym empties out and the last of the teammates head to the locker room, Paige lingers, waiting for the one person she needs to talk to. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Azzi steps into the gym, her expression unreadable. She doesn’t see Paige at first, her eyes on the floor as she walks toward the exit. But Paige can’t let her slip away—not this time.

“Azzi,” Paige calls, her voice tentative but steady.

Azzi pauses, her shoulders stiffening at the sound of her name. Slowly, she turns around. Their eyes meet, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s something in Azzi’s gaze that makes Paige believe there’s still a chance. They stand there in silence for a few moments, the weight of everything that’s happened hanging between them. Paige wants to say everything, but she knows the words won’t come easily. This isn’t just about fixing things—it’s about finding a way forward.

Azzi breaks the silence first, her voice quiet but full of emotion. “I’ve been thinking a lot,” she admits, her eyes softening. “About everything. About what you said—about us. And I realized something: I can’t keep running away from this. From you. From what we have.” Paige feels a surge of hope, a flicker of something deep inside her. She takes a step forward, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to run away either. I’ve been scared—scared that I’d mess everything up, scared that I wasn’t enough. But I know now, I know that I want this. I want us, Azzi. I don’t really know how to make it work yet, but I want to try. I want to fight for it.” Azzi’s gaze softens, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world falls away. The noise of the gym, the pressure of the game—they all disappear, leaving just the two of them. Azzi steps forward, closing the distance between them, her eyes never leaving Paige’s.

“You don’t have to have all the answers,” Azzi says softly, her hand reaching out to gently touch Paige’s arm. “We’ll figure it out. Together.” In that moment, Paige feels a sense of peace she hasn’t felt in days. Maybe they don’t have all the answers. Maybe they don’t even know what the future holds. But what matters is that they’re here, in this moment, and they’re choosing each other. Azzi’s hand lingers on her arm for just a second before she takes a deep breath. “We still have a lot to figure out,” she says, the smallest smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “But I’m willing to try.” Paige smiles back, her heart racing. “Me too.”

For the first time in what feels like ages, the weight that’s been hanging over them lifts, if only for a moment. There’s still a long road ahead, full of unknowns, but this is the first step. They’ve both come to terms with what they feel—and with the fact that they can’t pretend anymore. They can’t pretend that things are perfect, but they can work through the mess. Together.

The next few weeks pass in a blur of practice, games, and quiet moments shared between Paige and Azzi. They aren’t perfect—not by any means—but they’re real. They’ve stopped pretending that everything is okay when it’s not, and they’ve stopped hiding behind their fears. Every conversation they have now is raw, honest, and, for the first time in a long time, there’s a sense of peace between them. The tension on the court begins to ease. They start to trust each other again, not just as teammates, but as something more.

There are moments when their eyes meet during a play, and they know exactly what the other is thinking. There’s an unspoken connection between them that’s stronger than any game plan. The next big game arrives, and it’s one of the most important of the season. Paige and Azzi are ready—not just for the game, but for whatever comes next. They’ve put everything on the line, and the only thing they know for sure is that they’re in this together.

As the buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game, Paige and Azzi are victorious. But the win isn’t just about the scoreboard—it’s about the journey they’ve been on together, the way they’ve faced their fears and their doubts. And in that moment, they both realize something: they’ve come out stronger. Together.

As the season winds down, Paige and Azzi find themselves in a new place. They’re still figuring things out, but they’ve found a new kind of rhythm—one built on trust, vulnerability, and the willingness to face their fears together.

There’s still a long road ahead, filled with challenges, but for the first time in a long time, Paige doesn’t feel like she’s walking alone. She knows that whatever happens, they’ll face it together. They don’t have all the answers yet, but they’re ready to keep moving forward, side by side.

And maybe that’s the most important part of all.

[stethosc0pe]

I adored harker x langdon!! How would she react to learning frank calls her “the wife” even though they’re not engaged?

waiting for a woman like you

frank langdon x goth!reader little oneshot that can be read with or without Like I Used To

wc: 1.4k

content/warnings: canon typical gore, blood, fluff, established relationship, cutesy, commitment issues, just a drabble in between bigger chapters ;)

a/n: I AM NOT A DOCTOR SORRY FOR ANY MEDICAL INACCURACIES!! thank you for your request, i loved writing it ;)

hopefully no exclusionary language (no mention of hair texture, skin color, weight or height) and all my readers are bisexual even if not explicitly stated!

Today in the Pitt, things are fast. Patients come and go fast. People die fast. Your lunch break goes fast.

It’s the type of day where patients are in the hallway until they can get a room. If they can get a room. Okay, most of the time they don’t get a room.

But! Like a door to heaven, you watch a man in a cast walk out the door with his care instructions in hand, and like so, a bed is empty. You take a woman who’d been in a car crash into the room.

She’s around your age, and she’s already had some glass picked out of her arm in triage. The seatbelt did its job, but is starting to leave a nasty bruise around her shoulder and where it rested across her chest.

‘Hey. I’m Doctor Y/N Harker. I’m gonna start to check you out okay?’ You need to palpate her chest to check for out of place ribs. And she needs a CT scan and bloodwork and probably pain meds and…

‘Thank you. My hero.’ She smiles gratefully at you, and you give a small one back while you draw the curtain that separates the smaller rooms.

You ask her for a brief rundown of what happened and her symptoms. She tells you all about the wreck, and how she’d been throttled around in the midst of it.

While you listen to her lungs, she says, ‘Um— my head hurts? Do you think I have a concussion?’

‘Any nausea, vomiting?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Sensitivity to light?’

‘A little.’

‘You might. We’ll have to get some scans done for that, so I’ll order one.’ You sling your stethoscope back around your neck and let your hands hang from it on either side.

‘You’re Dr. Langdon’s wife, right? He pointed you out to me earlier, when I was stuck in the hallway. You seemed busy.’

‘Yes, very busy. But, uh—‘ You huff softly, like you don’t understand where she got this information, ‘—We’re just dating. Not married.’

‘Really? Sorry. I didn’t mean to, like, assume…’

‘Oh, no, totally fine. Don’t worry about it. Just— did he say that to you?’ Your voice goes up an entire octave at the end. You can’t help it.

‘Yeah. He asked about the crash, and we were just small talking— and then, I said Are you my doctor?, and he pointed to you and said No, not me. But see the angry one right there? That’s my wife, she’s great.’

You scoff, ‘We’re not even engaged.’

‘Oh. Does he know that?’

‘God, I hope so.’ Your brow creases in worry, the patient laughs a little and you snap back to the task at hand, ‘Right, let’s get you in a wheelchair and down to imaging.’

-

As you round a corner, you see a blur of black scrubs and brown hair walk past you. He doesn’t see you, he’s got his back to you. Perfect.

You walk closely behind him and grab ahold of the neck of his scrubs and pull him back with… medium force, like a cat scruffing a kitten. You don’t actually want to hurt him. But scaring him, that you don’t mind. He was walking freely before so, the collar chokes him for a second until he bounces back with wide eyes and turns around to find you, less than pleased.

‘Oh, hey. My wonderful and non-violent girlfriend. Yeah, I have a second to talk. Thanks for asking nicely.’ He complains, pulling his scrubs back to normal.

‘Have you been telling people we’re married?’ You cross your arms over your chest, indifferent to his whining.

‘…No.’ He huffs and lies. He’s an okay liar, but you can tell. Well, technically it’s not actually a lie? Technically… he never said those… exact words.

‘Okay, let me ask you a more specific question. Are you referring to me as your wife?’

‘Umm...’ He scratches the back of his neck like he’s guilty.

‘What the fuck?’ You throw your arms up.

‘On occasion.’

‘Frank.’

‘Stay calm!’

‘Frank!’ You scold. Somehow the glare gets sharper.

‘What?’ He whines, indignant. ‘I thought that would be endearing to you!’

He’s got this dejected look on his face. Mouth open a bit in a frown and ready to argue, like you’ve rained all over his parade. You grasp him softly by his upper arms.

‘Honey, I love you. You obviously don’t have to work very hard to endear yourself to me,’ He brings his hands up to touch the bottom of your arms that hold him. You are in a less than ideal fork in the road, and he’s being given a soft warning, but it doesn’t stop him from reciprocating touch, ‘But I don’t wanna be known as your wife. I don’t want people to know me as Frank’s wife. Especially not my colleagues and patients. I want to be Harker. For my whole career.’

‘You don’t have to take my last name.’ Frank shrugs.

‘Honey, that was never on the table.’

‘Do you have any flexibility? On anything? Ever?’

‘Upon request.’

‘I’m requesting.’

‘Fresh out.’

He rolls his eyes, ���Go away. I’m working.’

You ball your fist into the shoulder of his shirt so he can’t walk away from you. You hush your voice so only he can hear it.

‘If you keep calling me wife, I’m going to start telling people—patients and coworkers alike— that yes, we are engaged, and it’s a lavender marriage.’

He gawks at your audaciousness, a single, incredulous, amused huff bursting out of him. He smiles with an open mouth, and you soften a tiny bit. ‘You are insane.’ He says.

‘Yes.’

‘Couldn’t we hyphenate? Couldn’t you see me as a Doctor Langdon-Harker? That’s six syllables. It’s so long and obnoxious. I like it.’

He’s talking like he’s wholly unfazed by the concept of being bound together legally and socially. This is not something you’re familiar with. You never thought you’d be getting married. Sharing a bank account—in this case, with a man— seems all too stressful, and you the last thing you want is to be anyone’s housewife.

You’re a working woman. But you are starting to think about it now. That maybe… because he’s a doctor too, it’ll be easy. You won’t be expected to stay at home and cook and clean and be disgustingly traditional. He knows you’d never go for that, and he seems to still want it.

You let his shirt go, but you stay in each others personal space.

‘You actually want to marry me?’

‘That’s the plan.’ He smooths out his scrub top, lightly perturbed, for the second time today, ‘And what do you have against my shirt? God.’

You look him up and down. You sigh. You suppose… at the end of the day… maybe… this could be sweet.

‘Do you know what dress you’re gonna wear, or…?’ You ask, still having not broken your irritated demeanor. But he can read you. You’re trying to change the subject. He just smiles.

‘Ugh! I’ll think about it.’ The hyphenation, you mean. Definitely, definitely, not marriage yet. Fuck, you hope he can read between the lines there. He’s smart.

Right?

‘Music to my ears, Harker-Langdon.’

‘It’s like you have no survival instinct.’

-

Later that day

To you, Frank is doing a shitty job with the sponge stick. You still can’t see what you’re doing inside this man’s throat with all the red. And you’re still annoyed at him.

‘Oh, my god, sponge better, asshole!’

‘I am! Asshole!’

‘Hey, play nice? At least while you’re inside a dying man?’ Says Robby from the sidelines, watching over the surgery.

Frank finds it to be an apt time to joke, filling precious time with unnecessary comments. ‘Oh! Don’t worry, she can smell the grim reaper from a mile out. Honey, do it!’

You ignore him.

‘He’s not gonna die.’ You scold nobody in particular, being fed up with talking to men for the day. You look up at Robby for a second through your clear glasses, ‘Your pseudo-son will if he doesn’t let me do what I need to do.’

‘You might be in the doghouse tonight, son.’ Robby says to Frank as he walks around him to your side, trying to get a better view.

Frank sighs.

‘I’m always in the doghouse.’

‘No, he’s not.’ You assure your attending, ‘He just particularly responds to this tone of voice.’

Frank Langdon has nothing to say to that. Probably because it’s true.

‘Can one of you call off the wedding? Get cold feet? Cuz’ this is becoming unprofessional.’ Robby half-jokes. Oh, good. So he’d already told your boss that you’re engaged before you could get to him.

‘Frank!’

Frank is too used to the call of his name to have a visible reaction.

‘It’s been unprofessional, Robby.’

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[lila-lou]

✨Double Trouble✨

Summary: Christmas in the bunker was supposed to be quiet. With the twins finally in bed, Dean and you were ready to enjoy a little “grown-up time”. But as always with these two, nothing went as planned.

-Christmas Special-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 9734

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. ❤️

The bunker was quiet, the kind of quiet that only came on Christmas Eve when all the excitement of the day had simmered into the promise of tomorrow. You should’ve known better than to trust your five-year-old twins, Ellie and Jake, to stay in bed. But Dean had insisted, grinning ear-to-ear, that they’d be too tired from all the snowball fights and cookie decorating to cause any mischief.

Apparently, that grin lied.

You were leaning against the counter in the kitchen, enjoying the brief silence. The soft glow of the string lights you’d hung around the bunker shimmered faintly, casting a warm, cozy light over the room. It was moments like these—rare, fleeting moments—that made everything else worth it. The chaos, the hunting, the danger. This was home.

Dean walked in quietly, brushing flour off his dark flannel, his hair slightly disheveled. He still had that boyish grin, the one that had charmed you all those years ago and hadn’t lost its effect. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there for a moment, watching you. You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his gaze making your cheeks flush.

“Hey,”, he said softly, his voice warm, as he crossed the kitchen toward you.

“Hey yourself”, you replied, smiling at him as he closed the distance between you.

“You look too calm”, he teased, resting a hand on the counter beside you and leaning in slightly. “Makes me think you’re plotting something”.

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. “For once, no. Just enjoying the quiet while it lasts”.

Dean smirked, his other hand slipping around your waist. “Quiet doesn’t last long around here. Might as well make the most of it”.

Before you could reply, he leaned in and kissed you, soft at first, then deeper, his lips warm and familiar. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer, and the tension of the day melted away in an instant. For a moment, it was just the two of you—no monsters, no apocalypse-level threats, no five-year-old twins who could rival Sam and Dean in sheer determination. Just you and him.

You smiled against his lips when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “What’s that for?”, you whispered, still feeling the warmth of him surrounding you.

Dean shrugged, though his smirk deepened. “Do I need a reason to kiss my wife?”.

“Guess not”, you murmured, sliding your hands up to rest on his shoulders. “Not that I’m complaining”.

“Better not”, he teased, his tone light. “Otherwise, I’ll have to—”.

Before he could finish, the sound of not-so-stealthy giggling reached you both from the hallway. Dean pulled back slightly, frowning in mock annoyance. “You hear that?”, he whispered, though the twinkle in his eye gave him away.

“I hear it”, you replied, sighing as you glanced toward the doorway. “And I think I know exactly who it is”.

Dean smirked, his hands still resting on your waist. “Think we should let ‘em sweat it out, or should we just go ahead and bust them?”.

“Let’s see how far they’re willing to take this”, you said, grinning as you leaned against him.

Before either of you could move, Ellie’s little blonde head peeked around the corner, quickly followed by Jake’s. They froze when they realized they’d been caught, their identical green eyes wide with a mixture of guilt and amusement.

“Uh-oh”, Jake whispered, elbowing his sister. “Run?”.

Ellie shook her head, whispering back loudly, “No, we gotta play it cool!”.

Dean chuckled, letting his hands drop as he turned toward the doorway. “Alright, you two little troublemakers”, he said, his voice carrying just enough mock sternness to make them squirm. “What are you doing out of bed?”.

Ellie straightened her spine, clearly deciding to be the spokesperson for their operation. “We were just… making sure Santa didn’t need any help”, she said, her small chin lifting with determination.

Jake nodded vigorously. “Yeah, ‘cause, you know, Christmas is important”.

Dean raised an eyebrow, glancing at you as he leaned back against the counter. The corners of his mouth twitched as he tried not to laugh. “Uh-huh. And what’s so important about sneaking through the bunker in the middle of the night?”.

Ellie’s confidence faltered just slightly, and Jake’s gaze darted to the floor. They exchanged a quick, silent sibling look before Ellie blurted out, “We were looking for presents!”.

Dean groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face, though the twinkle in his eye gave him away. “Of course you were. You two are worse than I was at your age”.

“Got that right”. you muttered under your breath, earning a smirk from him.

“Did you find anything?”, Dean asked, crouching slightly to look them in the eye.

“Nooo”, Jake admitted, dragging out the word. “But we did see you kissing Mom, so… ew”.

Ellie wrinkled her nose in agreement. “So gross”.

You chuckled, rolling your eyes at the twins. They were a whirlwind of mischief wrapped in innocence, and as much as they drove you and Dean crazy, you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Ellie and Jake padded into the kitchen, their tiny feet barely making a sound against the bunker’s cool floor. Their sheepish grins betrayed their earlier bravado, and you were just about to send them back to bed when another figure appeared in the doorway.

Sam.

He looked like he had just fallen out of bed, his hair a mess, and his flannel pajamas slightly askew. His face carried the same half-annoyed, half-amused expression he always wore when dealing with his niece and nephew’s antics.

“Let me guess”, Sam said, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. “The dynamic duo strikes again?”.

Dean smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. “What gave it away, Sammy? The giggling or the fact that it’s two in the morning?”.

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “I was hoping they’d finally give you guys a break. Especially after the sugar high they’ve been on all day”.

Jake piped up, “We weren’t doing anything bad, Uncle Sam!”.

Ellie nodded in agreement, tugging on Sam’s sleeve as if to convince him. “Yeah! We were just making sure Santa’s okay!”.

Sam raised an eyebrow, looking down at them skeptically. “Uh-huh. And you thought Santa was hiding in the bunker kitchen?”.

Dean snorted, clearly enjoying the show. “Give ‘em some credit, Sammy. At least they’re committed”.

Meanwhile, Sam’s son, Caleb, was notably absent, which didn’t escape Dean’s notice. “And where’s the little angel?”, Dean asked, glancing behind Sam. “Still tucked in, dreaming about saving kittens or whatever perfect kids dream about?”.

Sam rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a smirk. “He’s asleep, like a normal kids. Not wandering around trying to play detective”.

“Pfft”, Dean said, waving a dismissive hand. “He’s just too scared to get caught. These two? Fearless”.

Ellie beamed at the backhanded compliment, while Jake puffed out his chest, clearly proud of their escapade. You shook your head, stepping in before they got any more ideas.

“Alright, enough”, you said firmly, placing your hands on your hips. “Ellie, Jake, back to bed. Now”.

“But Moooom!”, they whined in unison, dragging out the word as though it might change your mind.

Dean, however, backed you up, straightening to his full height and putting on his best stern-dad face. “Don’t ‘but Mom’ her. Get your butts in bed before Santa really skips over the bunker”.

The twins’ eyes widened, and Ellie clutched Jake’s arm. “He won’t skip us, will he?”, she asked, her voice tinged with panic.

“That depends on how fast you get to bed”, Dean replied, pointing toward the hallway.

That was all it took. They scurried out of the kitchen, their little footsteps echoing down the hall as they whispered frantically about whether Santa had heard them.

Once they were gone, the silence returned, broken only by the low hum of the bunker’s lights. Sam chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You guys have your hands full”.

Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, you could’ve had twins too, but nooo, you got lucky with Mr. Perfect”.

Sam smirked. “Caleb’s not perfect, he’s just… well-behaved”.

Dean shot him a mock glare. “Same thing. Next time, send him over here. Maybe some of that ‘well-behaved’ will rub off”.

“Doubt it”, Sam said dryly.

Just as Sam turned to head back to his room, the sound of tiny, pattering footsteps echoed back down the hall. You sighed, already knowing who it was before Ellie and Jake reappeared in the doorway, their little faces full of a mix of defiance and something you recognized as an attempt at innocence.

Sam stopped in his tracks and turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t you two just get sent to bed?”.

Ellie, clutching her favorite stuffed animal—a well-loved bunny missing one ear—padded straight toward you. “Mommy, we can’t sleep”, she said softly, her green eyes wide and pleading as she held out her little hands toward you.

Jake nodded behind her, trying to look equally earnest, though his mischievous smirk ruined the act. “Yeah, we need another story. Just one more”.

Sam let out a low snort, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. “I’ll say it again—you guys have your hands full”.

Dean groaned, running a hand over his face, though you could see the small, fond smile tugging at his lips. “You two are the worst negotiators ever”, he said, though there was no real heat in his tone. “Didn’t we read you a story already?”.

Ellie nodded solemnly. “But it wasn’t enough”, she said, her little voice trembling like she was delivering the most heartbreaking news. “I can’t sleep”.

Ellie had been having trouble sleeping the past few nights, and it didn’t take much to see the shadows of her recent restlessness in the way she clung to you now. Jake, you suspected, was just along for the ride, but Ellie’s unease was genuine.

You knelt down and gently scooped Ellie up, settling her on your hip with ease. She wrapped her little arms around your neck and rested her head against your shoulder, her well-loved bunny clutched tightly in one hand. She was already five, and you knew these moments wouldn’t last forever. Soon enough, she’d be too big to carry like this, but for now, you held her close, savoring her warmth and the soft scent of her shampoo.

“It’s okay, baby”, you murmured, running a hand soothingly over her back. “Mommy’s got you”.

Ellie sighed, her tiny body relaxing against yours. “I don’t wanna have bad dreams”, she whispered, her voice trembling.

Dean’s teasing expression softened instantly, and he stepped closer, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Ellie’s face. “No bad dreams tonight, kiddo”, he said gently. “You’re safe here. Nothing’s getting past me and your mom, okay?”.

Ellie nodded but didn’t lift her head, snuggling further into your shoulder. You kissed the top of her head and glanced at Jake, who stood nearby with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his pajama pants, looking both sheepish and protective.

“And you, mister”, you said, giving Jake a soft smile, “are you here to keep your sister company?”.

Jake shrugged, his little smirk reappearing. “She doesn’t like being alone”, he admitted. “And I didn’t want her to cry”.

Dean chuckled, ruffling Jake’s hair. “Good man”, he said. “But you’re still going back to bed after this story”.

Jake rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, his smirk growing as he stepped closer to rest his hand on your arm, as if to reassure Ellie without saying anything.

Sam, who had been leaning silently against the doorway, let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “You’re raising a couple of night owls, you know that?”.

Dean shot him a mock glare. “Yeah, thanks for the observation, Mr. Perfect-Kid. You can go back to your room now”.

“Gladly”, Sam replied with a smirk, pushing off the doorway. “Good luck with bedtime round two. Merry Christmas”.

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Sam”, Jake called after him, earning another chuckle from Sam as he disappeared down the hallway.

With Sam gone, Dean turned his attention back to you and the kids. He reached out and gently took Ellie from your arms, shifting her easily onto his hip as if she weighed nothing. She yawned and leaned her head against his shoulder, her bunny dangling from her fingers.

“Alright”, Dean said, his voice soft but firm. “One more story. But that’s it. No excuses this time. Deal?”.

Ellie nodded, her fingers clutching the collar of Dean’s flannel. “Deal”, she mumbled.

Jake gave a little salute, his smirk still intact. “Deal”.

Dean shot you a knowing look, his lips twitching in a half-smile. “You coming, or do I have to tell this story solo?”.

“I’m coming”, you said, laughing softly as you followed them back to the kids’ room. Jake scampered ahead, already climbing into his bed and pulling the covers up to his chin. Dean sat down on the edge of Ellie’s bed, still holding her as she blinked sleepily up at him.

“What story tonight?”, Dean asked, his voice quieter now.

Ellie mumbled something about heroes again, her words barely audible, and Jake chimed in with, “And monsters! But the good guys win, like always”.

Dean smirked, glancing at you as you settled into the chair beside Ellie’s bed. “Heroes and monsters, huh? You kids are gonna grow up thinking hunting is some kind of fairy tale”.

“Not fairy tales”, Jake corrected, his grin wide. “Adventures”.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, adventures it is”. He adjusted Ellie in his lap, holding her close as he launched into one of his and Sam’s hunts—toned down, of course, with a few embellishments to make it sound like a grand, thrilling tale.

Ellie’s eyes grew heavier with every word, and Jake, though fighting it, began to yawn halfway through the story. By the time Dean finished, Ellie was fast asleep, her bunny tucked under her chin, and Jake was dozing, his head resting on his pillow.

Dean carefully laid Ellie down and pulled the blanket up around her, tucking her in snugly before standing. You leaned over to press a kiss to Jake’s forehead, smoothing his hair back gently.

The next morning, you stirred slightly, still wrapped in the warmth of the bed and the familiar weight of Dean’s arm draped across your waist. You were half-asleep, lost in the haze of early morning, when you felt the soft brush of lips against your cheek.

Dean was awake.

His kisses started gentle, barely brushing against your skin, before growing more deliberate. His lips moved from your cheek to your jawline, lingering there for a moment, warm and lazy. His scruff tickled slightly as his mouth trailed down to the curve of your neck. A soft, open-mouthed kiss followed, the heat of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Morning”, he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with sleep.

You made a small sound in response, still too drowsy to form words. Dean chuckled softly, the deep rumble vibrating through his chest as his hand began to move, sliding slowly down from your waist to the hem of the shirt you were wearing—his old, worn AC/DC shirt that barely grazed mid-thigh.

His fingers brushed against the fabric lightly, teasingly, before slipping just underneath, grazing your bare skin. His touch was warm, deliberate, and achingly slow as his hand traveled along your hip.

“Dean…”, you mumbled, your voice still groggy but laced with amusement and warmth.

“Hm?”, he replied, his lips pressing another lazy kiss just below your ear. “Kids are still asleep. We’ve got time”.

You smiled faintly, your eyes still closed as you leaned into his touch. “Barely. They’ll be up in an hour”.

“An hour’s plenty”, he murmured, his hand sliding further under the shirt as his lips found your neck again, kissing a little more firmly this time. His thumb traced gentle circles against your hip, the touch soothing and tantalizing all at once.

You turned your head slightly, your nose brushing against his. “You’re really risking it, Winchester”.

Dean grinned, his mouth brushing yours in a kiss that was as playful as it was intimate. “Worth the risk”, he said, his voice low and teasing. “Besides, it’s Christmas. Can’t I wake my wife up with a little holiday cheer?”.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, finally opening your eyes to see his face inches from yours. His green eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint, his smile equal parts boyish charm and devilish intent.

“You’re impossible”, you said, your voice carrying no real conviction as you reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair.

“And yet”, he replied, his grin widening as his hand skimmed up your thigh, “you love me anyway”.

“Lucky for you”, you teased, pulling him down into a kiss.

Dean’s smirk deepened as he shifted himself between your legs, the soft fabric of his sweatpants already discarded on the floor. His movements were unhurried, his hands warm and steady as they slid along your thighs, gently spreading them apart. The teasing, deliberate way he pulled your panties aside made your breath hitch, his knuckles grazing your skin as he moved.

He leaned down, his forehead brushing yours, his lips hovering just a breath away as he locked eyes with you. His green eyes gleamed with a mix of mischief and tenderness, the corners crinkling slightly as he grinned.

“Attempt number three for baby number three?”, he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His swollen tip brushed against your folds, the sensation sending a shiver through your body. He paused, grinning even wider as he added, “Or should I just wrap myself up? Merry Christmas and all”.

You snorted softly, shaking your head against the pillow. "You're ridiculous", you mumbled, your voice still thick with sleep, but the corner of your lips twitched in amusement.

Dean's grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew wider. He nudged against you with his tip, teasingly brushing against your folds, just enough to make your breath hitch. His hands rested firmly on your thighs, his thumbs brushing against your skin in slow, lazy circles.

"You better answer", he murmured, his voice low and thick with that familiar playful edge, "or I’ll decide for myself". He dipped his head, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear. "And as you know", he added, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I hate being wrapped up".

A soft laugh bubbled from your lips, your hands sliding to his shoulders as you looked up at him, your gaze warm despite the teasing frustration in your tone. "Oh, poor you", you said, your fingers curling slightly against his skin. "Such a hardship".

Dean chuckled, his lips grazing your collarbone as he pressed closer, his weight settling against you in that perfect, familiar way. "Yeah, it is", he muttered, his tone mock-serious. He nudged against you again, this time with a bit more pressure, his breath hitching slightly as he felt you respond.

"Dean", you whispered, your voice soft but filled with equal parts exasperation and affection.

He rested his forehead against yours, his voice softer now as he murmured, "So, what’s it gonna be? Option one or option two?".

You sighed dramatically, though the smile tugging at your lips gave you away. "Fine", you said, your hands sliding to rest on his lower back. "Let’s try for number three".

Dean’s grin widened, and he pressed another kiss to your lips, this one filled with both triumph and affection. "That’s my girl".

Dean’s grin softened as he aligned himself, his eyes locked on yours, searching your face as if committing every detail to memory. Slowly, deliberately, he pressed forward, his swollen tip parting you with a gentle ease. His movements were unhurried, savoring the moment as he sunk deeper, a quiet grunt escaping his lips.

His forehead rested against yours, his breaths mingling with yours, warm and steady. He paused for a moment, giving you time to adjust, his hand sliding up your thigh to rest on your hip, his thumb brushing tender circles against your skin. Then, his lips found yours again, capturing them in a kiss that was both soft and consuming, filled with a love that ran deeper than words.

Your hands moved to his back, your fingers curling against his warm skin as he began to move, his hips rocking in a slow, deliberate rhythm. His quiet groans mixed with your soft gasps, the two of you melting into each other in the quiet stillness of the morning. His lips stayed on yours, sometimes breaking away to trail kisses along your jaw or murmur your name in that low, gravelly voice that always made your heart flutter.

Dean’s hand slid from your hip to lace his fingers with yours, pinning your hand gently beside your head as his pace remained slow and steady. He kissed you again, his lips lingering this time, his breath catching slightly as he pressed deeper, his movements careful yet filled with passion.

Dean’s movements were deliberate, his hips rocking against you with a rhythm that was uniquely his—something so unhurried yet devastatingly precise. It wasn’t rushed or frantic; it was intimate, passionate, and filled with a kind of love and care that only Dean could give. Each thrust was measured, purposeful, his body moving with yours as though the two of you had been perfectly designed to fit together.

You felt his breath against your skin, warm and steady, as his lips traced a path along your jawline and down your neck. His low groans vibrated against your skin, sending waves of warmth coursing through you. He tilted his hips slightly, the angle changing just enough to send sparks of pleasure radiating from your core. Dean’s name fell from your lips in a breathless gasp, and his mouth curved into a grin against your neck.

“Right there, huh?”, he murmured, his voice husky and low, as his movements became more deliberate. He hit that perfect spot again, and your back arched off the bed, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly. It was maddening how he could find it every time, how he knew your body so intimately after all these years.

Dean pulled back just enough to look at you, his green eyes blazing with intensity as he watched your reactions. “You’re so beautiful like this”, he whispered, his lips brushing yours. “Every time. Always”.

The way he said it, the raw honesty in his voice, made your chest tighten with emotion even as the pleasure built inside you, overwhelming and all-consuming. Your legs tightened around him instinctively, pulling him deeper, and he let out a quiet groan, his forehead pressing to yours as his hips rocked against you with just a little more force.

Dean’s grin widened, a flicker of pride flashing in his eyes as he felt your body respond to him, just like it always did. He knew exactly what he was doing, and his ego absolutely thrived on it. He never rushed, never stumbled—his confidence in how to handle you was unshakable, and it was maddeningly effective. He knew how to make you come, how to unravel you completely, and for him, it was almost too easy.

His hips pressed deeper, rolling against yours with deliberate precision, each thrust brushing that perfect spot inside you that had your breath catching and your nails digging into his shoulders. Dean’s quiet groans mixed with the soft sounds escaping your lips, and he couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his mouth.

“Look at you”, he murmured, his voice thick with a mix of teasing and reverence. “Already so close, aren’t you? Always so easy for me”. His words weren’t taunting—they were filled with a heady mix of love and cocky pride, the kind only Dean could pull off.

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, to come up with some smart remark, but all that came out was a broken gasp as his hips shifted slightly, hitting you even deeper. He chuckled softly, his lips trailing along your neck, leaving warm kisses in his wake.

“That’s right”, he whispered, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek as he kissed you deeply, swallowing the sounds you made. “Let go for me, sweetheart. I’ve got you”.

It wasn’t just his words or his touch—it was the way he looked at you, his green eyes locked on yours as though you were the only thing that existed in the world. It was the way he moved, deliberate and passionate, completely focused on you. It was everything about him, all at once, that pushed you over the edge.

Your body tightened around him, a cry escaping your lips as the orgasm crashed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

Dean’s hips stuttered slightly as as he worked you through it. His breathing grew heavier, his quiet groans vibrating against your skin as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He pressed deeper, his rhythm faltering as he gave in, a low, guttural sound escaping him as he spilled inside you.

The tension in his body melted away as he stilled, his forehead resting against your shoulder. His chest heaved against yours, his warm breath tickling your skin as he whispered your name, almost reverently. He stayed like that for a moment, his weight comforting and grounding, his hand lazily brushing along your side.

Slowly, he lifted his head, his green eyes soft as they found yours. His lips curved into a tired but satisfied grin, the kind that was uniquely Dean—equal parts smug and adoring.

“Now that”, he said, his voice still rough with lingering passion, “was a hell of a way to start Christmas”.

You couldn’t help the breathless laugh that bubbled up, your hands sliding to rest against his shoulders. “And here I thought the kids opening presents was supposed to be the highlight of the day”.

Dean smirked, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, this one slow and sweet, a stark contrast to the fire from moments before. “They can wait”, he murmured against your mouth, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “This is my highlight”.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “You’re impossible, Winchester”.

“And yet”, he teased, grinning as he kissed you again, “you still married me”.

The two of you were still tangled in the quiet aftermath, basking in the warmth of each other, when the sound of Sam’s frustrated voice carried down the hallway.

“Ellie! Jake!”, Sam’s tone was exasperated, yet with that trademark calmness he always managed to maintain, even in chaos. “How many times do I have to tell you—stop hiding my toothbrush!”.

Dean groaned, dropping his head back against the pillow with a dramatic sigh. “And there goes the peace”, he muttered, though his smirk said he wasn’t entirely annoyed.

You stifled a laugh, pressing your hand over your mouth as Sam’s voice grew closer, clearly still trying to track down the culprits. “What do you think the odds are that they’ll deny it this time?”, you asked, raising an amused eyebrow.

Dean chuckled, sitting up slightly to rest on his elbows. “Oh, they’ll deny it. And then Jake’ll throw Ellie under the bus”.

Before you could reply, another voice joined the commotion in the hallway—Caleb’s, Sam’s ten-year-old son. “Dad!”, Caleb called, his tone half-annoyed, half-panicked. “I can’t find my toothbrush either! Did they take mine too?”.

Dean let out a full laugh now, shaking his head as he glanced over at you. “Well, guess we know what they’ve been up to”.

You snorted, sliding out from under the blanket and reaching for the nearest shirt—still Dean’s, of course. “Should we intervene, or let Sam handle it?”.

Dean leaned back lazily, folding his arms behind his head, his smirk wide. “Let him handle it. He’s got this”.

The sound of Ellie and Jake’s giggling reached your ears next, along with Sam’s resigned sigh. “Guys, this is the third time this week. I need my toothbrush. And Caleb needs his, too. Just tell me where you hid them”.

Ellie’s voice piped up, cheerful and completely unrepentant. “We didn’t hide it, Uncle Sam! Maybe the monsters took it”.

Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his sweatpants as he grinned at you. “Guess I should go rescue Sammy before he loses it completely”.

You laughed, grabbing his arm before he could get up. “You’ll just make it worse, and you know it”.

“Exactly”, Dean said, his grin widening. “What’s Christmas without a little chaos?”.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling as the sound of the kids’ laughter and Sam’s exasperated attempts to rein them in filled the bunker. It was chaotic, sure, but it was also home.

Dean swung the bedroom door open, stepping out into the hallway wearing nothing but his sweatpants. His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions, and his smirk was firmly in place as he leaned against the doorframe. His bare chest caught the dim light of the bunker, and his presence immediately drew the attention of everyone in the hallway.

Sam stood there, arms crossed, his expression a mix of exasperation and long-suffering patience. Ellie and Jake were huddled together just a few feet away, their faces plastered with matching innocent grins that Dean could see through in an instant. Caleb, already taller and more composed than most ten-year-olds, stood off to the side with his hands on his hips, looking equally annoyed and amused.

Dean raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening as his eyes landed on his twins. “Alright”, he drawled, his voice still rough from sleep. “Who’s messing with Uncle Sammy’s toothbrush this time?”.

Ellie giggled, clutching her bunny closer to her chest as she tried to look innocent. “Not me!”, she chirped, her tone far too cheerful to be convincing.

Jake, true to Dean’s earlier prediction, pointed at Ellie without hesitation. “She did it!”, he declared, his voice a little too eager. “I told her not to, but she wouldn’t listen”.

“Jake!”, Ellie squeaked, her eyes wide with mock betrayal. “That’s not true!”.

Dean sighted, running a hand through his messy hair as he stepped closer.

Jake pouted, crossing his arms. “I didn’t do it! It was her idea this time!”.

Caleb groaned, clearly fed up with the entire situation. “I just want my toothbrush back”, he muttered, looking at his cousins with a raised eyebrow. “You can’t keep stealing them!”.

Sam shot Dean a pointed look, his expression screaming control your kids. Dean just grinned back, completely unfazed. “Alright, alright”, he said, holding up his hands. “Let’s cut a deal. You two”, he pointed at Ellie and Jake, “tell Uncle Sam and Caleb where the toothbrushes are, and maybe Santa doesn’t hear about this little stunt”.

Ellie’s eyes widened, and she clutched her bunny even tighter. “You wouldn’t tell Santa!”, she gasped, her voice full of dramatic disbelief.

Jake’s resolve faltered, and he glanced at Ellie before mumbling, “Fine. They’re in the cereal box”.

Sam blinked, his arms dropping to his sides. “The cereal box?”.

Dean laughed, shaking his head as he clapped Sam on the shoulder. “Gotta hand it to ‘em, Sammy. That’s creative”.

Sam just sighed, muttering something under his breath as he turned toward the kitchen. Caleb followed after him, shaking his head as he glanced back at his cousins. “You guys are so weird”, he said, though his tone was more amused than annoyed.

Dean crouched down to the twins’ level, his smirk softening into something more affectionate. “Alright, you two”, he said, his voice quieter. “What’s the deal with the toothbrush thing, huh? You trying to drive Uncle Sam crazy?”.

Ellie looked down at her bunny, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. “We were just playing”, she mumbled. “It was funny”.

Dean sighed, reaching out to ruffle her hair. “Yeah, it’s funny until Uncle Sam loses it and makes you scrub the bathroom for a week. You wanna deal with that?”.

Jake shook his head quickly, his eyes wide. “No”.

“Good”, Dean said, standing up and crossing his arms. “Now, go help him find them. And no more hiding stuff, got it?”.

“Yes, Daddy”, they chorused, their voices small but sincere.

Dean watched as they scampered off toward the kitchen, and he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. Turning back toward the bedroom, he caught your amused expression.

Dean’s grin widened when he saw you leaning against the doorframe, your messy hair and his AC/DC shirt hanging loosely on your frame. He gave you a once-over, then nodded toward the bathroom with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows.

“Wanna take a shower?”, he asked, his voice low and teasing, though the mischievous twinkle in his eye made it clear he wasn’t just talking about getting clean.

You were about to reply when Sam’s voice cut in sharply. “Nope. No way. You two aren’t disappearing on me right now”.

Dean turned slowly, raising an eyebrow as he looked over his shoulder at Sam, who was standing there with Caleb and the twins, all three kids looking suspiciously close to starting another round of chaos.

“Come on, Sammy”, Dean said, his voice dripping with mock indignation. “You can handle breakfast for twenty minutes”.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, sure. Because last time I ‘handled breakfast’, I had to explain to Caleb why Jake thought peanut butter went on the stove, and Ellie was using syrup as hair gel”.

Dean snorted, turning fully to face his brother. “You’re telling me you can face down demons and angels, but you can’t manage two five-year-olds and a ten-year-old for twenty minutes?”.

Sam opened his mouth, clearly ready to argue, but Dean held up a hand, his expression turning serious—or as serious as he could manage with his sweatpants slung low on his hips and his hair still sticking up.

“Sam”, Dean said, his tone low and firm, “it’s Christmas. Give us a break. Twenty minutes. That’s all I’m asking”.

Sam sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose before glaring at Dean. “Fine. But if I find syrup anywhere it doesn’t belong—”.

“You won’t”, Dean said quickly, his grin returning. “They’re angels”.

Sam muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like yeah, right before shooing the kids back toward the kitchen. “Alright, come on, you three. Let’s see if we can make pancakes without burning the bunker down”.

Ellie and Jake cheered, bounding after him with Caleb trailing behind, looking both amused and resigned.

As soon as they disappeared, Dean turned back to you, his grin now entirely unrestrained. “See? Twenty minutes. Plenty of time”.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “And what exactly are we doing in these twenty minutes?”.

Dean stepped closer, his hands sliding around your waist as he pulled you flush against him. “You agreed to the shower”, he said, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly tone that made your knees weak. “I’m just making sure you don’t back out”.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as he leaned down to kiss you, slow and lingering. “Alright”, you said against his lips. “Twenty minutes”.

Dean smirked, pulling you toward the bathroom. “You know I can work with that”.

Behind you, the faint sound of Sam’s exasperated voice carried from the kitchen, followed by Ellie’s laughter and Jake’s declaration that syrup was “just fancy hair gel”.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he closed the bathroom door behind you. “Angels”, he repeated, his voice full of affectionate sarcasm. “Absolute angels”.

After the fourth attempt at trying for baby number three, you and Dean finally emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed, the lingering steam from the hot water clinging faintly to your skin. The scent of Dean’s cologne mixed with the cozy aroma of pancakes and syrup wafting from the kitchen. As you walked in, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the kids gathered around the table, the twins buzzing with excitement while Caleb calmly helped make sure everything was in place.

Ellie and Jake had already set the table with plates, forks, and napkins—though not all of them were straight, and Ellie had stacked three napkins on her plate for some reason. Caleb was pouring juice into cups with the steady precision of someone who had been here before, a slight grin on his face as Jake talked a mile a minute about all the presents under the tree.

“We set it up, Mommy!”, Ellie exclaimed proudly, holding her bunny in one hand as she gestured at the slightly messy table with the other. “Is it good?”.

“It’s perfect”, you said warmly, walking over to ruffle her hair before noticing her sleeves. “But let’s get these up, okay? Don’t want syrup all over your jammies”.

Ellie giggled as you gently rolled up the sleeves of her favorite snowflake-patterned pajamas. Just as you finished, Dean’s phone buzzed on the counter, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

Dean grabbed it, smirking as he saw Jodie’s name flashing. “Looks like the cavalry’s here”, he muttered before answering. “Hey, Jodie. Merry Christmas”.

Before he could get another word in, Caleb bolted toward the door, shouting, “Auntie Jodie! Auntie Jodie’s here!”.

Dean shook his head, grinning as he hung up the phone. “Guess I didn’t need to answer after all”.

You chuckled as Caleb yanked open the heavy bunker door, his voice echoing through the hallway.

Sure enough, standing just outside in the frosty morning air was Jodie, her two girls—Claire and Alex—beside her, all bundled up against the cold. Donna stood to the side, her signature bright smile lighting up the moment, while Castiel and Jack stood behind them, looking equally festive despite Cas’s usual stoicism. In Jodie and Donna’s hands were several large bags, overflowing with brightly wrapped Christmas presents.

“About time you let us in!”, Jodie teased, stepping forward as Caleb flung his arms around her waist.

Donna laughed, hefting the bags higher. “We were starting to think you guys were still asleep!”.

Jack grinned, his enthusiasm bubbling over as he hugged Caleb. “Merry Christmas!”, he exclaimed, his eyes darting to the twins, who were already bouncing in place at the sight of all the presents. “We brought a lot of stuff!”.

“I can see that”, you said with a laugh, helping Donna with one of her bags. “Did you guys empty the store or what?”.

“Oh, you know”, Jodie said, her tone casual but her smile warm. “Just a little something for everyone”.

Claire rolled her eyes but smiled as she set her bag down by the tree. “You mean a lot of something for everyone”.

As everyone settled into the kitchen, the sounds of laughter, conversation, and clinking plates filled the bunker, the space alive with the kind of warmth that only came from being surrounded by family—both the one you were born into and the one you chose.

An hour later, the bunker’s usually stoic and cold atmosphere had transformed into a scene of warmth and chaos around the glowing Christmas tree. Wrapping paper and ribbons were scattered across the floor, the remnants of enthusiastic unwrapping now forgotten as everyone enjoyed their new gifts. The soft twinkle of lights illuminated the room, casting a warm glow on the smiling faces around you.

Jake sat in your lap on the floor, completely engrossed in his new dinosaur toy, his small hands moving it around as he made roaring noises. You leaned back against Dean, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist, his warmth anchoring you in the midst of the joyful commotion.

Ellie was sprawled on the floor nearby, her bunny nestled by her side as she played with a doll Jodie had brought her, already inventing an elaborate story involving an adventure in a magical forest. Caleb sat beside her, tinkering with a new model kit, his focus intense as he explained the mechanics to Jack, who listened with wide-eyed curiosity.

Dean’s hand rested lightly on your knee, his thumb brushing against your leg absentmindedly as he surveyed the scene. “Look at ‘em”, he murmured, his voice soft and full of pride. “Like a bunch of happy little squirrels”.

You laughed quietly, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “It’s chaos, but the good kind”.

He kissed your temple, his scruff brushing against your skin. “Yeah. This is the kinda chaos I could get used to”.

Across the room, Jodie and Donna were sitting on the couch, laughing together as they admired their gifts. Donna held up a fuzzy scarf that Claire had picked out for her, wrapping it dramatically around her neck as she struck a pose. “How do I look?”, she asked, grinning.

“Like a movie star”, Jodie teased, shaking her head. “A really dramatic one”.

Claire rolled her eyes from her spot on the floor, but a small smile tugged at her lips as Alex nudged her playfully. Castiel, ever the observer, sat quietly in a chair, his gaze fixed on the tree as if he were contemplating the deeper meaning of its existence.

Jack was perched on the edge of the couch, his face lit with excitement as he examined a book Jodie had given him on Earth’s natural wonders. “Did you know there’s a lake that glows in the dark?”, he asked Caleb, his voice filled with awe.

Caleb nodded, still focused on his kit. “Yeah, bioluminescence. It’s pretty cool”.

Dean chuckled softly, his chest rumbling against your back. “Leave it to Jack and Caleb to turn Christmas into a science lesson”.

Jake, oblivious to the conversation, looked up at you suddenly, his dinosaur still clutched in his hands. “Mommy, look! He can roar like this!”, He made a loud, exaggerated roar, his face scrunched up in concentration.

You grinned, smoothing his messy hair as you played along. “Wow, that’s a scary roar!".

"I think he might be the loudest dinosaur in the whole bunker”, Jack said.

Dean smirked, leaning forward slightly to ruffle Jake’s hair. “I dunno, kid. I think your Uncle Sammy might give him a run for his money”.

Sam, who was sitting cross-legged nearby and flipping through a new book, glanced up with a raised eyebrow. “I heard that”.

Dean winked, clearly unapologetic. “Yeah, you did”.

The laughter and chatter carried on, the room filled with the unmistakable sound of family—messy, chaotic, but completely full of love. You glanced around at everyone, your heart swelling as you took in the scene. This was what Christmas was supposed to feel like.

Dean’s arms tightened around you slightly, and when you looked up at him, his green eyes were soft and content as they met yours. “This is a pretty damn good Christmas, huh?”, he said, his voice low so only you could hear.

You smiled, resting your hand over his. “Yeah, it really is”.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, holding you a little closer. “And it’s not over yet”, he said with a grin. “Still gotta watch the twins try to eat their body weight in cookies”.

You laughed, closing your eyes briefly as you leaned into him.

Ellie and Jake suddenly stood up, exchanging exaggerated whispers that had everyone turning to watch them curiously. Jake glanced back toward the couch, giving Ellie a quick nod before the two of them ducked behind it, giggling quietly as they rummaged for something.

“What are they up to now?”, Dean muttered, raising an eyebrow but smiling fondly. His arm tightened around your waist, keeping you close as he watched his kids with amusement.

Moments later, the twins emerged triumphantly, holding a small, brightly colored bag. It was obvious they’d been saving this for the right moment, and their matching grins could barely contain their excitement. Without a word, they turned and marched straight toward Castiel, who was still seated near the Christmas tree, quietly observing the scene.

Cas tilted his head slightly as the twins approached, his usual stoic expression giving way to curiosity. The twins stopped in front of him, their smiles widening as they held the bag out together.

“Merry Christmas, Uncle Cas!”, Ellie declared, her voice bright and filled with excitement.

“Yeah! Merry Christmas!”, Jake chimed in, bouncing slightly on his toes.

Castiel blinked, his piercing blue eyes moving from the twins to the bag, then back to the twins. “This is for me?”, he asked, his tone laced with genuine surprise, as if the thought of receiving a gift hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Of course!”, Ellie said, nudging the bag closer to him. “You’re our favorite uncle!”.

Jake nodded eagerly, adding, “Yeah, you’re funny. Like, the way you talk and stuff. It’s, like… cool”.

Dean let out a quiet chuckle behind you, muttering, “Well, that’s one way to put it”.

Cas’s head tilted even further, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed their words. Then, slowly, a small, genuine smile appeared on his face—the kind of rare, warm smile that made everyone in the room stop for a second.

“Thank you”, Cas said, his voice soft and sincere. He took the bag carefully, as though it were something fragile and precious. “I… appreciate this gesture. Merry Christmas to you both”.

Ellie and Jake beamed, clearly proud of themselves. They stepped back, watching eagerly as Cas opened the bag. Inside, he found a small, hand-painted ornament—a slightly crooked angel with golden wings and a blue trench coat, its expression remarkably serious.

Cas held up the ornament, studying it with that same intense focus he brought to everything. “It’s you, Uncle Cas!”, Ellie explained, bouncing on her toes. “We made it! Well, Mommy helped a little”.

Jake nodded. “Yeah, it’s your coat and your serious face! You can hang it on the tree!”.

Cas stared at the ornament for a long moment, his lips twitching as though he were trying to understand why the kids had chosen him for such a tribute. “It’s… accurate”, he said finally, his voice thoughtful.

The room burst into laughter, even Sam cracking a rare grin as Donna doubled over with a wheezing chuckle. “Oh, Cas”, she said, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “Never change”.

Cas looked up at Ellie and Jake, who were grinning from ear to ear. His expression softened, and he nodded solemnly. “Thank you. I will treasure this”.

Ellie and Jake’s smiles widened, and they darted forward to hug him, surprising the stoic angel. He hesitated for only a moment before carefully placing the ornament back in the bag and returning their hugs, his movements slightly stiff but no less genuine.

Dean leaned over to you, his grin wide and teasing. “They’re right, you know. Cas is basically a cat in human form. Aloof most of the time, but when he decides he likes you, you’re stuck with him”.

You laughed softly, resting your head against his shoulder. “They adore him. It’s kind of perfect”.

“Merry Christmas, Cas”, Dean said, his voice soft but full of warmth.

Castiel’s blue eyes shifted to Dean, his face as calm and serious as ever, though his words carried the weight of a casually dropped bombshell. “Merry Christmas, Dean”, he said, before adding, in the same matter-of-fact tone, “Oh, and congratulations on child number three”.

The room went silent.

Ellie and Jake paused mid-conversation, their heads whipping around to look at you and Dean with matching expressions of surprise and curiosity. Jodie’s mug of coffee froze halfway to her lips, her brows shooting up. Donna’s jaw dropped, and even Claire stopped fiddling with the wrapper of a chocolate Santa.

Dean, for his part, blinked at Cas, his arms tightening around you instinctively as his brain worked to catch up. “I’m sorry, what?”, he finally managed, his voice cracking slightly.

Cas tilted his head, his expression neutral, as though he were oblivious to the bombshell he’d just dropped. “The child you conceived this morning”, he said patiently, as if clarifying something simple. “It will grow strong and healthy. Congratulations”.

Your mouth opened, but no sound came out. You turned to Dean, who was now gaping at Cas like the angel had sprouted a second head. “Cas”, Dean finally said, his voice strained. “Are you… are you serious right now?”.

Cas nodded solemnly. “Of course. I wouldn’t joke about something so significant”.

Donna choked on her coffee, sputtering as she tried to recover. “Uh, am I hearing this right?”, she asked, looking between you and Dean. “Is this, like, angel-level baby news?”.

Jodie covered her mouth with her hand, clearly trying not to laugh as her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Oh, this is gonna be good”.

Dean’s eyes darted to the twins, who were staring at you both with wide eyes. “Wait a minute—Ellie, Jake, uh… you guys don’t even know what Cas is talking about, right?”, he asked, suddenly looking panicked.

Ellie tilted her head, her little brows furrowing. “Does it mean we’re getting a baby for Christmas?”.

Jake gasped, his excitement palpable. “Like a baby brother?".

Dean groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face as he muttered, “Oh, for the love of—Cas, you couldn’t have said this later?”.

“I thought you’d like to know”, Cas said simply, looking genuinely confused by the commotion. “It’s joyous news, isn’t it?”.

You finally managed to speak, your cheeks flushed and your voice a little shaky. “Cas”, you said, holding up a hand, “you… you’re saying it worked?”.

“Yes”, Cas replied with a small nod. “The energy surrounding you both was unmistakable”.

Jodie finally let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Well, congrats, you two”, she said, her tone warm but teasing. “I guess we know what you were doing this morning”.

Dean groaned again, burying his face against your shoulder.

Sam threw his head back dramatically, letting out a long, exaggerated groan before turning toward Caleb, who was still sitting on the floor with a model kit in his hands. “Caleb”, Sam said, his voice filled with mock desperation, “we need backup”.

Dean’s hand rested protectively on your belly, his fingers splayed across the fabric of your shirt as though it were the most natural place for them to be. He didn’t even seem to realize it, his focus entirely on teasing Sam as the room buzzed with laughter. But you felt the warmth of his touch, grounding and comforting, and it sent a wave of emotion through you.

As you watched him, you couldn’t help but remember how he had been six years ago when you were pregnant with Ellie and Jake. Back then, Dean’s protectiveness had been a force of nature. He had insisted on doing almost everything for you—cooking, carrying anything remotely heavy, even trying (and failing) to assemble the crib himself without asking Sam for help. He’d hovered over you like a mother hen, always checking if you needed anything, always making sure you were comfortable and safe.

You smiled to yourself at the memory of him sneaking out in the middle of the night to get you a very specific brand of ice cream because you’d mentioned craving it once. Or how he’d built up an entire arsenal of baby books, even if he claimed he didn’t need them because “it’s instinct, babe”.

And now, seeing him so casually yet instinctively protective, even before you were showing or feeling the full weight of the pregnancy, reminded you just how much Dean cared—how deeply he loved his family.

“Sammy”, Dean drawled, grinning as he gestured toward the twins, who were still buzzing with excitement. “You’re just jealous because my kids already have a battle plan for world domination, and you can barely get Caleb to do the dishes”.

Caleb smirked from his spot on the floor, holding up his hands. “Hey, I do the dishes. Sometimes”.

“See?”, Dean shot back, his grin widening. “Meanwhile, I’ve got a baby on the way and two kids already training to take over the family business”.

Sam groaned, rubbing his temples. “Oh, yeah, the family business. Great. You’re turning them into mini versions of you”.

“Damn straight”, Dean said, his tone proud. “Best Christmas gift ever”.

You laughed softly, resting your hand on top of Dean’s where it still lay against your stomach. The motion caught his attention, and his teasing expression softened instantly when he looked at you. His green eyes met yours, a quiet, unspoken emotion passing between you.

“You okay?”, he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“I’m perfect”, you replied, your smile widening as you squeezed his hand. “You?”.

His lips quirked into a softer smile as he laced his fingers with yours. “Never better”.

"Merry Christmas, Dean”, you whispered, tilting your head just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. His hand on your belly tightened slightly, and you felt him smile against your mouth before he murmured back, “Merry Christmas, sweetheart”.

Before the moment could deepen, a loud chorus of exaggerated gagging noises erupted from nearby. “Ewww!”, Jake groaned dramatically, scrunching his nose. “Gross!”.

“Disgusting!”, Ellie added, clutching her bunny to her chest as she made an exaggerated barfing sound.

Even Caleb, normally the calm and composed one, couldn’t resist joining in with a muttered, “Seriously, get a room”.

Dean pulled back from the kiss with a laugh, shaking his head as he looked at the kids, all of whom were now thoroughly invested in making the most dramatic gagging noises they could muster. His hand stayed on your belly, his thumb brushing against you in that comforting, protective way that made your heart flutter every time.

“Alright, alright”, Dean said, his smirk widening as he shot the kids a mock-stern look. “You can stop with the barf noises. We get it—you’re all scarred for life”.

Jake crossed his arms, still pouting. “I’m telling Santa about this”.

Ellie, clutching her bunny tightly, nodded with a mischievous grin. “Yeah, Santa should know what you’ve been doing”.

Dean let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, really? You’re gonna tattle on your own parents to Santa? Good luck with that, kiddo”.

“You’re both impossible”, you added with a laugh, shaking your head as the twins dissolved into giggles, their earlier protests forgotten. Caleb just rolled his eyes and muttered something about needing earplugs next Christmas.

Jodie, sitting on the couch, leaned over to Donna with a grin. “You know, I think this might be the most entertaining Christmas we’ve had yet”.

Donna nodded, chuckling as she sipped her coffee. “Definitely. And the most chaotic”.

Castiel, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange, tilted his head slightly. “I fail to understand why the children find displays of affection so objectionable. It is a natural expression of love”.

Dean barked out another laugh, pointing at Cas. “See? Even the angel gets it”.

You shook your head with a smile, leaning back against Dean as the room filled with laughter and playful teasing. The twins went back to their toys, Caleb resumed tinkering with his model kit, and the rest of the family settled into the warm, easy rhythm of Christmas morning.

Dean leaned closer to you, his voice low so only you could hear. “Crazy, isn’t it? This life, these kids, a new baby on the way…”.

You glanced up at him, catching the quiet wonder in his green eyes. “It’s crazy,” you admitted softly, lacing your fingers with his where his hand still rested on your belly. “But it’s ours. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything”.

Dean smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Me neither, sweetheart. Me neither”.

As the kids’ laughter echoed through the room and the twinkling lights of the tree cast a warm glow over the bunker, you felt a profound sense of peace. This was your family—messy, chaotic, loud, and so full of love it was almost overwhelming.

And as you sat there, wrapped in Dean’s arms and surrounded by the people you cared about most, you couldn’t help but think that this was the kind of Christmas you’d always dreamed of—perfect in its imperfection, filled with laughter, love, and the promise of everything good yet to come.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

I just can’t get over Dad!Steve or Dad!Bucky!

Can I please request a Dad!Steve Rogers x adopted daughter!reader where he finds her all alone after the snap, she’s only 10 years old and all alone because her parents a part “disappeared “ list. He ends up adopting her and raising her as his own. Fast forward 5 years, when The Avengers get back together to try to use time travel to bring everyone back, the first time they tried to reverse the snap, it’s actually successful, so they don’t have the big battle at the end (so Tony doesn’t die!! Also Nat doesn’t die either because I just don’t accept that, and Steve doesn’t go back in time). Anyways, once all of the disappeared people return, Y/n’s parents return as well, and want their daughter back… BUT! Her parents aren’t good parents, and they weren’t good parents before the snap either, and to Y/n, Steve is her Dad and she wants to stay with him (Steve is SUCH a good Dad to her and he is so proud at how much of a good kid she is). She’d probably start crying and beg Steve not to make her go back to her birth parents and that she wants to stay with him, he’d promise her she isn’t going anywhere because she is his daughter forever and always!! Also now that all of the Avengers are back, Steve finally gets to introduce his daughter to them (and she totally fan girls a bit because they’re superheroes and she grew up watching them on the news saving people), and she’s so excited to meet Bucky and Sam because they’re her Dad’s best friends. She’s just a sweet kid and her Dad loves her a lot💜💜

Stay With You » Steve Rogers/Captain America

Pairings: Dad!Steve Rogers x Adopted Daughter!Reader with the Avengers, Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier, and Sam Wilson/Falcon

Summary: Steve adopts you and raises you like his own child when your parents dust away in the snap. When everyone comes back 5 years later, your parents try to get you back, but you want to stay with Steve.

Warnings: Fluff, little bit of Angst (not you and Steve), language, crying, nicknames

Ages of reader: 10 years old, 15 years old

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Gif credits go to the creators.

Half of everyone around you turned to dust. It was freaking you out and confusing you. You looked down to make sure you weren’t dusting away. You felt relieved to know you’re not. You looked to the right of you to see if your mom was there… she wasn’t. You looked to the left of you to if your dad was there… he wasn’t there either. You looked down to see their dust particles on the sidewalk.

“N-No.” You say to yourself, touching the parts of the sidewalk where your parents were standing just a moment ago.

You sat down on the concrete and started crying. Even though, your parents weren’t exactly good parents, you were scared of being alone. No one around you checked to see if you were ok or not. They were too confused about what just happened and walked past you.

You weren’t sure how long you were crying. A shadow casted over you. You sniffled and looked up to see Captain America. Steve crouched down to your level.

“Are you hurt, kiddo?” Steve asks softly.

“No.” You answered.

“How old are you?” He asks.

“10.” You tell him.

“My name is Steve. What’s your name?” He asks.

“Y/N.” You tell him.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N. Do you know where your parents are?” He asks.

Your bottom lip quivered and pointed at the two dust spots on the sidewalk next to you. Steve looked at the two spots and then looked at you again.

“I’m scared. I don’t want to be alone.” You cried.

Hearing you say that broke Steve’s heart. He knew he had to take matters into his own hands.

“You’re not going to be alone, sweetheart. You can come with me if you want.” He says softly.

“Really?” You asked and sniffled.

Steve nods and smiles. He held his hand out to you and helped you get up from the ground.

“Do you know where your house is so you can get some clothes?” Steve asks.

You nodded your head yes. Steve held your hand as you guys went to your house. When you guys got to your house, you found the spare key your parents hid under the welcome mat and unlocked the door. He helped you pack some of your clothes. You also grabbed your favorite stuffed dog. Then Steve took you to the compound.

“I get to live here?” You asked as you guys walked inside of the compound.

“Yes.” Steve says.

Steve took you to one of the spare bedrooms, which was right next to his bedroom.

“I’ll let you get settled in. Let me know if you need anything, ok.” Steve says.

You nodded.

“Steve?” You say.

“Yes, kiddo?” Steve asks, stopping in the doorway of your room.

“Did anyone you know turn to dust?” You asked.

The image of Bucky calling out to Steve before he dusted away plays on repeat in his head.

“My best friend.” He tells you.

You walked over to him and hugged him. Steve smiles and hugs you back.

“I’m sorry about your best friend.” You say.

“I’m sorry about your parents.” He says.

“They weren’t very nice people.” You say.

Steve frowns and looks down at you. He crouches down to your height.

“What do you mean they weren’t very nice people?” Steve asks.

“They didn’t told me they didn’t want kids.” You tell him.

“Oh, sweetie…” He whispers, hugging you.

Steve got to thinking. He wants you to have at least one parent who loves and cares for you. That person is going to be him. That’s what he did later that same week. He got the adoption papers to become your dad. It’s the best decision he’s made in years.

“Are you sure this is what you want to do, Steve?” Natasha asks.

“I’m more than sure, Nat. Y/N needs a parent in her life and I want to become her dad.” Steve says.

“What are you going to do if or when everyone comes back from the blip and her parents want her back?” Rhodey asks.

“We’ll cross that bridge when that happens.” Steve says.

Steve left the conference room shortly after that conversation to find you. You were watching cartoons in the lounge room.

“Hey, kiddo. You got a second?” Steve asks.

“Yes.” You shut the TV off. “What’s up?” You asked.

“I want to ask you something important.” He sat down next to you. “How would you feel if I adopted you?” He asks.

“I would love that!” You smile widely.

“Good, because I have something for you.” He says.

Steve handed you the adoption papers. You read them carefully, your eyes widening when you seen the word “adoption”.

“All we have to do is sign it and you’ll be my daughter.” He says.

You squealed happily and threw yourself in his arms to hug him. Steve smiles and hugs you back. You couldn’t help but get a little emotional.

“I finally have a parent who loves me!” You say, tears of happiness rolling down your cheeks.

“Aww, sweetheart…” He almost whispers.

You guys pulled away from the hug and signed the papers.

“Can I have your last name?” You asked curiously.

“Of course you can! That’s next on the list.” He smiles.

———

“Dad!” You shouted through the compound.

“In here!” Steve shouts back.

You walked to what looks like a a big garage to you. Your dad was in there was Natasha, Bruce, and Scott. You seen a bunch of equipment and Scott’s van.

“What are you guys doing?” You asked, looking at the equipment and the van.

“We’re going to try to get everyone who disappeared back.” Scott tells you.

You hummed in interest, curious to know if it’s actually going to work.

“Do you need something, sweetheart?” Steve asks.

“I was bored and I was wondering what you guys were up to.” You say.

You stared at the equipment once more before grinning.

“No.” Steve says.

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!” You playfully whined.

“Whatever it is, no.” He says again.

You pouted and gave him puppy dog eyes. Steve hates how affective that face is, but he’ll admit that it’s cute.

“Ask what you’re going to ask.” He says.

“Can I help?” You asked. “I’m good with numbers.” You say.

“No. I don’t want you to get hurt.” He says.

“Can I at least watch?” You asked.

Steve thought about it for a moment.

“Did you do your homework?” Steve asks.

“Yes.” You answered honestly.

“Ok. You can watch, but you stay by me, understand?” He says.

“Yes, Captain Dad!” You playfully saluted him.

Steve chuckles before ruffling your hair. Like you promised your dad, you stayed next to him the whole time. While you were watching to see if bringing everyone back would work, your nerves settled in. You realized that your parents are part of the snap. You ran back inside the compound, leaving your dad, Natasha, Scott, and Bruce in a state of confusion.

“Is Y/N ok?” Natasha asks Steve.

“I don’t know. I’ll be right back.” Steve says.

Steve went inside and looked for you everywhere in the compound. He found you crying in your bedroom and holding your favorite stuffed puppy. He sat down on your bed next to you.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Steve asks softly with concern in his voice.

You sniffled and sat up, holding your stuffed puppy on your lap.

“Uncle Scott said that you guys are trying to get everyone who disappeared back.” You say.

“Yes.” He replies.

“My parents are two of those people who disappeared.” You begin. “What if they try to take me away from you?” You say.

“Princess, that’s not going to happen. I’ll make sure of it.” He says softly.

Steve wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly.

“Look on the bright side, you’ll get to meet uncle Bucky and uncle Sam soon.” He says.

You realized he’s right. You can’t wait to meet them soon.

———

“Why can’t I stay home from school to see if everyone comes back?” You asked your dad for what it seems like the hundredth time.

“You, little missy, need to go to school.” Steve says.

“Please.” You begged, clasping your hands together and giving him puppy dog eyes.

It took everything in Steve to not fall for the puppy dog eyes yet again.

“Nice try, kiddo. You’re going to school.” He says.

You whined loudly.

“Get your backpack before you’re late for school.” He says.

You went to your bedroom to get your backpack and met your dad in the car. Steve takes you to school like he always does.

“Have a good day, sweetheart. I love you.” Steve says as you get out of the car.

“I love you too, dad. Good luck.” You say as you shut the car door.

When Steve got to the compound, him and the Avengers made everything was set up and ready to try to bring everyone back who was in the snap. Everyone is hoping that it works on the first try and no battle breaks out again.

“Here goes nothing.” Bruce says.

Bruce pressed a button and that’s when everything went into motion. Surprisingly, it went perfectly. Everyone who was in the snap came back on the first try. Everyone felt relieved that it worked. Steve smiles and walks over to his best friend, giving him a big hug. He then gave Sam a hug.

“What did we miss?” Sam asks.

“A lot. I have a daughter now.” Steve happily tells Bucky and Sam.

Bucky’s and Sam’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What’s are name and how old is she?” Bucky asks curiously.

“Her name is Y/N and she’s 15. I adopted her.” Steve tells them. “Speaking of her, I need to pick her up from school.” He says.

Bucky and Sam were surprised that Steve is a dad now, which they love for him.

“A lot has changed in 5 years.” Sam says.

“I know right.” Bucky says.

While you were waiting for your dad to pick you up from school, a couple walked up to you while you were scrolling through your phone.

“Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice.

You froze when you heard the voice. It sounded like your mom’s voice. You haven’t heard from her or seen her since you were 10. It can’t be… did it work? Did everyone who was part of the snap come back? Apparently, it did work. You looked up from your phone to see your biological parents standing in front of you. Your eyes went wide.

“Miss us?” Your biological dad asks.

You stayed quiet, scared to say anything.

“You know it’s rude to not respond to someone when they’re talking to you, especially if those people are your parents.” Your mom says.

You still didn’t say anything.

“Let’s go home.” She says.

“No.” You finally speak up.

“What?” She asks.

“I said no.” You repeated.

“You don’t have a choice.” Your biological dad says.

He grabs your arm with a tight grip, making you whimper in pain. Lucky for you, Steve pulled up to the school in time. He got out of the car and walked over to you.

“I’d appreciate it if you took your hands off my daughter.” Steve says.

“Your daughter?” Your biological dad scoffs.

“Are you saying that you adopted a kid who has parents?” Your mom says.

“Parents don’t tell their kids that they don’t want them to their faces.” Steve says, recalling your words from 5 years ago.

Your biological parents laughed when Steve said that. Your biological dad let go of your arm. Steve gently pushed you behind him, shielding you from them.

“Whatever. Keep her. We don’t care.” Your biological dad says.

“Just know, she’s not the little angel you think she is.” Your mom says.

Your biological parents walked away. Steve heard sniffles and soft sobs from behind him. He turned around to see you crying. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close to him.

“Please- Please don’t let them take me away from you. I-I don’t want to go with them. I want to stay with you.” You cried.

“No one is taking you away from me and you’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.” Steve says softly.

Your crying stops after a couple minutes.

“Are you ok?” He asks softly.

“I am now.” You say and sniffled.

“Let’s go to the compound. There’s people there who I want you to meet.” He says happily.

“So it worked?” You asked.

“Yes.” He answers with a smile.

You wiped your tears away with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You and Steve got in the car and went to the compound. You seen people who you’ve never met, but you’ve seen pictures of when you walked in the lounge room with Steve. You put your backpack on the floor against the couch.

“This is Y/N.” Steve tells Bucky and Sam. “Y/N, this is Bucky and Sam. They’re your uncles.” He tells you.

“Hi!” You smiled and waved at them.

“Hi!” They smile back.

“You guys are so cool!” You exclaimed excitedly.

“Cool than me? Your dad?” Steve jokes, pretending to be jealous.

You playfully waved him off, making him laugh lightly and continued to ramble about how cool superheroes are, especially them and the Avengers. Steve smiles as you interacted with Bucky and Sam.

“Can you tell me stories from the 1940s?” You asked Bucky.

“Sweetheart, I told you stories from the 1940s.” Steve says.

“I know. I want to hear uncle Bucky’s stories.” You say.

“What do you want to hear first, doll?” Bucky asks.

“All of it.” You answered.

“How about I start with the time your dad and I went to Coney Island?” Bucky says.

“Oh god.” Steve groans, remembering that day perfectly.

“Yes please!” You say exactly.

You spent the whole day getting to know Bucky and Sam and hearing Bucky’s stories from the 1940s.

“Did you have fun today?” Steve asks.

“Yes!” You replied happily. “Except for- you know…” You say, referring to the little interaction with your biological parents.

“You don’t need to worry about them anymore, princess. I know you’re not my biological daughter, but you’ll always be my daughter.” He says softly.

You smiled and hugged him.

“I love you, dad.” You say.

“I love you too, sweetie.” Steve says, kissing the top of your head.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

-Bucky’s Doll

[acesw]

Disabled Characters in Reverse: 1999 - Part 3

Welcome to the final installment of this list of the game's disabled characters (for now), and we are ending it with the most interesting of them: the neurodivergent characters!

These characters are particularly special since a lot of them are mainly speculated, but they draw heavy parallels to their respective conditions that they had to be taken note of.

Now because there are so many characters, they became an entire category of their own instead of being lumped with the previous post, and this became undoubtedly one of the longest texts I've written down among most of the analysis posts I've made for this game.

I hope that you enjoy reading this final piece, let's get started.

Autism: 37, Horropedia, Melania, Balloon Party, Avgust

All of these characters are incredibly similar to each other, and yet they all have their share differences. For example, both Horropedia and 37 are characters that embody one of the main stereotypes about autism: Incredibly intelligent characters who fixate on specific subjects. 37’s focus is on mathematics, while Horropedia’s is the horror genre. Even their personalities are quite similar: arrogant yet kind and understanding people.

They lace their speech with associations to their topic of interest, and will infodump about it unprompted. The two of them also struggle to pick up social cues, nor can tell if the information they’re sharing is unsolicited because the information is normal to themselves.

However, the difference between them in this is that Horropedia is more carefree about it, whilst 37 is more self-aware about the fact that she can’t come to a mutual understanding with others.

The rest of the characters here also share these traits, but they all stand out in their own ways:

Melania’s intricate way of making plans tends to be in the form of academic exams. These tend to be her greatest motivator when it comes to doing work, and gets easily frustrated when having to change them. She also has a set routine that she gets easily surprised by sudden interruptions.

Balloon Party’s speech is found to be unconventional (i.e. the speech impediment from earlier, the tone of her voice is found to be naturally flat) and is paired with word association and echolalia.

Avgust has a unique understanding of the world around him, with him associating everything and everyone with more innocent concepts. (e.g. his father’s death is often referred to as him “sleeping in the mines”) None of these mean that he doesn’t understand things like death as what they are, only that he’s very young among the cast and has been raised in a healthy environment that allows him to continue thinking this way for a bit longer.

ADHD: Regulus & Eagle

With Regulus, it’s more of a headcanon than it is backed by evidence, but the main points that can be found for her are her restlessness, lacking attention span, and her impulsivity. They’re common aspects (hyperactive) in ADHD, and thus they aren’t exactly conclusive.

But I also found that Regulus also tends to bring her interests to light when navigating through conversations, and this with the reasons mentioned above makes me personally believe that Regulus does not just strictly have ADHD, but still overall neurodivergent.

Eagle seems to have the inattentive type of ADHD. A more established indicator of her likely having it is through her anecdote, where she was said to have had some sort of attention-deficit. In that anecdote, Eagle mainly acts on her own impulses such as jumping to try to find the missing boy scout, and even helping X if it meant that it progressed her mission.

She struggles to take rejection and constantly tries to prove herself to be able to gain the acceptance she’s looking for. It made me believe that she has Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria. (RSD)

While these alone aren’t conclusive either, they still give me enough reason to believe that Eagle could be implied to be neurodivergent too.

AuDHD (Autism + ADHD): Vertin, Marcus, AliEn T

From the earlier points, we find that some of the mixed traits that make for auDHD are found in Vertin, Marcus, and AliEn T. All three of them are quite emotional (even Vertin in spite of her stoicism) and impulsive people, where they tend to jump into action when they have a rough plan set in mind. They also have their own interests (wildlife, reading, Earth) and tend to get absorbed into their own thoughts quite often. Because of the latter, they tend to lead themselves into executive dysfunction. Some things about them differ, however.

Starting with Vertin, most of the “obvious” signs are present in her childhood, where she was restless and curious of the world beyond SPDM, making it difficult for her to focus in school. Yet, she still kept up with topics that interested her, going as far as skipping classes to learn in her own way.

She has gotten punished often for her “defiance,” and ended up being radicalized by it and by the trauma she faced in Chapter 3. Currently, she masks quite heavily to a degree, leaving her main indicators to be her tactile tendencies (i.e. touching things and others out of curiosity) and her becoming absorbed to her own thoughts.

Meanwhile, Marcus is an incredibly anxious person. She often relied on someone like Hofmann to socialize with others and make decisions for her since she struggled greatly in that aspect. She can be easily upset by things and even by her own overthinking, taking rejection quite poorly before resorting to immediately coming up with ways to resolve it.

She often retreats back to reading to be able to ground herself from any stress. But now with everything that’s happened, Marcus has begun working on herself and mustering the courage to be able to push her limits independently.

We’re not entirely sure about how AliEn T’s home society is structured, but it can be argued that his and our societies tend to parallel each other. For example, AliEn T is seen as a bit eccentric to his kind like the regional manager and co-workers because of him being emotionally prone and being very fixated on the Earth. (which his society collectively avoids)

A lot of his notes about his home in the anecdote imply that in his home society, they have their equivalent of some of the struggles found in the neurodivergent experience, which is why he and Officer Williams in the anecdote could empathize with each other.

Others / Related but non-diagnostic: Mesmer Jr., Isolde, Pickles, Kaalaa Baunaa, Tooth Fairy, Blonney

As I explained in the previous post, Mesmer Jr. and Isolde both greatly suffer from conditions that particularly stem from their trauma and subsequent C-PTSD.

Again, Mesmer Jr. is heavily hinted to have OCD, while Isolde has many disorders linked to C-PTSD. (formerly named as "hysteria") Due to the nature of their respective conditions, they both deserve a place here in this list.

It can be assumed that Pickles is neurodivergent due to him being nicknamed as an “indigo pup.” While this might be related to his arcane skill, the nickname is also intriguing because it's like the term “indigo children.” 

“Indigo children” are classified as those who are incredibly intelligent and possess special talents or powers according to the New Age concept. However, this classification is closely associated with neurodivergence due to the similar descriptions.

Meanwhile, Kaalaa Baunaa, Tooth Fairy, and Blonney have shared stories in which they've had to maintain some form of distance towards their arcanist identities due to the hostile nature of their environments. They embraced it as part of themselves in the end, though.

Kaalaa Baunaa has been an avid researcher ever since she was young, and enjoys maintaining punctuality through routines. However, she had been often discriminated against in her initial workplace, where her arcanist identity had been picked out first before taking her research in consideration; even her research had been disregarded due to the “unconventional” methods that she applied to conduct them.

It can be considered a familiar feeling among neurodivergent people and it is incredibly frustrating when it happens. For KB, it had gotten bad to the point of her (and Kumar) getting kicked out of their institution, but it never stopped either of them from continuing to do their work.

Tooth Fairy and Blonney both grew up in mixed societies, where they had to force themselves to conform to be able to be accepted in both human and arcanist social spaces.

Tooth Fairy, while achieving this balance in her college years, had never been treated as an equal by either side due to both her arcanist identity and frequency to interact with humans. She was bullied for it and was even taken advantage of when she made the medicine in her character story. These experiences led her to accept her own identity and eventually stop overtly conforming to both societies.

Blonney meanwhile moved to a predominantly human society, where she greatly conformed to human ideals and trends to “fit in” with the humans. But she was still off-handedly discriminated against due to simply just being an arcanist. She tried really hard to suppress herself, to the point that she dimmed her own “light” and was unable to use her personalized arcane skill. But when she came back to Green Lake, her mask slowly fell apart, and then it reignited her passion, which allowed her to begin accepting herself again.

Honorable Mentions

Sonetto, Matilda, Sotheby, Ezra, Jessica - Autism (mainly credited from: @/H0LOdm on twt)

While these are mainly headcanon, some of these characters here do display neurodivergent traits in their own ways, most especially the latter 3 of these characters here. They all struggle to pick up social cues and tend to struggle in (conventionally) socializing/empathizing with others.

Sotheby and Jessica in particular both lace their language using their interests and the environment they grew up in. Ezra also uses his interests in fungi as a conversation starter with others, eager to see any mushrooms that might be potentially found anywhere.

Final Notes and Thanks

When I started writing these down I didn't really think much of it outside of the fact that there were so many characters who were particularly neurodivergent, which then further extended to the rest of the disabled characters as well. I tried my best to word these as respectfully as I can, and that I hope people could find fun in reading these as much as I did writing them.

I give my acknowledgements to these people for their help and support for the creation of list in entirety: Jager, Lupjo, Reg, Bee ( @e-0timely ) , Abyss ( @abyss-idiot ), and Tokki

Considering the nature of this list, I want to say that are non-conclusive and can be interpreted in any way you want. As I said in my previous version of this post, "...Every experience is different, and I think these characters here openly show that."

Feel free to add your own insights, corrections, and even your own headcanons here. Thanks for reading, and have the two links to the first two lists down here.

Physically Disabled Characters Psychologically Disabled Characters

[dancethroughthethunder]

Been There, Done That

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary: The residents of Jackson keep trying to tell Tommy they think there’s something going on with you and Joel but he’s not buying it. Tommy doesn’t blame them, he spent over two decades trying to get the two of you to admit your feelings for each other, and that was before the outbreak.

Author’s Note: My first ever Joel fic. This one has bounced around in my brain for quite a while, and I really have to thank the very kind commenter on my WIP list (not sure if they want to be tagged so I won't) whose kind words encouraged me to wrap and post this. My sweet, soft Joel Miller and a mischievous cast of folks in Jackson. This work can also be found here at my ao3. I hope you enjoy! Divider below credit to @saradika-graphics :)

You’re out on patrol with Joel, Jesse, and Cat walking through Teton Village. In a mile or so you’ll split off with Cat to the west while Jesse and Joel go east. For now, you’re all walking alongside your horses, giving them a chance to rest before riding ahead further. Cat is in the lead with you and Jesse in the middle, and Joel bringing up the rear just a few steps behind you. 

Compared to you and Joel, Jesse and Cat are still newer to patrolling but they’re no longer considered in training. Still, Jesse can’t help but to glance over at the two of you every now and then, making sure to follow your lead, while still maintaining an active view of his surroundings. He’s trained and patrolled with Joel enough to know just how good his situational awareness is, and how it puts him a step ahead of some of the other patrolmen.

Luckily, it’s been an easy patrol so far – there’s been no signs of infected or other people, and yesterday’s patrol didn’t turn anything up either though. two days ago someone noted some tracks. Your guards are still up, but you’re able to chat while you’re going, there’s no need for complete stealth and silence right now.

“So, Jesse, how’s Dina?” Rolling his eyes, he knows even before he turns to look at you that you’ve got a shit-eating grin. 

“I’m pretty sure you know as well as I do since you ate breakfast with her right before we left.” It’s all good natured as Jesse tries to deflect away from what you’re really asking.

“Oh, I’m not sure I know her as well as you do.” You joke.

“Alright, give the kid a break.” Before Jesse has a chance to reply, Joel catches up to you and takes your hand in his. At first, Jesse thinks that maybe Joel is trying to get your attention, or lead you somewhere but he’s shocked when he realizes that he’s just walking alongside you, his hand in yours.

He’s trying not to stare but it shocks him. Joel’s not exactly the affectionate type, but here he is with his left hand in your right, like it’s something he does every day. Neither of you seem bothered by it, and Jesse doesn’t want to make it weird so he just offers Joel an amused “thank you” for stopping your line of thought and keeps walking. 

About half a mile later, when you pass the library, you make a big show of wanting to go inside and grab a book.

“I don’t think so.” Joel interrupts.

“Oh come on, the weight of one book won’t make or break me.” You look up at Joel with a look as sweet as honey.

It’s clear you’ve had this conversation before as Joel as he fixes you with a look but doesn’t say anything. You both continue walking, it’s clear that if you really wanted to take off towards the library, you could, and it’s equally clear that Joel could tug you away if he wanted. But neither of you do. It’s a practiced song and dance between you two and Jesse watches as a smile starts to break through Joel’s attempt at looking stern.

“I’ll stop on our way back.” 

“I figured you would.” Joel says, and it’s the softest Jesse’s ever heard him sound. “Cat, don’t let her grab more than two, y’hear?” 

Cat just silently nods at the direction, and when you lock eyes with Jesse, you’ve got a mischievous look in your eyes. Jesse makes a mental note to check later – he’s almost sure that look means you’ll be returning with no fewer than three books. (You come back with five.)

Not long after that, you and Cat prepare to part ways with the guys. Jesse’s not sure when you and Joel stopped holding hands, but then again after the initial shock, it did sort of make sense for him too. He’s always assumed there was something going on with you two even though you’ve always sworn you were just friends. Hell, he’s even talked about it with Tommy. He’s looking forward to telling him this latest update later. 

“Alright, watch each others’ backs. Just because we haven’t seen anything come from those tracks doesn’t mean there’s nothing out there.” Joel tells you and Cat.

“I know. You do the same.” 

You and Joel exchange a quick nod, and Jesse does the same with Cat. Then you split one way while he and Joel go the other way. They don’t see you for the rest of the afternoon, but that’s expected with the way your routes diverge. Aside from one clicker that Joel takes out, it’s an incredibly calm patrol. 

As they enter the gates, Joel offers to sign Jesse’s gun back in with his own and take the horses. Jesse hands the gun and reins over before heading to Tommy’s office. It’s partly a chance to update him on how patrol went, but it’s mostly a chance to gossip while Tommy takes a look at some blueprints he’s been working on with Joel.

“So how was patrol?” Tommy asks after a few minutes of idle gossip, turning his focus back to his work. 

“Good, we followed up on those tracks that were spotted the other day, found one lone infected that Joel took out. Other than that, nothing out of the norm.” Jesse subconsciously stands a little straighter as he delivers this mini-report, his mind in business mode. 

Tommy doesn’t have much more to ask, he’ll get any details from Joel later and he trusts that if there’s anything to know immediately, one of the four of you would have already told him. Jesse’s a good kid and good on patrol, if he says it was all good, it was. So Tommy just nods and hums his approval.

“Tommy, they were holding hands.” Jesse says, sitting down and finally dropping what he thinks is going to be the biggest piece of gossip of the day.

Tommy doesn’t even bother looking up, “Were they near the old library?” 

“Well yeah, how’d you know?” Jesse’s eyes widen with surprise. How could Tommy possibly know that? 

“She’s always been a big reader, kid. Back in the day they’d go to the mall with Sarah, and Joel would have to practically drag her away from the bookstore before she could buy everything. Now it’s as much an old habit as it is practical. She can only carry so many books back on patrol.” 

“I’m telling you,” Jesse shakes his head, “they kept holding hands after they had walked past.”

“Joel was probably giving her shit about her running back to the library, and she was probably giving it right back about being tempted to do it.” Tommy shrugs. 

“Alright, if you say so.” Jesse wants to argue that he knows what he saw, how the two of you looked, but he gives up. Tommy’s just as stubborn as Joel and it’s easier to let it go. 

“Trust me, kid. They’ve been like this for decades. You’re not the first person to tell me you think something is up with them. I spent years thinking the same thing. But on a more interesting note, what’s this I hear about you and Dina getting back together again?” Tommy smirks, finally looking up right at Jesse.

“How the fuck could you possibly know that already? How does everyone know?” Jesse sighs exasperatedly while Tommy laughs. 

The two men spend the next hour together, talking and working as Tommy starts walking Jesse through what he’s been doing. Jesse is focused on the work but at the back of his mind, he’s still considering what he saw on patrol. The instinctive way that Joel grabbed your hand, the way it didn’t even phase you.

Sure, you were near the old library and you did joke about getting books but you didn’t look like you were trying to head there, and it didn’t look like Joel was trying to lead you anywhere, he was just trying to be with you. Frankly, it was quite a sight: big, bad Joel Miller, strapped with at least four weapons, eyes constantly scanning his surroundings and one hand softly holding onto you. What kind of trust that must entail to tie one hand to yours, knowing that’s a few extra seconds before it could reach for a weapon. Jesse loves Dina, he really does, but he’s not sure that he’d hold her hand on patrol. Not when it could be by his side, ready for action.

But, he figures, you and Joel are old hat at patrolling together. Everyone knows that you and Joel have been best friends since way before the outbreak, back to your school days. He’s seen the way you two move as one, so maybe those few seconds aren’t as concerning, as necessary. Maybe it’s an old habit, of a friendship from a lifetime ago. Besides, Tommy’s known you his whole life, has had decades of seeing you two together. Maybe he’s right, but if he isn’t, Jesse won’t wait to say I told you so. 

Just like he told Jesse, Tommy is so used to having to tell people no, you and Joel aren’t an item that he doesn’t even think to mention it to anyone. It’s old news, not even worth a mention to Maria at the end of the day despite the other gossip he passes along. He doesn’t give it another thought, not even when he’s thrust into a similar conversation with Eugene at the Tipsy Bison a few days later. 

“So, guess who I saw leaving your brother’s house early this morning?” Eugene asks as Tommy slides up next to him at the bar. 

“Do I even want to know?” Tommy asks with a groan. Joel’s really not as much of a ladies man as the gossip mill wishes he was, but he has been known to go on a date here or there. Still, as far as gossip comes, Eugene’s a pretty reliable source. 

Eugene doesn’t say anything, he just looks at Tommy as if to say, come on, guess. After a moment of silence, the look morphs into one that seems to indicate you’re not this dumb. I know you know who. 

“Oh come on, you can’t seriously tell me that even you think there’s something going on with them?” Tommy rolls his eyes. Neither man says your name, they don’t have to, they both know that they’re talking about you.

“No, I know. I’ve been on the other side of this conversation, myself, but this time there’s something to it.” Eugene jokes, taking a sip of his drink as Tommy just shakes his head. 

“You’re nuts. I think the weed is finally going to your head.” 

“That may be, but I know what I saw.” Eugene says. “We got that heavy rain this morning, and I was out on the porch just watching it come down when I saw her come out and head down the road towards her own house.” 

Tommy just shakes his head, “alright so she was there. You and I both know that doesn’t mean anything. They were probably just having breakfast.” 

You were, in fact, having breakfast. Joel had fried up a few eggs and you had brought over a loaf of bed to have some toast. The two of you ate your breakfast and sat there, watching the rain through the window as you drank your coffee. Eventually, a glance at the clock told you that it was time to head home so you could get ready before your shift. You were helping out at the school today – in another life, you were a substitute teacher to get through grad school, and while you’re a bit of a Jack-of-all-trades nowadays, you still find yourself slipping into the classroom from time-to-time. 

“Alright, thanks for breakfast, I’ve gotta head home.” You told Joel as you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, watching as he put away the last dish you’d washed and dried. 

“Are you sure I can’t talk you into staying for another cup of coffee?” Just like every time you’re over for breakfast, Joel refused to let you wash your coffee mug right away, just in case you want another, he always says.

“Joel Miller? Offering to give away even more of his coffee? That’s crazy talk. You keep that up and people are liable to think you’ve been body snatched.” You laughed as you headed to the front door to lace up your shoes. You didn’t notice the way Joel pauses for a moment, glancing back into the kitchen as if to confirm he’s still got an extra can tucked away high in the pantry where you wouldn’t think to look. 

“At least take a jacket. You should’ve brought one.” Joel moved to grab his raincoat from the hall closet.

“It wasn’t raining when I left. Besides, a little rain never killed anyone.” You smiled. 

“I don’t know about that, you might be sweet enough to melt.” Joel teased.

“You’re incorrigible, Joel Miller. I’m fine, I’m only going over two streets to go get ready. I can dry off and grab my own jacket before I head to the school.”

“Yeah, alright. Have a good day.” Joel knew he'd lost, it’s always a battle of stubborn will between you and it was his turn to give in. 

With the rain pouring down around you, you gave Joel a quick wave before setting off towards your house. It was the type of heavy rain where you just keep your head down and trudge through to your destination. You meant what you said, you didn’t mind the walk in the rain, but it did keep you from really noticing Eugene watching from a few porches down as you departed. 

“Nah, it was too early to be decent. Hell, I couldn’t even tell you why I was up. Maybe the storm woke me.” Eugene tells Tommy, now that he’s done recounting the way he saw you leave this morning.

Instead of continuing to focus on your alleged walk of shame, Tommy takes the opportunity to joke with Eugene. “Ah, that old man sleep schedule.” 

Before either man can say anything else, Tommy feels someone coming up behind him. 

“You’re no spring chicken yourself, anymore.” Joel knocks shoulders with Tommy, joining their conversation. 

Whether Eugene agrees with Tommy’s assessment of a casual, platonic breakfast or not, he takes the hint to drop the conversation while the brothers start bickering. Even if Tommy completely missed the point Eugene was trying to make. There’s no way you would have been out in that weather early enough for breakfast, and even if you had been crazy enough, you would have had a jacket.

No, Eugene knows what he saw and what it meant. Tommy can think whatever he wants, but Eugene is sure you didn’t just go over for breakfast, but woke up and had it there. At the end of the day, he’s amused but it’s really none of his business so when the next conversation comes along, Eugene lets it go. There’s no point in bringing it up any further yet, but maybe he’ll keep an eye on you two and see if he notices anything else. 

A week later, Dina heads towards the front gates, waiting for Jesse to return from another patrol. She knows how proud he’s been to get to go on more and more patrols, and today he’s out  with Joel again, just the two of them. Dina’s only been on a few patrols so far, and she knows Jesse likes patrolling with and learning from Joel the best, but she prefers your style of teaching. She likes Joel and he knows what he’s doing, but you feel like a cool aunt, or a fun older sister, even out on patrol. Dina misses Talia, and while neither of you are trying to replace the people you’ve lost, it’s nice to have someone in that familial role. 

Today, she gets to go out on patrol with you, taking over after Jesse and Joel. The two of you had grabbed lunch with Ellie before you offered to go sign out the guns if Dina would get the horses, telling her you’d meet her by the gates.  

By the time Dina (and both horses) walk up to the gates, you’re already there chatting with Maria. Dina walks up to join you and you exchange her gun for the reins to your horse. 

“Alright, I’ll stop by later.” You tell Maria, turning to make sure everything is set the way you like it. Dina waves to Maria as she turns to walk away. 

“Let’s just wait a few minutes for the guys to get back and then we can head out.”

Strategically, it’s a smart choice. It means the gates only have to open once, and that you can quickly touch base and see if there is anything you should know before you head out. Selfishly, Dina’s glad to have the chance to see Jesse. Plus, she’s convinced there’s something going on between you and Joel so she’s taking every opportunity she can to pay attention. 

Sure enough, not even a minute later she hears the call to open the gates and the two of them move forward so they can meet the guys right at the opening.

Dina watches as your eyes light up with relief seeing Joel and Jesse back in one piece. She notices the way you give each of them a quick once-over for any injuries before your gaze lingers on Joel. She feels an immediate sense of satisfaction, this is the exact type of thing she's looking out for.

“Hi, you. Come here often?” You ask.

“I’ve been known to.” Joel responds, and it’s easy for Dina to see why the women of Jackson love to watch him – with that charming smile and gleam in his eyes, not to mention the accent. He’s not her type, but she gets it.

Dina takes a minute to say hi to Jesse while you and Joel talk.

“Anything we should know?” She asks, in a similar version of the conversation you and Joel are having.

“We didn’t see anything, so hopefully your route is quiet too.” Jesse tells her. 

“Okay.” Dina says, giving him a quick kiss. “I’ll see you later.”

“Be safe.” Jesse tells her.

“You be safe out there.” Joel tells you at the same time.

“Always am. Love you.” Dina’s glad she’s looking at Jesse and not towards you and Joel because her jaw drops. Sure, she thought something was going on but she wasn't expecting anything so direct.

Joel grunts back something that sounds like “love you too.” Dina doesn’t think her jaw could be any lower. She knows you’re an affectionate person but telling Joel you love him? In the middle of Jackson? And him saying it back? No way is she hearing what she’s hearing. A quick glance at Jesse’s look of astonishment reveals that she’s not the only one shocked or who heard it.

“Alright, miss Dina. Time for us to head out.” 

Dina just nods, still stunned by your matter of fact, nonchalant tone, and mounts her horse to follow you out of the gates. 

You do spend a good part of patrol talking about people in Jackson (general), relationships (hers) and rumors, but you never mention what you said to Joel. She has so many questions but doesn’t want to scare you off, or make patrol weird. No, she’ll keep waiting and watching and bring it up later. 

The next day, she stops by lunch with everyone to grab a sandwich and is delighted to see Tommy and Ellie eating together.

“Oh my god.” She says, in lieu of a greeting.

“Good afternoon to you, too.” Tommy says while Ellie just nods with a mouthful of food. 

“You’ll never guess what I heard yesterday?” She’s so excited she doesn’t give them a chance to answer before continuing, “so, as you know we had patrol after Joel and Jesse and we met them at the gates to switch off and right before we left, I heard her tell Joel she loves him. And he said it back!” She’s nearly yelling, she’s so excited.

“Okay.” Tommy says, before taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Okay? Okay! This is big news!” She exclaims.

“Dina, I hear you. But, I’ve been hearing her say that since high school.”

“No way, this was romantic. Trust me.” Ellie snorts as Dina digs her heels in. 

“I thought that too. It’s easier when you just accept it.” He shrugs.

“I dunno, Tommy. They do look pretty damn cozy lately.” Ellie adds in Dina's defense. “But then again, it is Joel, so.” Dina’s smile fades as she groans in reply to Ellie.

“Exactly, it’s Joel. Joel!” She tries again.

“What’s this about Joel?” You ask, walking up to the table with your own plate in hand. 

“Ah, Dina’s just telling us about you telling Joel you love him.” Tommy pointedly ignores the look Dina is giving him to be quiet, and tells you the exact thing she’s trying to avoid him saying.

“Tommy what the fuck?” She bursts out and you just laugh.

“Oh, fair enough.” You say, sitting down. Dina watches, exasperated as you unwrap your sandwich and start eating. No, it doesn’t matter how Tommy denies it and you play it off, she’s positive something is going on. And she’s going to keep watching until she has complete proof. She was already on a mission, but now she's determined to double down. While you start talking with Tommy, she scoots over closer to Ellie, roping her into her plan. 

It takes another week for the girls to come up with their plan and get everything ready, but it’s finally time. Ellie has talked Joel into another movie night and Dina has gotten you to promise that you’ll attend, not that it took much convincing. 

They almost go so far as to ask Maria what kind of movie you should watch, but decide against it, worrying that she’d tell you their scheme. They do tell Tommy, much to his amusement. 

“Hold on, so your big plan is to watch a movie with them, and just see what they do?” The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement. “And you think this will be different from any other movie you’ve watched with them, because…?”

“We have a plan, Tommy.” Ellie says, almost defiantly.

“Yeah. I asked her about what movies she likes on patrol, and talked her into looking at the library to see what they have. She found a few she said she liked that we brought back. This way it’s something she already knows, and they have options.” Dina nods as if this is the lynchpin of their entire plan. 

“Plus, Dina will pretend to get a headache and go home and I’ll ‘fall asleep’ on the couch so they’ll think it’s just them but I can watch them.” She’s so excited about it, it brings a genuine smile to Tommy’s face.

For a minute, Tommy is thrown back 20 years, instead of Ellie, it’s Sarah scheming over the two of you. He tries so hard to see them each as their own person, but sometimes, in moments like this, he can’t help but see the similarities. But he can’t say that, so instead he just smiles.

The girls spend the rest of the day excited and finally, it’s time to head over for dinner. They’re full of excited energy as they meet you and Joel at the house, and instead of going off to Ellie’s room like they normally do, they sit with you in the kitchen while you cook, talking about a little of everything until Joel finally cracks and sends them to the living room, “It's not that big of a kitchen, it’s gonna take twice as long if you’re hovering.”

You just laugh and wink at Dina as the girls groan and go to the living room.

“They’re in good spirits today.” You say.

“Teenage girls, still the same as 20 years ago apparently.” Joel grumbles, but you see through it to know that he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Who would have thought at our big age we’d still be surrounded by them?” You pause your stirring and share a smile with Joel. You miss Sarah more than anything, and are glad to have Ellie and Dina in your lives, even when they’re being ridiculous. 

Without the constant interruptions, you two finish making dinner and call the girls to the table to eat. It’s a practiced routine with you and Joel dishing out food around each other listening to Ellie’s recount of her day. 

You’re not entirely sure what’s up during dinner but it’s clear that the girls are up to something . The little looks between the two of them, the way they keep giggling when they mention movie night. You’re just not sure what. Dina had the great idea to check out the movie selection at the Grand Teton library on patrol so you know you’ve got a couple of new options and you can’t think what might be causing it. Oh , you realize, one of the movies you grabbed was Dirty Dancing, the title is probably what’s giving them the giggles.

With that mystery solved, you turn your attention back to your dinner, leaving the girls to their own amusement. By the time dinner is done, they seem to mostly contain themselves so you send them off to pick a movie in the other room while you and Joel do the dishes. 

“What is with the giggling?” Joel says, the second you hear laughter coming from the other room.

“My best guess? We grabbed Dirty Dancing. I think the title is setting them off.” You shrug as you scrub the next dish.

“Could be.” Joel muses. 

It doesn’t take long for you to finish the dishes and dry your hands. Before you can make your way to the living room, Dina and Ellie come back to the kitchen.

“Dina’s got a headache!” Ellie nearly yells. It’s almost laughable, only Ellie would shout next to someone with a headache. 

“Yeah, sorry, I think I need a rain check on movie night.” Dina says, almost looking sheepish.

“Alright, honey. You want to go up to Ellie’s room and lay down? I can grab you a cool cloth.” You offer, concerned.

“No, that’s okay, I’m just gonna head home.” Dina says with a small shrug.

“Why don’t we save the movie for another night? We can play a game with Ellie instead.” You look over at Joel who nods in agreement.

“No!” Both girls yell, startling you and Joel.

“Dina doesn’t mind.” Ellie says.

“Yeah, I don’t want you to miss out. I’ll watch another time!” Dina adds. You and Joel exchange a look but frankly, you don’t have the energy to try and decipher every bit of teenage weirdness from the girls so you just agree. Dina gets sent home with a couple of cookies you were going to share during the movie, a hug, and a promise to you to get some rest. 

You and Joel turn back to the dishes to finish cleaning up while Ellie walks Dina to the door.

“That was fucking perfect, I don’t think they suspect anything.” Ellie says, louder than she intends. In the kitchen, you have to bite back your laughter. Truthfully, you’re not sure what this performance has been about, but you definitely suspect something is up with Dina. Even if you didn't, Ellie's momentary inability to whisper would have looped you in.

“Okay, you’ll have to tell me everything.” Dina says.

“Tomorrow at breakfast.” Ellie nods, seriously, as if they’re discussing battle plans and not an attempt to catch you and Joel in a romance. 

Dina leaves and Ellie meets you and Joel in the living room. She claims the slightly larger of the two couches, and sprawls out hoping it will push you two to sit closely on the other.

“How does one small person take up so much space?” Joel teases. Ellie just lifts up a middle finger in response while you laugh. 

You toss her a blanket as you cross the room towards the small stack of VHS tapes. 

“I’m thinking Raiders of the Lost Ark. It’s one of my favorites, I think you’ll like it, El.” Joel just laughs, knowing how many times you’d bring it over for movie night back in the day.

“Sure.” Honestly, Ellie doesn’t care what you watch tonight, since her focus is going to be on you and Joel. 

With that decided, you pop the tape in the VCR and grab a blanket for yourself. You make your way back to the couch and Ellie nearly jumps for joy when you curl up right next to Joel like you always do. 

As Joel extends an arm on the back of the couch behind you, he raises one eyebrow at Ellie, trying to figure out why she’s being so damn weird. When she gives him a thumbs up, he’s no less confused but brushes it off as Ellie being Ellie. 

She makes sure to get cozy at an angle where she can see the tv and you and Joel, but you won’t have an easy glimpse to know whether or not she’s awake. A few minutes into the movie she makes a point to yawn, and then she does it again a few minutes later. Damn, she thinks, this does look like a good movie, but it’ll be worth it to watch you and Joel. She’ll just have to see if you want to watch it with her again sometime. 

Not even twenty minutes into the movie, you look over at Ellie and nudge Joel, “she’s out cold.” 

Joel moves to reach for the remote before you can stop him, “no, it’s okay. Let her sleep, she and I can watch it another time.” Joel just nods and when he moves back, his arm falls from the back of the couch to around your shoulders. Ellie thinks she deserves some kind of award for feigning sleep during this. 

With Joel’s arm around your shoulders, one of your favorite movies on the tv and a cozy blanket draped over your laps, you’re happy as a clam and contentedly drop your head to Joel’s chest. The two of you stay that way for the rest of the movie. On the one hand, Ellie considers your cuddling a win. On the other hand, she was definitely hoping for something more exciting. Though she does eventually actually fall asleep, but she won’t tell Dina that part. 

The next morning, she’s wide awake the second her feet hit the floor for once, ready to meet Dina for breakfast. She tosses out a “good morning, going to breakfast, bye” all in one breath before she runs out the door. 

Dina’s already waiting for her with two plates when she gets to breakfast, and she eagerly fills her in on what happened after she left. It doesn’t take long for them to spot Tommy and wave him over to share their information.

“Them cuddling during a movie? During Raiders? Sorry, kiddos, been there done that. Literally.” Tommy offers them a sympathetic smile.

“You can’t ruin this for us, Tommy. Something’s up with them.” Ellie insists.

“Whatever you say.” Tommy laughs and shakes his head before saying goodbye and heading off to work for the day.

This time, he does mention it to Maria when they’re chatting after dinner. 

“Honestly, hon, I don’t know why everyone is suddenly so focused on them. They’ve been like this forever. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been convinced that they were finally getting together. It’s always ‘no, Tommy, we’re just friends’, ‘Tommy it’s platonic’, ‘she’s just a friend, Tommy’ so I finally was like fine! Short of them fucking making out in front of my face, it’s all platonic.” Tommy’s being overdramatic and Maria is having a hard time keeping a straight face. 

“I’m sorry to say, I also think that there’s something going on there.”

“Oh, not you too.” Tommy groans.

This afternoon, it was Maria’s turn to stop by the store to get what passes for groceries nowadays. They still have some things in the pantry, and later this week they’re having a birthday dinner for you, so she mostly focused on grabbing some produce and meat. 

She had looked over and saw Joel entering the store. They exchanged a pleasant nod and she continued with her shopping while Joel began his. Joel seemed to be a man on a mission and quickly gathered what he needed, with them both arriving at the front at the same time. 

With a slightly larger basket, Maria gestured to let Joel go first. 

Joel set his purchases down on the counter where it could be marked off for inventory purposes. Maria glanced down and saw sugar, flour, eggs, and some applesauce. With a nod, Dominique reached under the counter and grabbed what appeared to be a container of spices. Wordlessly, Joel pulled a can of coffee out of his bag in exchange.

“Normally you’re taking home the coffee, not bringing it back.” Maria couldn’t help herself from saying. 

“Well, her birthday’s coming up.” Joel scratches the back of his neck and shrugs. “Her favorite has always been spice cake, and I asked Dominique a while ago to keep an eye out for any spices I could use.” 

Maria’s heart melted. Coffee is hard to come by, and it’s long been a running joke in Jackson that now that they’ve got a steady supply, nothing could come between Joel Miller and his daily cup. But to see him willingly handing over an entire can of it, just to get something for you, is something she never expected from him.

“You were in luck, too. I almost feel bad asking for the whole can in return.” Dominique joked, despite taking the coffee anyways.

“Thank you, mighty appreciated.” Joel nodded, grabbing the rest of his goods to put in his bag before delicately placing the spice jar on top. 

Maria wanted to say more, but it was clear that was enough sentimentality for Joel as it was. So instead, she said, “well, I, for one, am looking forward to this Friday night birthday party. It’s nice to be able to celebrate things even though it’s not how it used to be.”

Joel simply nodded in return, but one glance at the look in his eyes told Maria that he was visiting a faraway time, a time where he could have gotten you a cheap cake from the supermarket, ice cream, and easy, store bought presents. If she could have seen in his mind, she’d have heard years of singing each other happy birthday with laughter – his, yours, Tommy’s, their parents, and Sarah’s. She’d have seen the way that Sarah insisted on learning how to make a spice cake every year, even though you promised you’d have been just as happy with chocolate cake, or vanilla; the way your eyes would always light up with the first bite, the perfect mix of the spices in the cake with the frosting (regular, not cream cheese, thank you very much). 

She couldn’t see any of that, but she could see Joel’s love for you in this simple act of preparing to bake a cake. So, much like the other residents of Jackson, including their friends lately, she filed it away to tell Tommy. 

“Alright, I’ll admit, you make a compelling argument. I guess that’s what I get for marrying a lawyer.” Tommy jokes, pulling her into his lap. “Still, they’ve always been close. I’m telling you, they’re just friends. After all this time, I’ve given up hope of matchmaking them.” He jokes. 

“You never know.” Maria teases, laying her head on her husband’s shoulder, before changing the subject slightly to what’s planned for your birthday party and who is responsible for what. 

The next few days fly by for your group as everyone is looking forward to getting together. Naturally, everyone spends all of their time together anyways but it’s nice to have an event planned, something to look forward to that celebrates something like Maria told Joel. 

Tonight’s party is being held after dinner, and has your closest friends and family. You’ve got a big flannel on over a comfortable dress that lives at the back of your closet for every celebration under the sun and Ellie plopped a homemade, paper birthday crown on your head. Everyone has finished their dinner and Joel disappeared for a moment before bringing out a cake. Which, admittedly, made you tear up. It’s the end of the world and he’s still making you a birthday cake, you shake your head at the thought.

“Alright, thank y’all for comin’. I know I don’t usually host or make a big speech, but bear with me just a minute.” Joel stands, with a drink in hand, looking around the bar at everyone gathered for your birthday: you, Ellie, Dina, Jesse, Maria, Tommy, and Eugene. The best of your community, as far as you’re concerned. 

“Someone often tells me that it’s okay to celebrate, the big things and the little things. Hell, she’s been telling me that most of my life. So today, this one’s for you, darlin’. It’s hard work to keep a place like this running and lord knows how much we all owe Tommy and Maria, but we also owe it to you. To the way you volunteer for a little bit of every job, take care of everyone, and I’m sure everyone agrees that we owe you a big thank you for putting up with me and keeping me as in line as you can, all these years.” Joel says, laughing when Tommy bursts out laughing. 

“I love you, honey. I ain’t got any candles but you’ll just have to close your eyes and make a wish anyways.” 

Tommy watches Joel tuck you into his side and press a kiss to the top of your head while you close your eyes to make your wish and blow out the lighter Eugene offers. It’s such a familiar scene to Tommy that he can almost picture Sarah sitting on your other side, waiting to help you cut and serve the cake. He’s so busy thinking about the life you all deserved that he nearly misses seeing you open your eyes, and lean up to press a kiss to Joel’s lips.

“Hold on, what ?!” Amidst the chorus of ‘happy birthday’ that’s starting, Tommy is staring at you two, wide eyed.

“What do you mean ‘what’, Tommy Miller?” You’ve got a mischievous smile on your face as you grab the knife from Maria and start cutting the cake. 

“Ain’t you been the one tryin’ to get us together all this time?” Joel adds.

“Well, I was. But the two of you are hopeless so I gave up. Years ago. You’re just friends. That’s what you’ve been saying, that’s what I’ve been telling everyone.” Tommy throws his hands in the air, exasperated, as though the two of you have organized all of this just to frustrate him.

“I mean we were, and then we weren’t.” Joel adds, unhelpfully. 

“Tommy, we haven’t exactly been subtle,” you laugh, “I’m pretty sure Jesse saw us holding hands a few weeks ago.” You nod your head towards Jesse who doesn’t get his chance to finally say I told you so before Tommy cuts him off. 

“He said you were passing the library, Joel always had to hold your hand passing the bookstore so you wouldn’t wander off and buy the whole fucking store.” 

“He was holding my hand long before we got to the library.” You smile, leaning back into Joel.

“That’s what I said!” Jesse whispers to Dina, who tucks her head into his shoulder and giggles.

“Okay fine, so you were holding hands.” Tommy concedes.

“Right, and I know Dina heard me tell Joel I love him before patrol one day because y’all were talking about it the next day.” Dina’s giggles continue. 

“You’ve been telling him that for decades. Hell, you tell me and Maria you love us. I don’t see you kissing us.” 

“I didn’t know either of you wanted me to, sugar.” You wink at him. “But nah, fair enough. Well, he never said anything to me but I think Eugene saw me leaving Joel’s too early to be decent one morning.” Your voice trails up, unsure.

“I did.” Eugene confirms, very matter of fact. 

“Though he might not have said anything.” You add, assuming that maybe he hadn’t since it had never gotten back to you or Joel.

“No, I did that too.” Everyone laughs. Eugene might be a cranky old man, but damn does he love his gossip. But you have to earn the right for him to like you enough to include you in it, and all of you at this table have been lucky enough to have been brought into the fold. 

“How many times in school did I come downstairs and you were already there for breakfast? Half the time you came over with breakfast in exchange for a ride to school and half the time you’d fallen asleep studying or watching a movie with me right there too. How was I supposed to know this time it was different?” Tommy continues ranting.

“Tommy, have you been watching my girl all this time?” 

“How the hell could I not, Joel? Everywhere I’ve gone for decades it’s ‘are they together’, ‘have they finally kissed’, 'are they sleeping together', nobody wanted you two together more than me. But no, every time I thought there was something going on you convinced me it was just platonic. Excuse me for finally believing you.” Tommy’s doing a remarkable job keeping up the facade of being annoyed, but you can tell how delighted he is for the two of you.

“Okay, so my brother and my best friend are together. Finally, after all these years. It’s all I’ve wanted, so why the hell do I feel cheated?” He finishes his rant with an exaggerated sigh.

“In our defense, we really thought you knew. Don’t think I don’t know that Miss Dina and Miss Ellie over there have been watching our every move.” Ellie looks sheepish for once at having been caught. 

“Well regardless of who knows or not”, Joel cuts back in, “I wanted to thank all of y’all for helping me put together this party for the best woman I’ve ever known. I don’t know why you put up with me, with any of us” Joel says with a wink to Ellie, “But we’re sure glad you do. Happy birthday, baby. Let’s have some cake.”

“Oh fuck yeah, finally!” Ellie yells as she squeezes past Maria to grab one of the first slices of cake. She’s never had spice cake before but Joel has told her about it, how it’ll be the first one he’s been able to make for you in years. It's been a monumental effort for her not to have ruined the surprise for you and she's pretty proud of herself, and ready to finally try it.

Sure, Tommy had a point, or several, with the reason he assumed you two were still platonic but Joel still can’t believe his brother didn’t know you had gotten together. Joel doesn’t need a mirror to know that he looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky. He’s still got one arm around you, and looks down to see you laughing at something with Dina and Jesse while you’re scooping a bite of cake into your mouth. When that first bite hits your tongue, your eyes light up at the familiar flavor that you never thought you’d get to experience again.

Joel loves you in every mood, but damn does he love the way you look when you’re happy. He knows you’ll tease him for it later, that everyone here is likely to, but he doesn’t bother waiting for you to finish your conversation as he uses his other hand to tilt your chin towards him and kiss you. You’re still finishing your cake so you end up accidentally covering him in frosting as well. 

“Oops.” You say, not at all sorry, as you grab a napkin to wipe his face. But Joel doesn’t let you, he just pulls you back in for another kiss. This one is long enough that Ellie starts complaining about “old people germs” and “public indecency”. You start laughing into the kiss before pulling away, setting down your plate to chase Ellie around the room to press a sloppy kiss to her cheek.

“I mean really, holding hands, being together at all hours, saying they love each other, saving up for a spice cake? From the two of them? Been there, done that, for over 30 damn years!” Tommy grumbles one last time to Maria as she hands him a plate of cake. In truth, he’s thrilled. He can’t keep the smile from his face as he looks at you, at the love that was there all along that you’ve finally given into. 

I hope you’re seeing this, sweetheart. He sends a thought up to Sarah, knowing that she wanted you two together as much as he always did. The world might have ended long ago, but as long as there are pockets of love and joy like this, they can keep going.

[highonmarvel]

heyy lov ur fics. saw you wanted some bucky recs so i got one. how about like bucky and reader have been dating for 2-3 months and he's always sweet to her and always making sure she was happy. he even promised to get rid of almost all of his weapons. but then he secretly didnt. he still had them, for "saftey purposes" he couldnt let anything happen to u. so he kept them in a secret room along with some pictures of u he took when he was observing(stalking) you before he entered into ur life -P1

that’s actually such a scary idea, i love it. okay, okay, you had a lot so apologises if it’s a bit different than you were expecting, but i tried, and i had fun! let me know if you like it! and my sweet sister @thehydraethereal, tell me what you think.

The Sun

Bucky Barnes: Bucky’s world revolves around you, The Sun, his sunshine, and he’ll do just about anything to make you happy, but everything to keep you safe.

CONTENT WARNING: This is a dark fic, please read content warnings here! 18+!

You’ve always been more of a glass half-full type of person, but with Bucky, you’ve really turned into a ray of sunshine—he just brings that out in you, treating you as precious as every breath he takes and as vital to life as the Sun itself. He said that to you once, when you asked why he calls you sunshine while laying your head in his lap, smiling in bliss as he stroked your hair. He said, “My world revolves around you.”

Even after three months, he still treats you with the same respect and gentleness and love and patience as that very first day, if not even more. There was only once you two had had a serious disagreement—it wasn’t really an argument, no one was angry, but it certainly could’ve been a massive dealbreaker for you.

Bucky never spoke much of his childhood, his teenage years, or even his adult ones, he only really went three years into the past, max, but you had pieced together he’s been through a lot, and so you never pushed him, but you made sure to make it clear you’d be there for him if and when he was ready to talk about it. There was a lot he did that showed you he was a war vet, and that as reluctant as he may be to admit it, he was suffering from some form of PTSD—he doesn’t like watching espionage films, or even movies with too much violence (which you don’t mind skipping, you don’t care too much for them either way), he’s sensitive to loud noises and a few times he’s jolted you out of your slumber with his nightmares, but he claims they’re much better with you than before. The metal arm also fascinated you—he said it’s made of vibranium, and you frowned at the thought of why he would need such a strong arm, but that you managed to get used to. What you couldn’t get used to, however, was his weaponry.

You had been sitting on the couch together when there was a thud from the next room over, and Bucky jumped up, soldier stance and everything, ready to go check it out. You were about to assure him it was nothing, tell him you forgot to close a window and a breeze probably knocked something over, when he slid a knife out of his boot and your breath caught in your throat. You followed the silver glint with your eyes as he stalked around the corner and then disappeared for a few moments.

“Birdie slammed against the window,” he said, relieved with a small smile, and you could hardly believe the juxtaposition between his use of the term ‘birdie’ while he held a knife securely in his hand. When you didn’t respond, staring at him with wide eyes, his brows turned downward in show of concern, and his voice came sincerely, “What’s wrong, sweetheart? It was nothing.” He incorrectly assumed the noise had scared you, but quickly came to understand when he noticed your gaze fixed on the knife.

“This?” he asked, casually, spinning the knife on his finger, but when you jumped back, he quickly hid it behind his back and cast his head downward in shame. He hadn’t meant to scare you, and though he felt bad, he couldn’t help but feel a little offended you’d think his arsenal was something to be afraid of. He’d never lay a hand on you, let alone a tool, why were you scared? Did you not trust him? He only kept this stuff to keep you safe. And besides, you knew about his slight paranoia with defence, so why did this catch you off guard? Sure, maybe the knife in the boot was a little too much for you to handle, but you seemed to take more issue with its existence rather than his convenient hiding.

“Sorry,” he mumbled an apology, managing to look up at you. “I didn’t mean to scare you, just had to make sure everything was alright.” He offered a weak smile in hopes of setting you at ease, but it faded when you stood up to confront him, shaking slightly.

“Why do you have a knife?” you asked in horror, voice raising in pitch. “What— do you just— do you just always have that on you?”

It’s the knife you’re worried about. Darling, if you knew the half of it.

“Protection,” he answered simply, innocently, not understanding your reaction.

“What— what else do you have? And— and in your house? You have to get rid of it!”

At any other time he would have pushed back on this (gently, of course), but in your frantic state he knew it wouldn’t serve either of you very well. He really hadn’t expected you to start hyperventilating about it. He switched to soothing you, holding you in his arms and promising he would get rid of all that, that you could feel safe… even though in his mind, his weapons were to make you feel safe, to keep you safe.

There’s a cupboard in Bucky’s house that’s always locked, and he tells you it’s just tools and some clutter he needs to clear out. But what you don’t know is he’s still got his shit in there. In any other circumstance, he would do anything you asked of him, but in this case, he got the impression you didn’t understand, that you were a little naïve when it came to this sort of stuff, like you’d always been sheltered and protected in a way that never needed violence. But he knows what the real world is like, and he knows what he’s got to do to keep you safe.

That was a few months ago. Now, trying to watch a film from the 40s—something with Jimmy Stewart, to grant Bucky a little nostalgia and tick another movie off your cinephile list—you both doze off, but you wake up before him. He usually wakes up earlier than you and falls asleep later, so you rarely see him asleep, only once you had to wake him up from the vivid nightmare, but here, now, he’s peaceful—his eyes are shut, his breathing is steady, his muscles aren’t tensed, this is the first time you’ve seen him lose himself to unconsciousness, and your heart swells at the realisation he feels safe enough to be so vulnerable around you.

As much as you would have loved to watch him breathe, after all the snacks you ate during the movie, your hands are sticky and you can’t really fall back asleep without washing them. On the way to the bathroom, you pause just before the door. The cupboard Bucky keeps his tools in is slightly ajar, it’s always been locked. And you’re not sure what compels you to head over to the door, but you carefully open it, wincing when it creaks slightly, before gasping at the scene.

He said he’d get rid of them! Not only are there multiple sharp blades of varying lengths, there’s more ammo that you could ever imagine needing, pistols, and a shotgun on the wall, you’re pretty sure you spot a fucking grenade, but maybe most terrifyingly is a mask. If this really was for safety (you’re really trying to give him the benefit of the doubt here) why the fuck did he have a mask? Like he was hiding behind it. He wouldn’t need to hide his identity from an intruder, he’d only need to if he was trying not to get caught if he was doing something wrong, if he was—

Bucky drops the bat to catch you before you hit the ground, wincing at the sight of your limp body in his arms. Fuck, he had stuck up a few more pictures of you earlier that day, and clearly forgot to lock the closet. The guilt from hurting you is enough to make him sick, but he’s got to figure out how to savage this.

If he just sets you right back on the couch and puts on some kind of thriller movie, you’ll think it was a dream when you wake up again, right? That your subconscious mind was taking in what was playing on the TV and affecting your sleep. That makes sense, that makes perfect sense, and that’s for you to figure out on your own; he won’t need to explain it or answer questions because really all it was was a bad dream, and he knows about those, you know he has experience with them, you’ll believe him when he tells you how real they can feel—you’ve seen it—and trust that everything’s alright, and he’s good to keep you safe.

After an hour, you begin to stir, and he redirects his gaze from being hyper focused on you to watching the film intently, though this far in he doesn’t know anything about the plot and hopes you don’t ask too many questions about it.

When he hears your quiet moans indicating you’re awake now, and feels your stretch beside him, he looks back at you. “Mornin’, Sunshine,” he teases, hoping you’ll giggle and say something about not realising it was dark outside. But you don’t, instead you startle and recoil back slightly, eyeing him suspiciously.

He forces his brows to furrow in confusion as he sets his half empty bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table. He tries to shift towards you but when you shift back, he sighs and stays in place.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asks in a low voice, his tone sincere and soothing. But he can tell you don’t buy it.

“You said you’d get rid of them!” you yell, and he winces slightly—you’ve never raised your voice at him, and if you’re this worked up over it it might take him a little more patience than anticipated to do some damage control.

“Get rid of what?” he asks. The best thing to do here is just play dumb.

“Your— your weapons! There’s— there’s so many of them, you said you’d get rid of them!”

“Baby, baby, baby,” he coos when you start breathing heavily, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “You just had a bad dream, okay? It’s alright…”

“No!” you shriek, kicking him away from you. “In the— in the closet!”

“What closet?”

“The— the one with the tools!”

“There’s nothing in there, sweetheart.”

“Then open it.”

He freezes for a second—he hadn’t expected you to ask that. “I don’t— I don’t know where the key is.” Fuck. He’s fucked. He knew it from the moment he hesitated, and his stuttering further solidified his guilt in your mind. His eyes grew just a little wider as he waited for you to respond, hardly breathing. You can read him like an open book, and he knows he can’t backtrack the few small ticks that set you on the scent.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him for a moment, but blink, and then nod, slowing your breaths down and directing your stare to the floor. “Alright,” you say, and Bucky himself can’t help but sigh in relief.

“I’m sorry you had a bad dream,” he coos as he shifts closer to you, and this time, you don’t shift away. He puts his arms around you and comfortingly rubs your shoulder, resting his head on top of yours.

You don’t buy it for a second.

That’s way too specific a dream for you to have months after even thinking about that stuff, and you’re not fucking stupid, you can tell what’s real and what’s not, and that was real. But for the time being, it seems easier to appease him. Maybe you really did imagine it… you doubt it, though, especially when Bucky’s body went rigid in response to your request. Even if you didn’t see what you thought you did, he’s definitely hiding something in that closet.

His phone rings, and he sighs, apologising as he carefully unwraps himself from you, reaching into his pocket to answer the phone as he stands up. “Hello?” There’s a few quick and low words from whoever’s on the other end and the groan he lets out allows you to guess it’s something Avengers-related. Though he isn’t an Avenger anymore (he gave up all violence, even in the name of justice) Sam does occasionally call him up to ask for advice on espionage matters or blueprints or just his thoughts on whatever’s going on.

“I’ve got to run, sweetheart; Sam’s being an asshole and I need to do some damage control,” he chuckles, and looks back down at you hesitantly, waiting for a response of some kind, but you’re quiet, arms crossed over your chest, slouched on the couch and looking at the floor, almost petulant but more… pensive. And that worries him.

“I can— I can stay if you want me to—”

“No,” you answer so casually it’s like something in him shatters. Sure, you’re not always grovelling at his feet when he opens the door but you’ve never been so nonchalant about him leaving to go take care of stuff. Even if it wasn’t all that sincere, you’d still make a little scene out of missing him so much. “I’ll see you later.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly shuts it, pressing his lips into a thin line as he nods, and then sighs.

He can’t leave you alone here: you’ll either run the second you can or hurt yourself trying to figure out how to get the cupboard open again. In both cases he won't be able to keep you safe, you’ll get hurt. But you’re also not yourself right now, and he doesn’t want to come on too strong and risk scaring you off for good. Not that he’d ever let you get away.

So he leaves, locks the door, but doesn’t get in his car. Usually he would grant that you’d be able to see the red flag there but you seem hyper focused on getting to his shit and he surmises he can get away with it. Between the tall plants covering his windows, he can just about make you out, sitting completely still on the couch for a few moments, it’s like you’re not even breathing. He subconsciously finds himself holding his breath as well—Are you waiting for him to start the car? Have you noticed he didn’t take his wallet?—narrowing his eyes at you, trying to anticipate your next move.

60 seconds, and you jump up.

***

You take a very quick look around the lounge, just to really make sure he left, and with no sign of him, you start off down the corridor again to his cupboard. It’s locked, and you know better than to even try to look for the key. But you have to do something: how could you live with yourself knowing that either you’d have broken up with your seemingly perfect boyfriend for no reason at all, or ever feel at peace again when there’s this heavy suspicion just hanging there?

You don’t know how you ever learnt it but you pull a pin from your hair and unfold it, closing one eye and sticking your tongue out slightly as you wriggle it around in the key slot, muttering “Please, please, please, please, please” to yourself over and over as you strain to hear for the clicks. One, two, three clicks and it opens! And you have no idea how you did it but it’s done now. You quickly open the door and gasp. You really shouldn’t be surprised—you know it wasn’t a dream—but the double confirmation really takes the wind out of you, and you feel betrayed. He lied to you, why did he lie to you? But there’s something else you didn’t notice before. On the inside of the door, polaroids of you that you know are before you met him are hung up haphazardly with messy tape—and they’re pictures of you doing mundane tasks, your everyday life. With shaking hands, you reach towards one that you’re afraid is of you in the shower, tears collecting on your lashes. As you reach for it, your elbow hits a shotgun and it falls and fires.

You scream as you jump back, and away from the door, you come face to face with Bucky at the end of the hallway, looking horrified as if it’s you who’s doing what you’re not supposed to.

Why the fuck is this thing even loaded if it’s just sitting around? These are assault rifles and deadly tools just at the ready, all the time.

Bucky carefully calls your name, and you turn on your heel and sprint towards the bedroom door at the opposite end of the corridor, but he catches up to you way too easily. He grabs you and slams your head against the doorway, causing you to black out and fall to the floor.

***

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh fuck! How was he so careless not once but twice? What if you’d gotten seriously hurt or even killed? And he’s mad at himself but he can’t help but feel mad at you, too. Why didn’t you just leave it alone? Sure, he fucked up by forgetting to lock it but why on Earth did you push for it? It was locked this time, why were you so obsessed with this!?

He takes a few deep breaths to stop himself from launching into a panic attack. He can fix this, it’s fine, you just need a bit of time to calm down, but he has a feeling if you took a relationship ‘break’ he’d never find you again. So you can’t leave, you just need to be somewhere safe.

Bucky’s basement is hardly even a room—that’s why he keeps his weapons upstairs, and so that they’re always there when he needs them. It’s small, but big enough for a few shelves and a twin-sized mattress, it’s more a very temporary storm shelter—or a panic room, to a weaker person. There aren’t any windows, and so the thought of getting you situated there for an indefinite amount of time isn’t pleasant. He always gets up before you, and, yes, part of that is nature, and part of it is his awe for your peaceful sleeping form, a level of serenity in darkness he’s not sure he’d ever be able to achieve. The sun peaks in through the curtains and lightly bronzes your skin for a few minutes until you stir and wake up to him beside you, pure adoration in his eyes. And every morning, he knows he’d give up the light of day forever if he could only wake up next to you one more time.

***

You grimace as you wake up, feeling uncomfortable—the room feels somehow cold yet stuffy, and the mattress you’re laying on feels scruffy and a little old. You toss and turn a few times before you realise that this is real. When the thought hits, you rip your eyes open, shooting upright to scan your surroundings while your breathing gets heavier and heavier.

Your eyes land on Bucky sitting at the bottom of the stairs with a book in one hand, his metal one mindlessly twirling a thick chain between his fingers, tightening and loosening it. To test, you tug on your leg and he automatically grips tighter to the restraint, even before noticing you’re up.

“Hey, sweetheart…” he coos, setting his book down and letting go of the chain. He crouches down and sits at the bottom of the mattress, coaxing you with soothing rubs on your shin like you’re a mental patient or a wild animal, unpredictable. “How’re you feeling?”

How are you feeling? How are you feeling?

“Are you out of your mind!?” you shriek, and kick at him—it doesn’t hurt him, but he does raise his palm from your leg. Dropping his voice to a sweeter tone, he tries to calm you down. “You’re alright, you’re safe, everything’s okay, baby.”

He reaches out a hand to stroke your face but you slap it away, looking up at him with wild eyes and messy hair, you let your tone drop to a dangerous low as you warn, “Don’t… touch me.”

He gives a disappointed sigh but eventually tuts to himself in agreement. You just need to get this out of your system, it’ll be fine.

But it’s not. It’s not fine, and it’s taking a toll on him. You’ve never been like this before, so angry and irrational and erratic and unpredictable, but that’s not what he minds. He can deal with you throwing insults his way, swinging at him (in vain, of course) or resorting to silence, but what really starts to tick him off is when you refuse to eat. He let it slide the first day, tried to play it cool and just left the tray down for you, but he went upstairs and nervously paced back and forth until the morning. When he came down with breakfast, he discovered you hadn’t so much as touched your meal, not even the tray itself, and though he asked you in an even tone to eat something (and got nothing but silence in return) it was worrying him, he nearly wanted to plead with you, but he knew if he cracked you’d see a weak spot and keep ramming it until you get your way, and he can’t have that.

It’s the third day now, and he finally decides he needs to feed you. He sits down in front of you and pulls the tray towards him, scooping up some rice on a plastic spoon. He holds the food to your lips but you keep them shut tight, even when he gently pokes your mouth a few times. He’s sure you can see the stress you’re causing him: he’s hardly sleeping, as shown by the bags under his eyes, and he can’t even go for a jog to clear his head in case you do something crazy while he’s gone. With a deep breath, he sets the spoon down and leans back, considering his next move. Maybe you’d drink a smoothie. Not ideal but better than nothing.

“Alright,” he huffs as he stands up. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna make you a smoothie.”

He’s only just turned his back when he hears clattering, and when he looks back to you, you’ve got fury etched onto your features and the food he so carefully and lovingly prepared for you is strewn across the floor.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” he bellows, and backhands you, sending you to the floor. With your mouth agape, you clutch your cheek and look up at him in shock. He’s never even raised his voice at you, let alone yelled, let alone lay a finger on you. “Just fucking listen to me! Eat!” He kicks the tray further back and you startle, paralysed by pure shock.

He takes a deep breath in, and a long huff out, clenching his fists at his sides. His blue eyes you had once thought of as calm oceans are ablaze, he’s shaking with anger, and his voice quivers as he tries to speak in a level tone to you. “I… am going to make you a smoothie, and you are going to drink it, or you’ll never see the sun again.”

When he slams the door shut behind him, you finally allow tears to fall. You don’t know what that threat means—will he never let you out? Will he kill you? At first you didn’t think so, even when he held you down as you screamed and kicked, but you never thought he’d hit you either, you never thought he was capable of such rage, and though he kept it relatively under control, you saw what that was. It wasn’t just ire, it was like flames licked his entire being, engulfing him and lighting him up. While you thought of him as your Sun, now, that was for a different reason—now, he feels like the actuality of the star: unpredictable and unbearably dangerous, but… necessary for survival, and inescapable.

✪

[my beloved taglist; @cowboysnbugs, @buckys-wintersoldier, @keito-123, @vogueprincess, @cjand10]

[feyascorner]

1 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Sometimes, you wonder if letting him ascend would mean he would still be here, by your side, rather than lurking the shadows of Baldur's Gate.

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. very excited about this!!!! I have a lot of ideas on what to do w this plot!!! ALSO there is some material (pressuring??) in this specific chapter that may be a bit uncomfortable for some readers it's very brief, but it is there so please take care of yourself!

As dark spots blur your vision, you realize you can no longer breathe.

His hands–the slender pale fingers you’ve grown to love more than your own–wrap desperately around your throat, digging crescent-shaped indents into your skin. You’d always thought that if he were ever to realize you weren’t as precious to him as he believed you to be, your neck would be the one part of yourself he’d continued to cherish. The softness in which he brushed his fangs against the most vulnerable areas of your throat had led you to believe so.

But as you stare up at him with wide eyes meeting a murderous glare, you understand that you are wrong.

His crimson eyes gleam with an emotion you’ve seen plenty on his pretty face, but never toward a friend. Never to you. You’re going to die, you think. And it wouldn’t have seemed so bad to die at his hands if it were not for the hatred reaching his eyes.

You’re not sure who–maybe Karlach or Wyll–but someone tears him away from you. Your chest dares to tighten from the loss of contact, yet you desperately grasp at the air, hands flying to the tender flesh of your neck while Shadowheart rushes to your side in an instant with her eyes narrowed dangerously at the very man who’d made the dark blemishes.

They’re yelling. Everyone is. At you, out of panic, or at Astarion, you’re not sure, but you just stare at the vampire spawn who’s now unwillingly locked into a life cast into the shadows of the city. He doesn’t look at anyone else, either.

He says something and a few more muffled voices spit back before he throws the dagger you’d given him to the ground, turning to leave. Your hearing clears just in time to hear his parting words.

“I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.”

A pair of hands shake you awake, and you quickly remember the poor consequences to your back of falling asleep on the empty, narrow street beside the Elfsong tavern. You look up wearily, eyes in a daze as Shadowheart sighs irritably, brows furrowed in a way that tells you to ready yourself for a scolding. “Honestly, at this point, I’m just surprised you haven’t gotten robbed during the night yet.”

You force yourself onto your feet, leaning against the walls as you rub at the crust forming under your eyes. “I have nothing of value anyway. They’re better off stealing from some other poor bard who actually bothers to write songs.”

She raises a brow at this, scanning over your appearance. “Where is your lyre?”

“Sold it,” you shrug, dusting off the muck garnered at the sides of your pants. “Wasn’t much use to me anymore. Better off adding to the funds to rebuild the city, don’t you think?”

Shadowheart frowns, and it makes you look away shamefully. Thankfully, she quickly shakes her head and then paces past you. “Speaking of which, are you in any condition to help today? Gale’s promptly exhausted trying to cast mage hand at least a dozen times yesterday to rebuild the Blushing Mermaid. That foolish wizard nearly passed out by noon.”

“‘Course,” you offer a pathetic smile. “We’re nearly finished with the Baldur’s Mouth. I’ll catch up with you once I check on everyone there.”

“Very well,” she says. She purses her lips after a slight pause. “You should stop falling asleep on the street. Especially since there’s been quite a few murders recently around the city,” she checks to see if you haven’t dazed off, “I expect you to come home tonight–We’re making stew.”

“I will. Don’t think my back can stand much more of this anyway.”

Her shoulders relax the slightest bit, and she finally manages to catch your darting eyes. “Is it the nightmares again? They’re getting worse, aren’t they?”

Your throat goes dry, and you can feel your knees grasping at its remaining strength as you search your mind for a way to respond. You’re tempted to lie through your gritted teeth, knowing she’s fully aware regardless of what pathetic answer you offer her, but you opt to seal your mouth shut, shrugging.

The flash of disappointment in her eyes is enough to make you feel the knots tighten in your stomach. With a curt note, she turns to walk away, glancing back for one last time. “Don’t give him the privilege of occupying a part of your mind for so long. He doesn’t deserve even the dirty filth you have all over yourself.”

For the first time after he nearly killed you and you defeated the Elder Brain four months ago, you think she might be right about him.

Intimacy is not something you like to indulge in after your last lover nearly strangled you to death. Though after the pitiful look your companions gave you when you arrived back at camp and the aching truth in Shadowheart’s words, you find yourself feeling bolder than the last time you dared to call Lae’zel’s cooking inedible (which it was, quite frankly). 

He’s handsome. A reasonably tall elf with pale blue eyes glinting with attraction as he stares at you across the tavern. Sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and long hair brushed back and away from his face. You only notice everything else after the silvery shade of his hair–not entirely white, but fairly close, or as close as you could get to it while still being blond. You were sure he was approaching you for your title–the famed hero of Baldur’s Gate–rather than for pure physical attraction, but you weren’t in any position to nitpick at the moment.

You just wanted to feel skin other than the unsettling feeling of your own.

“Seems to have taken a liking to you,” Shadowheart sips at her drink.

Lae’zel glances at you. “He’s tolerable to the eye. Not quite attractive by githyanki standards, but tolerable.”

You stifle a smile at their attempts to urge you forward and put down your drink. “You sure you two won’t be lonely without me?...Or kill each other.”

“You can leave them to me,” Gale smiles, pacing toward your table with his drink. “I’m sure a Hold cast or two would settle them down.”

Lae’zel snatches the cup from his hand. “You act as if you aren’t fresh out of cast slots, wizard.”

Shadowheart shakes her head, nudging you forward. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

“I won’t be long. Certainly won’t be overnight,” you assure her. “I can’t miss the stew, anyway.”

She smiles, and Lae’zel scoffs in the other direction. “Hurry, he looks almost demented waiting for your graces.”

You snort and offer a clumsy glance to the elf across the tavern before striding out the door. 

Behind the tavern, he’s quick to press a desperate kiss to your lips, lacking the usual tenderness you experienced with Astarion. Or had it been tender at all? Even now, you’re unsure what parts of him had been to manipulate you and what parts of him had been his raw feelings. At the time, you’d embraced either with open arms–you’d embraced him. 

The elf bites at your lip, which snaps you back into the waking world. And while you curse yourself for comparing the moment to him, you find that it’s impossible as you observe that this elf is slightly shorter than he’d been. And instead of his hands wandering to your hip or waist, they graze your behind, pushing you into him in a way that feels nearly suffocating. 

And most glaringly, his lips are warm. Not the cold, yet soft lips of an undead being.

You’re grateful that he keeps his eyes closed because you can simply stare at his pale hair, longing for something you vowed to forget.

It doesn’t feel right. Not at all, and you hate yourself for it.

You shove him away, face falling as you realize you want to wipe his touch away from your mouth like it’s filth, and you do. Understandably, he appears puzzled, brows furrowing as you push yourself away from the wall, shaking your head. “Sorry, I don’t think I can do this.”

But as you try to walk away, his fingers close around your wrist like a death grip, sending shivers up your spine as you find that you hate the feeling of his skin. You hate the feel of your own skin, too. Why, you’re not sure, but he leans close enough for you to feel his breath on your cheeks and yank you out of your daze. “What’s gotten into you? I didn’t do jack shit.”

“I just can’t do this,” you hiss, tugging at your hand. You could just knock him out, but the hero of Baldur’s Gate punching people as they pleased wouldn’t look too good on your end. “Let go.”

“Well, you have to give me at least an explanation,” he snaps, grip tightening. It hurts. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been sending me looks all night.”

His words seem to snap the remaining patience inside you because you elbow his stomach, shoving him backward onto his ass before pressing your dagger that seemed to appear from thin air into his neck. You haven’t had to use the knife in a while, considering how your biggest recent foe was the stinginess of patrons when it came time to pay their tabs at the tavern. Though it belongs to you, it feels foreign in your hands because, for a time, it had a different owner.

One who used this very blade against you. The same one who taught you how to elbow someone hard enough to make them reel.

“P-Please, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt you.” You’d forgotten he was there. “Just let me go, please; I won’t bother you again.”

You drop your head, sighing loudly as you sheathe your dagger once more. You think you must really be losing your mind—threatening to slice open a civilian’s throat despite the significant power imbalance between the two of you. You’re sure the greatest threat he’s faced in his life is from petty theft or something along those lines while you—well, you’re you. It’d be equivalent to a full grown owlbear attacking a goblin with a half broken club.

So, as much as you want to make him bleed just a bit, you opt to step away. “Do that again to anyone—not just me, and I won’t be so forgiving next time. Understand?”

The tremble in his irises tells you enough. You sigh again, turning to leave.

You curse your luck. Of course you would have to attract the foulest person in the tavern on a night where nothing seemed to be going correctly. Or rather, the past four months that haven’t been going as you anticipated.

Getting rid of the tadpole meant you should’ve been free from the chains of someone else—and it had, but at the cost of losing something else. And that ‘something else’ was one you weren’t sure you were ever ready to sacrifice. It should have made you happy to see the Elder Brain fall, and to rid of the squirming feeling in your skull, but all you could remember was the churning in your stomach as you realized the last string tying you to him had been snapped.

You’d gone to every tavern, every bar, playing a tune at each one until the skin at your fingers split open, because he knew you’d be there. He’d known what your lyre meant to you. Yet among the sea of faces, not once had you seen the one you wanted.

As you walk around the corner, you wrap your arms around yourself. Though Summer’s quickly approaching, there’s still a chill in the air this late at night. You pull out your dagger once more, lifting it to the sky to examine its hilt against the moonlight, which glistens with what was once your pride and love. Now, it just looks dull, and faint.

You back feels too light, now lacking the lyre. You suppose you’ll have less of a hassle moving around now, since you don’t have to worry about the strings snapping, but it doesn’t soothe you. Still, you’d sold it for good reason.

An instrument is nothing without a player who can use it, after all.

So you turn your attention back to your dagger, the last crumb he’s left for you to hold dearly to your heart, and then to the trash can perched beside a nearby wall.

You’ve tried a million times before, and you’re not sure what makes you think you’ll be successive this time, but you swallow hard in determination to rid of the thing entirely. But just as you’re about to take your first step toward it, you hear a loud, halting screech muffled instantly.

It’s from the direction you came from.

You’re breaking into a silent sprint, the weapon in your hand ready to be used. You stop before you turn the corner, readying yourself for the worst. A murder? There’ve been more than a few occurring around the city, but you’d thought the Flaming Fist were investigating that already…You can hear your blood rushing in your head, but a crunch of bone and the silence that follows afterward is all you can focus on as your grip on the hilt tightens desperately. 

Cautiously, you peer at the moonlit alleyway, poised to attack.

You nearly drop the blade.

Draped in the moonlight with his face hidden by a hood, he nearly glows, though you’re not sure if it’s just your mind playing tricks on you. His fangs are buried viciously into the man’s neck, whose legs and arms lie limply at his side while the life in his eyes slips away as if it were never there. And while you don’t dare to breathe, you stare with wide eyes, drinking in his appearance as if it would be the last. A part of you thinks it may be.

But as quickly as your heart begins to race, it calms. A drop of your stomach tells you it’s not him. You’re not sure if you’re relieved or how you know, but you can just tell.

The man finally drops the now lifeless body onto the ground with a thud, wiping at his mouth with the back of his dark sleeve. He turns, and you finally see one of Astarion’s brothers–the one who’d been at the flophouse, confirming your suspicions. Regardless, your guard stays up. “I thought you guys left for the Underdark.”

He snaps his head toward your voice, eyes wide. He looks a lot better than you’d last truly seen his face after Astarion nearly burned him against the sunlight in the flophouse. What had been his name, you try to recall? Pallet? Peter? It doesn’t matter, much. “You were at the flophouse.”

He cringes at the memory but nods. “Petras. You’re the one who stopped Astarion from killing us all, aren’t you?”

Your throat goes dry at that. You’d never thought about it in such a–vulgar way, and it makes your stomach churn, but he doesn’t give you time to respond. 

“Dalyria, Leon, and I have decided to stay for the sake of the spawn hiding in the city sewers,” he explains curtly. “My other siblings are in the Underdark with most of the spawn, as you expect them to be.”

You stare at the corpse on the ground, expression twitching as you meet his eyes. “Why’d you kill him?”

He licks his lips, stained with the man’s blood.  “I didn’t. Someone did the work for me. I just didn’t let his precious blood go to waste.” He pauses. “I’d put a few rats on betting that it’s Astarion.”

Your eyes go wide, your armed hands dropping to your side. “Astarion? He was here?”

You’d been here mere moments ago. Had he seen you? Was he watching you?

“Maybe. Judging from how quickly he ran away from the scene when he saw me, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Shoving your dagger into its rightful place on your back, you immediately turn to search for your former companion. He couldn’t have gone far. You’d been talking to the dead man mere minutes ago, and if the death occurred between now and then, he couldn’t have possibly gone more than a few buildings away–

“I never got to thank you.”

Petras looks at you anxiously, and as much as you’d like to cut the conversation short, the way he shifts nervously can’t help but keep you in place.

“There’s no need,” you reply, stopping to shake your head. You hadn’t done it for him or any of his siblings, for that matter, anyway. Not even for Astarion. Your choice to stop had been for yourself, to keep him by your side. Your brows furrow at the selfishness draping your thoughts—that you were willing to sacrifice 7000 innocent souls for the sake of protecting the one you loved. It was a lapse of judgement. Naivety. “It’s just how things turned out.”

He tilts his head but doesn’t push it any further. “Have you seen him recently? Astarion?”

“...No. He left after we—I killed Cazador.”

His eyes flicker with disappointment, and you wonder if he’s forgiven Astarion for what he tried to do in Cazador’s dungeon. “He’s always been good at hiding. Seems some things never change.”

You nod numbly. “I’ll let you know if I do see him.”

Though you doubt you ever will. Not after how things ended. But if there’s a slight chance, even the smallest of hopes, that you can bring closure to the sleepless nights you spend on the streets, staring up at a sky that no longer brightens the way it used to, you’re willing to wait until you’re shriveled up and old, while he remains beautiful.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

The painful clench in your heart doesn’t go ignored. “Have you spoken with him?”

“Once,” he says. “But it seems he doesn’t want to speak with us anymore either. You see, our conversation didn’t quite end in a happy family reunion. We did manage to ask him a few things—like asking if he was to be staying with you.”

“And?” You’re afraid to hear the answer, but your voice is far too hopeful.

Petras gives you a look of pity, and you understand.

You understand that no matter how long you wait or how long you search for him, Astarion will not be seen when he does not want to be.

“I don’t think he wants to see you right now.”

For the rest of the night, you weep. You weep in the comforts of nobody but your own arms and nobody to hear you but the moon above.

Baldur’s Gate is by no means a city that sleeps. The past four months have been a restless cycle of rebuilding the city, and while you’ve done your part, no matter how much you do, it never seems enough.

“Oh, welcome, dear. Your friends have been a wonderful help for my house as of late,” the lady of the Highberry’s Home, Cora Highberry, ushers you into her house, still missing a roof and half the windows but appearing in better shape than most other structures in the city. She offers you a wine glass. “Do you have a preference?”

“Anything’s fine,” you smile, but just as you reach for the glass, it’s snatched away by a familiar wizard’s hand.

Gale extends Cora a gentle nod and that charming grin of his as he hands her back the wine. “While we greatly appreciate your hospitality, I’m afraid my friend here is in no condition to drink as of now.”

The playful roll of your eyes makes Cora laugh. “Ah, of course. But do know I’m so grateful for all your help. I didn’t imagine we would be building the home back for the orphans so quickly!”

“It’s the least we could do,” Gale beams. “Now then, my dear friend and I will continue working on the second floor, so just give us a holler if you need us.”

He whisks you away toward the stairs before you can wave goodbye to the woman. While you’d expect him to initiate conversation, he doesn’t say anything until you arrive upstairs, where you’re mostly alone beside the few other volunteers in the other room. You tilt your head when he finally paces past you toward one of the broken windows. “Gale Dekarios keeping his mouth shut for more than a few moments? The city truly must be falling apart.”

He cracks a smile at this, dusting off a few glass shards from the windowsill. “I’m glad to see you still have your sense of charm.”

“When have I ever lacked my charm?”

He doesn’t lift his head, pulling out his spellbook and flipping through a few pages while you survey the state of the room. “You didn’t return last night.”

You tense.

“It would be wise to be grateful Karlach’s still in Avernus with Wyll, because I’m certain she would’ve given you quite the scolding for daring to miss my world-famous Wizard’s Stew,” he says lightly, his tone morphing into something more serious when he shifts his gaze in your direction. “We’re worried about you, you know. Especially Shadowheart, even if that woman doesn’t know what gentle means in every possible level of hell.”

He’s silently asking you for an explanation, and your heart breaks at how gently he prods at your walls, giving you an opportunity to slip away again. But with how his eyes plead at you, you can’t imagine that would be possible anyway. Slowly, you perch yourself on the windowsill, looking down at the bustling crowd working together to rebuild the Highberry’s porch. They’re laughing—some face red with wine, while others scold them for it. You see a bard playing a tune you haven’t heard before, but it’s effective in lifting the mood regardless, and you finally glance at Gale.

“I met one of Astarion’s brothers yesterday.”

His face is grim. “I didn’t realize they were still in the city.”

“Me neither,” you sigh. “Some of them stayed. From what I could tell, they're mostly in the sewers, but they’re definitely here.”

“Did he seem…hostile?”

“No. He just asked me about Astarion.” You leave out the part about the dead body.

Gale’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything, only silently urging you to continue. And you do.

“He doesn’t want to see me. Not ever, I think.”

There it is. The same gaze everyone seems to give you lately: pity.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” you hop off the windowsill, pacing across to the other side of the room. “If he doesn’t want to see me, I won’t. If he doesn’t want to talk to me, I won’t. I’m tired of waiting for him, Gale. I’m tired of waiting for someone who won’t ever come.”

And despite the puffiness of your eyes last night, and despite the way your eyes gloss over even now, you offer him a crooked smile. “I want to focus on the city now, for better or worse.”

Gale appears the happiest he’s been since returning a few months ago with the news that Mystra has healed him of his orb. “You thought well, dear friend. You should know how glad we are to have you back. We could certainly use more hands in the kitchen, as well, considering—well, you know how the rest of our companions are with cooking.”

Just as you open your mouth, there’s an ear-shattering scream from downstairs. The two of you meet wide eyes briefly before hurrying downstairs.

Only a few feet from the patio of the Highberry home, there’s a crowd gathering with hushed whispers and the weeping of a woman. And when you manage to push through the mountain of people, you finally see the corpse.

Cora Highberry sobs over what remains of her bloody husband, who, without a doubt, has the markings of two fangs punctured through his throat.

[vampsired]

Hobbies JJK characters would have

cast ᯓ✦: gojo, geto, shoko, nanami, haibara, utahime

GOJO SATORU

1. eating/cooking - I feel like teen gojo mostly but older gojo would also find great joy in concocting heinous meals in the kitchen like his ‘ultimate sandwich’

2. wordle - doesn’t matter how good he claims to be, he has a meltdown and a half whenever he can’t get the answer in two tries. He’ll also gasp when he forgets to do his daily wordle and does it then and there.

3. map quizzing - he claims to be good, and with full confidence says the wrong answer. But will shove it in your face if he gets it right. He’ll go through a phase every couple of weeks trying to force anyone to vers him

GETO SUGURU

1. fixing/updating his motorcycle - he’d only be able to do this when he’s at his parents house bc it’s tedious work and needs a lot of time which he doesn’t rlly have when he’s at school.

2. music - I feel like teen geto would be swamped with school and missions most of the time to fully indulge himself into music, so when he gets more time I feel like he’d post

3. photography - defo the friend who takes pics of the sunset and sends it to you like you don’t have eyes yourself. But he’s a really good photographer, everyone ask him to take their photos when they’re out. He also has a bunch of digital cameras and loves going to photo booths

SHOKO IEIRI

1. amature barista - I think she missed good coffee when she’d go back home, so she took this up to satiate her coffee addiction. But then ended up having so much fun making it at home she got a full station when she got her own home.

2. swimming - she finds swimming relaxing, whether it’s the ocean, the pool or a lake. When she was young she had a lake near her house and she’d go swimming with her friends there all summer long, she hopes to take her friends one day.

3. collects mini toys - like mini purses and doll pieces, her fav is the mini hair dryer and straighter but she absolutely cherishes the ones utahime makes her <3

NANAMI KENTO

1. baking (duh) - although he doesn’t get into bread making until he’s older, I feel like teen nanami could make gooodd brownies and cookies that aren’t sickeningly sweet

2. reading (another obvi) - teen nanami would probably like those very long and complicated fantasy series and perhaps would like crime/thriller novels. But I feel maybe as nanami gets older he likes to read more literary fiction.

3. walks - I feel like he’d love to take the subway to a less crowded area and walk around with headphones in. He especially loves places with green landscapes or rivers

HAIBARA YU

1. comic and manga collector - loves seeing his collection grow over the years and loves sharing the stuff he has with his friends for them to enjoy also

2. legos - I feel like he has an impressive lego collection at his parents house but never dares to bring the larger ones to his dorm, he has smaller builds in his dorm which are still very impressive

3. board games - probably owns games you’ve never heard of, mostly plays with either you and nanami. But sometimes the group plays if they can get the rules down. But word of advice, don’t play monopoly with utahime or gojo 0.o

UTAHIME IORI

1. jewellery making - is the friend who has a lifetime amount of beads at her disposal. Loves making friendship bracelets for you and shoko, especially to mark like special events like holiday you guys go on or just for fun

2. painting - specifically flowers and landscapes, it reminds her of the place she grew up in and how her mother used to paint the summer flowers when she was growing up.

3. mini clay pieces - using air drying clay to make some little things like tiny mugs or tiny figurines like dinosaurs. When she made some little tortoises for shoko she screamed

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[elvensorceress]

idk I get incredibly angry at homophobes being cast on my gay shows. anybody want the start of my fic where Eddie dumps her bigoted ass and then has a gay ole sexy time with his husband and his husband's new boyfriend? because here. you can have. it's cathartic 💕

test drive - 2K, BuckTommy, BuckEddieTommy, Buddie endgame forever / Explicit

The restaurant is dimly lit in a way that might be classy and romantic, but Tommy’s hand is also on Buck’s thigh. And he’s having a lot of very not-classy, not even very romantic sorts of thoughts. Everything is far more along the lines of, he could put his hand on my dick, and I know what his cock feels like down my throat, and why are we here in a public place when we could be back at my loft taking turns fucking each other until we’re both a mess of cum and lube and sweat and sexy bruises and love bites? Because all of that is way more appealing than what they are sitting here, waiting to do. 

If it were just one of their dates, it’d be great. Those are fantastic. Tommy likes to pick him up and take him to nice places and he smiles in a really, really soft cute way that also has an air of, I am going to fuck you until you scream and you will love every second. And holy fucking god, does Buck love every second. 

Bisexuality, man. Who knew? 

It’s so fantastic. It’s so different? Or maybe it’s just that Tommy is different because he’s ridiculously cool and hot and Buck always really liked when someone knew what they wanted and would take the lead and he could do everything in his power to please them and make them feel good. Confidence is infinitely sexy and competence even more so. And Tommy has all of that in spades. 

And Buck loves men. Buck really loves men. It makes so much sense and how had he never even considered? Maybe he considered but he sure as hell never realized wanting a man and being attracted to a man was something that fit so well. Fuck, it fits so well. 

Maybe he could even end up with a man someday? Maybe he could marry a man and have a relationship that is like this all the time for the rest of his life? Not that he doesn’t like women still. Women are great. People who don’t identify as either or they identify as both or however they choose— they’re great, too. 

Everyone is hot and Evan Buckley is very bisexual, and it just might be one of the greatest revelations he’s ever had. 

He’s just really, really enjoying being with a man right now. 

He is not, however, enjoying the thought of this dinner. Everything about this dinner makes his stomach a washing machine of anxiety. For no reason. He doesn’t know why. There’s nothing wrong with it. 

Why wouldn’t he and his boyfriend go on a double date with his best friend who is their mutual friend, and his best friend’s girlfriend. What is wrong with that? It’s fine. Should be— fun? 

Shouldn’t be a bad taste in his mouth that the wine still hasn’t gotten rid of and roiling in his stomach that is really killing his appetite. But it very much is. 

Tommy squeezes Buck’s thigh and rubs it in a way that surely is supposed to be comforting. But it makes Buck want to drag him out of this restaurant and back to the loft where he can show Tommy how good he is at fucking him now. Not just because it would be a thousand times better than the prospect of this dinner. The bar is so low on the ground, it’s buried at this point. But also because sex with his new boyfriend is better than— actually, Buck is having a hard time thinking of anything that is better right now. 

Very hard time. 

They’ve been practicing. Everything. Blowjobs, fucking, fingering, ball massages, prostate milking, rimming— all sorts of really fun things Buck never even imagined could feel so good. Not that he was oblivious to a lot of it. He has toys. His ex was into pegging. Buck might have been unaware of how intense and gay— well, bi. He’s bi now. Buck is bi now. Probably always was but he knows it now. He’s bisexual.— his attraction to men could be. But he was not unaware of sexual acts that feel good to his body. 

But it’s totally different with a real man and a real cock and being manhandled by someone who might actually be bigger and stronger than you is really fucking hot. 

He checks his watch again and it’s already 7:28. They’re almost half an hour late. Which is so not like Eddie. He’s not sure if Marisol is like that but he knows for sure Eddie is either fifteen minutes early for everything or he texts if there is a problem. Even then, he’s only ever a few minutes late. If that. And last Buck checked, there were no new messages on his phone. 

He checks again, and still nothing. Not even to Buck’s message of, hey u ok? u on the way? He frowns and sets his phone back on the table and turns to Tommy. “How long before I’m allowed to be really worried?”

Tommy gives him an amused smile. “You can be worried.”

“How long before we need to bother Athena? Ten more minutes? Five? Sh-should I bother Athena now?”

Tommy’s eyebrows scrunch and he looks at Buck like he’s crazy. Okay, it’s probably crazy. Just. He’s worried? That must be the churning in his stomach. “I’m sure Eddie’s fine. It hasn’t been that long. And he’s Eddie.”

Yeah. Yeah, he’s Eddie. But Eddie was also shot downtown in the middle of broad daylight and nearly bled out all over, and there’s not much anyone can do even if they are trained in hand to hand combat and self-defense and those kinds of things. Not many ways to defend against a sniper round that shouldn’t even be a thing. 

Not that Buck is thinking about that. Ever. 

He’s just turning into a washing machine over this dinner. That’s all. 

Five minutes later, some of it finally eases when Eddie finally shows up and sits down across from them. Alone. 

Alone?

“Sorry, guys,” Eddie runs a hand through his hair and breathes like he’s run a hundred miles. He’s hardly been looking distressed at all lately. He’s been glowing smiles and pretty laughs. Not pretty. Nice? Good? Good that he’s so much happier and at peace. 

But he’s not that now. 

“I would’ve—” Eddie checks his own watch, one that was a Christmas present that Buck had engraved with, all the time you need, and must realize how late he actually is. “Fuck. Sorry. Really sorry. I’ll buy? Unless you’ve already eaten and paid and are about to leave.” 

Tommy shakes his head and has that nice smile that’s so reassuring. “We haven’t. Don’t worry about it.”

“We were waiting,” Buck adds and itches to ask him what’s wrong, why he’s late, why he looks— like he isn’t okay. 

“Great.” Eddie nods tersely and it sounds anything but great. “They got anything stronger than wine and cocktails here? Because—” He doesn’t say. But he does make a face the conveys everything. 

“Doubt it,” Tommy says. “But we can get something somewhere else. Is Mar— Mari?”

“Marisol,” Buck supplies. Not that it matters. Not that he cares. Is he supposed to care? There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s fine. 

“Right,” Tommy says, which should say everything. Eddie’s been hanging out with Tommy for months, Buck’s been with Tommy for months, and Tommy is pretty damn good at remembering people’s names. “Marisol. Is she still on the way?”

Eddie’s jaw gets very tight. “No. We’re done.” 

Tommy looks at Buck and Buck looks at Tommy. They’re done? They broke up? Not that it’s particularly surprising. Part of the curse of dating someone you met on a call. Gotta be. Also the whole thing where Eddie has some kind of commitment issues or something because as soon as he gets a girlfriend, he has to spend all his time doing anything besides being with said girlfriend.

“So, drinking?” Tommy says. 

Buck pushes his wine glass across the table. They usually share when they eat together. Drinks, food, anything. And he’s happy to offer it to the cause. 

“Yes, drinking.” Eddie takes Buck’s wine and downs all of it. 

Eddie’s single again. Marisol isn’t coming to dinner and she’s not part of their lives any longer. Not that Buck has a problem with her. She’s fine. She was nothing really. That wasn’t going to last. Eddie likes the idea of being with someone. So he says. He’s allergic to actually having a relationship for some reason. 

The washing machine in Buck’s stomach disappears though. Which is so much better. Now, it’s just Buck hanging out with his best friend and his boyfriend. 

Maybe there’s a little washing machine. It’s nothing though. 

They order food and drinks, and Eddie only goes through a couple shots and three glasses of wine and one beer. But he eats and also drinks water and doesn’t seem inebriated at all. So, they focus on the meal and Tommy’s latest work stories of helicopter rescues. 

It’s not until after Buck discreetly hands their waiter his credit card before they’re actually brought the bill, that Eddie actually starts talking.

“I kind of fucked up. Didn’t mean to. I owe you an apology,” he says and looks at Buck with worlds of regret and sorrow. 

Whatever it is, Buck forgives him. He’s sure he’s done far worse than whatever it is. “Why? What, uh, what happened?”

Eddie doesn’t look at him. Or Tommy. He does shake his head but not like he’s saying no. More like he’s disgusted. “I let it slip that you two are— that you’re. Dating. Together. Boyfriends? Do you call each other that? Are you boyf— never mind, I let it slip. I’m sorry. That was my bad. Not my secret to tell.”

Tommy looks scrunched and confused again and Buck— he doesn’t understand what the problem is? No, he hasn’t told many people yet. But it’s not a secret that he and Tommy are together. 

“Eds,” Buck says and immediately thinks he probably shouldn’t have called him that. He doesn’t know why. But he shouldn’t. “It’s fine. I’m not— It’s not a secret. I’m not hiding. Or— or in the closet? I’m out. Now. I’m bi and—” And he’s really happy about that. He really loves it. He’s bisexual. He loves women and men and whoever regardless of gender. And holy shit, does he love men right now. He really, really loves being with a man. He looks to his side and grins brightly at Tommy. “And I’m not ashamed or embarrassed that Tommy and I are together.”

There’s a cute half smile that curves the side of Tommy’s mouth and Buck so wants to kiss him. And do all sorts of other things with him. 

“Well. Good.” Eddie taps his finger on an empty shot glass like he’s contemplating ordering another. “Still. Didn’t go well. Didn’t mean to out you like that.”

“Didn’t go well?” Tommy asks. “Saying that Evan and I are dating didn’t go well?”

Eddie purses his lips and does a slow, exaggerated shake of his head. “Nope. But at least I learned that now. Has the waiter brought our check yet? Because I’m just going to drink more if I don’t head out soon. Not that I’m sad about her or anything. I’m pissed. You think you know someone, and no. No, she’s a raging homophobe.”

She— oh. Oh, that’s what happened. “She broke up with you because we’re gay? Bi and gay? Or— you know what I mean.” Is Tommy gay? Or bi? Or something else? Buck hasn’t actually asked what label he uses. How he qualifies his sexuality. He felt weird asking. It’s so personal. Is he supposed to ask? All he knows is that Tommy was into him. Tommy kissed him and it was breathtaking, incredible, magnificent and changed Buck’s whole life. He didn’t really think anything beyond that. Couldn’t really think beyond that. 

Eddie definitively points at himself and then at phantom nothingness. “I dumped her. Because I said this was a double date with you guys and she said, well not really, and I said, no really. It’s a double date. Her and me and both of you. Double date. Except not her. Ever. Anymore. Because she had to go off about how it was wrong and made her uncomfortable and I ‘let both of you be alone with Christopher?’ And it couldn’t possibly be a date like me and her would go on a date because she’s a woman and I’m a man and that was normal. But you two are both men. Both muscular, powerful, masculine, manly firemen type men— so it could never be the same especially because neither one of you are flamey or girly or whatever, so it could never work, the two of you since neither one of you is ‘The Girl.’ Which is all bullshit. By the way. Obviously. And,” he finally stops and breathes, and there’s a hard swallow in his throat and his eyes are distant and his whole body is strung tight and if he could breathe fire? He probably would. Holy shit, he’s pissed off. Buck isn’t even sure he’s ever seen Eddie this angry at anyone who hasn’t hurt someone he loves. 

Although. Technically she did? Not hurt per se, Buck doesn’t give a shit about what she thinks of him. But she was insulting them. So. Yeah, okay, of course fiercely protective Eddie would be angry. 

“And anyway,” Eddie says, still never quite looking at Buck or even at Tommy. Never quite focusing on them. “That’s how I’m single and back on the market again.” He smiles a wide, bitter, snarky kind of smile, and steals the half-full beer glass in front of Buck and downs it in one gulp. 

(Read on AO3)

[ongreenergrasses]

Late night confessions fluff

somehow this got written almost immediately, I hope you enjoy anon 💜

“You can sleep,” Finnick says gently.

“I’ll stay awake with you,” Annie says around a yawn. The last time she’d checked, it was two in the morning, and they’re in a pile of blankets on the floor of the bedroom. But Finnick’s not sleeping, he’s still too wired, so she won’t either.

“You don’t have to.”

“I missed you. I want to stay up with you.”

“I missed you too,” he says quietly.

“No, you didn’t. I know you don’t think about me while you’re there.”

“That doesn’t stop me from missing you.”

Finnick doesn’t usually talk like this with her. It’s not as simple as him being scared to. It’s smart for him not to tell her how he feels, because if he says it, there’s always the chance they’ll overhear it through the bugs in the house. Snow knows about them, but he still thinks Finnick’s humoring her to keep her calm. That he pities her. The longer they can keep it that way, the better.

It doesn’t stop her from wanting to hear it.

Annie rolls over onto her side and nearly knocks heads with him. “Will you tell me a secret?” she says. It comes out almost as a whisper.

“What kind of secret?”

“Any kind,” she says.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

“Finnick, that’s not a secret.”

“I don’t tell you enough.”

“You don’t need to. Tell me another.”

“I’m afraid of heights.”

Annie stares at him. “Really?”

“I didn’t use to be.”

“What about when you’re there? Aren’t you in…” She casts around in her memory. She doesn’t think any of the Capitol buildings were less than maybe three, four stories, and the wealthier the person, the higher the floor they lived on. She remembers that. “Tall buildings?”

“I don’t look out the window.”

“Huh,” she says. “Tell me another.”

“You first.”

Annie thinks about it. “When I was little,” she says, “I found a duck.”

“A duck?”

“A baby duck. And it was abandoned, I sat with it for a while and the mother didn’t come back. I didn’t know what to do, so I took it home and put it in the sink.”

“Annie.” She can hear him holding back laughter. “How old were you?”

“Six, maybe? Seven? My sister was still alive, and she was so mad, she tried to take a swing at me with one of the pots.”

Finnick starts laughing. Annie bites her lip to keep in the smile. She loves his laugh, she always has. “Did you keep the duck?” he asks.

“For a while. Then we ate it.”

“How is that a secret?”

“My brother never found out.”

“How did your brother never find out?”

“We kept it under the sink, and he’s unobservant. Do not tell him.”

“Well,” he says. “I’m sorry you had to eat your duck.”

“I still have a feather from it.”

Finnick’s laughing so hard he can’t talk. Annie doesn’t really think it’s that funny, but his laughter’s infectious, and she starts to laugh, too.

“Tell me another,” he says, once they’ve both calmed down.

Annie doesn’t have many secrets. The biggest secret she has is how she feels about him.

“It’s selfish,” she says. “But I don’t want you to leave me.”

There’s so many ways he could leave her. He could overdose, again. Something could go wrong while he’s there, people hurt him so badly, and there could be an accident. But mostly, he’s miserable. He’s so miserable, and she’s not enough to keep him alive forever.

It doesn’t hurt her feelings, the knowledge that she’s not enough. She dreads it, she dreads the day he’ll leave her, but she hopes it’ll at least be here, at home. Where he can be comfortable, and feel as safe as he ever does.

“Come here,” he says, and Annie moves a little closer, close enough that their foreheads are touching. “I have one for you.”

Annie hums.

“I want to marry you.”

Annie’s heart stops.

He’d whispered it. There’s no way anyone’s heard, and she’s trying to tell herself that’s why her heart’s pounding in her chest, the fear that they’ve been overheard, that the bug in the bedroom somehow picked it up, but she knows it’s not true. That it’s what he’s said instead.

“I know we can’t. And I don’t - it wouldn’t be fair to you. I don’t want to put you through that.”

“Through what?”

“Being my wife.”

Annie shivers. She presses a little closer to him. “You wouldn’t be putting me through anything.” Their lips are almost brushing as they whisper.

“It can’t happen,” he whispers. “I know that. But that’s what I want, more than anything.”

“More than anything, hmm?”

He nods.

Annie carefully reaches up, up to stroke his hair. He startles but doesn’t move away from her. “I know you’d be so good to me,” she murmurs. “That you’d show me how you feel every day.”

He nods again. Her fingers curl briefly into the hair at the nape of his neck, and he shivers.

“I would be so lucky,” she whispers. “To have you as my husband.” The words fall off her tongue, hang in the air. She realizes that she’s shaking, just a little.

Finnick leans in and kisses her.

He’s never told her he loves her. He probably never will. She doesn’t care. He shows her every day. She feels it every day, how much he loves her. She feels it in everything he does for her. She feels it in his kiss.

She winds her arms around his neck and kisses him back.

[blairwbb]

August

pairing: Paige Bueckers x fem!oc

summary: Paige Bueckers and Knox rivers grew up side by side in Hopkins, their friendship evolving over the years from childhood pals to something deeper, though neither ever dared to label it. They shared everything, from inside jokes to their dreams for the future, but something unspoken always lingered between them, creating an uncharted tension neither knew how to navigate.

A/N: This is loosely based ‘August’ By Taylor swift. I’m new to writing so enjoy!

-

Sitting on the porch in Hopkins, Minnesota, after being away for a while feels like stepping back into a quieter, familiar part of my life. It was different from North Carolina. The warm breeze of spring or the crisp air of fall gently brushes against my skin, making me realize how much I have missed the simple, peaceful moments here. The sound of birds chirping and the occasional hum of a distant lawnmower fills the air, but it's the neighborhood's calm rhythm that stands out.

The houses around me are cozy, with their well-kept yards and a sense of community that feels grounded in time. The trees, taller and fuller than before, offer shade, casting dappled light across the porch. I take in the smell of the earth and greenery, a mix of fresh grass and the faint scent of nearby flowers, a reminder of the seasons that come and go.

I can hear the distant sounds of traffic, but they’re muffled, more like background noise than a distraction. The streets, which once felt familiar, now seem a little quieter, almost like they’ve slowed down with me. The town feels like it has grown in some ways but stayed exactly the same in others, like a snapshot of what you remember, with small, subtle changes that only time can bring.

It's a moment of reflection, a mix of nostalgia and a slight sense of detachment, like reconnecting with an old friend after years apart. It’s comforting, yet a little strange. Strange because she was back also. She as in Paige Bueckers

It feels different now, being back in Hopkins, especially with Paige. I hadn’t seen her since that last summer before you both left for college. It was a summer full of familiar warmth, laughter, and easy moments, but it also ended with something unexpected. The kiss.

It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t something either of us had talked about before, but there it was—a quiet, unexpected spark that both of you had felt lingering in the air. It wasn’t the type of kiss that changes everything, but it was enough to make things feel a little more complicated than they were before. We both left that summer with unspoken words hanging between us, things we didn’t know how to address. Neither of us brought it up, and slowly, the distance between us grew—not just physically, but emotionally, too. College, new lives, new routines—it all just took over.

Now, we’re both back. Her return feels like stepping into a moment frozen in time, but also one where everything feels slightly off, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit. We’re both trying to find your way around the awkwardness, but there’s an undeniable tension that I can’t ignore. She’s the same Paige—kind, easy to talk to, but there’s something different, a sense that maybe both of you are just trying to figure out what this is now, what it all means after that summer.

Our families are as close as ever, and it’s easy to fall back into those old rhythms of family get-togethers and shared moments, but you can’t help but feel the weight of the silence between you two. It’s not a bad silence, not something that holds animosity or regret, but it’s there. Both of you are different now.

When you catch her eyes, it’s clear she feels it too. There’s a soft, almost apologetic smile from her, like she wants to bring things back to the way they were, but doesn’t quite know how. You’re not sure either. But maybe that’s okay. Maybe some things are better left unspoken. Maybe, over time, it’ll all come back to a place where things are easy again—just like they used to be, before everything got complicated.

-

The families are celebrating the fact that everyone’s back in town, and it’s the kind of gathering that feels right—filled with the warmth of familiar faces and the easy chatter of old friends. My sisters, of course, know all about the night with Paige. It’s hard to keep things like that a secret, especially when Im surrounded by people who’ve seen you both grow up. They’ve been giving me knowing glances all evening, exchanging quiet conversations, like they’re just waiting for the two of us to figure it out and talk about what happened.

When the grocery run is suggested, it feels like a natural way to slip away from the attention of the gathering. Paige and I share a brief, almost relieved look before we both agree. It’s the perfect excuse, and a welcome break. As we drive through the familiar streets of Hopkins, everything feels easy again. The tension starts to dissolve the further away you get from the house, and the conversation comes back like it always did—effortless.

We talk about the usual stuff first—how school’s going, how your families have been. But then there’s that moment where things shift, the way conversations often do when you're with someone you’re close to. The air between us grows a little thicker, and it’s clear both of us are dancing around the thing that’s been unsaid for so long.

Paige’s voice breaks through the quiet first, her tone softer than usual, almost like she’s testing the waters. “I miss this,” she says, glancing over at you, her eyes briefly meeting mine. It’s not just about the grocery run or the conversation; it’s about everything—the simplicity of being around each other again, the familiarity that comes with time spent together.

I nod, a small, tight smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I miss It too,” I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them. There’s a vulnerability in the air now, something unspoken but understood. i want to say more, to explain everything that’s been swirling around in my head for months. But the words don’t come.

The car pulls into the grocery store parking lot, and there’s a quiet moment where neither of you moves to get out. You both know the time for the big conversation hasn’t come yet. There’s still a lot of unpacking to do, but in that moment, the silence feels comforting. It’s not awkward—it’s just... right.

“Knox, I know we’ve both been avoiding it,” Paige says, her voice quieter this time, “but I think we need to figure this out. Whatever happened that night...”

I don’t answer right away, but i don’t need to. She knows we’re both on the same page, both waiting for the right moment, the right words. But for now, being here, together again, is enough. You’re not rushing to fix everything. You’re just letting it flow, letting the distance between us shrink a little more with each passing minute.

When you finally get out of the car, it’s easy, almost like nothing changed. We walk side by side into the store, the quiet understanding between us enough to carry us through whatever comes next.

The celebration is in full swing by the time me and Paige get back from the grocery run. Laughter spills out from the house as soon as you step inside, the familiar sounds of your families blending together in a way that feels like home. It’s easy, effortless—just like things between paige and I  have started to feel again.

My sisters are the first to notice the shift. They don’t say anything outright, but the knowing glances they exchange are enough to make you roll your eyes. They’ve been waiting for this, watching from the sidelines like it’s some long-running TV show they’re personally invested in. And honestly, they kind of are.

Dinner stretches into late evening, and the teasing starts slow—little comments from your mom, a raised eyebrow from Paige’s dad when we end up sitting next to each other, the way everyone conveniently seems to leave just enough space for both of us to end up paired together. It’s subtle at first, but then my older sister, MK, never one for patience, finally says what everyone’s been thinking.

“So, have you two figured it out yet, or are we gonna have to lock you in a room until you do?”

 I nearly choke on your drink, and Paige just laughs, shaking her head like she’s completely unbothered. “Figured what out?” she asks, playing along, though the slight flush on her face gives her away.

“Oh, come on,” another sibling chimes in. “You guys always do this. Dance around each other, act like it’s nothing, and then—boom—you finally admit what we’ve all known for years.”

There’s laughter, a few exaggerated sighs from family members who have clearly been waiting for this moment longer than I even realized. I glance at Paige, and she’s already looking at me, amusement flickering in her eyes, but there’s something else too. A quiet understanding. A silent, yeah, they’re not wrong.

You shake your head, fighting back a smile. 

“Y’all are delusional.”

“Uh-huh,” My sister snorts. “Just wait. You two will figure it out.”

The conversation moves on, but the energy lingers. And the thing is… they’re right. You and Paige willfigure it out. Maybe not tonight, maybe not even tomorrow. But being here, with her, with your families, laughing and teasing like nothing ever changed—it feels like the start of something.

Or maybe, the continuation of something that never really ended.

The days pass, and little by little, things start falling back into place with Paige. The awkwardness from before fades, replaced by something easier, something familiar. We slip back into late-night drives, shooting around at the old park, sitting on the porch and talking about nothing and everything. It’s not like we’re pretending nothing happened that night before we left for college—it’s just that neither of us have pushed to bring it up. Not yet.

But then, one night, we finally do.

It’s late, way later than either of us should still be awake, but that’s always been our thing. We’re sitting on the hood of my car, parked at the edge of a quiet road just outside of town, where the stars feel a little closer. The air is warm but crisp, and there’s nothing but the sound of crickets and the occasional car passing in the distance.

Paige leans back on her hands, looking up at the sky, her face half-lit by the soft glow of the streetlight behind us. “I knew we were gonna end up here,” she says, her voice light but a little too careful, like she’s testing the waters.

I glance at her. “Here as in…?”

“As in finally talking about it.” She tilts her head toward me, and I see the flicker of something in her expression—hesitation, maybe. Or something deeper.

I exhale, running a hand through my hair. 

“Yeah.” A beat of silence stretches between us, and then I finally say it. “That night. We never talked about it.”

Paige nods slowly, and for the first time in a while, she looks a little unsure of herself. That’s rare for her. “I didn’t know if you wanted to.”

I let out a dry chuckle. “I didn’t know if you wanted to.”

She shifts so she’s facing me more. “I mean… it wasn’t nothing, right?”

There it is. The thing we’ve been dancing around. The thing that’s been sitting between us since that last summer.

I shake my head. “No. It wasn’t nothing.”

She holds my gaze for a second, then looks down, fidgeting with the sleeve of her hoodie. “I think I was scared,” she admits, her voice softer now. “We were both leaving, everything was changing, and I didn’t want to lose you. So I thought maybe if I didn’t say anything… it wouldn’t make things harder.”

I swallow, processing her words. “Yeah,” I say, my voice quieter now too. “I get that. I guess I did the same thing. I just—I didn’t want to mess anything up with you. And then time just… got away from us.”

Paige exhales, like she’s been holding that in for longer than she realized. “I missed you, Knox.” She says it so simply, but it hits deeper than anything else tonight.

I don’t hesitate. “I missed you too.”

We sit there for a while, just letting the words settle between us. And for the first time in a long time, it feels like we’re on the same page again. Maybe we still have things to figure out, maybe we’re not quite there yet. But tonight, under the stars, sitting side by side like we always have is enough for now.

-

The thing about Paige and me is that we’re almost. Almost back to where we were before we left. Almost talking about that night completely. Almost admitting what we both know is there. But we never quite cross the line.

 It’s frustrating, the way we hover in this space between something and nothing. We talk about it, about us, but always in circles, never fully saying what needs to be said. Some nights, it feels like we’re on the edge of something real, like one of us will finally just say it, just let it all fall out into the open. But then the moment passes, and we go back to pretending we don’t know exactly what’s happening between us.

Tonight is one of those nights.

We’re at her house, curled up on the couch after a long day, the TV playing some movie neither of us are really watching. Our families had another get-together, and at this point, I’m convinced they all see what we refuse to say. The teasing glances, the way they always find a way to leave us alone in a room together—it’s like they’re just waiting for us to figure it out.

Paige shifts next to me, pulling her knees up and resting her chin on them. “Knox,” she says quietly, and there’s something in her voice that makes my chest tighten.

“Yeah?”

She hesitates, like she’s choosing her words carefully. “Do you ever think about how different things would’ve been if we had just… talked that night?”

I sigh, leaning my head back against the couch. “Yeah. More than I probably should.”

She doesn’t say anything at first, but I feel her looking at me. When I turn my head, her expression is unreadable, like she’s caught somewhere between frustration and something softer. “So why are we still doing this?” she finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I don’t know how to answer that. Because the truth is, I don’t want to be doing this. I don’t want to keep pretending we’re not caught in this push and pull, this thing that never really went away. But at the same time, there’s this fear sitting heavy in my chest—the fear that if we actually let this happen, if we try and it doesn’t work, I’ll lose her completely.

And I think she feels the same way.

I swallow hard. “I don’t know.”

Paige exhales, looking away like she’s trying to hide whatever she’s feeling. But I see it. I always see it. “I hate this,” she mutters. “I hate acting like it wasn’t real.”

“Me too.” The words slip out before I can stop them, raw and honest. “But I don’t know how to fix it.”

She looks at me again, and for a second, I think she’s going to say something—something that changes everything. But then she just nods, like she understands, like she’s just as stuck as I am.

We don’t talk for a while after that. The movie plays on, and we sit there in the same silence we’ve been living in since that night. So close, but still not quite there.

Almost.

-

It happens late one night, when the world is quiet and there’s nothing left between us but the truth.

Knox and I have spent the whole summer dancing around it, but the steps are getting messy, the space between us shrinking with every touch that lingers too long, every glance that holds too much. It’s been weeks of almost, of my heart kicking up every time she says my name, of her looking at me like I’m something worth waiting for. I think I’ve always known how I feel. I think I’ve just been waiting for them to catch up.

We’re sitting on my porch, just the two of us, the air thick with summer heat. The cicadas hum in the distance, the soft glow of the porch light making Knox’s features softer, gentler. She looks at me like she wants to say something, like maybe this time she actually will.

“Paige,” my name barely more than a breath. “I don’t want to dance around this anymore.”

I swallow, heart hammering. “Then don’t.”

Knox shifts, leaning forward, her elbows on their knees, hands clasped together like they’re steadying themselves. “I love you,” she says, and just like that, everything else fades.

I feel it in my bones, the way those words settle deep inside me, like they were always meant to be there. “You do?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

She laughs laugh, shaking their head. “Yeah, Paige. I do. I think I always have.”

My throat tightens. “Then why did it take us this long?”

Knox looks at me, really looks at me, and I think I already know the answer. We were scared. We didn’t want to lose each other. We let time and distance and fear get in the way. But not anymore.

“I love you too,” I say, and suddenly, I feel light. Like this was the weight I’d been carrying all summer, all year, and now it’s gone.

Knox lets out a breath, like she’s been waiting just as long to hear it, and then she’s pulling me in, arms wrapping around me in a way that feels like home. I close my eyes, breathe her in, and for the first time in a long time, everything feels exactly how it’s supposed to.

The rest of the summer belongs to us.

Ice cream runs where we steal bites from each other’s cones. Flowers—daisies, lilacs, anything Knox can find, tucked behind my ear, left on my car, sitting on my porch with my name scribbled on a note. Bonfires with our families,her fingers laced through mine under the glow of the flames. Quiet mornings where we don’t need to talk, where just being is enough.

But time doesn’t stop, even when I want it to. The days slip by, and suddenly, the summer isn’t endless anymore.

I sit on Knox’s bed the night before we both leave, staring at my packed bags, my stomach twisting. “It’s gonna be hard,” I admit, because I don’t believe in lying to them—not about this.

Knox is lying next to me, her hand reaching for mine. “Yeah. But we can handle it.”

I look at her searching for any hesitation, but there’s none. Just certainty. Just us.

UConn and UNC. A thousand miles between us. But I think about every moment that led us here, every almost we finally turned into something real, and I know—we’re ready.

“I’ll call you every night,” Knox says, squeezing my fingers.

I smile. “You better.”

Knox grins. “And we’ll visit. And send each other stupid gifts. And make it work, because that’s what we do.”

I exhale, letting myself believe it. Letting myself trust in this, in us. “Yeah,” I whisper, leaning my forehead against hers. “We’ll make it work.”

Because we always do.

Long distance isn’t easy, but we make it work.

There are late-night calls, stolen moments between classes, texts that never feel like enough but have to be. I’m is busy with basketball, and knox drowning in schoolwork, but we find time. We always find time.

And when we can, we come home. Hopkins is still ours—the place where it all started, where we don’t have to worry about schedules and miles between us. On breaks, we fall right back into step, like no time has passed at all. And every time I have to leave, every time I watch Know board a plane back to South Carolina while I head North to Connecticut , it gets a little harder. But we promised each other we’d do this, and I’ve never been one to break a promise to. We make it work.

But tonight, I want her here.

It’s a big game. The kind where the crowd is packed, the cameras are everywhere, and the pressure is heavier than usual. I try to shake it off, keep my mind where it needs to be, but something’s missing.

Me: Wish you were here. Knox: I know, baby. I wish I was too. Me: It’s okay, I get it. You’re busy. Knox: I’ll be watching, though. You know that. Me: I know.

And I do. I know she’ll be watching, probably yelling at her laptop screen like she’s courtside. But it’s not the same.

Still, I push it aside and get my head in the game. Warmups, focus, deep breaths. But when we step onto the court, I do what I always do.

I scan the crowd.

It’s stupid, really. I know she’s not here. I know she can’t be. But still, I look.

And then—

I see her.

For a second, I think I’m imagining it. But no—she’s right there, standing near the front, hoodie slightly pulled up but not enough to hide that honey brown hair, those big brown eyes locked onto me.

I freeze, my stomach flipping, my breath catching.

She’s here.

I feel my chest tighten, something overwhelming rushing through me. I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or run straight into the stands. All I can do is stare at her like an idiot while everything else—the noise, the crowd, the game—fades into the background.

Knox grins, standing up and cupping her hands around her mouth.

“Go get ‘em, Bueckers!”

I shake my head, biting back the biggest smile, because of course she showed up.

Because that’s who Knox is.

I turn back to the court, heart racing, body buzzing with something steady, something right.

And just like that, I know I’m about to put on a show.

Because she’s here.

Because she showed up.

Because she always will.

-

I almost don’t believe it at first.

When Knox first told me she was thinking about changing her major, I could tell she was nervous. Not because she wasn’t sure—Knox doesn’t do unsure—but because she knew what it meant. A new start. A big shift. And maybe, just maybe, a chance for us to finally close the distance between us.

I remember the night she told me.

I was lying in bed after practice, barely keeping my eyes open, when my phone buzzed.

Knox: Can I call you? Me: You never have to ask that.

When I answered, she didn’t waste any time. “So… what if I transferred to UConn?”

I sat up so fast I nearly knocked my phone off the bed. “Wait. Are you serious?”

She laughed, but I could hear the nerves underneath it. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. My new major makes more sense at UConn, and—” she hesitated, just for a second, then added, “And it’d mean being with you.”

That was all it took.

Now, months later, she’s here.

No more goodbyes at the airport. No more time zones or FaceTime calls cutting out when I need to see her most.

Now, I wake up knowing she’s close. Now, I get to come home from practice and find her already waiting for me, curled up on my couch with her textbooks in her lap. Now, I get to pull her into my arms whenever I want, no longer having to count the days until I can.

And life? Life is good.

It’s walking across campus together, hands brushing, no rush to say goodbye. It’s her waiting for me outside the gym after a long practice, pretending like she just happened to be there when we both know she was checking the time every five minutes. It’s late-night study sessions that turn into tangled limbs and whispered conversations under the blankets.

It’s us, without the distance, without the longing. Just us.

I watch her now, sitting across from me at our favorite coffee shop, her nose scrunched as she tries to understand whatever notes are in front of her. She mumbles something under her breath, chewing on the end of her pen like she always does when she’s thinking too hard.

I smile. “You good over there?”

She glances up, eyes warm, mouth curving into a grin. “Better than good.”

And I know exactly what she means.

Because everything is falling into place.

Because she’s here.

Because we made it.

[mangora]

Something I think about a lot is the people who went to school or lived in the same neighborhood as the ROTI cast seeing them on TV. Everyone in Cameron’s neighborhood knew that a kid lived in that house but they never knew or even really saw him; and now they get to know him for the first time, and they feel this weird mix of pride for him, as well as melancholy or even anger at the fact that he was kept inside his whole life. Lightning was a star in his community and everyone thought he had an idyllic life, until they saw the finale and found out how much pressure he’d been under all those years, and they can’t see him the same way when he comes back. Zoey was an outcast at her high school and was ignored or even picked on by most of her peers, and they only realized how much of an impact that had on her when they watched her struggle to make connections over and over again until she lost her first real friend and snapped. No one liked Scott, everyone thought he was an asshole and knew he only got by via cheating and lying— but seeing him near catatonic after that shark attack, they can’t help but feel horrified on a deep personal level, and remember some of the good or just pitiful things Scott did, and wonder if he really deserved something that terrible. Jo was bullied but never seemed intimidated or effected by it; when everyone sees her struggle with her body image, or worry about the things she hasn’t done yet, or slip up and smile or help someone out, it both makes them realize that she’s weaker than they thought and also that they’re wrong for being happy about that. Similarly, Mike was widely treated as a freak and a delinquent, and had barely if any friends; seeing him open up about his DID on TV and learning where DID comes from created this sense of crushing guilt and horror for everyone who’d ever picked on him or written him off or spread rumors behind his back. Anne Maria was beloved by people at her school and in her neighborhood, and seeing how people like Zoey treated her and watching her lose was devastating. Brick was always known to have a heart of gold, and while seeing that on TV was inspiring for some of his friends and peers at boot camp, it made him a new target for other kids and commanders, who saw him as soft and effete and not worth wasting time on. Sam never had many friends due to his nerdy interests and social awkwardness, and after seeing how kind he was on the show, everyone wishes they’d given him a chance. Seeing Dawn properly mad at Scott during her elimination is super uncanny to everyone who knew her as the calm and collected local cryptid, and it reminds them that she’s human (or at least humanoid) and makes them take her more seriously. B’s community was rooting for them, since everyone knew how smart and thoughtful they were; seeing him get deadnamed by Chris and then get taken down by Scott made them genuinely mad on their behalf. Watching Dakota’s last moments as a normal human girl was horrifying for everyone who knew her, especially because after the episode aired there was nothing they could do about it. Staci went on the show as the annoying girl who lied for attention, and she left the same way; no glory, no gold, just humiliation.

And this isn’t even mentioning what their families felt watching the show, whether that be fear or pride or disappointment or anger— either at Chris and the show or even at their own child, in some cases. Like, could you imagine coming back home to your family, your friends, your neighbors, your teachers, your coworkers, after they’d seen you at your worst or most vulnerable on international television— after everyone who’d ever scrutinized or believed in you watched you lose big time. The horror and/or tragedy of ROTI doesn’t end or even really start with the radioactive island; the things that led them there and the things they returned to could be dismal or scary in their own ways.

Anyways I’m so normal about them rghhhhhh