#i’m doing. really bad right now. well not /really/ bad i guess

[imaginespazzi]

Part 6: Leaps of Faith

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

I hope that you catch me, cause I'm already falling (you put your arms around me and I'm home)

(In which a writer who can see the end approaching starts building towards that ending)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst and Fluff

Words: 8.0K

TW: Swearing, Alludes to Sexual Content

A/N: Good evening my lovelies <3. Happy Sunday and Happy Mothers day! First of all, I wanna thank y'all for being ever so patient with me. I know I've been pretty bad about updating lately and y'all have been so sweet with your asks and I really appreciate it. This fic is very close to its end. I probably could have ended it with this chapter but there's a very specific ending I want to write so this one is more of a self-indulgent filler but I think y'all will like this one. There will be one more chapter and then an epilogue of sorts. Once again, there are most likely logistical inaccuracies. I'm not even gonna lie, the editing on this one is shoddy so there are definitely grammar errors/typos. For now, ignore them and I'll go fix them later. As always, even if we're near the end, feel free let me know what you liked, what you didn't and anything you'd like to see before we get to the end. Have a wonderful week my angels <3

April 2024 

“It’s a little early for ice cream hon,” Azzi jumps at the sound of her mother’s voice, startled eyes following the direction of the noise to find Katie leaning against the kitchen door, with a raised eyebrow. 

“It’s a little early to scare the living bejesus out of me mom,” she says with a hand to her chest. 

If possible, Katie’s eyes roll even further at her daughter’s sarcastic tone as she makes her way over to the kitchen counter. She’s gotten herself a spoon and everything, ready to steal some ice cream for herself, when she notices the flavour. Next to her, Azzi stiffens. 

“You hate mint chocolate chip Az,” Katie says quietly. 

“I couldn’t find the strawberry ice cream,” Azzi defends stubbornly, her face taking on a guarded expression. 

Katie walks over to the freezer, opening it and pointing at the strawberry ice cream, Azzi’s favourite, that’s sitting in plain sight, “it’s right there.”

“Well,” Azzi splutters, “I’m trying something new,”. 

“You hate trying new things.”

“I’ve grown up I guess.”

“Azzi.”

“Mom.”

“Azzi, why are you eating ice cream you hate at 4 in the morning?” Katie finally asks in her best mom voice, sighing when she gets a mumbled response from her daughter, “in words Az, please.”

“Paige likes it,” Azzi admits slowly, and before Katie can say anything, before Azzi can dwell on what she’s said, she launches into a rant, “god knows why. Actually I know why because she’s stupid and weird and likes the dumbest shit. Who the fuck likes mint? Who the fuck likes mint and chocolate together? Gross. This shit is disgusting. It tastes all wrong. Paige is just-,” Azzi throws her hands up in the air, “she just doesn’t understand that some things don’t belong together. They can’t. They’re too different and it just- there’s a fucking balance to things you know? And she just- she doesn’t get that. It’s just- it’s not meant to be.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re eating it right now,” Katie says carefully. 

“Because I miss her,” the truth bursts out of Azzi like an erupting volcano, burning itself into every crevice of her skin, “because for some fucking reason I don’t hate the taste of mint chocolate chip. Because maybe they do go together and maybe I’ve been the stupid one this whole time.”

Since she’d stepped out of the hotel in Cleveland, all Azzi could think about was going back, saying fuck it to all the useless logic she’d come up with and going back to the only thing in her life that had ever made sense her Paige. But as it often did in that clichéd battle between head and heart, her head had won out. And she’s never questioned why her head wins so much, why she’s always chosen to listen to the practical side of her brain, until now. Until now when the urge to turn back time, to make herself stay in that hotel room, is all that’s consumed her for the last week. 

“Azzi,” Katie wraps her arms around the younger girl, “what happened with you and Paige?”

Azzi hesitates for a second and then everything’s spilling out of her lips, the good, the bad, the inbetween, all of it tumbles out like an uncontrollable waterfall. There’s something freeing about being able to say it all out loud, something freeing about the tears Azzi finally lets roll down her cheeks. She grips the edge of the counter to keep herself from keeling over, starting to feel herself crumble under the heaviness of all these stupid feelings. 

“It shouldn’t be this hard,” Azzi whispers, “we used to be so easy.”

“Oh Az,” Katie rubs a thumb against her daughter’s cheek, “you used to be kids. You’re all grown up now. It’s always harder when you’re older.”

“Well, I don’t like it. I just want to be the way we were again.”

“So why don’t you?” Katie asks like it’s the most simple solution in the world and Azzi shoots her mother an exasperated look. 

“What do you mean? How do we even do that? We can’t be just friends again. We tried. Were you not listening at all?”

“Azzi, sweetheart, you’ve never been just friends.”

“That’s not true,” it’s a futile attempt at arguing against what’s become more of a fact than an opinion in Azzi’s life. It’s a truth she’d let herself acknowledge once and then buried deep within her, scared that once unleashed, it would ruin everything. Except, it turns out, even without it, things had still turned to dust.  

“Do you remember when you came home from Minnesota that first summer with Paige? You were either moping around or you were on call with her. There was no in between. It got better eventually, the moping stopped but the calls? I think you fell asleep on facetime with her almost every night. And you were tired every morning after, you barely had time to eat before school but every time I suggested that maybe you cut back, that was never an option,” Katie smiles fondly, “it’s when I knew.”

Azzi does remember, remembers talking about everything and nothing, remembers laughing and crying, remembers when Paige’s breathing was the only lullaby that could relax her into sleeping. And she remembers battling with that voice in her head, the one convinced there’s something more, silencing it with I’d do this with anyone. But that wasn’t true then and it’s not true now because Paige has never been just anyone, never been just a friend. Because even if Azzi’s never been brave enough to say it out loud, Paige is and has always been everything.

Despite knowing the answer and maybe dreading it just a little bit, Azzi asks it to her mom anyway, “what did you know?”

“That she was your person. You were too young, I couldn’t call it love just yet but I knew Paige was different then, she was yours in a way none of your other friends were. You were different around her,” Katie nudges her daughter, “Azzi you’ve always been just a little bit in love with her and she’s always been just a little bit in love with you too. The two of you have just been a matter of time.”

Azzi closes her eyes, and unlike other people, she doesn’t see darkness or little spots of light, she just sees Paige. Her mother’s words wash over her, like acid in her self-inflicted fight the feelings wounds and yet, the idea of she’s loved me too feels like a band-aid being delicately placed on the scars of her heart. 

“And place,” she whispers, eyes still closed, “we never seem to get time and place right.”

“Why do you need to?”

Another exasperated look is sent Katie’s way at that question, “we live on different sides of the country mom, what do you mean why do we need to?”

“I mean the two of you have barely ever been in the same place. But you made it work, when you had even less, when you felt even less. But you’re adults now. You have other resources now. And I know timing is difficult but- it’s you and Paige. What are you so scared of Azzi?”

Azzi sucks in a deep breath, “what if Paige runs away again?”

“What if you run away again?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Who was the last person to walk away, Azzi?,” Katie sighs when Azzi is adamantly silent, “I know she hurt you by leaving. I know she hurt you by pushing you away. But you did the same thing. You chose UCLA,” Katie holds up a hand when a frustrated Azzi tries to interrupt, “and it was the right decision for you Azzi and she should have supported it. But that doesn’t meant you didn’t hurt her and then you chose Zoe-”

“I didn’t choose Zoe-”

“Yes you did Azzi. Sweetheart you’re my daughter and I will always tell you the complete truth even if it’s not what you wanna hear. And the truth Azzi is that Paige might have hurt you in 101 different ways but that doesn’t mean you didn’t hurt her back in 99 different ways too.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Azzi whispers, “that’s the problem mom. It hurts when she hurts me but it hurts even more when I hurt her. I don’t want that for us but I just- I just don’t know how to stop it without stopping us.”

“You haven’t even tried, baby. Paige held out a hand and you ran away.”

“She left first. How am I supposed to trust that she won’t just do that again," all that’s missing from Azzi’s stubborn whine is a foot stomp.

“Because she came back. It took her a little bit, I know, but she came back and she’s ready to fight, the question is, are you?”

“Why are you defending her?” Azzi splutters, “who’s side are you even on?”

“There are no sides to this sweetheart. The two of you are on the same side. So maybe instead of fighting against her, take that hand, fight with her.”

***

The WNBA draft is a momentous occasion this year. With a hyped draft class like no other, and the promise of even greater ones in the future, there’s a sense of celebratory hope dangling in the air. When the invite had first come in, Azzi had known the same one would be sent to a certain blonde in Connecticut as well. And a part of her had wanted to hide herself away from that possible collision, but every other part of her wanted nothing more than to get just a glimpse of the blonde.

One moment Azzi is surrounded by flashing cameras and the echo of her name on everyone’s lips, the next everything around her is fading away her eyes meet Paige’s on the other end of the WNBA draft orange carpet. It’s nothing new really. Since she’s met her, the blonde has commandeered all of Azzi’s attention whenever she’s nearby. Sometimes it feels like all of her other five senses fade away to give birth to a secret sixth one, one that’s solely dedicated to Paige, one that’s terrifyingly all-consuming. And yet, despite the heaviness of we’ve said too many goodbyes, for the first time in what feels like eternity, Azzi feels like she can finally breathe. 

And then Paige looks away. 

And Azzi’s back to struggling for air. 

It’s selfish of her, she knows, to expect something, not when she’d been the one to leave them stranded on different islands. But Azzi doesn’t seem to think logically when it comes to Paige and even as she tries to turn her focus back to posing for the camera, every inch of her body is dangerously aware of the blonde’s every move, just a mere few feet away from her. Her conversation with her mother is echoing in her head, giving rise to dangerous desires of what if i grabbed your hand and we ran away together. 

Paige is a natural on the orange carpet, all dazzling smiles and twinkling eyes. She glides through it, inching closer and closer to Azzi, but never giving away any sense of discomfort. And if it was anybody else, maybe they’d never catch onto the nerves hidden beneath Paige’s facade of calm, cool and collected. But once upon a time Paige used to be Azzi’s favourite puzzle and she has every part of the blonde committed to memory. It’s in the way Paige’s teeth gnaw at her lips for the briefest of seconds, in the way her right index finger is begging to tap a beat against where her hands rests on hips, in the way she’s blinking just one too many times. 

And then with one more heavy footed step from Paige, the distance between them is barely a couple inches and they let out identical breaths of air, both of them keeping their focus on the cameras in front of them. It’s loud, too loud, and still all Azzi can focus on is the sound of Paige breathing. The air around them is thick with tension. It feels a bit like they’re silhouetted against a sky made of words they’ve left unsaid and clouds of all the bitter mistakes they’ve made are hanging over their heads. And when their pinkies brush together, and a jolt of electricity sends shivers of I miss you more every day again her skin, Azzi questions if she’s ever made the right decision when it comes to Paige. 

“Wait wait wait,” Ari cuts in, as she squeezes herself in between the two of them, “I wanna get in between the two of you.”

A harsh cry of no sits heavily on the top of Azzi’s tongue as the older woman forces a break in whatever little bit of contact she’d had with Paige. She feels a little pathetic, the way every little inch of her skin is craving for that touch back. It had been nothing, a barely there moment and still Azzi thinks, when she goes to bed tonight, if that was all she’d get of Paige, then it’ll be the only thing that’ll feature in her dreams. 

“Alright one with just Paige and Azzi,” Ari directs the media, stepping out of the way and pushing the two younger girls together. And it’s laughable that a little brush of their pinkies had Azzi feeling any type of way because when they’re suddenly pressed together, every inch of Paige’s side fitting into Azzi’s like it belongs, the way the world suddenly bursts with light and colours makes Azzi wonder if every moment without Paige has simply been monochrome. 

It comes to them naturally how to pose together, arms winding around each other’s waist, heads involuntarily leaning against the other’s. And the smiles might be for the cameras but Azzi knows hers is the most real it’s been all night. It might be temporary, she might lose Paige in the chaos, but for now Paige is here and Azzi has learned how to be content with whatever little she can get. 

As the media moves to capture other people, the logical thing to do would be to separate, to let go of each other. But instead they stand there, still completely wrapped around each other, heart rates in sync as they breathe in each other’s presence. And then Paige’s hand falls from the small of Azzi’s back to tangle their fingers together and they let out identical sighs of relief, something so cathartic in the purposefulness of that touch. Everyone is too busy to notice that the two of them have fallen into a whole other world, one where there’s only two of them and every emotion that they’ve only reserved for the other. There’s no words exchanged as Paige guides the two of them out of the spotlight, somehow keeping their hands clasped together in secret, despite the ever growing crowd. And Azzi doesn’t know this building at all, doesn’t have the faintest clue where she’s being led to, but as long as it’s Paige pulling her along, she doesn’t care where, she thinks she’d go anywhere. 

Paige stops abruptly in a secluded corridor, turning to fully face Azzi. And the sincerity in the blonde’s crystalline blue eyes, as they roam every inch of Azzi’s body before coming to fixate on her face, steals the air away from Azzi’s lungs. Paige has gotten better over the years at building walls, but with every new lock she places on her emotions, there’s a key to open them that seems to always find its way to Azzi. In the delicate golden hue, Paige shines brighter than any star ever could and in the dim light Azzi can make out every bit of hurt and love and please can we just have this moment that Paige can’t put into words. 

“Hi,” Azzi whispers softly, hands itching to reach out and caress Paige’s skin. 

“Hi,” Paige says back, even quieter. She stares at Azzi as if she’s memorising every little detail and then her face crumbles. Azzi feels her heart drop at the single tear that trickles down Paige’s cheek as she lets out a broken whimper. And this, this unspoken power they seem to have over each other, the uncanny ability to just hurt each other without any bit of effort, is what scares Azzi the most. It’s too much. They shouldn’t be able to do this. 

“Paige,” Azzi’s fingers twitch but she hesitates, not knowing if it’s the right thing, “fuck- P what’s wrong?”

Paige doesn’t reply, eyes wandering down to where Azzi’s trying to keep her hands still against her sides and when she looks back up, her eyes are bloodshot, “what’s wrong? What’s not wrong Azzi? You won’t even fucking touch me.”

“I didn’t-” Azzi struggles to speak, “I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

“Can you just- fuck- can you just stop overthinking things for once in your life. Of course I want you to touch- you know what nevermind. This was a bad idea. You made yourself clear and I’m just- fuck- I should- I should just go.”

She sounds adamant enough but all it takes, when Paige moves to leave, is the strangled cry that leaves Azzi’s lips. The sound is enough to pull Paige right back in. She takes one look at the tears brimming in Azzi’s eyes. And then she’s pushing Azzi against a wall, hands on either side caging the younger girl between her body and the hard surface behind. She presses their foreheads together and Azzi feels like every part of her might just be a part of Paige too. 

“I miss you. I miss you so fucking much. It’s barely been two weeks and I- fuck- Azzi- I’ve missed you every single second and now you’re here and I still miss you. And it really fucking hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Azzi whispers, finally letting her hands cup Paige’s cheeks, and it’s worth it for the way Paige seems to completely melt into her touch, “I’m sorry I keep hurting you. I keep thinking I’m doing the right thing but- I don’t know- I feel like I’m always doing the wrong thing when it comes to you. I don’t- I don’t know what to do.”

“Just let me be with you,” Paige’s voice is wrecked with desperation as she presses herself as close to Azzi as possible, “I’ll be your whatever- whatever you give me- whatever you want- I just- I just want you Az- whatever little bit you’re willing to give me- I’ll take it- and if you want me to wait- fuck Azzi- I’d wait forever- you know that right? However long it takes, baby. Just want you- just want us.”

Leaps of faith are scary. Azzi’s never been great at taking them, too cautious, too much of a worrier. She’s more of a step back from the cliff kind of person. If she doesn’t jump, she can’t fall. But here’s the thing, when she was fourteen, Azzi jumped off of her first hypothetical cliff. It had been on a plane, when after avoiding one too many deep questions, Azzi had admitted to a girl she barely knew,that maybe she could like girls. It was the first time she’d ever let herself acknowledge that truth about herself and the girl next to her was a stranger but there was something about her, something that screamed i’ll hold your hand and if you jump it’ll never be alone. And ever since then, that girl, Paige, has always been there. Hands outstretched, ready to jump off any ledge. Because if there’s hard ground underneath, then they’ll learn how to fly together and if there’s water, they’ll figure out how to swim. With Paige there has always been the promise that, whatever it is, they’ll figure it out together. And it’s with that promise in mind, that Azzi takes the leap of faith. 

“Me too,” Azzi whispers, heart beating erratically. 

“What?” Paige searches Azzi’s face, as if waiting for her to take it back. 

“Us. You. You and me. I want that too,” a ghost of a smile begins to creep onto Azzi’s face, and for the first time in god knows how long, she feels feather light, a little bit like she’s floating on a rainbow. 

“You mean it?” Paige asks earnestly, hands moving from the wall to clutch at Azzi’s waist, “don’t play-Azzi- okay- you mean it for real?”

“I do. I want this- I want this so much and I’m still- I’m still really scared and maybe it’ll be a disaster but I- I want to try. With you.”

Azzi used to think she knew all of Paige’s smiles. Her small, not quite fake, but only for cameras and people she didn’t quite know, smiles. Her just for my friends smile that was filled with mirth and childlike joy. Her basketball smile that transformed into a smirk when she got too cocky. Her only for Drew smile, soft and filled with so much adoration and pride. Her Azzi smile, the one only the brown-skinned girl gets to experience, a smile that made Azzi’s her heart swell with love. But the smile that stretches across Paige’s face now, is one Azzi’s never seen before. This one throws Azzi’s entire world of balance, so bright, so big, so full of emotions. If she could, she’d tattoo that smile onto her skin forever. 

“We’re really doing this?” Paige asks, still a little stunned. It wasn’t what Azzi had planned for tonight. She hadn’t really had any plans for what would really happen. But then Paige had walked in and all Azzi could see was forever she was tired of fighting against. 

“We should take it slow okay-” Azzi wraps her arms around the older girl’s neck, keeping their foreheads still against each other’s, “I don’t- I don’t wanna rush into things and fuck it up. I can’t- fuck- I can’t lose y-”

“You won’t,” Paige swears, squeezing at Azzi’s wait, “I won’t let you. We can take it slow. We can take it however you want- I just- we’re doing this?”

“Yeah,” Azzi can’t help the grin that fills up her entire face, “yeah we’re doing this.”

And as they surge forward to claim each other’s lips, and as they meld every inch of themselves into each other, and as they smile and cry into the kiss simultaneously, and as they etch promises into each other skin, and as they let themselves finally fall into each other, for each other, it feels a lot like coming home. 

***

July 2024 

The early morning sunlight casts a dark shadow across Paige’s face, causing the still asleep blonde to scrunch up her face in irritation. Azzi, who’s been awake for nearly half an hour now, can’t help the fond smile that creeps onto her own lips. She shifts herself to block the sun and Paige lets out a content sigh, burrowing herself further into her pillows. And the thing is every moment with Paige is special but there’s something about waking up to her in the morning. Azzi’s always awake first and it gives her ample time to just admire the girl in her arms, blond hair tousled all over her pillow, lips parted slightly open, and one arm always, always, splayed across Azzi’s torso, holding her close. Over the course of time, Azzi’s found out that the second she moves, Paige seems to feel her leave, waking up instantly. 

There had been an adjustment period if Azzi's honest. It had taken her a while to shake that fear of Paige not being there in the morning. The first morning, she’d been scared to open her eyes, even if she could feel Paige’s presence right next to her. That had been one of the few mornings that Paige was fully awake first, hovering above Azzi to wake her up. And when she finally did get the courage to open her eyes, the first thing Azzi had seen was Paige, blue eyes sparkling with unfiltered adoration, a smile filled with promises of every morning just like this. And that had been enough. 

Azzi reaches out to brush a hand through Paige’s soft blond hair, mesmerised by how pretty Paige looks in the morning glow. A lot of Paige belongs to the world now and Azzi’s not opposed to sharing really, because someone so fucking perfect, deserves to be celebrated like that. But there are some parts of Paige that belong to Azzi and Azzi only, some parts Azzi cherishes as being only hers. This is one of them and Azzi takes a snapshot of it, knowing she’ll need it to function in a few months, when she won’t get the real thing. 

“Are you watching Paige sleep?” Azzi almost jumps at the sound of Drew’s voice at the doorway, having been too immersed in Paige to have even heard the door open, “that’s kinda creepy Azzi.”

“Jesus Drew, whatever happened to knocking?”

“I forgot?” Drew grins, before he plops on the bed, the force of it making the whole frame shake a little bit. 

“Drew!” Azzi chides, “you’re gonna wake her up.”

Drew cocks his eyebrows, sparing his sister, who seems unphased by the sudden little bit of chaos around her, still fast asleep, an unimpressive look, “please she can sleep through anything. Besides, it’s already 9. I thought we were gonna do things. I been up for aaaages.”

“She’ll be awake soon,” Azzi smiles, ruffling the younger boy's hair. Drew rolls his eyes and it’s remarkable how much he resembles Paige, not just by face, but the mannerisms too. 

He huffs for a second before his eyes sparkle with an idea, “what if we pour water on her!”

“Drew!” Azzi chastises again, trying not to giggle. 

“Boo,” Drew crosses his arms across his chest, “you used to be so cool Azzi.”

Azzi laughs as she’s reminded of a younger version of herself, scheming with Drew on how to wake Paige up. And it’s not that she’s beyond that really, tucking the water idea for a rainy day, but Paige looks too peaceful this morning and she wants to preserve that look of serenity on the older girl’s face for just a little bit longer. 

“Hey Azzi,” Drew says after a while and Azzi hums in response, “when you and Paige get married, I can still be a groomsman right? Even if there’s no grooms?”

“Wha- where did that come from?” the brunette’s eyes widened at the question, sitting up a little straighter. 

Drew peers up at her with all the innocence of a pre-teen, “you are gonna get married right?”

“I don’t-”

“It’s too early for your yapping Drew,” Azzi’s saved from answering by Paige’s tired voice entering the conversation. She looks over to find Paige’s eyes already on her, a soft smile playing on her lips as she looks up at Azzi. If Drew wasn’t sitting right there, Azzi would lean over and kiss her and let Paige deepen it until they were both satisfied. 

“Oh thank god,” Drew cheers dramatically, “I thought you were gonna sleep forever.”

Paige scoffs, the arm that’s still wrapped around Azzi’s torso tightening its hold, “I wish.”

“Well you’re awake now so get up,” Drew whines, moving from his spot on the end of the bed, to flop on top of Paige’s body instead, “get up, get up, GET UP.”

“Get off,” Paige groans but there’s no real force behind it. Azzi watches with a fond smile, as Paige flips Drew over so that she can tickle him, eliciting rounds of laughter from the younger boy. Something in her heart flutters, her mind going back to Drew’s question. She’s never really been one to think too hard about marriage and children and that domestic suburban life, leaving it up to fate, but now- well, maybe. 

“Okay aight aight enough. Go get ready for breakfast and we’ll be down in a second,” Paige says, ushering Drew off of the bed. 

“You can just tell me you want me to leave so you can kiss Azzi you know?” Drew scrunches up his nose, “you two are gross.”

Paige sends him a stern look and gets a dramatic eye roll in return but as he always does, Drew does as he’s told, mock saluting the two of them and skipping out of the room. 

“He’s right by the way,” Paige says softly, turning back to where Azzi’s leaning against the backboard, “I do want to kiss you.”

Azzi smirks lopsidedly, “what’s stopping you?”

She squeals in surprise when Paige pulls her, the force of it causing both of them to tumble onto the front-end of the bed. Azzi ends up on top of Paige, hands resting around her neck, the blonde’s hands holding her waist in place. 

“Good morning,” Paige grins, clearly proud of herself as she chases Azzi’s lips to pull her into a searing kiss.

“Good morning,” Azzi whispers back, thumb caressing Paige’s left cheek.  

“Just so you know,” Paige pulls away, a determined glint in her eyes, “we’re so getting married one day.”

***

October 2024

Azzi’s mood has been rancid for the last couple of weeks. It’s terrible she knows; it makes her irritating to play with and a nightmare to live with. But even if this had been expected, that she would be on one end of the country and her heart would be on the other side, it doesn’t stop her from constantly being in a state of missing Paige. And it’s different from before, now that there’s a certain surety of of course i’ll see you soon but soon never really feels soon enough. 

“Azzi can you please get the door,” Kiki calls from her room when the doorbell rings. 

“I’m busy,” Azzi grunts back, snuggling further into her pillow with a book she isn’t actually reading, “you go get it.”

“Azzi please, I’m literally in the middle of getting dressed,” Kiki yells exasperatedly. 

If it wasn’t for the fact that she’s pretty sure her teammates are about this close to plotting her murder, and deservedly so, Azzi would sink back onto her bed and let the incessant doorbell noise continue. But she does love her teammates, thinks Kiki probably deserves to change in peace, and it forces her out of bed, grumbling away about annoying visitors. Until she actually gets a look at the visitor. Paige stands on the doorstep, confident as ever, a bouquet of roses and peonies and lilies in her hand. 

“You’re here,” Azzi breathes out, staring in awe. 

“And thank fucking god she is,” Kiki quips from behind her, “maybe we can finally get our old happy Azzi back and not this bitch.”

Paige laughs, “watch how you talk about my girl Rice.”

“You’re here. You’re really here,” Azzi whispers again. 

“I heard you missed me baby,” Paige says, her cocky smirk betrayed by the softness in her voice. And then Azzi is flying into her arms, throwing Paige off balance. 

“So fucking much,” Azzi admits into Paige’s neck, eliciting a giggle from the blonde, “Kiki’s right. I have been a bitch.”

“Just a little bit,” Kiki calls out again but there’s a new fondness in her voice. It’s funny how her team, even the haters, have slowly become Paige fans. They’d been hesitant at first, just like the UConn girls, but now well, it seems the basketball world’s Montagues and Capulets have learned to accept their star players’ relationship. 

“Missed you too Az,” Paige’s tone is vulnerable as they break away, “alright, go get changed, I wanna take you somewhere.”

“Or…,” Azzi presses her lips to Paige’s neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses, “we could stay here and do something else.”

Paige shivers under her touch, stepping away to keep some semblance of control “n-no I have plans,” but she can’t help but kiss Azzi’s pout away, “it’ll be worth it, I promise. Besides,” she bites at Azzi’s ear, “there’s always later.”

***

“Your big plans are to bring me to the supermarket,” Azzi cocks an eyebrow as they walk down one of the many aisles, “you turned down sex for this? Should I be offended?”

Paige doesn’t say anything, concentratedly looking at signs, trying to figure out a specific section, before an aha! moment dances over her face, and she pulls Azzi with her, the younger girl going willingly, despite the eye roll. She stops triumphantly in front of the sushi section and Azzi looks at her quizzically. 

“I’m getting you supermarket sushi,” Paige says pointedly, “and then you can get me mac and cheese.”

And if you brought me sushi I’d have brought you your favourite mac and cheese. Oh. The realisation of what Paige is doing trickles around Azzi a little bit like rain after a long summer drought. She thinks back to the bouquet, everything suddenly making sense.

“You’re such a dork Paige Bueckers,” Azzi says softly, tapping the older girl’s nose. 

“Your dork,” Paige grins cheesily, “now hurry up and pick one. I don’t wanna miss the sunset.”

***

Once she catches on it, it doesn’t surprise Azzi to find that Paige has everything planned out perfectly, down to the exact spot in the park- the one by Paige’s recovery airBnB, the one they’d taken countless walks in trying to repair their friendship- where the two of them can be away from everybody else, in their own little bubble. And she has a picnic blanket, that’s a little small but they don’t really want space from each other anyways. They lean against a tree, food set up in front of them, Paige’s laptop, carefully piled on top of a couple of books to be the perfect height, set a little bit further away. 

“So what NBA game are we watching?” Azzi asks with a smile and Paige groans, “what? Was that not part of the plan?”

“Dude come on. It’s the beginning of October. Please tell me you know the NBA season isn’t happening yet,” Paige rubs her temple, only a little endeared by the comment, “are you sure you’re a basketball player?” 

“There are games in October. I swear I’ve seen them before,” Azzi says sceptically. 

“Yeah at the very end of the month, not right now.”

“Well then close enough,” Azzi says indignantly, “I don’t need to know the exact day.”

“Whatever you say baby,” Paige acquiesces with a smirk and it earns her an elbow to the stomach, “what the fuck? That shit’s domestic violence you know?”

“Big words Bueckers, didn’t think you knew them,” Azzi teases, placing a kiss against Paige’s offended expression, before settling herself against the blonde’s side, sighing contentedly when she gets a kiss on her temple in return. They’re cliché enough to put on Love and Basketball, but Azzi doesn’t really end up watching much at all. In between slow kisses, she almost falls asleep a couple of times, the comfort of Paige’s arms like a blanket wrapping her in the warmth of this is my fairytale. 

“THE POLAROID,” Paige’s shout breaks Azzi out of her haze as she feels her body being shaken off, the blonde rummaging through her bag for the camera, “we have to take the polaroid. My wall needs it.”

“Oh yeah a tiny polaroid picture of us inbetween all your Lebron posters, a perfect fit,” Azzi drawls only to be met with a scathing look from Paige. 

“It’s for important things and Lebron is the most important of them all,” Paige explains with complete seriousness, as she finally finds the polaroid camera and shimmies back to Azzi with it in hand. 

The sunset is beautiful. Pink, purple, orange and blue, all blending together to create the perfect picture. But Azzi thinks it’s not nearly as beautiful as the girl in front of her, not nearly as beautiful as the date Paige had planned, not nearly as beautiful as the future she can so clearly see now. Her mind drifts back to the night of the phone call, and she can almost hear Paige’s sobs again, can still hear her own voice breaking. Back then, they had seemed impossible, a butterfly like dream that danced out of their grasp. 

“Hey,” Paige captures her chin with two fingers, “where’d you go?”

Azzi shakes her head, “nowhere. I’m right here. With you. Where I should be.”

“Sappy goof,” Paige snorts but she kisses Azzi like she’ll take those words and hide them in the labyrinth of her mind, protect them there forever. 

Taking the picture is a task, both of them bickering about angles and lights. It’s unnecessary arguing, in true Paige and Azzi fashion really but there’s something so mundanely domestic about it that Azzi finds herself wanting to memorise this moment too. They finally get the frame just right, somewhere in between what they both wanted. Azzi smiles at the camera, her Paige smile, as the blonde in question presses her lips against her cheeks. 

Click. 

And Azzi hopes, that however many years later, when they have a home of their own, amidst all the photos that they’ll take over the next years, this one will be hung somewhere on their wall, a testament to finally realising every dream they’d dared to dream together. 

***

December 2024 

There are pebbles being thrown at her window and Azzi has to stop herself from laughing when she peers down to see Paige, freezing cold in the Virginia December air, staring up at her with a goofy smile. She shakes her head when her phone rings, knowing it’s Paige and answers it with her own foolish grin. 

“What exactly are you doing?” Azzi asks, “come back to bed.”

“You said I was unromantic. I’m trying to be romantic,” Paige’s teeth chatter in the cold, as she balances her phone in one hand, still throwing rocks with the other. 

“I didn’t say that and throwing rocks at my window is supposed to be romantic? You’re going to wake the whole house up.”

“That’s what they do in all the good rom coms. And you said and I quote ‘we’re kind of boring’. You might be boring Azzi Fudd but I most definitely am not.”

It had been a throwaway comment Azzi had made at dinner with some friends from high school. One of her friends had been going on and on about some adventurous trip that she and her boyfriend were going on, and then asked Paige and Azzi if they had any of that planned. To which Azzi had replied that they were a little too busy, considering they were college basketball players still in season, and besides they were “kind of boring” people. She hadn’t meant it in any type of way. Personally, Azzi likes boring. Paige however, seemed to have taken the comment to heart and Azzi had woken up at 2 a.m. to an empty bed and the sound of something being thrown at her window. 

“Okay I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You're really interesting baby and the most romantic person in the world. Now will you please come back to bed,” Azzi concedes, already missing the feeling of being cuddled up in her blankets with Paige’s body heat keeping her nice and toasty. 

“No,” Paige says indignantly, “come down here.”

“Paige, it's freezing. It’s gonna start snowing any minute.”

“Exactly. That’s exciting.”

“Sleep is exciting,” Azzi whines, but she’s already padding around her room looking for a warm sweater, grumbling under her breath about the warm California sun she’s missing. She tiptoes down the staircase, wincing at the one step that creaks just a little too much, before pushing herself out the door. And it’s freezing cold, there’s sleep in her eyes, but it’s all worth it Azzi thinks, it’ll always be worth it, just to experience Paige’s smile. 

“Knew you’d come,” Paige grins cockily, mittened hands pulling Azzi into her.

“Yeah yeah. What are we even doing?”

“Azzi Fudd,” Paige bellows dramatically, “may I have this dance.”

Azzi stares at Paige’s outstretched hand wondering if this is some sort of cry for help, but one look at Paige’s face tells her that the girl in front of her is being absolutely serious. 

“This is your idea of exciting? Dancing in the street while it’s freezing with no music?” Azzi raises an eyebrow, but she takes Paige’s hand. 

“It’s spontaneous,” Paige says the last word with a flourish, as she spins Azzi, “why not dance in the street when it’s freezing with no music?”

And well, that’s a fair point. If anyone were to look out their window that night, they’d probably think the two girls were somewhat crazy. Laughing and giggling and tripping over each other as Paige hums a melody and Azzi occasionally joins in. It’s ridiculous and corny and cliché and perfect. And then the first little bit of snow falls, white drops circling around the two dancing girls, snowflakes catching on their eyelashes. The dim glow of the streetlight is enough to catch identical smiles on the two girl’s faces as they revel in each other. 

“You know some people say if you make a wish during the first snowfall, it’ll come true,” Paige whispers, still waltzing the two of them around, cheek pressed to Azzi’s, “you wanna try?”

And the thing is Azzi doesn’t really believe in all of that, in magic but something about Paige, something about this moment feels magical. It makes a believer out of Azzi. 

“Yeah,” Azzi smiles, “let’s make a wish.”

They stand still, holding hands, eyes closed, both a little breathless, as they make their wishes. And when they open them, if it feels a little bit like maybe their wishes have already been granted, well they’ll share it in a secret smile but never out loud. After all, wishes don’t come true if you speak of them. 

***

April 2025

7 seconds to go in the National Championship and Azzi’s UCLA Bruins are down by two points. It’s her last chance, having already declared for the 2025 WNBA draft, to win a national championship, to bring home their first basketball national championship since the 1978 team that had won the AIAW championship, to win their first NCAA championship ever. It had taken some sheer luck to get to this point if Azzi’s honest. As a two-seed in the Spokane region, they’d benefitted from their one-seed having been eliminated early and then getting to face a Cinderella six-seed in the final four. On the other side of the bracket, UConn, the favourites coming for a repeat, had been stunned by another team, the team that UCLA was now facing. That had caused a bit of a second-hand sting and Azzi’s not really trying to take revenge for Paige, but it'd be a lie to say the get back at them for me babe from earlier this morning isn’t ringing in her head. 

The play is simple, set screens for Azzi, get her open, get her the ball. A two would get them to a tie and three would win it outright. Either will do. It’s a little too reminiscent of last year when Azzi had failed at tying the final 4 game and she can still feel that loss on the tips of her fingers. They break out from their last timeout, breathlessly running to their spots on the floor. The whistle blows, Kiki inbounds the ball and everything is a blur. All Azzi knows is the shot clock is winding down. She runs off of what feels like a million screens. And then she’s open on the wing, for a millisecond. A perfect pass from Kiki makes sure the ball lands straight in Azzi’s hand. And she doesn’t think, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t even notice the defender put up a hand, she shoots the ball. There’s two people on the court that know for sure that ball is going in the minute it leaves Azzi’s fingers, the shooter herself and her biggest fan in the stands, who’s been just a little bit in love with that shooting stroke, since before anything else had even begun. 

With a delicate swish, the ball falls through the net, the buzzer sounds around the arena, the crowd explodes in blue and gold, as the UCLA Bruins win the 2025 national championship. 

Everything stills in Azzi’s brain for a second, her thoughts taking a second to catch up to reality. She’s never really been one to emotion on the court, keeping herself steely guarded through most games, even at the very end. But now, triumph and pride and just utter happiness at finally achieving one of her biggest dreams, comes roaring to the surface, manifesting itself throughout her entire body, as she lets out a scream of joy. Her teammates engulf her and she gets lost in a sea of hugs and tears and bright, decadent smiles. 

As thing start to calm down, there’s really only one thing on Azzi’s mind and Paige’s words echo in her ears, because if I’m gonna end up fucking crying, then I want it to be on your shoulder. And if I’m gonna end up celebrating, I want it to be in your arms. And Azzi thinks maybe Paige had discovered one of the biggest truths of their life with that, the truth that at the end of day, in any moment, big or small, happy or sad, the one person Azzi wants next to her, is her Paige. It’s been that way since she was fourteen, and too young to really understand the meaning of wanting someone forever, and she thinks if she has her way, it’ll be like that for the rest of her life, the rest of their life. 

Paige is beaming in the crowd, standing next to Jon and José, a #35 jersey proudly adorning her torso. She waves when she catches Azzi’s eyes, always her biggest cheerleader. And Azzi throws caution to the wind, fuck it, not caring that there’s still a large crowd or that cameras are likely to follow her every move. She pushes her way into the stands, stopping right in front of the blonde. 

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad would kissing you right now be?” Azzi asks, still a little breathless. 

A myriad of emotions flicker through Paige’s face before settling on a mischievous smirk, “probably pretty bad but you should do it anyways.”

Azzi grins before merging their lips together and everything else fades to the background, until she’s consumed by nothing but Paige. They break apart far quicker than either of them would like and Azzi expects to feel just a little bit of fear at what she’s just done, likely given the media a spectacle they could run a million and one stories about but instead, with her forehead still pressed against Paige’s, she feels nothing but calm. 

“I’m so in love with you,” Azzi whispers and Paige’s eyes widen. They’ve known it for a while now but it’s the first time either of them have said it. 

“Say it again,” Paige demands. 

“I’m so in love with you,” Azzi says again, grinning so hard, she thinks it might become her permanent expression, “like really fucking in love with you.”

“I’m so in love with you,” Paige whispers, pulling Azzi into a bone-crushing hug. 

And this might not be the moment where everything finally comes together. There’s still so much life left to live, so much that they still need to work through, so much they’ve yet to deal with. But for now, Azzi has a national championship and she has the love of her life, the rest will work itself out, or so she hopes.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

[your-averagewriter]

“I’m gonna marry this woman.”

Summary: Cooper has a job to get to and (y/n) ends up looking after Janey for him when Barb isn't free leading him to realise that she's the woman for him.

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: swearing, kissing, saying God not in the religious way (blasphemy I guess)

-

-

Cooper wraps his arm around my waist as we walk through the park, Janey holding his hand on the other side. Cooper and I have been dating for over a year and at the start he tried to keep our relationship separate from Janey as he didn’t want to make it too overwhelming for her after the divorce but now it’s been a while since we were officially introduced.

“There’s an ice cream truck over there.” I point out. “Janey, do you want some ice cream?” I ask, looking over to her.

“Yeah!” She smiles.

“Coop, do you want one?” I ask and he shakes his head. 

“You girls treat yourselves.” He says and then a ringtone comes from one of his pockets. “It’s work, I’ll be right back.” He gets his phone out and looks at who it is before walking a little bit away.

“Come on, Janey.” I invite. “Let’s get some ice cream.” I say as she takes my hand, which always makes my heart warm a little. “What flavour would you like?”

She examines the board of ice cream flavours before announcing her choice. “Toffee, please.”

“Good choice.” I smile, before walking up to the ice cream stand and buying her toffee ice cream and a strawberry one for myself. “There you go. Don’t drop it.” I pass it to her gently as she takes it and we walk over to a bench, sitting down and waiting for Coop to finish his call.

“What’s daddy doing?” She asks, enjoying the ice cream.

“Oh, he just got a call from work, maybe a new acting role.” I say and she smiles. “He should be back soon.”

“Did you know I used to act with daddy sometimes in the ads he used to do?” She says proudly.

“Oh really? Wow, you’re a little superstar.” I smile, Cooper walking back over not long after.

“How was the call?” I ask, as he walks over. “Any good news?”

“Mixed. Mixed.” He repeats.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, the good news is they wanna hire me.”

“That’s great, Coop.” I interrupt, jumping to my feet and wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug with a bright smile.

“You haven’t heard the bad news yet.” He warns, pulling back with a slightly frown. “They need me on set in an hour to sort out some sizing and contract stuff.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I ask.

“I already called Barb and she can’t take Janey for the afternoon so I can’t go.”

“I could look after Janey for you.” I offer.

“I can’t ask you to do that.” He says.

“You’re not asking, I’m insisting. If you’re okay with it of course.” I smile as his hands find their place on my waist.

“If that’s alright…” He gives in after a few moments with a hint of a smile. “God, I love you, woman.” He says, pressing a kiss to my lips with a full grin now. “I’ll go check with Janey, if that’s alright. I’m sure she won’t have a problem with it, she adores you but I should anyway.” I nod, letting him go.

“I’ve got a job I gotta go to, sweetheart and mommy can’t look after you for the afternoon. Is it alright if I take you girls home and you stay with (y/n) for a little while?” She nods quickly with a smile, a resounding yes making Cooper chuckle.

“I think that’s a yes, (y/n).” I laugh.

“Let’s go then, we don’t want you to be late.” I say with a smile.

---

“I should be back around 5:00, 6:00 at the latest.” He reassures me.

“Babe, don’t worry about it, we’ll be fine, take as long as you need.” I press a kiss to his cheek. “Good luck. We’ll see you later.” I press a kiss to his other cheek and wave with Janey as he drives away. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go inside. What do you wanna do?” I ask, taking her hand as we go inside. 

“I wanna show you my room and my stuff.” She drags me towards her room, picking up various toy cowboys and horses that they ride. “You have so much cowboy stuff? Does your dad buy them for you?”

“Yeah. We’ve got matching cowboy outfits.” She says before diving into her draws and pulling out two matching outfits, one clearly an adult’s size whilst the other fits Janey. She begins to put it on above her clothes and I drop the cowboy hat on her head gently. “You should put daddy’s one on so we can match!”

“Really? You don’t think he’d mind that I was stealing his clothes?” I tease with a small smile.

“Isn’t that his jumper you're wearing?” She giggles.

“I guess you're right, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” I say, putting the outfit on until we look like matching cowboys.

After a while of playing, I make some food for the both of us and a portion in the microwave for Cooper as it nears the time he said he would be home. Some tomato pasta that we eat while still wearing cowboy outfits. I chuckle as Janey gets some of the pasta sauce around her mouth, passing her one of the tissues to wipe her mouth with.

Cooper stands outside, about to open the door but looks through the window seeing Janey and I eating the pasta. A smile almost fills his face as he tries to cover his smile, mumbling to himself.

“I’m gonna marry this woman.” He whispers, sounding more like a stereotypical cowboy than ever before opening the door and walking in. “How’re my two favourite girls doing?” He grins as Janey runs towards him as he opens his arms to hug her.

He mimes the tipping of a cowboy hat at me with a small smirk and I shake my head, silently saying ‘don’t ask’ but smiling softly.

“How did the job go?” I ask, walking over to him by the door, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Good, first role I’ve got in a while.” He mumbles. “Just an ad but everything counts.”

“I’m so proud of you.” I smile, hugging him tightly, Janey doing the same despite not entirely understanding the context.

---

Cooper pours two glasses of wine, expensive wine, a celebration if you will after Janey’s gone to bed. Janey went to sleep in the cowboy outfit and made me promise not to take mine off so, being a loyal woman, I happily keep it on.

“Cheers to you, baby.” I smile, lifting my glass into the air as he does the same, clinking the glasses.

“Cheers.” He laughs, taking a sip before putting his glass back down on the coffee table. “I wanna ask you something and you gotta promise not to freak out.” 

I’m intrigued, sitting on the edge of my seat already smiling slightly but nervous. “Is it bad?” I ask, the anticipation now killing me.

“Nah, nothing bad, sweetheart, I promise.”

“Okay. I can’t promise I won’t freak out but I’ll try not to.” I say, watching him intently as he leans before kneeling on the ground in front of me. “Cooper, what are you doing?” I laugh with a smile. “Get up, you’ll spill the wine!” 

He kneels with one leg up, the other against the floor.

“(y/n) (l/n).” He starts and I’m still confused by what he’s doing. “I don’t have a ring but I thought this was the perfect moment to ask, will you marry me?”

I stand up, hand over my mouth, entirely shocked as I look down at him smiling up at me.

“Cooper, this better not be a fucking joke.” I warn, tears collecting in my eyes as I look down at his serious yet smiling face.

“It’s not, darlin’ I promise. After seeing you with Janey today, dressed up as cowboys making her pasta I just knew you were the one for me. I only regret not getting you a ring and asking you sooner.” He grins.

I stand absolutely frozen, standing up in front of him as a tear goes down my cheek.

“Why would you propose to me while I’m dressed like a cowboy?” Is the first thing I say, slightly muffled by my hand and he just laughs.

“I had to.” He kneels before me, without a ring but with all the right words. “Will you marry me?”

“Yeah, yeah, Coop, of course.” I say, overwhelmed with emotions, happiness being the dominant one but tears still in my eyes. “Oh my god.” I say as he rises to his feet wrapping his arms around me as I wrap my arms around his neck, as close as we could possibly get. “I can’t believe you.” I mumble into his shoulder.

“I love you so so much and so does Janey, you’re just so perfect for me.” He says and I could swear I hear a voice crack.

“I love you too. I can’t believe you though. What am I gonna say when people ask what the proposal was like? That I was dressed like a cowboy?” 

“I think you’re worrying about the wrong things right now, sweetheart.” He chuckles.

“I know. I can’t even begin to process the fact we’re getting married.” I press a kiss to the side of his neck. “Oh my god, I love you. I love you. I love you.” I place a kiss for everytime I say ‘I love you’ and he just smiles, taking the kisses.

“I must be the happiest man in the world right now.” He says with a grin as wide as his face.

-

AN: I hope people aren't getting bored of Fallout fics because I am not.

#cooper howard #fallout #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x y/n #cooper howard x yn #cooper howard x you #fallout x reader #fallout x y/n #fallout x yn #fallout x you #cooper howard fanfiction #fallout fanfiction #fallout fanfic #x reader #x yn #x you #x y/n #fallout show

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [20] - Nightclub

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Business deals are open to negotiation.  

Word Count: 2600

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

“Unbelievable,” you muttered to yourself, scratching at Alpine’s head with one hand while holding your phone with the other, your eyes skimming the lines. “Seriously…”

Bucky sipped his coffee. “Care to share with the class, Charm?”

You heaved a sigh and shot him a look, holding up the phone so that he could see the screen.

“Clint leaves the city for a couple of days and HYDRA immediately attacks his territory?” you asked and Bucky hummed.

“I mean he had his people covering it,” he said. “Just because he wasn’t here, doesn’t mean it was open to any attack.”

“Which makes it worse,” you told him with a sigh, then reached out for the jar of peanut butter to dip a spoon into it. “How many sources do these guys have?”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Bucky said, reaching out to run his fingers through Alpine’s soft fur as she meowed at him. “You’re coming to the club tonight, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Your phone buzzed in your hand and you took a look at the notification, then licked your lips.

“Buck.”

“Hm?”

“So you know how our therapist said open communication is very important?”

“I don’t trust the therapist.”

“Shocking,” you deadpanned. “Anyway, I’m meeting Ethan today for lunch.”

Bucky let out a groan before he threw his head back. “Charm…”

“This is me openly communicating.”

“This is you throwing a knife at me and calling it communication,” Bucky corrected you, making your jaw drop.

“It’s not!”

“I will ask this question once again; why are you meeting your ex who wants to fuck you?”

“That’s not—I know the idea isn’t familiar to you, but some people can be friends with their exes.”

“So it’d be fine if I met up with one of my exes for lunch?” he asked and you shrugged your shoulders, trying to ignore the unpleasant flip your stomach did.

“If you can find an ex who doesn’t want to kill you?” you said. “Go ahead.”

He scoffed. “Not all of them hate me.”

“Is the ex who doesn’t hate you in the room with us right now?” you asked back and he made a face.

“I don’t know who fed you those lies, I’m guessing Becca—”

“Becca is very objective when it comes to your exes,” you pointed out. “And how terrible you are in relationships.”

“I’m not terrible in relationships.”

“Did you stay friends with any of your exes?”

“Yeah!”

“Give me a name.”

He blinked a couple of times and cleared his throat. “…Dot.”

“Dot hates your guts, Buck.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know she dumped you,” you said and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“It was a mutual decision.”

“It really wasn’t,” you said. “You do realize that I’ve been best friends with your sister since I was in kindergarten? I know everything about your terrible relationships.”

“To repeat, they’re not—don’t change the subject,” he said as you sipped your coffee. “Your ex?”

“My ex does not want to kill me like your exes or fuck me like you seem to think.”

“Oh he wants to marry you then?” he asked and even though you knew he was being sarcastic, your stomach did a flip. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, I beat him to it.”

You clicked your tongue as you dipped your spoon in the peanut butter jar again.

“As much as I enjoy you referring to me like I’m the last piece of cake,” you deadpanned. “I will make sure both your dick and you regret it the next time you do that.”

He blinked a couple of times and you gave him a bright grin, then popped the spoon into your mouth, then pulled it out to point at him with it.

“See?” you asked him. “Open communication. Therapy works wonderfully for this relationship.”

                                                  *

“Tell me I didn’t make you wait for long,” Ethan said as he rushed into the café and you let out a laugh, then stood up to kiss his cheek.

“I just got here, no worries,” you said. “Ordered your coffee though.”

“You know my coffee order?”

“Yeah,” you said and made a face at him. “Terrible order but yeah. Burned into my mind.”

That made him smile as he sat down.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I was going to come sooner but—”

“Let me guess, your boss?”

“One of these days, that man will get in an accident that I’ve been hoping and praying for,” he told you, making you laugh.

“That’s doable,” you said. “I told you before.”

He heaved a sigh. “Stop. Right now, I feel like taking you up on that offer.”

“You can.”

He frowned, then shook his head.

“No no,” he said. “I’ve watched too many movies about this.”

“I’m not going to put a horse head in your bed, Ethan.”

“No, not that!” he said, letting out a chuckle. “Power corrupts.”

You shrugged again. “Nah it doesn’t.”

“It would corrupt me,” he told you as the waitress brought your coffees. “How about you? How’s uh…how’s marriage?”

Your eyes snapped to his and you cleared your throat, shifting in your seat.

“Ethan, if it’s going to lead to yet another—”

“It won’t,” he cut you off and offered you a small smile. “Don’t worry. I got the message.”

A silence fell upon you. You could feel your stomach doing a flip at the implication of what he had said and even though you actually wanted to talk about it, you knew you couldn’t.

Now to think of it…

You weren’t sure if you could even get together with him after your divorce. The idea was tempting yes, but you weren’t sure he could handle the life the job brought with it. While you and Bucky could torture an agent of HYDRA and then get takeout afterwards, doing the same wasn’t possible with Ethan and—

Strangely enough, you found yourself wondering whether you could still do it with Bucky after you two would get a divorce.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up and you cleared your throat, then smiled at him.

“Sorry,” you said. “Blanked out for a second. You were saying?”

                                                   *

Opening night of a club, especially if it was in Barnes, Wilson or Rogers territories, was always so much fun that even when you were teenagers, you and Becca would sneak into them, most of the time to get caught by Steve. Now that you were a grown up, you still enjoyed them but you also knew what was happening in the background.

It was the perfect time to make deals.

The crowd, the music, the alcohol, it all served its purpose to make better deals without getting the weapons or threats involved. Not to mention, getting invited to the opening night showed respect to whoever was a part of any negotiation.

You took a sip of your drink and leaned back on the sofa, keeping your eyes on Mr. Clifford. He was one of the new players in town, but powerful enough to be invited to your -well, Bucky’s- VIP booth tonight. If this deal worked, he could make the shipments to your territory much smoother but the problem was, neither you nor Bucky could decide whether you could trust him or not.

He had good references, but he was still sort of a mystery.

“I wasn’t aware you would be here as well, Mrs. Barnes,” Mr. Clifford said. “So the word on the street is true?”

“What word?” you asked and he smiled.

“That you’re…not just a guest?”

Bucky raised his brows and shot you a small grin while you shrugged your shoulders.

“No, I’m not.”

“She’s the only one I trust,” Bucky said and you smirked, reaching out to hold his hand. Mr. Clifford nodded.

“I see,” he said. “And um—if you don’t mind me ask, will it affect any deals I may make with your father?”

“You will have to ask my father that,” you said. “I hear he’s not open to any new deals but you can try your chances.”

He hummed. “And his heir, Ian?”

Your jaw clenched but you managed to keep your expression flat while Bucky squeezed your hand as if trying to assure you.

“Ian hasn’t been named yet,” he said. “And either way, if you’re making deals with heirs, I may have to rethink my decision to do business with you. Are you that much of an amateur?”

“Bucky.”

“No, I’m not going to do business with him if he’s making deals with people who can’t sit at the grown-ups table.” 

“I assure you, that’s not the case,” Mr. Clifford said. “I was just voicing my curiosity, that’s all.”

You downed your drink and leaned in to whisper into Bucky’s ear.

“I’ll be right back,” you said. “Don’t shoot him?”

“No promises,” he murmured and you tried to bite back your smile, then grabbed your purse and stood up to make your way through the dance floor to the bathroom. When you stepped out again, your eyes fell upon Ryan who was by the bar and you smiled to yourself, then approached the bar as well.

“I think you’re the only person who drinks water at a club opening,” you said, making him turn his head and he blinked a couple of times as if he was surprised to see you, then looked down at the glass in his hand.

“Ma’am,” he said, taking a sip of his water and you tilted your head.

“Let me guess,” you said. “Ian told you to be completely sober just in case?”

“It’s my idea, ma’am.”

“Where’s he?”

“In the VIP room there,” he motioned at the closest room and you pulled your brows together.

“And he sent you away?”

Ryan sipped his drink in silence and you heaved a sigh.

“Does he know that keeping his right arm out of deals is a terrible idea?”

“I’m just his bodyguard ma’am, nothing more.”

You pursed your lips together and cleared your throat.

“You might as well dance with someone, you know,” you joked. “If he’s going to be there alone, no need for you to get bored.”

The look of complete terror on his face at the suggestion was almost funny. He was a huge guy, and you were pretty sure he could crush someone’s skull with his bare hands if he wanted to, but he looked absolutely terrified at the idea of dancing with someone at the club.

“I’m a great wing-woman,” you told him, making him blink a couple of times. “Anyone caught your attention?”

“Ma’am I—I wouldn’t—” he stammered and you waved a hand in the air.

“And how many times should I tell you to call me Y/N?” you asked and he licked his lips, staring at you.

“I don’t mean disrespect.”

“I don’t think it’s disrespect,” you told him and out of the corner of your eye, you saw the waiter leaving your VIP room mutter something at one of Clifford’s bodyguards by the door before walking away. You frowned.

“Excuse me,” you said as you made your way to the fire exit the waiter walked into. You looked over your shoulder and pulled the small pistol out of your purse, then pushed open the door quietly to step into the hallway.

The waiter was too busy to notice your presence as he pulled a gun out of the cleaning bucket in front of him, but he froze when he heard the sound of you cocking the gun.

“Hi,” you said and he gritted his teeth, raising his hands. “Put the gun down.”

He slowly put the gun down and you smiled.

“There you go,” you said. “Good boy.”

“What are you doing?” he asked as he turned to you and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I mean I’m trying to enjoy my night to be honest but…”

“Just walk away.”

You scoffed.

“Right,” you said. “That’s gonna happen.”

“If you walk away now, you’ll benefit from it,” he said. “Mr. Clifford says if Barnes dies, you could take over his territory, his business. It’ll be your right.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Well yeah but also if Bucky dies, I’ll have to wear black and I can’t really pull off black dresses,” you said. “Becca says it has something to do with my undertone—”

You didn’t get to finish your sentence when he lunged to throw a punch at you but you caught his hand and twisted it, making him cry out in pain. You headbutted him right in the nose, hearing the crack of the bone before you grabbed the bigger pistol on the floor to slam it against his head, causing him to drop to the floor unconscious.

“This night is getting more and more fun,” you murmured as you shook your head, then pushed your pistol back into your purse. You made your way to the door again to open it, then approached Ryan to tap him on the shoulder.

“Can I borrow you for a moment?” you asked and turned around without waiting for him to answer, but he followed you anyway until you got to the hallway and opened the door. Ryan grabbed his gun from his waistband the moment he saw the unconscious guy lying on the floor, then turned to you.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” he asked, stepping into the hallway with his gun ready as if he was checking for any threats. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not at all,” you said. “Keep an eye on him until I get back.”

His back straightened immediately like he was a soldier and you were his commander. “Yes ma’am.”

“And if Ian says anything,” you said. “This happened in Barnes territory, he’s our hostage. No one else’s.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You nodded your head and took a step to the door, then turned around.

“And thank you, Ryan,” you said, making him pull his brows together in confusion as if he wasn’t used to hearing it. “I appreciate it.”

He swallowed thickly, then nodded.

“Ma’am,” he said and you pushed open the door, then made your way to the VIP room Bucky was in.

“As I was saying, our price isn’t…” Clifford stopped talking when he saw you walk inside. “Ah Mrs. Barnes, welcome back.”

You shot him a fake smile, then leaned in closer to Bucky so that you could whisper into his ear.

“He’s trying to kill you.”

Bucky’s gaze snapped to yours when you pulled back and he heaved a sigh as if he was exhausted, then ran a hand over his eyes.

“Great,” he muttered. “Do you want to stay and watch, sweetheart?”

You thought for a moment, then shook your head.

“I got one of his men, I’ll be by the fire exit,” you murmured. “Come there when you’re done?”

“Sure thing.”

“What’s going on?” Clifford asked and you turned to shoot him a glare before pecking Bucky on the cheek.

“Have fun!”

“I will,” Bucky said and motioned at one of the bodyguards. “Paul, escort my wife to where she’s going.”

“Yes Mr. Barnes.”

“And Hannah,” Bucky’s voice was completely calm. “Lock the room down.”

“Mr. Barnes, please—” Clifford’s voice was cut off when the door shut behind you and Bucky’s bodyguards started dragging Clifford’s men away while you turned to Paul with a sigh.

“How fucking rude, right?”

“Ma’am?”

“I mean honestly…” you muttered while you walked to the fire exit with Paul following you. “Sending an amateur to kill him? People today have no manners.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mob! bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky barnes #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky #mob boss!bucky #mob boss bucky barnes #mob au #mob!au #bucky barnes x you

[carmenized-onions]

Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life—                    Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

 You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “Let’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.   

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear x you #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto imagine

[treason-and-plot]

At the other end of the table Helene gives a gentle laugh and spears a glistening piece of steak with her fork. Tom takes a long drink from his beer glass, as if toasting his own wit. Connor sets his fork down on his plate. Saffron tries to make eye contact with him but he is staring at the wooden salt and pepper shakers, his jaw clenched.

“That's not true at all,” Saffron says to Tom. "Why would you even say that?"

“Saff, it's okay," says Connor. “Dad just thinks he's being funny. Don't worry about it."

“All I'm trying to say is that Helene and I are exceedingly grateful to you for all you've done for Connor this term," says Tom. He bestows his shark-like smile upon her once again, but she doesn't smile back. “I meant academically, but I’m sure you’ve helped him in myriad other ways as well. We’ve noticed a lot of positive changes, haven’t we Helene?"

“Oh, definitely,” says Helene.

“What are you talking about? You wouldn't notice if I grew two heads,” says Connor.

“Watch the attitude, son,” says Tom. His tone is pleasant, and sends a small shiver down Saffron's spine.  

“I'm glad to hear that you think I'm a positive influence, because I was paranoid you'd think I was a bad influence after I made Connor skip school with me the other day," says Saffron. Tom looks at her blankly, his eyebrows raised.

“I didn’t hear anything about this,” says Tom. “Did you, Hel?”

“I think I may have received a voicemail or an email from the school, now that you mention it,” Helene says. “I probably just assumed it was a message asking me to donate to the second-hand uniform sale or something.”

“Wow," says Saffron. “My mother went off her head.”  

“Saffron’s mother is a police officer,” Helene tells Tom, as if this is the sole explanation for her reaction.

“Ah,” says Tom. “And what does your father do, Saffron?”

“Here we go,” mutters Connor.

“He operates a chain of childcare centres,” says Saffron.

“Really,” says Helene. “What's the name of his business?”

“Little Sprouts,” says Saffron. Both Helene and Tom make noises signifying their recognition and approval. 

“Oh, I’ve heard they’re doing very well!” Helene says. “Didn’t he just open several more centres?”

“Yeah, he’s got five now,” says Saffron.

“Does he use an accountancy firm?” says Tom. Connor mutters something under his breath.

“I think Mireille- his girlfriend- does all the accounting,” says Saffron.

“There’s a wise saying that I like to tell my clients, Saffron,” says Tom. “And that saying is: 'It’s not the money that matters, it’s how you use it that determines its true value'.”

He pauses for effect.

“Woah. Interesting,” Saffron deadpans while Connor stifles a loud yawn. Helene narrows her eyes at him.

“Now, I’m sure your Dad’s girlfriend is more than competent in the area of bookkeeping and handling the payroll and the rest of the basics, but how up to date is she with the latest tax laws?” says Tom. “Does she know how to forecast cash flow? Does she realise the importance of accurate record keeping? Does she have access to the most up-to-date accounting software, which will enable she and your father to maximise business efficiency and productivity?” 

"I have no idea," says Saffron sweetly. "But I'm guessing you do, right?"

#Saffron #Connor #helene #Tom Brownlee #5 years later #back to Bridgeport #sims 3 #ts3 #sims 3 story

[salty-an-disco]

(Explore) “What's your name?”

The princess pulls back, looking a bit confused by the question. Then, she squints lightly.

“Why do you need to know?”

Voice of the Hero: Geez, we just asked for her name. No need to go to the defensive.

…

…

…

Voice of the Hero: Uhm. Aren’t you going to keep describing?

There’s not much to describe, the princess is simply looking at you expectantly. Aren’t you going to say something to her?

…

…

…

…

Hm. Weird. This is usually the part where you’re given the option to say something else– unless… you don’t want to leave this branch of conversation yet?

Voice of the Hero: ……I guess we can keep asking about her name?

“C’mon, I just asked your name! That’s a pretty standard conversation topic, right?”

Voice of the Hero: Oh. It worked!

Huh. Fascinating… a bit bothersome that you can also just interject in the middle of the narration like this, but fascinating nonetheless.

“Well, this isn’t really a standard conversation location, is it?”

Voice of the Hero: OK, she’s got a point there. I guess I also wouldn’t want to just sit around and make small talk while trapped in a basement.

You could tell her your name first. That way, you can build rapport and make her comfortable enough to share her own name. Building rapport and showing your non-threatening nature is a great way to thread a social interaction.

Voice of the Hero: That’s… not a bad idea, actually. Tell our name first, then she might feel better about sharing hers!

…

…

…

…

…

Voice of the Hero: Do we…… know our name?

If you’re asking me, the new guy who knows nothing about you except for what’s in this script, then I’m going to go on a wild limb and say you very probably don’t.

Voice of the Hero: But– We have to have a name, right? Everyone has a name!

It is a very useful tool for communication and categorizing civilizations have been using for ages, yes.

Voice of the Hero: So, what does that mean? We hit our head on the way here or something?

Well–

“…are you… OK?”

Look, names aren’t always necessary. Sometimes, just your role in the narrative is enough. Take me, for instance, I don’t need any other moniker but my role as ✨The Narrator✨.

“…can you even listen? Is this name thing really that important to you?”

Voice of the Hero: I guess… though not having an actual name to be called by is so weird.

I can start calling you Stanley, if it makes you feel better.

Voice of the Hero: It makes me feel worse, actually.

“OK, fine! I don’t know my name!”

The princess snaps, forcing your attention out of your own head and back to her.

Voice of the Hero: Oh. Oops. My bad.

She looks worked up; her face set in a glare, though there’s some nervousness to how her eyes flick about your face.

…

Voice of the Hero: We… could tell her we also don’t remember our name?

“If it makes you feel better, I also don’t remember my name.”

The Princess’ features soften. Her posture relaxs as she regards you once again.

“Huh. I wonder what that means.”

Voice of the Hero: Me too. Seems too coincidental that we both wouldn't know our names.

Feels like we’re more like her than anything else. Makes the whole ‘we have to slay her’ business all the more weird, doesn’t it?”

This conversation has been really nice and all, but I must urge you to progress now to progress from this branch. Or else how can the story continue?

Voice of the Hero: Right… Sorry again for losing track of things.

Yes, quite unprofessional of you.

Voice of the Hero: OK, no need to be so condescending.

Not without meaning though, seems like you forged something of a connection with the princess. Wonder how that’ll affect the story……

But anyhow, we dawdled for long enough, it’s nigh time for you to progress the story.

Voice of the Hero: Agreed. I think the princess waited long enough. Time to make your choice.

#Displaced Narrator AU #tsp narrator #voice of the hero #stp princess #stp protagonist #slay the princess #the stanley parable #choose your own adventure #sal writes #polls

[neerons]

Some of Nokto Klein’s best quotes

“You smell so good, as usual. Good enough to eat.” (—Nokto’s thoughts about Emma)

“I wanted to take her back to my room right then and there and slowly, leisurely lavish her with pleasure until she lay exhausted in my bed (...)”  (—Nokto’s thoughts about Emma)

“Don't you think you ought to get some sort of reward for all that pain?” (—Nokto to Licht)

“A long, long time ago, you protected me. Don't you think it's my turn to protect you now?” (—Nokto to Licht)

“I already knew this about me, but... you're quite the schemer too, aren't you?”

"You really think it's fine to be brutally honest about everything and anything, don't you?"

“Deciphering cryptograms is outside my realm of expertise. That guy has absolutely terrible handwriting. It's so bad that he can't even read it himself once he's written it.” (—Nokto talking about Clavis to Emma)

“Oh it’s nothing. My only regret is that I didn’t sock the man.” (—Nokto talking about a random man to Emma)

"I love you. I want to hug you, and kiss you, and ruin you in bed."

"(...) I think your strong point is how short you are, Evie. (...) It's touching to think that you're still expecting a growth spurt, despite being older than me." (—Nokto to Yves)

"You've been avoiding Licht, right? He's really down in the dumps about it, you know. You're not trying to friendzone him, are you?" (—Nokto to Emma in Licht’s story event)

"Not only is she quite the bookworm, she also used to work at a bookstore. I'm willing to bet that you'll never even read half the titles that she has. You couldn't ever keep up with her." (—Nokto talking about Emma to a random man)

“You're so pretty, but you ruin it by pulling those grumpy faces all the time.”

"Well, I guess that explains why a woman as pretty as you is still single."

"You know, I think I like this whole waking up with you at my side thing."

"I happened to be talking to Licht, and he asked me about it, so I did a little investigating. Just because." (—Nokto talking about doing Licht a favor to Leon and Emma)

"And here I was, hoping for a chance to experience the famous Belle slap that so impressed Sariel."

"Hey, what would you do if both Licht and I tried to court you at the same time? Who would you choose?"

"I'll stay close to you and make sure you don't get involved with any bad guys. As bad guy number one, I know all the signs, after all."

"Emma is more precious to me than anything else in the world, and I love her from the bottom of my heart." (—Nokto's thoughts)

"I mean, you not only waited for me, you readied a place for me to come home to. You're the perfect woman for me."

"Given the situation, I'm at a loss, really. I can't decide whether I want Emma or the throne." (—Nokto to Sariel)

"(...) There you were, looking like you were having far more fun with my brothers than you've had with me in ages— When for me, nobody satisfies this loneliness but you."

"It's a fresh look for you. I like it. And you did it so beautifully, too. (...) King Highness? How did he end up doing that?" (—Nokto complimenting Emma's hairstyle done by Chevalier, in Chevalier's route)

"I’m not sure if you realize, but Licht is totally stone-faced whenever you’re not around." (—Nokto in Licht’s event story)

"As far as I'm concerned, we could just forget about going outside and jump into bed right now. But I know how much you want to go to the carnival. We've come all the way here, so why don't we have some fun?"

"Saying such sweet things, and in such a sexy outfit too... how could I not want you?"

"Sorry to interrupt, but you might want to close your eyes for a second. (…) Of course I saw it coming. That’s why I didn’t warn you. (…) See, this is the best part about coming to the beach. Here you are, dripping wet and sexier than ever, and there’s nothing to stop us from doing this. (…) You look absolutely ravishing." (—Nokto hiding an upcoming ocean wave from Emma)

"I have to make sure I treat you right. Otherwise, you might leave me for someone else."

"(…) You always look gorgeous, but tonight… you’re utterly irresistible. I want to take my time, slowly ravishing every inch of you."

#will update later #nokto klein #cybird #otome game #ikémen prince #ikemen series #ikeprince #quotes

[hearts-hunger]

evergreen — part two

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist | Join my taglist here!

Series Summary: Jake takes you on your first vacation to the cabin the gang stays at every year. When memories of past relationships loom heavy, will this vacation send cracks through the foundation of safety and trust you have in each other?

Chapter Summary: You're trying to let the past stay in the past, but Jake keeps making it difficult.

Pairings: Jake x Reader, Josh x Baby, Sam x Danny | Genre: fluff, angst, emotional h/c | Word Count: 4.4k | Warnings: smoking, sexual innuendo, mentions of infidelity

A/N: Hehehe more Jake being and idiot and Sparrow struggling emotionally. We're in for a little more before the end, but at least Baby and the boys are there for them ♡

You woke to a late morning sun, dappled daylight shining as well as it could through the trees growing right outside the window. Jake was on top of you, as he always was, his legs tangled with yours and his arm snugly around you, his face tucked into the crook of your neck. You absently brushed his hair back from his face, trying to take stock of yourself as you became aware of a vague, constant achiness.

Oh, right — margaritas strong enough to down a grown man, one cigarette too many, sleeping in a bed you'd felt completely uncomfortable in. All that was why you felt like you'd been run over by a truck. You needed to shower and take something for your headache and get out of this bed you hated with every fiber of your being, but you couldn't face trying to move just yet. 

Jake stirred and moved closer to you, if that was possible.

“Sparrow,” he mumbled. “You awake?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.” His morning voice was deep and raspy. “What the hell did we drink last night?”

“The whole liquor cabinet.”

He gave a soft laugh that trailed off into a groan. “Yeah, I guess so. You feel okay?”

“Oh, I feel super,” you said. “How do you feel?”

“Like roadkill.”

You snorted. “Sexy.”

He propped himself up a little, looking down at you with a scrunchy, dazed kind of smile. 

“If you say so,” he said. “That reminds me. We were gonna do some swashbuckling last night, weren't we?”

“We sure were,” you said, “before you passed out.”

“Right.” He gave you a quick smooch good morning, as he always did. “Sorry about that. I can make it up to you right now if you want.”

You gave a doubtful hum. “We need to shower. And brush our teeth.”

“Oh, come on,” he coaxed. He kissed your neck. “Napoleon told his wife not to bathe for three days before he came home and ravished her.”

Though you usually wouldn't have minded some sweaty, tangled-up morning sex, there was no way you were doing that in this bed. 

“Too bad you're not Napoleon,” you said sweetly.

He didn't get the hint, perhaps too absorbed with kissing your collarbone. He was still dressed in his clothes from the day before, but you were in nothing but your underwear; you couldn't exactly blame him for exploring what was usually available for his enjoyment, but no part of you wanted him to touch you like that in this bed.

“Jake,” you said, gently pushing him off you. “Let me up, babe.”

He did, respecting your less subtle cue but giving you a wry smile. “You must really not feel good,” he teased.

It wasn't your hangover that was killing your libido, and you were a little annoyed that he didn’t know that. You sat on the edge of the bed, touching a hand to your pounding head.

He ran a soothing hand over your back. “You feel sick, honey?”

You didn't answer that. You did, but you didn't want to tell him why. You wanted him to use his brain and figure it out himself.

“I’m gonna go shower,” you said. You blindly grabbed a shirt from the drawer, and it happened to be Jake's “I'm the reason all the rum is gone” tee.

“Oh, now you’re just teasing me,” he said with a smile.

“I'm not teasing anybody,” you said, and you surprised yourself with how harsh it was.

He raised a brow. “Okay, sparrow. I’m just messing with you, baby. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”

You wanted to say that not meaning to didn't make it any better; in a way, it made it worse. Where did he keep his brain sometimes? You felt it was stupid for him to be so oblivious, or maybe you should be thankful that he was. If he wasn't thinking about Izzy, why should you be?

You gave him a half-hearted nod, raw with guilt and discomfort. “Okay. I’m just... not in a great mood. Sorry.”

“You’re allowed to not be in a great mood,” he said kindly. “Go get a shower, honey. You want coffee?”

His gentle care for you wore down your frustration. “Yes, please.”

“Okay. It'll be ready for you when you get out.”

You gathered up some clothes and headed for the upstairs bathroom, but you heard the shower running in there already, so you made your way to the downstairs bathroom. Sam was in the basement fooling around on the mellotron, and you were mildly embarrassed to be seen in your current state of undress.

“Sorry,” you said bashfully. “Just going to shower.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “All good.”

You laughed. “Thanks. You're a gentleman and a scholar, Sam.”

“Oh, I try.”

You took a long time in the shower, letting the hot water ease your many aches. Even from the basement, you could smell the promised coffee brewing, and you came into the kitchen to see Jake and Danny working on breakfast.

“For you, my dearest,” Jake said, handing you a cup of coffee made just the way you liked it. “Danny reminded me that we're switching rooms, so I went ahead and moved our stuff.”

“Oh,” you said, pleasantly surprised and relieved. “Thanks, honey.”

“Sure.” He kissed your cheek. “I’m gonna go shower. You look like you're feeling a little better.”

“I am,” you said truthfully. All of your worries had been very quickly assuaged with a simple room reassignment, and you felt a huge weight come off of you.

He smiled. “I'm glad, honey.” He slapped a bottle of ibuprofen into your hand. “Eat up.”

You huffed a laugh and boosted yourself up onto the counter. Danny was working on pancakes, his hair up in a claw clip and a dishrag over his shoulder.

“Thanks for mentioning the room thing,” you said.

He smiled. “No problem, sparrow. I didn't say why, just asked him if we were still switching. I'm sorry you had to stay in there last night. You could have moved our stuff.”

“He forgot, and he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow,” you said. “I figured it was easier to stay put.”

“You're a good man, Charlie Brown,” he said. “I’d be climbing the walls in a room Sam had been in with his ex.”

You gave a rueful hum around a sip of coffee. “I almost was. He wanted to get into some... extracurriculars, shall we say, just now, but you can probably figure out how that went.”

“Not the way he pictured it, I imagine.” He added to the growing stack of pancakes. “He still doesn't know why you don't want to be in there?”

You sighed. “I guess not. Maybe I should be glad he’s not thinking of her, but I can't get her out of my head.”

“Who, me?” Baby came into the kitchen wearing one of Josh’s shirts and sleep shorts. “Sparrow, tell me it's me. I need an ego boost.”

“Girl, I'd rather it was you. But no, it’s Izzy.”

She looked over at you as she made herself a cup of coffee. “You didn't tell me you were into masochism.”

You and Danny laughed.

“They stayed in Jake’s old room last night,” Danny explained. 

Baby's expression scrunched. “Oh, ew. Why?”

“Ask the genius,” you said wryly. “I guess it just didn't occur to him.”

She sighed and leaned against the counter. “Well, the Kiszka boys aren't famous for being the world's most observant on some things. Are you switching rooms?”

“Yeah, we kicked Sam and Danny out,” you said. Danny walked past you to take the plate of bacon to the table, and when both you and Baby reached out, he stopped and let you take some.

“Go round ‘em up,” Danny said. “Everything’s ready.”

You did as he said, and when you were all gathered at the table, the six of you enjoyed a leisurely breakfast peppered with mentions of how bright the sunlight was and requests to pass the ibuprofen. Jake sat next to you, one hand on the back of your chair, his thumb occasionally skating across your back in a soothing motion. That was one of your favorite things about him: those little, unobtrusive touches that told you he was there, that he was tuned into you even if he wasn’t talking to you directly.

“I heard you working on something earlier, Sammy,” he said. “Sounded very orchestral.”

Sam gave him a lopsided smile. “Yeah, it's just something I’m messing around with. Maybe a cool opening for Josh's ‘Heat Above’ song.”

“You want to put the mellotron on that?” Josh asked, animated.

“I was thinking kind of like Age of Man,” he said. “I can show it to you if you want.”

Josh was up out of his chair and down to the basement before anyone could stop him, if they'd been trying to, and Sam followed with a proud smirk on his face. All four brothers tried to impress each other with their new ideas, and you knew that Sam was pleased with Josh’s eager anticipation to hear what he’d been working on. 

At the other end of the table, Danny and Baby were talking about their plans for a Chopped-style cooking competition. You and Jake sat in companionable silence, nursing your coffee and enjoying each other’s closeness.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he said after a moment. The sun caught in his hair, bringing out the hint of red in it. “I really was just teasing. You know I don't want anything from you that you don't want to give.”

You touched his cheek. “I know, honey. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I’m sorry too.”

He gave you a gentle kiss. “Love you, sparrow.”

You smiled. “Love you too, Jakey. I think I’m gonna read out on the porch for a little bit. You wanna come and be bored to death?”

He breathed a laugh. “If you want me to, sure.”

“Or you can go jam,” you offered. You patted his chest. “Actually, go do that. I know you'd rather be playing music than watching me read.”

He considered that. “Okay, what if — and here's another one of my theories — I bring my guitar out and play while you read?”

“Again, not a theory,” you teased. “But sure. If you want to, I’d like that.”

He left to get his guitar and you grabbed your book and refilled both of your coffees, heading out to the porch swing. He came out with a throw blanket and his acoustic guitar, and he tossed the blanket at you and managed to cover your head with it.

“Ah, I get it,” you said, your voice muffled. “You don't want to see me while you hang out with me.”

He chuckled and rearranged the blanket so it lay over your lap. “Sorry. My toss was a little over-zealous.”

He sat next to you on the swing, playing an aimless tune that eventually made its way into Jackson Browne's “These Days”. You tried to focus on your book, but his voice was so warm and soft as he sang that you couldn't help but watch him play.

He noticed and looked over at you, giving you a bashful smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said. “I just like watching you play.”

His cheeks pinked. “Lucky you got a guy who does nothing but play guitar.”

You smiled. “Yeah, it is lucky.” You watched as he effortlessly picked out the solo in skillful, intentional movements of his fingers across the strings.

“You know this is kind of our song,” you said.

He nodded in that distracted way you liked, when he was focused on playing but still listening to you. “Yes ma'am. I remember.” You'd danced to this song at the wedding where you’d been reunited last winter, the same wedding where you’d finally done something about the feelings both of you had had for each other even after years of being apart. 

“You know the words,” he said. “Sing with me.”

You blushed. “Oh, I dunno. I'd rather hear you without me screwing it up.”

He shook his head. “Your voice could never screw anything up, sparrow. Sing with me.”

You couldn't say no to him, not when he was so sweet to you. He started the next verse, and you offered a quiet, tentative harmony.

“Well I’ll keep on moving, things are bound to be improving these days.”

His smile was impossibly tender. “See? I told you. Beautiful.”

You leaned close and kissed him, slow and gentle and so in love with him.

“Say you love me,” you said softly.

He touched his nose to yours. “I love you, sparrow. More than you could ever imagine, and more than I could ever tell you.”

—

He went to join the guys downstairs after a while, and you felt a warm glow in your chest long after he’d left. You didn't know why you’d been so upset about the whole Izzy business — of course Jake was just being oblivious, and there was no malicious intent in his absent-mindedness. You decided to put the whole thing out of your mind and not let the idea of her intrude on your picture-perfect vacation to a beautiful mountain cabin with the ones you loved so dearly.

Putting a bookmark between the pages of your novel, you ventured inside after a bit to find everyone downstairs. Baby made room for you on the couch and shared her gummy worms, and you snacked contentedly while the boys worked on a song that wasn't entirely coming together.

“I don’t know, it feels a little boring,” Danny said. “It need something like — ” He played a driving beat on the drums, making ample use of the cymbals. “Something brighter.”

“It’s a ballad,” Jake said, shaking his head. “A love song. It just needs the bass drum and the toms, maybe.” He strummed a few chords, and Sam scrambled to join him on the bass. You watched, amused, as Jake was wholly absorbed in playing the tune at a blinding volume while Danny didn't play a single thing. 

Jake looked up. “Yeah, like that,” he said.

Danny lazily twirled a drumstick. “Well, I wasn't playing anything, so...”

Jake gave him an abashed smile. “Oh. Well, maybe it doesn't need any drums. It's just an acoustic thing.”

“You’re cranked up to the loudest, crunchiest tone possible,” Danny pointed out. “Play it on acoustic and I’ll see what I can do with that.”

Jake sigh was half irritated groan. “Maybe we should just scrap it.” He tied his hair up in a bun, and you knew he must be getting frustrated — Jake never put his hair up when he was playing unless he was fed up with it and needed a little less sensory input.

“I don't know, man,” Josh said. “It’s not terrible. I like the chord progression.”

“Okay,” Danny offered, “what if i build up with the drums, like start off with just the bass and come in later on the snare, but keep it soft, and give it a few splashes? Or — ” He extended his hand to Sam, and somehow Sam knew to toss him the egg shakers. “I’ll do some kind of maraca thing, and you can do a beat on the body of the guitar like that Iron and Wine thing.”

“So many things,” Sam teased. “Is that the technical term, Daniel?”

Danny shook a maraca at him. “Yes. Don't question the master.”

Sam put up a hand in surrender. “I wouldn't dare.”

Jake unplugged his guitar and slung the strap over his head. ���Let me think about it for a minute. I might decide I hate it.”

His brothers were content to let him take a break, changing tacks to work on the song Sam and Josh had played around with earlier. It was obviously missing a guitar, but it didn't sound half bad with the mellotron and a bright, splashy drum beat to accompany Josh’s voice. 

Jake all but collapsed on the couch next to you. “Hi.”

You smiled. “Hi, honey. Rough day at work?”

He ran a hand over his face. “I guess. That song’s not my best work, but I thought we could try it.”

“Don’t give up on it,” you said. You handed him a gummy worm. “Here. A little something to take the edge off.”

He snorted. “Thanks.”

You brushed back a few wayward strands of hair that had missed the bun. “When did you write that song, anyway? I don't think I've ever heard it.”

“Sometime last year,” he said. “Summer before last, I think. I don't know.”

You tried to ignore the creeping doubt that you'd promised yourself you were done with. “Before you met me?”

“Well, not technically,” he reminded you. You’d been friends in high school before you’d lost touch for a few years. “But yeah, before we got together.”

“Right.” You hated the uncertainty in your tone. “And it's a love song?”

He sighed. “Trying to be, anyway.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. A love song that he'd written before you were together, presumably with someone else in mind. Izzy, namely. You felt a nudge from Baby, and you interpreted her sympathetic look to mean something like I’m sorry he keeps being stupid and you can't really blame him for it at the same time.

You let out a long breath. You knew you couldn't hold his past relationships against him, but it didn't exactly feel great to know he was working on an old love song he’d written for her. You wondered how terrible a girlfriend you would be if you told him to scrap it like he wanted to.

You steeled yourself. No, you remembered, you weren’t going down that road. The past was in the past, and you’d let it stay there, where it belonged, buried six feet underground.

That was a little morbid, granted. You didn't want Izzy six feet under, though you did wish for some karmic payback for the pain she’d caused Jake. But it wasn't yours to deliver, so you'd support this song if he really wanted to make a go of it.

You patted his thigh. “Come play some Pac-Man with me.”

“Ooh, me too,” Baby said, getting up to go with you to the game on the far side of the basement crowded with a pool table, a pinball machine, and a foosball table. Jake followed somewhat reluctantly, but you knew him; he couldn't pass up an opportunity to beat the pants off of you in any game. He was usually successful, except in spades, which he was terrible at for some reason; then, he always insisted on being on your team and letting you carry the two of you to victory. 

As you played, he tried to give you pointers, but you were resigned to being awful at it. 

“Come on, honey,” he laughed. “It’s kinda like skipping stones, remember? All in the — ” Your Pac-Man dissolved and died. “All in the wrist.”

You let him have a go, and he was much better at it; you and Baby watched intently as he moved up a couple levels before he lost. 

“Damn,” he said, looking at the high scores. “Who's that at the top? That was one of us, right?”

He looked to Baby, and she fidgeted a little beside you.

“I think... I think it was Izzy,” she said cautiously.

He didn't say anything for a moment, and you listened with baited breath for how he would react.

“Huh,” he said finally, his tone as even as could be, as if revisiting a pleasant memory. “Yeah, I think you're right.”

As stupid as it was, you couldn’t stop the hot spark of frustration that flared to life in your chest. 

“Guess she knew all about the wrist technique, or whatever,” you said flatly.

He shrugged. “I guess. She was good at that sort of thing.” He stepped aside to let Baby play, and she glanced over at you with an uncertain expression.

“You want to get beaten in foosball too?” Jake asked you, a playful smile on his face.

“No, thanks.” You turned to Baby. “Does Josh have any cigarettes hidden away somewhere?”

“Yes, and I’ll show you where,” she said, “because it’s a dumb hiding place where he thinks I won't get at them.”

She gave you a conspiratorial smile and looped her arm around yours, abandoning her game. 

“You’re gonna die!” Jake protested.

“Sparrow needs me,” she said tartly. “Besides, who cares about a score on Pac-Man?”

You were glad she could sass him when you couldn't quite get up the nerve to, and you let her lead you upstairs to the room she and Josh were sharing.

“Holy shit, is he dumb or what?” she asked, rooting through Josh's backpack. She put on an affected voice. “Oh, she’s so talented and good at that sort of thing that you're bad at. What a moron.”

You couldn't help but laugh, thankful for her lighthearted tone and collusion with you in your frustration. She reached elbow-deep into the backpack and finally found the pack of cigarettes, holding them up triumphantly. 

“Ha! Take that, Joshua.”

The two of you went out to the porch, leaning against the railing as you smoked. The air was chilly and fragrant with pine, and you closed your eyes and let the breeze soothe your riled emotions.

“Am I overreacting?” you asked. “Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing.”

She shrugged. “I don't know, sparrow. I was lucky Josh never brought anyone else here.”

You blew out a thin stream of smoke. “And Josh never had any serious relationships before yours, did he?”

“Not really, which is also lucky.” She looked a little wistful then. “We were too busy pining over each other to worry about anybody else, I think.”

Though you’d all been friends your last year of high school and the summer after graduation, you knew Baby had practically grown up with them. You hadn't been surprised to find out that she and Josh were together when you met up again last winter, and it also didn't surprise you that they'd spent a long time secretly in love with each other without saying it.

“Did you ever have a crush on the other guys?” you asked. “Even just a little thing?”

Her smile was telling. “Not really. I guess I thought Danny was a looker when he grew out of his awkward middle-school phase, but I like my guys a little shorter and weirder.”

You laughed. “I guess we have similar tastes.”

She flicked her cigarette. “In that way, yeah. But Jake and Josh are as different as night and day, you know that.”

“Sun and moon,” you said, remembering with fondness the comments you'd seen on social media posts featuring the twins.

She smiled. “Yeah, sun and moon. Sometimes a dumbass sun and moon, but hey.”

You sighed and put your cigarette out. “I don’t know what to do. Sam said I should tell him.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that advice from him before,” she said wryly. “Tends to be solid, but it’s easier said than done.”

“No kidding.” You heard the sound of Jake’s guitar join the song drifting from inside. “Would you tell Josh? If he was doing something like this?”

“Well, I'd like to think I wouldn't have to,” she said. “But... yeah, I would. I trust Josh. And I trust Jake, and I know you do too, even if he’s being an idiot.”

You scuffed your shoe against the railing. “Yeah.” You did trust Jake; you trusted him with every part of you, even the most vulnerable ones, and he’d cherished and honored that trust every time it had been put to the test. Why was this time so hard for you?

Baby gently bumped her shoulder against yours. “Why are you scared to tell him? You know he’d understand how you feel.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I don't know.” You hadn't talked to anyone about this before, not even your best friends who would surely have listened and given you advice, but you wanted to try and talk to Baby about it now.

“We’re out of the honeymoon phase, I guess,” you said. “Not that that’s a bad thing, and not that I expect us to break up or anything, but...”

“It's hard,” she said kindly. “I get it. The first time Josh and I had a big fight, a few months after we got together, I cried the rest of the night. I went super crazy and catastrophized the whole thing.”

That was a familiar feeling. You'd bickered more with Jake these past few months than you ever had when you first got together, and sometimes it had devolved into an actual argument. You hated it, but it was a natural part of relationships.

“I’m not used to that sort of thing,” you confessed. “Me and Jake... this is my first serious relationship, and I don't know what the hell I’m doing. I want to marry him, and I think he’s that serious about me, but... he was probably that serious about Izzy too.”

She didn't say anything for a moment, and you felt your heart sink. “He was, wasn’t he?”

She sighed. “I don't know. I won't lie and say he didn't love her. And I guess she loved him too, as much as you could love a person while still being able to cheat on them, which maybe isn't much.”

She put her cigarette out. “Jake’s like a totally different person with you, sparrow. He lights up like a firefly whenever you're around. I didn't know if he’d ever recover from Izzy, but he has with you, and he loves you like you're his heart.”

You swallowed around the tightness in your throat. “Really? You're not just saying that?”

She took your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “No way, sparrow. You know me — I’m a straight shooter. And you fit with us like you were made for us, just like you do with Jake.”

You squeezed her hand back. “I love you.”

Her smile was a little wobbly. “Aw, sparrow, I love you too. I'm so glad you're in our family.”

“Me too,” you said softly.

She kissed your cheek. “I think Sam’s right. Go talk to Jake. You’ll feel better, and Jake will stop being so dumb, and then you can have super great celebration sex.”

You laughed, really laughed, and she laughed with you.

“You know I’m right!” she said. She gave you a gentle push towards the door. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

You stopped at the door and looked back at her.

“I’m really glad you're my friend,” you said.

Her smile was warm and very kind. “Me too, sparrow.”

taglist: @viagvf @allieisacrybaby @itsafullmoon @spark-my-nature @anthemheatwave @xserenax-13 @musicspeaks @mountain-in-springtime @stardustsecret @alwaysonthemend @madneedshelp @josh-iamyour-mama @dannythedog

and some cabin fever besties who were excited for this one :)  @shutupdevvie @gold-mines-melting @earthlysorrows @brooke-gvf

join my taglist here!

#don't worry. jake is so not done being dumb <3 #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fluff #evergreen fic #jake kiszka angst #cabin fever fics #maddie writes stuff!

[daydreamingupandaway]

Omg HEYYYY folks! So i don’t know if y’all know this.. if you do IRL you definitely do, but I’m a HUGE Magnus protocol Fan! And of course I ADORE The Magnus Archives.

Well- I just listened to episode 15 and I want to talk about it! SPOILERS AHEAD

————————————————————

Last warning!

HOLY FUCKING SHIT TWO ENTITIES SPOTTED KFKSFKSKCMSKKFDMCMMGJSOFNDN

HAPPY STIMMING

My ass could NOT have gotten through this episode without the handy dandy transcripts. They’re easy to find, just look them up lol. Like oh my GOODNESS this episode was a treat!

So I think we can all agree that Lady Mowbray is an avatar of the hunt, right? RIGHT?! Like that is so obvious!! We love to see the hunt again, really it’s just nice to see something familiar again! She seems really interesting, and I found Celia’s interaction with her… interesting. Like my girl Celia INSTANTLY knew something was off, and I think she handled it nicely… maybe TOO nicely. If you know you know ;)

And is it just me, and I might be a little silly here.. but did the Caterer sound familiar? At first when he was kinda panicked he sounded like Tim but then not… thinking back on it doesn’t he sound like the vampire hunter guy? Trevor Herbert? Or is that just wishful thinking?

Now onto Alice and the victim- MY BABY ALICE HAS HER FIRST ENCOUNTER!!! Yay!!!! I always knew she’d be one of the first to get an encounter. I feel so bad for her, she’s so traumatized. But when you belong to a Rusty Quill production, you’re bound to be!

The victim? I’d say probably something to do with the vast, since the vast can be represented in the ocean as well. Though the ocean was a very under utilized vessel of the vast in TMA. Though I have heard some folks saying that it is possible TMAGP has new entities? Who knows!

I heard a few people say some interesting things about Luke and the band he was performing with, saying that they might have had something to do with the victim? I don’t know about that. I guess I didn’t really pick up anything sketch from them. At least it wasn’t Grifters Bone lol!

In any case I adored this episode! Had me sitting on the edge of my seat! I really have to start dedicating more time to my TMA relisten so I can have better theories.

Would anyone like me to start drawing the TMAGP cast? Or TMA cast? I’ll see if I can cook up designs with those lads.

Oh, one final thing… Cheshire Bouchards? What does THAT mean? Is Elias a big figure here? I’m not British, but I’m fairly certain Cheshire is somewhere in England, right?

Anyway I’ve seen Alice become a fan favorite and I have to agree! I love her so much.

#alice dyer #gwendolyn bouchard #tmagp celia #samama khalid #lady mowbray #the magnus archives #the magnus protocol #the hunt #the vast #tmagp spoilers #tmagp speculation #tmagp episode 15 #tmagp 15

[tgmsunmontue]

More than movie magic... 22/?

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY TWENTYONE

CHAPTER TWENTYTWO

                They’re silent with one another and Jake doesn’t know how to break the quiet. Doesn’t particularly want to break the quiet, not to rake through his relationship history, although he knows it’s a topic usually covered during a date. Except all their dates have either been around his parent’s dining room table, or in the barn, which definitely wasn’t conducive to conversation. He looks up from where he’s leaving his boots to see Bradley stripping off his shirt, but then pulling on a loose soft-looking shirt.

                “Wh – what are you doing?”

                “Changing into something more comfortable. Figure if I’m going to feel uncomfortable internally the least I can do is be comfortable externally.”

                “Oh. Huh. Okay.”

                “Feel free to join me, looks like you’ve got more clothes here now…”

                Bradley then proceeds to shut the blinds, casting the entire space into a dim half-light, the setting sun making it feel warm and Jake strips down to his underwear, not really wanting to put anything else on and he’s comfortable in his own skin.

                “This okay?”

                “Yeah, of course. Whatever you’re comfortable with… Come here…”

                He crawls into bed, let’s Bradley wrap his arms around him, body pressing along the length of his back and legs.

                “Figure it might be easier to not be looking at each other for this.”

                Jake’s stomach squirms with unease.

                “That bad?”

                “No. Not really. I don’t have a dark shady past, or a pile of angry exes. I do have… well. One isn’t even a relationship, but it’s definitely the reason Pete jumped on a plane. Then there’s a very ill-advised relationship, which probably doesn’t help the whole thing, but they’re both over ten years ago. Pete is just… overly dramatic.”

                “Oh.”

                “You want me to just lay it all out?”

                “Yeah, like ripping off a Band-Aid right? You said that we should talk. About what has Pete and Tom flying out here. About… why my mom thinks she needs to play matchmaker.”

                He can feel Bradley’s breath, warm against his neck, forces himself to relax, that this is a sharing of information, that neither of them are looking for reasons to not be together, just maybe, hopefully, understand each other’s families a little better, because apparently they each have their own brand of crazy.

                “So… interesting that your mum wants to play matchmaker, because the two times Pete tried to match me with people it ended in divorce and a restraining order respectively.”

                “What the fuck?” Jake asks, trying to twist to look Bradley in the eye, see if he’s joking, but Bradley is holding him tight, throwing a leg over Jake’s thighs and he realizes he’s effectively being pinned. Knowing Bradley he’s probably got a fucking black belt in some obscure martial art. He forces himself to relax.

                “So, what? Do they think you need protecting? From me?”

                “No. Just… Pete matched me with both people and it ended in disaster. So despite him joking about third time lucky, he hasn’t ever tried again. Gone too hard in the other direction. He second guesses when he thinks someone might be good for me. The fact that he didn’t ever try and introduce us when he was working with you, that he brought Tom to meet you… that’s him second guessing the fact that he likes you.”

                “Tell me what happened?”

                “So,” Bradley sucks in a big breath and he feels it brush past his neck and he shivers involuntarily. “Obviously if I’m divorced I’ve been married before.” Jake doesn’t bother saying anything, figures Bradley is trying to get his thoughts in order.       “He, Pete, introduced me to my ex-wife, which, is something of a mindfuck to have to explain when you figure out you’re gay. It was very short-lived. Like. A couple of days. I was young. Nineteen. It was in Vegas, which is a cliché, but she thought she could make a quick jump into Hollywood when she found out exactly who Pete and Tom were to me. We could have been friends probably, but she just went a little… power hungry. Um. She drugged me. Needless to say I ended up pressing criminal charges and getting an annulment.”

                “Oh shit,” Jake says, because he’s starting to feel like his dating history is nothing compared with this. It actually makes him feel a little better.

                “I mean, hindsight is great, I did nothing wrong, but… this happened over fifteen years ago. I got therapy. Pete didn’t, but probably should have. Then I figured some shit out, came out, and then Pete introduced me to someone else…”

                Silence pools between them and Jake waits, feels Bradley shift against him slightly and the softest of kisses pressed between his neck and shoulder.             

                “The second person, a guy, he was a little controlling… Ugh. He was emotionally abusive. I was still young, didn’t really think his requests were too much. Until they started to be. Again, Pete had introduced us. I thought it was normal. It’s not like I grew up seeing a lot of healthy balanced relationships, but I did eventually figure out it wasn’t right. Anyway. Broke up with him, he tried to become even more controlling and hence the restraining order. He lives in New York now, and Tom made his life very difficult before that move. So… I took a break from dating, or any relationships, for about two years.”

                “Oh.”

                “Yep. Since then I’ve had three relationships, two of those were good and ended amicably and I’m still friendly with them. The other didn’t end so well, they cheated on me. I’m away for work a lot apparently. Anyway, guess which one of those three Pete liked the most?”

                “The cheater,” Jake sighs, not sure who to feel worse for.

                “Yep. Three for three. So… yeah. Pete’s happy for me. But he’ll also be second guessing everything he’s ever thought about you. So try not to take it too personally if he blows hot and cold for a while.”

                “Oh. Tom said something earlier… about hearing a lot about me from Pete.”

                “Yeah, that’s probably right.” Jake hums under his breath, not sure what to think. He’s only been with Bradley a matter of days. “Tom will make up his own mind. But yeah, there you go… once Pete comes to grips with the fact that him liking my boyfriend doesn’t end up cursing the relationship he’ll be fine.”

                Jake can’t help the snort of amusement.

                “God that is so dramatic.”

“Well, takes one to know one right?”

                “Hey!” Jake objects, and he can feel Bradley’s smile against his shoulder, his body shaking with quiet laughter, and god it feels good, despite the seriousness of the conversation, to still be close and laughing together. “I get family wanting to protect you though.”

                “Hmm. See I think of it as family not trusting me to make my own decisions. Everything else was so long ago.”

                “I guess. Nice to know they care about you so much they drop everything and fly across the country to double check anyway.”

                “Dramatic,” Bradley says, voice deadpan and Jake laughs, but his gut is churning, knows it’s his turn now to share the details of his own past failed relationships and he doesn’t have people wanting to use him and his connections, or control him or even people that have cheated on him… He’s just failed every single one of them in different ways and he doesn’t want to fail Bradley.

                “You okay?” Bradley asks, his voice a whisper against the shell of his ear and Jake just wants to curl in upon himself and hide away for a bit longer.

                “I… I’m not good at relationships.”

                “What makes you think that?”

                “I’m just, I’m not good enough,” Jake says, and he thinks Bradley was right in doing this with the blinds pulled, no lights, the darkness slowly covering them like a quiet blanket and allowing them to feel less exposed. “I thought I’d found my person. You know when you think you’ve found them and you plan your life out, and then… it’s all pulled out from under you?”

                Bradley doesn’t say anything, doesn’t need to, just hums encouragingly and hugs him a little tighter and he takes a couple of slow deep breaths.

                “My high school girlfriend left me. We’d been together for eight years. Said she didn’t sign up to be famous. Didn’t want to have to deal with the hate mail, or the fans… It was horrible. She was a big part of my life. My family loved her. I’d picked out a ring. So yeah, the pressure and attention, it was just too much for her. And I thought, okay, I’ll date people who are also in the public eye, but…”

                “You’re a country boy at heart.”

                Jake laughs but doesn’t disagree.

                “I’m not… I.” Jake pauses. “I’m not used to being the more interested party. Person. I’m used to people asking me out.”

                “Pretty sure we asked each other out…”

                “Is that what we’re calling it?” Jake asks, feels Bradley give him another squeeze and he smiles into the dark, presses back against his body and squeezes his forearm where it rests across his stomach.

                “Yep, definitely reciprocal asking each other out. Anyone else you want to tell me about?”

                He sighs, because there are only two others, anyone that he didn’t bring back to meet his parents isn’t worth mentioning. Wasn’t around long enough for Jake to feel emotionally invested enough to bring them home to meet his family and see where he grew up. It’s dawning on him that he’s sort of done things a bit backwards with Bradley, and that might be the best thing he’s ever done.

                “I dated Gabriel for three years. He was great. Lovely and sweet. He wasn’t ashamed of being with me. Our life together in Hollywood was great. We had a lot of similar interests and our friend circles overlapped. He met my family and it was fine. Then we came home to visit, he seemed to like it here; couldn’t ride, but that was okay. I don’t care about that, even if my mom seems to think it’s a prerequisite. He was learning, wanted to learn. What wasn’t okay was every time my parents or one of my siblings would walk in on us, he’d jump away from me, like he wasn’t allowed to touch me without their permission. Even if we were just sitting side by side.”

                “What?”

                “I know. It was fine when we were around friends, in LA, but he just got so keyed up around my family. So the visit home was the beginning of the end and he broke up with me about six months after.”

                “That sounds like a him problem, if he had issues being affectionate with you in front of your family. It’s not your fault.”

                “I know.”

                “Do you?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “It wasn’t on you to fix his issues. Did you talk to him about it?”

                “I tried,” Jake says. “I tried to not let it bother me as well.”

                “Did he try?”

                Jake is about to say yes, of course, but then thinks about it, because Gabriel hadn’t been one to face his own flaws or consider self-improvement, unless it would have made him look better. They’d left the ranch early to return to LA, cutting their vacation short, but Gabriel had made a comment about it not being much of a vacation anyway.

                “No… I guess he didn’t.”

                “His loss,” Bradley says, whispers and Jake swallows against the welling up emotion, because he doesn’t feel like he’s a treasure worth keeping, not usually, but Bradley is definitely making him think that maybe he is.

                “Then there’s Alicia. My last girlfriend. She is terrified of horses, hated seeing me ride. My mom was glad to see the back of her. She never said she didn’t like her, but she was always so polite it was almost frosty with it.”

                “Huh.”

                “Yeah. She made you do the dishes. That was her way of subtly screaming that she already considers you family.”

                “Oh.”

                “Yeah.”

                “Your parents were checking I was up to scratch…”

                “Yeah. Apparently. Mom doesn’t like the glossy façade people put on in LA. Dad even less so. They both like you.”

                “Jake… did you plan this whole movie just so you could get me to meet your family and ask me out?”

                “No!”

                “I mean, I’m okay with it if you did. It’s one hell of a gesture.”

                “No. I didn’t. Not consciously, anyway,” Jake mutters.

                “Well, either way, I’m here and I like it. Especially with you.”

                “Yeah. Feels too good to be true though doesn’t it? A little bit?”

                “Nope. There’s enough bad shit going on that I don’t need to go second guessing what feels like something good. Something amazing.”

                “Oh,” Jake says to the room, the word quiet on his exhale and he feels Bradley’s arm tighten around him again.

                “I am going to tell you every day that you’re too good to be true until you believe me…”

                “Yeah?”

                “Yeah. I can be very persuasive.”

                “I bet you can,” Jake says, and this time when he tries to turn to face Bradley he’s allowed to shift, face him and take his lips with his own until he can no longer tell where his body ends and Bradley’s begins.

#Hangster #Sereshaw #more than movie magic #Top Gun Maverick

[gregmarriage]

okay, i’m genuinely curious: do people find me intimidating?

#that’s crazy to me but i wanna hear it from you #bc i get intimidated by other people i deem too cool for me whether that’s silly or not #but like to think other people find *me* intimidating? #idk i feel im very jaded and my own perception of myself very obviously will probably not match other people’s #idk i’m thinking about that kinda stuff lately #both in the context of friendship and otherwise #and just trying to both be more grown up and putting myself out there and making new adult relationships #and also balancing that with autism and the struggle to do so #my experience with friendship is weird and i wanna actually learn to be better basically #idk i always feel i’m a bad friend but like i do try really really hard and if i was really a bad friend i wouldn’t try at all would i? #idk it’s very complicated and it comes from a werid childhood and yadda yadda #whatever my big thing right now is communication i guess? #and relearning how to do it etc #as i’ve said in multiple posts #and i guess i’m trying to bare with myself as well as asking other people to do the same #bc i wanna talk and make friends but i’m currently on a slow road to figuring stuff out in my life so uhh yeah #that’s the guist of it i guess #anyways imaooo this post got away from me #gwen rambles #gwenposting

[voiceshearingyouloud]

Nothing like chilling on the couch, opening google on my phone so I can watch youtube only to find my last opened tab was ‘when to go to the ER for suicidality’ 😭

I’m somehow totally fine now but earlier today I was going for a walk and started thinking about all the crap that’s happened to me and how trapped I feel with my parents recently. I got the worst suicidality I’ve had in years, actually probably the most severe acute moment of suicidality I’ve ever experienced. I was gonna call an ambulance right then because I didn’t trust myself to walk back out of the ravine without doing something but thankfully it passed quickly and I feel normal now.

I should maybe tell my partner though, but I hate to worry them because their ex was very suicidal and put it on my partner in a really horrible way so the last thing I want to do is make them feel like they have to keep me alive. Idk, I should ask them what they want me to do I think. It’ll be a horrible conversation but I think it’s necessary if things continue this way, a worse conversation would be ‘hey, I’m at the ER right now’ or G-d forbid the call from someone other than me.

#suicidality tw #tw suicidality #suicide tw #tw suicide #I feel like this one necessitates all the tags lol #the experience actually really shook me by how much it was my brain doing the ‘we are in mortal danger right now’ #but the danger was from myself #well. I’m alive still; somehow #there goes another of my nine lives lol #I would’ve called an ambulance if not for how I was fine walking home #and I will if this happens again to that severity even if it goes away #so I’ll be fine! I’m actually feeling glad to be alive which has never happened this fast after having really bad SI #so that’s something :) strange but I’ll take it #anne speaks #sorry for the tag essay I guess I just have a lot of feelings about it #I’m restraining myself from just talking about the specifics because no one needs to hear that

[micamicster]

I do mainly see writing as like a fun hobby i pursue when the impulse strikes me but i really do always want to improve! So because this is a blog im thinking about my writing goals for this current project:

Try to pull back and be more ambiguous when writing metaphors etc try not to state things so directly

Reduce the amount of like, buffer words, like she thinks or she feels. We’re in her pov we already know this is her thinking

Try to make my protagonist interesting without relying on her being funny (why didn’t I just write a funny protagonist?? what was I thinking!)

#while I can see the places my prose has improved since edge of seventeen im having a harder time seeing improvement since #so I’m trying to set goals for myself idk #like i do think that the load out was some of the best writing ive done in terms of craft. it was very unserious #not in a bad way! it was a ton of fun and I think it does what I set out to do really well! but it’s very much in my comfort zone #kids. music. humor. you know? #and I want to set goals that i can be conscious of while I’m writing and see if I can improve my prose that way #I think as of right now my writing-writing is sometimes awkward and often serviceable. and i want it to get… more subtle I guess #this is not fishing for compliments btw you do not have to reassure me that my writing is good or whatever #it’s just something I try to think about on my own #since I don’t have the time/seriousness to do a writing group or class or anything #anyway! stuff for me to work on! #while you were sleeping au

[jorvikzelda]

I finished the stripe B)

#well. like. #I actually did like half an hour ago and now I’ve spent the past half hour winding the next yarn colour into a ball #you see the blanket has a previous incarnation which was shit and bad #and I decided not to put myself through the hell of unwinding it All At Once so now instead im doing it colour by colour #so before i move on from one stripe to the next I have to first wind the next stripe into a ball #and the old blanket is so badly made that it takes a really long time because the yarn is like. all tangled up in itself #ALSO I FUCKED UP MY FINGER SO BAD MAN #I won’t go into detail because thinking about it has my anxiety acting up and I know I’m not the only person with Issues on here #*into detail about The Causing Of The Injury. i am in fact going into detail about the following idiocy and annoyingness that it entails #but cw/tw for like. I’m talking about a minor injury in the form of a small cut/scratch #but basically i fucked around and found out a bit too hard earlier today and now i have like a. shallow cut. scratch. whatever running along #my left middle finger. (also because this is tumblr I will add please note it was not on purpose I was genuinely just being stupid as hell.) #it is relevant that it is specifically my left middle finger. why you may ask? well. i am right handed. so i hold my crochet hook in my #right hand. and as a consequence my yarn in my left. and my yarn runs between. you guessed it. my middle and index fingers. meaning it runs #right above my middle finger knuckle. which. you guessed it. is where my little scratch cut is. and I was AGAIN an idiot so I was not #wearing a bandage. (thought it was fine because it had already kinda scabbed over.) and then i get off my what. 2? 3? hours of crochet and #go to brush my teeth and im like oh wow why is that all irritated. and then im like. OHHHH FUCK I HAD SCRATCHY WOOL YARN RUNNING OVER IT. #so yeah I am adding unscented soap And saline to my shopping list for tomorrow ! #and praying to every god on earth and beyond it doesnt get infected #(it probably wont like. ive had cat scratches that were realistically probably worse than this. plus I’m taking vitamin gummies that are #specifically immune system boosting since like a week back because I got tired of getting a bunch of colds so hopefully they will also help #my nice little white blood cells fight off any bacteria here :) )

[raeathnos]

.

#oh I am straight up not having a good time rn #long story short I got in a big ducking fight with my mom yesterday over something dumb #it’s complicated and I don’t want to talk about it #but it was my fault and I did apologize #there’s some shit she did in the past that’s related that I know I’m never getting a fucking apology for but whatever #but I can tell she’s pissed and my apology wasn’t enough #and I know her well enough to know that she’s going to let it sit and stew #and in sometime in the near future when we’re both alone she’s gonna explode at me #very much not in a good mental place for that and not looking forward to it #in the mean time I feel like I gotta walk on eggshells and my anxiety is fucked cause I’m just waiting to be exploded at #I’m disappointed in myself because I feel like I acted like she does which is something I try very hard not to do #but also like I did apologize which is something she never does #which also has me upset #this was over something small and stupid and she’ll turn it into the biggest shit and how I’m a terrible daughter and all that #meanwhile I went through so much shit from her as a kid included getting disowned multiple times #for really stupid reasons (didn’t like that I was a tomboy - was personally insulted that I was depressed) #and Ive never gotten an apology for any of those and know I never will #and additionally know not to talk about them because she’ll just twist things and play the victim #so I guess the gist of it is I’m mad at her and I’m mad at myself for how I acted but also that this is #bringing back a lot of bad memories I’d rather not remember right now #also it was inventory today so I had to be up at 2am and I only got like an hour and a half of sleep #so I’m dying physically mentally and emotionally atm #I am straight up having a bad time #it’s the not knowing when I’m going to get screamed at that’s getting to me rn #my anxiety is so bad #I need to get out of here

[vampire-nyx]

Listen I hate ai art as much as the next guy and in its current state and likely future states I do not support using it, however some of us Need to stop arguing against it saying shit that ableists say to disabled people

“Oh ai art could be an accessibility tool? Disabled people CAN make art, here’s a video of a disabled person doing something incredibly difficult, time consuming, and likely painful for them. Why can’t you just do that instead? Why are you Lying about your ability?”

#like I’m not saying it’s okay or cool to be making ai art right now #but to deny its use as an accessibility tool is just stupid #stop doing it #it’s the same ignorant bullshit as #‘oh well THIS disabled person can work so why can’t YOU’ #there will always be someone with less ability than you or the disabled people you see online #there will always be someone who simply Cannot do something #and it is not fair or right to just go ‘well if you really can’t then fuck you I guess just don’t at all’ #that’s not how we treat disabled people here. #to reiterate: ai art Bad but ableism Also Bad #sunny speaks