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angsthology · 3 months

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“YOU CAN’T DISAPPOINT A PICTURE” — or an alt title: roo vs. jenson to roo and jenson

from the freezing act and disappearing act to no choice not to act (do i know what i meant? absolutely not.)

a/n yarg hey this is set on 2022 and the rest of 2023, after the events of the great (coming not so soon but im workin on it)

THE KANGAROO VS. THE WORLD

2022

it was her first points. her first points... ever in formula one. she was on… a different kind of high. nothing was going to ruin that moment for her. nothing except one.

as of right now, she was not noticing anything else besides the man in front of her—and even that was debatable.

this time, it was her turn to be catatonic.

daniel, who was one of the blokes lucky enough to witness what was currently happening in front of him could not help but laugh, well, he was putting his entire life into not laughing. but, well, it was hard not to.

he’s—no one, has ever seen her like this before.

she was usually so… either kept to herself or an absolute menace. there was really no in-between. but one for sure thing she always is was functional, even is the function is cracked up to a hundred or zero. so to see her malfunctioning was way funny for daniel.

daniel, still giving his entire life not to laugh, answers the question for her, “of course, she will! right, kid?”

at that, her blubbering stopped and her attention was fixed on the australian—that had betrayed her.

her mind was still reeling in—half present and half out of it, “i—yea—huh?” she looked towards daniel for… anything.

he didn’t respond with anything else and pulled on her race suit that was now unzipped and collecting around her waist down, her top half showing off the crimson-red fireproofs she wore underneath.

her mind was going faster than an rb19 and the next thing she knew she was sitting in the middle of a very fine world champion she was so ready to risk everything for and… and daniel ricciardo.

she was so in her own world, she failed to notice the former calling out her name.

oh my god, he knows my name, she thought.

she cleared her throat, posture changing feigning ‘professionalism’, “what was that?”

“congratulations on scoring your first points today!”

she blinked. she knew what he said. she was just… processing.

truly, she didn’t know how or why it happened or even what had happened at all but she somehow ended up in a finger guns position pointing at her long-time celebrity crush.

she stayed at the end position for quite a while. besides the sound of the track and every other surroundings, it was quiet. jenson was too stunned to speak; roo was berating herself in her head absolutely throwing every curse word in her head—if anyone were to read her mind right now, they would start crying from all the screams and cries of her own stupidity. daniel—now, daniel on the other hand; was having the time of his life. the dam had broken and he was now clutching his stomach besides the girl laughing his ass off.

his—very loud, very distracting—laugh paused her inner turmoil at herself and directed all towards him. her eyes were void of any emotions and her entire look was unpredictable. she narrowed her eyes at the australian before quickly fisting her hand out to hit the man right where he was clutching it, making him grunt in shock and eventually drop to the ground groaning—his laugh somehow still straining behind.

still in pain, from both his laughter and the hit, daniel managed between discomfort, “oh—you’re good, man, you’re good.”

her eyes were still trained down to the rolling australian, giving him her deadliest-calmest glare later on slowly look up to meet jenson’s; completely freezing in her spot once more with eyes wider than max’s winning gap as if his stare was one of medusa’s.

later on, she found herself in the haas—they stopped trying to get rid of her eventually—hospitality with mick sitting on one of the chairs and herself pacing around the room talking his ear off.

“i hate daniel! i hate him! i told him a million times! i never wanted to meet jenson in person! i just wanted a picture! i hate him so much!” she whined, stomping around the room dramatically.

eventually she sat herself down next to mick. not knowing how else to respond, he extended his hand and giving her a few pats on the shoulder.

“you know, he’s probably was very happy to see you too.” he tries.

“don’t.”

he raised both his hands in surrender.

it was an interesting sight to see: britney spears walking and talking with snoopy in the paddocks.

“i just think he’s neat, you know.” she explained with a shrug.

the older man chuckled with a shake of his head, “you do know you’re talking about a cartoon dog, right?”

she gasped, “rude. he is the cartoon dog.” with a hand over her heart, she then continues, “he’s more than that! he’s a pilot, an icon, and most importantly; a best friend.” she paused, remembering a detail she forgot to mention, “—to woodstock. i don’t care about charlie brown, that kid’s an idiot.”

nico made a contemplating face, “you’re so mean to him why—”

she was about to reply until she was cut off by a british accent that made her entire blood run cold and paralyze her nerves, eyes widening slightly—position permanently cemented to the ground where her body jerked to a stop.

“oh, hey, jense!” he greeted back, turning his attention and entire body away to face the blonde getting closer.

to her dismay, he waved the world champion over.

(what is that—what the hell?! I’M SWEATING BULLETS LIKE A FUCKING WATERFALL.)

he was getting closer.

(FUCK!—what do i do?)

closer.

“yeah, i was just here talking to—” nico said as jenson was in easier earshot, his hands already motioning to his side. just as he turned around the moment the brit arrived by his side, he was met with dust. besides that, no other evidence showed there was once a girl in an alfa romeo racing suit next to him. “wha—kid?” he looked around, “where’d she go?”

jenson frowned slightly, “ah. sorry about that, mate. most likely my fault.”

nico turned to him confused, “what?”

he shrugged sadly, “i don’t know. that kid is like allergic to me i think—never got any chance to properly talk to her.”

again nico put his thinking face on and after a good few conversations with himself in his head, his face cracked up with a smile.

he slapped jenson’s back and rest his hand there—shocking him in the process—“believe me, she doesn’t.”

end of 2023

she. was. done.

finally.

this year was definitely not her year and she was glad it was over.

during their final debrief mick was her pillar; she was on her last set of batteries and was about to shut down, the entire time she had her head resting on his shoulder half-asleep. he didn’t complain, thankfully—surprisingly none of her team either.

after they declared dismissed, she was so ready to be hauled—by who, she didn’t really know. but man she wished—back to her bed—did not matter which one but whichever the closest was—and pass out until the next season starts.

unfortunately, it was not that easy yet for her.

the only people left in the room was her, porsche’s team principal, his assistant, her head engineer, and... mikey.

now that she really thinks about it, she doesn’t really know what it is mikey does.

“you look rough.” the man started. “not wearing any makeup today?” he asked genuinely. he knew how much makeup therapy usually improves her mood, which is why it made sense to him seeing her so—gone.

“i am wearing makeup.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

he motioned for her to take a seat, and so she did.

the air was… unreadable. usually it’s pretty light with them, they loved her and she loves them. maybe it was the lack of mick in the room?

she was so tired, she didn’t care for the thick silence in the room, opting to just break it herself.

“am i getting sacked? are you going to make me burn my own contract?”

she was getting dangerous. tired roo means her defense systems are losing charge—if she was a drinker, this would be a glimpse of her in an honest drunk state.

no one really stopped her so her mouth just kept moving, “i mean, i wouldn’t be surprised after the year i had i was kinda shit—i’d be pretty sad, though. i love you guys. i love you,” she looked at her engineer, “i love you,” she looked to her personal trainer, “i love you,” to her team principal. and last but not least, “and i love you.” she looked slightly up at her team principal’s assistant that stood behind him.

“oh good grief, when the hell is he getting here?” the man in the middle whispered under his breath as he rubbed his forehead, in the background the driver still mindlessly listing all the people she loves.

“and i love that guy who always has chocolate for me—oh wait that’s mick again.”

“just got a text from jackie says they’re close.” whispered back mikey.

as if on cue, right after mikey locked his phone, the door opens—thankfully—stopping roo’s listing, catching all of their attentions.

she was still yapping when she turned to the door but came to an abrupt stop when she sees the person who walks in.

the man waved.

“oh no, it’s jenson button.” she says flatly—at this point it was like she was drugged with truth serum; her words held no emotions or feelings whatsoever, but everyone was sure it was all genuine.

she was about to turn back to her team when with no warnings, no wind, no signs, she was hit with a tsunami—not even joking. the moment her head turned her face was splashed with a bucket of cold water.

so. so. cold.

oh that definitely woke her up.

“WHAT THE FU—”

as if she hadn’t had enough thrown at her, a towel was draped over her head before she can finishing cursing out her team. (one, to dry her up and two, to shut her up.)

emerging from under her towel, she looked towards the three culprits’, eyes going from jenson button at the front of the room and back to them, “in front of jenson button?!” she scolded in a whisper.

“it humanizes you,” explained her team principal shortly.

she quieted. sucked in a breath and stare at him flatly, “die.”

mateo—her team principal—was unfazed by it, opting to ignore her comment instead and continue with the business they had originally set up for.

“now that you’re awake,” he started.

“whatever.” she rolled her eyes.

ignoring her, mateo continues, “i’m going to put this in simple words you’ll understand.”

“why do you hate me?”

“i know you don’t like to talk about… whatever the hell this year was, but one thing for sure, we—” he motioned towards himself, mikey, and olivia (her head engineer), “—decided it’d be good for you to have a manager.”

she stayed silent, blinking her thoughts in until she found her words;

“and he is… your best candidate?” she asked stiffly motioning to the british driver that she’s sure can kill her with a stare.

mateo looked anywhere but anyone, slightly dodging the question. he shrugged, “well.”

“seriously?!” commented the world champion. he rolled his eyes and made way to sit on the chair next to hers, slightly making the hair on her arms rise. “look, kid, i know it’s probably going to be hard for you to even be in the same room with me—but i promise, i would not be doing this if i weren’t sure of you. you are one of the best talents i’ve seen in my life and i think i could help you reach a lot more good things.”

she took in his words and she’d be lying if hearing all those things coming out of his mouth didn’t give her a type of sensation—butterflies in her stomach, warmness in her heart, and the burning tears building behind her eyes—and a surge of courageous in her veins.

she smiled, “no, i think you’re right. and, i mean, i’m in the same room as you right now and i’m all fine.”

after that, papers were signed and deals were made, and to her; the rest was history.

(including all her previously embarrassing moments.)

princess (mick) HSAZGFKJSDGS YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE i js died oh my god what did i do

te1enoviyuh 🎵 Simple Minds • Don't You (Forget About Me)

liked by f1porsche, atticusingh, and 4,476,928 others

tagged: jensonbutton

te1enoviyuh mischief not managed zzz

see all 487 comments.

roomcgrittle CONSTABLE REGGIE

buttoncunt JENSON????? kid r u even alive still

dunphyrrari did u fall asleep typing the caption

te1enoviyuh dunphyrrari okay thats funny u deserve a notice

dunphyrrari te1enoviyuh I WON

f1porsche Watch out (the rest of) 2024 they’re coming for you. 😉

selvnika i thought *i* was your manager...

te1enoviyuh selvnika if anything IM your manager. your around the clock arounf the world babysitter

sargeantist selvnika now hold on... back tf UP. WDYM MANAGER??

schupastry sargeantist JUST STAY CALM DO NOT MAKW ANY ASSUMPTIONS.

disneyprincemuke im just here for the ride tbh

bonus

mateo sighs at his phone, his employee no better than before she had management.

“do you ever regret this? ‘cause i do. —kinda.” commented the unlucky woman known as her pr manager (jackie.)

“who thought this was a good idea, again?”

being the self-aware king himself; mikey immediately choked on his water and quickly made his escape.

anyone noticed a cameo? not proofread | taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoision @vellicora @bborra @woozarts crossed out means i cant tag u

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one x reader #formula one #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x female reader #f1 smau #formula 1 smau #formula one smau #formula 1 x oc #tine’s roo vs the world #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x you #jenson button x reader

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dayoldtea · 1 year

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Joe passionately rambling on about Y/N for six mins and thirty-four seconds video

Pairing: Joe Keery x Actress!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Category: Fluff. That's all.

Warning: None

Summary: Steve Harrington and Penelope Carter did not stay together at the end of the fourth season of Stranger Things, and the internet has a lot to say about that. In contrast, to warm the hearts of Stenny's fans, one fan shares a six mins and thirty-four second compilation of Joe Keery passionately rambling on about you, his girlfriend, and coincidentally Penny Carter herself.

"Joe literally pinched himself upon seeing Y/N on set for the first time." Matt Duffer told during an interview with Variety in June 2022. "You remember that, right?"

Ross Duffer, sitting next to his brother, laughed as he shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. "There's no forgetting it." He joked. "They sat next to each other in the script room, and you could just see how nervous he was. It was a really fun thing to watch."

Matt nodded, humming as he did so.

"Yeah, I think that's why we can say that we were kind of prepared for the negative fan reaction regarding Steve and Penny's tragic ending in season four, you know?" He added. "We knew from the beginning that it would be hard to convince the audience that Steve and Nancy should be something when we had Joe Keery in love with Y/NY/L/N since the first time he saw her."

To say that the internet was in mourning would be an understatement.

The fourth season of Stranger Things had premiered some time ago, and for fans of the TV show, that was synonymous with hope. This time, Steve Harrington and Penelope Carter will finally be together.

The development from friends to lovers between the characters was something that fans had longed for since the first season, which unfortunately did not happen. Penelope received a tragic ending in Upside Down, and the scene in which her bloodied body was embraced by a miserably distraught Steve had generated thousands of disgruntled tweets and videos on TikTok — most of them featuring puffy-eyed girls, tears streaming down their cheeks as the scene in question played in the background.

Steve and Penelope hadn't gotten the ending they deserved, but you and Joe were the protagonists of another story, this one being in real life, and knowing that you two had been together for more than four years mended a little the crack left in the hearts of Stenny fans.

One video in particular, accumulating a little over 1,5 million views on YouTube, had been shared by a Twitter account along with the hashtag JusticeForStenny, on the rise since the last episode of the fourth season was aired:

@stennylover: steve and penelope didn't get a chance to be together and I know everyone here is heartbroken about it, but here is a compilation of joe passionately rambling on about yn for six mins and thirty-four seconds to warm your hearts

The video in question begins by showing the title text in white capital letters on a black background, the instrumental of Paper Rings by Taylor Swift playing in the background:

Joe Keery passionately rambling on about Y/NY/L/N for six mins and thirty-four seconds straight.

cut

The first recording shows Joe standing in front of a white background during the Glamour's friendship test, arms behind his back and eyes fixed on the floor. He was wearing a plain black shirt, the length of his hair a little shorter than that sported by Steve Harrington indicating that he was preparing for another role.

"I— I was just mesmerized the first time I saw her, honestly." He shakes his head slowly, his lips curving into a comforting smile. "She was visibly excited to be on set. It was like it was her first time in an environment like that, and it was really adorable to see her so excited about every little thing that happened." He said before looking at the camera, the smile not abandoning his lips. "When we had scenes together— which happened a lot, I used get so fucking nervous." Joe laughed, his cussing censored by a beep. "I was constantly getting my lines wrong because of that, and she's always been so thoughtful and patient about it, you know? Which only made my situation worse, actually." He joked, scratching the back of his neck as his eyes meet the floor once again. "She would always ask me if I needed a break, because, you know, she genuinely thought that these mistakes were because of fatigue or something, when internally I was like, 'Oh, I'm fine, I'm sorry about that, I'm just, you know, thinking of a way to ask you out on a date.'"

The video then cuts to the Wired autocomplete interview granted by Joe and Gaten Matarazzo.

Gaten is holding the styrofoam board while the phrases with "is joe keery" remain hidden under white stickers.

"Okay, so let's see what we have here." Joe hums as he pulls out the first sticker. "Is Joe Keey," he begins, "Y/N/Y/L/N's boyfriend in real life?"

"I love the fact that your first question has to do with Y/N." Gaten joked.

"Yeah, I was about to say that, man." Joe played along, leaning forward with one hand on his knee. "But yes, I am Y/N's boyfriend in real life."

"Title he's most proud of." Gaten punctuated, raising his index finger.

Joe clicked his tongue, a smug smile adorning the corner of his lips. "I mean, my girlfriend is Y/N/Y/L/N." He makes a point of stressing your name as if no one knows. "You don't meet many guys this lucky."

Gaten contracted his face in a fake expression of disgust, shaking his head before looking directly at the camera.

"We are still on a mission to find out how much he is paying Y/N."

The next cut is from an interview of Joe to GQ Spain where he was responding to some comments from fans on the internet.

"Youtube." Joe announced before the edit added a lofi song along with a video of Stranger Things fan comments on a scene of Steve and Penelope in the second season, then focusing on one specific user. "I honestly don't know how Steve doesn't realize that Penelope has a crush on him. Is he an idiot?" He reads as the comment remains on the screen.

The video then turns back to Joe.

"I mean, yeah?" He laughs, the video returning to the commentary session as Joe's lines were added as a response along with a typing sound. "I see a lot of Y/N—my girlfriend, in Penelope, you know? Not just because she plays her, obviously, but also because they're both so smart and have such a gentle soul that it's almost like they're magnetic, so when someone asks me what the similarities are between me and Steve, I make it clear that I'm a little smarter when it comes to girls, because I would never let someone like Y/N or Penelope get away. Thank you."

The video then cuts to an interview of Joe on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Kimmel.

"Can we— Can we talk about Y/N/Y/L/N?" Jimmy asked as he leaned over his desk. The audience whistled and clapped loudly as soon as your name was mentioned, making Joe smile. "I mean, we all love her here, and we know you've been together for years— over three years, right?"

"Yeah, that's right." Joe squeaked, shaking his head. "We kind of got tired of just being on screen, you know?" He made a joke, laughing at the thunderous reaction from the audience.

"Man, this is so cool!" Jimmy exclaimed genuinely, causing Joe to nod his head and mutter an almost inaudible "thank you." "And how was the preparation for you two for this fourth season? If I'm correct, the recordings were interrupted due to the pandemic, right?"

"Oh, yes, unfortunately we had that setback and that's why there was a significant delay compared to the other seasons." Joe explained.

"And you two were together during that time?" Jimmy inquired curiously, arching his eyebrows. "Practicing the script together and all that stuff?"

Joe crossed his legs, interlacing his fingers over his lap.

"Well, we did a lot of fun stuff during those months, and of course discussing the script ended up being one of them, but we also kind of took that time to disconnect a little bit, you know?" Joe replied, "We cook together, we write songs together, we learn about gardening on YouTube…" He enumerated with his fingers, "just a bunch of cool stuff."

"Oh, that sounds amazing." Jimmy said in an impressed tone. "Just a couple discovering new hobbies, right?"

"Yeah, but Y/N, she's just— she's just a lot smarter and more talented than me, you know?" Joe said amidst a laugh. "She can act, she can write, she can sing, she can knit, she can read a book about what are the right garden pots for each kind of seed and suddenly become a big Wikipedia on the subject…" he rambled, gesticulating excitedly, "It's amazing. She is amazing. I'm one hundred percent sure she could build a rocket from scratch if she wanted to."

"Wow." Jimmy smiled, exchanging a quick glance with the audience before facing Joe again. "So I guess we can say you're a little bit in love, right?"

Joe blushes, his eyes dropping to the floor before turning to Jimmy. "Yeah, I kind of am."

#joe keery x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harringto x fem!reader #joe keery x you #steve harrington fluff #famous reader

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imaginespazzi · 2 months

Text

Part 1: Don't Be A Stranger

Masterlist - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

But if (my) world was ending, you'd come over right?

(In which UCLA anon's roman empire became this writer's roman empire and we've finally reached the beginning)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 8.4 K (other parts will be shorter....maybe)

TW: Swearing, Alcohol, Injuries, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 Gonna keep this as short and sweet as possible but we've finally, finally gotten to the UCLA fic. A huge shout out to UCLA anon, because this is their master idea. Couple of things, I've never been to LA or UCLA and therefore some things are out of whack. The timeline is also a little out of whack but I swear I will try to keep it as consistent as possible. In the mean time, just ignore some of the inconsistencies pretty please. As always, feel free to let me know what's bad, what's good and what else you'd like to see. I hope y'all enjoy this first part and let's get another W today!

August 2021

where are you

i literally have to be at the airport in an hour paige where are you

dude

are you on your way?

you better be driving and that’s why you’re not answering

PAIGE

i’m sorry about last night i shouldn’t have said that

but you said a lot of shit too so call it even?

this isn’t funny where are you?

i have to leave in 15 mins

are you actually not coming?

wtf????

this is actually bullshit

get over yourself bueckers

wow

fuck you

just landed

thought you might like to know

sorry my plane didn’t crash i guess

September 2021

dude enough okay

can you just call me back??

i just wanna talk

i know you're mad i get it but i miss you

November 2021

hi i’mma be in dc over christmas

nvm

idk why i’m trying again

maybe i should block you

this is kinda pathetic of me what the fuck

December 2021

i thought i saw you today but idk

couldn’t have been you cause if it was

would you really not even say hi?

i’m done trying paige

merry christmas i guess

March 2022

i misz you

lyke a wot

love uuuuu pppppp

even if ur a bwtich

pkese pick up

ignore that

people drunk text exes apparently i drunk text you

wait

i don’t need to tell you that

you already ignore it all anyways

August 2022

i heard about the acl

i’m sorry

idk if it means anything, but if you wanna talk

nvm

***

September 2022

When the doorbell rings, on a quiet Thursday afternoon during a rare moment of alone time, Paige expects it to be a lot of people. One of her parents deciding that they actually weren’t going to leave her alone. Someone else in her family showing up out of the blue to provide comfort. Maybe one of her teammates popping up to keep her entertained. She even thinks it might be some random fan who got too invested and figured out the address for her air BnB. It’s the saddest testament to how broken they are, that the idea of it being Azzi Fudd standing outside her door, never once crosses her mind. But there she is, when Paige opens the door, dressed in ripped jean shorts and a light blue tank top, the girl that had been her best friend, and maybe a little bit more.

Silence stretches between them as Azzi fidgets with her hands and Paige continues to stoically stare at her. It’s been almost a year since they’ve seen each other, even longer since they’d last shared a happy smile. And you’d have to go back to before she’d told her about her future plans, to find the last time Azzi had properly looked Paige in the eyes.

“Hi,” Azzi says finally, mustering up a small smile. Paige doesn’t know if hearing that voice, soft and subdued but still so familiar, fixes a crack or breaks her heart even further. She wills herself to be polite in response, to match Azzi’s polite greeting with a greeting of her own. But there’s clear discord between her mouth and her head, because her words are harsh and hollowed.

“What are you doing here?”

Azzi swallows, smile disappearing as she immediately digs her fingernails into her palms and Paige feels the guilt settle into her stomach. It’s like the night before all over again. If she closes her eyes, Paige can still hear her voice loudly echoing in Azzi’s childhood bedroom. She can hear the angry words that she’d hurled at her best friend, each one like a well-aimed arrow piercing the other’s girl's heart and tearing into Paige’s own soul. Some would call what she’d done self-preservation. She’d call it her biggest mistake.

“I um-,” Azzi sucks in her bottom lip, “I was in the area and thought, maybe I’d check in.”

“How did you even know where I was?” Paige hates how cold and accusatory her voice sounds. It’s a version of herself she doesn’t quite know how to deal with, one that hasn’t ever appeared for anyone other than the girl in front of her, “I know I didn’t tell you.”

Any semblance of calm is gone from Azzi’s face, as she seems to realise that she’s not going to be getting any cordiality from her old friend.

“And we’re off to a great start,” she mutters under her breath before replying to Paige’s exact question, “no you didn’t. Your dad-”

“You talked to my dad?”

“Yeah. I mean you know Drew looks up to Jon and José so much and they still talk and stuff and he came over- Drew I mean- and then your dad was there and we just got to talking and you came up and yeah. He told me and well I live here, kinda, so I thought- well I thought maybe you’d like some company?”

As Azzi’s rambling explanation comes to an end, Paige doesn’t miss the tinge of hopefulness in her voice at the last bit. The younger girl shuffles her feet, as she stares at the blonde expectantly.

“I don’t-” Paige struggles to draw in a breath as the voices in her head argue, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her words are met with silence as Azzi stares at her blankly.

“I- you,” she blinks rapidly, clearly at a loss for what to say at the blatant rejection, “I can’t come in?”

“It’s just- I’ve had a lot of people visit you know,” Paige bullshits, suddenly feeling very exhausted, “and my family were here a couple days and my friends are coming soon and-”

“And I’m neither of those things,” Azzi says, her tone low and breathy.

“That’s not what-”

“It is,” Azzi closes her eyes for a brief second, when she opens them, the flash of hurt in them feels like a dagger through Paige’s chest, “it is like that and it is what you meant and it’s- it’s fine.”

“Az-” Paige chokes out, feeling her lungs collapse when the other girl moves to leave, “please,” and she’s not even sure she’s asking for, but it’s not this. It’s never been this.

Azzi stops and when she turns back around, there’s a determined look on her face.

“I just-” she rubs her face, composing herself before focusing her eyes on Paige, “you’re the strongest person I know. And you’re going to come back from this, better than ever. I know it. The whole world knows it. Because you’re Paige Bueckers. You’re something else. You’re the hardest worker, you’re just- you’re the best.”

“You don’t-”

“Just- just let me finish okay and then, then I’ll go or whatever but Paige, you’re all of those things you know? Strong, brave, the best fucking player- but, it’s also okay if sometimes-, if sometimes you aren’t. It’s okay because this- this is hard, I know it is. So if sometimes you’re not strong or-, or brave- or not feeling like working hard- it’s okay. And if there are moments where you- where you want to give up, that’s okay too. It doesn’t make you- it doesn’t make you any less than what you are. It just makes you human, and it’s okay you know- to be human. It’s okay if- if you hurt and it’s okay if you’re not okay. It’s- it’s okay.”

The two girls stare at each other, eyes shining with tears, as Paige let’s Azzi’s words wash over her. She’s been told a lot of platitudes about her injury, from her coaches to her teammates to her family. And she knows she has plenty of people in her corner, who root for her and who genuinely do believe she’ll have the greatest comeback ever. But the motivational speeches get draining after a while and all she’s wanted to do for the last couple of weeks is wallow. Then she felt guilty about wallowing, that little voice in her head yelling at her to be productive and work on getting back to herself because that’s what everybody expected. Paige hadn’t even realised how badly she needed someone to give her permission to not be okay, not until the only person who’d ever known that part of her, had finally said the words she so desperately needed to hear.

The thing is, when she was younger, Paige used to keep everything bottled inside. She’d always been hyper aware of her privilege and her problems had always just seemed so insignificant in front of her parents’ or her friends. So she’d kept them to herself, trapping herself in a web of her own burdens that sometimes threatened to strangle her. And then she’d met a girl at a USA basketball camp when she was 15, a girl who had gently flicked her fingers and Paige’s walls had fallen like dominoes. She hadn’t even known she was drowning, until Azzi had shown up with a lifeboat.

“I just-,” Azzi breaks Paige out of her trance by breaking the eye contact between them, “I didn’t know if anybody had said that to you yet and I just- I wanted you to hear it.”

In the span of a minute, a thousand and one phrases take birth in Paige’s mind and then die on the tip of her tongue. She opens and closes her mouth, trying to express even one of the myriad of emotions that are swirling like a tornado in her brain. But nothing comes out except a litany of incomprehensible noises. And Azzi seems to find the wrong answer in the silence, giving the blonde a timid nod.

“Take care of yourself P,” her voice catches on the familiar nickname, as she shoots Paige a sad smile, before beginning to walk away. When Azzi chose UCLA, she’d lit Paige's heart on fire. So, Paige had drowned their friendship. And while all this time Azzi has struggled to breathe, Paige has burned but god, is she so fucking tired of it.

“Fuck, Azzi wait,” Paige curses, hobbling to catch up to the brunette, who stops with a sigh but doesn’t make a move to return. Stubborn as always, Paige thinks, continuing her way over. When she does catch up, she’s not fully sure what to say and so, “I uh- I’m out of milk.”

Azzi raises her eyebrows in question, crossing her arms protectively around her chest.

“I can’t drive,” Paige explains slowly, “or walk obviously.”

Realisation dawns on Azzi’s face, “you’re asking me to drive you to the grocery store?”

“I guess,” Paige shrugs, trying to be nonchalant.

“Seems like the kind of favour someone asks of their family, or their friends,” Azzi emphasises bitterly, never one to let go of an opportunity for sarcasm.

Paige flinches, “right, I kinda deserved that one.”

She gets a raised eyebrow in response that very much says “ya think?”

“I’m trying here,” she says quietly, and Azzi’s hard demeanour softens, “I’m raising a white flag Az, calling a truce or whatever but it kinda needs to go both ways.”

“What do you think me coming here was supposed to be?” the younger girl says exasperatedly, but she’s smiling again. It’s the third one Paige has gotten out of her today, and finally, she smiles back. They look a little foolish, standing in the apartment hallway, cheshire-cat-grinning at each other like idiots, but it feels like something has clicked into place again.

“I’ll go grab my wallet, you go heat up the car.”

“It’s like 110 degrees dude.”

“Bro shut up, you know what I mean,” Paige huffs and when it makes Azzi laugh, she feels like she’s floating. It’s not as if she hasn’t been happy in a year because won’t you look at that, her world did keep turning after that one decision. But this is different. She feels airy and light, like she could jump off a cliff and fly instead of fall.

“Well hurry up, I have things to do outside of just being your chauffeur.”

“Poor passenger princess, how the roles have reversed,” Paige mocks and it earns her an ever so familiar fond eye roll and for the first time in a year, she feels free.

***

When she gets downstairs, Azzi’s leaning against her car door, a pair of sunglasses shielding her eyes. The hot California sun shines brightly against her tan skin, and Paige’s heart stutters because fuck, Azzi is golden. She looks every bit reminiscent of the girl Paige still has memorised and yet, every bit the promise of a girl Paige wants to learn by heart.

“Nice car,” Paige smirks, alerting the younger girl of her presence.

“It does the job,” Azzi says, looking up with a smile of her own, opening the passenger door for Paige to get in, “not all of us are raking in NIL deals to get the big guns, but we make do.”

“Steph Curry brand ambassador say what now?” the blonde girl teases as she slides into the car. When she looks up, Azzi’s frozen in place, “what?”

“Nothing I just-” she’s wearing sunglasses, but Paige knows Azzi's trying to avert her gaze, “I’m kinda surprised you know that.”

It’s Paige’s turn to look away, their newfound comfort giving away to that old awkwardness, “I keep up with most basketball news.”

To Azzi’s credit she doesn’t push. Instead, she makes her way into the driver seat without another sound. She’s about to connect her phone to the aux but Paige beats her to it.

“Hey,” Azzi squeals, making grabby hands, “my car, my rules, my music.”

“Nuh-uh injury privileges,” Paige gloats, sticking out her tongue.

“That’s not a thing.”

“Is too.”

“Fine, we’ll listen to your crap music.”

“I resent that,” Paige retorts, as Drake blasts through the speakers. The sound of it makes Azzi groan, and she dramatically bangs her head against the steering wheel. Paige spends the rest of the car ride singing at the top of her lungs. Azzi spends the rest of the car ride alternating between shaking her head and joining in with the singing. It’s like they’re back in 2020 all over again, back before they found themselves in the whirlwind of life, back when they were just Paige and Azzi.

***

Their trip inside the grocery store takes less time than the ride to get there, even if Paige takes her time dilly-dallying in the dairy section, pretending she’s going to get anything other than just regular milk. She’s overly conscious of the fact that their time together might be coming to an end, that this time she might actually have to deal with saying goodbye. But she’s not ready to go back to missing Azzi just yet.

“Maybe you can show me your dorm,” she says quietly, once they're both back in the car, playing with the hem of her shirt. Beside her, Azzi draws in a sharp intake of breath, clearly not having expected Paige to want that of all things. In all honesty, the idea of stepping into the world that had stolen Azzi from her is not all that appealing to Paige but she wants to hold onto this moment just a little bit longer.

“You wanna see my dorm?”

“A chance to see how the non-blue blood peasants live? I’d never pass it up.”

“Non blue blood,” Azzi scoffs, "Ever heard of John Wooden?”

“I was talking about women’s basketball but yeah I have heard of him. I won the award last year. Over you,” Paige smirks, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Not everyone’s a phenom their freshman year,” Azzi retorts fondly, unable to mask the hint of pride in her voice.

“Well we’ll see this year-” Paige stops herself, cold seeping into her lungs, as she remembers why she’s in the stupid state of California in the first place. The lighthearted mood in the car goes tumbling out the window as her words hang like a dagger in the air.

“Paige,” Azzi whispers, trying to wrap that one syllable in comfort. She reaches out to touch the blonde’s shoulder but must think better of it because her hand hovers mid-air for a second, before she pulls it back. Paige is suddenly hyper aware of the fact they haven’t touched yet. It’s a reminder of the fact that whatever progress they’ve made today, there’s still so much they haven’t even begun to unpack.

“It’s fine,” Paige’s voice is steely, “just drive.”

Azzi opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, before simply nodding and starting the ignition. She’s clearly holding back and Paige doesn’t know how to feel about it. There’s a part of her that wants Azzi to push her to talk like she would before, but there's another part of her that knows this new rope they’re trying to string between them is fragile.

They ride in silence to Azzi’s apartment, both of them too caught up in their own thoughts to bother with music this time. As the UCLA campus nears, Paige can’t help but hate it just a little bit. She’s aware she’s being petty. Acting like Storrs, Connecticut is some hub of beauty is probably a stretch of the imagination for anyone but she’s determined to dislike this place out of principle.

“Hmm not too shabby but like where’s the fucking cows?” Paige jokes, as the car comes to a stop in front of Azzi’s apartment building. She steps out gingerly, pretending to inspect her surroundings, making tsk-tsk noises at the most random things.

“I’ve seen your apartment Bueckers, don’t even try,” Azzi retorts.

It shouldn’t surprise Paige to see one of Azzi’s teammates when they enter her living room. It’s just like UConn really in the sense that there’s always someone there when you walk in but something about seeing Charisma Osborne just chilling in Azzi’s space suddenly makes it more real that the younger girl is definitely a UCLA Bruin.

“Oh,” Charisma gives Paige a once-over, clearly not having expected to see her, “hi Paige.”

Paige waves, shuffling her weight on her crutches, unsure what to say. It’s not like she doesn’t know Charisma, they’ve literally won a gold medal together for USA basketball. She’s even met the girl a couple of times after and she likes her, she does. But her bitter brain is focused on the fact that this is one of those girls who had gotten Azzi as their teammate, one of the girls who got to see Azzi everyday. All things Paige had not gotten.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing company Az,” Charisma says pointedly, looking at Azzi and Paige bristles at the use of the nickname. She’s being all sorts of ridiculous but at least she’s self-aware of it.

“Last minute decisions,” Azzi replies airily. The two girls lock eyes and Paige can tell they’re having some sort of unspoken conversation and now the green-eyed envy monster is out in full force.

“I insisted on seeing her dorm,” she says finally, breaking into whatever staring competition the two UCLA guards are having.

“It’s not a problem,” Charisma reassures, standing up from her position on the couch, and coming over to give Paige a tentative hug, “I just didn’t know you were coming. But it’s good to see you, Paige.”

“Yeah,” Paige tries to muster up a proper smile as she leans in to return the hug but it comes out more like a grimace, “you too.”

“We’re gonna go chill in my room,” Azzi says, beckoning to one of the doors in the hallways and Paige obediently follows her, waving a half-hearted goodbye to Charisma. She’s secretly pleased to have Azzi back to herself.

The room is nothing out of the ordinary except it has Azzi all over it. She’s in the pink comforter that is thrown haphazardly over a clearly not made bed. She’s in the unicorn plushies laid delicately over a dark blue couch. She’s in the little flower stickers that outline the mirror on the far side of the room. There’s a wall dedicated solely to pictures and fairy lights on one side and Paige is immediately drawn to it. A familiar ache reverberates in her chest as her eyes flicker over the pictures of Azzi’s family. She’s missed them. Then there’s the photographs of Azzi in her UCLA uniform, her teammates surrounding her and Paige has to resist the dangerous urge to rip those off the wall. Be happy for her happiness, the logical part of her brain yells, not seeming to realise she’d left any chance of that in the dirt a year ago. As she tears her eyes away from those offending pictures, they land instead on a whole other set of photographs and she feels her heart catch in her throat.

It’s a set of three images of her and Azzi, taken at various moments. Paige brushes her thumb against the one of the two of them with their arms around each other at the Minnesota state fair. Azzi’s beaming at the camera and Paige is beaming at Azzi. They look so young, so naive, so happy.

“I’m on your wall,” Paige breathes out, turning to face her best friend, “Fuck, I’m on you wall.”

“Of course you are,” Azzi affirms, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world but she shuffles nervously, giving away the reality behind her stable demeanour.

“I never answered your texts. I didn’t call you back,” Paige lists quietly as the first tear falls from her eyes; she’s been holding them back all day, “and I’m on your fucking wall.”

Azzi looks away, unsure how to deal with the fact that apparently they’re no longer tip-toeing around the past. She doesn’t know how to tell the blonde that there had never really been a second thought about whether or not those photos were going up on the wall.

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs finally, “you’re my best friend. You’re always gonna be my best friend. Ride or die right?”

“Ride or die,” Paige repeats in a whisper before she all but throws herself at Azzi, practically moulding herself into the younger girl’s body. Caught off guard, Azzi stiffens for a second, before relaxing into it. It’s late outside and the sun has set, but in this moment, the world shines the brightest it has in a year as two stubborn girls finally find their way home to each other.

***

That night, Azzi asks her tentatively if she wants to stay over and of course Paige agrees. Lying awake next to a familiar stranger, she lets herself finally remember the day things had first started unravelling.

November 2020

“You’ll probably get one of the upstairs apartments, so we probably won’t actually be living together which is good because can you imagine if I had to see your goofy ass 24/7?” Paige puts a dramatic hand to her forehead, as she leads Azzi into her room.

She’s too caught up in her excitement having Azzi at UConn, and planning what’ll happen next year, to notice that the girl in question isn’t participating at all in her enthusiasm. Paige has been waiting for what feels like a year (in reality it’s only been a few months) to finally have her best friend come visit. The minute the car had pulled up, she’d taken it upon herself to start her sales pitch all over again, missing the sympathetic smiles she’d gotten from the rest of the Fudd family as she pulled Azzi away to show her the glories of the campus.

“Did you see my assist to Christyn today?” Paige gloats, falling onto her bed with a smirk.

“It was pretty great,” Azzi concedes.

“It was fucking perfect thank you very much. I set her up perfectly, exactly how she likes it.”

“Right.”

“And then did you see how excited the team was for her? For everyone? Never gonna find a greater group of girls.”

“They seem wonderful P.”

Paige furrows her eyebrows as she catches Azzi still lingering by the door instead of joining her on the bed. The brunette fidgets with the sleeve of her sweater, chewing on her lips.

“Are you allergic to my bed?” Paige waits for some smartass response. When she doesn’t get one, she frowns, instincts going haywire, “Az, you good?”

“I- '' Azzi looks away, swallowing nervously, “I need to tell you something and I- I’m not sure how you’re gonna react.”

“You get a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something in the last few months that I don’t know about?” She says it light-heartedly enough, but the thought of it sends a sharp sting through Paige’s heart. In hindsight, she thinks maybe she could have dealt with it having been that.

“What? No. Just- just don’t- dont take it personally okay. Like you can be upset about it but- but don’t hold it against me yeah? My parents- they said- they said you’d get it. You’d be upset but you’d- you’d get it because you- you get me right?”

Paige’s chest hammers as she watches the younger girl draw in a deep breath, “you’re scaring the shit out of me right now.”

“I’mcommittingtoUCLA” Azzi says all in one breath, the words blending together.

She’s sure she’s heard it wrong. There’s no way. After all this time, after all their conversations, all the pitches, how hard she had worked, there was no way this was going to be the end to all of Paige’s efforts.

“What?” she whispers, crossing her fingers that she has in fact misheard.

When Azzi averts her eyes, she knows she hasn’t, “I’m committing to UCLA.”

The first time Paige and Azzi met was somewhat awkward, what with Azzi’s shyness and Paige being slightly overeager to make a new friend. When they’d become bus buddies, they’d progressed to being casual acquaintances who could small talk and share smiles. And then the flight back to Minnesota happened and everything had changed. Every moment after was filled with conversation or laughs or a comfortable silence. Until this one, where the sudden silence between them foreshadows an ominous future.

“Say something,” Azzi says finally, her voice shaking.

Paige stares at her for a second before, “you named your dog Stewie.”

“What?”

“You named your dog Stewie. After Breanna Stewart who played at UConn. It’s not-” Paige wracks her brain, hands flying animatedly “it’s not Meyers or something, after someone who played at fucking UCLA. You named your dog after a UConn great. How are you going to take him to UCLA with you?”

Azzi stares at her, clearly not having expected that level of questioning of all things. Who could blame her when Paige herself feels a little insane.

“This is a joke right? You’re fucking with me? Ha ha ha very funny,” she claps deliriously, “hilarious prank seriously, like hats off you’ve outdone yourself but enough okay? Say sike right fucking now.”

Azzi makes a strangled noise, “it’s not a joke Paige. That’s- that’s my decision.”

“Then change it,” Paige yells, catapulting off the bed.

“Paige-”

“Have you told UCLA yet?”

“I wanted to tell my family and you first.”

“Oh wow, how kind of you. How fucking generous of you to do that Azzi,” Paige bites back sarcastically and Azzi flinches.

In a flash, Paige’s expression goes from angry to desperate, “you still have time to change your mind . Please just- just think about it again okay? You still have so much time and you know what, stay here for a couple more days. Spend time with the team, with the coaches, with me and you’ll see-. UCLA just sounds nice you know? California, the sun, I get it, of course it’s tempting. But just- just stay here okay? And you’ll see this is where you belong,” she leaves the, with me, unsaid.

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice cracks. She takes a step toward her and then pauses. It’s the first time in a long time that Azzi’s hesitated when it comes to Paige. It won’t be the last. And when she looks at Paige through her long eyelashes, tears threatening to fall from her dark brown eyes, Paige knows she’s lost.

“No,” she’s pacing now, chest heaving up and down in a combination of frustration, anger and misery, “this is not fucking happening. We’re not doing this. I made you a whole recruitment video. Did you watch it? Do you know how long it took me to make it? Has the last year been a fucking joke to you?”

“Of course not-”

“Don’t even. Because clearly- clearly it has. Must’ve been hilarious watching me beg and plead with you when you already fucking knew you were going to committ somewhere else.”

“That’s not fair,” Azzi’s voice rises at the accusation, “I had no idea where I was going until a couple of weeks ago. You can’t seriously think that low of me.”

“Not fair? You know what’s not fair, Azzi? We’ve been talking about playing together, about finally being on the same team, the same fucking state, for years. What’s not fair is you throwing all of that away on a whim.”

“I’m not committing to UCLA on a whim. This is my whole future we’re talking about. You don’t even know how much thought I’ve put into it. And I’m choosing what’s best for me. You can’t hold that against me Paige. You can’t.”

They stand on opposite sides of the room, taking in harsh staggered breaths and glaring at each other. The tension in the room is electric as the string connecting them frays. Paige and Azzi bicker, they don’t argue. Or at least, that’s how it used to be.

“Az?” their stare down is broken by a knock on the door as Katie Fudd lets herself in. Immediately, as she stares between her daughter and the girl who’d become just as important, Katie knows what has happened, “we’re going back to the air BnB, are you staying here?”

The answer should be obvious, like it used to be. Of course she would stay here. It was meant to be a no-brainer. But before Azzi can say that, Paige intervenes and the string snaps.

“She’s going with you,” the blonde says firmly, before turning her back. She won’t let Azzi see the tears, she won’t. For her part, the brunette stares at Paige’s back silently for a couple of seconds, before a mask of determination slips on.

“Fine. If that’s what you fucking want,” Azzi sneers before brushing past her mom, eager to get away and hide her own tears.

When Paige turns back around, Katie is already looking at her. The older woman walks the length of the room and pulls the younger girl into a hug that she readily melts into. Paige sniffles as Azzi’s mom soothingly rubs her back.

“We’re driving back tomorrow morning,” Katie whispers quietly into Paige’s hair, “I know you’re mad sweetheart but come say goodbye okay?”

And she does. She shows up with only half an hour or so remaining before Azzi leaves, but Paige shows up. They hug stiffly, exchanging maybe a sentence or two but in that moment it’s enough. They’ll call later when Azzi gets home and it’ll be awkward for a little bit but they’ll break through. They’ll figure out a way to go on without having to talk about the “big thing”. They’ll hold on as long as they can, until they can’t anymore.

***

September 2022

After the night Paige stays over at Azzi’s apartment, they're attached at the hip for the next few weeks, just like old times. They’ve fallen into a routine of sorts. Azzi shows up without fail every day after practice to pick Paige up from her rehab, and then the rest of the younger girl’s time is Paige’s. The first time she’d seen the brunette leaning casually against her car, Paige had had to stop herself from jumping into her arms. She’d played it as nonchalant as possible, joking about Azzi being stalker, but inside, she could feel it again, the dangerously familiar tap of this is all I’ll ever need.

On days Paige doesn’t have rehab, Azzi still shows up right on time on her doorstep with a board game or food or something. It’s gotten to the point where every time the doorbell rings, Paige opens it expecting Azzi. The couple times it’s not, she tries and fails to hide the disappointment on her face. It earns her an eye roll from the delivery guy but it’s worth it for the laugh it elicits from Azzi when she tells her the story. They fall back together as if they’d never fallen apart. And what’s more terrifying than finding out that she’d never truly gotten over old Azzi, is realising how easy it would be to fall in love with new Azzi.

When Caroline, Nika and Piath come to visit the weekend after, all three of them can immediately tell that something's changed. Their teammate seems lighter, as if she’s finally found a sense of calm. But their incessant prodding and raised eyebrows are only met with shrugs from a tight-lipped Paige. It isn’t until Azzi calls, and Nika snatches the phone out of Paige’s hands, gasping at the callerID, that they finally figure out why their point guard has a new kick in her step.

“You should invite her out with us tonight,” Caroline is the first to speak, giving Paige an encouraging smile.

“Carol,” Nika hisses, “we can’t just invite the enemy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Paige defends immediately, “we don’t even have a rivalry with UCLA.”

Nika scoffs indignantly, “of course she is. She picked a different school over us. Over UConn! That’s weird. Who even does that?”

“Lots of people do,” Caroline, who occasionally texts Azzi (albeit she’s kept that somewhat of a secret), supplies helpfully, shrugging when the Croatian glares at her.

Piath nudges Paige when she notices the other girl has gone quiet, “ignore Nika. She doesn’t mean it, you know that. If you wanna invite her, invite her.”

And she does, she wants to so badly. It’s insane really because it hasn’t even been a full day since they’d last seen each other but Paige swears something inside her has been missing since. There’s something awfully terrifying about letting Azzi back into the UConn version of her world, the world that the younger girl had once rejected. Still, if they’re going to try this again, she supposes sooner or later, it’ll have to happen.

“Put her on speaker,” Nika orders when Paige grabs her phone back from her.

“Nika,” Caroline, younger only by age, warns, pulling the other girl away, “we’re supposed to be cheering her up, not making life harder.”

Azzi answers on the third ring, her voice teasing “miss me already?”

Yes, Paige thinks, sometimes I think I miss you even when you’re right here next to me, sometimes I think I’ll miss you forever. But she doesn’t say any of that.

“Not a chance,” she scoffs instead, “besides you called me first.”

“Butt dial.”

“Mmmhmm I’m sure.”

“Shut up,” Azzi laughs and Paige is glad her teammates aren’t here to see the goofy grin that appears on her face at the sound of it, “I just wanted to see if we were doing something tonight?”

“Yeah- umm- you remember I told you about the girls coming down this weekend. They- uh- they wanted to go out tonight and uh- you could come along?”

There’s a pause on the other end and Paige knows Azzi’s going through the same thought process as her.

“I don’t wanna intrude on your time with your team P-”

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” Paige cuts in immediately and although she figured her teammates were definitely eavesdropping, Nika cursing about her being “pussywhipped” followed by in-sync shushing from Piath and Caroline, gives them away.

On the other end of the line, Azzi’s quiet again, “it’s okay P, you go have fun with your friends. We don’t have to spend every night together. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

What she doesn’t say is that maybe they need to learn how to live like that again, how to live apart again. Paige is almost done with the LA part of her rehab, something both of them are still in denial about. It’s only a matter of time before they return back to their two separate worlds and neither of them are sure they’ve managed to repair their friendship enough to not slip back into their foolishness again.

“But I wanna see you tonight,” Paige whines, her tone teetering on the edge of sounding like a desperate girlfriend, “please.”

“Paige-”

“Pleaseeeeeee. I’m literally injured and begging Az, it’d be mean to say no.”

“What does your injury even have to do with any of this?” Azzi sighs exasperatedly, “but yeah okay fine calm down Bueckers. Send me an address, I’ll be there.”

“You don’t wanna come pregame here?”

“Dude, let's not push it, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay see you,” Paige pauses, “hey Az?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really happy you’re coming tonight.”

“I’m really happy you’re happy P.”

***

Azzi Fudd is a menace. See, people often get fooled by her soft-spoken nature and shy demeanour, but Paige has been around her long enough to know the truth. In the beginning it was the witty quips the younger girl always had ready whenever they were having some ridiculous argument. After that, it was the direct pranks that wreaked havoc on Paige’s life. But tonight, in Paige’s opinion, tonight is Azzi’s worst offence. She had to have done it on purpose, had to have known the sheer effect it would have on Paige to see her dressed like that. The red criss-cross tank top fits her like a mould and the way her ripped jeans shorts cling to her hips leaves little to the imagination. Her diamond belly button piercing shines against her skin, taunting Paige. She wants to touch, she wants to feel, she wants to do all the unspeakable things in her mind but she’s forced to just watch.

What she hates most though, is that everybody else is watching too. Since Azzi’s walked into the club, Paige has had to fight the urge to strangle every stranger who had given her best friend an appraising once-over. Some of them let their eyes linger long enough to give her time to plot out the perfect murder strategy (it’s the only way she can stop herself from actually committing a crime tonight). And, as Azzi dances with Caroline, hips swaying to the beat and holding the other girl a little closely, Paige has the irrational urge to hit sweet, kind Caroline of all people.

The thing is, Azzi’s been a little too attached to Caroline since she got here in Paige’s opinion. And she gets it. Piath, bless her soul, is trying but has always been a little awkward around new people. Nika is definitely not trying, loyally holding onto a grudge on behalf of Paige. Which leaves Caroline, who’s already familiar territory and the younger girl has grasped onto her like a lifeline. But enough is enough Paige decides, as she slips out of her seat with a determined look. Smoothly, she cuts right in between Caroline and Azzi.

“Nika’s a little wasted and I don’t want to deal with,” it’s a blatant lie but Paige knows appealing to Caroline’s more motherly instincts will get her what she wants. She gets a raised eyebrow in return, her teammate clearly catching her ruse because Nika looks visibly fine. But it works anyway and Paige gets Azzi to herself. She reaches for the other girl’s hand, twirling her just so she can hear that stupid silly laugh, and then pulling her back so she’s facing Paige.

“You having fun?”

“Always have fun with you P,” Azzi replies. She’s clearly tipsy but there’s no hint of insincerity in her voice. It makes Paige’s breath hitch.

“Yeah?” she whispers, taking a step closer, “more than with Carol?”

Azzi giggles, “more than anyone.”

The song in the club changes and as the crowd adjusts to it, someone jostles Azzi and immediately Paige grabs at her hips to steady her. As she finds her balance, Azzi’s giggles subside, realising just how close she is to the blonde now. They’re stuck in slow motion as the world dances around them. The combination of adrenaline and alcohol pumping through her veins is what convinces Paige to test the limits. One hand still squeezing at Azzi’s bare waist, revelling in finally getting to touch, she brings up her thumb to trace around Azzi’s lips. The younger girl gulps, but when she doesn’t try to move away, confidence pulses through Paige. Her heart is beating frantically out of her chest, years and years of want and need that she’d shoved as far away as possible, desperately fighting to get to the surface.

Pushing herself closer, so their chests are now pressed to each other and Azzi’s hands have no choice but to latch onto her biceps, Paige places a delicate, teasing kiss to the corner of Azzi’s lips. She wishes she could record the whine it elicits and listen to it on loop for hours. Smirking, she moves to place another one on the other side, this time pressing her lips a little harder, a little longer. Azzi’s eyes are closed shut, hands gripping onto Paige so tightly, she knows there’ll be a mark on her biceps tomorrow. She cups Azzi’s face with both hands now, her own eyes shutting involuntarily, as she finally, finally brushes their lips together.

This time, the strangled noise that leaves Azzi’s throat, is one Paige wishes she could forget as the younger girl rips herself away from Paige, the force of it creating almost a foot of distance between them. It doesn’t take long for the familiar sting of rejection to make itself home in her heart. Azzi’s eyes are brimming with tears as she manically shakes her head. Without a word, she rushes through the crowd, making a beeline for the exit, leaving Paige confused and craving for another taste.

***

It takes Paige a second to gather her thoughts before following the brunette. She ignores the confused glances from her teammates, making some bullshit excuse about fresh air as she fights her way outside. When she gets there, Azzi’s leaning against the wall, eyes closed as she takes in long deep breaths.

“That’s not usually how girls react when I try to kiss them,” Paige says after a second, trying to make light of the situation, even if her heart is heavy with anxiety.

It’s the wrong thing to say because Azzi scoffs, “you kiss a lot of girls don’t you.”

“Yeah and most of them kiss me back,” Paige bites back.

She’s taken aback by the fire in the darker-skinned girl’s eyes as Azzi finally opens them, heaving herself off the wall.

“I won’t be one of your groupies Paige. I won’t be one of your desperate one night stands. I won’t be just some other hookup. I won’t!”

Frankly she’s a little offended Azzi would even think that of her. She’s aware of her reputation. In fact she’d probably fed into it a little bit, exaggerating her escapades to Azzi on the phone her freshman year, when they had been on the verge of combusing and she’d been desperate to get a rise out of the younger girl. Last year though, last year was different. But Azzi doesn’t know that.

“I don’t want you to be any of that,” she replies feebly.

“Then what, do you want me to be?” Azzi’s voice rises with each syllable.

Paige stutters, the words getting stuck in her throat. The truth is she wants Azzi to be everything. The truth is, Azzi already is everything. Except there’s too much between them and she just can’t say it. They stand in silence until Azzi finally breaks it.

“I think these last few weeks of summer might have been the best of my life,” she says miserably, “and that might be the worst thing ever you know? Because it’s not real. You’re gonna go back to your world and you’ll- you’ll stop replying to my texts and you’ll stop- you’ll stop calling me and I- I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“That’s an awful lot of assumptions you’re making about me,” Paige is on defensive mode now, feeling a fight brewing.

“Because that’s what happened. Go back through your fucking phone Paige. Look at all the times I tried. And all the times you never did. You just- you cut me out Paige.”

“That’s not fair. You chose fucking UCLA. Over me.”

“No,” Azzi corrects immediately, anger seeping into her tone, “I chose UCLA over UConn. You made it about yourself.”

Paige swallows back a bitter response in favour of trying to prevent a full-fledged argument, “okay, okay let’s not- let’s not do this okay. It’ll be better this time- I- I won’t ignore your calls or texts or you okay? Just- can we just go back inside please?”

“That’s the thing,” Azzi’s anger is gone, replaced by a sad wistful smile, “I don’t know if I believe that you will,” a single tear rolls down her cheek, “I- I don’t fully trust you and you haven’t fully forgiven me. So where do we go from here?”

It’s a lie what they say about the truth setting you free, Paige thinks as Azzi’s words squeeze at her heart, because all it’s done is unleash shackles of despair that holds them both hostage. It had been easy the last couple of weeks, to pretend the last year had never happened. It had been easy for Paige to pretend that she was over what happened, to ignore the part of her brain that still felt so utterly betrayed.

“Azzi, what are you saying? You don’t- you don’t wanna be friends?” Paige feels nauseous even saying it.

“No I-” Azzi chews at her bottom lip, “I’m saying this- us- we’re too fragile to complicate even more. I barely- fuck- Paige, I barely survived losing my best friend. I don’t think I could survive losing something more.”

The worst thing about it all, is that it makes sense. And really, Paige doesn’t know what she’d expected to happen if Azzi hadn’t pulled away when she did. They’d kiss, maybe give in and do more and then what? Shake hands and walk away? Or make false promises that would ultimately lead to resentment? No, Years and years of something deserved better than either of those masochistic endings. It makes sense, it does but it doesn’t mean Paige has to like it.

In front of her, all the fight evaporates from Azzi’s body, as the younger girl leans back against the brick wall of the club, sliding down and pulling her knees to her chest. She looks every bit as miserable as Paige feels and all the blonde wants to do is wipe away the stress lines creasing against the younger girl’s beautiful phase. She moves to sit down next to her best friend, shuffling so their shoulders are pressed together and intertwines their fingers together. A sigh of relief escapes her when Azzi doesn’t immediately pull away. Instead, she squeezes their hands tighter, as if she’s scared that if she lets go, Paige will disappear.

“You didn’t lose me you know,” Paige says softly after a second, nudging Azzi’s shoulder when the other girl lets out a noise of protest, “I know, I know it feels like you did. It felt like that to me too except- every time something good or bad happened to me, I heard your voice or- or maybe I just really wanted too. We got lost a little bit but I didn’t- I didn’t lose you and you didn’t lose me. There’s a difference. I don’t think we could ever lose each other like that. Not really.”

When Azzi turns to look at her, the golden glow of the street lights illuminate the emotions in her eyes. She gives Paige a soft smile, “well Bueckers, if basketball doesn’t work out, maybe you have a future in poetry.”

“I could do whatever I wanted,” except what I want to do the most.

It doesn’t take long for the Uber Azzi’s already called to start pulling up and that familiar ache of longing creeps into Paige’s spine. She knows tonight isn’t their final goodbye; they still have a couple more days. But those days will be spent ignoring and pretending, unlike tonight and the firm grip they have on reality. They rise off of the cold pavement together, dusting themselves off. It takes a second of awkward glances before they’re surging into each other’s arms, squeezing each other so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. Paige wills herself not to cry, hiding her face in the crook of Azzi’s neck.

“We’ll be okay,” she whispers, unsure if it’s more for her benefit or Azzi’s.

The unwanted beep of a car is the only reason they reluctantly pull away, hurriedly wiping away unshed tears, they pretend the other can’t see. Azzi musters up a brave smile, before slowly moving away and it takes everything in Paige not to crumble and begs her to stay. Azzi’s halfway to the car when she turns back and it feels like Paige can breathe again. The brunette’s face is conflicted for a second before turning determined, as she starts walking back up.

“Az-”

Paige’s confusion is stifled as Azzi fists her shirt, pulling her into a searing kiss. It’s desperate and needy and it’s only a few seconds before the dark-haired girl is pulling away again, but it sets Paige’s entire world off balance.

“I just-” Azzi’s breathing is rapid and uneven, “I’ve wanted to do that since I was fifteen and- just- fuck- I just-,” she blinks up at Paige, “I hate- I hate leaving things unfinished and for fucks sake if you don’t call me back this time Bueckers- just- don’t be a stranger.”

Paige doesn’t get time to answer, she doesn’t think she could even if she did, because Azzi scurries away almost immediately. She stops when she gets to the car, turning back to give Paige one final look, a look that will haunt Paige forever, before getting into the backseat. As Paige watches the back of Azzi’s uber gets smaller and smaller, her tongue darts across her lips as she tries to memorise the faintest taste of Azzi’s strawberry-flavoured lipstick. And she knows, she’s so utterly and completely and terribly fucked.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 7 months

Text

Corpse Bride

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Dead!Reader

Word Count: ~6.6k

Warnings: marrying the dead, if you've seen the movie, then you know what to expect. if you haven't seen the movie, then go watch it. it's amazing

Summary: Your hopes and dreams were taken from you in the blink of an eye. You're destined to spend eternity in the viel, waiting for your Prince Charming to show up. When he does, he claims it was a mistake. How can you convince him to stay? Will you get your second chance at love?

Square Filled: character death (2022) for @cmbingo

Author’s Note: this is one of my favorite movies, so I decided to write a story based on it.

Spencer paces the forest floor nervously with the engagement ring in his hand. He’s been a nervous wreck ever since he asked his short-term girlfriend to marry him. He’s not ready for marriage whatsoever but his parents and her parents think this marriage is a good thing and will benefit both families. His family is well off while hers is a bit poor. Her family owns a business Spencer’s parents want a part of, so if he scratches her back, she scratches his.

No matter what he does, he can’t seem to get it right. The vows are pretty easy to remember but he can’t seem to get the words out. He likes Maeve a lot and there is potential for love later on down the road but his parents want this to happen now. He left the rehearsal wedding to be on his own to gather his thoughts and feelings about this whole thing.

“I can’t do this. I’m not ready to be a husband. What were my parents thinking?” he thinks out loud. “I like Maeve. I like how she makes me feel but is she ready to be a wife? Does she even want this?”

Spencer paces back and forth with the ring in his hand.

“Come on, Spencer! What am I saying? I can’t do this to Maeve. She deserves everything good coming her way. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I were to walk out on her now? I can do this. Just take it one step at a time.”

Spencer straightens and fixes his tie to make himself look more presentable even though there is no one around but him. He raises his right hand confidently and begins his vows.

“With this hand, I will lift your sorrow.” He grabs a branch nearby and pretends it’s Maeve’s delicate one. “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.” He breaks off the branch and pretends it’s the cup of wine he’ll have to lift and drink from at the actual wedding. He walks over to a small stump and pretends it’s a candle that he will have to light. “With this candle, I will light your way in darkness.” He drops the branch and looks over at a set of vines that looks like a human hand. He grabs it gently and takes out the ring so he can slide it on one of the small sticks protruding from the base. “With this ring, I ask you to be mine.”

He slides the ring onto one of the sticks and pulls away with a satisfied smile. This is it, this is the moment you’ve been waiting for. You’ve laid to rest in this forest for almost half a decade just waiting for your Prince Charming to finally come save you. The one you were with did you dirty but you were okay with waiting for the right one to come by, and he’s finally here. The ring he slid on your finger is shiny and delicate just like your feelings.

Spencer looks around the empty forest and decides it’s best if he goes back to his family and does the wedding rehearsal right. Just as he is about to grab the ring, the branch crackles to life. He jumps back in shock as the ground shakes with vigor. The ground cracks and opens to give you enough room to crawl out of your shallow grave.

Spencer yells in shock when he sees a deadly hand shoot up from the ground. It’s like a scene from The Living Dead coming to life. You claw your way out of your grave and stand to your full height, and you grin at the ring on your skeleton finger. Your entire left arm is just your bones as the flesh had been eaten off previously. Your right arm is covered with sickly grey flesh that hasn’t yet been devoured. Most of your body still contains your flesh with holes showing your bones. You’re wearing a dirty white wedding dress that was your mother’s. It goes all the way down to your feet but has a slit in the front of it that goes up to your mid-thigh. It shows off both your legs when you walk--one flesh and one completely bare to the bone.

If Spencer didn’t know any better, he might have thought you were someone from a movie with a bunch of makeup on you. However, he just saw you claw your way back to the surface of Earth like it was nothing.

“My, oh my! What a beautiful ring!” you sing and dance happily around your new husband. Hearing you speak breaks Spencer out of a trance. He quickly gets up and starts running away from you, scared for his life. “Wait! Where are you going?”

Spencer is fast when he thinks his life is in danger, but you know these woods like the back of your hand. You used to sneak out here with your fiance to get away from your lives. That’s back when you thought you were going to be happy for the rest of your life. There are plentiful shortcuts to get to the entrance into the forest, so you take those to catch up to Spencer.

He pants heavily and decides to take a break right on the bridge that separates the town from the forest. He looks behind him but you’re not there. He thinks he’s safe so he turns to walk back into town but stops when you’re right in front of him. He yells and jumps back but you’re not letting him go this time.

“I do. You may not kiss the bride,” you smile.

You grab him and lean in to kiss him but he faints in your arms. You’ve never seen a person faint before. There is someone who can help so you use your deadly powers to summon yourself back into the underworld with Spencer in hand.

“Y/N! New arrival?” your best friend Marcy asks.

“No, it’s my husband.”

“Husband? That dick returned?”

“No, silly. His name is Spencer. He said his vows perfectly and gave me this ring.” You show off the delicate diamond that shines brightly against your white bones. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“What happened to him?”

“He fainted as soon as I kissed him. I’m trying to get him to Dr. Hubert. He’ll be able to help him.”

“Let me help you.”

You two take Spencer over to the doctor’s office even though none of the dead need to be seen by the doctor. He’s often stated it keeps him tied to his humanity. The doctor’s office is located right next to the bar everyone hangs out in so you’re not surprised to see the doctor taking shot after shot.

“Dr. Hubert!”

“Y/N, darling! We’ve missed you. How was the surface?”

“Riveting. I got married,” you grin and show off your ring.

“Splendid! Where is he?”

“Right here,” you say and show him Spencer who is still out cold. “He fainted when I kissed him. Is there something you can do to help him?”

“Oh, my. He’s living!”

Everyone stops their chatter to look over at Spencer. As soon as they hear a living is among them, they all get curious. No living people visit you so it’s amazing when someone does.

“Yes. Can you wake him up?”

“Let me at him!” The small bartender scatters across the bar table using his tiny bug legs. He was decapitated many centuries ago, so the only thing keeping him moving is the bugs that live inside his head. “I can tickle him awake.”

“I don’t think so, Pierre. Let Dr. Hubert handle this one.”

“Yes, I see the problem. Charger, your finest bottle, please.” The other bartender gets the best bottle of alcohol and hands it over to the doctor. He downs a shot before hovering the top of it underneath Spencer’s nose. Spencer gets one whiff of the stuff and shoots awake, like smelling salts. “Works like a charm.”

“Hey, whoa, you’re okay, darling,” you grin and calm him down.

He sees all kinds of dead people in all different stages of decomposition which freaks him out. He scrambles to get up and backs into someone who has a gaping hole in her throat.

“Are you sure he’s the one you married? He looks so scared,” Marcy asks you.

“Yes. He said his vows perfectly. Spencer, please calm down. Let me explain.”

Spencer doesn’t give you a chance because he’s already trying to get away from you. He pushes past many skeletons without knowing where he’s going. All he knows is he needs to get the hell out of here. You sigh and look at everyone who is staring at you.

“I’m sorry. He’s new at all of this. Let me go talk to him.” You follow in his footsteps but calmly. “Spencer! Come back, darling!” Spencer weaves in and out of the crowd, taking left and right turns haphazardly without knowing where it’s going to take him. “Spencer, darling, where are you?” You turn to see his legs disappear around the corner and when you go investigate, you see a set of stairs leading up to the cliffs above. Spencer is sitting on the bench trying to catch his breath. “There you are, silly.” He jumps at your voice and is about to run again but you hold your hands up. “Please don’t run. Let me explain everything.”

“Fine,” he sighs, mostly because he doesn't want to keep running.

You walk to the railing along the cliff’s edge and look at the city below.

“Isn’t this view amazing? It takes my breath away. You know, if I had any,” you chuckle. You walk over to Spencer and join him on the bench, and you smooth down your dress. “I’ll answer any questions you have.”

“What is going on? Who are you? Where am I? Who are all those people down there? Is this a joke? Is this real life?”

“Calm down, love,” you giggle. “One question at a time.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Y/N.”

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the Underworld. It’s the place where everyone goes when they die. There is no Heaven or Hell. It’s all one place where we all reside.”

“So, you’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“How did you die?” Spencer’s eyes widen when he realizes how inappropriate that question is. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.”

“Spencer, you’re my husband. You can ask me anything you want. I was once in love with someone else. He was much older than I was and he told me everything I wanted to hear. He treated me like I was a princess and roped me in. When I told my parents about him, my father wasn’t thrilled I was with someone like him. He told me to stop seeing him but I wouldn't listen. This man and I decided to elope and run away. The only thing he told me to bring was cash and all the gold I could grab. I thought he wanted that to start our future with.”

Telling this story to someone in such an intimate setting brings you to tears but you refuse to let them fall.

“My mother’s wedding dress fit me like a glove. I waited at the base of the tree where you found me but he didn’t show up. I waited for what felt like hours. I was about to leave when he finally showed up. The last thing I saw was him charging at me. The first thing I saw when I woke up was my wedding dress was torn, my cash and gold were missing, and my skin was cold as ice. I was dead. I laid at the base of that tree for years, waiting for my Prince Charming to save me. Then you came along, and everything fell into place.”

“I‘m sorry,” Spencer sighs. “No one deserves that.”

“It’s in the past. You’re here now. Everything is better.”

“What about all those people down there? Are they all dead?”

“Everyone here is dead except for you. I had to bring you here. You fainted when I kissed you.”

“Can you blame me? The dead don’t rise where I’m from.”

“Fair enough,” you chuckle. “There’s good people down here. They’re super nice. If you allow it, I’d love to introduce you to some of them. Will that be okay?”

Spencer has had some time to wrap his head around this. He’s not panicking anymore, and his breathing is under control. He feels like he can address this with a calm head. He looks over your entire body and sees the ring on your skeleton hand. How the hell did he get himself in this situation?

“Yeah, that’ll be okay,” he nods.

You get up and grab Spencer’s hand that he doesn’t immediately shake off. You take him back down to the bar where everyone is having a good time. Marcy is doing shots with Dr. Hubert, and she waves you over when she sees you.

“That’s my best friend, Marcy. Next to her is Dr. Hubert. None of us need medical help, but he still likes to be called a doctor. It makes him in touch with his humanity.”

“Am I allowed to ask how they died?”

“Marcy’s story is even sadder than mine if you can believe it. I’ll let her tell you if she wants. Dr. Hubert drank himself to death. He wasn’t a bad doctor and was always sober when he was treating patients. He just had too much to drink one night and died.”

Pierre scatters across the bar counter with a tray on his head, passing out shots to people.

“Is that just a head?”

“Yeah, he was decapitated. We can’t find his body, but he’s happy like that. Come on, let me introduce you.” You take him over to the group and tap on Marcy’s shoulders. “Marcy, this is Spencer. He’s calmed down a bit.”

“Spencer! It’s so nice to meet you. You better make my girl happy.”

“Yeah,” Spencer chuckles, not knowing how to respond to that.

“Ah, he’s awake. Would you like a drink?” Pierre offers a shot.

“No, he doesn’t,” you quickly say and lean into Spencer. “You don’t want to drink this stuff.”

Spencer looks around the bar to see skeletons drinking. The liquid passes through them since they are all bones but they still enjoy it. There are others who are cut in half, so he can see the liquid slide down their bodies. Some are completely covered with flesh that looks like humans if not for the sickly grey skin. All these dead people but none of them look scary. In fact, everyone is having a good time just being in each other’s company.

If he’s being honest, this looks like a better time than most humans have up top.

“Come on, let’s sit.”

You take him over to a quiet spot in the corner where you can hear him if he talks. Spencer takes a seat and looks at the band on the stage. They’re all skeletons but they’re using their bodies as part of the instruments. One of them is using their legs as the base for a guitar, one is using a couple of heads as drums, and a bone trumpet. This is so weird but it seems to be working for them. Spencer has always thought there is some sort of life after you die, and this just so happens to be it.

“So, Spencer, tell me about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Why were you in that forest in the first place?”

Spencer thinks about the vows he’d been saying and his mind suddenly goes to Maeve who must be worrying crazy about him. He can’t possibly tell you about Maeve. He’s not sure how you’re going to react to that. He thinks of his parents and tries to think of a way to get out of this place.

“I needed some space to think, I guess.”

“By saying wedding vows?”

“My parents wanted me to marry young. I wanted to practice before I needed to use those vows.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you said them perfectly,” you smile.

“Thanks.”

“What are your parents like?”

“Overbearing at times. They come from money so they often forget what it’s like to live in a world where people don’t have money. Be thankful you don’t have to meet them.” A lightbulb goes off in Spencer’s head. This is how he’s going to get out of here. “You know what, you should meet them. After all, you are my wife.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea! Where are they buried?”

“Oh, um, they’re not… dead.”

“Oh, they’re still living? My, that does pose a challenge. One that isn’t impossible. I have an idea. Come with me.”

You take him to the one person who knows how to get to the land of the living. He’s been here the longest, one of the firsts. He’s known to many as the Caregiver because he takes care of anyone who seeks him out. His house is located on the other side of town in an old library. His love for books is unmatched by anyone who is here. People from all over come to see the kinds of books he has.

“Wow, I’ve never seen a library quite like this one before.”

The library is run down and has pieces of the building missing but Elder Henry finds it endearing.

“Elder Henry loves this place. Won’t part with it,” you whisper as you walk in. “Elder Henry? Are you around?”

“Whose there?” Elder Henry hobbles out from behind a stack of books and adjusts his glasses to see better. “Ah, Y/N. What a surprise. It’s so good to see you, my dear.”

“Likewise. I’d like you to meet my husband, Spencer.”

“What’s that? Husband?”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir,” Spencer nods politely.

“What brings you two here?”

“We’d like to go to the surface. I know you have a spell for that.”

“Ah, the surface. I’ve never seen the appeal of the living even when I was among them.”

“Is it possible? Can you do it?” Spencer asks eagerly.

“Yes, I can. There are rules, you know. Rules you must follow or else you’ll be sent back here.”

“Which are?”

Elder Henry walks around his area and gathers the things needed for the spell. He never inserts himself in other people’s business so if you want to go to the surface, then he’ll help you get there. He doesn’t need to know why, he doesn’t need to know your intentions, and he doesn’t want to know.

“For one, if you wish to come back, you must say the secret word. Hopscotch.”

“That’s fun to say,” you grin. “Hopscotch!”

“Yes, but you must abide by their rules. After all, you’re a guest in their world. Whatever they say goes, so you must be careful who you talk to.”

“Don’t worry, we’re just going to meet his parents. I’m sure they’ll love me.”

“Are you both sure you want to do this?”

“Yes,” Spencer says a bit too quickly. He clears his throat and says it more calmly this time. “I mean, yes. We do.”

“Alright then.” He takes out the ingredients and mixes them together to create a golden cloud. “Remember, to come back, you must say Hopscotch.”

Elder Henry dumps the cloud onto you and Spencer, and you’re immediately transported to the forest where he married you in the beginning. The moonlight is especially bright this time of night, and you enjoy the smell of fresh air. It’s been so long since you’ve been up here and the thought brings you to tears. You hum happily and start to elegantly dance in circles around Spencer.

“I’ve spent all my time in the darkness, I’ve forgotten how beautiful the moonlight is,” you grin.

He can’t believe he’s going to betray you. He’s wanted nothing more than to get out of that hellhole since arriving. He’s gotten to know you a bit better but not enough to want to love you. There is potential in you, for sure, and you’re such a sweet woman who wants nothing but love. You’re kind, intelligent, free, and you don’t let the bad things that have happened to you stop you from living your life.

How can he walk away knowing he’s not going to his parents?

“Okay, I’m going to go get them. You heard Elder Henry. It’s best if you minimize your contact with the living as much as possible. Just stay here and I’ll go get them.”

“Okay,” you nod and sit down on a tree stump.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t worry, I’ll bring them.”

“I believe you,” you smile. “I’ll wait right here.”

Spencer walks away from you and when he’s far enough away, he looks back at you. You’re dancing and swaying in the moonlight, your dress flowing all around you. His heart is heavy with guilt but he turns back around and continues walking. Only until you’re out of sight does he sprint all the back into town.

He runs by a wall of fliers and stops short when he sees his face on one of them. It’s a missing poster sign with a reward of ten grand on it.

MISSING: SPENCER WALTER REID. IF SEEN, PLEASE CONTACT DIANA AND WILL REID. MISSING SINCE SEPTEMBER 29TH.

That’s more than a week ago. What the hell? Time must pass differently than it does in the Underworld. He passes by his parent’s house and heads straight to Maeve’s parent’s place. He doesn’t want to alert her parents of his arrival so he goes to the back of the house where her bedroom is. Her bedroom has a balcony where she can relax that has glass double doors that lead into the room.

He jumps over the fence and knocks on the window lightly. Meave is sitting on the couch by the fireplace knitting. She jumps at the sudden noise at her back door and turns to see who it is. Her eyes widen when she sees it’s Spencer.

“Spencer!” she gasps and sets her knitting down to approach him. She unlocks the back door and opens it to let him in. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you alright?”

“I can’t really explain,” Spencer stutters.

Maeve reaches out and touches his hand and pulls away with a gasp.

“You’re as cold as death. What happened to you?”

“Listen, I was very apprehensive last week about getting married to you. We just got into a relationship and I thought I wasn’t ready. I freaked out and left. I guess I needed time to wrap my head around sharing my life with someone. Then something clicked in my head. I want to marry you. I want to be your husband. I want this wedding to happen. I really really like you.”

“Oh, Spencer,” she smiles and caresses his cheek. “I really like you too. Maybe even love.” She leans in to kiss him but Spencer notices something moving outside on Maeve’s balcony. When he sees the white wedding dress, he gasps and staggers back. “Spencer? What’s wrong?”

Before Spencer can say anything, you open the door and allow a huge gust of wind to enter the room. Your veil flows over your head, and you cough as you move it out of your face. You look at Spencer and notice a young woman standing next to him.

“Darling, I just wanted to meet--Spencer, who is this?” you ask and slink up to his side.

“Who is she?” Maeve asks.

“I’m his wife,” you say and show off the ring he gave you.

She gasps when she recognizes it as the one he was supposed to give her.

“Spencer?”

“No, Maeve. I’m not married to her. She’s dead.”

He grabs your skeleton arm to show her and your heart breaks at the thought of him going to another woman’s home after marrying you. You yank your arm from him and step away with a deadly look on your face.

“Hopscotch,” you growl.

Just as quickly as you came to the land of the living, you returned just the same. You appear in Elder Henry’s library where you departed from. You push Spencer away from you with hot tears running down your face.

“I can’t believe you! You lied to me! You didn’t want to visit your parents. You wanted to go to that other woman!”

“Don’t you understand? You’re the other woman.”

“No! You married me!” you cry and turn away from him.

“She’s got a point,” Elder Henry shrugs.

“I thought things were going really well,” you sniffle.

“Look, I’m sorry but this can’t work.”

“Why not?” you ask and turn to face him. “It’s my bones, isn’t it? You don’t want to see them.”

“No, it’s not that,” he sighs and runs his hands down his face. “Look, you’re an amazing woman. You’re kind and sweet and I hate what that man did to you. Under different circumstances, I’d honestly want to be with you, but we’re too different. You’re dead.”

“You should have thought of that before you asked me to marry you.”

“Why can’t you see that it was a mistake? I would never marry you.”

Silence falls in the library. If your heart could break, then they would hear it. You’ll never be someone’s bride. Always the bridesmaid. How could you expect someone as good-looking and amazing as Spencer would want you? He realizes what he said but he can’t take it back. Your shoulder sag and you sigh sadly. You turn away and walk away to be alone. Spencer opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

He lets you walk away.

You don’t know where you’re going just that you’re walking wherever your legs carry you. You find yourself at the park with a nice gazebo that is romantic most of the time. You take a seat under the middle of it and look at your wedding ring. He never wanted to marry you. This was a mistake. Who would want to marry you? Maybe you’re just damaged goods and too broken for anyone to love.

“Hey, are you okay? Where’s Spencer?” You look up to see Marcy walking over to you. It takes everything in you not to break down crying but you tell her the entire story. “I’m gonna beat his ass.”

“No, don’t. Maybe he’s right. Maybe we are too different. You should have seen her Marcy. She’s beautiful. Maybe he does belong with her. Little Miss Living,” you say in a sad, sarcastic tone. “With her rosy cheeks and beating heart.”

“Those girls got nothing on you. You’re so much better than them. Looks don’t matter. You’re such a kind and beautiful soul.” Her pep talk doesn’t seem to be working so she tries something else. “What does she have that you don’t? I don’t need to know what she looks like to know she doesn’t hold a candle to your beautiful smile.”

“How about a pulse?” you sigh.

“That’s overrated. Plus, she’s not wearing his ring. You are. She doesn’t compare to you.”

“She still breathes air.”

“Who cares? That shouldn’t matter when he knows the kind of person you are… how special you are.”

“I don’t want to be dead,” you whisper fearfully. “I never wanted to be dead. I wish I could be alive again. To feel the sun on my skin. To feel pain. Don’t get me wrong, I love everyone down here, but I can’t feel pain. Physical, that is. The pain I feel now… my heart hurts but it doesn’t beat, it’s breaking.”

Marcy puts a hand on your back and rubs it soothingly. She knows how long you’ve waited to find your Prince. You were a young girl in love just looking for someone to love you back. Is that too much to ask?

“What you just told me, it seems like the only redeeming feature about her is that she’s alive. You know that’s just temporary. Down here is forever. Down here is more than a lifetime.”

“I guess,” you sigh sadly.

“Y/N?” You and Marcy look up to see Spencer standing at the edge of the gazebo nervously. “Can I talk to you?”

“You’re about five seconds away from getting an ass-kicking,” Marcy growls and stands up.

“Marcy, it’s okay,” you calm her down. “I can handle this.”

“Just call if you need me.”

She walks off and Spencer takes her seat next to you.

“Listen, I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it.”

“I get it, Spencer. She has what I don’t. A beating heart.”

“That doesn’t… Look, it’s no secret you’re amazing. Even dead, you’re very beautiful. I don’t know how that other guy let you go so easily. I don’t know why bad things happen to good people. Just know that whatever our differences are, it’s not because you’re dead.”

“Do you mean that?” you ask and look up at him.

“Yes, I do.”

Spencer tucks your hair behind your ear delicately. This is the first romantic moment you two have had in weeks but it’s everything you could have wanted and more. Spencer notices someone walking in the distance and recognizes it as someone he knows.

“Excuse me.”

He gets up and leaves you alone on the gazebo bench. You’re not sure who this person is or what he is talking about, but Spencer leaves abruptly with an upset look on his face.

“Spencer?” you ask but he doesn’t look at you.

You get up to follow him but decide against it. He might need some time to himself, so you go searching for someone who might be able to help you. Marcy is in the bar where you first woke Spencer up, and she is playing a game of darts. When she sees you, she drops the darts and heads over to you.

“Is everything alright?”

“I don’t know.” You pull her off to the side so you can talk to her privately, an alley between the bar and the doctor’s office. “He apologized for what he said. We were having a moment but he saw someone he knew and went to talk to him. He walked off without another word. Are all men like this?”

“Sweetheart, be thankful you never had to deal with those kind of men. None of them are very bright.”

“Y/N, we need to talk.” You look to the right to see Elder Henry walking over with a book in his hand. “I’m afraid it can’t wait.”

“What’s going on?”

“There is a complication with your marriage. The vows are binding only until death do you part.”

“What are you saying?” you gasp fearfully.

“Death has already parted you.”

“No! If he finds out he’s gonna leave. There must be something you can do.”

Elder Henry puts the book on a trash can lid and flips a few pages.

“There is one way. It requires the greatest sacrifice. Spencer would have to give up the life he had forever. He would need to repeat his vows in the land of the living and drink from the wine of ages.”

“Poison!” you gasp.

“This would stop his heart forever. Only then would he be free to give it to you.”

Spencer is around the corner listening to the entire conversation. His eyes are wide in fear of what you’re going to say. He looks around the corner and sees you fall to your knees in sorrow.

“I could never ask him. What kind of person would I be if I took that away from him?”

Spencer really likes Maeve and could see a future with her, but he’s also torn with choosing you. All you wanted was for someone to love you unconditionally, and you will have that if he chooses you. He’s been spending all his time with you.

“You don’t have to,” Spencer says, making himself known. “I’ll do it.”

“My boy, if you choose this path, you may never return to the world above. Do you understand?”

Spencer holds his hand out for you and pulls you to your feet.

“I do.”

Looks like a wedding is happening. Everyone in the Underworld is excited that their own Corpse Bride is getting the moment she finally deserves. Spencer is kind of excited to be living down here after seeing so many people bond over being dead. Elder Henry works hard to create a spell that will transfer everyone down below to the world above. This will be the wedding of the century for both the living and the dead.

Because you’re going to the world above, you have to abide by their rules. The living weren't thrilled to have the dead roam the streets. In fact, they were mostly horrified to see skeletons walk down the street. Still, you and the others make your way down to the church for the ceremony. The pastor wasn’t too happy to have the dead knocking at his door, but you won’t allow him to spoil this evening.

Everyone settles into the pew as you and Spencer sand at the altar. Elder Henry walks behind the table and lays the book down with the bottle of poison. There is an empty cup next to Spencer while you have the whole bottle. Spencer has to admit that seeing your happy smile is bringing him joy.

This is it. This is what you’ve been waiting for since you were murdered.

“Dearly beloved and departed,” Elder Henry begins, “we are gathered here today to join this man and this corpse in marriage. Living first.”

Spencer turns to you and raises his right hand.

“With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” He grabs the empty cup and raises it. “Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.”

“Now you,” Elder Henry says to you.

“With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.” You grab the bottle of poison to pour into his cup. “Your cup will never empty.” You pour the poison into his cup. “For I will be--” As you’re pouring, you notice someone standing next to a pillar behind Spencer. You do a double-take to confirm it’s Maeve. She’s dressed in a wedding dress. She must have gotten married to someone else and didn’t want that, so she came here in hopes of seeing Spencer. “I will be…”

“Go on, my dear,” Elder Henry says.

You take a deep breath.

“Your cup will never empty… for I will be…”

“I will be your wine,” Spencer finishes for you.

He raises the cup of poison to his lips to drink, but you can’t let him do this. You quickly put your hand over the top so he doesn’t drink a drop.

“She’s having second thoughts,” someone whispers in the crowd.

“I can’t,” you say and look at Maeve again.

“What’s wrong?”

He goes to look at what you’re looking at but you put a hand on his cheek to stop him. Your heart hurts again but not for you. It’s for them. You had your chance. Now you’re taking someone else’s chance.

“This is wrong. I was a bride. My dreams were taken from me. Now I’ve stolen them from someone else.” Two tears roll down your cheeks. “I love you, Spencer, but you are not mine.”

You hold your hand out to Maeve who walks into the light. Spencer turns and gasps when he sees her. Everyone in the crowd gasps as she joins you on the altar. You grab her hand and place it in Spencer’s before letting go of him.

“Oh, how touching,” someone says from the church doors. Everyone turns their head to see who it is, and when you catch a glimpse, your face goes ghostly white. You take a step back in shock and put a hand on the table to prevent yourself from falling. “I always cry at weddings. Our young lovers together at last. Surely now, they can live happily ever after.” The man walks down the aisle closer to the altar. “But you forget,” he grabs Maeve’s arm and pulls her into him, “she’s still my wife! I will not leave here empty-handed!”

“You,” you gulp.

The man looks at you and his eyes widen.

“Y/N? No, I left you.”

“For dead,” you say quietly.

Everyone in the church gasps loudly at the realization that the man who stands before you is your murderer. He backs away with Maeve in his arms just as everyone stands in anger for what he did to you. There is a corpse with a sword hanging out of his body that Justin grabs. He places the sharp end over Maeve’s throat with a glare.

“Take your hands off her,” Spencer glares and walks toward them.

“Do I have to kill you, too?”

Justin shoves Maeve away and goes to swipe at Spencer but he jumps out of the way. Spencer is not equipped for hand-to-hand combat so he’s easily outdone by Justin, but you’re not going to let Justin take away something else from you. Spencer trips and falls, making him an easy target. Justin raises the sword to bring it down on him but you quickly step in the way so that the sword ends up in you.

Everyone gasps in shock and backs away but the sword does nothing to you. You grip the handle of the sword and take it out of you before pointing it at Justin.

“Touche, my dear,” Justin says.

“Get out,” you give him a deadly glare.

“Oh, I’m leaving,” he chuckles darkly and walks around you to the table with the cup of poison. Although, he doesn't know it’s poison. He grabs it and holds it in the air. “First, a toast to Y/N! Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Tell me, my dear, can a heart still break once it’s stopped beating?”

You want to cry. You want to scream and yell and kick but you’re not back home. All your friends get up to defend your honor but Elder Henry holds them back.

“We are in the land of the living. We have to abide by their rules.”

Justin raises the cup and drinks the entire glass. He walks away with his head held high but before he can get to the door, he chokes on nothing. He grabs his heart and staggers, and Elder Henry steps aside knowing that Justin is no longer part of the living.

“Not anymore,” Marcy smirks.

“She’s right. He’s all yours.”

All of your friends gather around the man who killed you to give him a taste of his own medicine. You turn to Spencer and Maeve who are overwhelmed by what happened.

“Spencer, I never thought I’d see you again,” Maeve smiles up at him.

You smile tearfully at the happy couple and turn to leave. You reach the doors to the church when Spencer stops you.

“Wait, I made a promise.”

“You kept your promise. You set me free.” You take off your wedding ring and place it in his open hand. “Now I can do the same for you.”

You turn and walk down the steps of the church only looking back once at Spencer. A white light encases your body as your soul is released to be whatever it wants to be. After years of being in pain, you’re finally able to take a deep breath in without it hurting.

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sungbeam · 1 month

Text

BIRD HUNT — three

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre, au, etc. bat family au, dc comics inspired, dark, vigilantes au, slow burn, ceo/billionaire au, cat woman!reader, murder mystery au, action, suspense, angst, slow burn-ish?, love square??; choi line inspired by dick grayson (csb), jason todd (cyj), and tim drake (cbg), including bruce wayne for choi minho and damian wayne for nishimura riki, inspired by 2022's The Batman

▷ chapter warnings. swearing, mentions of death and murder, mentions of weaponry, depictions of violence, use of pepper spray, breaking and entering

▷ word count. 4.4k // taglist: open

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FILE_03 : by the tail

gotham city.

[seven days since your mother was murdered.]

"Is she here?"

The voice was familiar to your sensitive ears, and although your eyes remained fixed on Mrs. Lee, you shifted your attention mentally to the two—no, three—wait… four?—figures making their way over to where you and Mrs. Lee stood in the home office space. Their footsteps were as quiet as heeled loafers could be against hollow wood floors. The Lees' home in the suburbs was a safe distance from the heart of Gotham, so the neighborhood was much nicer and much more like a home. The Lees had been ushered here after Lee Sungjae had been found murdered, and they'd resided here since.

You had been called in the day after the incident happened—that was the day after you had gone to see your father. We must work fast, Yn. They've already gotten to one of my… men. That was what he'd told you, and when he elaborated, you had discovered that every news channel now blasted footage of Lee Sungjae's dead, glassy eyes.

You had been busy since, trying to both grieve in peace and work at the same time.

"—take more time, Yn-ah. Losing a loved—" Mrs. Lee's voice cracked slightly and she covered her mouth.

"Mrs. Lee—"

She waved your hand away, angling her body away slightly so she could regain composure. "No, no. It's alright. I'm alright. I just… I know how it feels, and I think you deserve time to yourself, as well."

Of course you told her about your mother. You had to take another day off when one of your coworkers had noticed how spaced out you were when you came in. No, you didn't tell her your mother was murdered the same way her husband had. That was between you, your father, and the motherfucker who did this.

But for now, you were supposed to be here to answer the police's questions about your employer. You had been one of three of Mr. Lee's secretaries for the past several months now, having come under his employ about a year ago after Choi Enterprises turned you away. But magically, a few days afterward, this offer from the office of one Lee Sungjae had arrived in your inbox. When one door closed, as they said, another opened. Whatever guardian angel was looking over you then certainly wasn't looking over you now though.

"Miss Ln?"

You turned around and expected to see Commissioner Kim Namjoon and your co-secretary, Shin Ryujin, but you hadn't expected the two others with them. They stood behind the two aforementioned, both in black domino masks that covered the top halves of their faces. Their suits were skintight, most likely to allow for more mobility, but they also accentuated their starkly muscular figures. The taller one wore a suit of dark blue and black, while the other donned a maroon red and black ensemble. You recognized them, respectively, as Gotham's very own Nightwing and the Red Robin. Vigilantes. What were they doing with Commissioner Kim?

Ryujin bowed her way out, gently taking Mrs. Lee with her. That left you with the others.

"Hello, Miss Ln," Commissioner Kim greeted with a tired, but not unkind, smile. He fished a small notepad out of his coat pocket, ballpoint pen clicking to life. "My name is Commissioner Kim. These two… not sure if you need any introductions."

When you remained silent with only a nod, he continued, "We're here investigating the murder of your former employer, and we were informed that you often handled his familial affairs. We've already spoken with Miss Shin and Mr. Yun, but we wanted to ask where you were last Wednesday night at ten o'clock."

You were very aware that Nightwing had decided to wander about the office, eyes taking in the shelves and the notes and the desk… then there was Red Robin, who's attention was pinned intently on you, arms crossed firmly over his chest. There was something awfully familiar about these two. "Is that an accusation, Commissioner?" You asked, leaning against the edge of the desk.

"It doesn't have to be," he said airily. "Just answer the question, Miss."

"I was at home," you answered, schooling your face into neutrality. "You can ask my employer's wife and my coworkers—I was taking time off to grieve my mother's death."

The shock was not the most stark on the commissioner's face, but on Red Robin's. "She's dead?—" He coughed; even Nightwing had paused his movements. "I mean, I'm sorry for your loss." You didn't recognize the voice, but you suspected it was probably being disguised with a voice modulator.

The commissioner sent him a bewildered look, but turned back to you. "I'm very sorry for your loss, Yn. Truly." He asked with almost a grimace, "Can anyone corroborate your whereabouts? I understand you were most likely home alone, but perhaps a neighbor, a significant other…?"

And there it was again—that shift in energy as both the vigilantes in the room stopped to focus on you.

You shook your head with a tight smile. It probably wouldn't bode well if you revealed to them who your father was or that you paid the Iceberg Lounge a visit that day. You were also a little too preoccupied with survival to have a significant other, and you hadn’t been close enough to a neighbor in years. "No. Just my cats."

There was something so familiar about this Red Robin character, but you couldn't put a finger on it. Or maybe it was the way he was staring at you with such pity (and sympathy) that made you wish he was someone else. Either way, you needed to know why these two vigilantes were put on the case, and what they might have already found out. At the moment, it didn't seem like it would pose a problem, but you thought it wouldn't hurt to be a little more careful.

When you arrived home that night, bones aching as much as your head pulsed, you collapsed on the couch. A few of your cats began to swarm your legs, soft fur tickling the skin exposed when your pant leg lifted. Blue, a very introverted Russian Blue who you managed to make an extrovert when it came to you, plopped himself onto your lap like a warm, vibrating mass. You ran your fingers through his fur to the symphony of someone's purrs (you figured it was Byeol; he was quite vocal).

"Should I invite him to the funeral?" You murmured to Blue in question.

He stared back at you, then silently turned his gaze to a particle of dust floating in the air.

You exhaled back against the couch cushions. "I'll take that as a yes."

In the dead of night—because there was always a dead of night, even for Gotham City—you pulled a dark beanie over your head and the top half of your face. Two holes had been cut and sewn for your eyes to see through, and at the top of the hat, two little triangles sat akin to ears. You recalled the night you had crocheted this on a whim, your mother having done most of the work.

"Blue wants it to have cat ears, mama," you'd told her just as she brought out her tub of yarns.

Your mother's eyes glittered. "Is that right? Well, we'll have to add cat ears then, won't we?"

You thought it would be fitting to find her killer in this. You thought it fit you quite well, at least.

The rest of you was dressed in black, and your hand grazed over Soul's fluffy, white head as you propped open the second floor window. "I'll be home soon," you whispered to the last of your family, then disappeared into the night.

"I can't get why this is so familiar to me," Beomgyu voiced into the echoes of the Batcave, hands braced against the main monitor as he stared at the copy of the note: A Debt Repaid. He had been staring at it for the past week, not consecutively, but it hadn't left the forefront of his mind. Like you.

Soobin trudged over to his brother with a bowl of cereal cradled in his large palm, the other hand spooning the sweet milk and wheat flakes into his mouth. "Mm. Maybe give it a rest for a little, Beom."

"And do what?"

"How do you know Ln Yn?"

Beomgyu whirled around just as Soobin settled into the desk chair, waiting. Beomgyu made a scoffing noise, eyebrows flying up to his shaggy bangs. "Where did that come from?"

Soobin smiled and shrugged. "You tell me." He slurped up a bit more milk before adding, "You're the one who reacted like that in front of everyone when she said she was grieving her mother's death. You sounded shocked that she died."

"Well yeah, wouldn't you be shocked to hear someone else died so close to another's death?"

"Stop trying to bullshit him, Gyu."

Both the brothers looked up at the voice who had just entered the underground space. Yeonjun strolled into the main area in a white tank top and sweats, hair sticking up in different places. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned loud and wide.

Soobin cocked a brow at him. "Nice of you to finally join us, hyung. How'd the date go?"

"Great," Yeonjun quipped. "We're going on a second one soon. I think Felix almost sent me off with a kiss goodnight." He slumped onto the edge of the desk, eyes lazily taking in the images and information displayed on the many monitor screens. "This is our stiff, huh?"

Soobin sent him a look that distinctly said 'No, we're just looking at dead bodies for fun.'

"Yeah," Beomgyu replied. "The note the killer left is so familiar to me though. Have you seen it before?" He knocked his knuckles against the monitor with the note.

Yeonjun's eyes narrowed on the screen, before he leaned back with that bored look renewed on his face. "You're both idiots. It's from that one killing a couple weeks ago."

Beomgyu and Soobin traded looks. "What?"

Their eldest brother leaned down to reach the lowest drawer at the desk. From its depths, he fished out a large bag of chips and grabbed a handful to stuff his face with. "Y'know," he garbled and gestured vaguely with his crumb-dusted fingers. "Beomgyu, you know! You were there with me. It was that one lawyer guy who was found dead in his car beneath the bridge. That same note was taped to his windshield."

"Oh yeah," Beomgyu drawled, while Soobin shook his head with a sigh. The former then knocked his foot against the latter's shin. "Aye! You didn't even know it."

"Yeah, because I wasn't on that case," Soobin fired back. He finished off the rest of his bowl of cereal and set the empty ceramic in his lap before crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes, like his brothers' were lined beneath with heavy eye bags. Someone was supposed to be on patrol around the city right now, but neither of the three brothers were in any rush to get up. "So it's just one person going after these people then."

Yeonjun chewed his bottom lip. "Then we just gotta find the connection."

"Was the lawyer guy from a couple weeks ago Lee Sungjae's attorney?" Soobin asked.

Beomgyu grabbed a hold of the wireless keyboard on the desk and braced it upon his thighs. He pulled up an internet browser and typed in their inquiry. All three brothers made noises of disgruntlement; if the lawyer hadn't been Sungjae's attorney, then how were they connected? It was no secret that 99.9 percent of the population here in Gotham had some sort of… shadow looming over their shoulder. It was almost impossible to get anywhere without the help of a corrupt figure, whether that be a mob boss like the Penguin or loan shark with special strategies to get someone to pay up.

Either way, there would be lots of digging required.

"Let's start with Lee Sungjae and the lawyer's records,'' Soobin decided as he sat up in the chair. "We'll sort through phone records, acquire security footage of their movements, their texts, etcetera."

"I call none of those," Yeonjun said. When his younger brothers scowled at him, he raised both hands in feigned surrender with a giggle. "Fine, fine. You're both lookin' at me like I murdered your favorite puppy."

They remained silent.

"What, too soon?"

The basement headquarters suddenly erupted in a dull siren sound, and Beomgyu was swift to pull up a set of footage on one of the monitors. It displayed a section of the sky, a white spotlight circle cast against a massive, dark gray cumulus cloud with a distinct bat shape in the center—their call to action.

All three men were on their feet in an instant—keyboard and cereal bowl abandoned on the table, capes and utility belts clicked into place.

"Meet you losers there!" Yeonjun hollered as the cave filled with the revving roar of his motorcycle engine like a clap of thunder.

Soobin and Beomgyu hurried over to their respective cycles. "Hey, we're not done talking about Ln Yn!" Soobin called to his younger brother.

Beomgyu flashed him a thin smile. "That's what you think!" And he sped away down the runway.

Soobin chuckled to himself, grinning. Then he revved his engine and launched himself after his brothers.

To be completely honest, you had no idea what you were doing. Actually, that was a lie. You kind of knew what you were doing, but that was leagues away from completely knowing what you were doing until it was muscle memory. Right now though, as you gripped onto the side of the building, fingertips digging into the concrete ledge like a lifeline (because it might as well had been one), you couldn't wait until it became muscle memory.

God, your arms were going to ache tomorrow morning.

"It's worth it, Yn," you muttered to yourself, under your breath, and that was what made you reach up one more time and grasp onto the ledge of the window sill. You had always wondered why buildings like this lacked security cameras, but based on its practically smooth facade, it was no wonder. Only a crazy person would dare scale something like this.

The law firm building was not one of the largest nor one of the dingiest. If it had been some place like Clark & Field, you would have considered other ways to get into the building, but it would probably be through the inside (because scaling a fifty story skyscraper without a net was not on your bucket list). And if the building had been on the dingier side, it would have, frankly, been much easier to find footholds and places to brace. Except for any mold or crumbly parts. That was not fun either.

Or maybe you could classify scaling buildings as just… not fun in general. But the skills and the strength would come with time.

This time, however, was fueled by pure willpower.

But the universe was on your side for once, and the window you clung to gave way and granted you entry. The stupid lock picks had actually worked.

Despite being dead for two weeks, Yang Eunhyuk’s office still looked like its owner was still alive. There were documents left out in the open, all of the furniture had yet to be touched, there was an old (upon further investigation, really old) cup of coffee on the desk, and a two-week-old calendar for the week’s appointments and cases. You peered at the calendar and skimmed its contents, but found nothing terribly noteworthy. You strolled by the bookcase, footsteps light as a cat’s, and glimpsed the titles. There were a lot of convoluted-sounding titles on the shelves, and honestly, you doubted that he even read half of the books there. They were probably just for show when clients came in.

After you had given yourself a tour of the space, you determined that no one had truly cared enough about this man to really clean up for him. The door out into the hallway was locked, and through its frosted glass door, you could make out the distinct yellow police tape crossed over the frame. This was no crime scene, but the police had still had the room locked down… odd.

You figured they didn’t care enough. But maybe this guy had more connections than you were giving him credit for. He had been one of your father’s clients, after all. (Actually, that wasn’t enough to determine whether or not Yang was smart or not. Resorting to your father’s ever-generous solutions was stupid; and you were very well-aware that that made you stupid, too.)

Your father had sent you to this office for something in particular.

“Yang Eunhyuk was an idiot and a half,” your father had told you the day you had come to him. “But he knows how to hide his things when he needs to.” He had carefully relayed all of the necessary information to you as the two of you sat on the couch together to outline your next steps and what exactly he was asking of you. “He owes me a compilation of files and a burner phone.”

When you’d asked what for, there was that gleam in his eyes as if he found the question amusing. “Well, to find out who betrayed us, of course.”

“To find who killed Mom?”

He had nodded at you—waved his hand flippantly. “Yes. That’s the same thing, Yn.”

A burner phone and a compilation of files. Your father had already searched Yang’s personal place of residence, but there had apparently been nothing but “shit." So here you were… sorting through more shit.

You drummed the pads of your fingers on the surface of the desk.

“Where would he hide you, hm?” You murmured to yourself. You tried all of the drawers under the desk—four of the seven came up locked. The top three drawers were all filled with a smorgasbord of knick knacks and junk like a fidget spinner, fidget cube, a package of cigarettes, and even a used gum wrapper. (Gross.) You slipped a lock pick out from your sleeve as you considered the remaining four locked drawers, then realized that Yang Eunhyuk might not have kept your father’s files in the same place as his regular, ol’ case files.

And so, you moved away from the desk.

You figured there were specific places a lawyer would keep their most sensitive files to ensure discretion and privacy. You recalled how your late employer, Lee Sungjae, often had his most precious files stashed away in a place that was so obvious that no one would ever assume any person in the right mind would hide such things. For Sungjae, it had been a picture frame on the wall of his office, the one with him and his entire family pictured. It was cute; but when one peered behind it…

There was only one picture frame in the entire office space. It was small and it housed his law degree. You wondered if it was phony.

You decided to give it a chance and reached for it with a gloved hand.

When you took the frame off the wall, a frown slipped onto your face at the solid wall behind it. Huh. It was worth a—

You stepped backward and inhaled sharply when your leg hit the back of his cheap office chair. You managed to right yourself, but your ears had also perked up at a curious sound. You swiftly replaced the frame on the wall and knelt down by the desk chair and twisted your body to peer beneath it.

The sound you had heard had been a soft swish. It was subtle and not at all loud, but thanks to the empty office and your own hearing, you had picked up on it. It was practically a miracle.

Your heart pounded in excitement as you stuck your hand beneath the chair and felt up the bottom. There—you felt a distinct, padded folder—and there—

Your fingers wrapped around a small device no bigger than the palm of your hand. It must have been attached to the bottom of the chair with some kind of tape, and you gave it a good yank. And behold… in your hand was the alleged burner phone, staring up at you, just begging for you to sneak a peek into its logs. But before you could, you removed the file that had been hidden beneath the chair as well. It was a standard manila folder stuffed to the brim with papers and, you assumed, lots of sensitive information. Your eyes were widening like your smile as you just struck gold.

Not too bad for your first time in a while.

You startled at the sound of a thump.

There was a figure, a shadow, standing on the window sill by the end of the desk. He was familiar to you with his dark hair and domino mask, and his red and black uniform. His cape flowed from just off the precipices of his shoulders and hung around the backs of his knees—imposing and regal but not in the way of any movements he made. The Red Robin had stood before you just earlier in the day at Lee Sungjae’s suburban home. He had been the one with the familiar presence to you, along with his… colleague? You didn’t know his and Nightwing’s association or relationship, but you weren’t about to interact long enough to find out.

“Breaking and entering is illegal, y’know,” the masked vigilante mused, and you could just make out the shadow of his smirk in the darkness. “Even at crime scenes.”

You rose from your spot on the floor, slipping the burner into the holster pocket on the garter around your thigh and tucking the file in the crook of your arm. There wasn’t really a place you could hide the chunky piece of shit. Despite your heart palpitating in your chest, you maintained a cool exterior. He didn’t know who you were, and you expected that he wouldn’t be able to recognize your voice since you had only spoken to him once.

“Nothing done in Gotham is illegal,” you replied to him.

His head cocked to the side, arms folding over his chest. “You’re not wrong about that. But…” He nodded at the file folder. “I really can’t let you leave with that.”

Oh, dear god. You needed an escape plan—and fast.

Nothing was coming to mind; it was just get out get out get out! (Very helpful, as always.)

“I’m sure you can make an exception for me,” you said with a mocking pout. “How’d you even know I was here? I didn’t realize Yang Eunhyuk had a connection to Gotham’s exclusive Bat Boys.”

A scoff from him. “He doesn’t. Your luck just happened to be running out, sweetheart.” He stepped off the window sill and entered the office, stalking toward you with slow, methodical steps because he knew you were cornered. You really should have tried that office door when you had the chance.

As you began backing away, you shook his head and tsked. “C’mon,” he coaxed. “Give me the folder.”

“And I can go?” You wondered how fast you could disappear once you flung yourself out of that window.

He smiled. “If you give me that burner, too, sure.”

Your heart stopped for a millisecond. God damn it.

He must have seen the doubt in your eyes, and that fucking smile of his widened. Something about that was tug-tug-tugging a nerve. He stopped walking toward you as you slowly made a move to set the file down on the floor. “Good girl.”

The file flopped onto the wooden floor.

"Slowly," he drawled, eyes glued to your form as he watched your hand move toward the holster pouch.

All the while, you were counting down in your head.

Before he could blink, you swung a leg out and kicked the file back behind Red Robin and toward the window. His head swerved in that direction, and you launched yourself at him before he could realize his mistake.

You kicked at him, one-two, adrenaline pumping through your veins like a virus. He blocked your blows, just as you swung around and made a grab for his mask.

He caught your wrist; you whirled—it was a high stakes tango you had not been prepared for. But you jabbed your elbow behind you, fist flying up toward his nose. Every move you made was desperate and offensive.

You slipped free and ducked, body curling under his arm, under his cape, until you ended up in the flurry of the dark fabric.

The vigilante knew his own cape though. You gave him that much.

He grabbed the opposite end and arced it over your head, arm coming down to wrap you in it—but you threw yourself out of it, landing a swift blow to his shin. Wouldn't do much except make him curse and loosen his grip slightly.

The file was in sight—oh god, it was right the fuck there.

You made a mad dash for it, leaning down slightly and reaching out with your hand—

"Not so fast, kitty—"

You hit the floor with a curse, palms flat against the wood. His foot had hooked around yours and tripped you, his knee set against your back like his own palm as he held you against the floor.

You felt his breath by your ear. "What's in the file, sweetheart?"

"None of your concern," you gritted out, then throwing your head back until you heard and felt that telltale "fuck!" from Red Robin.

You ignored the throbbing in the back of your skull to fling yourself around and throw off his balance again. Your hand dove into your holster pocket to retrieve the small cylinder of mace, then sprayed it in a final move of desperation, breath and chest heaving.

The man sputtered, hand flying up to his mouth as he stumbled backward and tried to eject the chemical from his body. "Dirty fucking move," he spat as you turned tail and made for the file.

Only—

"Looking for this?"

Two others had joined the party, to your absolute horror. Nightwing stood with the file in his hand, while Red Hood—the vigilante from the bank, and supposedly Choi Yeonjun based on your deductions—was perched up on the window sill with zero care in the world.

Well shit.

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#txt x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #choi soobin x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt oneshots #txt series #txt imagines #txt drabbles #txt scenarios #yeonjun oneshot #soobin oneshot #beomgyu oneshot #yeonjun imagines #soobin imagines #beomgyu imagines

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helloliriels · 2 years

Text

'2022 YEAR OF THE CRACK FIC' CHALLENGE IS ON!

Are you writing a Crack Fic to enter in this years' Challenge? Any questions? Let me know! What is Crack? - If you wouldn't normally write it - too silly, too over the top, too out of your box? Write it! Toss it in the ring! THis is YoUr ChaNce To ThRoW OuT thE RuLeS! Do eet. Thank me later. Bahaha! (and maybe win some art in return?!)

🍬 Do Not Microwave Him! by FawnHickory - Part 1 of Skittles series!

🍫 Skittles by FawnHickory - Part 2 of the Skittles series!

🍭 Dinner Jackets & Deception by trillian_jdc- Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade are spies, sent to gather information from a target through seduction if necessary, but they find each other a bit of a distraction.

🍬 In Another Life by RiTheBiGuy_TileyTMR- My submission for the year of the crack fic challenge so enjoy. Also this just gets so ridiculous so yeah I have no idea how to prepare you all for that …

🍫 Love Potion No.9 by helloliriels - Sherlock pretends to be under the spell of a love potion to hit on John and see how he takes it? In which, Sherlock Holmes is a shy genius. And Mike & Molly are good wingmen.

🍭 Did You Steal My Penis? by FawnHickory- John is trying to have a nice cup of tea when Sherlock has a small crisis.

🍬 Love At First Bite by Fluffbyday_Smutbynight - “It’ll be fun,” Mike had said. Recently discharged John Watson has an… interesting night out.

🍫 Snow Angels, Baker Street Style by FawnHickory - John discovers a hole in Greg’s life experiences and remedies it rather creatively.

🍭 Vegetables by FawnHickory - Sherlock is accidentally exposed to a hallucinogenic substance. The comparisons his mind makes are interesting.

🍬 Sherlock Needs a Doctor … For His Writing by trillian_jdc - Sherlock tries writing up some of his own cases, but he needs some medical advice. Perhaps Mycroft knows a candidate?

🍫 Birdie Sitting! by FawnHickory - Part 3 of the Skittles series!

🍭 Zing and You’ll Miss It! by Raina_at - Every year, the monster community meets at Halloween for a big party. Sherlock is bored out of his mind as usual, when suddenly a handsome human stumbles into the monster party.

🍬 Do Not Download the Souls! by helloliriels - Sherlock ‘on-the-side-of-the-angels’ Holmes was not supposed to be a detective … John Hamish Watson was not supposed to be dead … We all have bad days. (WIP)

🍫 So You’re Like Me by Yuliares - The sun is going down, and John Watson is standing in front of a looming mansion with a delivery for one Sherlock Holmes. aka “Homosexula” Twitter crack

🍭 CPR by MutedSilence - Sherlock sings CPR by CupcakKe when he’s alone. What can he say, it’s catchy.

🍬 It Happens For Good by hey_there_buddy - “John, have you-” John stared at Sherlock, his blue eyes boring into the detective’s calculating one, waiting for Sherlock to finish the sentence. Which Sherlock never finished.

🍫 No matter the chase, it’s you by my side by Yuliares - “Jesus Christ!” yells John, nearly spilling his hot mug of tea over his lap. He glares as Sherlock bursts into the room. “What is it now?”

“It’s Valentine’s day,” hisses Sherlock, stabbing the mantlepiece, face scrunched up in disdain.

🍭 A Tooth For A Traumatic Experience by MutedSilence - Sherlock loses a tooth and learns about the tooth fairy.

🍬 Speak Now! by Raina_at - Now is not the time to say something ... Last chance. Make up your mind, Holmes!

🍫 I Will Go Down With This Ship! by helloliriels - Their ship was sinking. John & Sherlock hold each other. (yes, I rewatched Titanic)

🍭 Duet by PlantsAreNeat - Intimacy can be measured by how comfortable one feels with another person, even at moments when perhaps, one should feel embarrassed.

🍬 Why Are You Hiding In The Dark? by FawnHickory - Fill for a Tumblr prompt! Dialogue prompt “…Why are you hiding in the dark?”

🍫 Mrs. Hudson’s Crack Brew! by ChrisCalledMeSweetie Mrs. Hudson is beginning to regret the part she played in bringing Sherlock and John together. Not to put too fine a point on it, those boys are LOUD. Can she find a way to make things better? Or will she only make them worse? It all depends on your perspective…

🍭 Sherly Boner and Jammy Hotson Investigate the Threatened Queens by MutedSilence. Sherlock never expected John Watson to be a great Drag Queen. He will have John in his bed by the end of the night - consensually of course.

🍬 I Love Lamp by helloliriels. It was a ridiculous whim … buying the lamp. And Sherlock just might lose his mind, trying to unlock it’s secrets …

🍫 Uncover My (S)mouldering Heart by Asterisko. The mould in 221C might not be what it seems.

🍭 Human Urges by topsyturvy_turtely. John hated it. He utterly and truly hated it. He despised himself for it. It was going on his nerves. In fact it annoyed the fucking SHIT out of him. That stupid, always present, torturing urge to be kissed!

🍬 Sherlock’s Secret Laboratory Journal by meet_me_in_samarra. What does a helplessly pining but absolutely clueless Sherlock do in order to woo an oblivious John? He turns to the internet for advice on the art of seduction and notes the experiments in his secret laboratory journal …

Have a Crack Fic to add to the Challenge?? Post it on AO3 and add it to ‘2022_Crack_Fix’ collection, or tag @helloliriels with ‘#2022 year of the crack fic’ on Tumblr!

@johnlocky @ohlooktheresabee @chinike @rhasima @myriath @fawnhickory @john-smiths-jawline @gaylilsherlock @chriscalledmesweetie @topsyturvy-turtely @justanobsessedpan @bluebellofbakerstreet @inevitably-johnlocked @meetinginsamarra @musingsofmyown @janetm74 @sgam76 @mutedsilence @summerfly-lesbian @impalaparkedat221b @raina-at @khorazir @kettykika78 @kaursblog11 @luciengenic @safedistancefrombeingsmart @masterofhounds @whatnext2020 @loki-lock @detafo @lavenderandvanilla @johannadc @jilldarbc @dinner--starving @therealsaintscully @calaisreno @purplevatican @arwamachine @discordantwords @simplyclockwork @totallysilvergirl @blogstandbygo @writingloud

#2022 year of the crack fic #helloliriels #masterlist #johnlock #mystrade #sherlock #crack fics #2022 crack fix #collection on Ao3

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lovetohate001 · 2 years

Note

Can. I please have Vecna smut?🙏🙏😩

The Clock Strikes Midnight

Vecna x Reader | R-Rated for sexual content and horror themes

Word count: 1.08K

You saw him in your dreams sometimes. He’d come to you in the dead of night and whisper in your ear. Sweet nothings. Promises. And your room would be cold when you woke up. The window would be open just a crack, leaving your curtains to flutter in the autumn breeze. It was strange.

And tonight was no different. You were surely still dreaming. You could feel his hands on your waist. You couldn’t move. You didn’t really want to. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. You knew you were special to him. You weren’t like the others.

“You’re truly something, aren’t you, angel?” he murmured into your ear, sweetly, as he traced a finger over your collarbone.

You gasped when his fingers grazed over your nipples. His flat palms ran over your stomach, to the sides of your ribcage. Light and teasing touches. Until a hand cupped your heat and pressed down enough to send a small jolt of electricity through you.

“Such a weak and sensitive thing, to be so willing and offering herself to me in such a … crude manner.”

You arched your back on the bed as you felt phantom fingers brush over your clit. Teasing circles. And gentle pushes. It was too much. And you couldn’t do a thing about it. You tried to push your hips up, seeking more friction. A force pushed you down again, keeping you still.

“Tell me what you want. All you need to do is ask. Is that so hard to do?”

You shook your head and sighed shakily.

“What do you want, angel?”

“I…I want your fingers…inside of me,” you finally got out, humiliation burning bright on your cheeks.

“Good girl,” he crooned.

You almost cried in relief, feeling his fingers inside you, crooking just perfectly into that spot. You clung to your sheets, biting down on your bottom lip, trying to stay as quiet as you could while he touched you. His fingers were so so cold. And yet they made you feel as if you were on fire.

His pace was constant, and unforgiving in nature. And slowly, after what felt like hours, you were left on your bed, asleep, oblivious to the happenings when the clock had struck midnight.

"So, you’ve finally started to notice me, haven’t you darling?"

Your heart leapt into your chest as you started awake. There it was. His voice again. And the headaches…Your lips felt wet. With the brush of your fingertips, you realized you had a nosebleed. You never got nosebleeds…

"Aren’t feeling that bright today, I see. I can fix that…"

You whirled around, your eyes dancing over your dark room. There was no one here. And yet you could still hear him. This had been happening for weeks, and you still couldn’t figure it out.

“Who are you?” you whispered into the darkness; your voice shaky.

A laugh echoed in your head. For a moment he sounded more boyish than terrifying.

"I can show you. But you have to promise to not be scared, alright? Can you do that for me?"

You swallowed thickly and replied with a weak, “Alright.”

No one appeared for quite a while. You thought this man would be a ghost of sorts. But instead, the faint sound of tick tock ticking filled your ears.

The key clicked roughly in your bedroom door, locking you in. The ticking stopped.

"Behind you, sweetheart."

You jumped, his breath on your neck as he spoke. You scrambled to the edge of your bed, blankets tanged at your ankles. A man was now sat on the other end of your bed, hugging one of your pillows to his chest, a smile on his face. He looked…amused?

“Who are you?” you asked again. “Are you some sort of freak?”

“Freak?” he frowned, those blue eyes of his darkening at the insult. “No. I’m not a freak.”

“Are you a ghost then?”

He chuckled at that, putting your pillow back down. “For one,” he said, moving a bit closer to you, “I am not an apparition of any sort.”

At your disbelieving look, he inched towards you, a hand outstretched. “There. Touch my hand, if you are so doubtful.”

You hesitated, but eventually brushed your fingers over the back of his hand. You quickly drew back. He was cold. Freezing.

“See? I’m not that scary, am I?” He sighed and reached his hand out to your face, lightly grazing your bottom lip.

It came away scarlet. He lifted his hand up into the moonlight, taking a closer look before murmuring, “I didn’t mean to hurt you like this, you know. The headaches have stopped now, haven’t they?”

“They have,” you answered, eyes never leaving him.

You had to get out. Get as far away from him as you could. Call the cops. Anything. if you could just-

“You can’t get away from me, you know. No matter where you go, I will eventually find you again,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you. “And I promise you, no none wants to be hunted down by a man like me, angel.”

“I know you think I’m harmless,” he carried on. “Especially looking like this…but I can assure you I am far from pretty.” His voice wasn’t the same now. It was low and reminded you of tyres moving over a gravel road.

His eyes hadn’t changed at all. They were still blue. But the rest of him…your breath caught in your throat. He was a monster. As he got up to stand in front of you at the foot of the bed, you fought the urge to gag at the sound of his movements. It was as if his bones broke with every movement he made. And his skin was mauled and scarred beyond recognition.

What…what had happened to this man? Who had done this to him?He took a hold of your chin, his hand scratching your skin, and lifted your face to meet his gaze.

“Now that you know what I look like, keep that pretty mouth of yours shut, darling. No one needs to know…not until it’s time.”

“Time for what?” you choked out, tears welling in your eyes.

He was going to kill you. You could feel it. With the way he was looking at you.

But then he was gone. And all he left behind was the scratch on your jaw, where his hand had been. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. You didn’t have much time left.

MASTERLIST

SEND AN ASK/ FIC REQUEST HERE!

#001 x reader #peter ballard x reader #stranger things #001 stranger things #peter ballard #peter ballard smut #peter ballard stranger things #stranger things 001 #stranger things imagine #stranger things season 4 #st vecna #vecna's curse #vecna x reader #vecna stranger things #001 imagine #001 x oc #peter ballard fanfic #stranger things x reader #peter ballard imagine

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just-a-torn-up-masterpiece · 2 years

Text

dry your eyes

kinktober 2022 masterlist | monstober 2022 masterlist

ceo!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

18+ : dacryphilia, dom!wanda, mean wanda, oral(wanda receiving)

You rubbed your bleary eyes with the back of your hand with an achy stretch of your muscles, blinking to focus your eyes on the time in the corner of your computer screen. It was almost midnight and you were close to tears at your office desk, an empty mug you’d refilled with coffee all day and a desk of messy piles of paper and stray pens.

You can barely remember the last time you’d made it home before 11pm, a time where you’d sleep soundly in your bed before waking up refreshed at the sound of your early alarm. But Wanda was set on making your life hell apparently.

If she wasn’t using you to get herself off, she was picking faults with every piece of work you completed for her; making you redo things time and time again, keeping you late at the office, just completely burning you out until your eyes stung with exhaustion and all you’re running on is a caffeine fix from crappy coffee.

“Y/N come in here. Bring me those files.” She shouted through the cracked open door of her office.

“I should really fucking quit.” You whispered to yourself before shuffling your way to her office on tired limbs. No matter how badly Wanda treated you, you couldn’t deny how attractive you find her, especially behind a big desk oozing superiority as she looks at you.

She snatched the files from your grasp with an outstretched hand, reading through them with her legs propped up on the large mahogany desk, black stilettos on her feet and a tight skirt riding up her long legs.

“Your handwriting is so messy - this is full of errors.” She sighed with a shake of her head. “Are you too fucking stupid to just do it right?” You were too exhausted to argue and your face heated up with tears trying to spill, you tried to blink them away as best you could. “Are you?”

“No.” You shook your head with your eyes looking everywhere but in her direction, glancing up at the ceiling to fight back the tears. But your body was tired and your lip trembled, the lump in your throat was painful and you couldn’t hide the way you sniffled.

“Come here.” She uttered and you followed her command, kneeling in front of her when she told you to with a firm look. “I only want you to be as best as you can be for my company, you little cry baby.” She teased, cupping your jaw with her hand and wiping her thumb over your wet cheeks as tears constantly flowed.

“I’m sorry. I’ll do better.” You choked out, leaning into her touch despite common sense telling you not to.

“Mm, you look so pretty when you cry sweetheart.” She cooed, just admiring your teary face beneath her, pushing her thumb past your lips as you cried. “C’mon, come and make me feel good and I’ll let you take tomorrow off.” She spoke, letting go of your face to nudge her skirt up her legs.

You shuffled towards her with a lick of your lips at the sight of her, no underwear covering her soaked cunt as she hooked her leg over your shoulder, digging her heel into your back to bring you closer.

Your arms looped around her thighs and you ghosted your lips over them in a path of kisses leading upwards until they latched onto her clit with a suck, tongue swiping through her folds with her sweet tang down your throat. She held your head firmly in place with a buck of her hips in search of her release and a breathy moan at the way your tongue flicked over her bud.

Your fingers pushed into her pussy easily with how wet she was, curling in a way that made a moan fall from her lips into the otherwise silent room; you could just hear the sound of her wetness and the murmurings she let out above you.

“Fuck, I wish you were as good at your job as you are at this.” She breathed and you were glad she couldn’t see the way you rolled your eyes at her. Not too long later she was cumming on your tongue, clenching around your soaked fingers with heavy breaths of pleasure whilst you pulled away with wet lips.

In a rare act of intimacy she pressed her lips to yours with a hum at her own taste, a hand on the back of your neck and her tongue pushing against yours.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She murmured against you when she pulled away and your brows furrowed.

“I thought - you said I could take tomorrow off -”

“You can but I’m coming over.” She insisted, it was a confusing thing to hear - she’s inviting herself to your home for dinner and wine and you don’t want to say no.

“Um, okay.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda maximov #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda mcu

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pumpkinickel · 4 months

Text

A Mix-Up || Egon Spengler x reader

Summary: Gender-neutral reader mistakes Elon as Egon (they really do look alike from the back!)

Relationship: Egon Spengler x gn!reader (established relationship)

Word Count: 669

Warnings: Not beta-read, but other than that none! This is just fluffy slice of life

Author's Note: This is actually a little old (early 2022). I'm currently writing for a different piece of media BUT I thought "hey, why not post this now because...why not!" I've always been kinda shy to post my writing on the internet in general but to hell with it tbh ! Cringe culture must die and I love my blorbos past, present, and future too much lol

On AO3

It was a regular, snowy day in downtown New York. Ray was in the downstairs of the firehouse, fixing whatever new problem the Ecto-1 had come up with. Janine was reading some magazine with smart shopping tips while Louis was on the phone discussing taxes, the latter having piles of paperwork on his desk. Business during the holiday season usually slowed down, and that meant getting to spend more quality time with the guys. Peter and Winston were engaging in a friendly but competitive game of pool, and Egon was nowhere in sight. He mentioned something about “bringing a surprise” to the station, baffling everyone since Egon certainly wasn’t the surprise type. You sat on the couch, head propped up by your hand, watching as Peter lined up his shot.

"I never understood this game," you said with a yawn.

Winston had a small laugh and shook his head. "It's alright, kid, neither does Pete."

"Hey!" The other man said as he thrust his cue stick, completely butchering the shot in the process. "I just don't play this game often enough, alright, Z? I got no practice,"

You and Winston share a laugh at the expense of your colleague, Peter placed his hand on his chest in feigned offense. Winston took his shot, clearly doing a better job than Peter as the other man had scowled as the ball went into the hole. As the two continue playing, the sound of familiar footsteps enters the second floor. Turning your head, you smile brightly as you finally see your boyfriend Egon. His back was turned, preoccupied with refilling the snack cabinet in the kitchen. As he rummaged through the seven eleven bag, you took the chance of slowly sneaking up behind him to give a surprise hug. The two men playing pool had paused their game to watch you, amused from the sight of seeing you crouch up behind their friend.

“Gotcha!” You yelled as you wrapped your arms around Egon’s torso and chest, placing your chin on his shoulder. Unexpectedly, he was completely frozen, unlike how he would usually turn around to return the hug. Your expression quickly morphed into one of confusion as the seconds passed and he stayed completely still.

“Anyway, Elon, I want you to meet-” You whip your head to the left to see Egon standing next to Ray, both the men having mildly concerned looks on their faces.

“...(Y/N)?” The man you were hugging spoke, his voice only slightly different from Egon’s but you could tell it wasn’t your boyfriend. Hastily taking your arms off him, you spew out apology after apology, face fully red.

“I’m so sorry! God I- I should’ve known the second you didn’t hug me back I-”

Elon waved his hand with a laugh, the other guys in the room except Egon cracking up as well. “No matter, no matter, at least I know my little brother is well loved,” Elon took the liberty of pulling you in for a hug this time, and just like Egon he was surprisingly good at giving them.

Egon’s cheeks turn a light pink color from his brother’s statement as he pulls you in for a hug and forehead kiss. Elon had headed over to the billiard table to greet the two men who ended their pool game. The mood in the room turned joyous as all the guys had not seen Elon in a while, making this occasion a real treat.

“Sorry, Eggs, he really does look a lot like you,” you whispered. He smiles before putting his lips on yours, causing your face to go red once again. Getting kissed by Egon certainly did not get old no matter how many times it happens.

“It’s alright, (Y/N), I missed you too.”

Ray called out, “Hey, lovebirds! Get over here before we finish all the pizza.”

You pull away from Egon and adjust his tie, taking his hand and walking over to the others to get a fresh slice of pizza.

#RARE ELON SPENGLER TWIN SIGHTING!!#i love my earth day special boy he's so funny to me #so far this is the only fic i've ever posted anywhere #making it my mission to actually post more of my writing in 2024 or by the end of the year!!#to hell with being shy i need to share my love of x reader fics and my blorbos #egon spengler x reader #ghostbusters x reader #egon spengler #elon spengler #ghostbusters reader insert #ghostbusters #egon spengler imagines #x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n

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preciousthingsareprecious · 10 months

Text

Fic List Part 2

Okay so I have...a lot of fics apparently soo...this list will be more than two parts as I find stuff. This starts at 2019 and goes through roughly part of 2022. Please forgive me if there’s dupes or I forgot something that is your fav. Tumblr’s search feature even for me finding my own fics is...a mess

Part 1 of the Fic List

Master List (with AO3 Links)

Those Days We Miss

Damian dealing with missing Talia

Out Here Together

Dick teaching Damian about s’mores, connected to All the Fears will Pass but readable on it’s own

Love so Soft

Bruce Teaching Damian how to do s’mores! Spiritual sequel to Dick teaching him the same thing

All the Fears Will Pass

Dick and Damian, Damian tangling with Ivy for the first time

Alfred & Damian fluff

As the Years go By

Bruce being a Dad over Dick growing up

Of Baskets and Braids

Bruce, Dick, and Damian fluff, watching youtube and being a fam

Be There, For Me

Bruce and Damian, Damian having some flashbacks and Bruce taking care of him

Hearts Pounding and Blood Coursing

Robin and Batgirl have to save Batman (Dick!) from Scarecrow

Lego Land

Damian winning at Legos

Safe Together

Dick and Damian and fear toxin trapped in a grain silo

Down Here Below

Damian trying to disarm underwater bombs

And they Dig

Damian is kidnapped and stuck waiting around for rescue

Deterrent

Dick and Damian get hit with pollen that makes them unable to touch each other and they’re trapped in a collapsed building!

Laced Drink

Damian at a Gala and getting kidnapped.

Bleeding Out

https://preciousthingsareprecious.tumblr.com/post/188647957706/bleeding-out

Part 2 of a fic set with part one being Laced Drink. Featuring Dick off to save Damian!

Close the Chasm

Dick and Bruce talking about taking care of Damian

Underneath the Christmas Tree

A new present themed baddie in Gotham nabs Robin and it’s up to Batman to rescue him!

Out of Sight

Dick loses Damian in the chaos of a Wayne event getting hijacked

That Time Tim Totally Terminated Ra’s al Ghuls’ Entire Empire Part 1

Crack fic where to spite Ra’s Tim unionizes Ra’s ninjas and also comes home with two brothers

With Warmth and Love

Damian bakes cookies with Jason and Dick. Loose sequel to I’ll give All I Have

Here we are Together in the End

Content warning: Major Character Death, no comfort. This is my only no comfort fic so please be warned.

Dick and Damian deal with earthquakes in Gotham.

Light’s Out

The power goes out at the Penthouse and Dick and Damian figure out a way to enjoy the snow day

On a Cold Winter’s Night

The power goes out at Wayne Manor and Dick and Damian chill out

Under Repair

Jason helps Damian fix a car he’s just crashed…kind of

Put on Display

Robin gets nabbed by an obsessed fan and needs to be rescued

The Weight of Us

Dick and Bruce patrolling right after Bruce returns from being lost in time

A Lucky Shot

Dick and Damian and a series of unfortunate events on patrol

Damian at a Animal Rescue Farm

This Thrilling Day

Damian and Jon on vacation pulling Home Alone stunts

You Always Bring Me Home

Alfred and Bruce! Alfred being amazing and rescuing his Bat-lad

Just a Little Too Much

Damian being a little overwhelmed by a bad day

Bake it Just Right

Jason stress baking

No Day Like Toad-ay

Damian talks to a frog

And the World Spins

Dick has a very bad no good run in with Clayface

Time Ticks By

Tim and Damian bonding while escaping the Riddler

Safe Here, Safe Now

Dick and Damian training

#fic list #my fics #precious posts #long post #fics on tumblr #damian wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #alfred pennyworth #duke thomas #bruce wayne #batfamily

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cuubism · 3 months

Note

Okay obviously I want to know everything about everything but for now I’m super curious to know more about “Michelangelo’s Hands”

🤘five-and-dimes

@five-and-dimes

this is a fic I started in October 2022 and have just been slowly working on since, it's a post-episode 6 slow burn about Dream's difficulties with restoring the Dreaming and getting back to creating after not being able to create for 100 years (inspired by my annoyance at how the Dreaming goes from being totally wrecked to being basically normal again between one episode and the next in the show, even if I know there was a time jump and what not. why did it just get fixed, where's the effort 😂)

Hob dreamt himself into the center of the massive throne room, startling into existence between one moment and the next. He was barefoot on the marble floor, in dream-pajamas, and the room felt cold in only a t-shirt, though sunlight streamed in through the high windows.

The room looked partially restored, columns reconstructed, some of the broken glass and stone fragments gone from the floor, though all was not quite right. There were holes, still, near the starry ceiling, and even the restored parts of the room looked… odd. There was a fragile, forced quality to them, and cracks still showed in the marble.

Dream was sitting on the steps, as he had been last time. As before, the massive stained glass windows behind the throne were in shattered pieces on the floor around him, their empty window frames looking out on an expanse of infinite nothingness. It made Hob dizzy, so he focused on Dream instead.

He made his way across the room, careful of the glass. He sat beside Dream, who didn’t look up at him, though Hob knew he knew he was there.

“Hey, love,” he said gently, as he sat down. The throne room looked better, but Dream looked worse. Hunched over, hair a mess, shadows under his eyes. He was thrumming with power, Hob could feel it even when they weren’t touching, but it felt abrasive, dangerous. Massive and out of control.

“Hob,” he said quietly, in greeting. He was playing with a piece of glass again, tilting it back and forth in the sunlight pouring in the holes in the castle’s roof. Beams of red glanced over his face. Hob took his other hand, gave it a grounding squeeze.

“Reminds me of your ruby,” he said, nodding to the glass. “Whatever happened to that? Really?”

“A human attempted to use it and nearly destroyed himself and many others,” said Dream. His voice was gravelly and rough. Tired. “In trying to wrest away my power, he shattered it, freeing the power to return to me.”

“Must be strange, not to have it,” Hob mused. It was not quite the question he wanted to get at, but at least Dream was talking about something. Letting him in.

“I have relied upon it as a tool for too long. Now, I must rely on myself.”

So many things broken by his imprisonment, Hob thought. The ruby. The Dreaming. Dream’s own continuity. But not them, Hob vowed. Never them.

“Crafting without it is like sculpting of lava,” Dream said. “I had forgotten the feeling of such raw power.”

“Dangerous?” Hob asked.

“Yes,” Dream breathed. “And exhilarating. I—” he slipped his hand out of Hob’s and looked at both of his palms. “I scarcely know… what to do with it.”

The reflected light of the glass cast his palms in red. Dream closed his hands over the edges of the shard.

“When I escaped my prison, I had not touched a dream in over one hundred years.” His hands trembled. “In an instant they came to me, swirling and screaming and clamoring. Rejoicing. All of the dreamers. A trillion colors. A trillion voices.”

Hob laid his hand over his again. Dream’s skin was hot against his palm. He dropped the shard, and it cracked as it hit the floor, joining the hundreds of other pieces of debris scattered around the steps.

“I did not know what to do with them,” Dream admitted. “How to allow them in again. They were so loud, and I had been asleep for so long. I felt—” he studied his hands again, flexing his fingers. Those delicate hands. Hob wanted so badly to kiss them. “I felt too clumsy to touch them.”

What if Michelangelo lost his hands? Again the Corinthian’s words echoed in Hob’s mind. He watched his friend, master creator of all wonders and horrors, staring at his hands like he no longer knew them. He imagined him stumbling home, adrift in the river of creation so long taken away, only to find all that he had created decayed into nothing.

Picking the shards of glass from the floor with broken fingers.

Darkness flashed between them. Dream kept staring at his hands, only now they were bleeding—streams of red fell from long gashes in his palms, from lines gouged in his wrists, seeped from under his fingernails. Hob scrambled to hold them, to stop the bleeding with his own skin.

“Dream!” he gasped, the first time he had said it aloud, but he didn’t think his friend could hear him. “Dream!”

A tear swept down Dream’s cheek, washing away dust that had stuck from the shattered throne room. “They fled, Hob,” he said, despondent. “My creations fled.”

#only took 10 tries to get tumblr to let me post this XD censorship #ask #five-and-dimes #tag games #my writing

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toowildintheseventies · 8 months

Text

Trade Mistakes

chapter one: prologue

A/N: ahhh!!!! first time publishing fan-fiction in 8+ years…scary!!! that being said, this is the roughest of rough drafts. like…so rough that it’s embarrassing to even publish it. but, i knew if i didn’t publish it now i never would…and now this will be inspiration to keep writing. just keep that in mind as you read, and trust that future chapters will continue to improve.

Pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,500

Summary: You’re a woman with many vices. Smoking, drinking, spending time in shitty clubs, and your undying love and obsession with your ex-boyfriend, Bruce Wayne. You had spent your entire adolescence with each other, until he had unexpectedly broke your heart and disappeared. For the last few years, you two had lived separate, mysterious lives. Until you are reintroduced under strange circumstances and fictitiously rekindle your relationship.

Warnings, etc: suggestive (?) language, drinking, terrible grammar mistakes (lol)

— —

Seven Years Before The Events of “The Batman” (2022)…

It was the day of the first summer rain when you had let yourself into Bruce Wayne’s dorm room clutching onto a newspaper you had picked up from your own campus’s coffee shop in between classes. The leading article thrilled you so immensely that you found yourself skipping away from your friends huddled away at the darkest table in the cafe, and running down the dampened street to catch the first bus towards Bruce’s university fifteen miles away.

The rain had become much more aggressive since then, and when you walked through the gated doors of his dormitory you noticed the way the rain had muddied your school loafers and effectively ruined the rest of your school uniform, including the pressed white blouse and ridiculous gray knee socks with holes in the ankle.

It didn’t matter to you. Bruce had seen you looking much worse, and you were too excited to see him for you to step away and fix your hair that had been ruined by the rain and wind. Instead, you found yourself climbing the stairs two steps at a time and rushing past grumpy private-school boys towards his bedroom.

He was sitting at his desk facing the window when you first walked in, so lost in thought that he hadn’t notice you in his doorway. Surprisingly, he wasn’t focused on a textbook in his hands, and his blinds were closed shut. Instead, it seemed that he was staring at the wall in deep thought – as if he was looking beyond it at something more significant. But when you followed his gaze, you saw nothing but cracked paint and broken bricks.

He didn’t notice you until you were throwing down the newspaper on his desk and standing behind him with your hand placed gently on his shoulder. He looked up at you for a moment with a confused expression and then followed your eyes swiftly to the newspaper now sitting on top of his physics textbook.

“Look at this!” you said in-between girlish, excited giggles, “Read it!”

You watched as his eyes scanned the article: “Gotham’s Prince is Back!: Bruce Wayne and his Sweetheart Make Grand Return”.

Bruce snorted as he picked up the newspaper and examined the photos underneath the articles’ headline, taken during a late-night dinner after you and Bruce decided to make a home visit to Gotham a weekend ago. It hadn’t been important then, just something to do outside spending long hours in the library or strolling around campus for miles. But now, it seemed to be the start of something extraordinary. You had been photographed in front of an expensive restaurant in Gotham’s best district, arm in arm with the young man you loved, and the beloved faux-heir of Gotham itself.

Bruce struggled to hold back a sarcastic grin as he replied, “Gotham’s prince, huh? What does that make you? A princess?”

You giggled as you took the newspaper away from him and fell into his lap, pushing away his textbooks and worn notebooks in the process, “Of course it does.”

“Yes,” Bruce replied, smiling, “Of course.”

He had kissed you then. All of the darkness and anger you had felt radiating off of him when you first walked into the room seemed to disappear now that you were sitting on his lap and your lips were on his. His emotions were easier to ignore when it seemed like they disappeared into blissful nothingness whenever you were around. Everything was forgotten when it was just the two of you.

His kiss was so familiar, always unchanging. His passion and love seemed irreversible, even if he showed it in different ways – like kissing you softly and with gentle surprises. It was rarely spoken, but it was understood. You knew him when he was like this, and you could forget the darkness when he only showed you the light.

As he continued to kiss you as the night melted away, you kept hearing his gentle response to anything you asked for: “Of course, princess…of course, princess…”

–

The visits to Gotham continued, and with the paparazzi at every corner and articles written after every weekend escape. Your evenings were spent at vintage theaters and the expensive restaurants you recognized from when your parents would take you to Friday-night dinners throughout grade school.

The two of you silently understood that Gotham was suffering some kind of terrible sickness. You both had experienced the disease of Gotham younger than most, Bruce with the murder of his parents when he was eight years old, and you with the death of your parents when you were fourteen. It was those terrible events that first drew you to each other, two orphaned children who were coasting through secondary school on their life insurance-funded scholarships. You two understood a terrible truth that few other children did. When you first met, it was the first time either of you felt accompanied in a long time.

Those deaths weren’t mentioned much anymore. You learned very early that mentioning tragedy just caused bitter arguments and tears. But the ghosts of Gotham still followed you anywhere you went, and it was becoming harder to ignore the longer the two of you spent your nights in Wayne Manor or across the block where his parents were murdered.

Along with the trips to your home city and the newspaper headlines, Bruce’s nickname for you stuck. The “Prince of Gotham” analogy continued to be a running bit for all journalists and terrible paparazzi, and Bruce only found it amusing when he was repeating it back to you. He’d whisper the nickname to you, always accompanied by a sarcastic, sly grin: “Princess, princess, princess”.

You acted like you didn’t love it. Just like you acted annoyed with the photographs after dinner and the journalists on the steps outside of Wayne Manor. But the sarcastic title thrilled you, and promised you something greater. Suddenly, only a few weeks before his university graduation, Bruce Wayne was secretly promising you a lovely future. A future that was always assumed, but now it felt as if it was just around the corner. You were learning how to play the part throughout the weeks of city fame. You had become incredibly skilled at leading the media, doing and saying exactly what they expected you to. Bruce was skilled too, learning the ways of faux smiles and firm handshakes from his father years ago. But he was more introverted than you, attempted to stay hidden, and desperately wanted to be forgotten.

But you thoroughly enjoyed the game. Enjoyed flashing the necklaces he bought for you and laughing with him as you stepped outside of restaurants holding hands, forming the perfect first-page picture that would be plastered all over Gotham the following morning. Truly, it meant nothing to you. Your true relationship, hidden away in the sheets of your twin bed at your university or in the dining room of Wayne Manor, was important and cherished. But it was fun to play the part of the flashy, bubbly girlfriend to a dark, mysterious billionaire son. The beautiful princess to the brooding prince. It was a story that was fictitious and ridiculous, but you had designed it. It made the people of Gotham love both of you, and you thought that was important and honorable. They needed someone to believe in, even if it was shallow and forgettable – a story only found on shitty tabloids. But it was the best the two of you could do.

So, you let your relationship become public and beloved. You played your role and played it well. And in the late hours of the night and the hidden moments away from the blinding lights, you and Bruce continued the way the two of you always had. Stolen, serious kisses and inside jokes that made you feel giddy. Long talks at the breakfast table and study dates, dark liquor in mugs on top of the Wayne Manor rooftop. It was perfect and sweet and what you believed to be the beginning of something much grander.

It took you too long to recognize the darkness that was refusing to stay hidden. There were small signs in the beginning, signs that were ignored because you were too in love and too young to notice. Gotham visits would be unexpectedly canceled and you wouldn’t hear from him for hours, or you’d notice the soft bruises forming on his torso and the cuts along the hands that touched you gently. He’d always brush it off when you attempted to ask him about what he was doing in the long hours spent away from each other in the dead of night. At worst, you’d push him too far with your questioning and Bruce would shut you out completely.

His strange behavior continued all the way to his college graduation. That night, you had sat in the front row, wearing a dress you had picked out months before and perfected pin-curls in your hair. The dress was short and light blue, a blue that matched the colors he wore on his graduation stole. You had fretted and worried about your appearance that night, wanting to look special - maybe even perfect. It felt like Bruce’s graduation ceremony would be the start of the rest of your life.

It was after the graduation ceremony that Bruce came up to you, moving past the people that surrounded you on the university lawn and ignoring his classmates who called after him. He was smiling, the first time you had seen him smile in weeks. His grin looked genuine, and his feet picked up with boyish excitement after he laid eyes on you. Before you could speak, he picked you up and spun you around – as if the two of you had won some great reward together.

You laughed as he placed you back down on the ground and ran a hand through his hair, looking around anxiously at all the people watching you on the lawn.

“Happy graduation, Bruce,” you said, grinning back at him, “I’m so proud of you.”

It was as if every terrible thing that had happened in the weeks before his ceremony disappeared. Bruce was happy again, excited and thrilled at your presence. The bruises were easy to ignore now that he was smiling back at you. You began to believe that his strange behavior was simply a symptom of the stress of graduation and changes – things could go back to normal as soon as the night was over.

“In a little over a year, that’ll be you up there,” Bruce said, taking your hand and walking away from the crowd of people.

“Yes,” you agreed, smiling, “And then what? What’s next?”

“What’s next?” Bruce repeated, “Anything you want, princess.”

You had believed him then. You fought the urge to feel unsure and fearful and instead decided to faithfully believe in his sweet smiles and words as if they were a holy religion. You couldn’t imagine a universe where you weren’t by his side, where you wouldn’t be spending the rest of your life with him. But the darkening future that was pushed by his mysterious disappearances and hideous wounds hung over you, no matter how much you tried to ignore it.

—

It was a week after his graduation when Bruce started to ignore your calls and refused to come to the door. You had fought it for a while, begging Alfred over the phone to let you talk to him, or you’d show up at his doorstep in the middle of the night just to find he wasn’t home. He disappeared from the public as well, and many journalists began to call your phone at all hours. Desperate and alone, you had no choice but to tell them the half-hearted truth. You and Bruce Wayne had broken up. You refused to share any details. In truth, you had none.

He had given you one last good evening. He had spent the rest of his graduation night completely enthralled with you, taking you to your favorite restaurant and making love to you in his room at Wayne Manor. In a strange, uncomfortable way, you felt grateful that he had given you a final, beautiful memory. It took months for you to resign yourself and come to terms with the fact you would never hear from him again. But you stayed heartbroken and destroyed.

You had attempted to throw yourself into your studies and attempt to graduate. But suddenly everything felt meaningless.

It was only a few months after the breakup when you decided to drop out of university and move back to Gotham. You had felt alone in university, and the life you planned for had suddenly fallen apart in a quick evening. The future felt empty and terrifying. So you decided to face it head on.

Your decision to drop out was partly fueled by your growing depression and absolute hatred for everything that reminded you of Bruce Wayne. But mostly, your reasoning for dropping out of school was quite simple. You were out of money.

In between the mess of your heartbreak, your dead father’s accountant had disappeared with the rest of your inheritance. Which left you alone, heartbroken, and embarrassingly broke.

It took everything out of you not to call Bruce. But every time you reached for your phone, you couldn't think of one thing to say to him.

Instead, you figured it out on your own. You bought a shitty, shoebox sized apartment with an old friend from high school, and landed a waitressing job at some snobbish, french-inspired restaurant to pay the bills. On the weekends, you accompany your roommate to her bartending job at the infamous Iceberg Lounge, and spend your evenings sitting on the barstools, sipping on cheap vodka while wearing fake wigs and heavy eye makeup. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll meet a rich, drunk asshole who’s willing to pay to have a conversation with you.

You make a life for yourself. It’s messy, tough, and the exact opposite of the life you once expected. But at least, for the first time, you’re independent.

You forget about Bruce Wayne. It’s easy sometimes, when you’re especially busy and he’s become so invisible that he’s become almost a folktale.

There’s moments where it’s hard. Like when you grab a coffee before work and see his face on the first page of the newspaper at the register, the same newspaper that used to publish countless articles about the two of you. Or when you see the glowing, ominous building that is Wayne tower over the skyline in the morning. This city is full of countless reminders of what you lost.

You hate him, truly. You hate what he did to you.

You love him, though. You think you always will.

#robert pattinson #battinson #the batman #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #batman x fem!reader #batman x reader #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne fanfiction #the batman 2022 #fanfic #batman fanfic #fake dating #fake dating trope #rough draft

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neverwanttofallasleep · 8 months

Text

I Never Want To Fall Asleep - Chapter 7

Word count: 5,313

For pairings, warnings, and disclaimer - see Masterpost

(this chapter contains explicit sexual content!)

Sunday, December 25th, 2022

Frankenmuth, Michigan

You can hear tapping. In your half-conscious state, you convince yourself that it’s getting louder and louder as the seconds pass. You groan and roll over toward the window, pulling the covers up around your ears, a little of the light from the porch filtering in. As you wake up further, you realise the tapping is coming from the window itself.

Now that you’re becoming more lucid, you start to get freaked out. Why would someone or something be tapping on your window in the middle of the night?

You dig around next to you for your phone, still quietly playing Hozier from its little speaker. You turn the music off and check the time. 12.37am. You have a few messages, and you unlock your cell, the tapping persistent.

Not really thinking, you swipe the most recent message from Jake, and the whole thread pops up. Two days of unread texts. You’d muted him, so you hadn’t even seen the notifications. You skim them all, and since about 10am today, he hasn’t messaged. Until an hour ago.

11.38pm Jake: Are you awake? I need to talk to you.

11.40pm Jake: I have to see you.

11.40pm Jake: Y/N, please reply.

11.41pm Jake: It really can’t wait, I need to see you tonight.

11.42pm Jake: <missed call>

11.58pm Jake: Danny told me where you’re staying, please let me come over. I have to explain what’s been going on with me. Call me back or something please. Anything.

12.15am Jake: I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry about Lily, I’m sorry I haven’t really told you anything. I want to fix things between us so badly, you have to believe me. I really have to make this right.

12.23am Jake: I’m coming to you. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.

12.36am Jake: <2 missed calls>

12.37am Jake: I’m here, please let me in.

Another one pops up.

12.38am Jake: Please, Y/N.

You throw back the covers, springing out of bed. You don’t even care what you look like. You’re furious. You march to the door and swing it open. Jake steps into view, away from the window, and your heart drops a little. He looks terrible, his hair limp around his shoulders, wearing sweats and a hoodie. You can see his eyes are red and puffy.

You don’t care. You’re fuming. How could he do this, again? Why couldn’t he respect your need for privacy?

“What the fuck, Jake?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but you don’t let him.

“What part of you thought this would be okay? Tapping on my window? You scared the shit out of me. How many times do you have to come to me in the middle of the night, apologising? I told your brothers not to tell you where I was. I’m fine. I need space. Go home, Jake.”

He sighs, shakily. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it. It’s almost 1 in the morning. I need to sleep.”

He's staring at the ground, and he starts to cry. “Y/N, please.” He doesn’t even really seem to know what he’s asking you for. “I just, uh,” he chokes a little, “I just need to explain myself. Please let me do that. And if you still hate me afterwards,” he sobs, “fuck, I’ll understand. I just need to tell you this.”

You feel your heart ripping for him in your chest. You sigh. “I don’t hate you.”

He sniffles and looks up at you. “You don’t?”

“Of course I don’t. I just needed to get away. Be on my own.”

He’s wiping his eyes. God, he looks awful. “I didn’t want you to be on your own. Fuck, Y/N. That’s not why I brought you here. I wanted us to be together, y’know, with my family.”

“Well, that’s just not how it worked out. I’m sorry, Jake. I can’t be there with you under the circumstances.”

He sighs defeatedly. “I know that.”

You’ve come this far. Maybe you do want to hear him out. “Why are you here, Jake?”

He looks directly at you, and you feel like he can see inside your mind. Feel your resolve cracking. As he speaks, you feel your ears go deaf.

“Lily and I broke up. I, uh... I think I'm in love with you, Y/N.”

You think you might throw up.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You choke.

He can see what he’s said has done to you, and he reaches forward, as if to catch you. You withdraw quickly, faltering backwards into your room.

He’s just standing in the doorway watching you. “Can I please come in?” He finally asks.

You nod, unable to speak.

He walks uncertainly, like he’s worried you might snap and throw him out at any second. You might. He sits on one of the chairs at the table, and turns himself to face the bed, toward you.

You think you might be in shock. At one point in time, those words might have elicited a completely different reaction from you. But all you can feel right now is wracking, bone shattering guilt. After a few moments of standing in the centre of the room, practically shaking, you force yourself to sit down on the bed, facing him.

“You broke up with her?” You whisper.

He nods. “She broke up with me, actually.”

“When?” You feel like you’re gasping for breath.

“Thursday night.” He’s settled now, not crying anymore. Seems like he’s now the rational one between of the two of you.

“You broke up because of me?”

He sighs. “No. I guess partly. But no, it was coming for a long time.”

You let out the breath you’ve been holding. “What do you mean?”

“We’ve not really been together since before the tour. We decided to go on a break before I left, things were, uh, pretty rough. I didn’t tell anyone except Josh. And I think we both separately decided while I was away that things weren’t gonna work out. I knew she was gonna be here, but we’d agreed to not see each other until after Christmas. I was supposed to break up with her next week, but Sam ran into her, and she came over and saw you. She, uh, she got there first.”

“So it was because of me?” You try to swallow, but you can’t. It feels like there are rocks in your throat.

He shakes his head. “Lily and I haven’t been on the same page for a long time. We’ve been holding on to this relationship because it’s what we know, and we each cared too much about the other to let it end. I’ll always love her, but it took me until I met you to realise that I can have more than one love of my life.” He sighs. “She saw it, too. I think that’s what made up her mind.”

That sick feeling is creeping up on you again. “I didn’t mean for that to happen."

He sighs. “I know. It’s not your fault. Please don’t think of it like that. She’s known for a while that it was over, and I think I have, too.”

You start to cry. Jake looks as if he might get up to comfort you, but perhaps he thinks better of it. You close your eyes, wishing you could disappear.

You feel the bed jostle beside you, and his cold hand make contact with your thigh. You open your eyes and turn to face him, and you can feel his warm breath, his eyes boring into yours. You just stare at him, tears still staining your cheeks. His eyes flick between yours, as if he’s searching for an answer.

“Why are you wearing my sweater?” He breathes, his other thumb brushing away your tears.

At the same time, you collide. Your lips meet in a frenzy, nipping and licking, rushing to explore each other in a way you never have. He grips your thigh, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. Your hands grab at one another blindly, searching for purchase. Without breaking apart, your fingers find the hem of his sweatshirt and pull at it, silently asking him to take it off.

He complies, barely giving you a second to breathe before his mouth is back on yours, quickly moving down your jaw and neck, leaving open mouthed kisses and angry red marks in his wake. You run your hands wildly up and down his bare back, gripping the base of his neck, fingers knotting in his long hair.

He pulls at your sweater (his sweater) and you break from him, lifting your arms to allow him to remove it for you. His eyes burn with such intensity when he looks at your bare chest, you feel a tingle spread over the entire surface of your body. He immediately attaches his lips to your collarbone, biting the soft skin there, and licks a stripe down to your sternum. His hand finds your throat, the tips of his fingers winding into your hair, the other wildly palming your breast.

You let out a whimper, and he groans into your chest, pulling your other nipple gently between his teeth. It burns, but it feels nice. You grip the back of his hair, holding him in place. Once he’s given one breast sufficient attention, he moves to the other to repeat his actions. You moan. You can feel that familiar fluttering between your legs, and your heart is racing.

You’re still sort of sitting on the edge of the bed, him now on his knees and you facing him, your arms propping you up, your legs on either side of him. He’s digging his thumbs into the creases between your hip and thigh, and you want more. Harder, closer. He gives your clavicle a final wet kiss, removing his mouth with a pop. You let out a whimper at the loss of contact, your breathing jagged. When he looks up at you, his eyes are dark.

He sits back a little, and you think he’s about to continue with this manic worship of your body, but instead, he stops his movements, his hands splayed firmly on your hips. You can see his hard cock straining through his sweatpants, it makes you shiver. He leans down close to your face, not quite close enough to connect your lips, and he sighs.

“Fuck, I love you.” He whispers.

You feel your body tense as the reality of what you’re doing hits you like a wave. They broke up two days ago. Your throat feels tight, like you can’t breathe. This doesn’t feel good. It doesn’t feel right.

He begins to plant small kisses on your nose and cheeks, and you place your palms against his shoulders and push him back, away from you.

“Stop.” You say, but it comes out weak.

He does, and pulls back to look at you questioningly.

“Put your clothes back on.” You try to sound authoritative, but by the concern painting his face you know it sounds pathetic.

You close your eyes, trying to take a deep breath.

When you open them a few moments later, he’s still there, sitting back on his heels, now with his hoodie on. Still giving you that same look. Loving, you’d say, if you had to put a name to it now. But it doesn’t feel like you thought it would, when you imagined this moment. It hurts.

When you finally speak again, it comes out strangled. “I think you should go, Jake.”

He looks like he’s been smacked across the face. “I want to be with you, Y/N. I thought you wanted that too. I know you’re scared. It’s okay.”

You sob. “I can’t. Please just go.”

He sits for a few more moments, as if he can’t accept what you’ve said.

Finally, he stands from the bed, and without a word, he leaves.

You curl up, hugging your knees to your chest, heaving breaths.

You’d wanted this. ‘I love you.’ The words you’d wanted to hear from him for so long. But they didn’t feel good. They felt muddy and broken, like they’d been dipped in poison. Lily had ended a nine year relationship with Jake, because of you. You were heartbroken. For him, for her, and for yourself.

You feel your phone buzz underneath you.

1.13am Sammy: we’re here. we followed him when he said he was coming. saw him leave, just wanna make sure you’re ok. we can come up or just leave you be if you want. x

1.14am You: Please come here

You throw Jake’s sweater back on, and less than a minute later, you hear the door creak open. You leap up, crumbling straight into Danny’s arms, sobs ripping from you. You can’t even bring yourself to be upset that he told Jake where you were, you just need his comfort right now.

You hear the door close as Danny pets your hair, shushing you softly.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re here. You’ll be okay.”

You hear small noises around the room, the kettle clicking on, the bathroom door being opened and closed, a glass being set down on your night stand, Sam offering Danny a tea. Eventually Danny ushers you back toward the bed, sitting you down, still keeping his arms tightly around you.

You can feel the dampness of his coat under your cheek from your tears, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re just sniffling now, hiccoughing, but you can’t speak.

“I know, Y/N. It’s gonna be okay.” He strokes your head with one hand and rubs your arm with the other.

You feel pathetic. Jake’s brothers, his support system, here with you, when he’s just as upset as you are. As you realise this, you gasp and pull back from Danny.

“Who’s with Jake? Also, it’s Christmas! You guys shouldn’t be here!” You sniffle.

Danny shushes you again and pulls you back into his arms. “We want to be here for you. We love you. And Jake’s headed home to be with Josh. He’s okay.”

You let out a noise that sounds like a wail. Danny doesn’t falter, he just keeps patting you, shushing you, whispering affirmations into your hair. You hear Sam sit down at the table across from you, where his brother had been sitting not minutes before.

“Christ, Y/N. What did he say to you?” Sammy breathes.

You feel Danny shake his head, but you look up at Sam.

“He told me…” you gasp, “that he… and Lily… that they broke up.”

You crumble back into Danny’s chest. “And that he loves me.” You whine through a sob.

They boys don’t speak, Danny just continues to comfort you. You can sense some sort of silent conversation happening between the two of them.

Finally, Danny speaks. “I’m so sorry I told him where you were.”

“It’s… okay…” You blubber.

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have gone against what you asked of us. I just heard his side of the story, and I felt like you needed to hear it, too.”

You whimper. “I know… Danny… it’s okay.”

The three of you sit in almost silence, save for your pathetic noises of grief, for a long time. You don’t know how long. You understand why Danny told Jake. If you were in his position, you’d have done the same thing. Everything Jake had said should’ve been something you’d want to hear, the way he’d touched you something you’d dreamed about for so long. It just didn’t feel right.

Eventually you sit up properly, but Danny stays constant by your side. Sam passes you both cups of tea. You don’t drink yours, but you hold it in your hands for the comfort.

When you can, you begin to fill them in on bits and pieces of your conversation with Jake. How you’d started off angry with him, then shocked about his revelation, and ultimately crushed that you’d felt so awful about the whole thing that you’d kicked him out. You leave out the part about the almost-sex.

“Is that really what you want? For him to leave you alone? ‘Cause you know he will, if you ask him to. Now you know everything, so if you tell him to fuck off, he’ll respect it. I’m sure he will.”

You give Sam a sad look. “Of course not, Sammy. I’d imagined this scenario in my head a million times, and I always imagined saying it back. But I’d never considered her, or that relationship. I can’t be responsible for that, and I can’t be a rebound.”

Sam nods. “I get that. But I don’t see it that way, and I don’t think Jake does, either. He’s had plenty of opportunity for rebounds with all the girls he’s been with on tour. I don’t think that’s what you are for him.”

You sniff. “But what about her? I feel like I’ve ruined her life.”

“Lily’s her own person, Y/N.” Danny chimes in. “From what Jake told us, it sounded like that relationship was over for her just as much as it was for him. She made the choice, and that’s not on you. They both deserve to be happy.”

You nod, but you’re uncertain.

Danny pulls out his phone, you assume checking the time.

“We should probably go soon, it’s getting late.”

You nod. “What time is it?”

“Almost 2.30.” He says sheepishly.

“Fuck. Yes, you should definitely go. You have to be with your families in the morning. Please, go home.” You stand and usher them toward the door.

Danny stands too, straightening his coat. Sam tosses him the car keys.

“I’m gonna stay. Josh will come get us in the morning. You take my car home and we’ll sort it out later.”

Danny nods.

“No, Sam, you don’t need to do that. I’m okay.”

He shakes his head. “I want to.”

You give him a small smile. “Okay. Thank you.”

Danny wraps you in another big hug, this one a bit less pitiful.

“Good night, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow, if you’re still around.”

You nod into his chest. “Thank you. For everything. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Get some sleep, kiddo. Don’t let Sam keep you up with his snoring.”

You giggle. “Good night.” You gasp. “Wait, Danny!”

He turns around.

“I have to give you something.”

He looks at you questioningly.

You head over to your duffle, rummaging around until you find it. You turn to face away from the boys so they can’t see you, and fold it up neatly. No way to wrap gifts when you’re stuck in a motel without a car, so this will have to do.

“Close your eyes!” You say, and Sam giggles.

Danny hums. “Okay, they’re closed.”

You turn and walk over to him. “Hold out your hands.”

He does, and you place the folded scarf into his palms.

“Okay, you can open.”

He does, and he gives a little gasp as he unfolds your gift.

“Did you make this?”

You nod.

“They’re your colours, Daniel.” Sam says quietly.

Danny holds up the dark purple and blue scarf in his hands, and he almost looks a bit emotional. “I love it. Thank you, Y/N.”

You give him another hug. “In case I don’t see you. Merry Christmas, Danny.”

He hugs you back. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Danny winds the scarf around his neck, pats Sam on the shoulder, and heads out.

You and Sam don’t talk much before you go to sleep. You get up to put away the cups while Sam uses the bathroom, and then you quietly pad back to bed. As Sam reemerges, you snuggle yourself back under the covers on your side. Sam silently undresses, leaving himself in just his boxers. He smiles at you sheepishly.

“Forgot to pack my jammies.”

You giggle. “It’s okay.”

He slides in, getting comfortable. “You’re lucky I see you like a sister, Y/N, or this might’ve gotten uncomfortable real fast.”

You feel yourself turning red. “I’m more worried about Lennon. Is she okay with you doing this for me?”

Sam chuckles. “Fuck, if you only knew. She gets turned on by the idea of me with other girls.”

You swat him. “Sam!”

He just laughs again. “She’s freaky like that.”

You giggle, and you both lay there in silence for a while.

“Thank you, Sam.”

He rolls toward you. “What for?”

“Being my friend.”

“It’s my pleasure.” You can hear him grinning as he turns off the lamp.

You take his hand over the covers, and you fall asleep to the sound of his breathing.

When you wake in the morning, for a brief moment, when you see the dark mop of hair on the pillow beside you, you forget who it is. They look so alike.

Sam groans and rolls over to turn off his alarm. You check your own phone, and scold yourself for being disappointed that you have no new messages. 7.31am.

“‘Morning, princess.” Sam says in a sleepy voice, patting your hand. “Sleep okay?”

“‘Morning, Sammy. Yeah, fine. You?”

“Terribly. Was tossin’ and turnin’ all night.”

You giggle. Sam was out like a light within minutes and slept the whole way through. You know this, because you weren’t so lucky.

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, awful. There was some girl in the bed hogging all my blankets and snoring like a chainsaw.”

You smack him lightly on his bicep. “Oh, fuck off. I do not snore.”

He chuckles. “How would you know?”

You roll your eyes. “What time is Josh coming?”

He lifts his phone to hold it above his face, his silky, dark hair splayed around his head like a halo. Jake’s hair does that, too, but Jake’s is always a little more messy in the mornings. It’s a different texture, his curls stick to his cheeks, strands glinting golden in the morning light.

Sam frowns, scrolling through his messages. “Ah, like eight-ish. Gonna grab a shower before he gets here. Can I use your towel?”

You nod. “Yeah, of course.”

He springs out of bed with a surprising amount of energy, bouncing to the bathroom.

You pull back the covers and hop out of bed yourself, stretching and running your hand over your face. You feel like you didn’t sleep at all. You must’ve gotten a couple of hours, but there was definitely a while sometime in the early morning when you just lay there, contemplating everything Jake, Danny and Sam had said to you in the hours prior.

You pad over to the kettle and turn it on, hunting for the instant coffee packets. You were kind of getting used to them now. You could go to the dining hall and get drip coffee, but you didn’t want to see anyone. You make one for yourself and one for Sam, and leave them on the table while you hunt through your bag for a Christmas-appropriate outfit.

You settle on a loose, long, black dress, stockings and your brown Doc Marten work boots. They’re your most comfortable shoes, and the only thing you have with you other than the matching black lace-up pair you wear for shows and your beat-up white sneakers. You decide you’ll finish the outfit with Jake’s knitted sweater and your big red scarf. You don’t really know what it means, for you to choose to wear his sweater, but it feels comforting.

Once you’ve laid out your clothes on the bed, you dig through your duffle for your gifts, stowing them in your purse before Sammy can see. In your free time at the motel over the past few days, you’ve managed to crochet some colourful little flowers for Ronnie, Lennon and Kai, maybe to wear as brooches or put on hair clips, a pot holder for Karen and a beer cozy for Kelly using your wool scraps. You’re satisfied with your gifts. They’re small, but they’re homemade, and they’re a token of your appreciation for the family that took you in this Christmas.

When Sam’s finished in the bathroom, you shower and dry your hair, putting on a little makeup to hide the circles under your eyes. As you survey yourself in the mirror, you notice a few small purple marks blooming on your neck and collarbone. Your throat gets tight, and you dab them with a little concealer. The sweater should cover them, anyway.

You decide to leave your hair out and flowing over your shoulders, just pinning back a few pieces by your temples to frame your face. You feel okay. You don’t really know who you’re trying to impress. Karen, you tell yourself. You have to look nice for Karen.

Sam takes his coffee and politely goes out to the balcony for a smoke so you can get dressed. When you’re ready, you tidy the room a little. You’ll be back here tonight, cause there’s no way you can get a flight, or an Uber for that matter, on Christmas Day. You might have to wait it out until Tuesday before you can get yourself back to New York. You make the bed, and hang the wet towel up in the bathroom. You grab your coffee and head out the front door to join Sam. Surely it was close to 8am now, if not past.

You find him leaning over the balcony, on FaceTime with Lennon. She squeals when she sees you.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N!” She looks like she’s wearing red and white Christmas-themed pyjamas, and you can hear the giggles and shrieks of small children in the background. That must be her nieces and nephews.

You smile. “Merry Christmas, Lennon. How’s Memphis?”

“Surprisingly freezing! We’ve had snow for the first time I can remember, it’s so nice. Really feels like the holidays.”

“I’m so glad! Sounds like it’s hectic over there.”

Sam holds the phone between you both so you can see properly, and she can see you. In the background, you can see a huge Christmas tree, and two little boys darting back and forth, chasing each other with nerf guns.

Lennon giggles. “Yeah, the little ones have been up since 5am. The grumpy teenager is still asleep, but I think her brothers are planning to go in and jump on her if she’s not up before 8.30.” She laughs.

You laugh too. “That sounds like fun! How is your sister?”

“She’s great! Happy to palm the kids off to me and my dad for babysitting duties, I think. But how are you? How’s Frankenmuth? Are you ready to head to the Kiszkas’?”

“Yeah, I think we’re just waiting on Josh?” You look at Sammy.

“Yup, he texted a few minutes ago. Said he was just getting in the car.”

You smirk. “Of course he was.” Ah, well. Being a little late wouldn’t hurt. The Kiszkas’ weren’t little kids anymore, and you imagined Jake was probably still asleep, anyway.

Lennon pulls your attention back to her. “Hon, Sammy told me a little bit about what went down between you and Jake. Are you alright?”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just messy.”

“Jake’s a fuckwit.” Sam interjects, and you give a tight smile.

Lennon ignores him. “I know, of course it is. But it’ll work itself out. I know you didn’t ask for my advice, but I’m gonna give it to you anyway. You and Jake are supposed to be together. Anyone with half a mind can see that. I was only on the tour with y’all for three days and I could see it. I know it feels hard now, maybe even wrong, but you’ll get there. Lily is okay. I’ve spoken to her a bit, and she seems like she’s doing good. Try not to worry about that.”

You breathe a deep sigh. Lennon was just telling you what she thought you wanted to hear.

“Thank you. I dunno, I just think I need time to process it all.”

She smiles. “Then take that time, girl. There’s no rush. Try to enjoy yourself today. Spend time with Karen and Ronnie, and Joshy and Sammy will look out for you, won’t you, babe?”

Sam nods. “Yeah, ‘course.”

At that moment, you see Jake’s car pull in, and your stomach drops. Sam puts a hand on your arm.

“It’s Josh.”

You nod, your head swimming.

“Okay, baby, he’s here. We gotta go. I’ll call you later?”

“Bye, Lennon!” You call, turning to head back into the room. Sam follows.

“Good luck, Y/N!” She calls back. “Have a great time, babe. Give your momma and daddy a big hug and kiss from me.”

“I will. Love you, baby.”

“Love you, too. Miss you. Merry Christmas.”

You feel a little intrusive listening in on the conversation. You can hear the adoration dripping from Sam’s voice as they say goodbye.

You shove your last bits and pieces into your purse and give the room a final sweep. Sam puts the coffee mugs by the bathroom sink, grabs his wallet from the night stand, and follows you out the door.

When you get down to the car, you quickly make your way to the back drivers side seat. You know Josh isn’t going to hold anything against you, but you’re a little scared to face him after last night. You wonder what Jake told him.

As Sammy clambers into the passenger seat, giving his brother the goofiest grin, Josh greets you both.

“Merry Christmas, stowaways. Sam, Mom was so pissed when she found out you weren’t home this morning. You might have a tongue-lashing coming.”

You feel guilty.

Sam chuckles. “She can suck it. We’ll be home before Jake’s even awake. What’s she worried about?”

Josh smirks. “I dunno, something about it being ‘Christmas tradition for all the kiddos to wake up under the one roof’, or some shit like that.” He does a terrible impersonation of Karen, and you hold back a giggle.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Oh, whatever. She’ll survive. We’ll be there in like 20 minutes.”

Josh pulls out of the parking lot and out onto the main road.

He looks at you in the rearview. “How are you this morning, Y/N? Sleep okay?”

You nod. “Yeah, fine. Happy Christmas, Josh.”

He smiles. “And to you, my love.”

And that’s that. You’re grateful he doesn’t ask you about Jake, but you imagine it’s for his own sake as much as yours. There’s a nagging little part of you that just wants to check, see if he’s okay, but you don’t. You’ll be seeing him soon anyway.

You’re quiet during the drive, letting Sammy and Josh bicker in the front about Josh’s music choices, and what you’ll be eating for lunch. You lean back into the car seat, and you’re surrounded by the familiar smell of Jake, embedded in the leather. When you near the Kiszkas’ house, you begin to feel your tummy swirling, and your hands get clammy.

Hold it together, you tell yourself. You can do this. You’re brought back to the minutes when you first arrived here, you and Jake sitting in the car. You can almost feel his hand resting on yours, and hear his words.

‘I want you here with me. That’s all that matters.’

You feel tears well in your eyes and you try to bite them back.

As you go to get out of the car, your phone buzzes.

8.42am Jake: I won’t bring it up. Just try to act normal for my family. They really want you here, too. I know you’ll be feeling bad about your mom and dad. Try to enjoy it.

‘Too.’ It was still true. He did want you here. And you still wanted him. Now you had a choice to make. What were you going to do?

Chapter 8 (Part 1)

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