#SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I HOPE IT MAKES SENSE

[circeyoru]

Love Trial _ Part 2

[Sung Jinwoo x High School Ex-Lover!Reader]

Part 1 ― Part 2 (here)

“I’m sorry. Let’s break up.”

“I understand. I wish you happiness, Hunter Sung. May your days be nothing of smiles and content.”

At the time, there wasn’t much to it, nothing that would make him take it back nor chase after your fleeting form. He, too, turned and left, returning to his work as a Hunter like usual. There was nothing personal, just that he felt like the distance and connection between you two was weaker than what he and you first had all those years ago. 

Well, the difference in your circumstances could be the reason. He was a Hunter and you were a citizen. As bad as he sounded, you two were in different worlds and you both knew it deep down. Yet both of you continued to cling to the hope and familiarity of what you two once had during the peaceful days of school and study. 

The distance felt stronger and farther when he first had the System. He put everything into growing stronger and securing his place so his family would have an easier time. He was grateful for your understanding and the space you’ve given him, but part of him wanted something more, something he can’t place. He was content with you in his corner when things were rough, he thought he was content with that.

More. More. More.

He craved for something more. Like his continuous growth in power and levels, he also wanted his relationship with you to grow. However, as he put more time into the System and its mission for his growth, he should have given you the time of day. Not that he realized until you two met up and told the other what happened recently. 

Shamefully, he kept the System and the power boost he had a secret from you and only told you about the dungeons he cleared. How he was better now and could afford things like medical bills and rent, so you didn’t need to lend him a hand. Effortlessly, you told him everything was going on with your life without many secrets he could sense; it was all so natural to you. Even the part about some colleagues asking you out.

It got him thinking. The situation between you two. Can one really call it a romantic relationship? When the two of you met up after so long, you two shared a meal and he found it hard to even share his mind and situation. There wasn’t much romantic love going on, more like close friends getting together. If people were to see the two of you on the streets, unless you two were holding hands or Jinwoo have his arm over your shoulder, you two looked more like friends.

Just friends. Maybe best friends..?

That’s why he did what he did without remorse. Without realizing his fault. Without realizing the heartbreak he gave you.

Jinwoo thought it was fine to just downgrade you to the status of ‘friends’ instead of staying loyal as your romantic partner. Instead of even trying to revive this distant and strained relationship.

When Cha Hae-In appeared in the picture, he thought ‘This is love’, so he pursued it. A unique bond and connection unlike any other. He was slow to it, but it was worth it, he thought. There was that skip in his heart and minor butterflies in his stomach, so it had to be, right?

A date with Hae-In in the amusement park proved otherwise.

“What a coincidence. Didn’t expect to see you two here.” Choi Jong-In smiled while coming over with an ice cream cone and cup in his hands. “On a date?”

“Guildmaster.” Hae-In bowed his head in respect, though one could notice the blush on her face. “What are you doing here?”

“A causal outing with a friend of mine.” Jong-In answered. He raised his hands to gesture at the icy treat. “Was put on ice cream duty cause I flinched during a roller coaster ride.”

Hae-In laughed, “How does anyone notice that? They’d have to be staring at you the whole time.”

Jong-In nodded along with a smile, “You’re right; this friend of mine really was doing that the entire time, only cause staring at me was better than the ride and wanting free ice cream. I’m happy to oblige either way.”

“Jong-In! What’s taking you so long?!”

The familiar voice made Jinwoo’s head snap over to the side. There you were, walking through the crowd, panting a bit from a suspected run and dodging other people. He did notice a mid-freeze from you, but you continued to walk in his direction.

“Speak of the devil.” Jong-In chuckled and met you halfway, “Slow down, I’m not going anywhere.”

You glared at the fire mage and snatched the ice cream cup, “I’m scared my ice cream would melt! I didn’t care about you!”

“Ouch.” Jong-In playfully acted hurt.

You looked over Jong-In’s shoulder to see Jinwoo and Hae-In. You nodded your head in their direction and greeted them, “Hunter Sung and Hunter Cha. It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise.” Hae-In nodded, while Jinwoo only managed to nod without a word of exchange.

There was silence in the air, Jinwoo can’t help but stare at you, making you nudge closer to Jong-In’s side. A flame burned in his chest at your actions. He didn’t fail to notice how you tugged at Jong-In’s sleeve before the fire mage spoke up, “Well, it’s about time we head our way. Have a good time you two.”

Ironically, this time when you turned and left him, he wanted to chase after you. Just as he took one step and his lips parted, a weight on his arm grounded him. He looked down to see Hae-In shily smiling up at him. “Do you want to try what they did? Sounds fun!”

Right, you have had the best ideas to light up your times together. You can turn dull activities to something worthwhile.

“Let’s.”

As time passed, he found himself longing for your presence more and more. He’d see you while it was Hae-In he was spending his time with, scroll through your past chats with him (he’d see you online and offline from other chats presumably), and even hesitate to call you from time to time. He was always able to stop himself from actually calling you or texting you at the last second, swiftly coming to a sense of guilt. 

Then he buried himself in fights. Dungeons, worldly events, extra quests from the System. Anything to keep himself and his mind off of you, to remind himself why he said those words to you in the first place. It was his Hunter role that made things different, so he thought he’d be happier while attaching himself with a talented Hunter like Hae-In. However, in the end, all he only managed to do was foster more and more guilt and ache from his decision to be apart from you.

His blasted mind kept going back to the scene of you with Jong-In. He did know of your friendship with the man, that you had met him during your college days, an experience that he had to cut short due to his urgent need for money. Thinking back, why you didn’t first break up with him to go to Jong-In was a miracle. Since he was a lowly E-Rank and Jong-In was a successful S-Rank.

What a fool he was to give you up just like that.

He made attempts to see you again; the least he could do was treat you as a friend when he was such a heartbreaker. Through the eyes of his Shadows, he searched for you. Yet, every time, you were busy with your work or you were with some friends of yours. It looked as though you were well off without him, while he was wallowing in his own self-created sorrow. Your smiles without him was like a stab in his heart time and time again. Why did you stay with him when you were far better without him?

Silently, he sent his Shadows to protect you from any dangers. Call it a sixth sense or something, there was this uncanniness of you always glaring in the direction of where his Shadows were, as if you could tell he was looking at you and when.

.

.

.

“Will you allow me to call you mine?” Jinwoo asked the big question on his knee while you stared at him with your hands covering your mouth, obviously hiding a gasp. 

! NOTIFICATION

[WOULD YOU LIKE TO RESTART THE WORLD?]

YES NO

Words wouldn’t form and your eyes started to water. The only thing you managed to do was nod your head repeatedly, showing him that dazzling smile of yours and the echo of your laughter surrounded him.

! NOTIFICATION

[WOULD YOU LIKE TO RESTART THE WORLD?]

YES NO

Jinwoo rose to hug you. His arms opened and reached for you, yet the moment you were within arm’s reach, you faded to nothing. The smile on his face and the giddy feeling in his chest all disappeared like it was never there, replaced with an ache in his heart.

Jinwoo’s hand clenched as he stared at the spot where you once were. Imprinting into his mind that that was a reality he should have made come true and not here. “I know that all of this is an illusion…”

.

.

.

When the war was won and the Monarch of Destruction was no more, he had kneeled down in exhaustion. His mind hallucinated that you would be there to hug him. His ear would be against your chest as you would hug his head to close to you, you had always used your own heartbeat as his calming music after the deadly raids. It was the most melodic tune he had ever heard in his life. It would be fast initially, then slowed down to soft beats that his heart would follow. 

Of course, he’d never have the luxury of that anymore.

If only he had one more chance. “Just once more.” If only he hadn’t been so stupid to make that mistake. Your presence, your voice, your heart, your smile, your love. He could have it all again. If only he had a chance to start over. “Could I use the Cup of Reincarnation just once more?”

Soon. He’ll see you again.

.

.

.

My nightmare is over, and now, I’m with my younger sister, my mother who’s healthy, and my father who didn’t disappear. I was given the last chance to set everything right. I won’t lose this opportunity. I can now rewrite the future that is to come. But, just for a little… Isn’t it okay for me to just treasure this peace that I’m feeling? As a reward for myself.

He knew his duty and he knew when he’d meet you. High school was the fated time and place where the two of you left in love and started going out. This time, he’d fall in love with you and cherish you. Only you. Without the whole thing with gates and Hunters, he wouldn’t have to leave you to attend college. This time, he could attend college with you. By your side.

First. He has to deal with the Monarchs.

.

.

.

Jinwoo stayed seated as he stared at the melting buckles of ice cream he left untouched. The sweetness from the cold dessert had lost its flavour. To be thrown away after one’s purpose is fulfilled was a terrible feeling. Was this for you left when you were abandoned by him all that time ago? He hated this feeling and he hated himself for not realizing it sooner.

Just then he turned his head to the side, the glass showed the streets outside and the people that crowded it because of the giant gate he made for his return. His eyes weren’t mistaken. It had to be. There you stood, a younger form from what he recalled, but definitely you. You were staring at the ice cream shop’s menu with a thinking face before looking down to your phone and started moving once more.

He practically leapt out of his seat and ran to the doors. He saw your back disappear into the crowd and the call of your name from someone, someone he didn’t think would be there with you. Then you were gone again. He could have sent his Shadows to search for you or follow you, but it wasn’t a meeting that would do him much favour. In time, he’d meet you in high school. 

To wait a while longer then…

Manhwa Scene Used (just in case any of you wanna re-read): 161 (illusion with Reader), 179 (Jinwoo’s return & ice-cream shop)

Note: A bit longer, but it's cause Jinwoo's POV is bits and pieces since he needed to balance his depression and saving the world. You know, hero/MC stuff.

This got dragged on for posting cause I got annoyed with the people asking when/where's part 2 when there are responses above theirs already. Please just check before you ask something. It's not that hard, guys...

Part 3 in the works, no promises on when it'll be out

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: @my-arietta @mydearestbeloved @skylar896 @o-qi-shisme @the-dumber-scaramouche @mochinon-yah @waka-babe @ditmemay1234 @mangooes @cottonbeeeeeeee @gurlie919

[otter-trotter]

WICKED SCENE REWRITE - WHAT IF GALINDA WAS IN FIYERO'S PLACE FOR THE CUB SCENE???

with the existence of the, "you could've picked me" deleted scene, I offer you a timeline in which Elphie was lesbphaba and DID choose Galinda!!!

TAGS: not at all like the og scene lmao, lots of banter, vulnerable glinda, VERY vulnerable elphaba, glinda has depth, GELPHIE, angst/fluff, NOT proofread and i havent written fic in a hot min so sorry in advance 🫶

》》

“…what are we gonna do?”

Elphaba looks to the duo beside her expectantly, hoping they'd understand the urgency of this situation— Fiyero looks taken aback with wide eyes,

“I'm sorry, we?"

Elphaba is seemingly taken aback by his words as he was hers, and before her anger boils into her magic, she catches a glimpse. Galinda, her eyes wide and expecting, not seeming in daze at all, not shuttering at the thought of what in Oz Elphaba's plan could be.

“Well, someone has to do something—” The flowers her nails are gripping into, crinkling the parchment, slam against wood, pollen dusting across the room. Her thoughts quiet as she watches as each and every one or her classmates slowly succumb to sleep - all except for one.

She looks to her right to see Galinda gingery lowering Fiyero's head to the desk with a gasp, looking around with furrowed brows. Suddenly, she gasps for air, looking to Elphaba with blown out cheeks before frantically spitting out words, quickly closing her mouth again.

“Elphie, am I allowed to breath?”

“Oh my— yes, yes, breath, Galinda. If you didn't topple over instantly like the rest, you're fine.”

The green girl mutters, her eyes finding the shimmering gold cage keeping that poor, now snoozing, lion cub captivate. She hears Galinda release all the air from her lungs and pant, before hearing her heels shimmy behind Fiyero. Elphaba's eyes dart up as Galinda delicately hurries down the steps of the lecture hall, quickly fiddling with the latch of the cage. Before she can even process the view, the blonde is cooing softly to the sleeping cub, gently cradling it's limp form in her arms before her eye's meet Elphie's,

“What now?”

“I-I don't have a plan, Galinda!”

“You don't need one, do you? This cub certainly can't stay here and…” She leans down as the small animal yawns, smiling wide and wiggling her nose against it's,

“Now, we have the opportunity to get somewhere less scary and dark and traumatizing, isn't that right? Who could ever cage you…”

The other girl's mind scatters as she searches to make sense of what the seemingly peaceful blonde has set in motion. She takes a deep breath and steps over Fiyero, Galinda quickly unbuttoning her top blazer button and nuzzling the cub into the warmth of the fabric, following as Elphie darts for the door.

They hastily make it to an outdoor entryway to Shiz, spotting two bikes leaning against a banister. It's a miracle they made it with Galinda’s insistent questions as to where they were heading, seeming in good faith but not helping Elphaba's brain scramble.

“The forest, we'll take ‘em to the forest.”

She finally decides as she picks up both bikes and looks off into the distant wood, Galinda quickly gripping a bike and leaning the cub into the basket attached to it's rear, smiling as wide as her face will allow as it snuggles in,

“I mean, our dorm is rather big… it's a suite, after all… and we're both very nurturing…”

She starts and Elphaba just snorts, hopping on her bike and starting to slowly pedal, allowing Galinda to frantically start on her own before picking up speed. The silence of the churning pedals doesn't last long,

“We could name him something depressingly dark!! Maybe even fear-inducing? Elphie, I'll beg!”

“Him?”

“Mhm?” Galinda hums casually, leaving Elphaba to hesitantly mumble,

“Did you… check his…?” She hears the girl gasp as if looking at an animal's genitals would be obscene,

“No, no!! His eyes told me, they were fierce and hearty—” She cuts herself off just as they enter the terrain of the forest, keeping the silence for a moment before letting out a stubborn huff, “Then again, your eyes are like that as well, Elphie. I suppose it's a strength thing, really, rather than a sex determination.”

Elphaba can hear a lightbulb spark above Galinda’s head as she gasps, hardly giving her the time to process the blonde seeing her eyes as strong, whatever that could mean…

“Oh, Elphie! Can we name her ‘Elphie’?”

Elphaba breaks her bike and allows her movements to slow and ease as Shiz is nearly out of sight, leaning the hunk of metal against a nearby tree. The calm allows her to turn attention to Galinda's absurdity.

“Wouldn't that get confusing? Also, frankly, we wouldn't be talking to that cub much longer.” She can't help but smirk as the heartbreaking news hits Galinda like a truck, the blonde slowly picking up the little lion and kissing it's forehead as it yawns again,

“Aw, I know, Elphie, I know…” She coos into its fur, the softness in her voice while using Elphaba's name (of which she's come accustomed to) leaving a soft warmth in Elphaba's stomach. She knows she's talking to the poor animal who certainly deserves the comfort more but, that doesn't at all affect the way the girl now feels grounded, strengthened.

Galinda carefully walks to a small ditch of water, hunching up her skirt with a small gag before pressing her porcelain knees to the dirt. She sets the cub into the pond, clapping her hands from joy as it does a small bounce of discovery.

Elphaba simply watches, now pondering. Without the adrenaline, she starts to wonder - why hadn't the pollen taken Galinda? Had it chosen to spare her, was it apart of Elphaba's subconscious? Was this something she could hone and control—

“Elphie, you're thinking rather loudly.” The silence is broken as the blonde keeps her back turned, her tone unreadable - which is strange for Galinda.

“Oh, uh, sorry.”

“Oh, no, it's not a complaint. Just, I've noticed you do that. I can hear the gears turn in that brilliant mind of yours.”

She giggles with the admission and Elphaba can feel her cheeks heat up - she's not sure if it's from being observed or from the compliment, but, Galinda's cheering giggle as the cub splashes down into the water certainly doesn't calm it,

“Well, uh… If you're curious, I'm thinking about the flowers in the classroom.” The blushing girl mutters as she kneels down next to the other, less-flustered girl. Galinda’s shoulders tense softly, practically unnoticeably at Elphaba's words. They hang in the quiet forest ambience before Galinda clears her throat,

“Why didn't I fall asleep, Elphie?” There's a strange, unfamiliar vulnerable to her tone as Galinda whispers, her brown doe eyes finding Elphaba's own. Elphaba stiffens, almost cringing at the unfamiliar sight - not that it isn't welcome but, what's bringing it on?

“I'm, I'm not sure. I mean, it can't be luck.”

“I surely hope not.” She smiles with her words, finding the green-eyed girl's gaze again without an ounce of vulnerability lost, “In all honesty, I hope you chose me, somehow.”

The words hang in the air as their eyes stay interlocked, Elphaba's heart thudding in her chest. She takes a sharp breath before looking away, knowing damn well she can't process a thing with her eyes sparkling expectantly, beautifully, like that.

“And,” The blonde starts again as she adjusts, reluctantly letting her skirt touch the dirt as she shifts towards Elphie, as if trying to elaborate, “I don't expect you to know. I don't need an answer. I just, hope.”

“Why?” the question blurts out far to harshly than intented and Galinda simply stiffens a bit with a grounding chuckle, seeming almost nervous.

“Because that would mean you trust me. With even the parts you can not control, you trust me.” Her usual cheerful tone has taken to a softened whisper, making the green girl's skin shiver. The blonde's attention is quickly back on the thristing cub, encouraging the animal as it laps up water. Elphaba just stays silent, stunned.

Despite how much her and Galinda have grown close in such a short time, it had never even crossed her mind that it was something the blonde had actively noticed and consciously thought of. She'd already dolled Elphaba up and they've told stories back and forth but she'd never seemed to want anything with deeper-roots. Perhaps, however, Elphaba had been the one without that desire. All her hesitance with Galinda was gone except for that building block, trust. Galinda was arrogant at times and often only remembered atrocities and discrimination as they are in history books, never looking deeper, never caring to.

Yet, she'd sprung at the opportunity to help Elphaba, acting before the girl with the actual passion in this endeavor could think. Perhaps their friendship was all the passion she'd needed. Perhaps.

“Why were you so eager to help me? Was trust really your motivation?”

The black hair girl's words immediately catch the blonde's attention as she's rubbing beneath the cub’s tired eyes. Her gaze then turns to Elphaba, trailing down to the sunken skin that matched the animal that shared her name. Galinda swallows as she hesitantly sits up a bit,

“You were my motivation, yes. I mean, you were so passionate, I couldn't help it. If you care then, I care. It's…”

Her voice trails off as she gently reaches forward, cupping the girl before her's cheek and running her thumb along the bag beneath her eye, “It's as simple as that.”

Just as she begins to hear the gears turn, she hears the thump in Elphie's chest, her palm beginning to warm as Elphaba blushes bright. She can't help but smile, just as wide as she had with the cub, who was now frolicking and sniffing around the pond. Something about making Elphie crack, just putting a small dent in her tight-knit walls of security - it made Galinda's stomach swirl like she's never felt before, an unfamiliar thrill.

Elphaba, however, was experiencing a different excitement. Of being wanted. Never in her life had she ever felt the security of that, of being desired in anyway that was vulnerable and true - yet, here Galinda was, gazing into her as if she were all she could possibly want. Elphaba can't stop herself from sinking into the soft girl's palm and, just as she couldn't stop that, she doesn't even realize as she begins to cry.

She only comprehends her shallow sobs as Galinda, frantically, pulls her closer, clearly taken aback but jumping on the opportunity of comfort. She rests Elphaba's forehead to her shoulder, one hand gently cradling her face as the other gently rubs her back. Her gentle tone coos into her ear, with the same genuine calm it had held at the Ozdust ball. How Galinda was always getting her so emotional? Oz knows. Elphaba doesn't even want to ponder anything as she sinks into Galinda's chest, letting her tears soak the already dirty blazer but quickly sniffling and quieting herself.

“You're okay, Elphie, I'm here…”

The blonde pulls Elphie's face up slightly, just to look into her as she whispers soft comforts to her, the kind that threaten Elphaba's tear ducts to burst again. To force them closed, Elphaba starts to softly unbutton the blonde's blazer, knowing that the grime will quickly come to her attention and drive her mad,

“Oh— thank you, Elphie, you don't have to…” Galinda almost sounds breathless as Elphaba shimmys the sleeves off her arms, her delicate cheeks slightly flushing from the other girl's proximity. She almost feels shameful at her fluster, seeing as how the girl causing the warmth was just sobbing into her mere moments ago.

“Let me do this for you.”

The words brust against Galinda's ear, breathy and soft, making her heart sink to her stomach and her throat clench. Elphaba stands with the blazer and slings it over her bike, dinging the bell with a smirk,

“We should, um, likely get going.”

“Yes, yes, right, of course.” Galinda quickly jumps to her feet, dusting off her disgusting skirt and turning back, gazing into Elphie's eyes one last time. Well, not truly. This would just be the last time they belonged to her furry friend,

“Bye, Elphie!!” She calls out before hopping on her bike, watching as the cub moves deeper into the wood, the only sound besides the echoing branches being Elphaba's amused cackle.

They ride off, back towards Shiz, Galinda's eyes trained on her blazer, gingerly bouncing over Elphaba's shoulder. The thought of the dirt and tears and what would look like battle scars getting all over Elphaba's clothes would normally disgust her but, the fact that Elphaba chose for it to be so almost makes it darling.

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER NINE

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur thelightknight21 wc: 9.9k notes: with the 1st pick in the 2025 wnba draft, the dallas wings select... the IRP masterlist, lee university! cringe i know but it's the last chapter, let me be happy. i wrote the first half of this chap before the providence game, felt like a witch once the starting lineup dropped, currently manifesting the rest of this chapter ages just as well (my ball knowledge is limited, if the game doesn't make sense just let me be delusional, i dont give a gaf). smut warning, who's surprised. fluffier than chapter 6 methinks. tried to fulfill the nice/gentle P agenda, may have fumbled the bag bc this somehow felt more filfthy? kinda short too idk lmk 😩 not proofread, i'll probably come back later to edit. sorry for yapping (no im not) but i hope you all enjoyed reading irp as much as i enjoyed writing it, thank you for sending in such sweet comments and engaging in the inbox, they were genuinely so motivating and i loved interacting w y'all 🫶 as always i hope we're rocking w this final chapter 🙂‍↕️

‘The Return of Tess Kennedy’

A little over two years ago, college basketball sensation Tess Kennedy tore her ACL in the Final Four matchup between the University of Iowa Hawkeyes and the South Carolina Gamecocks. Kennedy, who’d amassed fifteen points close to the end of the third quarter, was a pivotal element to South Carolina’s game – Iowa struggled to lock her down. Kennedy stepped off wrong and collapsed on court. Many knew what had happened long before the news broke. Her recovery was far from easy, but Kennedy did the impossible and recovered just in time for the SEC championship and the March Madness tournament, where she led South Carolina to a redemption win over Iowa with a dominating 30 points. Following the win, Kennedy shared a photo of herself holding the championship trophy, one eye closed in a wink and her lips curled into a smug snarl, and captioned it, “took a year off to cut you bitches some slack, tell a friend to tell a friend tess kennedy’s back.”

Many athletes often need a long period of adjustment after returning from a serious injury. Kennedy, however, played as though that statistic did not apply to her. Kennedy played as though she had something to prove. A loud majority of fans speculated that Kennedy fought so fiercely because her girlfriend, Paige Bueckers, and the UConn Huskies had been eliminated by Iowa in the Final Four match only two days prior to the championship. A smaller few claimed Kennedy holds a grudge against Iowa for her injury – although Kennedy disputed this theory in a presser, linked here.

The simplest truth of the matter is that Kennedy did not play any sort of way for anyone but herself and her team. She proved to herself that she could come back even better from an injury that she thought would uproot her life. She played for her team, who uplifted her during recovery and gave her the tools and the support to show up and show out when the world was watching. Kennedy played the way she did because that’s just what Tess Kennedy does.

During South Carolina’s 2024 Senior Night, Kennedy announced that she would stay at South Carolina for another year of college basketball. She cited her injury as the source of her decision. She explained that there is still more recovery for her to do and that she did not feel comfortable declaring for the draft with only five games post-injury under her belt, especially since she was under a minute restriction during those games. We believe that decision is the best she could have made for herself.

Throughout the 2024-2025 regular season, Kennedy has averaged 26.2 points per game, 4.3 steals per game, 3.7 blocks per game, and 3.2 assists per game. Since her injury, she’s turned into both an offensive and defensive dual threat, leading the South Carolina offense with help from Raven Johnson, MiLaysia Fulwiley, and Te-Hina Paopao. Coach Dawn Staley describes Kennedy as “unguardable” from the perimeter and “unstoppable” from the midrange. Coach Staley also notes that Kennedy’s midrange improvements have pleasantly surprised her as Kennedy was usually a reliable three-point specialist. Coach Staley would not elaborate on where Kennedy’s sudden game adjustments have come from, but one basketball analyst noted that Kennedy’s midrange proficiency looks stunningly like girlfriend Paige Bueckers’s. This is not surprising in the slightest as Kennedy and Bueckers spent the offseason together on a joint “world-tour” that evidently included lots and lots of time in the gym.

The SEC tournament has come and gone with, you guessed it, South Carolina as the winner, having defeated Tennessee and LSU back to back. South Carolina dominated the first five rounds of the NCAA tournament. In the Final Four, they defeated UCLA in a convincing 78-71 victory. For the championship match, they’re against UConn, who is fresh off of a hard-fought Final Four victory against Notre Dame.

This is precisely the clash of the titans that basketball fans have been looking forward to since June of 2023. UConn vs. South Carolina. Bueckers vs. Kennedy. This is a rematch for the 2022 championship game wherein UConn fell short, but many are questioning South Carolina’s ability to go back to back, especially since UConn has seen tremendous growth over the past season. With a healthy Azzi Fudd and a healthy Aubrey Griffin, sharpshooters Ashlynn Shade and Allie Ziebell, energetic KK Arnold and Morgan Cheli, imposing Jana El-Alfy, transfer portal weapon Kaitlyn Chen, do-it-all field general Paige Bueckers, and Sarah Strong – no title, Sarah Strong is that girl – UConn is a fan favorite to win. With the final tipoff only an hour away, we are at the edge of our seats in anticipation. Let us know in the comments below – who are you rooting for?

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

APRIL 6, 2025

If there’s one thing that Tess knows is true about Paige Bueckers after over a year of dating, it’s that Paige always keeps her promise.

You and me, same time next year?

Tess watches her warm up only a half court away. She’s stunning, donning a UConn sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, her hair up in her gameday braids that Tess has full intention of ruining later after her girlfriend is crowned an NCAA champion. That thought alone shouldn’t excite her as much as it does, but she can’t help herself. Paige and her team have worked incredibly hard to be here – Tess has gotten to witness that first hand. She also can’t help feeling a little smug because she was right. Kaitlyn Chen, transfer portal weapon. Freshmen Morgan Cheli and Allie Ziebell – they both needed a few games to get comfortable, but once they were hot, they were hot. And finally, Sarah fucking Strong, Paige’s freshman menace that honestly needs to declare right now because college basketball will not be safe with her on the court.

Tess has no intention of rolling over and letting them win – Paige would honestly break up with her, which would ruin the entirety of Tess’s five year plan: get drafted. Win some shit. Dunk on Paige Bueckers. Marry Paige Bueckers. Free agency. Simple and easy. But Tess also knows that UConn will be playing with something to lose, a chip to win, and that they were easily the most challenging match-up they’d faced all year with the exception of the final SEC teams. UConn defeated them at home, even after Tess dropped 20 hard fought points – they honestly just had no answer for Sarah Strong, which is becoming a recurring theme as of late.

“Oh my God, not this shit again,” Raven complains. Tess turns just in time to catch the ball that Raven had definitely aimed at her ass.

“Stop throwing balls at me!” Tess exclaims, chucking the ball back.

“Stop staring at your girlfriend!” Raven retorts. “Like, for real. It’s making me sick. Do you want me throwing up before a natty match?” Tess pauses, tapping her chin dramatically like she has to truly think about it. “I wish you’d declared last year. That way I wouldn’t have had to deal with all of this ‘when will my wife come back from war’ bullshit.”

Tess rolls her eyes. “Where’s Chloe at? I suddenly have an opening in my bridal party.”

“Wait, no!” Raven says quickly, her entire expression shifting. “You can’t kick me out of the wedding. I didn’t even know I was in it!”

“You weren’t,” Tess states bluntly, which makes Raven huff again. “Kam’s my maid of honor, obviously. Then Aliyah’s coming, Bree, Destanni, Zia. Do you think I can get A’ja there?”

Raven looks her up and down, unimpressed. “No,” she says flatly. “You’ll be marrying a Husky.”

Tess lights up. “Oh my God, I can get Stewie there. That’d be cool, too.”

“How about you pump the brakes and lock the fuck in so your girlfriend doesn’t embarass us?” Raven suggests. “Like, did that ever cross your mind?”

She shrugs sheepishly. “I’m locked in,” she says. “Go do your weird pregame rituals, sacrifice a chicken or something.”

Raven rolls her eyes, stalking away with her ball. Tess watches her try to sweet talk an assistant coach into rebounding for her and she can’t help but smile. She’ll miss Raven when she’s in the league – sure, they’ll keep in contact, but it’s different when you’re no longer a few doors down from everyone. She’ll miss all of her girls. Not Ashlyn, though. The charges may have been dropped but assault and battery and kidnapping? Is nobody the least bit concerned? Tess digresses, though. She’s gonna miss her team, especially annoying ass Raven Johnson who likes throwing shit at people.

Before she returns to her own warmups, Tess looks across the court once more. Paige is already staring at her. They share a soft, private smile – and then Paige is grabbing Sarah by the sleeve of her shirt, causing her shot to sail out of bounds as Paige points at her with a proud smile that clearly says look at my freshman! Sarah looks unbelievably confused at first, but levels Paige with a nasty side eye once she realizes that she’s been dragged in as a ploy to tease Tess. She shrugs out of Paige’s grasp to continue shooting which makes Tess laugh and Paige huff dramatically.

The both of them resume their warmups and before they know it, tip off has come around. Paige, Sarah, Azzi, Jana, and Kaitlyn are starting for UConn, whereas Raven, Chloe, Tess, Sania, and Te-Hina are starting for South Carolina. Both teams set up around Chloe and Jana to receive the opening tip, and once the referee throws the ball into the air, Jana knocks it over to the Huskies. Sarah kicks it out to Paige, who begins directing traffic as she brings the ball up court. Tess, tasked with guarding Azzi, sticks on her like glue, trying to not let her get her hands on the ball. Raven’s defense is suffocating, but Sarah gets open and Paige passes it swiftly to her. As Chloe and Sania fold in on her to prevent the shot, Sarah passes to Jana, who gets the easy layup under the bucket. Sania inbounds to Raven. She’s delayed in bringing the ball up due to Kaitlyn’s defensive pressure, and, much to Tess’s surprise, Paige is guarding her and Azzi is on Te-Hina.

Raven dribbles, directing the other four on the court while trying to keep the ball far away from Kaitlyn, but the congestion becomes too much and she passes it to Te-Hina. Azzi’s defense is relentless, too, and eventually, Te-Hina passes to Sania, who passes to Tess on the wing, and she knows she can’t get crafty. She and Paige spent the entire summer in the gym together. Paige knows her moves as well as she knows her own, which is why she keeps pressing her further and further away from the three point line and Jana angles herself to clog her lane to the bucket. The clock is winding down, so she makes the decision to squeeze past Paige, driving to the bucket, but at the last moment, she passes it behind her back to where she knows Sania is waiting. She shoots and it swishes in.

The first quarter is incredibly close. Every time South Carolina gets a defensive stop, UConn responds with one of their own. A two-point jumper is countered by a layup, Azzi and Tess go three for three. Tess steals the ball on one possession, although Chloe gives it right back as she tries to get smart on a pass. By the first media timeout, Tess has five points, two assists, and a steal, although UConn leads them 14-12. Both teams take the time to sub out and let some of the starters rest. Bree, Ashlyn, MiLaysia, and Joyce come in for Tess, Chloe, Te-Hina, and Sania respectively while KK, Aubrey, Ashlynn, and Ice enter for Kaitlyn, Sarah, Azzi, and Jana.

Once play resumes, Tess almost immediately understands the game plan. Raven guards Paige on UConn’s offensive possessions, but when South Carolina has the ball, Paige guards MiLaysia, a high scoring guard just like Tess. Depending on who is on the floor, KK or Kaitlyn defend Raven or whoever is running point for South Carolina at the time. Raven’s defense is suffocating, but most of all, exhausting – tasking someone else with guarding Raven gives Paige more opportunities to score rather than tire herself out, but her own defensive assignments are focused on shutting down South Carolina’s point producing guards. Tess was held to five points with Paige on her, shooting only two out of her five attempted shots. She wasn’t completely useless, though – she held Azzi to six points, congesting two of the four shots she took.

She sits for the rest of the first quarter. The score is up to 25-20 in UConn’s favor and all of the starters are back on the court for the second quarter. It’s hard fought, too. There’s not a lot of foul calls going either way tonight, but the lead is so slim that Tess doesn’t want to overstep on defense and give away points. At 31-24 in favor of UConn, Paige is subbed out for KK, which means Tess finally gets a bit of a breather on defense. KK is unrelenting, but Paige had played a little closer, a much tighter game as she knew Tess so well as a player. She couldn’t even be mad about that, although she did take advantage of two back-to-back threes, pushing the score to 34-30. UConn still has a slight lead, but Paige gets subbed back in. Tess knows she has to play smarter now and take better shots.

Halfway through the second quarter, Raven gets subbed out for a breather, too, and UConn immediately puts the pressure on Maddy, not used to the intensity that the UConn starters were playing with. Kaitlyn forces a turnover, sailing it high to Paige, who lays it in the basket with ease and winks at Tess as she passes her to get back on defense. In response, Tess calls for the ball and Maddy passes it to her. She doesn’t call for a screen or any sort of help as she steps back, shooting for three directly over Paige’s head. They watch it both fall in seamlessly, much to the crowd’s amusement, and Tess sticks up her fingers in an ‘L’ shape as she backpedals for defense. Paige shakes her head, amused, but at 41-38, the both of them know they need to lock back in.

The two teams trade a few more shots and stops before the end of the quarter, entering half with 47-41, UConn leading. Paige also hit a nasty buzzer beater to welcome in halftime, which sent the UConn bench and the crowd into a frenzy, but Tess doesn’t think that’s something important to note. Paige doesn’t need the ego boost and it wasn’t that cool, anyways. If Tess wanted to, she could have had a better buzzer beater.

In the locker room, Coach Staley emphasizes the need for defensive stops while the team catches their breath. Ball movement and being selective with shooting was also important – as a team, they were shooting 39% and taking far too many contested shots when there were wide open players on the wing. Tess honestly couldn’t be doing much more – she’d racked up 16 points. Joyce and Te-Hina were doing their thing too, but UConn was overwhelming. Their points were far more widespread with Aubrey, Sarah, Azzi, and Paige leading the pack. Ashlynn had two crucial three point shots, KK was critical on defense as she was forcing turnovers and fastbreak points, and Tess has never seen anyone hustle for rebounds like Morgan does. UConn was playing a cohesive game and they were struggling to respond in full.

The second half goes similar to the first, although UConn starts to make a concerted effort to break away. They’re playing with a renewed vigor and while Azzi, Paige, and Ashlynn were crucial in the first half, they start scoring a lot more points in the paint. Sarah, Jana, and Aubrey are particularly explosive and Ice holds her own when she subs in halfway through the third to give Jana a break. Defensively, they’re all restless – they’d played so conservatively in the first half while South Carolina tried to wear them out that their energy is overwhelming and is exhausting South Carolina. By the end of the third, UConn had extended the lead to 67-56. Tess is up to 26 points now, but it’s not doing enough to clear the deficit.

All of the starters are back on the floor at the beginning of the fourth for one last push, and for a while, it works. South Carolina holds out UConn and they go on a 9-0 scoring run, evening the score to 67-65 with three minutes left. Paige hits a long three, increasing the lead to five points, Azzi forces Te-Hina to turn the ball over and she sprints for the basket, although she passes behind her to Sarah for the finish, and Tess is a little too strong on her three point jumper and it bounces off the rim directly into Kaitlyn’s hands. She scores, pushing the score to 74-65. One minute, thirty seconds left.

The last bit of the game is frantic. Tess and South Carolina try to get the lead back, but UConn is unrelenting, pushing against them on every possession. Jana scores. Sania scores. Kaitlyn shoots, but Raven blocks it. Chloe scores on the fastbreak, and with twenty seconds left, the game is up to 78-69 with UConn steady in the lead. There’s no coming back from this gap and UConn has the ball. Tess thinks Paige just plans on dribbling it out, but as the clock winds down, five…four…three…two… she shoots from the perimeter, the shot clock expiring, and the last three, the nail on the head, swishes in cleanly as the crowd erupts. UConn had just won the 2025 national championship, and all Tess feels is overwhelming relief.

Confetti pours down, covering every inch of the court as all of the Huskies swarm and pile on one another. Paige’s smile is bright, beaming, and Tess swears she can see the tears streaming from afar. Then, they lock eyes, Paige in the middle of a bunch of jostling, and she has the decency to look a little sad for her, but honestly, Tess doesn’t care. She grins at her girlfriend, making a heart with her hands. The relief is palpable on Paige’s expression but Tess knows she needs the time to celebrate with her teammates, so she turns away, patting her own teammates on the back and murmuring her own congratulations.

Sania and Joyce were explosive in the paint. A vast majority of their points had come from them and Tess, but it just wasn’t enough to beat the deficit. Tess would find the stat sheet later, but she racked up 31 points – 61 in two back to back championship games wasn’t too shabby, and honestly, the 31 points feels more like an accomplishment than the win. She’s a competitor, she lives to win and loathes losing, but tonight doesn’t feel like a loss at all, despite what the box score will say. Looking back at everything she’s accomplished, she’s satisfied where she is. She’s grown as a player, as a person. She went from almost being the cause of her end in her junior year to dragging herself out of the deep end, committing to rehab, and winning the natty on the redemption match. This year, she molded herself into a better basketball player, cementing herself in the Gamecock record books – and while she doesn’t have a natty win this year, she’s not mad about it. It’s difficult to describe but at a certain point, the win just doesn’t matter anymore. It’s the journey, growing with your team, and everything you did leading up to it.

Last year, she said she has everything she’s ever wanted, and that much is still true. She has her rings, she has an excellent collegiate career, she has records that will be damn near impossible to beat until the next Tess Kennedy is recruited to South Carolina. She has the best friends in the world, the best girlfriend in the world, her knee is healed, she’s healed, and in less than two weeks, she’ll be drafted to play professionally wherever the wind takes her. The past two years have been the best and the worst time of her life but never will she ever wish that anything occurred differently. It’s all led her to this – her wins, her losses, to Paige. It’s more than she could have ever wished for.

She showers, zones out during the presser until the questions are directed at her, which she answers robotically, uncaring. When she’s out, she locates Paige in the tunnel, who scoops her up with such unadulterated glee and excitement that Tess giggles like a fucking schoolgirl. Paige is fresh, clean, and fuck it, she’s hers, and sue her if she sounds like a broken record, but she just loves her. “Congrats, baby,” Tess says into her neck, feeling Paige squeeze her around the middle before she lowers her to the ground.

“Thank you,” Paige murmurs as she presses a soft, unhurried kiss to Tess’s lips. “Promise you didn’t sell on purpose?”

Tess scoffs, shoving her away with a hand to her chest as Paige laughs, a sound that’s infectious and far too annoyingly charming. “Paige Madison. I dropped 31 on your ass and you think I sold?”

“Locked you down,” Paige says.

“Maybe romantically but not in basketball,” Tess corrects. Paige’s face brightens and Tess can’t help but lean in to kiss her again. “Congrats though, for real.” Paige’s eyes blink open, tilting her head down slightly to gaze at Tess, her expression full of lingering excitement, love, and unequivocal happiness. “You worked so hard for this. I’m proud of you, you know? 28 points, too? Who you showin’ out for?”

Paige laughs at Tess’s impression of her. “For you, always.” Tess can’t help but soften, grinning in that stupid way Paige always elicits. “We’re goin’ out,” she says. “The team, I mean. Some bar Aubrey found. You wanna come with us? You don’t gotta do nothing you don’t wanna and they’re all keepin’ it lowkey, nothin’ crazy–”

“Paige,” Tess interrupts, watching an adorable flush appear on Paige’s cheeks. “Don’t worry about me. Celebrate with your team, okay?”

“I’m always gonna worry about you,” Paige says, a little indignant. “You’re my girl. S’my job. But I want you there if you wanna be there.”

“You’re amazing, and I love you.”

Paige sighs. “Where’s the ‘but?’”

Tess rolls her eyes. “But you need to spend time with your team. Alone, without your unbelievably sexy girlfriend distracting you. You’re gonna miss them once you’re drafted. I need to chill tonight, so I’m gonna play UNO with my girls and stack +4s on Chloe to get her back for missing a layup that would have made our score look a little less pathetic.” Tess kisses the pout off of Paige’s lips. “I could convince Bree to room with Raven tonight?” she suggests intentionally.

“Okay!” Paige agrees quickly, her voice cracking, squeezing Tess’s hips once more, causing her to laugh lightly. Paige presses her lips to Tess’s forehead, the shorter of the two feeling the curve of her smirk. “I’ll see you later. Don’t fall asleep. I love you.”

Tess huffs, which makes Paige grin. She loves being on Tess’s nerves more than anything else. “I love you, too. Have fun and don’t drink anything KK gives you.”

Paige only shakes her head, their noses brushing slightly. “Not drinking. Wanna remember tonight.” Heat rises to Tess’s cheeks as she’s suddenly aware of what the night holds for them, but Paige just smiles at her, releasing her hips and squeezing her hand one last time before she disappears inside the media room for the presser. Tess exhales, shaking her head like an etch-a-sketch to fix her train of thought before she gathers herself and makes her way out to the team bus.

She slides into the seat next to Bree, placing her bag on the floor. “You’re rooming with Raven tonight,” Tess says to her.

Bree stares at her long and hard before her expression hardens. “You’re a fucking freak,” she gripes. “But you’re buying me breakfast tomorrow morning.” In lieu of a response, Tess pulls her wallet out of her pocket and hands over a $20 bill. Bree wrinkles her nose, her face going through the five stages of grief. Tess can’t even bring herself to feel ashamed as Bree takes the money. “God,” she whispers. “Freaks.”

Tess only smiles.

After a couple hours of music and various games, Tess says her final goodbyes to her teammates before she heads back to her room at the end of the hall. Paige had texted her only moments before that she was on her way back to the hotel, which she took as her cue to go. Her teammates gave her knowing looks, but Tess couldn’t find it in herself to be any sort of embarrassed.

Bree had cleared out most of her stuff before they all gathered in Raven’s room for games, but Tess just makes the conscious effort to clean up a little. She knew Paige wouldn’t care. Whether or not Bree’s bed was made would be the last thing on Paige’s mind if Tess had anything to say about it. Despite that, she just wanted it to look nicer for her. Paige had just won a championship, damn it, and she deserves something a little more fitting of that.

Tess isn’t nervous, but she’s almost giddy with anticipation and excitement. The last time she and Paige saw each other was when they played each other in February. They were unable to synchronize their schedules for spring break, so Tess is reasonably going through girlfriend withdrawals. She just wants to be close to Paige – nothing inherently sexual about it, but she misses their intimacy now that they’re always hundreds of miles apart. It will be the same situation when they get drafted – Tess watched the lottery despite everyone’s recommendations not to, but they’ll have a little bit more money and freedom to make the distance work once they’re in the league. But the league is the last thing she wants to worry about right now.

She checks herself one last time in the mirror, satisfied, but she pulls off her South Carolina hoodie, shivering a little at the chill in the room, and rummages through her suitcase until she finds the white jersey tucked underneath the rest of her clothes. A large 5 is emblazoned on the front and the back, the Big East logo on the collar, just a size too big for her – she’d stolen it directly from Paige’s bag when they played each other in February and they hung out after the game, but she supposes her lie was just convincing enough because Paige genuinely thought she left it in the locker room. She pulls the hoodie over her head, not bothering to tuck it into her sleep shorts, and gives herself one last look before smiling.

A knock at the door draws her attention. Finding her resolve, she walks over and opens it, coming face to face with Paige, whose cheeks are slightly flushed from the Tampa heat. “Hey – oh.” Paige stops in her tracks immediately, her eyes wide as she takes in Tess’s attire. Her jaw hangs open slightly as she leans against the door.

Tess laughs, reaching for Paige’s hands and pulling her inside. Paige lets herself be dragged, but she remembers where they are and closes the door, setting the lock without looking away from Tess. “You like?” Tess asks, tugging on the hem of the jersey to showcase Paige’s number. She smiles at Paige, a little smug but also a little breathless. Paige isn’t sure where to look – her face, her jersey, her legs, long and lithe and bare with the exception of a pair of shorts that would otherwise be indecent. “Figured I’d try something new.”

“Do I like?” Paige repeats, sounding a little incredulous. Her voice is rough and Tess shivers, feeling the heat pool low in her belly as Paige rests her hands on her hips, her fingertips brushing the swell of her ass. She pulls Tess into her until there’s barely an inch of space in between them – Tess can feel Paige breathing against her, her breath minty and fresh, her cologne so prominent and heady in the air that Tess’s head spins. “Like doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she murmurs, her lips dragging across the line of Tess’s jaw. Tess tilts her head back, giving Paige more access as she sighs softly. Paige’s fingers bunch in the fabric of her jersey as she noses her way down her neck, pressing wet kisses to her skin. A groan builds low in the back of her throat as she pulls away, her eyes blown wide and slightly out of breath. “D’you have any idea what this does to me?”

Tess chuckles, letting Paige lead her towards the bed, trusting her to not let her fall over. “I think I’m starting to understand,” she says. Paige smiles at her, softening the heat of the moment. Tess can’t help the grin that covers her face as she pulls Paige on top of her, sliding her zip up UConn jacket off of her shoulders. Paige situates herself in the gap created by Tess’s outstretched legs, leaning down to finally press their lips together. Their kiss is tender, lingering, and slow; Paige is deliberate in the way her hand slips under Tess’s jersey, her fingers brushing against her skin, and Tess sighs against her. They part and the expression on Paige’s face is so soft, blissed out like she has everything she’s ever wanted right in front of her. That thought alone fills Tess with an overwhelming amount of love and appreciation that she can’t help her starstruck smile. “You played really well today,” she whispers, working her fingers against Paige’s hair tie as she loosens her braids.

Paige hums, her eyes closing when Tess’s fingers drag across her scalp. “Says you,” she retorts, her head dropping to Tess’s shoulder. Her lips find her neck again, nipping gently and soothing the bite with a pass of her tongue. “31 fuckin’ points?” Paige emphasizes her words with an emphatic groan, her hands pushing up Tess’s jersey and her fingertips just barely breaching under her bra strap. “You tryna go to Dallas?”

Tess laughs, tangling her fingers through Paige’s hair as the blonde hides her smile against her neck. “Nah. That’s all you. I’m very happy going number two.”

Paige scoffs. “Yeah, ‘cause you get Cam and Rickea.”

Tess smiles knowingly, rolling her eyes. “Your hand is literally under my shirt and you wanna talk about other people right now?” Paige glances down, her brows raising and her eyes lingering on just how far the jersey is bunched up, miles upon miles of Tess’s tanned skin on display.

“Take this shit off,” she says, hands reaching for the hem of the jersey. Tess raises her arms compliantly and Paige pulls it over her head, throwing it to the side before leaning down and connecting their lips again. Tess relaxes immediately, circling her arms around Paige’s neck, drawing her in closer and closer until the space between them is negligible. Paige’s hands are warm against her bare skin. One leaves her chest to cup her jaw, her lips slowing, controlling the pace. Every motion is purposeful, deep and lingering, until Paige pulls back just enough that her nose brushes against Tess’s. “Wanna take my time with you.”

“You won,” Tess reminds her, fighting through the burn on her cheeks as Paige presses open-mouthed kisses to her neck, her jaw. “Tonight’s for you.”

“Yeah,” Paige agrees, her mind clearly elsewhere as she pulls her shirt over her head. Tess’s mouth dries instantly, her gaze unashamed as she takes in Paige’s toned figure, the definition of her abs despite the softness of her stomach. She’s equal parts sinew and grace, beautiful beyond any human measurement – Tess would never be able to put Paige’s beauty into words. She transcends language and meaning and Tess is so irrevocably in love that it should scare her; her feelings are overwhelming in the best way possible and Paige doesn’t even know the extent of it.

“Paige,” Tess tries again, her hands reaching up to push Paige’s hair out of her face.

She shakes her head, her hand returning to Tess’s jaw as she kisses her again, taking the very breath from her lungs and relishing in the sigh that she pulls from her throat. Her hand slips lower, her thumb brushing the apple of her throat while her index finger rests on her pulse point, feeling the spike in her heart rate. “Wanna take care of you,” Paige murmurs, the plea evident in her expression when she pulls away. “Want this to last, wanna feel you. Please?” She dips lower, her lips pressing against her skin, and Tess doesn’t have any choice but to let Paige have her way. She nods, her hands finding purchase on Paige’s shoulder blades as Paige descends further, her lips leaving marks over her clavicles.

Paige undresses the both of them with a deliberate slowness. Her hands roam like she’s trying to commit every inch of Tess’s body to memory, her eyes wide in wonder. Paige stares at her like it’s the first time all over again and it makes Tess shiver, feeling warmth all over. They spent the entire offseason together, late nights in hotel rooms much like this one as they travelled. They’re far from the first time, but the fact that Paige still handles her with the utmost care, respect, and devotion only makes her needier.

When they’re both bare, the first press of Paige’s skin against her own is electrifying. She draws Paige in again, connecting their lips, relishing in the soft, unhurried push and pull as Paige’s hands roam. They’re firm around her hips, her thumbs brushing the area where her thighs meet her pelvis. Then they’re trailing up, brushing against her navel, gripping her love handles and the parts of her stomach where she’s more skin than muscle. Further up, Paige’s hands splay out across the lower end of her ribcage. The amount of skin that her hands cover makes Tess ache, but Paige keeps wandering, her hands cupping her breasts, thumbs tweaking her nipples. Tess sighs at the contact and Paige immediately takes advantage of the way her jaw drops, deepening their kiss as Tess holds on to her shoulders for stability.

She can feel the flex of Paige’s muscle, see the way her shoulder blades jut out slightly – it shouldn’t excite her, but it does. She’s firm, solid, soft, and human, a paradox and a myriad of different feelings. Tess can’t help but be attracted to every single thing she does and every single thing she is. God took his time creating Paige, that much Tess was sure of; the fact that Paige is hers, for better, for worse, forever, makes her feel like she needs to be far more thankful than she already is.

Paige pulls back. Tess nearly whines at the loss of contact until she takes in the blown out and messy look on Paige’s face. Her lips are swollen, spit-slick, covered in the lingering smear of Tess’s lip gloss. “Okay?” she asks, her voice rough. The check-in is just a reminder of how much Paige loves her. It never fails to make her heart beat out of her chest.

Tess nods, her hands coming up to smooth out the baby hairs at the back of Paige’s neck, damp with sweat. “Keep going,” she requests, closing her eyes when she feels Paige kiss her cheek, her jaw, the spot under her ear that makes her shiver.

“Wanna try something with you,” she murmurs, squeezing her around the hips, and Tess blinks her eyes open to stare at her. A new, shy sort of flush creeps up her neck and Tess gives her a reassuring kiss.

“Anything,” she says, her voice soft, albeit a little breathless. “You know I trust you.”

Paige glances up, searching her eyes for any hint of falsehood. When she finds none, she leans in, kissing Tess one last time before pulling back. “Tell me to stop and I will,” she says. Tess nods again, waiting with a bated breath as Paige pulls back completely, much to her chagrin, but her hands find her knees, spreading her legs wider, slotting her own legs under and over Tess’s thighs like puzzle pieces, and – Oh. They haven’t even made full contact but her entire body burns. Paige is just as red, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. “Okay?” she asks again, her words sounding a little choked.

Tess nods rapidly, not trusting herself to speak, but her words spill out anyway. “Please,” she says, looping her arms around her neck again. Paige nods, too, her breath a little shaky, but she connects their lips, swallowing the greedy sound that Tess makes when their cores finally align. Her fingers dig into Paige’s shoulders, eliciting a groan from the blonde as she rolls her hips experimentally. Paige is warm against her, slick against her skin, and the brush of her clit against her own nearly makes her soul leave her body.

Her head tilts back, overcome with euphoria and pleasure, and Paige takes advantage immediately. Her lips are on her neck before she has the chance to react, sucking dark, purple marks on her skin, soothing the sting with her tongue. Tess pushes her hips into Paige’s, causing her rhythm to falter and a whine to fall from her lips. Tess really likes that sound, when Paige succumbs to the feelings and lets her hear it. “Fuck,” Paige whimpers. “That’s it.”

That sends a wave of heat directly to Tess’s core. She ruts up again, relishing in Paige’s exhaled moan, the way her elbows shake as she tries to hold herself up. Each and every roll of her hips adds to the tightening band in her stomach, threatening to snap as her pleasure builds – but it feels like she’s reached a plateau. She pushes against her a little faster, trying to chase the high, which forces more of those sounds to tumble from Paige’s mouth. The feel of her skin against hers, sticky with sweat, is intoxicating in the best way possible; the roll of her hips sets her nerves on fire; and when she glances down, her eyes honing in on where their bodies connect, Tess grips her shoulders a little tighter as she cries out, her nails leaving marks in their wake. “Paige,” she gasps, feeling Paige’s nose brush against her collarbone, licking the salt off of her skin. “Talk, please.”

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice a little broken and high-pitched as she holds out, trying to make Tess reach her peak first. The sound of her so wrecked, so destroyed makes Tess tremble beneath her. “Wanted you to – fuck, wanted you to come with me earlier,” she babbles. Tess barely registers that she means the bar. “Wanted to show you off. Tell everyone you’re mine. Wanted to kiss you in front of everyone, take you back here – fuck, Tess, right there – take you back here and show you how much I want you.”

“Keep going, please,” she begs. Tears of pleasure bead at her waterline. The brush of their cunts and the whine in Paige’s voice makes her dizzy with desire.

Paige sighs, the sound getting trapped in her throat as her lips find her ear, her ruts becoming a little more desperate. And when Tess’s hips jump up again, seeking out that pleasure, Paige’s breath catches. She leans her head against Tess’s shoulder, her body tense with the effort of trying to stay composed. “God, there you go,” she murmurs, her breath fanning against the shell of her ear. “Take it, baby, whatever you need – gonna give it to you, I promise.”

Tess whimpers, her grip tightening as she rolls her hips against Paige’s, her pleasure building and nearing the peak as she confesses, “Paige, I’m gonna–”

“That’s it,” Paige whimpers, meeting Tess’s hips with more purpose, more intensity, guiding her closer and closer. When Paige keens into her ear, her voice cracking, “Fuck, I love you – so perfect for me,” Tess falls apart completely, clutching onto Paige as her orgasm washes over her. Paige is right behind her; Tess can feel her release, her body shuddering against her own. They rock together as they ease through the aftershocks, drawing back when the sensitivity becomes too much.

Carefully, Paige extracts herself from Tess, the both of them exhaling when they disconnect. Paige rolls onto the bed next to her, her head finding home on Tess’s chest as she slings an arm across her stomach. Neither of them say anything for a while, sitting in a satisfied silence as they try to catch their breaths. It’s Tess who finally breaks the quiet when she says, “I think you ruined me.”

That makes Paige laugh, still breathless. She cocks her head, meeting Tess’s eyes. Gingerly, she wipes away the tears on her cheeks, smooths out the hair at the crown of her head. “Good,” she murmurs, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to Tess’s lips, a stark contrast from the moment prior. “Gotta trap you so you stay with me forever.”

Tess snorts, brushing her nails against Paige’s jaw and cheek gently. “Trust me, you don’t have to worry about that.” Paige hums, her fingertips tracing patterns against her ribcage as their breathing finally evens out. A few moments pass. “Are you sleeping?” Tess asks, a little shy.

“Yes,” Paige deadpans, but she turns her head again, smiling up at Tess. Her expression is soft, relaxed, blissed out. “What’s up?”

Tess can’t help the smile that breaks out across her face. “I love you,” she says simply.

Paige’s entire demeanor brightens. She tightens her grip around Tess’s middle, drawing in closer and pressing her lips to her chest, directly over her heart. “I love you, too.”

Tess tangles her fingers in Paige’s hair, smoothing out the flyaway strands near her temple. Paige smiles against her, her face tranquil, happy. In a little over a week from now, they’ll be in Brooklyn together for the 2025 draft. They’ll be selected to play in the professional league, which is everything they’ve dreamed of and more, although their dreams have expanded to include each other. Tess has everything she’s ever wanted in life – an outstanding college career, a promising future, Paige, and she can’t wait for the rest of their lives together.

APRIL 14, 2025

Tess can’t believe this is her life right now.

She, her parents, and Bree and Raven are sitting at a table in the Brooklyn Academy of Music, the selected venue for the 2025 WNBA Draft. The energy in the atmosphere is electric – there’s muted chatter, excited hopefuls trying not to freak out about which team will be selecting them. Tess is a mixture of anticipation and nerves. She’s been the predicted number two draft pick for months now, only second to Paige, which she can’t even be upset by. She has a pretty good idea of where she’s going, but she can’t help being worried about dropping in the rankings – the 2025 draft class is full of young talent. She wouldn’t mind Chicago. Playing with Kam again would be amazing, and Washington isn’t bad, either. She is really interested in the Liberty, mostly because they made such a good impression on her during rehab and that’s not something she would ever forget. Unfortunately, the Liberty decided to do the worst possible thing ever and win a championship, which means they’re nowhere close to getting Tess unless they want to trade up and Tess highly doubts they’d be willing to part with their entire roster just for her.

Tess can’t keep her eyes off of Paige. It’s slowly becoming a recurring theme as of late, much to the chagrin of everyone around her, but she can’t help it. She sits only a table away, surrounded by Bob, Amy, Drew, Lauren, and Ryan. The happiness is evident on her face, her hair done up in a ponytail with two loose strands framing her face, and her make-up natural. The real nail on the coffin is the tailored suit she’s wearing. It’s a dark purple in color, nearly black; several buttons on the blazer are undone to reveal the sharp lines of her clavicle and the dark shades of her undershirt. A chain glimmers around her neck, rings adorning her fingers, including the rose thumb ring Tess had gifted her for their first Christmas, before they knew they loved each other. Tess is honestly too much of an overachiever – she picked the finest person in the world to be her girlfriend and now the repercussions of that are coming back to bite her in the ass.

Her stylist – well, Paige’s stylist, Brittany Hampton is the goat – did her big one, too. Brittany has her decked out in a rich, dark, glossy, blue satin dress. Much like Paige’s suit, the shade is dark enough that it almost appears black, but the blue hue sticks out, complementing her complexion perfectly. Her heels match (and most importantly, they’re tall enough that she and Paige are finally eye level). Her jewelry is minimalist, donning her signature bracelet and their charms, along with a gorgeous necklace Paige had bought her for their second Christmas together – the first as an official couple. The both of them look good, probably too good, and Tess is preparing herself to cut someone if they stare at Paige for too long.

Her family and friends try to make small talk to distract her from the looming draft, but her heart isn’t in the conversation. Her mind runs a mile a minute; she’s thinking about all of the iterations of the mock draft – honestly, she should have listened to Paige when she told her not to watch the draft lottery or get too invested in the draft talk, anyhow. She’s thinking about Paige, how she looks so gorgeous at her table; she’s thinking about how Paige’s dreams are coming true right before her and that chokes her up a little bit. Paige was a little kid once, just like her, dribbling a ball that was nearly as big as she was – now she’s here, the predicted number one pick and it just feels like everything’s coming into fruition. They’ve both worked incredibly hard for this, all of the trials and tribulations and injuries and miscommunication – they’re here, together, and Tess couldn’t dream of anything better than that.

Finally, the beginning of the draft rolls around as the WNBA commissioner, Cathy Engelbert, steps up to the podium for opening remarks. Tess motions to wipe her sweaty hands on her dress, but Bree’s gripping her wrists and pushing a small handcloth into her waiting palms. Bree knows her so well and Tess gives her a silent nod of thanks, a small smile. She doesn’t think she’s quite made her peace with the fact she’s leaving her girls behind after today. Training camps and final roster deliberations and the preseason all await, but Bree’s rubbing her shoulder and murmuring, “Soak it in, babe, we’re so proud of you,” and she thinks that maybe she’s on the right track.

Cathy leaves the podium to await the official first pick. Tess glances at Paige again, who is clearly dissociated as she tries to not look at the cameras that are obviously pointing at her. Then, she glances over, her eyes finding Tess’s. Her entire demeanor shifts and a bright smile spreads across her face. It’s scrunchy, somehow both soft and mischievous, but Tess knows her well enough by now to understand that smile is reserved for her only. KK called it her “Tess smile” which was a little ridiculous, but when Tess returns her grin, the love clear as day in her expression, she knows that KK’s observation had a little merit.

Cathy returns with the pick in hand. The entire room falls silent, waiting with a bated breath as the older woman leans into the microphone. “With the first pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft, the Dallas Wings select…Paige Bueckers, University of Connecticut.”

The room breaks into applause immediately as the tears spring to Tess’s eyes, overcome with emotion and appreciation for her girlfriend. Paige stands, embracing her parents, her siblings, and then she’s stepping towards Tess’s table, her expression so grateful and a little awestruck. Tess reminds herself that they’re in front of thousands of people, in front of prominent WNBA players and coaches as she molds herself into Paige’s arms, keeping it classy as Paige squeezes her tightly around her waist. “God, I’m so proud of you,” Tess murmurs, feeling Paige’s shoulders shake a little bit with her emotions. “I love you. Go get your jersey.”

Paige huffs out a laugh, releasing Tess as she wipes at her waterline. “I love you. See you soon,” she says, winking at her, which makes Tess chuckle, taking a seat and watching Paige make her way to the stage. Tess pulls out her phone, taking photo after photo as Paige poses with the commissioner and the Wings jersey.

Holly Rowe talks her through a couple of interview questions, her responses making the crowd aww or applaud, and soon enough, she’s returning to her table, embracing her family once more and smiling gently at Tess. Cathy returns to the podium after allowing the allotted time for the next selection.

“With the second pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft, the Los Angeles Sparks select…Tess Kennedy, University of South Carolina.”

Tess doesn’t register it at first until her family and friends are cheering, their applause loud, and Tess finally snaps back into reality as she stands with an elated, shocked laugh. She pulls Raven and Bree into her arms, her teammates whispering their congratulations before her parents pull her into bone-crushing embraces. And finally, she makes her way to Paige’s table – she was polite for Paige’s pick, but this is different now; it’s hers and after what she’s been through, she can’t find it in herself to care much for what’s proper. She throws herself into Paige’s arms, squeezing tight enough that anyone else would have complained, but Paige holds onto her with the same intensity as she murmurs, “So proud of you, baby. You and me, huh?”

Tess laughs, the sound tearful. “You and me,” she affirms, releasing her girlfriend, and she makes her way up to the podium where Cathy holds out the yellow and purple jersey to her. She takes it, her fingers trembling a little.

When she makes it down, the reporter waiting for her isn’t Holly Rowe. She’s blonde, radiant, and shorter than Tess, but Tess gets the strangest feeling like she knows her. She glances down at the lanyard around her neck, the media pass reading P. LANCASTER. Tess grins. “Tess, you were just selected number two overall for the 2025 WNBA Draft. Can you tell me what was going through your mind leading up to the pick?”

“Um, ‘don’t throw up,’” she answers honestly. Her candor makes the crowd laugh. She chuckles, feeling some of the pressure ease off of her as she gives a proper answer, the usual ‘I’ve been dreaming of this moment since I was a kid,’ and ‘I’m so grateful to be here and this is an honor that I don’t take lightly.’

The reporter talks her through a few more questions, such as how excited she is to be working with the Sparks. Between Cameron and Rickea, Tess feels like she’s in good hands, and knowing that Lynne Roberts, the new head coach, is a huge fan of three-point shooting, she feels like there’s a lot she can bring to the team. The reporter asks a fluff question about getting used to the Los Angeles heat, to which Tess jokingly responds with, “Well, I hear Dallas is hotter.” That makes a small smile appear on the reporter’s face.

“Speaking of Dallas,” she segues, which makes a knowing smile spread across Tess’s face. “Your girlfriend, Paige Bueckers, was just drafted there. The two of you met twice in national championships in college – can we expect some exciting match-ups between the two of you in the W?”

“Of course,” Tess says coyly. “We’re 1-1 on championship wins right now. I’m looking to add a couple more of those to my resume, and if that means beating my girlfriend? Even better.”

Penelope Lancaster thanks her for her time as the crowd applauds once more. Tess makes her way back to her table, smiling smugly at Paige, who rolls her eyes, but the love in her expression is hard to hide. The rest of the draft passes in a blur, as does the afterparty they’re both invited to afterwards. It’s well past midnight when they leave the club, their hair a mess from dancing and Paige’s blazer settled over Tess’s shoulders to stave off the late night chill. Paige already has an Uber called to take them back to Tess’s parents’ house and she pulls Tess into her side as they wait outside.

There’s something so magical about the night, about the energy in the atmosphere. The bass from the music reverberates and Paige sings along to whatever rap song is playing from inside, her body warm against Tess’s, and she finds that she suddenly can’t take it anymore. The overwhelming emotion in her chest, ready to burst at the seams, the sheer happiness and hope and gratitude that seeps from every pore in her body. She wraps both of her arms around Paige’s waist, resting her head over her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. Paige quiets down, a little confused, but she melts into their embrace until there’s no air left between them.

Tess doesn’t know how to put it into words – she doesn’t think she ever will. She’s so in love, even after a year together officially. There was a point in her life where she didn’t think she’d be here. She didn’t think she would be able to heal, that she would be able to play basketball again, that she would be drafted to pursue her dream professionally. She never thought romance was in the cards for her, that she would ever find someone like Paige – that she would find Paige herself; she never thought she would be in love or that someone would be in love with her, too. It’s surreal, encompassing, and call her cheesy or down bad or whatever, but she can’t wait to live life with Paige.

“You okay?” Paige asks softly, her fingers trailing up and down Tess’s back soothingly.

“I’m perfect,” Tess responds, smiling against Paige’s skin. “I just love you.”

Paige’s hand leaves her back, but it’s not long before she’s cupping Tess’s cheek and drawing her closer to her until their lips touch. It’s soft, unhurried, a promise. It’s just as electric as the first time, as warm, as perfect. Paige breaks away long enough to whisper “I love you, too,” and then she’s sweeping back in, kissing Tess with the vow of forever. When she first met Paige, almost two years ago, she’d told her that home was a feeling. Right here, wrapped up in Paige’s arms, kissing her under the streetlight as they get ready to walk into what is the beginning of their life together, Tess knows in her heart that she’s finally made it home.

‘Happily Ever Draft-er’

In April of 2025, the Dallas Wings and the Los Angeles Sparks drafted Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy first and second overall. Every basketball fan knew that Bueckers and Kennedy were sure bets for the top two picks. If there was one thing that the WNBA season could promise us, it was the match-ups between Bueckers and Kennedy – they certainly came around more often than they did when Bueckers and Kennedy were in college. They sold out arenas with many fans vying to see their clash, and they did not disappoint. Each game was intense, hard fought until the very last second.

In their rookie year, Bueckers and Kennedy helped lead their teams to the playoffs, although they both fell short – the Wings lost 2-0 to the Aces, while the Sparks lost 2-1 to the Liberty. In their second year, the Wings forged ahead to the semi-finals where they lost 3-2 to the Fever whereas the Sparks were defeated by the Sun 2-0 in the first round. Their third year was the complete opposite – the Wings lost to the Valkyries 2-1 in the first round, although the Sparks lost 3-1 to the Lynx in the semi-finals.

Their fourth year, the last of their rookie contracts, was long anticipated. In the first round of the playoffs, the Wings defeated the Storm in a clean 2-0 sweep. Similarly, the Sparks sent the Dream packing 2-0. Then, in the semi-finals, the Wings plowed through the Lynx 3-2 while the Sparks dominated the Fever 3-1. The finals match that everyone had been waiting for – the Wings versus the Sparks was underway. This would be the first year that the WNBA implemented a 7 game series.

The WNBA finals were back and forth. The Sparks took home the first win, the Wings took home the second and the third, although the Sparks bounced back with the fourth and the fifth. The Wings beat the Sparks on their sixth game in an overtime thriller, tying the series 3-3 and forcing a game seven. Bueckers and Kennedy were electric on the court, averaging 30 points in the postseason, but ultimately, the Sparks won the WNBA championship.

When approached for a comment, Kennedy stated, “Well, Paige won Rookie of the Year, so I think it’s fitting that I get a ring first.” Bueckers, who was standing next to her, rolled her eyes, but she seemed smug, as though she had another trick up her sleeve. Kennedy continued, “We’re free agents, so who knows who’s winning the chip after this.”

Bueckers did, in fact, have another trick up her sleeve as it was announced early in the offseason that she and Kennedy had gotten engaged in Italy, close to Kennedy’s hometown. Bueckers shared their engagement photos on her Instagram, captioning it, “Her favorite ring of them all 💍”. Shortly after, Bueckers and Kennedy shared their free agency picks – they’d both landed with the Golden State Valkyries alongside 2026 Rookie of the Year Azzi Fudd.

We’re eagerly awaiting the tipoff for the 2029 WNBA season. Bueckers and Kennedy have been rivals for nine years, falling in love despite it all. Finally, for the first time ever, we get to witness the union of the titans rather than their clash. We get to witness a team where Bueckers and Kennedy combine their strengths, and all we have to say is good luck to the rest of the league. The Golden State Valkyries will be a name that we will be hearing for a very long time, especially now that Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy have settled down in the Bay and have made San Francisco their home.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

[thewolvesofthenorth]

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven of Man of Honor

Series Masterlist ❖ Main Masterlist ❖ House Of The Dragon Masterlist

Rating: 18+ Word Count: ~10k+ Summary: Words are misheard, choices are made, and things begin to unravel. Warnings: Angst angst angst, language, fluff, slow burn, pining Author’s Note: Sorry it's such a long chapter.😅 This was just really fun to write, and I’m excited for everyone to read it! Just a few more chapters left! Comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated. 🫶

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The morning sun cast a pale light across the grounds, and Cregan found himself walking alongside Sara, his thoughts heavy with the events of the past few days. His mind lingered on the night of the feast two nights ago—the moments he had spent with you, the words he had finally spoken, words that had taken so much to admit.

He had taken your maidenhood that night and spent the hours after confessing his love for you, promising to make things right, and even vowing to give up the North to be with you. But now, as he walked beside Sara, he could not escape the conflict within him. The weight of his promise and his duty to Arra pressed on him, pulling him in two different directions. His chest tightened just thinking about it.

“I must confess something, Sara,” he started, his voice low, almost reluctant.

“Then confess,” she said, already sensing what it was he was going to say.

“The night of the feast… I… I went to see her.”

Sara’s brow furrowed, and her pace slowed. She glanced at him sharply. “What did you do?” she asked, her voice sharp.

“I… I told her that I loved her. I finally told her, Sara,” Cregan confessed. “And – “

“And? How did she respond?”

“Her heard me. She listened, but… I fear that she may not believe my words.”

“Well, of course not. You and I both know why she would think that.” Cregan sighed, the weight of his choices sitting heavily on his shoulders.

“I know, but I want to make things right. I promised her that I would make things right.”

Sara scoffed. “Your promises mean nothing. You have shown that they mean nothing, Cregan. Do you think she would easily forget everything you have done to her? The heartache you have put her through time and time again?”

“I – “

“We have spoken about this before, brother, yet you still cannot fathom the hurt you have caused. And now, you have tainted her. Do you understand what you have done?” Cregan sucked in a breath and looked down at the ground.

“So, you know.”

“Of course I know. She told me of what had happened the morning after, and I must say, you are an idiot. What were you thinking?!”

“I – I do not know. All I know is that I love her, and it took me seeing her at the feast with all those lords, with Cerwyn, for me to realize it.” Sara rolled her eyes at his stupidity and jealousy.

“So, it took you seeing her with another man to realize that you love her? After everything you have put her through?” Cregan did could not reply, knowing his sister was right. It had taken him seeing you happy with someone else that he finally knew what you had been feeling for so long whenever you saw him with Arra.

“I know it was selfish of me,” he sighed, wringing his hands. “I did not mean for it to happen, it just did. I could not help myself. I needed to have her, if just for that one night.”

“Yes, and now you have dishonored her. Should anyone find out, there would be dire consequences. Not only for you, but her as well.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Yes, it was,” Sara affirmed. “You should not have gone to her. You should not have taken her maidenhood and given her false hope.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Cregan countered.

“Then what? Speak plainly. My patience is wearing thin.”

“The engagement with Arra… It was a mistake.”

Sara’s expression softened. She knew Cregan well—knew the burden of his responsibilities. And although he made mistakes, she understood the quiet torment he carried.

“You have been torn for some time,” she said gently, her voice a quiet comfort. “Especially after that night.”

“I have tried,” Cregan admitted, his voice strained. “I have tried to convince myself that I could make it work. That I could marry her and be the man I am supposed to be. But deep down, I know… it is not her. It has never been her. And it will never be her. It was all a mistake, and I could never love her the way she would want me to.”

Sara studied him for a long moment, her eyes filled with both understanding and frustration. “Then why have not you ended it?”

Cregan let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Do you think I have not thought about it? Do you think I have not woken up and wondered how I let it get this far? It is not that simple, Sara. This marriage is not just about me or her—it is about the North. It is about strengthening alliances, securing the future. If I end it, what happens then? Weakness? Division? I cannot risk that.”

“You mean you will not risk it,” Sara corrected sharply. “Because you are afraid. Afraid of what people will think, afraid of what it will mean for your position as Warden of the North. You are using duty as an excuse to avoid making a choice. You continue to use it as an excuse.”

He glared at her, his jaw tightening. “You think it would be so easy? That I could simply cast aside everything I have been taught, everything I have been raised to believe in? Duty is everything, Sara. Without it, who am I? What am I?”

Sara’s eyes narrowed, her voice laced with quiet indignation. “Is that not what you told her? That you would throw everything away for her? That you would forsake it all—the North, your duty, everything—to be with her?” She shook her head. “You said those words, Cregan. But did you mean them? Or were they just more empty promises made in the heat of the moment?”

He flinched at her accusation, guilt slicing through him. “I meant them,” he said quietly.

“Then why are you still here?” Sara countered. “Why are you still clinging to this engagement, to this sense of duty, if you truly believe she is worth it? You cannot have it both ways, Cregan. Either you meant what you said, or you did not. And if you did not, then you owe her the truth, because she deserves better than your half-measures.”

Cregan’s jaw tightened, the truth of her words settling uncomfortably in his chest.

“I want you to be honest, Cregan” Sara said firmly. “With yourself, with Arra, with her. Stop hiding behind your duty and figure out what you truly want. Because right now, all you are doing is making things worse for everyone involved. Do you not see the pattern here? You are so caught up in trying to do what is right that you are doing everything wrong.””

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words would not come. Deep down, he knew she was right. He had been running from the truth for too long, and now it was catching up to him, threatening to swallow him whole.

“Arra also deserves more than this,” Sara continued, her voice gentler now. “She deserves a husband who loves her, who sees her as more than a means to an end. And you? You deserve to be happy, Cregan. But you must make the choice. No one else can do it for you.”

Cregan nodded slowly, the weight of her words settling over him. “I just… I do not know if I am strong enough,” he admitted quietly.

“You are,” Sara said with quiet conviction. “You have to stop running from it. Stop running from yourself. And you had better figure it out soon. Because you will lose her. And this time, you will not get her back, brother.”

The words echoed in his mind, the same words Cerwyn had spoken to him. He had not wanted to admit it, but the truth was undeniable. Now, more than ever, he realized that he could not keep making excuses. Cerwyn had been right. And Sara, despite her harsh words, was right as well.

It was time to stop running.

“I know what I must do.”

The morning air was frigid, biting against your skin as you balanced the bundle of firewood in your arms. The stables were quiet, but your thoughts were anything but. You had spent the past two days trying to make sense of everything—of Cregan’s promises, his confessions, and the turmoil he had left in his wake.

Your ears caught the sound of voices drifting across the yard. You had not intended to listen, but the tone of Sara’s voice—sharp and cutting—drew your attention. You turned your head slightly, heart sinking as you recognized the low timbre of Cregan’s voice.

“It is not her. It has never been her. And it will never be her. It was all a mistake, and I could never love her the way she would want me to.”

For a moment, a sliver of doubt crept into your mind. Was there a chance that you had misheard him? Perhaps it was not as it seemed—maybe he had meant something else, maybe there had been some misunderstanding. The hope flared for the briefest of moments, like a flicker of warmth in the cold. But then it crushed you as reality set in, and all the doubts vanished. It was no misunderstanding. You had heard his words correctly.

Your stomach churned, bile rising in your throat. Your hands suddenly grew cold, the firewood slipping from your arms and clattering to the ground.

Cregan had never truly loved you.

It was all a mistake.

The weight of those words crushed your chest as you stood frozen, stomach tightening with a surge of anguish. You thought of his promise that he would choose you, that he would make things right between you. You had believed him, trusted him. But now it seemed that all of it had been nothing but a lie. Just like before. And you had been a fool to hope differently.

Tears burned behind your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. No. You could not allow yourself to be vulnerable again, not after everything you had already been through. Cregan had made his decision, and now you had to make yours.

You forced yourself to move, to gather the fallen firewood despite the shaking in your hands. Each piece you picked up felt heavier than the last, your heart pounding as though trying to escape your chest. The cold air stung your cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the ache inside you.

You could not stay here. Not now. Not after hearing those words. Without thinking, your feet carried you away from the stables, away from the sound of Cregan and Sara’s voices. You did not know where you were going—only that you needed space, air, something to dull the storm raging within you.

The godswood.

The ancient trees loomed ahead, their branches bare against the winter sky. You stepped into the quiet sanctuary, the crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound. It was a place you had often come to when the weight of your thoughts grew too heavy, and now, it seemed the only refuge from the chaos in your heart.

You sank to your knees beneath the heart tree, the red leaves stark against the white of the snow. Closing your eyes, you pressed your forehead against the rough bark and let out a trembling breath.

What a fool I have been.

I should have known it meant nothing to him.

That I meant nothing to him.

The memory of Cregan’s touch, his words, his promises—they all burned through you, leaving behind a raw, open wound.

You had wanted to believe him.

Needed to believe him.

But it was clear now that his love—if it could even be called that—was as fleeting as the warmth of the sun in the land of the North.

The sound of approaching footsteps pulled you from your thoughts. Your first instinct was to leave, to avoid whoever it was, but before you could rise, the figure stepped into view.

“Cerwyn.”

The name escaped your lips before you could stop it. He stood there, his expression soft but filled with concern, as though he had been searching for you.

“I thought I might find you here,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “Sara told me you were not at the stables. Are you unwell?”

You looked away, wiping at your face even though no tears had fallen. “I just needed some space to think.”

Cerwyn crouched beside you, his presence steady and grounding. He did not press you to speak, did not ask the questions that you were not ready to answer. Instead, he simply sat there, waiting, offering his quiet support.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Have-have you ever believed in something so much… only to realize that it was never real?”

Cerwyn’s brow furrowed, his eyes searching your face. “I have,” he said after a moment. “And it is a pain I would not wish upon anyone.”

You nodded, the lump in your throat growing tighter. “I thought I knew him,” you whispered. “I thought… I thought what we had meant something. That I meant something.”

“It does mean something,” Cerwyn said, his voice firm but gentle. “Do not let his mistakes take that away from you. Whatever he said, whatever he did—it does not erase what you feel. That was real, even if he did not deserve it.”

His words settled over you like a blanket, warming the parts of you that had felt frozen since this morning. You turned to him, meeting his gaze. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Stay so kind, even when everything around you seems so… cruel?”

Cerwyn gave a small, sad smile. “Because the world is cruel enough without me adding to it. And because you deserve kindness, even if you do not see it right now.”

You let out a shaky breath, lowering your gaze to the snow at your feet. “I do not know what to do anymore,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I could move on. I thought I could be strong enough, but… everything feels so broken. I feel so broken.”

Cerwyn leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he considered your words. “Sometimes, things do break,” he said softly. “And sometimes, no matter how hard you try, they cannot be put back the way they were. But that does not mean they are beyond repair.”

You frowned, your brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

He gestured to the heart tree behind you, its ancient bark scarred and weathered by time. “Look at this tree,” he said. “It has stood here for generations, living through storms, snow, and fire. It has been marked and scarred, but it still stands. Stronger, even, because it has endured.”

You followed his gaze to the tree, its gnarled roots and branches reaching out in quiet defiance of the elements. For a moment, you let yourself imagine being like that tree—steady, resilient, untouched by the pain of betrayal and heartbreak.

“But what if I am not strong enough?” you asked, your voice trembling. “What if I cannot endure this?”

Cerwyn turned to you, his expression earnest. “You are strong enough. You have already survived more than most people could bear. You have stood with your head held high countless times. You will get through this. I know you will.”

His words stirred something in you, a warmth that pushed back against the cold that had settled in your chest. You looked at him, really looked at him, and saw not just a friend who had always been kind to you, but someone who had never given up. Someone who saw your pain and did not turn away. Someone who, despite being best friends with the one who broke your heart, in some way had always looked out for you.

“I do not know if I’ll ever be whole again,” you said quietly.

“You do not have to be whole right now,” Cerwyn replied. “You just have to take it one day at a time.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything you had carried lightened just enough to let you breathe. Finally, you turned to him, gathering the courage to voice the thoughts that had plagued you. “Then I must marry,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

Cerwyn’s brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“I have suitors,” you went on. “Lords who have made their interests known. Of course, I have much to consider before making a choice, but… I cannot linger in this place of uncertainty any longer. I must move forward, even if it feels impossible. Cregan has made his choice, and so must I.”

Cerwyn studied you for a long moment, his dark eyes filled with something you could not quite name. “And do you believe that marriage will help you move on?” he asked gently, his voice free of judgment.

“I do not know,” you admitted, your hands twisting nervously in your lap. “But I know that staying here, waiting for a future that will never come, waiting for a man that will never love me the way I love him, will destroy me. I cannot keep holding on to something that was never mine to begin with.”

Cerwyn nodded, his expression thoughtful. “You are wise to think of your future,” he said. “But do not rush into something simply to escape the pain, it will only delay it for a while. Whoever you choose, make sure they are someone who will cherish you. Someone who will fight for you. Someone who will make you happy.”

You felt your throat tighten at his words. “And what if I do not know who that is yet? What if they cannot make me happy no matter how hard they try? No matter how hard I try to be happy?”

Cerwyn’s lips curved into a small, sad smile. “Then take your time. Your heart has been through so much, for so long, but with time, it will heal in its own way. And when it does, you will know what you want—and what you deserve.”

You met his gaze, and for a moment, the load of your burdens seemed just a little lighter. Cerwyn had always been a steady presence in your life, and now, as you sat beside him beneath the heart tree, you realized how much his support truly meant to you.

“I will try,” you said quietly. “I will try to move on.”

“And you will succeed,” Cerwyn replied, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

You sat in silence for a moment longer, watching as a gentle breeze stirred the branches of the heart tree above. The crimson leaves fluttered like quiet whispers against the pale gray sky, their movement calming in its constancy. For the first time in days, the ache in your chest eased, just a little.

“Cerwyn,” you began, breaking the quiet. “You have always been kind to me. You have stood by me even when… even when I did not deserve it.”

He turned his head to look at you, his expression softening. “You have always deserved kindness. Even on your darkest days.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you had to swallow hard to keep your voice steady. “I just wanted to say… thank you. For everything. For being here when I did not even know I needed someone. For reminding me that I am stronger than I feel. For not judging me for my mistakes.”

Cerwyn’s smile was warm but tinged with a sadness that you could not quite place. “No thanks are needed” he said softly. “I only did what any friend would do.”

Friend.

The word settled in your chest, both comforting and bittersweet. There was a part of you that wanted to reach for him, to let his unwavering presence steady you through the storm of your emotions. But another part of you hesitated, unsure if you were ready to open your heart again—to anyone.

“I do not know what the future holds,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “But I want to believe that it will get better. That I can… rebuild. That I can one day heal.”

“It will get better,” Cerwyn said firmly. “And when it does, I am certain you will find the happiness you deserve.”

You nodded, letting his words settle over you like a protective cloak. “I hope so too.”

Cerwyn’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say something more. But whatever it was, he kept it to himself, rising to his feet and brushing the snow from his cloak.

“Shall I walk you back to the keep?” he asked, offering you his hand.

You hesitated for a moment, then reached up to take it. His hand was warm and steady, grounding you in a way that surprised you. “Thank you,” you said softly, allowing him to help you to your feet.

The two of you walked in companionable silence, the crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound between you. As you approached the keep, you could not help but glance back over your shoulder at the heart tree, its ancient branches standing resolute against the cold winter sky.

Cerwyn caught your movement and followed your gaze. “It is a good tree,” he said, his tone light but thoughtful. “A reminder that even in the harshest of winters, life finds a way to endure.”

You smiled faintly, the corners of your mouth lifting despite the heaviness still lingering in your chest. “I think I will come back here,” you said quietly. “When I need to think.”

“It will be here,” Cerwyn replied, his voice steady. “As will I.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet conviction in his words. There was no expectation in his tone, no pressure—just an unspoken promise that you were not alone. And for the first time in a long while, that thought brought you a measure of comfort.

As you stepped inside the warmth of the keep, the heavy wooden doors closing behind you, you realized that while the path ahead was still uncertain, you were not walking it alone. And perhaps, for now, that was enough.

The low hum of activity in the kitchens greeted you as you stepped inside, your stomach growling softly. The warmth of the hearth and the scent of fresh bread were a welcome reprieve from the cold, and for a moment, you let yourself savor the simplicity of it. You had spent so much time dwelling on heavy thoughts that you had barely noticed your own hunger.

Reaching for a warm roll from the counter, you heard the distant sound of horses outside. Curious, you moved to the small window above the worktable, brushing aside the frost on the glass to peer outside. In the courtyard below, a group of riders was preparing to leave.

Your breath caught when you spotted Cregan among them, his familiar form unmistakable even in the muted light of the overcast morning. He was already mounted, his posture straight and proud despite the evident tension in his shoulders. Cerwyn was there too, speaking to one of the other hunters, but your eyes lingered on Cregan.

For all the turmoil he had caused you, for all the pain he had left in his wake, you could not stop yourself from looking. Watching him felt like pressing a hand to an old wound, testing the ache to see if it still hurt. It did. More than you wanted to admit. But a piece of you still felt the undeniable heat of love for him. Regardless of what he had said to Sara. Your heart wanted him, but you knew you could never have him. Not anymore.

He shifted in the saddle, his hand adjusting the reins as if preparing to ride out. You told yourself to look away, to turn your attention back to the kitchen and the simple act of eating your roll. But your feet were rooted to the floor, your gaze refusing to leave him.

As if sensing you watching him, Cregan suddenly turned. His head tilted slightly, his eyes sweeping the courtyard before locking onto yours. For the briefest of moments, the two of you were frozen, caught in the silent tension that had been building for so long. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes… his eyes held something raw, something that made your chest tighten.

What could he possibly be thinking?

Panic set in, and you quickly ducked below the window, your heart hammering in your chest. You pressed your back against the stone wall, clutching the roll in your hands as if it could ground you. The warmth of the kitchen felt stifling now, your thoughts a tangled mess.

Why had he looked back?

Had he known you were watching?

And worse, had he seen the sadness in your face, the longing you had tried so hard to bury?

Out in the courtyard, Cregan lingered for a moment longer, his stare fixed on the window where you had just been. He felt a pang of something he could not quite name—regret, guilt, loss? Maybe all of it. The heaviness of the past few days bore down on him, and though he knew he should focus on the hunt, he could not shake the image of you from his mind. He needed to speak with you, and soon.

Finally, with a sharp tug on the reins, he turned his horse and rode out with the others, the sound of hooves fading into the distance.

You remained in the kitchen, looking down at the roll in your hands as if it held the answers to the questions swirling in your head. The warmth of the bread had gone cold, much like the fragile hope you had once carried.

Somehow, seeing him look back had made it worse. It was not just the pain of knowing he was engaged to another; it was the lingering thread of connection between you, frayed but unbroken, that refused to let go.

And for the first time in days, you wondered if it ever truly would.

- THE FIRST DAY -

The next day dawned cold and quiet, the absence of Cregan and Cerwyn noticeable in the stillness of the keep. Though the halls bustled with the usual morning activity, there was a strange void, as if their presence had been a thread woven into the daily fabric of life that had suddenly been pulled loose.

You spent most of the morning trying to keep yourself busy, yet no matter what task you turned to, your thoughts were tethered to the sight of Cregan riding away. The way his broad shoulders had squared against the chill, the faint plume of his breath in the frigid air, and, most of all, the look he had given you when your eyes had met lingered in your mind. That fleeting, unreadable glance had stirred something raw and painful within you, a fresh wound atop the scars you thought had begun to heal.

By midday, the air within the keep felt suffocating. You wrapped your cloak tightly around yourself and wandered outside, drawn by the faint light of the winter sun. Snow crunched softly beneath your boots as you made your way to the godswood, the air sharp and crisp against your skin. The heart tree stood as it always did, ancient and steadfast, its red leaves a stark contrast against the white of the snow.

You sat beneath its sprawling branches, leaning back against the gnarled trunk as you stared out at the snow-covered ground. The quiet of the godswood felt like a balm, though it could not fully soothe the turmoil within you. Your breath came in soft puffs, mingling with the stillness around you, as your thoughts turned inward once more.

Cregan’s words to Sara echoed in your mind, sharp and unrelenting.

“It was all a mistake, and I could never love her the way she would want me to.”

You had replayed them a hundred times, each repetition dragging you deeper into doubt. When you had first overheard them, a part of you clung to the hope that he had been speaking of Arra, lamenting the arrangement of marriage to her. But as the hours passed, that hope wavered, replaced by a suffocating fear. What if he had been speaking about you? What if all his promises, all his confessions, had been nothing more than fleeting moments of weakness?

You pulled your cloak tighter around yourself, the cold seeping into your bones. Cregan had once told you he would give up everything for you—the North, his duty, his pride. You had believed him then, believed in the fire in his eyes and the conviction in his voice. But that fire seemed so distant now, snuffed out by the gravity of his decisions.

And yet… that glance. The way he had looked back at you as he rode off. You had felt it, as if his eyes carried all the things he could not say aloud. It was the same look that had once drawn you in, the look that made you feel as though you were the only person who mattered to him. But now, it only confused you. Did it mean he still cared? Or was it simply a reflection of his own guilt, his own regret for what could never be?

Your fingers curled into fists in your lap as you fought against the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. You wanted to hate him, to turn your back on him as he had seemingly done to you. But you could not. Despite everything, your heart still ached for him, still held on to the memory of the man who had once been your world. Who was still your world. But could not be.

You looked up at the heart tree, its scarred bark and weathered branches a testament to its endurance. It had stood here for generations, battered by storms and blanketed in snow, yet still, it stood. Strong, unyielding. You wanted to be like that tree, to find strength in your scars and endure the storms of your own life. But right now, you felt anything but strong. You felt fragile, as though one more blow might shatter you completely.

Snow began to fall lightly, delicate flakes settling on your hair and cloak. Somewhere out there, Cregan was riding through the woods, his focus likely on the hunt and not on the storm of emotions raging within you. Did he think of you, even for a moment? Or had he truly moved on, as his engagement to Arra seemed to suggest?

Your chest tightened at the thought. You wanted to believe that there was still a part of him that loved you, that regretted the choices that had pulled you apart. But his actions told a different story. And yet… you could not stop hoping, could not stop clinging to the fragile thread that connected you.

“Why could not you have chosen me?” you whispered into the stillness, your voice barely audible over the rustling branches. The words hung in the air, unanswered, fading into the cold.

You tilted your head back against the trunk of the heart tree, staring up at the canopy of red leaves. Part of you wanted to hate him, to let the anger consume the love you still felt. But you could not. You loved him too much, even now, even after everything. And maybe that was the worst part of all—that no matter how much he hurt you, your heart still beat for him, still yearned for him.

You let out a shaky breath, snow falling steadily now, and closed your eyes. For a moment, you let yourself imagine a world where things had been different—where Cregan had chosen you, and you had not been left standing in the cold, discarded and forgotten. But the fantasy slipped away as quickly as it had come, replaced by the stark reality of your situation.

As you opened your eyes, you looked out at the snowy expanse of the godswood, the silence pressing in around you. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cawed, its cry breaking through the stillness like a reminder that the world moved on, whether you were ready or not.

For now, all you could do was wait. And hope that when the time came, you would find the strength to choose a path forward.

- THE SECOND DAY -

The following morning arrived with pale, wintry light filtering through the frost-covered panes of your chamber window. You lay in bed for a long while, staring at the faint patterns etched by the cold, your thoughts as tangled as the blankets wrapped around you.

You had dreamed of Cregan that night. In the dream, he had kept his promise—he had given up everything to be with you. You remembered the way his arms had felt around you, the warmth of his breath as he whispered that nothing else mattered but you. It had felt so real, so achingly perfect, that waking up had been like falling from a great height.

Yet the dream had shifted, as dreams often do, and suddenly, he was not there anymore. You were alone in a vast, empty hall, the sound of your footsteps echoing as you searched for him. No matter how far you ran or how loudly you called his name, he never appeared. The warmth had turned to cold, the promise to ash. You had woken with tears on your cheeks and the bitter taste of longing on your tongue.

Now, as the sunlight crept into the room, you pulled yourself from bed, the remnants of the dream still clinging to you like cobwebs. You dressed slowly, wrapping your cloak tightly around you before crossing to the window. Your breath misted the glass as you looked out at the snow-covered grounds, the quiet of the morning only amplifying the turmoil in your heart.

Marriage.

The word weighed heavily in your mind, as it had so often these past few weeks. The prospect loomed closer with every passing day, and though you had once dreamed of a life with Cregan, that future was gone, shattered by duty and circumstance. And yet, you knew that a choice would have to be made. The thought filled you with unease—not because you were afraid to marry, but because you did not know who to choose.

The thought of Cregan lingered like a wound that refused to heal. Could you ever love anyone else as deeply as you had loved him? The very idea felt impossible, as though your heart could never truly belong to another. But you also knew that love, as rare and precious as it was, was not the only foundation for a good marriage. There were other things to consider��trust, respect, companionship. Those things mattered too, perhaps even more than love.

Your thoughts turned, inevitably, to Cerwyn. His name had been whispered in the quiet corners of your mind ever since the feast, and now, it came to the forefront.

Could you marry him?

Could you try to build something with him, even if it was not the love story you had once imagined for yourself?

Cerwyn had always been understanding, always patient. He had never asked for more than you could give, and though he knew the full extent of your history with Cregan, he had never turned away. That kind of steadiness, that kind of loyalty, was rare.

Could you trust him to help you heal?

Could you trust yourself to let him in?

You moved to the small table by the window, tracing the grain of the wood with your fingertips. The dream lingered in your mind, a cruel reminder of how deeply Cregan had burrowed into your soul. But it also reminded you of something else—the emptiness, the loneliness that had followed. You did not want to feel like that anymore. You could not.

“Perhaps I could try,” you murmured aloud, the words soft but steady. They did not feel like a decision, not yet. But they felt like a start.

The keep was still and quiet, but outside, life moved on. The snow continued to fall, blanketing the world in white. Somewhere out there, Cregan was riding through the woods, his thoughts likely far from you. Perhaps he had already made his peace with what was expected of him. Maybe he had already let go.

The thought sent a pang through your chest, sharp and cold, but you forced yourself to breathe through it. Letting go was not something that happened all at once—it was a process, a series of small, painful steps. You did not know if you could ever truly stop loving him, but you knew you could not wait for him forever. Life would not wait for you to make peace with your heart.

And maybe, just maybe, Cerwyn could help you take those steps. He had always been there, steady as the seasons, willing to shoulder your burdens when they grew too heavy. Could you take that chance? Could you trust him enough to try?

As you sat by the window, the frost slowly melting away under the pale light of the sun, you allowed yourself to wonder—not hope, not yet, but wonder.

- THE THIRD DAY -

The morning air was crisp and unyielding, the faint scent of pine carried on the breeze as the hunting party broke down camp. Cerwyn was tying up his saddlebag when Cregan approached him, his expression set with a determination that had been absent the past few days.

“Cerwyn,” Cregan began, his voice steady but laced with urgency. “I have made my decision.”

Cerwyn paused, turning to face him. “What decision?”

“I am going to tell her,” Cregan said, his dark eyes unwavering. “I am going to tell her that I choose her—that I love her, and that I will fight for her. I am going to break off the betrothal to Arra.”

He paused, his jaw tightening as he thought of the consequences that awaited him. “I know there will be repercussions. There will be anger, disappointment, and many people will not be happy, but I cannot keep hiding behind duty and obligation. I cannot keep letting her believe that I do not care about her. That I do not, and have not, loved her. I am willing to face whatever comes if it means I can be with her.”

Cerwyn’s brows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it softened into something more thoughtful. “Are you certain?” he asked, his tone measured. “This is not a decision to make lightly. You know your honor will be questioned. Ending an engagement like this—it will not just be a personal matter. It will cast a shadow over your house, your alliances, your name, Cregan.”

Cregan’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he met Cerwyn’s gaze. “Do you think I do not know that?” he said, his voice low but firm. “But my honor? I forgot that long before any of this. I unknowingly broke my oath to her when I pledged myself to Arra. I did not realize it at the time, but by choosing duty over her, I betrayed the promises I made to her—even if they were spoken as children.” His voice softened, though the steel in his resolve remained. “If I must bear the shame of setting things right, so be it. I would rather face the consequences of my truth than live a lie for the rest of my life.”

Cerwyn studied him for a moment, his sharp gaze assessing before he gave a small nod. “If that is truly what you want, then I support you,” he said quietly. “But…” He hesitated, as if weighing his next words.

“But what?” Cregan pressed, frowning.

“There is something you should know” Cerwyn said carefully, his voice gentler now. “She does not think you love her. She believes everything has been a lie—that you have made another promise you do not intend to keep. And because of that, she has begun considering a different path.”

Cregan stiffened, his heart sinking. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying she is entertaining the idea of marrying someone else,” Cerwyn said plainly, though his tone was laced with empathy. “She is trying to move on, to find the peace and stability she does not believe you can offer her anymore.”

The words hit Cregan like a punch to the gut, his breath catching in his chest. “Who?” he demanded, his voice taut with a mix of anger and desperation.

“I do not know, and it matters not.” Cerwyn answered quietly. “What is important is that she thinks you have made your choice, and she is doing what she feels she has to in order to protect herself.”

Cregan’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. “I never wanted her to think that,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I never wanted her to feel like she was not the most important thing to me.”

“Then tell her that,” Cerwyn said firmly, stepping closer. “Do not let her continue to question you and what you feel for her.”

Cregan nodded, his resolve hardening. “I will,” he said. “I will fix this. I will make her see that I have chosen her, that I will always choose her. The gods can punish me as they see fit, but I will not abandon my love for her.”

Cerwyn’s gaze softened, though there was still a hint of disappointment lingering in his eyes. “Good,” he said quietly. “But do not wait too long, my friend. Just as I told you the morning after the feast—action must be taken before it is too late. If you do not, she will believe she was right to doubt you. And once she truly lets go, there will not be anything left to fix.”

Cregan swallowed hard, the harsh truth of Cerwyn’s words settling heavily on him. “I will not let that happen,” he said, his voice steady with determination.

Cerwyn gave him a faint smile, his hand resting briefly on Cregan’s shoulder. “I hope so,” he said simply. “For both your sakes.”

As the camp stirred to life and the hunting party prepared to ride back to the keep, Cregan’s thoughts were consumed by the task ahead. He could not lose you—not now, not ever. And this time, he was determined to make things right. He had to make things right.

- THE HUNTING PARTY RETURNS -

The stillness of the morning shattered as the distant thundering of hooves echoed through the keep. You were elbow-deep in a mound of potatoes in the kitchens, the rhythmic scrape of the knife against their skins a poor distraction from the turmoil within you. The sound of riders approaching pulled you from your thoughts, the heavy cadence stirring something in your chest.

The hunting party had returned. And with it, Cregan.

Your heart quickened as you set down the knife, wiping your hands on your apron before slipping out the back door. The icy air bit at your cheeks as you stepped into the courtyard, drawn by the sound of voices and the sight of riders cutting through the snow. The hunting party moved in steady formation, their horses’ breath visible in the crisp winter air.

At the front of the group rode Cregan, his broad shoulders straight and his jaw set. Even from a distance, he carried an air of quiet authority, a natural ease that drew your eyes to him. His dark cloak billowed slightly with the motion of his horse, the edges dusted with snow. You told yourself not to look, but it was impossible to resist.

As if sensing you, he turned his head toward you, his sharp eyes locking onto yours with startling intensity. The moment stretched, the world narrowing until it was just the two of you, suspended in that searing glance. You could not read his expression—was it regret? Determination? Something else entirely?

Your breath hitched, your pulse racing as panic began to well up as he dismounted his horse and began to walk towards you.

Shit.

Without giving him the chance to catch you, you abruptly turned, slipping back through the kitchen door and into the safety of the bustling warmth inside. But even as you busied yourself with mundane tasks, the weight of his stare lingered, like the press of a hand against your back.

For the rest of the morning, you kept your distance, not giving him the opportunity to speak to you. You stayed to the corners of the keep, always moving, always finding some excuse to keep you as far away from his as you could. But it was impossible to ignore the quiet pull of his presence. He was there, in the great hall as you passed through with a tray of food. In the courtyard, speaking to one of the stable hands. He seemed to be everywhere, and it was getting harder and harder to avoid him, but you managed to slip away every time.

Each time you found yourself in the same vicinity as him, you would swiftly leave before he could catch your eye, unwilling to face him. Unwilling to confront what his return might mean.

And yet, the ache in your chest grew with every fleeting glimpse.

Your heart longed for him.

By the time midday approached, you felt like a shadow of yourself, worn thin by the effort of avoidance.

How much longer could you keep running?

And would he let you?

The restlessness of the morning had followed you into the early afternoon, each passing moment stretching longer than the last. Seeking some semblance of peace, you found yourself wandering toward the library—a quiet refuge from your tormenting thoughts. The room welcomed you with the soft glow of the hearth, the scent of aged parchment, and the gentle stillness that always seemed to linger there.

You spotted Cerwyn seated at one of the long tables bent over a book. His finger traced the lines of text, his expression one of quiet focus. He looked up as you approached, his expression softening. “You have been hard to find today,” he said lightly, though there was a note of concern in his voice.

You offered a faint smile as you moved closer, sinking into the chair across from him. “I have been trying to clear my head,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, closing the book but keeping his hand resting on its cover. “And have you found any clarity?”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the grain of the wooden table. “Some,” you said at last. “Enough to make a decision.”

Cerwyn’s brows lifted slightly, but he said nothing, giving you the space to continue. His silence was a quiet reassurance, a steadying presence that you had not realized you needed until now.

“I cannot keep living like this,” you said, the words spilling out in a rush. “Holding onto something that is… slipping away. I have been clinging to the past, to memories of what could have been, but it is not fair. Not to him, not to anyone. And not to me.”

His expression did not change, though you noticed the subtle tightening of his jaw. “What are you saying?” he asked softly.

You drew in a slow breath, your hands fidgeting in your lap. “I want to move forward. To heal. To find happiness. And I believe… I believe you may be best suited to provide that, Cerwyn.”

Cerwyn blinked, his sharp features softening as your words sank in. For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze searching yours as if to confirm what he had just heard. When he finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Are you sure? This is not something to decide so quickly. It may not be wise to make such a choice without fully understanding all that is at stake.” He paused, his expression softening. “That said, I am honored that you would choose me. But I think it would be best to speak to Cregan first.

“I have thought about it,” you said, your hands twisting in your lap. “You have always been there for me, Cerwyn. You have seen the worst of me, and you have never turned away. Even when I did not deserve your kindness, you were there.” You hesitated, your voice softening. “You know the truth about me, about my past. You know that I am not… a maiden. And yet, you have never judged me for it. You have never made me feel less because of it.”

Cerwyn’s gaze held steady, unwavering in its warmth. “Why would I?” he said quietly, his voice gentle yet firm. “You are more than the mistakes you have made, or the choices forced upon you. You are strong, resilient, and deserving of love—not in spite of those things, but because of who they have shaped you to be.”

Your breath caught, his words reaching a part of you that had long been buried beneath layers of guilt and self-doubt. For so long, you had carried the weight of your choices and the consequences that followed, believing that they defined you. Yet, here was Cerwyn, seeing you not as broken but as whole, not as damaged but as someone worthy of love and respect.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, unwilling to let yourself break under the tenderness of his gaze.

Cerwyn leaned forward slightly, his hand resting on the edge of the table as though he wanted to reach for you but held himself back. “However, before you make any decision, it would be prudent to speak to Cregan. I know that this is not easy, and I understand why you feel the way you do, but you should listen to what he has to say. There is something he needs to say, something important. It is not my place to tell you what it is, but you must talk to him before you choose to marry anyone else.”

You shook your head slowly, the words you had been holding back coming out in a rush. “I do not wish to talk to him. I do not want to hear any more empty words. I have made my decision, Cerwyn. I have waited long enough, and I cannot keep waiting for something that will never happen.”

Cerwyn’s expression softened, but you saw a flicker of something more in his eyes—something like disappointment. “I understand. But I will not pretend that this is not difficult for me. You deserve to know the truth, to hear it from him directly, even if it changes things between you. It could be the key to finding peace in your heart, no matter what you choose afterward.”

His voice remained calm, but you could sense the heaviness of his words taking root. Still, you stood firm. “I have made up my mind. I want to move forward. No, I need to move forward, and I believe that you can help me with that.”

Cerwyn exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping for a moment as though he were weighing the consequences. Then he met your eyes again, his expression both resolute and gentle. “If this is truly what you want, then I will support you, and I will do everything in my power to give you the life you deserve.”

You gave him a small, bittersweet smile, grateful for his understanding, even as you felt the tug of something unresolved in the back of your mind. He reached across the table, his hand brushing yours, and although it was a simple gesture, it held the weight of everything you both stood to gain—or lose—in the days to come.

The dim glow of lantern light flickered off the rough-hewn stone walls of the cellar, casting long shadows across the rows of barrels and crates stacked neatly along the walls. The air was cool and damp, carrying the faint scent of earth and aged wood. You ran your fingers along the edge of a barrel as you walked, letting the texture ground you as your thoughts swirled. Sara’s footsteps echoed softly behind you, her arms crossed as she watched you with quiet concern.

“You have been hard to find these past few days,” she said lightly, breaking the silence. Her tone was casual, but there was an edge of worry beneath it. “It is like you have been avoiding everyone.”

You stopped near a row of wine barrels, glancing over your shoulder at her. “I have not been avoiding anyone,” you said, though even as the words left your mouth, they felt unconvincing. “I have just needed some time to think.”

“Most people come to the cellars to escape, not to think.”

You managed a faint smile as you turned to face her. “Maybe I needed both.”

Sara raised a brow, stepping closer. “What has been on your mind?”

You hesitated, tracing the grain of the wood beneath your fingers. “A lot of things,” you admitted. “But I think I have made up my mind about one of them.”

Sara’s expression softened, her sharp eyes searching yours. “And what is it that you have decided?”

You nodded, leaning against one of the support beams. “I will marry, and I think Cerwyn is the best choice. Cerwyn is… what I need. He is steady, kind, and patient. He has always been there for me. Through everything.” Your voice faltered, but you pushed forward. “I feel like I could find happiness with him, perhaps even build something real.”

Sara tilted her head, studying you. “And yet, something tells me that there is more.”

A sharp pang tightened in your chest, and you looked away, your gaze dropping to the cool stone floor. “It is not about what I want, Sara. It is about what is best for me. I cannot keep waiting for something that will never happen.”

Sara’s expression grew more serious, and she stepped closer, placing a hand gently on your arm. “You deserve to be happy. But are you sure this is the right decision? It sounds like you are trying to convince yourself.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “I do not have the luxury of waiting for someone who chose something else. Cregan made his choice when he pledged himself to Arra, and I am making mine now.”

Sara did not reply immediately, her lips pressing into a thin line. The faint flicker of the lantern light reflected in her eyes as she considered her next words. “Cerwyn is a good man,” she said carefully. “He has always been there for you, and he has never judged you. I will not argue with you on that. But…” She hesitated, glancing down before meeting your gaze again. “I think you and Cregan should speak before making any final decisions.”

Your jaw tightened, and you looked away. “What good would that do? Give him more opportunities to lie and deceive me? To give me false hope? To whisper words of love and loyalty only to take it all away again? Cregan has already chosen. I am simply trying to move forward. To heal what he has broken. What I have allowed him to break.”

“It is not that simple,” Sara said quietly. “There are things you do not know—things he may need to tell you. And while it is not my place to say what, I think you owe it to yourself to hear him out. If only so you can move forward without any regrets.”

You hesitated, her words echoing Cerwyn’s from earlier. “You sound like Cerwyn,��� you muttered, glancing at her from the corner of your eye. “He said the same thing when I told him I had chosen to marry him. To speak with Cregan before making my choice.”

Sara tilted her head, a faint, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Then perhaps you should listen to Cerwyn. It sounds like he has more wisdom than you give him credit for.”

Your stomach churned, and you hugged your arms around yourself. “The two of you advise me to seek Cregan out yet tell me nothing of what he has to say. But it matters not.  I do not wish to speak with him,” you said, your voice quieter now. “It is too late. I have already decided. Nothing he says will change my mind. Cerwyn may not be who I want, but he is… he is what I need.”

Sara’s hand fell away, and she sighed softly, her expression a mix of understanding and frustration. “If that is how you feel. But you know as well as I that some things have a way of coming back around, whether we want them to or not.”

You did not respond, your thoughts too tangled to form a coherent reply. The silence between you stretched, the dim light flickering over the barrels and stone.

Unbeknownst to you, a shadow lingered in the farthest corner of the cellar, hidden just beyond the reach of the lantern’s flickering light. Cregan stood motionless, his back pressed against the cool stone wall, his breath shallow as he strained to catch every word that passed between you and Sara.

His chest tightened with each sentence, and the weight of your words sank deep into him, heavy and suffocating.

She is choosing Cerwyn… because she thinks I do not love her.

That I have chosen Arra.

That I have been lying to her.

The realization gnawed at him, his heart hammering in his chest as the echoes of your voice reverberated in his mind, sharp and cruel. He had been too blind, too slow—had allowed himself to believe that time would mend things when in truth, it had only pushed him further from you.

When Sara spoke of things left unsaid, of truths that needed to be shared, his throat tightened painfully. She was right—he had waited too long. The silence between you, the things left unspoken, had built a wall between you both. Now it seemed insurmountable.

He could hear you clearly now, your voice resolute, cutting through the fog of his confusion.

“Cerwyn is what I need.”

The certainty in your words sent a jolt of despair through him.

Cregan swallowed, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, his knuckles white against the stone wall. He kept his eyes trained on the floor, willing himself to stay still, to remain silent, but the weight of your decision pressed down on him like a storm. His throat burned, and a tear slipped down his cheek, unnoticed in the dim light as his world came crashing down around him.

Your words hit him harder than any blade ever could, each one driving deeper into the heart he thought he still had a chance to save. He stood there, trapped in the shadows, torn between revealing himself and retreating further into the darkness of his own failures. He remained hidden, knowing that no words could undo the damage, no confession could heal what had already been broken.

The pain was suffocating, relentless—a tidal wave that swept him under, drowning him in a sorrow he could not escape.

I am too late.

I have lost her.

Cregan’s heart cracked under the weight of his realization, his body shaking with the force of it. He wanted to scream, to demand that things be different, but all that remained was the crushing silence, and the knowledge that he had waited too long to fight for what mattered most.

I have lost her.

⟸ Previous Chapter ❖ Next Chapter ⟹

[xoxojuyo]

Out of reach pt. II - jungkook

𐙚 pairing lawyer!jungkook x nepobaby!reader

𐙚 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS SERIES CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT

𐙚 word count 1,6K words

𐙚 warnings jungkook is older than reader, even tough on mention of ages, kissing, CHEATING, reader is aware and feels guilt

Hope you enjoy 🤍✨ pt. I

You adjusted your oversized hoodie as you and Wonyoung stepped into the trendy café, the smell of roasted coffee beans filling the air. Fresh from your Pilates class, both were glowing with a post-workout flush.

“So, this weekend, we’re going, right?” Wonyoung asked, scrolling through pictures of Kelingking Beach on her phone.

“Definitely,” you replied. “I need the ocean breeze. It’s been too long since we had a proper getaway.”

As you approached the counter, a familiar voice from behind caught you off guard.

“y/n?”

You froze. Your eyes darted toward the source of the voice. Jungkook stood there, his expression a mix of surprise and uncertainty. He looked effortlessly stylish in a black oversized t shirt, black washed out black jeans and baseball cap.

“Hi,” he said tentatively, his tone soft, almost careful. “How have you been?”

You felt your chest tighten. Without a word, you turned your back to him, focusing on the menu board as though it held the secrets of the universe.

Wonyoung, sensing the tension, whispered, “Is that… him? The guy from the flight?”

You gave a terse nod, biting your lip.

Once you had your coffees, you sat by the window. Wonyoung leaned in, curiosity brimming. “So… what’s the deal? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You sighed, staring at the swirling foam in your cup. “It’s just… seeing him brings it all back. I was confused at first, thinking maybe I misread everything. But the more I thought about it, the angrier I got. He acted like he cared, but he was just playing with me the whole time.”

Your mind flashed back to your flight together—the stolen glances, the laughter, the way he’d leaned in just a little too close. For a moment, it had felt like you were the only two people in the world. And then, the crushing blow of his confession: I have a girlfriend.

~

The neon glow of the bar lights bathed the room in shades of pink and blue. You clinked your martini glass with Wonyoung’s, the gin warming your chest as you let yourself get lost in the music.

“Eunju, who are you texting?” Wonyoung teased.

“My guy,” Eunju replied with a grin. “He’s here with his friends. Mind if they join us?”

“Sure,” the girls chimed in unison.

Minutes later, Eunju waved over a group of guys. Your smile faltered when you saw him—Jungkook.

“Seriously?” You muttered under your breath.

He caught your eye and gave a small nod, but you avoided his gaze, focusing on your drink. Jungkook, however, didn’t seem deterred, attempting small talk every chance he got.

Finally, needing a moment to yourself, you grabbed your pack of cigarettes and headed to the terrace. The cool night air did little to soothe your nerves.

A few minutes later, the door creaked open, and Jungkook stepped out.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I know I hurt you. I understand why you’re avoiding me.”

You exhaled a plume of smoke, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’ll leave you alone,” he said, turning to go.

“Do you love her?” The question escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Jungkook stopped in his tracks, then slowly turned back to face you.

“I thought I did,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “I thought that once I got back to my routine, I’d feel guilty. That it was just a moment of weakness for a beautiful girl.”

Your breath hitched.

“But I couldn’t stop thinking about how incomplete I felt. How little I knew you but wanted to know more. To kiss you again.”

Jungkook stepped closer, the intensity in his gaze making your heart race. Your breath intensified as the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you on the terrace.

Without a word, he reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. His fingertips lingered, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he murmured, his voice low and vulnerable.

Before you could respond, his lips met yours.

The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters. His lips were warm, soft, and impossibly gentle, yet there was a tension beneath the surface—an urgency that spoke of longing and regret.

You froze for a split second, your mind racing, the thought of what you were doing was tremendously evil. But then something inside you gave way, it just felt so good, not just his lips felt good, but the controversy of the act, the forbiddeness of your relationship, so you kissed him back. It was like a dam breaking, all the pent-up emotions from your short-lived story on the plane pouring out in that moment.

Jungkook’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a way that made your knees weaken. His other hand rested lightly on your waist, pulling you closer, as if afraid you might slip away again.

The kiss deepened, growing more passionate with each passing second. His tongue caressing yours, his teeth biting your lower lip, the exchange of saliva getting more intense. His lips moved against yours with a desperation that mirrored your own, as though he was trying to make up for everything, like he promised.

The cool night air contrasted sharply with the heat between you, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself to the moment.

When you finally broke apart, both were breathless, your foreheads nearly touching, his lips swollen and slightly tinted with your red lipstick. His eyes searched yours, as though trying to decipher the storm of emotions swirling within you.

“y/n…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

But you couldn’t find the words to respond, your mind a whirl of confusion, desire, and the painful knowledge of everything that had brought them to this point.

“This isn’t fair,” you said looking at him straight to the eyes. “For neither of us, your girlfriend and me.”

His eyes went from ecstatic to disillusioned, “I understand…”

~

After that night at the bar, everything changed. Jungkook had insisted on taking you home, his insistence both polite and protective. Before you left his car, he handed you his phone, asking softly, “Your number?”

You hesitated, guilt swirling in your chest. But there was something in his gaze—vulnerability, longing—that you couldn’t resist. You typed in your number, sealing a fate you weren’t sure you were ready for.

Since then, you had been talking on KakaoTalk every day. Your conversations were casual at first—simple exchanges about how your days went or what you were doing. But over time, the messages grew longer, more intimate. He’d send pictures of his meals, ask you about your favorite songs, and even shared silly anecdotes from his day.

You felt guilty, of course. Horribly guilty. Every time his name popped up on your screen, you thought about the girl he was betraying. But you couldn’t deny how much you looked forward to those chats, how comforting it was to talk to him, how utterly magnetic he was.

When you mentioned to Wonyoung that you had invited him to dinner at your grandfather’s restaurant—a Michelin-starred culinary gem—she didn’t hold back.

“You’re awful, y/n,” she said bluntly. “You’re helping him cheat.”

“I know,” you muttered, staring at your phone.

“But…” Wonyoung softened. “I know how much you like him. Just… think everything through, okay? Before this gets too serious. You’re not just playing with fire—you’re bathing in it.”

~

The restaurant was warm and intimate, with soft golden lighting that illuminated the intricate woodwork and glass displays of your grandfather’s creations. You had reserved a private table, tucked away in a corner overlooking the city skyline.

You chose a sleek, black silk dress that hugged your figure but fell elegantly to your knees, paired with simple gold jewelry and black heels. Jungkook arrived in a tailored navy suit, the crisp white shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of his collarbone. He looked effortlessly stunning, and the sight of him made your pulse quicken.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he pulled out your chair, his voice low and sincere.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, taking your seat.

The dinner began with a series of amuse-bouches, each more exquisite than the last. You watched as Jungkook tried each dish with curiosity and delight, his reactions varying from wide-eyed amazement to playful critiques.

“This one,” he said, pointing to a delicate scallop dish. “Is almost too pretty to eat. But I’ll make the sacrifice.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

As the main courses arrived—perfectly seared Wagyu steak for him, a delicate truffle risotto for you—your conversation turned lighthearted. He teased you about your inability to drink espresso without sugar, and you teased him back about his obsession with perfectly symmetrical food plating.

But then, as dessert arrived—a stunning mille-feuille with caramelized apples—Jungkook’s tone shifted.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, his gaze dropping to his hands. “About my relationship.”

You set down your fork, your stomach twisting.

“My relationship… it didn’t start naturally,” he admitted. “My father is a well-known lawyer, and he works closely with a famous politician. They would joke for years about how their youngest children should date. Eventually, they arranged a meeting for us.”

You stayed silent, watching as he struggled to put his thoughts into words.

“At first, I thought I liked her. She’s a good woman, everything someone could ask for. I convinced myself that I loved her. It was easy. It felt… safe.”

He looked up at you, his eyes searching yours.

“But then I met you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“For the first time, I questioned everything. You make me feel things I didn’t think I was capable of feeling—excitement, curiosity, passion. You’ve made me realize how much I’ve been settling.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt a flicker of hope—small, fragile, but undeniable. Maybe… just maybe… this wasn’t impossible after all.

@taekritimin123 @futuristicenemychaos @jnghs

[cautious-soup]

an 'interview'

Superbattinson Drabble :) [nsfw themes kinda]

Clark is a reporter and Bruce is a famous billionaire, so it makes sense they'd meet like this. Only, Bruce is supremely horny in this, and very single minded in getting Clark in a bed as soon as possible.

Curls.

Lovely, dark, messy curls.

"Um, Mr. Wayne?" the reporter asked. What was his name again? Bruce wasn't sure it mattered, so long as he was under him within the hour.

"Sorry, I lost myself." Bruce said, and smiled, "But if it's an interview you want I'm more than happy to oblige."

"Oh!" The reporter ducked his head to look down at his notebook, those curls falling over his eyes, "Um, yeah! I mean, yes..." he said, looking up from his notebook and down (fuck) at Bruce, "Where did you want to...?"

"How about the Orchard?" Bruce said, clapping the man on the shoulder and...wow. He let his hand linger, and slide an inch or two down the other man's forearm before letting it fall back to his side.

"Yes, the Orchard, of course!" The reporter beamed, eyes crinkling behind his glasses. 

Bruce cleared his throat. 

"Then, if you please," he said, nodding toward his corvette, "We'll head there now,"

"Oh...oh you really meant now..." The reporter (Corey? Cal?) said. 

Bruce opened the passenger door, letting the reporter duck inside before moving to the drivers seat.

"Wow," the other man breathed, running a hand along the upholstery before pulling it to his chest and glancing at Bruce, "This car is amazing...what year?"

" '63," Bruce said with a smirk, "I take it you like cars, then?" 

"Ah...a passing interest, but I know a good car when I see it, I mean the body on this is amazing," 

"Yes, yes it is," Bruce said, taking a moment as they stopped at a red light to let his gaze slide over the other man's form. He looked very *very* solid under that ill-fitting suit. 

Bruce gripped the steering wheel, pulling off a bit too rough when the light changed back to green.

After finally making it to the hotel, Bruce swung the key around his finger once as he turned to the reporter, "Alright, let's head up."

Bruce ignored the glances he received from the other patrons as they made their way to the elevator.

"Wow, people sure do like to stare huh?" The reporter said quietly.

"You get used to it," Bruce shrugged, pressing the button, "Let's just hope they don't get the wrong idea, hm?" He said lowly, giving the reporter a much more obvious once-over, and a smile. 

The reporter's cheeks bloomed into a perfect shade of pink. Bruce turned away and swallowed.

Soon.

[mrsburreaux]

Next time, Joe burrow x reader

Uhm so this is my first fic ever so I hope you guys like this and potentially would like more??🤞🏼😛 cause writing this was fun, like really fun. -Katrina

Warnings: none I don’t think, maybe y/n being fed up

The front door shut a little harder than usual, the sound echoing through the quiet house. You looked up from the couch where you’d been curled up under a blanket, waiting for Joe to get home. The Bengals had just lost to the Ravens, and you could feel the tension the moment he stepped inside.

“Hey,” you said cautiously, standing up and taking a step toward him. “Rough night?”

He let out a sharp breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Something like that.”

You frowned, already sensing the storm brewing under his words. “I’m sorry, Joe. I know how much this game meant to you.”

“Yeah? Do you?” he snapped, his eyes flashing as he finally looked at you.

You blinked at the sharpness in his tone but tried to keep your voice calm. “I mean, I watched the game. It was tough. But it’s not all on you—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, his voice rising. “Don’t try to tell me it’s not all on me. I’m the quarterback, Y/N. Everything runs through me. And when I can’t deliver, the whole team suffers. So yeah, it is my fault!”

You froze, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch. “Joe, I’m not blaming you. I’m just trying to talk to you.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to talk right now!” he shot back, his voice louder this time.

You flinched, your chest tightening. “Seriously? That’s how you’re going to act? I’m the one who’s been sitting here worrying about you, waiting for you to come home so I could make you feel better. And this is how you talk to me?”

Joe turned away, pacing the room, his hands on his hips. “You don’t get it,” he muttered.

Your heart sank. “I don’t get it?” you repeated, your voice shaking now. “I don’t get what it’s like to feel like you’re not good enough? To feel like everything’s your fault? Joe, I’ve been there too, okay? Maybe not in front of thousands of people, but I know what it’s like to feel like you’re letting everyone down.”

He stopped pacing, but he didn’t turn around.

“And you know what?” you continued, your voice breaking. “I’ve never taken it out on you. I’ve never made you feel small just because I was upset.”

Silence filled the room, thick and heavy. Joe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his back to you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Finally, you shook your head and turned toward the bedroom. “I’m done trying to help you when you won’t let me in,” you said quietly before closing the door behind you.

———————————————————————————————————————

Minutes passed. Maybe more. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, your heart still racing. You hated fighting with him, but you hated the way he’d spoken to you even more.

The door creaked open, and you looked up to see Joe standing there, his shoulders slumped. He looked different now—less angry, more… broken.

“Y/N,” he said softly, stepping inside.

You didn’t answer. You just waited.

He ran a hand down his face and let out a shaky breath. “I messed up.”

You crossed your arms, still waiting.

“I shouldn’t have talked to you like that,” he said, his voice thick. “I shouldn’t have taken my frustration out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I didn’t,” you said, your voice steady even though your eyes burned.

Joe stepped closer, his eyes pleading. “I know. And I’m so sorry. I just… I felt like I let everyone down tonight. The team. The fans. Myself. And then I came home, and you were trying to be there for me, and I—” He swallowed hard. “I pushed you away instead.”

You looked at him for a long moment, letting his words sink in. “You really hurt me, Joe.”

“I know,” he said quickly, reaching for your hands. “I hate that I did that. I swear it won’t happen again. I’ll do better. I need you, Y/N. Especially after nights like this.”

You let him take your hands, and when he squeezed them tightly, you felt the sincerity in his touch.

“Okay,” you said softly. “But don’t shut me out next time. Deal?”

“Deal,” he promised, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

And as he pulled you into his arms, you felt the last of the tension melt away. You both knew there would be more hard games ahead—but this time, you’d face them together.

[jjoongstar]

𝕷𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑

➸pairing: grim reaper seonghwa x innocent fem reader

➸genre: fluff, angst

➸wc: 3.4k

➸warnings: none. mentions of nicknames. death

➸a/n: an apology post for being mia for a while (please forgive me). not proofread!😔🫂

you sat by the window seat in your bedroom, reading a book while you bask in the evening sun. a soft blanket over your lap to keep you cozy and a cushion behind your back. you were so into the story that you didn't bother on what's happening appearing, in your bedroom.

a tall dark figure appeared suddenly in your room and it approached behind you in silence. you sense the presence and looked over your shoulder right before the figure could touch you. its pale hand was near to your shoulder but it halted when you noticed its presence.

silence fills the air as you attentively tried to figure out, who or what even is this peculiar figure. tall and lean with a long black cloak that covers the top of its head and its whole body, only revealing its face and hands. you stare back at the eyes that bore into yours from the start. though he had an intimidating look, you didn't fear him at all. instead, you felt at ease with its aura.

"i really like your eyes,"

"what?" the unknown figure was taken aback by your words and he stumbled backwards a few steps.

its face contorts in a shocked expression and it felt its heart thump when you smile at it. it clutches the fabric of its robe over its chest, feeling the weird sensation. what the hell is this? i don't have a heart!

you marked the last page you read and place the book aside before you make small steps towards the unknown entity. your smile never falter as you reach up your hands and graze your fingers across its cheek. cold. his skin was iced cold on your fingertips. you saw how the entity hitched its breath upon your touch.

"you're so pretty too. who are you?" there was no response as it was still in a stunned state. you gasp when your brain connected the dots.

"are you perhaps… an angel?!"

"huh? EW NO!" it felt disgusted by your assumption of its identity and grabbed your wrist, shoving it away harshly from its face. when you winced in pain, guilty flooded its mind.

"sorry, i didn't mean to hurt or scare you," its raspy voice speaks again.

"you didn't scare me, why would i be afraid of an angel like you," a pretty face like that, who on earth would be afraid?

"first off, I'm not that kind of angel you think i am. also, everyone fears me, so why are you…smiling?"

"there's nothing scary of you angel!" you said giddily and beams a wider smile at him.

"stop calling me that!" it said through gritted teeth and eyes blaring in flame. but you kept that smile on your face, yet you felt more intrigued over this unidentified presence.

"then do you have a name i should call you? oh my name is-"

"i already know who you are. there's no need for introductions when…you're gonna…huh?" the last words from it fades slowly when you wrap your arms around its middle and your eyes full of gleam, looking at it from below.

its shaky hands tried to push you away but the way your face was full of admiration and eyes glimmer in hope, it tugs another string at its non-existent heart. i guess it wouldn't hurt for my name since she's gonna die either way.

"seonghwa. call me seonghwa,"

"hwa!" his name sounded so beautiful too, it matches his face really well and you felt so happy that he finally gave his name to you. you hugged him a bit tighter than before.

"no, seong…hwa," he emphasised every syllable of his name.

"hwa!"

"seonghwa,"

"HWA!" he sighs in defeat and lets you win. however, he felt his body getting relaxed when you have him in your hold. for once, he felt…comfort.

"now dear, the reason I'm here is to-"

"to accompany me!" you cut him off and release him from your grasp as you went to your wardrobe.

he tried to speak up in defense but you ignored him as you dress yourself up in something warm and suitable for an outside occasion. you grab his wrist and drags him towards outside. even though he is bigger and much stronger than you, he felt like he should just let you take him to wherever you wish. that is, to take a walk outside.

he kept on babbling he doesn't want to to this, but he still kept on walking beside you because your hand felt so soft touching his, and you never let go of his hand. after a while, you got used to his skin temperature. cold, but soft.

you pass by your neighbor's house and the owner greeted you. being your usual self, you gleefully greeted back with a wave of your hand.

"I'm here with a friend today," you tug seonghwa to show off to the old lady, but she had a concerned look instead of the expression you hoped for. was she not happy with the new friend?

"oh uh dear, i bet your friend must be as lovely as you are, i hope…. you go get along now," she mutters out the words carefully in a sentence. hoping she doesn't hurt your feelings.

you continued your journey with seonghwa and truthfully, you felt a bit sad that the lady didn't greet seonghwa too. does she not see him?

"no one can see me accept you," you turned your head over him surprised with his sudden response. can he read minds?

"well, let's say, magically, i do can read your mind, but just yours," he chuckles and you felt your heart flutters upon hearing him.

"so you are an angel!" you stopped in your tracks and tugs on his arm.

"not so, well, sort of, actually I'm a…uh…I'm…" he tongue refuses to mutter out the words as he saw the way your eyes sparkles in adoration and hope at him. he didn't have the heart to say the truth when you're like this. but you kept the smile on your face, waiting for his full response.

"yea, i am what you call that," he sighs.

"angel hwa!" you finally release his hand and you skipped your way back home. you've never felt so happier to eventually got a friend, an angel at that. that's what you thought he was.

seonghwa on the other hand, his lips formed into a small smile on his face, his eyes admiring you from behind. she looks so adorable. what the actual fuck? he slaps his own face, realizing his own actions.

you made yourself dinner and even made extra for seonghwa. he doesn't have to eat, but seeing your efforts in the cooking, he force the whole dish down his throat. he sat beside you and prop his chin with the palm of his hand while he admires you enjoying your meal. he likes the way you would squirm in joy and praise the food in every bite.

so cute. what the hell seonghwa?! he snaps himself out and clears up his throat. then tells you to clean yourself up for bed. you happily obliged to his orders with a happy stomach.

once you made yourself in bed, seonghwa tells you to sleep, but you only whine back at him as you were not that sleepy yet. seonghwa sighs and sits down beside you on the bed, he leans his back to the headboard.

"sleep now or you'll be cranky next morning," he pulls the blanket over your chest, tucking you in.

"but i don't get cranky," you whine again with a pout. seonghwa's lips betrays him once again with another smile and he caresses your head gently. yea, a pure soul like yours would never be in that state. a pure soul. SOUL!

seonghwa's eyes widen and found himself in a daze again and snaps out of it quickly. your eyes never left seonghwa's beautiful face. you want to admire it your whole life. you finally felt the drowsiness crept in when you yawned.

"will i see you again next morning, hwa?" you ask him with lidded tired eyes.

seonghwa hesitated at first. should he tell the truth or should he kept on lying? he bit his lip, before responding to you.

"yes, you will. that is if you close your eyes now sweetheart," you scrunch you nose when he boops it.

you felt so safe with him. you held hope in his promise. eager in wanting to see him first thing in the morning, and you force yourself to sleep.

seonghwa waited for you to finally drift off when your breathing fell consistent and your mind at peace. he stood up carefully from the bed, staring down at your whole body. he lets out a long sigh before he brings out the scythe he had kept hidden from your vision.

he needs to take your soul now. he was supposed to do that when he first met you, but he delayed. you were the first person to like him, to admire his beauty, the first human being to actually hugged him. hug. who knew a human would hug a grim reaper that was bout to take its soul away.

seonghwa grips the scythe's holder tighter. hesitate clouds his head. take her soul now seonghwa! he hovers the weapon above your body but his movements faltered when his eyes lands on your face, snoring quietly with a smile. must be having a nice dream.

FUCKING HELL SEONGHWA! he caught himself off guard and threw his scythe away as it disappeared again, back to its safe place. he walks away from you and runs his hand through his hair. frustration. confusion. denial.

he sits down on a chair that was facing you from a far. he decides to calm himself down and maybe wait a just little bit longer, then he'll take your soul. the night went on in silence as he stayed there admiring you from a far.

through the dark sky, from the same window he first laid eyes on you, dark smoke clouds behind it and slips through into the bedroom through a little gap. the smoke then swirls around the end of your bed and it thickens to form two new identical entities.

"fucking hell, look at her san!" said the first dark little figure with horns to the other one that looks just the same just a tad bit bigger.

you twist in your sleep that results in the blanket to be pushes aside, revealing your bare calves.

"wooyoung! she looks so scrumptious, don't you think?" the other one hovered over your body and points out at your exposed plump skin.

"i want to sink my teeth in and savor her…" the one named wooyoung reached out his hands and bare its teeth to you while his other companion, san, was already drooling to the thought.

"don't you two dare touch her, demons." a thundering growl elicits by the grim reaper from the darkness in the corner of the bedroom.

the two little demons shrieked and hugged each other as they were surprised by the sudden interruption of their nice meal.

"damn, seonghwa! calm down will ya. you're always cranky all the time, try smiling for once," wooyoung pulled away from san first and walks over to seonghwa but he only made a few steps before he halted as seonghwa gave him an intense glare.

"I'm a reaper, why should i be smiling you filthy thing. why do you two chose her to disturb tonight either way?" seonghwa stood beside your bed as to protect you from the harm of the two demons.

"well actually we're not here for her, we're here for you. she's just so beautiful we kinda got distracted," san was the one tho explained while wooyoung nodded, agreeing with him. seonghwa only gave a glaring look just for the same demon to further elaborate.

"her soul was supposed to collected, but in the list, its still hasn't, so we we're tasked to go check it out as it was your responsibility, seonghwa," a tight frown forms on the reaper's face. he knew this would happen. he sighs in annoyance before giving his reason.

"give me some time, i promise I'll give it soon. now go back to hell you two!" seonghwa shoos them away but they were whining not wanting to leave and stay with you.

"get the fuck out!" seonghwa opens wide the window before shoving the two outside and closes it back shut and pulls down the curtain.

he heard a soft sound from behind him, you were twisting and turning in your sleep, muttering incoherent words. he steps closer to you and heard you calling out for him, but your eyes were still shut. he lays himself down beside you and pulls you into his arms.

i shall never let anything taint your little innocent soul.

"hwa…" you mumble out his name and he shushes you back to sleep.

"I'm here, you're hwa is here."

your body felt his presence and snuggles into his chest. seonghwa pulls you in tighter and lets you rest under his protection for the entire night.

you felt bright light beaming onto your face and you were woken up by the sun shining from your window. your stretch out your limbs with a soft grunt. you felt sudden adrenaline that morning, it was the most peaceful sleep you've ever had and you wanted to tell seonghwa. you need see seonghwa. you looked all over your room, but no one was there.

"seonghwa?" you heart sinks when there was no response. did he left? but he promised…

"seonghwa!" you voice in a higher octave but cracked as you were on edge of bawling your eyes out.

"my dear, i was out to fetch some food for you," his voice erupted from the opening of the door. you jumped out of bed and ran towards him. he held the tray of a full meal higher in the air so it doesn't bump you when you abruptly wrap your arms around him.

"i thought you left,"

"well, i didn't, now sit down and eat your food, human," you happily made your way to a small table as seonghwa puts down the tray and lets you gobble them all up.

you were hugging in bed and you rest the side of your head to his chest, and you hum curiously as you let your hand wander around his chest.

"i don't have a heart sweetie," he said

"well, i do," you exclaimed and took his frail hand and place it firmly on your chest. he gasped quietly as he feels your heartbeat. the soft thumping felt so surreal to his hands. it felt so soft and beautiful. and he wanted to keep on feeling and hearing this heartbeat forever. to cherish it everyday of his immortal lifetime.

realization of his true demeanor made him snap out of the trance you put him in. he realized he should've end that beating heart of yours, not admire it.

he pushes you away from him. though, his actions never made you think negatively. you giddily grab him back and snuggles back on his chest. seonghwa was easily defeated by your innocence and he lets you get comfortable with him again. another day of spending more time you, and ignoring his true intentions.

days after days, you two spent a lot of time together, actually, the whole time. from morning to night, from dusk till dawn, from midnight to midday. every hour, every minute, every second. you enjoyed his company very much and he was getting more comfortable with you and protected you at all times behind your back without you knowing.

seonghwa sat on your bed with his legs crossed and back leans against the headboard as he listens attentively to your little rambling of the book you're currently reading.

"…and then the queen took in her late husband's mistress into becoming her new slave and they got married in the end! yayyy happily ever after to them!" you throw your hands both up in the air joyfully.

"you're so adorable, come here," seonghwa chuckles and you made your way to him before he pulls you down to sit on his lap.

the longer he stayed with you, you became very familiar of his bold and alluring scent. he smells so rich and seductive. the burst of sweet and spicy, like of coffees and vanillas which gives off a warm and also intoxicating aura.

seonghwa wraps your smaller body with his arms. you snuggle into his embrace as you leaned your back against his chest. his fingers trace undefinable patterns on the skin of your arms. you elicits soft giggle as it tickles you a bit. hearing your soft sounds, also made seonghwa giggles along with you. it tugs the heartstrings of his non existing heart.

you love little moments like this with him.

but luck was not on your side that day. the same smoke that almost haunt you in your sleep came back. though this time, it was only the the demon named wooyoung that appeared.

"yo seonghwa, its been three months. what took you so long to take…her…soul??" you gasp when you laid eyes on the horned devil. seonghwa quickly covered your eyes with his hands and you felt his chest vibrates as he growls.

"FUCKING HELL!! are you hugging…wait…why are you…no wait…have you lost your…wait WAIT…WHAT ARE EVEN YOU DOING PARK SEONGHWA?!!" the little menace widens his eyes. hands pulling the long strands of his hair. shouting. screaming. panicking. shocked? no, he was far more than that. he almost exploded with the sight in front of him.

you tried to release his hand as you wanted to have your visions back but his grip to your face became tighter.

"please leave…" you heard him sigh.

"please? did you just said please? damn, a reaper begging and said the 'P' word to a lowlife like me? that's a first. what have you become…"

"I SAID LEAVE!" the demon quickly disappeared right before the blade of seonghwa's scythe could touch him when he swung it.

the room fell in utter silence when seonghwa retracts his hand back. you looked down to your hands instead of looking to the man behind you.

"I'm sorry, i should've told the truth. that I'm-"

"a grim reaper,"

you felt seonghwa's body getting tense after hearing those words coming out from your mouth. you turned around and held his face in the palm of your hands.

"i already knew from the first time you came into my room,"

"huhh how? then…why did you-"

"you reek death, hwa," your chuckles made him giggle. let's savor this last smile of him before the last breath.

sorrow fills seonghwa's eyes. you couldn't help but feel bad for him. he pulls you closer to his chest, his face on the side of your neck, his hands placed themselves on your back, pushing you as close as he can to you. chest to chest. he felt every beat of your heart. remember and loving every thump. you wrap your arms around his neck and brush along his silky black hair.

"I'm really sorry…i should've done it sooner…i should not have grown attached to you…i-" you shush him and heard little sobs from the side of your ear.

he pulls you away and his hand cups the side of your cheek as his thumb rubs along your cheekbones. he pulls your face closer to his and place his lips onto yours. for an angel of death, his lips were soft and it tasted so sweet.

"forgive me, my little soul," he pulls away from you as his other hand grips the handle of his scythe behind you till it could almost snap in two.

"seonghwa." you trace your fingers across seonghwa's beautiful dark teary eyes for the last time.

you flash him a soft smile and gave him a last kiss on his lips. a tear rolled down seonghwa's face as he felt your last breath on his face and your body fell limp in his hold. he choked on his sobs when he no longer feel your lovely beating heart.

for a grim reaper who has no soul, he felt his non-existent heart shatter to a million pieces.

she finally said my name.

dividers

taglist: @engentiny @seonghw4ffles

network: @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

[mysterialistic]

I have an issue with the fact that Qiao Ling and Xiao Li are dead too. (Long ramble)

For me, this undermines Lu Guang's complexity and motivation. Why? Because they're portraying him as some kind of hero—the great "last hope."

For over a year since the Season 2 finale, we've believed the opposite about Lu Guang. We saw him as hypocritical and deceitful because he was trying to change the past and break a death node—a rule he established and even scolded Cheng Xiaoshi for disobeying. At the end of Season 2, Lu Guang says, "I want to use the last chance to go back to the beginning and save YOU." For so long, it’s been clear that he only cared about saving Cheng Xiaoshi. They've repeatedly emphasized and convinced us through songs and promotional material of this: that his sole focus was Cheng Xiaoshi, and no one else mattered to him.

The fact that Lu Guang prioritized saving Cheng Xiaoshi, despite the potential consequences for others (like the theory that avoiding Cheng Xiaoshi's tragic fate caused the deaths of Li Tianxi, Chen Bin, and Emma), is what made Lu Guang a great character. He wasn’t a typical hero—he was human. He was afraid of loss and suffering, of living without his best friend. This fear consumed him to the point where he never even allowed himself to grieve. Cheng Xiaoshi brought meaning and color to his life, and Lu Guang deemed him the only one worthy of saving because of his good intentions and kind heart.

If they now include Qiao Ling and Xiao Li among those Lu Guang wants to save, it completely changes the essence of his character. It takes away the personal, deeply human motivation that made him so complex and relatable. We could relate to him because, if we were in his position, with the power of going back in time after tragically loosing a loved one, many of us would do the same or at least consider it. And now, instead of Lu Guang being driven by personal loss and denial, he becomes a stereotypical hero trying to save everyone. It’s an absolute cliché that even goes against the main principle of the series back in season 1: "past or future let them be".

Maybe Qiao Ling being dead could make sense, since she’s close to him, but even that feels off. Lu Guang has never shown a strong desire to save her specifically. Besides, it doesn’t align with what we’ve seen: in Lu Guang’s memory, Qiao Ling didn’t see herself die like Cheng Xiaoshi did. Killing her off would also strip away an interesting aspect of her character—her determination to protect her younger brother. In Season 3, she could confront Lu Guang about his actions and actively try to help him. If she’s meant to die too, it reduces her to a damsel in distress, reinforcing the unfortunate tendency of Link Click to mishandle its female characters.

As for Xiao Li, his inclusion feels completely random. He wasn’t close enough to Lu Guang to justify being a major motivation for him. If anything, he would be at the very bottom of Lu Guang’s list of priorities.

Anyway, I’m sorry for the long ramble—I just needed to get this off my chest. I still hope this might be a red herring and that they’re not actually dead yet. Or perhaps they died in the first timeline, but Lu Guang managed to save them while still being unable to save Cheng Xiaoshi, no matter how hard he tried. I don’t know. I’ll trust Link Click and wait to see how they justify or resolve this in a way that makes sense and preserves the characters’ essence.

[misshoneyimhome]

I’m not sure if you’ll write this but I’m dying for it and your writing is incredible. Willy Nylander dating a Bruins fan PLEASEEE

Hey there, love 🤗

Alright, so this feels more like a blurb than a proper fic chapter, but I just wanted to say I absolutely love your idea—and I hope I’ve captured at least a bit of it 😘 I don’t know much about being a Bruins fan, so I just followed my intuition on that one 😉

I will say, though, I can definitely see the potential for a series here—not necessarily based on this particular one-shot, but in general, there’s so much to explore! It might be worth diving into - so many details I didn't include 🥰

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this as it is 😘

Tropes & Warnings: William Nylander x reader, enemies to lovers, rival teams, no warnings, just fluff

Word count: 3.2K

➼｡ﾟ

Rivals in Love I William Nylander

It had been a long day at work, and you were in desperate need of coffee before tackling the rest of your to-do list. The little café tucked on a quiet street near downtown Boston was your go-to spot. The place always had the best lattes and, more importantly, it was never crowded.

You pushed open the door, the tiny bell jingling to announce your arrival, and stepped inside. The smell of fresh coffee beans and warm pastries instantly soothed your nerves. But you were so focused on debating between a caramel macchiato or a cold brew that you didn’t notice someone walking toward you until—

Crash.

Hot coffee spilled down the front of your sweatshirt, and a sharp gasp escaped your lips.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” a voice said.

You looked up, your initial annoyance faltering when you saw the man responsible. He was tall, his blond hair slightly dishevelled, with bright blue eyes staring at you apologetically.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, though the sticky heat soaking through your shirt suggested otherwise.

“Here,” he said quickly, grabbing a handful of napkins from a nearby table and handing them to you. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. That’s on me.”

“No kidding,” you replied, dabbing at the mess. Then, as you glanced back up at him, recognition dawned. “Wait a second… I know you.”

He tilted his head, a small smirk forming on his lips. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “You’re William Nylander.”

His smirk grew, but before he could respond, you added, “I guess it makes sense. Leafs players are used to fumbling.”

His eyebrows shot up, and then he let out a laugh—a genuine, hearty laugh that caught you off guard. “Wow. That’s the first thing you say to me?”

“Don’t take it personally,” you said with a shrug, trying to ignore how ridiculously good-looking he was. “I’m a Bruins fan.”

“Ah, that explains it,” he said, his smirk returning. “I’ve been told your kind can be… difficult.”

You rolled your eyes. “Difficult or honest?”

“Depends on the day,” he replied, and there was something in his tone—teasing, but also intrigued.

You expected him to brush off the conversation and move on, but instead, he stuck around, asking for your name and making casual small talk while the barista quickly made William a replacement drink.

“I’ll pay for hers too,” William insisted, handing over his card before you could protest.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said, meeting your gaze with an easy smile. “Consider it an apology. And maybe a peace offering? Even if you are a Bruins fan.”

“Fine,” you said, trying to suppress the small smile creeping onto your lips. “But this doesn’t mean I like you or your team.”

“Fair enough,” he said, grabbing his own drink from the counter. But as he turned to leave, he hesitated. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Will you be at the game tomorrow night?”

“Why? Hoping to convert me?”

“No,” he said, his grin widening. “Just wondering if I’ll have to skate extra hard to impress you.”

Before you could respond, he gave you a playful wink and walked out the door, leaving you standing there, completely caught off guard.

_

The next evening, you found yourself in a dilemma. You hadn’t planned on attending the Bruins-Leafs game—you usually watched from the comfort of your couch, where you could yell at the TV without judgment. But after yesterday’s unexpected encounter, a part of you couldn’t shake the thought of William Nylander skating with that cocky grin, wondering if you’d shown up.

Against your better judgment, you grabbed your Coyle jersey and headed to TD Garden, promising yourself it was only because your best friend, a Leafs fan, had an extra ticket. You weren’t going because of him.

Right?

The Garden was buzzing with energy. You cheered along with the crowd as the Bruins took the ice, booing extra loud when the Leafs players followed. Your friend rolled her eyes at your antics, but you didn’t care.

As the game started, you tried not to pay attention to the opposing #88, but it was impossible. William was everywhere—stealing pucks, setting up plays, and skating with an effortless grace that made you grit your teeth.

And midway through the second period, he scored. The Leafs bench erupted as the puck sailed past Swayman and into the net. You groaned, burying your face in your hands while your friend celebrated.

“That’s your guy,” she teased, elbowing you.

“He’s not my anything,” you shot back, though your cheeks burned.

As the arena quieted for the faceoff, you glanced down at the ice and caught him looking in your direction. He wasn’t even subtle about it—he skated slowly, his gaze locking with yours as he passed your section.

And then, to your horror, he winked.

You sank lower in your seat, cursing yourself for even being here.

After the game—a crushing overtime win for Toronto, much to your dismay—you were about to make your escape when your phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.

Unknown: Enjoy the game, Bruins fan?

You froze, staring at the screen.

You: How did you get my number?!

Unknown: I have my ways. A little birdie at the café helped me out.

You could practically hear the smugness in his voice.

You: I can’t believe you’re this desperate for validation.

Unknown: And yet, you came to the game. What does that say about you?

You hated how much his teasing made you smile.

And a few days later, you were back at your favourite café, quietly working through some emails when a shadow fell across your table. You didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

“You know, I’m starting to think you only come here hoping to bump into me,” William said, setting his coffee down across from you.

“I was here first,” you replied, glancing up at him. “Shouldn’t you be in Toronto or something?”

“We have a few days off,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair. “Thought I’d stick around Boston for a bit. It’s growing on me. Besides, my friend lives here; Pasta, you know him.”

“Careful,” you said, raising an eyebrow. “You’re starting to sound like a Bruins fan.”

He chuckled. “Not a chance. But I could be convinced to stick around… if you let me take you out sometime.”

The audacity of this man. You should’ve laughed in his face, reminded him of the years of heartbreak his team had inflicted on yours. But instead, you found yourself smiling.

“Fine,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant. “But don’t think this changes anything. I’m still wearing my Coyle jersey.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said with a grin.

_

A couple of weeks had passed since your impromptu coffee shop agreement to a “date” with William. You’d been casually out together a few times since then—dinners at quiet restaurants, coffee runs, even a casual walk through Boston Common—but you still couldn’t quite figure him out.

William Nylander, the Toronto Maple Leafs’ golden boy, had women fawning over him wherever he went. Yet somehow, you, a loud, opinionated Bruins fan, were the one he seemed determined to spend his free time with.

So, when he casually dropped the idea of you coming to Toronto to watch a game, your first instinct was to laugh it off.

“Right,” you said with a chuckle, taking a sip of your coffee. “I’m sure I’d fit right in at Scotiabank Arena in my Coyle jersey.”

“I’m serious,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’d be the most interesting person there. Besides, you’ve already seen us play in Boston. It’s only fair you experience it on my turf.”

You waved him off, brushing it aside as another one of his playful jabs.

But then, the next day, a notification lit up your phone: a plane ticket from Boston to Toronto, sent by none other than William.

You stared at the screen for what felt like an eternity.

This had to be a joke, right? A Leafs player going out of his way to invite you, a Bruins fan, to Toronto? It didn’t make sense.

He had options—lots of options. The kind of options who probably didn’t wear rival jerseys to dinner or roast him about Toronto’s lack of playoff success. So why was he bothering with you?

Your friend didn’t help, either. “I mean, it’s kind of romantic,” she said, scrolling through Instagram while lounging on your couch. “Maybe he just likes a challenge.”

You rolled your eyes. “Or maybe he just wants to prove he can win over a Bruins fan for the fun of it.”

“Why does it matter?” she said. “He’s into you. Who cares why? Take the trip.”

But you couldn’t shake the nagging doubt in the back of your mind. What if you went, and it turned out you were just some fleeting distraction? What if this was all a game to him? A bet between teammates?

You almost cancelled the flight.

Almost.

The day of the trip arrived, and you stood at Logan Airport, suitcase in hand, still second-guessing yourself. But as you boarded the plane and settled into your seat, you decided to stop overthinking. Maybe this was a bad idea—but maybe it wasn’t.

And a few hours later, you landed in Toronto, where William himself was waiting at the arrivals gate, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“You actually came,” he said, his grin as wide as the Toronto skyline.

“Don’t make me regret it,” you replied, though you couldn’t help but smile back.

The night of the game, you were a bundle of nerves as you slipped on your Coyle jersey. True to your word, you weren’t about to switch allegiances, even for William.

When you arrived at Scotiabank Arena, the Leafs fans around you gave you a mix of side-eyes and incredulous stares, but William had made sure you were seated in a private box to avoid any real drama.

And from the moment the puck dropped, your attention flicked between the ice and William. He was in his element, skating with that effortless confidence, his hair slicked back under his helmet.

Every time he touched the puck, your heart raced, though you’d never admit it. And when he scored late in the second period, his celebration was as dramatic as ever—this time, pointing directly at you in the box.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. He was so infuriating.

After the game, he found you waiting near the locker room, his grin as cocky as ever.

“Enjoy the show?” he asked, still catching his breath.

“You’re insufferable,” you said, crossing your arms.

“And yet, you’re still here,” he teased, his voice softer now.

You wanted to argue, to push back, but something about the way he looked at you made your walls crumble. Maybe he wasn’t just playing a game. Maybe this was real.

“Fine,” you said, your voice quieter. “Maybe I did enjoy it. Just a little.”

William’s smile widened, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours. “Good. Because I’m not giving up on you that easily.”

_

Over the next few weeks, your relationship with William started to feel… real. The texts, the calls, the late-night FaceTimes where he’d tease you about the Bruins while you fired back equally sharp chirps about the Leafs’ playoff history. It was comfortable in a way you hadn’t expected—like you’d known each other forever instead of just a few months.

He’d flown back to Boston twice since your trip to Toronto, once surprising you with tickets to a game that you’d begrudgingly attended (in your Bruins jersey, of course). And despite the growing attention from both your friends and random Leafs fans online—thanks to William’s not-so-subtle Instagram stories—it felt easy.

And that ease was what brought him to your apartment one chilly Thursday night, fresh off a practice in Toronto and desperate to escape the chaos of hockey for a few days. He showed up at your door with a crooked smile and a bag of takeout, unapologetically dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie, as if he wasn’t one of the most recognizable players in the NHL.

“I told you not to come here empty-handed,” you said as he stepped inside.

“I brought food,” he said, holding up the bag. “And me. That counts, right?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, leading him to the couch. The night unfolded in your usual way—dinner, teasing banter, and a ridiculous movie you half-watched while he tried to convince you to root for the Leafs just once.

“Never,” you said, nudging him with your elbow as the credits rolled.

“Not even if I score a hat trick in the playoffs?”

“Please. Like Toronto’s making it past the first round.”

He groaned dramatically, letting his head fall back against the couch. “You’re ruthless, you know that?”

“And you love it,” you shot back, earning a smirk that made your stomach flip.

As the room fell quiet, you realized how close he was. His arm was draped over the back of the couch, his body turned slightly toward you, his blue eyes soft as they studied your face.

“What?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“Nothing,” he said, but the way his gaze lingered told you otherwise.

You felt your cheeks heat under his scrutiny, and before you could overthink it, he leaned in, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His lips brushed against yours, soft and slow, like he was giving you every chance to pull away.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you leaned into him, your hands finding their way to his shoulders as the kiss deepened. The world outside faded, the only sound the faint hum of the TV and the quiet hitch of your breath as his fingers traced along your jawline.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a small, almost shy smile playing at his lips.

“You’re dangerous,” he murmured.

“You’re one to talk,” you whispered back, your heart pounding against your ribs.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the quiet intimacy stretching between you like a fragile thread. It was a different kind of silence—one that felt warm, electric, and charged with a million unspoken words.

“You know,” he said eventually, his voice low, “I don’t just come here for the food.”

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “I figured as much.”

“Good,” he said, kissing you again, slower this time, like he wanted to savour every second. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

And in that moment, you believed him.

-

Until you didn’t.

The first crack came during a Friday night dinner at a cosy Italian spot in the North End.

It was supposed to be a quiet evening, but halfway through your meal, the whispers started.

“That’s William Nylander…”

“…isn’t she a Bruins fan? What’s she doing with him?”

“…he’s always with someone new…”

You tried to brush it off, focusing on your pasta while William remained unfazed, casually twirling his fork like he didn’t hear a thing. But the longer it went on, the harder it was to ignore.

By the time dessert arrived, the insecurities you’d managed to suppress since Toronto had resurfaced with a vengeance.

“Do you ever… get tired of this?” you blurted, pushing your tiramisu around with your spoon.

William looked up, his brows furrowing. “Tired of what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “The attention. The whispers. Everyone thinking I’m just another one of your… whatever.”

His expression softened, but you didn’t stop.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had fun—really. But maybe this was just a thing, you know? A fun distraction for you while you’re on the road. I mean, you’re William Nylander. You could date anyone. Why me?”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, and the silence was deafening. You stared at your plate, feeling the familiar sting of regret creeping in. Maybe you’d gone too far. Maybe he’d been looking for an out, and you’d just handed it to him.

But then, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Why not you?” he said quietly, his voice steady. “You’re smart, funny, and the only person who makes me actually want to argue about hockey. You’re not afraid to chirp me when I deserve it—and even when I don’t. And yeah, the attention sucks sometimes, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is you.”

You blinked, your throat tightening as his words sank in.

“And for the record,” he added, a small smirk creeping onto his face, “you’re not a ‘fun distraction.’ If you were, I wouldn’t have flown to Boston twice in a month just to see you.”

Your lips twitched, a reluctant smile breaking through. “You’re really laying it on thick, huh?”

“Is it working?” he asked, his smirk turning into a full grin.

“Maybe,” you admitted, rolling your eyes but squeezing his hand back.

But the drama didn’t end there.

A few days later, an article popped up online: William Nylander Seen Cosying Up to Mysterious Bruins Fan in Boston.

The headline was bad enough, but the comments? Worse.

“She’s just another puck bunny.”

“Why would he date a Bruins fan? Total PR move.”

“She’s not even that pretty…”

You tried not to let it bother you, but when William called that night, you were unusually quiet.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

“Nothing,” you lied, staring at your laptop screen where the article was still open.

“Come on,” he pressed. “Talk to me.”

You sighed, finally breaking. “I don’t know if I can do this, Will. The articles, the comments… people think I’m just using you, or that I’m some… whatever they want to call me.”

“They don’t know you,” he said firmly. “And they don’t know us.”

“But they think they do,” you argued. “And it’s exhausting.”

He was quiet for a moment, and you braced yourself for the worst.

But then he spoke again, “What if I made it official?”

You froze. “What?”

“What if I posted about us?” he said, his tone calm but confident. “Let people see that you’re not just some random girl. That we’re serious.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but doubt still lingered. “Won’t that just make it worse?”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But I don’t care. I want to be with you. And if that means dealing with some noise, so be it.”

You were silent, his words hanging heavy in the air.

“Look,” he continued, his voice softening. “You can take all the time you need to think about it. But just know that I’m not going anywhere.”

A week later, you were scrolling through Instagram when you saw it.

A picture of the two of you at dinner, taken from a slightly awkward angle but undeniably sweet. The caption?

“Even a Bruins fan can’t resist a little blue and white 💙🤍.”

The comments were a mix of support, chirps, and Leafs-Bruins banter, but for the first time, you didn’t care.

Because when you texted him to call him out for posting it without warning, his only response was:

“Told you I’m not going anywhere.”

[helloalycia]

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

two / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when a creepy fan gets too touchy with Skye in a meet and greet, she starts to see him everywhere and you're not too sure if it's true or if she's just stressed from work.

warning/s: mentions of substance abuse, mental illness and poor mental health, stalkers and just the general gist of everything bad that happens in the film.

author's note: okay so this was long overdue but it’s finally written and will be two parts, just something that came to me a few weeks ago. Hope you like it!! it’s set around the same time in the film, before Skye’s comeback tour, but there's no smile demon, and it’s loosely based around what happens in the film but not exactly that (it will make sense when you read it lol, enjoy!)

"Do I look okay?"

I hummed, half listening to Skye, unable to tear my eyes from my laptop.

"It's not too casual? I didn't feel like dressing up today," she continued. "Especially because I'll have to dress up after and it's just too much, y'know?"

"Uh huh," I agreed, admittedly still looking at my laptop screen.

"You're not even listening."

"If I wasn't listening, I wouldn't be replying," I answered, scrolling through a spreadsheet.

There was a pause and then I let out a yelp when a cushion hit me in the face. I moved my hair from my eyes as I looked up in the direction it came from, realising Skye had thrown it. She was stood in front of a mirror, arms crossed and looking at me with disapproval.

"What was that for?" I asked with raised brows.

"You're ignoring me," she said with a frown, before dragging her feet towards me and flopping on the couch.

I sighed, looking over at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, I've just gotta sort this damn spreadsheet. One of the interns got into and saved over the top of it and now March doesn't have any content planned."

"First world problems right there," she said sarcastically.

I gave her a knowing look. "That's your social media content calendar in case you forgot. Do you want fans to come to your tour or not?"

At this, she began to chuckle, sitting up straight. "Okay, sorry. Sounds annoying. But still. Do I look okay?"

I rolled my eyes playfully before setting my laptop down on the coffee table and taking an actual look at her. She was wearing a long sleeved jumper with a pair of jeans. Unlike her usual eccentric outfits, this was toned down, though her jewellery was still more than an average person would wear, as expected from her.

"You look beautiful, Skye," I reassured her with a smile, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. "Very comfortable."

She relaxed, a smile creeping on her lips. "Thanks. That's all I wanted to hear."

I chuckled before kissing her hand and letting go. "Shouldn't you be going now anyway? Your meet and greet starts in ten."

We were at a charity event where she was holding a meet and greet and then performing for free afterwards. I was with her to support her as her girlfriend but also for work as her social media specialist.

"Yeah, I'm going," she said with a wave of her hand before standing up. "You coming?"

I shook my head as I grabbed my laptop and got comfortable on the couch again. "I've gotta sort this and do some other bits, but Tara is with your mum and Joshua to get some content for your Instagram."

Tara was a member of my team who I managed, and the one who would handle the in-person content for behind the scenes stuff, like meet and greets.

"Okay, good luck with all this," she said, motioning to my laptop, before flashing me a hopeful smile. "See you after?"

I nodded in agreement, glancing up at her. "See you then."

And with that, she left for her meet and greet whilst I got back to work.

I wasn't expecting anything to go wrong – it was a simple meet and greet, one Skye had done many times – but then I got a call from Tara.

"Hey, Tara, what's up?" I asked, balancing my phone between my shoulder and cheek as I worked at the same time.

"Hey," she said quietly and distractedly. "Erm, there's been a little incident."

I paused. "Incident? What sort of incident?"

There was some chatting in the background, but she must have moved away from it as it faded. "It's Skye. There was a fan who got a little too touchy. He started saying some weird things and wouldn't let go of her and security had to escort him out."

I furrowed my brows, concerned for Skye's wellbeing. "What? Is she okay? Is she hurt?"

"I think she's okay, but she seems shaken," Tara explained sympathetically. "I thought I'd call you to let you know. Mrs. Riley said not to but– well– it seemed like you should know, Y/N."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the mention of Elizabeth, Skye's mother and manager. I'd known Skye as a friend for a few years and we'd been dating for the past year which meant I'd experienced her mother's unconventional style of parenting firsthand. I'd never seen eye to eye with her, but acted civil as she was technically my employer. But now, as Skye's girlfriend, it only gave me more to clash with her about.

"Thanks, Tara, I appreciate you calling me," I said gratefully. "Is she still with you? Skye, I mean?"

"She finished a few minutes ago, left to go get ready for the show. She should be on her way to you now."

I exhaled deeply. "Alright. Thanks. I'll check in. Speak later."

She said her goodbyes and all I could do was wait for Skye to return. She'd been through a lot over the past year, with her recovery and recording a new album and now preparing for the tour... a lot. And she was heavily overworked and the last thing she needed was a creep making her feel uncomfortable.

Eventually I heard the door to the dressing room opening and stood up, seeing her return.

"Hey, darling," I said softly, approaching her. "Tara called and told me what happened."

She frowned, glancing at me, saying nothing. It broke my heart and I couldn't help but pull her in for a hug, wrapping my arms around her tightly. She returned the gesture, hiding her face in my shoulder.

"I'm sorry it happened," I said quietly, rubbing her back.

"He really creeped me the fuck out," she admitted, trembling.

"It's disgusting, people like that," I said with a scowl. "I'm sorry you had to experience it. But security dealt with it, right? He's gone?"

She nodded.

"Good." I pulled back to get a better read of her expression. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay to do the show? You don't have to. They'll understand."

She sighed, looking down and rubbing her forehead. "I'll be okay. I can't cancel just because of one little hiccup."

I shook my head, taking her hands and intertwining our fingers. "It wasn't a hiccup, Skye. You were assaulted. That's a lot. You can have a break if you need it."

"It's okay," she reassured, swallowing thickly and looking up to meet my gaze with her dark eyes. "I'm okay. I just needed a minute. But you're here and I'm here and everything's okay again."

"Skye–"

"Please," she cut me off abruptly, before breathing out slowly. "I don't wanna talk about it anymore."

I hesitated, not liking when she did this. She'd always push down her true feelings if it interfered with work, and it never sat right with me. But she also never listened when I pointed it out.

"Okay," I gave in reluctantly. "If you're sure you can do it."

She offered me a small smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I can."

I chewed my lip as she let go of my hands and walked further into the room, heading straight for the mini fridge. When she pulled out a bottle of water and began to chug it like it was the last drink on earth, I knew she was compartmentalising. One of her coping mechanisms after rehab was to drink water when she felt like having an actual drink, and this was no different.

But as usual, she got her way and the show went on without a hitch. Any mention of the creepy fan was no more and everybody moved on, including her.

At least, until a few days later.

We'd just gone out for some lunch together, making the most of one of the rare moments she had free, and were walking around to stretch our legs when she froze suddenly.

I stopped walking, noticing she had, and looked to her. "You good?"

She blinked, eyes fixed ahead with a sense of panic. "It's him."

I quirked a brow, looking ahead to see what she was looking at. "Him? Him who?"

Her hand on my arm tightened slightly. "From the meet and greet. The fan."

I rested my hand on hers as I looked again, eyes searching the pedestrians ahead. There was a group of people crossing the street, some others hanging by a hot dog stand and some more just idly walking by. But I couldn't see anyone who was acting suspicious or paying much attention to Skye, especially not someone who matched the description security had told me about.

"Skye, I can't see him," I said carefully, glancing back at her. "Are you sure–?"

"He's right there!" she exclaimed, stepping back shakily and tugging me with her. "He's right fucking there!"

I looked again, still not able to see him, but a few passers-by were certainly paying attention now. Worried someone may recognise her and that it could make everything worse, I grabbed her hand and began pulling her away.

"Okay, c'mon, let's go," I said quickly, leading her away from that side of the street and around the corner.

We took refuge under a flower shop's canopy and she started to glance over her shoulder, paranoid, hugging herself with discomfort. I frowned and placed a hand on her arm, rubbing it gently.

"I'll call the driver to pick us up," I said, already pulling out my phone to get her out of here.

She nodded, leaning into my side, and I hugged her with my free hand as I made the call. Once it was arranged, she exhaled shakily but didn't step back.

"You didn't see him, did you?" she asked quietly, half embarrassed and half upset.

I shook my head, glancing around once more. "No. But I believe you, Skye. If you say you saw him, you did."

She sighed, saying nothing else. I didn't let go of her until the driver arrived and took us back to her place. When I tried to speak to her about it, she didn't have much to say and it only worried me further.

—

It happened again, at the end of the week. I thought we'd heard the last of her crazed fan, but apparently not. I was working from home at my place when Skye called me in a frenzy.

"Hey, darling," I answered, smiling at the sight of her caller ID.

"I need you to come over," she said in a rushed tone, sounding distressed. "Please, Y/N."

My smile faded. "What? What's wrong, Skye?"

"I fucking saw him," she said with a broken voice.

I straightened up, pushing my laptop to the side. "What?"

"The fan, he was there, outside my building," she explained. "He's fucking following me, Y/N, I know he is! I saw him there when I came home and he's fucking there and I don't know what to do. Please, come here, I need you."

"Okay, I'm coming, don't worry," I said quickly, noticing she was getting worked up. "Did you tell reception? Security?"

"Yes, but they say they can't find him and I know what I fucking saw," she replied with a frustrated voice.

"Okay, stay in your apartment and lock the door, I'm on my way," I promised, worrying.

"Okay, please hurry," she muttered.

I quickly got ready before making a beeline straight for Skye's apartment. All I could think about was how stressed out this whole thing was making her. I believed her, I did, but why hadn't he been noticed by someone else by now?

Before I headed straight up, I spoke to the receptionist and security team downstairs in her building, but they claimed there was no sight of the fan, nor anyone who seemed suspicious. That certainly didn't help with my unease and I knew it would only worsen things with Skye.

When I headed up, I knocked first to let her know it was me before letting myself in with the spare key she gave me.

"Skye?" I called out, locking the door behind me.

"In my room!" she called back.

I took my shoes off before going to her bedroom, opening the door to see her sitting on her bed, duvet pulled around her like a safety blanket.

"Hey," I said softly, stepping in and closing the door behind me.

She opened her duvet slightly, hinting for me to get in, so I crawled in beside her and leaned back against the headboard. She attached herself to my side, holding me tight with a pout on her face, trembling ever so slightly. I held her close, kissing the top of her head.

"I spoke to security and reception on the way up," I started gently. "There's no immediate threat. You're safe here."

"I told you, I know what I saw," she muttered rigidly into my chest.

"I'm not doubting that," I spoke, choosing my words carefully. "But... are you sure it's the same guy? Not a lookalike? I know you've been stressed out and–"

Suddenly she pulled away from me, fixing me with a teary glare. "Fuck you."

Realising I'd definitely not said the right thing, I turned to face her and rested my hand on hers. "No, wait, I just wanna make sure, Skye, that's all." She sucked up a breath and wiped away a tear as she glared at the door. "Hey, I just want to make sure," I repeated, eyes flickering over her face with concern.

She swallowed hard, jaw tensed as she looked to me. "I know it's him. I couldn't forget. He's scaring me on purpose."

I nodded slowly, believing she thought she was seeing him. But I couldn't be certain he was actually there. Still, I couldn't say that without her pushing me away, so I said nothing.

"Stay tonight," she said quietly, looking down at my hand on hers and playing with it mindlessly. "Please. I don't wanna be alone."

"I will," I promised, noticing her fatigue. "Have you slept, Skye? You look tired."

She scoffed. "It's hard to sleep when I've got a fucking stalker."

"You're safe here," I reminded her, before squeezing her hand. "Have a nap, c'mon."

She sighed deeply before giving in with a nod, lying down, head in my lap, which was her signal for me to play with her hair. I pushed her blonde hair from her eyes, stroking it gently how she liked. She let out a relaxing breath as I did, eyes fluttering closed.

"I want my security increased," she spoke after a moment, half asleep. "Please."

I hummed, finding her hand under the duvet with my free one and holding it. "I'll talk to your mum about it."

She nodded and fell quiet once more, eventually dozing off. Meanwhile, I tried to think of what we could do because clearly the issue wasn't resolving itself.

—

As promised, I made it my priority to speak to her mother about her security. Elizabeth Riley wasn't my favourite person, but I had to remind myself that we still had the same thing in common: Skye's safety.

So, whilst Skye was stuck in rehearsals at her dance studio, I went on a search for her mother. Thankfully, Elizabeth never strayed too far from her daughter when it came to work, so it didn't take me long to find her chatting to her assistant, Joshua, in one of the hallways around the building.

Approaching them, I stopped between them and watched as their conversation came to a halt when they noticed me.

"Y/N, hey," Joshua greeted with a warm smile. "It's good to see you."

I returned his smile. "You too, Joshua. Sorry to interrupt. I was actually hoping I could have a quick chat with Elizabeth?"

My eyes fell to the older woman, who glanced at Joshua with a knowing nod before looking to me with a small smile.

"Sure thing, Y/N," she said nonchalantly, before adding to Joshua, "Get that merch order rectified, Joshua, thanks."

Joshua nodded obediently before flashing me another smile and leaving us be. I watched him leave and looked back to Elizabeth with a serious expression.

"What did you need?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her voice. I didn't blame her, since we rarely went out of our way to interact unless necessary.

"It's about Skye," I spoke quietly, in an urgent tone. "You know the whole thing that happened with that crazy fan at her meet and greet last week? It really freaked her out."

"Yes, I know, I was there," she said dismissively. "It was a lot, but it was taken care of. Nobody's seen the guy since. Clearly security scared him off."

I ignored her dismissal and responded, "Skye thinks she's seen him this week."

She lifted a brow, skeptical. "Thinks?"

"She's seen him," I corrected myself, realising how it sounded. "When we were out for lunch. And again, yesterday, outside of her apartment building."

She hummed, crossing her arms thoughtfully. "And did he approach her?" I shook my head, and she continued, "Did you see him?"

"Well, no," I answered, a little sheepish, "but she's really upset. And understandably so." I straightened up, meeting Elizabeth's stern gaze. "She wants more security. She's being stalked."

Definitely not reacting how I expected to, she sighed deeply like this was a minor inconvenience at most. "Y/N, if she's the only one who's seen him, she might be seeing things."

"With all due respect–"

"Skye is stressed out right now," she cut me off, adamant. "There's lots to worry about with her comeback tour. I love her, but she's got a lot to balance and that unfortunate encounter at her meet and greet may have startled her. If nobody else has seen him, you included, how likely is it that he's there?"

I pressed my lips together firmly, unsure how else to respond. Admittedly, a small part of me could see where she was coming from and I hated it.

"Her security team is great as it is," she finished decisively. "I don't think she needs more."

I swallowed thickly, feeling a little helpless, especially as I imagined telling Skye her mother's response. "She's really scared, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth motioned to me casually. "Let her know she's okay then. That's what you're there for, isn't it?"

And just like that, I was reminded why I heavily disliked her.

"She's safe, Y/N," she told me with a knowing look. "There's no stalker. My daughter is just tired. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to work."

I clenched my jaw slightly as she walked away without a care in the world. Or, at least not for her daughter.

Dreading what was to come with Skye, I tried to distract myself with my own work, finding a spare table and chair to sit at with my laptop. I wasn't sure what I was going to tell her, but it definitely couldn't be that her mum didn't believe her.

After her rehearsals were over, she found me at my laptop, still sweaty as if she'd come straight to me before showering.

"Hey," she called out, making me look up.

She sat at the edge of the table and looked down to me.

"Hey, Skye," I greeted with a smile, trying my very best to hide my nerves. "How were rehearsals?"

"Alright," she answered with a shrug, wiping her face with her sweat towel.

"And your back?" I asked considerately. "You didn't overdo it, did you?"

She rolled her eyes playfully. "No, I didn't. You don't have to ask every time you know."

I gave her a knowing look, since she definitely knew that I did. After she pushed herself too hard at rehearsals a month ago and was stuck recovering for a few days after, ice pack glued to her back, I couldn't let her do it again.

"I took it easy," she promised, pushing herself off the table.

Believing her, I nodded and let it go.

"Did you talk to my mum about my security?" she asked after a moment, and I internally panicked.

Buying myself a few more seconds, I stood up to look at her properly, though the hesitation was still there. Enough for her to notice anyway.

"She doesn't believe me," she said instantly, expression hardening. "Of course she fucking doesn't."

"No, that's not it," I found myself saying without thinking. "She just... thinks you have enough security already, that's all."

She clenched her jaw and looked away, but her frustration was still present in the way she squeezed her sweat towel into a fist.

"Skye, you're safe," I tried to reassure her, taking her hand and feeling her grip on the towel loosen. "Everybody is looking out for you. And if anyone dares get too close, they'll know about it."

She didn't speak, her head clearly running a mile a minute. She had a faraway look in her eye that concerned me, so I lowered my head to meet her gaze.

"Hey, I'll stay with you at your place," I said softly. "Until you feel at ease. I don't mind."

Her eyes flickered between mine, unreadable, then she nodded. "Alright. I should shower. See you after."

I opened my mouth to respond, but she already let go of my hand and walked away, not in the best of moods. Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair, knowing I could have handled that better.

—

"...no, I want the one with chocolate in it."

I glanced at Skye with an amused smile. "Seriously? You told me you hate the one with chocolate in it. You said it always melts on your fingers when you're eating it."

She scoffed playfully, picking up the trail mix packet from the shelf. "Yeah, but the two minutes where it doesn't melt is my favourite."

I sighed as I grabbed the one without chocolate in it. "Yeah, and then you'll just take mine and I'll be left with the melted one."

"What's your point?"

I quirked a brow as she stared at me, waiting for an expiation. Letting out a quiet laugh, I rolled my eyes and nudged her slightly before taking the trail mix from her hand.

"Fine, idiot, let's pay," I said, realising some things just wouldn't change with Skye. And as much as I pretended to hate it, I didn't.

She grinned with satisfaction before the two of us went to the front of the convenience store, joining the short queue at the till.

"Wanna walk back to your place or call the driver?" I asked Skye as we stepped forward.

She glanced outside the shop window, probably looking at the weather. "It's not too bad out. Let's walk."

I hummed in agreement, patiently waiting until we reached the front of the queue. As I was paying for the few bits we picked up, including the trail mix I would definitely not get to eat, Skye was already walking outside to wait for me, lingering.

"Oh, can I get this gum too, sorry?" I said quickly, before the order went through, taking some gum off the display stand.

The cashier nodded and was putting it through the till when we both heard shouting from outside the shop. I furrowed my brows, looking out the window, only to widen my eyes when I realised it was Skye. She looked like she was yelling at someone in the distance, but I couldn't be sure.

"Shit," I muttered to myself, before tapping my card quickly, paying.

"Do you want your rec–"

"No, it's fine, thanks," I said quickly, grabbing the bag before almost tripping over my own feet as I left the store.

"...I'll call the police, you psycho!" Skye was shouting across the street, earning judgemental looks off several bystanders.

"Skye!" I exclaimed, standing in front of her and holding her shoulders to get her attention. "What are you doing?"

She was trembling as she glared ahead, and I tried to follow her stare to see who she was yelling at, but other than the confused pedestrians staring at us, there was nobody.

"Hey, what?" I asked worriedly, looking back to her and searching her watery gaze.

Her eyes met mine, terrified. "It's fucking him."

I swallowed thickly, realising she was still talking about this stalker who only she ever seemed to see.

"I fucking saw him," she repeated, looking across the street again.

I frowned, rubbing her arms gently before feeling eyes on us. People were starting to put two and two together, no doubt recognising Skye, so I quickly laced our fingers together and led her away.

"C'mon, let's get you home," I told her calmly, but inside I was extremely concerned for her wellbeing.

She didn't speak, though her eyes were darting around, paranoid. When we reached her apartment building, I gave a heads up to the security there before leading her up to her apartment and settling on the couch with her.

She was leaning on my shoulder for comfort, my arm wrapped around her as I tried to find the right words. But there was no way to say it without making her feel like I was ignoring her.

"Skye," I started gently, softly. "Do you think that, maybe, you might be imagining this fan?"

She tensed up before pulling back slightly, fixing me with a glare. "You think I'm crazy?"

I widened my eyes slightly. "No, no, not at all! But I just–" I paused, trying to express my thoughts better without upsetting her further. "I haven't seen him. Nobody has, except you. And it was a scary thing what happened at the meet and greet–"

"You weren't even fucking there," she cut me off with a scowl, hurt in her expression as she stood up.

"I know," I said with a sigh, before standing up too. "I just mean, you've been working very hard and not getting enough rest and maybe you're–"

"Fuck you," she interrupted, gaze running over me with irritation. "You don't believe me."

I frowned. "Skye–"

"No," she snapped. "You think I'm fucking hallucinating!"

I winced at her words. "That's not–"

"Get out," she decided, crossing her arms sternly.

I stepped forward in an attempt to make amends. "Skye–"

"Now!" she shouted.

Swallowing hard, I let out a disappointed sigh. This was the exact opposite of what I wanted to happen. Especially because she looked so hurt and betrayed and I'd never been on the receiving end of that before, not from her.

"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I'm just worried."

"About the wrong thing," she retorted, avoiding looking at me.

I closed my eyes, internally kicking myself, before reluctantly leaving her apartment.

[hoffmansgirl]

omg girl what is happening with nicholas right now ?? i’ve heard so much about NDAs and whatnot and i have no idea where to start to unpack this 😭

first off, check out this post from @cranberrydietcoke since we've had a real long convo here about this whole situation.

now, babe...where do i start...

there's this bald guy on tiktok (i won't tell you the username because i have him blocked — he's just so annoying) that started a whole nicholas hate train. apparently, a lot of girls have been reaching out to him saying nicholas was texting them in november/this month (there is no proof whatsoever — just screenshots with no dates that can easily be manipulated or can be from any time tbh).

this one girl, i think julia was her name, has started posting tiktoks related to nicholas — tbh her whole personality is that he has been "allegedly" texting her. she said that nicholas has been talking about victoria, but for "legal reasons" she doesn't want to show screenshots. so basically she just started a whole god damn hate train to back off when she got too much attention — sorry shawty, that's NOT how it works.

the bald tiktok guy has made a million tiktok's about nicholas. to me? he's literally obsessed. he has been talking about him non stop, saying there's been a lot of girls reaching out and that he has a lot of "proof" of nac cheating on victoria, but he doesn't want to talk about his sources. so there's basically no proof — only the screenshots, that, as i mentioned, could so easily be manipulated.

also, when it comes to that bald guy — i heard that he was a nicholas fan a month ago or so, i don't know if that's true tho.

julia has claimed that nicholas wanted to fly her out to usa so that they could be together. which doesn't really make any sense, but anyway. 🤫

also there's been speculations going around that nicholas made victoria sign an NDA so that she can't talk about their relationship or him now or if they break up. victoria and her friends then started replying to comments on twitter saying that none of this is true. her annoyance is so valid because why do random people online get their noses in THEIR relationship?

nicholas is rich, famous and hot so if he didn't want vicky here — she WOULDN'T BE HERE. people need to start using their brains, simple as that. everyone tries to paint him as a bad guy for some weird reason.

nicholas' team needs to walk in because this whole thing isn't making his reputation any better 😭

also a reminder that nicholas' relationship is none of our business even though we are allowed to dislike his gf.

i'd love to hear your opinions because this whole thing is so weird to me 😭 i hope i explained it well enough 4 u

[n0tamused]

Hello, can I ask you about Wuwa men with a reader similar to Acheron from HSR? I mean also suffering from such a blessing, loss of taste, colors and memory 🥹

A/n: Sorry for the small wait! I do hope you enjoy this mixed bag of everything lol, I was a bit around the place and yapping. I haven't been able to play WuWa since this summer due to storage problems so these were written with the knowledge I have from the older versions lol.

Contents: Jiyan/Aalto/Xiangli Yao/Mortefi/Calcharo x GN!Reader(separate) that is like Acheron, fluff, comfort, a bit of angst, not proof-read, some of these are shorter than the others as I wasn't feeling particularly motivated for them all equally, sorry

Ko-fi

Jiyan

-It does not take too long for the General of the Midnight Rangers to catch on to your odd persona, “odd” is not the word he’d use, but with the lack of a proper terminology to describe his feeling with the initial encounter he has not much choice but to use it

-He is wary of you, but not unkind, as he usually is with newcomers that seemingly do not visibly come in blazing and wishing to oppose him and all he stands for

-There is a sense of understanding about him when it comes to you, he can practically sense the emptiness that surrounds you and that deep look in your eyes tells him that there is much more to you, something both dangerous and intriguing. Some time may pass before it becomes a routine of sorts to converse with you on a regular basis, and when it also becomes a habit for you despite your fading memory.

-Jiyan never held your weak memory against you, it was one of the things that pointed to something else that he wished to uncover through your blossoming relationship. Even if that thing stood alone as a characteristic of your, he was already enraptured by you, he wanted to help you where he could

-In private and with intimate relationships, Jiyan can be a man of fewer words than when he is on the battlefield with so many eyes on him. Being General means being a performer to a certain extent as well, but with you he can just leave that stage and be himself

-With someone who has lost the sense of taste and the eye for color he tends to hold onto some thread of hope that you’ll be cured of it, be it by his hand or someone else’s. He watches your movements and your mannerisms for any sign of improvement and gets rather excited if he ever spots some, even if it may not be a really big deal to you or anyone else. 

-Jiyan doesn’t share the same condition as you, but he understands the feeling of losing something and someone. He knows what it feels like to be adrift without a clear direction. So, he might silently mourn the fact that you can no longer enjoy the small things like colors, tastes, or memories, because he’s had his own form of loss and he felt the pain on his own skin. What he can do is try and dull any pain you might feel, or distract you from it, although he genuinely hopes you are not in pain at all.

-While you may forget past conversations  or dates, forgetting such things for Jiyan is a scarce event. He holds every memory close to him,  especially if he finds himself far away from you, on distant battlefields where he can only hope you haven’t forgotten about him. But there is also a poetic way to his thinking when it comes to this - if you do, in fact, forget him, he can always start again. He’d never tire, and he’d keep doing it all as long as you’d let him. 

-He does leave notes for you around the house that can be quite detailed depending on the context, hoping to help you with the daily routine even while he is away from you. 

-Though your memories are gone or fading and your senses have all but dulled, Jiyan would help you rediscover joy in small, often overlooked things. While you can't taste food anymore, he might make it a habit to cook you a meal, hoping that somehow you can still feel the texture or the warmth of the food, and there’s of course the health aspect to it too. And while you can't see colors, he might describe the world in such detail that you feel as though you're experiencing it through his eyes. He also helps you with your outfits if you ask him to! He may not be some fashionista but he can be of good help. In winter he does tend to mother you a bit, telling you to always dress warmly even if you may not feel as cold.

-If he ever came to see you use your “blessing” in combat, he’d be shocked, then in cautious awe. If anyone understands that great power comes with a great cost - it is him.

-You may hold power to move mountains, but Jiyan would always be there to jump in first and protect you.

Aalto

-Aalto would have come to know you through all the various branches of information he perches on, he knew you before had met you in person, but that does not erase his unending curiosity and skepticism

-He is tactical yet unassuming in his approach to you, stepping carefully to see where you stand with him. He is quick to adjust if need be, as in the end, the last thing he needs to happen is you marking him as your enemy and possibly wiping the floor with him

-As mentioned, he does approach you with a certain curiosity, he is guarded and cautious. He has heard and read so much about you but to him this concept of being “blessed” in such a way by an entity unheard of in the whole world is strange at best. There was so much yet so little, at times he was unsure what to think

-Aalto is a whimsical fellow, as we all know, but that is a part of his own public persona. No one would really suspect such a guy of any ulterior motive, and it is a character that has bought him a way into so many places

-It comes as a bit of a surprise to him when he meets you next time and you don’t seem to remember him or parts of your prior conversation. He is questioning whether this is done on purpose to send him a signal you are not interested, but soon he does realize that it is really something serious and not done of your own violation

-Aalto is used to navigating difficult situations with tactical precision, and he prides himself on his ability to control and influence outcomes. However, when faced with someone like you- someone whose condition is so profound and deeply entrenched- he might feel a sense of helplessness. His usual methods of fixing things or controlling situations wouldn’t work on you. He might even feel frustrated by his inability to do anything tangible to heal or help you reclaim you’ve already lost

-But with that being said, Aalto would definitely try and help you in the later stages of your relationship to look for some cure, or at least something to lessen this curse. Even at the start he may point to some cures you can try out. It is not an easy thing to live with and it certainly is not comfortable either. He may not completely understand it, even with the abundance of information he has, it is still unknown territory, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. He never appears too stoic however, and likes to keep a lighthearted tone around you in hopes that at least his jokes and laid back demeanor can keep you calm and entertained, even if for a while, even if you’ll forget eventually

-Aalto would want to bring you “back to life” in some way, but his methods might be a bit unconventional and rather bold when it comes to it. Rather than using gentle persuasion like Jiyan, Aalto might  try pushing you more directly, testing your limits, teasing, and seeing how far he can go to provoke a reaction.  He may put salt instead of sugar in your food and hope you notice and scold him for it.

-This could come across as both intense and a bit intrusive at times, like a water that’s just about to burst with a boil, but it’s never done out of malice. He’d never do something that would cause you harm. He’d  just want to know if there’s any spark left in you, any piece of yourself that could be awakened, and if there’s even a small sand-sized spark, he is more than willing to put all his efforts out to make it shine brighter

-While initially, Aalto might be driven by curiosity and perhaps a need for control, over time he might develop a deeper, more nuanced understanding of your condition. He would begin to realize that there’s no quick fix, no immediate solution or cure for you, and that the journey to healing is one that requires time and patience. This does make him soften, in a rather sad way in which he has to eventually accept this no matter how much he wants to keep fighting for you

-But he is more than willing to be patient, holding that hope at the back of his mind instead of making it his very sole goal. He understands that watching him jump from place to place can also be exhausting for you to see.

-In terms of your memory loss Aalto would take lots of pictures, although sadly not many would include him due to his work, but there would be his handwriting on the back of printed pictures and silly doodles as well, some also done by Encore who has grown quite fond of you

-He leaves flowers for you. After a time he also bought you a plastic potted plant, just so you can have something that lasts, as the last time he bought you a real potted plant it didn’t really live long

-He jokes about it, but he never took it to heart lol he is chill

Mortefi

-It is a bit of a lucky strike of fate that brought you two to meet, considering Mortefi doesn’t exactly go out of his way to meet new people. It would probably be Baizhi or some other that brings you to the Academy, and that is when he’d first get a sense of something different, that void that followed you like a shadow

-It is unclear to him whether this is something he is imagining or if it was something real, but as it is not exactly his field of research, he does not pursue his twinge of intrigue from there

-That is until Baizhi brings it up in conversation at a later date, something about this anomaly in your being, something that went beyond simple ailment of health. It puzzled her. And that conversation with Baizhi did leave a lasting taste in his mouth for days to come, even if Baizhi did not reveal anything confidential to him or anything concrete. 

-When he meets you eye to eye he does question you a little bit about what you’re doing at the Academy again, and a conversion flows from there on out as you wait for Baizhi to come and check on you again. He wasn’t the warmest of people to converse with, but he was cordial and didn’t leave you alone in the middle of the Academy. He could tell from your mannerisms and from what you told him in the conversation that you didn’t exactly.. know what’s going on, and by that he also figured out your memory wasn’t the strongest. You made mention of getting a message from Baizhi that very morning, a reminder for you to come in, and he may have snuck a peak at your phone and saw there was more than one reminder before that one. It was a brief glance

-After your checkup, he does coincidentally meet you in the halls again and asks you about it, seemingly a little more softer but still blunt and hardy on the outside 

-Mortefi wouldn’t be the type to offer overly emotional comfort. His understanding of loss or suffering would be intellectual rather than empathetic. He has lost a lot in his life as well, but he has always been forced to suppress his feelings, which led to outbursts somewhere later down the line.  However, his form of sympathy wouldn’t  be wholly detached but rather perceptive. He would sense that your condition is more than just a physical or psychological issue- it’s a fundamental disconnect from the world and your own spirit

- He might not express his sympathy outwardly, but there would be moments when his cold demeanor falters, and he would quietly acknowledge the sadness of your condition, even if he doesn’t directly verbalize it. He grows fond of you, and he takes a while to realize it too. He doesn’t want to believe it at first either - it is simply not logical to him, it doesn’t make sense, and intimate relationships always came hard to him anyway

-Mortefi would offer to make something for you that would help you with remembering things, he would even try to craft a special pair of glasses that would allow you to see colors, a special candy that would allow you to taste certain things..etc. He would try whatever his imagination would bring up, and it wouldn’t be rare to catch him staying up at night, trying to realize this idea into reality

-The loss of memory might fascinate Mortefi the most. He would be intrigued by how a person can live without the things that form their identity. If you think about it, everyone is just a well of memories which form not only their person, but their approach to the world around them. That includes Mortefi as well.  If you don’t remember your past, it could mean you’re an empty vessel- a blank slate and therefore easily impressionable, in some way or another. He sees this as risky, so Mortefi may become rather easily irritated, or even anxious in some way, if you stop responding to his messages or if he hasn’t seen you in some time. 

-Could be that you just forgot to text him… but that doesn’t stop him from worrying 

-He may get a little irritated at you forgetting certain things or being late to appointments and such, but he understands this isn't done by your own choosing, so his anger is redirected at things that actually deserve his anger

Xiangli Yao

-Sweet Xiangli Yao, although when he meets you, and you're no more than another stranger to him, he still feels a sense of empathy for you. However threatening and dark that sense of emptiness that surrounds you is, it is just that which draws him in. Could he make it disappear? 

-Xiangli Yao’s first reaction would be one of deep empathy. He is someone who feels others' pain deeply and would immediately recognize the gravity of your suffering. The loss of your senses and memory would weigh heavily on him.

-Of course, at the start he does not know all the details of you situation, he is quite hopeful and eager to help in whatever way he can, so when he finds out this was put upon you by a power higher even than of the sentinel, it is safe to say he feels a bit hopeless. His mind comes at a stop, like rusted cogwheels that he desperately tries to get moving again. Creaks and squeaks are all he gets in return for a while

- His first instinct would be to reach out to you, not just to understand your condition but also to offer support, even if he doesn't know how to fix things right away

-Unlike other people who might approach your condition with curiosity or detachment to satisfy their own curiosity, Xiangli Yao would actively search for ways to help you heal or regain some semblance of the things you've lost. He would likely spend time learning about your condition, asking you about how you feel or what you remember, even if your memory doesn’t work the same way. His compassionate nature would drive him to research ways to restore or help you find balance in a world without your senses and memories

-Given his ability to read people and understand emotions on a deeper level, and with him being made of a rather soft and nurturing nature, Xiangli Yao would be sensitive to how you’re feeling. He’d be able to pick up small cues and mannerisms you may display, reading you like an open book

-Even if you don't express your emotions outwardly due to your condition, he would be able to sense the subtle cues - whether it’s the way you carry yourself or even your tone of voice when you speak. This is even more amplified the more time you spend together with each other. In either case, Xiangli Yao would adapt his approach accordingly, offering emotional support without pushing you to confront anything you're not ready for 

-Xiangli Yao's sense of duty and his protective nature would kick in when he realizes the extent of your condition. He would be willing to make sacrifices to help you - whether it’s giving up his time, his resources, or even putting himself in danger to find a cure for you. You may be able to protect yourself, but if he can avoid putting you in a situation where you're forced to do so, he'd do just that. He'd rather be the one fighting than let you fight 

-His deep belief in looking out for others, especially those who are vulnerable or hurting, would mean that he would go to great lengths to make sure you’re taken care of, even if it means putting his own needs aside

-Xiangli Yao’s care for you is gentle and affectionate in subtle yet really warm ways, but he would respect your boundaries. He wouldn’t overwhelm you with his affections, but he would express his care in small, meaningful gestures like sending you sweet messages through the little robot he makes for you, and in the same manner he’d send you voice messages too. Similarly to Jiyan he might take to a habit of leaving notes around the house and little treats as well. Even if you can’t taste them, he hopes you’ve enjoyed the little game of hunt for them

-If you'd allow him, he'd hold your hand as you walk around as he tells you about streets you've passed through before if you've forgotten. He'd quietly remind you of the names of others if you need the help and he'd never put you in a situation that would be embarrassing for you, that's the last thing he wants you to feel, especially since this curse is not something you would've wished for if it was up to you. Sure, it gives you great power, but at what cost..? Is it really worth it?

Calcharo

-When first learning of your suffering, he might simply nod, his face calm but with a subtle furrow in his brow. He wouldn’t rush to comfort you or find out more immediately, but instead, he would want to assess whether your condition is something that can be cured or if it's just part of who you are now, or if it something that threatens his work. His mind would be working quickly, formulating potential ways to help, but he would remain quiet, choosing his words carefully

-Despite his stoic nature, Calcharo would feel a strong sense of responsibility toward you, especially if he perceives you as vulnerable. He might not openly show his concern, but he would take steps to ensure that you are protected and taken care of

-Calcharo's emotional distance doesn't mean he’s cold or indifferent to your suffering. He’s simply more reserved and slow to let his guard down. However, as he sees your struggle, a quiet protectiveness would begin to form. He is not emotionless, he’s just buried his hard deep into his duty and deeper still

- He would keep his distance in terms of expressing emotions, but he would become more protective of you, watching your movements, ensuring that you don’t push yourself too far, and subtly stepping in when you need help. He does have eyes and ears everywhere, and may give some of them the task of keeping an eye out for you if he is in a situation where he can’t lend you his supports, due to his missions and duty

-While he may understand quite early on that the power you possess may go over the limit of his own imagination, he would step in to take over instead, telling you to go and wait for him elsewhere. He is rather gruff yet coldly calm in his command to you, he does not play around with work, and especially when it comes to you

-Seeing as he has a..demon of his own, he would come to compare your two conditions over time and correlate them as well, growing a greater understanding of you even if the two conditions don’t equal one another. He can only use his own knowledge to try and understand your experience, and that is the only way he knows

-As mentioned, Calcharo is quite stumped emotionally, he has a hard time expressing himself, so vocally you shouldn’t expect much from him, but if you need any work done, he is your guy

-If he doesn’t know how to do xyz, he most definitely knows another guy that does! Must be magic/j. That being said,his love language is definitely acts of service 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[twilight-orchid]

The Genesis of Evolution - Jason Todd x Reader part 1/?

Words: 7’000

Warning!!! Content warnings for this series will include mental illness, reference to past trauma, smoking, cursing, drinking, kidnapping, drugging, torture, expirimentation, murder, and gore. If you're under 18 or don't like dark stories I'd sit this one out. Also there's a lot you have to take as fact for yourself in regards to past experiences for the story to work, enough that y/n is almost their own OC, but I still thought most people would prefer to read it in an x reader format. So, sorry about that! However, the reader is still gender neutral.

Also, writing like this is a newer hobby for me so I have no clue how fast I'll get parts out or even how long it'll be. Kinda just rolling with it rn, but I’ll try to be fast. I REALLY was not expecting this part to be 7,000 words, I hope it's not boring!

Overview: You had always struggled with mental illness, and when you saw an opportunity for experimental therapy promising positive results, you want to jump on it. Your boyfriend of several years, Jason Todd, doesn’t like it from the get go. But unfortunately the truth is deeper and darker than either of you ever expected or dared imagine.

Jason stands atop a neighboring apartment building after patrol, muscles aching from the fights of that night and the several days prior with sweat clinging to his skin and suit. He has his helmet slid up enough to reveal his lips, taking a long drag of a cigarette in an attempt to quell the shaking in his hands and pounding heart. He closes his eyes as the smoke fills his lungs, listening to the music of the city that was Gotham. Even at 3 AM, it was a conglomeration of honking cars, the yelling voices of civilians, the squealing of police and ambulance sirens, and the never-ending cooing of pigeons that hung around the apartment. It was familiar, grounding, and he was thankful for the distraction.

This had been a problem for months. He knew he needed to go home. He needed to change, shower, tend to the gash on his side, rest, and the dog needed to be taken care of too. He had to be at the garage in the morning and his commute bike was parked out front of the complex. It didn't make sense to go out of his way to a safe house. But fuck, he didn't want to step foot in that apartment.

Being home had been difficult since you went missing 3 months ago. The space was full of pieces of you; photos, trinkets, decor, even the damn dish set you two bought together last year made him think of you. He felt your absence in every square inch, every corner. Though he could easily fill the bed if he sprawled out on it, without the sound of your sleep and your weight at his side it felt too big, too empty.

“Dammnit.” He muttered, letting the nicotine numb his frayed mind and nerves. It was like you dropped off the face of the earth. He looked everywhere, but you were gone like sand slipping through his fingers in the desert wind. He had always sworn to protect you, but he failed you, like he should have guessed he would. He could still remember the excitement in your expression as you ran up to him about 5 months ago while he was making dinner in the kitchen.

You had an ad for Biolite Psychiatric Hospital on your phone, which you explained to him was a nonprofit Metropolis-based psych ward that was looking for volunteers for its experimental hypnotherapy research. Patients who had been accepted and come out of the program gave the facility great reviews, and spoke highly of both the hypnotherapy and Biolite’s specialized EMDR therapy. However, something about it bothered Jason.

☆☆☆

“Babe.” He said softly, taking your phone and placing it on the counter. He lowered the heat on the stove to give you a bit more time to talk, then gently layed his hands on your shoulders.

“You don't need to go off to some in-patient facility and do bullshit untested therapies alright? You're perfect just how you are.” He didn't miss the irritation that crossed your features but he couldn't help it. He liked you here at his side, not an hour drive away in Superman’s territory where he couldn't watch you. His green eyes were pleading as they look down at you, begging you not to fight him. Luck was not on his side that day, however.

“I’m a mess, Jason. We both know that. I can barely leave the house without my anxiety becoming crippling, I have almost no control of my mood swings, I have panic attacks at work, I can’t focus, I'm just tired of it. Aren't you?”

“I love you how you are, no matter what.” He responded automatically, not needing to think about it but meaning it with every fiber of his being all the same.

“But wouldn't you prefer to love me without needing to drop everything to help me when I have an episode? Holding me when I sob over something I created in my head or walk on eggshells when I'm irritable and snapping at you? Go on patrol without worrying what my mental state is like at home? I'm a fucking nightmare, Jay!”

“First of all, you're not a nightmare. Loving you is a privilege I'm thankful for. Second, may I remind you, you ain't talkin to the most stable person himself. I don’t see you holdin me to these standards you set for yourself for ‘ease of interaction’. And that’s not what this relationship is about baby.” He said with a strained smile. “Third, I don't get tired of it. I'm glad to be someone you trust, happy that I can help you.” You didn't meet his eyes, and he could tell you were still not convinced. Damn.

“We’re in a relationship, we’re supposed to be partners. You shouldn't have to baby me and my emotions as much as you do.” You argued stubbornly, your eyes growing glossy.

“Hey, don't put words in my mouth.” He said sternly, his thumbs drawing circles into your shoulders where he held you. “You're not a baby. You're not a burden, you're not pathetic, you're not a bad person or a bad partner or whatever you're telling yourself that I know you've told yourself in the past. None of its true. What is true is that I love you, exactly how you are.” Tears finally tip over your cheeks and he lifts a hand to your face, touch feather-light as he wiped them away.

“I appreciate you, and thank you for saying that, but… I want to do this. For me. I'm tired of feeling like this. If there's a chance to overcome my issues and just exist contentedly… or even just find some level of peace beyond what I have now, I want to pursue it. Their slogan is that you'll ‘leave a better version of you’. I need that Jay.” Your glimmering eyes meet his, silently begging him to understand. And while he didn't like it, he did get it. He really did. He sighs, his grip dropping back to hold your arms.

“Then… let me look into it a little bit first. Hardly a corporation in Metropolis Luthor hasn't dipped his dick in, lemme make sure they're clean. Please?” You nodded immediately, knowing that was a smart idea and wanting to ease his mind.

“Of course. Thank you Jay.” You gently broke free of his grip to wrap your arms around him. You held him tight and buried your head into his chest, the steady pounding of his heart a blanket of familiarity. “You’re always looking out for me.” You mumbled. He wrapped his arms around you in return, laying a kiss on your head.

“I’ll always be here for you baby.”

☆☆☆

The memory stings like acid to a fresh wound and he pushes it away, taking another drag of his cigarette. He watched the smoke curl around his head, and for the millionth time tried to imagine what happened to you.

He'd looked into Biolite Psychiatric Holdings, a nonprofit enterprise owned by Metropolis philanthropist, billionaire, and apparent altruist Howard Miller. He opened Biolite Psychiatric Hospital in 2021 and, while it started out as a regular psychiatric hospital, it's doctors began working on specialized therapies shortly after opening, gaining them quite the reputation rather quickly. Miller gained his fortune through his pharmaceutical and research company, Biolite Labs, which had made several breakthroughs in the medical field since it's founding in 2011. It seemed squeaky clean, and people who went through the therapy gave it outstandingly positive reviews. He even checked Miller as much as he could and saw no red flags, beyond what he expected to find in a billionaire’s dirty laundry. All in all, a good company doing good work.

He didn't know why he felt reluctant to share his findings with you, or rather the lack thereof. He chalked it up to being overprotective again, something he'd promised you he'd work on reigning in. This was a reputable facility, where you'd be under 24/7 surveillance. Hell, you'd probably be safer there than in the apartment.

Despite this, he remembered how even your excitement to his findings didn't lift the weight in his chest. He hid it behind a smile though, and you didn't seem to pick up on it. You called their number that afternoon, and were set up for an evaluation later that week. He considered asking you not to go, forgetting this mess, ordering takeout, and watching movies tangled in each other's arms all night instead. But he knew that wouldn't solve anything, and he didn't want you to think he didn't support you. He wanted to, he really did, but the thought of you being gone for “an undisclosed and variable amount of time” doing experimental treatments really rubbed him the wrong way. However, he'd kept his mouth shut as this was the most lively he'd seen you in a while. You really thought going there would make you better, and you really wanted that for yourself, so damnit if he didn't want it too.

You'd returned from that meeting hopeful and excited, gushing about the state-of-the-art facility and how kind the staff was. They had said you were exactly the kind of person they were looking for and they believed they could help you. To his dismay, they also already had a bed available. Thus, a few days later he was helping lug your bags into your car. You'd packed about a week's worth of clothes, some books, a notebook, a sketchpad, approved toiletries, and soon were on your way to Metropolis.

Jason drove, he'd requested to come with you wanting to see you off and look at the building himself. He kept a hand on your thigh as he drove, thumb rubbing circles absentmindedly. He tried to keep his face neutral as you rambled about what they'd told you at the eval for the hundredth time. He wanted to be supportive, but he was struggling to hide the stress that was overcoming him. He attributed it to separation anxiety, not wanting to be apart from you for long.

"…they said they only medicate enough to help you function. The majority of the work is in therapy and coping skills. They have an experimental form of hypnotherapy, which is what the ad was for, but they also do specialized EMDR therapy…” You stop talking, noting the crease in his brow. “Jason.” His brows shoot up, eyes darting to you for a moment like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar before returning to the road.

“Yeah babe?” He asked, feigning nonchalance.

“I’m gonna be fine.” You assured softly, placing your hand over his where it lay on your knee. “You yourself said they were safe, the facility was really fancy when I did my intake, the staff was super nice, this is our chance for a fresh start.” He nodded and forced a smile on his face.

“I know babe. Just gonna miss ya is all.” You gave him a sad smile, squeezing his hand.

“I'll miss you too. But they said we're allowed to make calls before lights out. I promise I'll call every night.”

After 2 months Jason once got a late call, around 9:00. He'd been pacing in the apartment when 8:30 passed, then 8:45, each minute dragging like hours. Logically, he knew nothing had happened as he was your emergency contact. If you were hurt, they'd call him. But the feeling of dread he'd felt before you left had only compounded and intensified as time had gone on. The more nights he went to bed alone, the more he wondered if he made a mistake in not putting up more of a fight in letting you go. Even if it was helpful, it was experimental therapy. What if it did more harm than good long term? He picked up the phone the moment the hospital number popped up, his heart frozen in his chest as he dispelled his thoughts.

And you had. Every night around 8:30 he got a call from their landline. You’d talk about your days, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy despite the situation. From what you told Jason, at first it had seemed like regular psych ward stuff. Basic CBT and DBT with med management. After about a month you began EDMR therapy with the specific combination of medication and talk therapy that they had become famous for. While that was helpful, it was after a month and a half when they introduced the hypnotherapy that you told him you were really seeing a difference. You said you walked out of the first session feeling lighter than you had in years. They would utilize a mixture of the two, desensitizing you to a memory then bringing forth the root of the associated behavior and thought patterns through the subconscious.

“Hello?”

“Hey, hun. I'm sorry it's late. I had a really weird therapy session so they were checking me out and asking me follow-up questions.” Relief floods him like water from a spout as his shoulders sink when he hears your voice and not that of an employee. However, you sound slow and tired, your voice low and rumbling.

“It's alright, you know me, not like it’s my bed time. What was weird, you okay?” He asked as he finally sat on the sofa, body exhausted now that he had some semblance of relief.

“Yeah, I just don't remember the hypnotherapy, or much of the EMDR if I'm going to be honest.” Jason furrowed his brow. He’d done some research into both methods once you’d left for the therapy, wanting to be informed about what you were doing. And forgetting the session was abnormal on both fronts.

“None of it?” He clarified, sitting up.

“Nope, not at all. The doctor said it was a normal one, like all the others, but I just can't recall it. And EMDR I remember to a point but then it fades, kinda like recalling a dream.” Jason's brows furrowed.

“That’s weird.” He mumbled, not liking what he was hearing.

“I know, but I guess as long as the subconscious is getting worked on right?” He didn't respond for a moment, a scowl that would make Batman jealous carved into his face.

“They say if the memory loss is related to the experimental therapy they’re doing? Were they worried when they checked you out?” He asks finally, wanting to gather information without throwing up your defenses thinking he looking for something negative to latch onto.

“They said it’s abnormal but it happens sometimes. The head psychiatrist was fascinated by me, something about memory retention in limbic distress.” He furrowed his brow, lips hardening into a scowl.

“Did they say anything else?”

“I don't know, I think I'm just tired. I'm gonna go lay down, they said that's most important. I love you, Jay. I'll talk to you tomorrow.” You mumbled, indeed sounding exhausted. He cursed internally, he wouldn’t get anything else out of you.

“Alright, love you more, babe. Get some rest.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a while after the line went dead. That bothered him. Memory issues had plagued you in the past due to your psych stuff, but full-blown amnesia? Something wasn't right. But there was nothing he could do. You were there voluntarily, as much as he detested it.

The following days call you sounded better, but not normal. The sluggish fatigue in your voice that had been present the night before was replaced with energy and a chipperness that wasn't quite like you.

“I feel great. Honestly, the best I’ve felt in a long time. The therapy is really working, I feel like a better version of me.” Jason’s brows furrow. That's Biolite’s slogan you'd said, ‘A Better Version of You’. You repeated it enthusiastically but almost… robotically.

“Baby… you feeling okay? You don't sound… like yourself.” He asked.

“I feel great. I'm just eager to return home to you and Bandit as a better version of me.” Jason swallows heavily at your melodic tone but nods.

“Yeah babe, Bandit is missing you awful. You're not here to let him sneak up on the bed.” Jason muttered eyeing your 2-year-old German Shepard that was curled up on a dog bed by the couch. “And I’m missing you like crazy too.” He says softly.

“Let him up one night, for me. I’ll see you both soon. I love and miss you more than anything.” You finally sounded a bit more like yourself, and he closed his eyes, savoring the sound. “It's about to be lights out, I have to go. Sleep well.”

“Alright babe, get some rest and kick some ass in therapy tomorrow. I love you too, goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He'd tossed his phone on the sofa with a sigh and got up to feed Bandit. He cleaned his guns, ate, and suited up before going on patrol. Your strange voice lingered in his mind, and it was odd, but maybe you were just going stir crazy from being in a psych ward for 2 months. He shook off the concern, there was nothing he could do about it now. However, he had no clue that would be the last call he'd get from you.

☆☆☆

He sighed as he he took a final hit of his cigarette then tossed it on the ground, crushing the embers beneath his boot along with the guilt and memories of those last few calls. He'd procrastinated long enough. He needed to take care of Bandit and change, even if he stayed at a safehouse again tonight. He clicked his helmet back in place before vaulting from the neighboring building to your apartment rooftop. He scaled the side, the gash in his torso stinging and oozing fresh blood but he gave it no mind, easily slipping through the unlocked window and ducking inside.

Bandit was at Jason's feet the moment he was in the apartment, tail wagging as he whimpered excitedly.

“Hey buddy.” He groaned as he kneeled, body protesting the movement, taking off his helmet and tossing it on the sofa while he petted and patted the dog. He licked his master's face, tongue hanging happily out of his mouth. Jason took a moment to look up, eyes scanning the apartment, but Bandit would have let him know if there was an intruder. No, as dense as it was, he was looking for you, as if waiting you you to pad sleepily out of the kitchen or bedroom like nothing had ever happened. Foolish fantasy, he chided himself.

“Alright buddy, come on.” He gets to his feet and heads to the kitchen, grabbing the bag of dog food from the cabinet and feeding the dog before walking into the dark, empty bedroom, and changing out of his suit. Each movement was methodical and intentional, and once he was down to his boxers he could see just how much blood was gushing down his side. It was a superficial wound, but he kept irritating it with his movements.

“Shit.” He muttered, examining the hole in his armor that would need to be patched before hiding his suit away in the secret compartment tucked into the corner of their closet. As he was about to head to the bathroom his comm rang. Oracle. He grabbed the phone and answered as he came to stop before the bathroom mirror and grabbed his first-aid kit from under the sink.

“Hey Babs.” He greeted casually, holding the phone with his shoulder to free up his hands.

“Hey Jason. You doing okay?” He clenched his jaw, a brief flare of fire licking his nerves. He knew the whole family was just waiting for him to lose it, to fall back into darkness in his quest to find you. But he wouldn't. He couldn't. He knew that was the last thing you would want for him.

“Hangin in there. Taking one day at a time, focusing on the things I can control. You know, the bullshit everyone preaches.” Barbara sighs on the other end of the line and Jason barely registers the sting as he squeezes a bottle of alcohol directly on his wound, cleaning the gash.

“I’m sorry, but hopefully I finally have something for you.” He froze, hope igniting like a flame. He forces his heart to calm and his voice to remain steady,

“About y/n?” He asked hesitantly, not wanting to be disappointed if that's not what she meant. He pats the wound dry, his lip twitching from the sting.

“I think so. I've been keeping an eye on Biolite and Howard Miller since we lost track of y/n, and Miller just messed up. He wired a large sum of money to a dummy account which then sent the funds to offshore account. Looking at their finances, Biolite has been shelling money to several similar accounts routing it through different sources for over a year. And the company taking the money? A corporation called Gentec.” Jason furrows his brow, applying butterfly stitches to the cleaned wound.

“Gentec? I take it you already looked into them?” He asked.

“I did. While Biolite looks squeaky clean, Gentec is anything but. They're a biomedical research company, but they've had lawsuits in the past for unethical expirimentation, rumors of aggressive therapies, and notably, possible disappearances linked to them from Jersey, Metropolis, Gotham, Washington, and New York. Nothing that anyone’s been able to prove though, they cover their tracks,” Jason almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. It was a lead. An honest to god lead.

“They have physical holdings?” He asked as he cleaned up the mess he'd made in the bathroom, ignoring the hopeful pounding in his chest.

“They have a lab in Brooklyn marked as a research facility. They're not a large corporation, only about 140 people on their payroll, security included. I found a layout of the building online. It's small, nowhere they could hide people, but there looks like there may be a hidden basement level that was left out of the plans.”

“Send me everything you have Babs.” The sound of his own heart was the only thing that greeted him before she spoke after a while.

“Jason, we don't know if they have them. This could be-”

“Babs please.” He hated the tone his voice took on but he didn't dwell on it. He sounded needy and weak, but he was right now. He needed you safe. She sighs, pausing for a moment to weigh her options.

“Fine, it's on its way to you. Just promise you won't go there without backup. I know they don't have a large security detail, but you're…” She paused, trying to find the right word.

“Erratic, impulsive, contentious? As volitile as a loaded gun?” He offered sarcastically as he left the bathroom, pulling on sweatpants and a hoodie and grabbing Bandit's leash to take him on a walk. The dog began running in circles and yelping excitedly the moment the leash was in his hand.

“Emotionally compromised." She settled on. “Just take care of yourself, Jason. And remember that we’re all here for you.” He fought the huff that wanted to pull from his lips. Since you went missing, his whole family had indeed stepped up to try to help find you, and those who were a bit more in touch with their emotional side had tried to be there for him. He shut everyone out, though, preferring to look for you on his own without having people hover around him, waiting for him to snap. However, he knew with a word that the support was there, and that meant something.

“Thanks Babs. I find something I’ll get Dick to go with me, I won't try to do this alone. Keep you updated too.”

“Alright, thank you. Get some rest Jason.” The line went dead, and Jason let out a long breath. He opened the door, Bandit bounding down the stairs as he took hi m outside. Gentec. That was something he could work with. But a biomedical facility? What were they doing to you if that where you were? He remembered the night he realized you were gone, the night everything came crashing down.

☆☆☆

The night after your odd call he waited, and waited, and waited by the phone until 9:30. Something felt wrong, a twinge in his gut that logic wouldn't quell. First, you forgot your session, then you sounded strange on the phone, and now you're not even calling? Maybe he was overreacting, maybe you just wanted to go to bed after therapy. However, he decided he couldn't handle not knowing, the possibility that something was wrong.

Finally he called their after-hour line, asking if you were okay. The nurse pulled HIPPA of course, all they could tell him was if you were admitted or not. He was about to fight and give the poor graveyard shift employee hell before they said you were no longer with Biolite facilities, making him freeze. That's not what he expected to hear.

“What? They check themselves out or get discharged? I drove them there, how are they supposed to get home? What time did they leave?” He hears a heavy sigh from over the phone.

“Sir, all I can tell you is y/n l/n is not admitted to our facility.” He grits his teeth, muscles aching with the need for release as his fear quickly morphed to frustration.

“Fine. Thanks.” He hung up and checked the location on your phone. Your battery was low, but you were still in Metropolis. Holed up in the thick woods west of the facility. He called your phone, staring at the profile photo as it rang on. It was taken on your 3rd anniversary, you had the cutest smile on your face as he kissed your cheek from the side. He hadn't liked the picture at first, his facial scar on display. But he loved how happy you looked, how much love was etched into your features. The picture grew on him. You were both broken people, but you were stronger together.

The line went to voicemail and he cursed, hanging up then calling again. You weren't moving from your position, but you weren't picking up the phone either.

“Come on baby.” He muttered to himself, dread boiling in his gut. Nothing. The line went to voice mail. He texted you, ‘hey, y/n, you alright? Hospital said you're not there anymore.’ At this point he didn't wait for your response. He walked purposefully to the closet, trading the civilian clothes of Jason Todd for the brutal ensemble of Red Hood. Each piece of gear that clicked on and slid into place furthered his determination, the cold analytical detachment he relied on when he patrolled the streets settled over him. You never texted him back, further compounding the concern on his conscious.

He slid out the window and jumped from the ledge to the neighboring building’s fire escape, quickly and gracefully scaling the side until he reached to rooftops. He navigated the alleyways adeptly, these streets as ingrained in him as his own blood, until he reached his hidden garage nearby where he kept his weapons, computer, and Red Hood bike.

Within minutes he was on his way to Metropolis, ignoring the speed limit as he weaved between honking cars and obstacles. He dared a cop to try and pull him over tonight. He tried to think of scenarios that could have occurred, but nothing explained why you would have left the building and not called him immediately. Nothing, unless of course something had happened to you.

He was jealous of Clark and Barry, able to make the trip from Gotham to Metropolis in minutes. While the pit had given Jason several abilities, superhuman speed was sadly wasn't one of them. His mind was a rampage of terror and anxiety the whole hour drive there, completely consumed by what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. Finally, he pulled up by the woods where your phone location showed you.

It was dark, the moon hanging high above as he parked his bike a bit away, not wanting the engine to spook you if you were hiding. It was a cool night, fall wind making the air nippy as auburn leaves crunched under his boots. He moved through the grass as quietly as possible, activating the night vision on his helmet. He combed the woods near your location, hoping to find you but praying to whoever may be listening that he didn't find a body. Instead he found neither, coming across your belongings dumped deep in the woods hidden amongst some foliage. Everything he'd helped you pack into the car was there. Your clothes, your books, your phone, and there was no sign of a struggle around them. He felt a strange hollowness he couldn’t describe creep into his heart as the fear that had been lingering in his mind came to the forefront; you were missing.

His first thought was Biolite. He’d had bad feelings about them from the get go, and they were the last people who had you. That was stop #1. He tucked your phone into his pocket, hiding your bags among leaves and dirt to come back for them. He couldn’t fit them on the bike, he’d need to come back with the car. That was the last of his worries right now though, despite the anxiety and stress now rampant in him from the scene. The dumped items were a bad sign, one that concerned him greatly. He ran back at breakneck speed to his bike and hopped on, the engine roaring to life beneath him as he sped off to their facility.

He parked a few streets away, tucking his bike away and slipping into the shadows. This wasn’t his territory, but he wasn’t some rookie reliant on the environment to survive. He weaves through the streets before he grappled to the top of a neighboring building and looked down upon the modern complex, eyes narrowing as he analyzed the environment. There were 2 guards stationed at all 3 ground level entrances, guns tucked into their belts. They were obviously bored on shift, talking, playing on their phones, lounging in chairs and leaning against the walls. Clearly, nothing had disrupted their night, but that didn’t mean nothing had happened to you.

He grappled to the Biolite building, pulling himself up on the roof. There was a single entrance on the roof with building access, one guard posted at the spot. He wasn’t paying attention, lost in thought as he stared blankly into the dark city night. Jason moved behind him with the quick efficiency of a predator, hovering behind the unknowing guard in moments, grabbing him and cutting off his air supply. In a swift motion Jason took his radio and key card off his belt, making sure he couldn’t phone for help, then lowered the body to the ground after a few moments once he went limp, unconscious.

Jason studied the blank key card for a moment; it should give him access to the whole building. He let himself in, the door buzzing as the lock disengaged, and silently moved down the stairwell to the facility. He just needed to get to an unlocked terminal, there he could copy the patient files to a hard drive to go over at home. He slinked through the facility, mostly empty at this level at this time of night. The building was a modern complex made of mostly of windows and white walls, splashes of blue and yellow thrown into the decor to make it feel less like a psych ward. He could hear voices approaching, one deep and rumbling and the other soft and melodious. He looked around, using the key card to sneak into an office while they passed. He strained his ears to see if they were discussing something important, but it was idle chatter about each of their children at home.

Once they passed he left the room, quickly moving through the halls like a ghost hovering over the ground. He would take a more direct approach if he was discovered, demanding the data instead of stealing it, but it’d be a hell of a lot easier if he could keep hidden.

First things first, he needed to turn off the cameras. Trying to avoid them in the halls would be impossible and he needed time to work. He kept eyes on the rooms as he passed on the top level until he found what he needed, security room. He used the keycard to let himself in, the door unlocking with a small click. He gently pushed it open, unsure if it was occupied, as sure enough there was a security guard inside reviewing the cameras on a looping feed. He’d need to shut down the cameras, but something told him she wouldn’t let him do that. Too bad for her.

He snuck behind her, moving agilely despite his size. She didn’t notice him until he had her in a chokehold, mimicking the treatment of the guard on the roof. Once she was unconscious he headed to the security terminal, looking over the controls and cameras. First he looked over the monitors, wanting to see if there were anything nefarious on the screens. However, it was as expected so he scrolled through the terminal until the cameras were blacked out. He stood and took a deep breath before slinking back into the hall, seeking a way to go deeper. This was going well so far, but he’d long learned long ago not to count chickens too early.

Once he reached the level below, he found a monster expanse of labs, a single scientists still working despite the time. He wasn’t expecting Biolite to have labs on the site of the psych ward despite their parent company being a pharmaceutical lab. However, this was exactly what he needed. The scientist had her computer open as she worked, and Jason stuck his hand in his pocket, feeling for the flash drive like a reassurance. This was good, he could grab patient files and see what they were working on in one swoop.

He walked behind her silently before grabbing her and cutting off her air. She reached for a panic button so he pulled her away from the desk until she fell unconscious. He laid her down and stepped over her, plugging his flash drive into the computer. He scrolled to files and copied over everything indiscriminately. Anything could be important.

As the files downloaded one folder caught his eye: patient records. He clicked it open and scrolled through until he found your private records, including paperwork indicating that you had in fact signed yourself out of Biolite Psychiatric Hospital that morning. He scrunched his brow, he wasn’t expecting that.

Why the hell had you checked yourself out early when the day before you said it was the best you’d felt in years? Why had you dumped your shit? Why didn’t you call him? Where did you go? The questions were only met with frustration and confusion, each answer he came up with worrying him more than the last. However, he didn’t have long to mull over it.

As the largest file was 87% done copying he heard voices down the hall, several sets of footsteps anxiously shuffling his way. Shit.

He turned to greet them with his pistols in hand as 4 guards poured through the lab doors holding guns with shaky hands and frantic eyes. Pathetic. “Red Hood! Drop your weapons, you’re outnumbered!” He barks a laugh in response.

“Hardly. I’m not here for trouble, leave before I have to hurt you.” He snuck a look back at the computer. 93%. Shit. The guards met eyes with each other, before raising their arms to aim. Jason reacted instantaneously, jumping back behind the table and tossing a smoke bomb on the ground. The room erupted into a dense smog as it discharged, the four men coughing and fruitlessly fanning their hands in front of their faces. He moved behind a large glass and metal structure of lab equipment as they shot haphazardly his direction, hoping to hit him. He, on the other hand, turned on the night vision on his helmet, easily seeing the guards through the dense smoke.

He jumped from behind his vantage point and sheathed his guns, needing to move quickly before the fog dissipated and he was outmanned again. They didn’t know where he was yet, and he’d take advantage of it. He moved to the guard closest to him on his left, quickly disabling the man with a strong jab to the back of the neck and a blunt blow to his temple. He fell like a sack of potatoes, and by the time the noise alerted the others Jason was already on the second.

He’d heard Jason’s footsteps approaching and raised his gun. Before he could fire Jason disarmed him with a kick to his hand, his body turning around fully and landing another kick to his jaw on the 360. He sprawled out with a cry, unconscious. The fog had cleared enough that the last two could see Red Hood’s silhouette as well as the bodies of their comrades on the floor. They cursed, raising their guns. However, two was basically an even match for Jason. He threw a batarang at one man, it circled around him before impaling the back of his head. He cried out, falling to the ground grasping the back of his skull. His buddy was distracted by the scene and didn’t notice Jason running up on him before it was too late.

Jason grabbed the gun from him and tossed it to the ground, dodging as the guard threw a punch at his head. He grabbed the outstretched arm, overextending it behind his back with a twist until it popped out of socket. He screamed, and Jason put him out of his misery with a strong elbow to the back of the head. As he fell to the ground, the man with the batarang got to his feet, obviously dazed and dizzy based on how drunk he looked. Jason scoffed, and pulled a gun from his hip, shooting the man in the chest with a non lethal round. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would put him out for a bit.

His shoulders heaved, breath ragged as his muscles shook, coming down from the high of a fight. The guards subdued for now, he turned back to the computer. 100%. He pulled the drive and placed it in his utility belt, safe and locked away in a compartment. Good, now to get the hell out. He retraced his steps through the lab and hallways, enhanced ears listening for every movement around him, moving quicker now that there were bodies in his wake. He could hear footsteps and yelling as their guards swarmed the levels, trying to find him. His mind kept tracing back to you however, barely caring about the danger he was in. Where did you go?

He’d escaped as the guards had begun to regroup and swarm the building, just in time for him to leave. He reluctantly begun to return to his safe house in Gotham, hating the idea of leaving Metropolis with you still possibly in the city. However, you very well could have left by now too, and he needed to get somewhere he could analyze the data. He’d raced away, heading to his safe space, a hidden dilapidated house on the outskirts of the city with a computer tapped into the bat-computer network that would allow him to reference what Bruce had access to as well. He barely remembered the drive back, like highway amnesia, but paid it no mind as he swept into the safe house, setting up at the monitor before diving into Biolite’s files. And after what he’d done to get it, what he got was… disappointing.

Your files indicated you’d signed yourself out that morning at 6:23 am. Reading the notes of your presiding physician, Dr. Joseph, it was notated that she felt you would benefit from further treatment despite your departure. Furthermore, there were extensive notes on the event you’d told him about, where you forgot your session. Your doctor noted that once you seemingly came back to your senses, you behaved oddly. More amenable and apathetic. Your interview after your session was looping and disjointed, with it taking you almost a full 30 minutes to get you back to responding entirely coherently.

However, they weren’t surprised by the behavior, it was a phenomenon they had observed in a handful of patients that they called Dream Walking. It was a reaction to the mix of therapies that caused amnesia and temporary cognitive modification. They considered it a notable but harmless symptom of the experimental treatments, something that went away some time after the session ended and was inconsequential compared to the progress the therapy made.

That had sent fire through his veins. You forgot a combined almost 2 hours of your life then woke up like another person and they called it “inconsequential”? At the time he had wondered if the behavior changes were why you had checked yourself out, maybe the therapy had jumbled something up in your head and you were still confused. At least, he hoped confused would be the adjective to describe your state of mind when he found you. If he finds you.

☆☆☆

He sighed as he reentered the apartment with Bandit, already making his way to the computer to go over the files on Gentec that Babs had sent over. He felt so goddamn useless. He was a detective, a vigilante, a fighter, a rescuer. Yet when it came to protecting and finding the person who mattered most, he failed. However, it only steeled his resolve further. He settled in for what was sure to be hours of reading. And as he dug further into Gentec and Biolite’s files, he made a quiet promise to both you and himself.

“Just hold on baby. I’m coming for you.”

[reborn-readings]

What does 2025 have in store for you?

Tip Jar | Masterlist TBA

Welcome to the end of the year, and the beginning of a new one. At this moment, I'd like to take a look at what sorts of opportunities are available on our collective paths in 2025. Hope you enjoy!

This is a group reading, so take what resonates and leave the rest. Don't force anything if it does not fit. Remember that the future is not set in stone and that other potential paths exist depending on your movement through the course of time.

Pile 1 (Top Left)

The Tower | King of Pentacles | Awakening of Wands – Eros | Rx Ace pf Wands | Nine of Winter | Howlite – Meditation | Dreamer | Inspiration 

Pile 1, 2025 is the wake-up call for you. For so long you have focused on your security and material gain that you have now built a fortress around you. How much more secure do you need to be? You are already very skilled at procuring what you need, but it seems that you do not trust your skills. You seem to place your trust in what you have, not what you are. But that is unsustainable. 

Do you fear that the fires of your passions—those frivolous things that we enjoy, those things that we’d place as wants and not needs—will burn up what you’ve built? Well, Pile 1, you can either light your abode with a cozy fire or suffer the cold of winter, letting it sap your strength. There have been signs that you have been neglecting this side of yourself, maybe from the universe, maybe from your own body. 

I will say, you are correct that any passion taken too far can be destructive. But just as destructive is the notion of living your life whilst denying yourself your dreams. Think back to the reason that you wanted to feel safe in the first place. 

I have three big, important messages for you. One: Closed eyes are just as important as open eyes. Two: Your dreams chose you for a reason. Three: rekindle the flame that burned for your passions and projects. 2025 will be a hard road toward stability and fulfillment, but remember: whatever falls apart you have the ability to build back up. 

Other messages - It’s about the journey. Rest and relaxation allowing one to see clearly. The worst-case scenario in your head is worse than the actual worst-case scenario. Traveling the hard path for no reason. Urgent messages to you—stop, be quiet, listen. 

Symbols - Drawing from a never-ending well. Basking in the glow of an out-of-control flame. Weightlessness. Soft, heavy paws. Someone wrapping you in the folds and depths of their cloak.

Pile 2 (Top Right)

Three of Swords | Nine of Pentacles | Quester of Wands – Anansi | Rx Three of Cups | Princess of Winter | Equilibrium | Elegance | Returning – Going with the Flow 

I’m sorry to tell you, Pile 2, but 2025 heralds heartbreak. But that’s not the be-all end-all to it. The rest of these cards don’t point to that much of a loss with the heartbreak. 

After all…you kind of have it made! You are somebody who indulges in the pleasures of life, and, if someone can’t keep up with you, well, then it’s their loss, isn’t it? You’ve got other things to do, other people to grace your time with. Solitude is not the answer right now, and I don’t think it’s even crossed your mind. 

Remember to value the traits of yourself that you know are true. I can sense you’re a very honest, direct, straightforward person, and maybe whoever tried to break your heart didn’t like that about you. Or maybe they saw the suave, elegant way that you move about, the charm with which you capture whole rooms full of people, and they grew jealous. Either way, you have more than enough capability to swat off their attempt at making you hurt. 

Still, it’s difficult to not feel icy or standoffish after a breakup (romantic or non!). Maybe you feel like instead of winter fading to spring, it’s bouncing back to autumn? Don’t worry; as long as you keep and cherish your remaining connections and remain calm, things will go back to normal soon, and what you’ve been growing will yield fruit as usual. For you, 2025 is the year of the bounce-back! Life goes on, and you will keep on enjoying it, quickly filling the space left behind with something grounding and complimentary. 

Other messages - Remember and be awed by the sheer connectivity of the world. Waiting to bloom. Obscurity—a message of intrigue that only you will know. Embrace the myriad colors in you. 

Symbols - Tangles. Stepping into darkness where you expected something else. Lively settings; bars, parties, large get-togethers, festivals and fairs. Multitasking easily.

Pile 3 (Bottom Left)

Rx Judgement | Six of Pentacles | Quester of Swords – Monkey | The World | Princess of Spring | Hematite – Foundation | Discernment | Healing – Restoring Hope 

Hello, Pile 3! I immediately get a sense of relaxation from you. You’re someone who knows how to kick back and have a good time, someone who people flock to because you share that feeling with others. 

But I can sense in you, deep down, a hesitation at this kind of life that you’ve built for yourself. You wonder if it’ll hold water. Deep inside, you are someone who seeks glory and security, someone who strives to be intelligent and to be held as intelligent. Don’t get me wrong—you’re grateful for all this time, for everything gin your recent past, and you should be. But there’s an itch telling you that it’s time to move on. 

2025 is a good opportunity to set your achievements up on their shelves and go out to achieve some more. I get both the sense of something duly completed and of something just beginning. Your uncertainty shines through and tints your vision, though. You don’t want to leap out onto a new field where you won’t even know how to stay on your feet. How will you build up if you don’t know where to start? Just remember: often, the best solution is the simplest. You have good instincts, intuition that has been passed down from your ancestors to you, and all you need to do is learn how to use it. 

Hope is a muscle that you have not been working, but it’s never too late to set a goal and start working those muscles. It looks like 2025 is gonna be a busy year for you! As long as you remember to fall back on your common sense and not give up, you’ll be fine. Get out there already! The whole Earth awaits you. I have faith in you. 

Other messages - Very few come through. Value or emphasis on charity, helping others. Optimism (needed). Judgement-free zones. Many things to look forward to throughout the year. 

Symbols - Gossamer wings. Sand; maybe a local beach? Primary colors, esp. red and yellow. Castles.

Pile 4 (Bottom Right)

Pile 4 

Rx Justice | Ace of Pentacles | Awakening of Cups – Orunmila | Rx King of Wands | Six of Summer | Red Aventurine – Journey | Dreamer | Grief – Accepting Loss 

Pile 4, the first message that came through to me was a voice screaming—it’s not fair! It’s not fair at all. And life just seems to…go on. 

As we move into the new year, it seems that you have one eye on the past, or more. I sense that you are someone on a quest to see the past clearly. Do you have memories that are fuzzy and indistinct? Did a story that you heard about your past not line up with the truth? Is there something unaddressed that’s keeping you from being yourself? 

Well, 2025 seems to bring an opportunity to resolve that. But you must temper yourself and keep your feet on the ground; it is likely that complicated and well-thought-out plans won’t work. There’s always something that could go wrong. Still, that doesn’t mean I’m telling you to miss out on the opportunity when it comes—just that you should be careful to take a very grounded, consistent, and well-paced approach to it. And perhaps what you’re looking for isn’t a sudden falling-into-place of all the knowledge that you seek, but the knowledge that you gain about yourself as you undertake this journey. 

Whatever the outcome, there will be an element of sorrow to it. Even if everything goes off without a hitch, you might still look back on 2025 and mourn the loss of anything else you could’ve done with the time. This year will come with many emotions, many ups and down. It’s cliché advice, I know, but I’m sensing that the best way to go about it is to take life one moment at a time. I see some very warm moments for you; being surrounded by your friends, quiet spaces that bring time and space to think, walks or rides surrounded by nature in golden light. Let each moment be what it will be, and once it’s gone, let it pass on. 

Other messages - To enjoy the journey, let go of the outcome. Find fulfillment in pursuit. Annoyance. Sunsets. 

Symbols - Spirals. Small spaces or doorways. Relief and tears.  

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Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[midnight-mourning]

All Aboard

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 27❄️❄️

Once again, Pom, your brain is massive, this was a LOT of fun, i saw the words 'magic' and 'fae elements' and the pot started boiling over ashjadk, anywho, please enjoy!

Prompt: second request >:3c (but no pressure!!) I havent read all the other folks yet to see if there was a Polar Express/Train ride type oneshot. I feel like train conductor/surrealism vibes would be a delight, with holiday magic and spritely, fae elements sprinkled in. Maybe getting lost on to the destination--or the train getting stopped due to a snowstorm. (Very Nana, if you watched that anime haha) Perhaps, yn is in clear emotional distress bc of smth happening interpersonally leading up. Texting, phones, drama. Do they even want to go home…? … (Will they go back home? >:)) mweheh.)

Word Count: 2811

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The train whistle blares loudly outside, starting to roll down the tracks. You watch out the window as the station begins to fade away, sighing as snow hits the pane every so often. You check you phone again when it buzzes, another message to add to the pile. Another half-hearted apology you're guessing. 

You're about to look in detail when you stop, cursing yourself and shaking your head. You got on this train for that exact reason, to avoid having to speak to them. You weren't going to give in, you just, needed a break. To go somewhere, anywhere really. 

Your ticket was for home, and the idea of being back in your apartment sounds better and better by the moment. You sink back in the seat again, already liking the sound of being back in your own bed with your own food and your own life. You never should have come here, should've listened to your friends, they'd been right all along. 

You feel a headache coming on, either from the stress, or the exhaustion of crying so much. Or even, the nagging of your friends as they brag and say they told you so. Which, they did, but you didn't need to hear it again. At least you had a day or so. The trip back was long, requiring you to get a sleeper car, where most of your belongings resided currently, save for the book sitting beside you, along with your sketchbook. 

You'd been wanting to do a bit of reading, or drawing, anything to take your mind off things, but after receiving that text you just didn't have the heart for it. 

"Everything alright over here, friend?"

You glance up, seeing a well-dressed man standing to your right. He was tall, blond, and wore a sun-themed mask over his eyes, which are also covered with a white shade. His smile is warm, kind.

You straighten up a bit, feeling self-conscious all the sudden.  "Oh, yeah. Just fine. Sorry, do you need my ticket?"

"Yes please!" 

You hand it over to him, and he punches it, promptly handing it back to you. "There you go! Is there anything else I can get for you? Perhaps a snack, or a drink?"

"No, I'm good, but thank you... Sorry, what's your name?"

The man bows slightly. "You may call me Sun. And you, friend?"

"Oh, my friends call me Nick/N." You smile. 

Sun tilts his head, his smile seems, strained for a moment. Then—"Welcome aboard, then, Nick/N. We hope you enjoy the ride!" For good measure, he takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it for a moment before releasing you.

"T-thanks." You say, watching as he walks off, going over to where the other conductor stands. 

You take note that he's wearing a moon mask, with red covering his eyes instead. They exchanged a few hushed words with each other, and when they look over to you, you avert your gaze again. 

You didn't pay attention when you booked this train, just got on the first one you could, you wonder if it's themed in some way. It would make sense anyway, why else for the masks? 

As you settle in for your ride, the conductors come by multiple times each to check on you. During this you find out the other is named 'Moon', which, pretty on the nose you'd say, but you have to guess it's all part of the act. 

Regardless, you find them to be friendly, very chatty, almost too much so. They're constantly offering you something to eat or drink, and if you hadn't brought snacks you'd take them up on the offer. Even then, they try encouraging you to pick something from the train's menu. 

"Surely you deserve something better than that, crumbling thing, Sunshine."

"Or something sweet to wash it down, maybe a glass of wine?"

You take another bite of your granola bar. "Nah, this is good enough for now. And I'm not much of a day drinker." You unscrew your water bottle lid, taking a sip. "Appreciate it though!"

"If you change your mind, simply let us know, Starlight."

That was another thing, the nicknames. At first, they used yours that you'd given, almost constantly addressing you in conversation. It was like they were waiting for something to happen. But when it didn't they'd switched to the celestial-themed ones instead. 

It was all so, incredibly, interesting. 

In the evening, you're sketching in your seat when your phone goes off again. You frown upon hearing it, looking out the window momentarily. It's dark, but you can make out that it's snowing incredibly hard now. You're surprised the train is still able to get through all this—

"What are you drawing, Sunbeam?"

You jump, finding the two of them are across from you. Sun leans over the back of the opposite seat, elbows resting on the top edge, while Moon lounges across the seat itself.

You feel embarrassed now. "Oh, nothing important." You don't want to admit that you're drawing them, that would be utterly humiliating. 

You couldn't help it, despite their, overtly friendly behavior—to the point you'd grown slightly suspicious—you found the two to be alarmingly charming despite it all. There was an air about them that was enticing, drawing you in and making you ever curious. 

Moon tsks. "Now, now. Don't leave us in suspense. I'm sure anything you create would be lovely."

"It's true, though maybe not as lovely as them, wouldn't you say?" Sun rests his head in his hand, small smirk on his lips. 

Moon nods, waving his hand. "Not even a question, of course."

Your ears are burning at this point. And, compelled by their outward flirting you hold out your sketchbook, head ducked to maybe hide some of your awkwardness. 

"Just take it already." You mumble. "And go easy on me, please. It's been awhile..."

Eager hands snatch up your book, and they bicker over who gets to hold it. You giggle at the exchange, and they finally settle on each holding one side as they flip through. 

As they go, Sun whistles, and Moon hums in agreement, it only serves to fluster you more. 

"You made all of these?" Moon asks. 

You laugh. "Well yeah, most of those are from months ago. They're, okay, I guess."

"Okay? You have talent, Starshine!" Sun states, waving his hand to the page. "I've never seen a hu-anyone create like this. It's impressive."

You have to cover up your face then, it's on fire. "Please, stop. They're really not—"

"And you drew us?" Sun exclaims. 

"They drew me better looking."

Sun huffs. "No, look how they got my jaw perfect!"

They delve into arguing again about who is sketched better and you just about can't take it anymore when your phone starts ringing. 

All three of you snap your attention to the device. 

When you see the caller ID, your heart fills with dread. 

Instead of curling up from being flustered, you curl up with fear, groaning. "Why can't they take a hint..."

As the phone continues to ring, you get ready to pick it up from the seat, either to answer or to decline the call. 

You don't get the chance, as Sun asks you a question. "Friend, is this your signature here?" He's pointing to a page of your sketchbook. 

"I, yeah. It is." You don't know why you didn't hesitate with that answer, too stressed to think, currently. 

You don't notice the shared look between the two, slight grins on their faces at this information. 

Your phone is still ringing, so you finally grab it, debating on what to do. 

"Do you want to talk to them?" Moon asks you. 

You sigh, then laugh. "God no. Not at all. But..." You trail off, and shake your head. "Maybe I should hear them out. Even if I really don't want to deal with them right now."

Your thumb hovers over the answer button, ready to press it—

"Y/n. Don't answer the phone." Sun's words are firm, but there's still a softness to them, almost remorseful?

You don't know, because one moment your phone is in your hand, the next it's not. You... aren't sure why but, it's probably fine, right?

The rest of the evening proceeds like everything is normal. Neither of them calls you by your name again, sticking to their nicknames. You're not hungry, so you don't eat dinner despite their pestering about it not being good for you. And you retire to your bed after a late night filled with chatting. The two of them must have very little work to do as conductors, if they can spend so much time with a single passenger like you. 

Speaking of, was the train always so empty, or had people just slowly been getting off without you noticing? You yawn, and as your head hits the pillow decide that you'll worry about it tomorrow. Besides, you should be home by the end of the morning anyhow. 

When you wake up the next day, you notice that there's a distinct lack of movement happening. You must have stopped at a station. You stretch and hop out of bed, deciding that after the day you had yesterday, you deserve to walk around in your pajamas for a bit. 

You go over to the dining car, incredibly hungry, and expecting people to be boarding. What you find is an empty car filled with piping hot food and—

"Is that a hot coco bar?" You ask to the open air, starting to salivate at the thought. 

However, before you even consider food, you decide you need to figure out what's going on. Walking over to the window, you see that the snow is piled high all around the train, almost up to the window. You must have hit a drift in the night, meaning you're stuck until the can clear the tracks. 

Normal people would be concerned about this information. But either because you don't care when you get home—as long as you're not there—or because you've developed a strange lack of care for most time related things, you don't mind in the slightest. 

With a shrug, you go over and grab a plate and start piling it high, someone's got to eat it, right? 

You also grab a large mug of hot chocolate, adding many marshmallows and tons of whipped cream. You sit down, ready to dig in, when you're spooked as you realize Moon is sitting across from you, chin resting in his hand with a smile. 

"Good morning, Starlight. Sleep well?"

You nod. "Yeah. You sure know how to make an entrance, don't you?"

"We pride ourselves on it." Sun says with a chuckle, in the seat behind you, you realize. 

Looking up, you see he's in a similar position to Moon, small smirk on his face as he observes you. 

"Seems so. While you're both here, what's going on with the train?" You raise a piece of toast to your mouth. "Unless I'm wrong and you two aren't good at your job."

You take a bite, and have to sit up again, eyes wide. The bread is perfectly crispy, with just the right amount of butter. It tastes like heaven. 

You're too caught up in taking another bite to catch what Sun says. 

"Oh my god. This is the best toast I've ever had in my life." You finish devouring it, wiping your mouth and looking back up to him. "Sorry, can you repeat that?"

Sun chuckles, hands shifting to hold your face. "I said, we're snowed in. It will take some time for the tracks to be cleared. Potentially several days." 

"Oh, really?" You reach down blindly for more food, and feel your plate be scooted closer to you. You thank Moon briefly and snatch up a piece of bacon, which also tastes divine. "Bummer."

This seems to surprise the masked man, eyebrows shooting up above the mask's edge. "You're not concerned?"

"Nah. To be honest, I don't have much of a place to go back to. A cold apartment in a shitty building on the wrong side of the city." You finish your bacon, grabbing another piece. "Not to mention how my friends are going to be getting on to me about how they were right and I was wrong and on and on and on and, man this food is delicious, like how do you guys have such a good cook for a train?"

Sun looks away from you, and sitting straight you see Moon's looking to him as well. You however, are too busy indulging your gluttony to care. Every single bite is amazing, like, the best breakfast you've ever had. 

You're about to take a drink of your hot coco, when a hand grabs your wrist. 

"Wait." Moon states, then sighs. 

You raise an eyebrow, waiting. 

He looks behind you to Sun, and glancing back you see he's frowning, but nods. 

He comes around the seat, and sits across from you with Moon. After removing the coco from your hands, he clasps one of yours in both his own. 

"We haven't been truthful with you, Sunshine. At least, I believe that's how your people say it." His grip tightens for a moment before relaxing. "It wasn't by accident that you boarded this train."

You furrow your brow. "Well, yeah, I bought the ticket."

"It wasn't the ticket you were supposed to. We, ensured you would board this train specifically." Moon states, sounding, ashamed. 

Sun continues for him. "You see, we're not from your world. We come from somewhere else, somewhere long forgotten to most of your kind. Many of our own like to play tricks on you humans, for entertainment and such. We prefer to help."

"The train is designed to find those in need of it." Moon waves to the rest of the car. "The lost, the lonely, the hurting,"—he glances at you for a moment—"It gives them a place to heal, to learn, to change in some cases. Then, when they're ready, the return home, none the wiser to the time that's past or what's truly occurred."

You notice Sun's cheeks are tinged pink under the mask, up until now you don't think you've seen either of them be so bashful. "Though, we've been, 'keeping tabs' on you for some time. Besides the gloomy aura you had we found you to be—" He bites his cheek, and mutters his next words. "Very attractive."

"Getting you here became a bit of a game for us." Moon admits, also blushing now. "As was getting you to share your name, and eat our food. Most never stay on the train long enough to do so. Or at least, they don't think they do."

Sun finally looks back to you, hands still holding your own. "But we wanted to tell you before you took a drink, as that would, bind you to us. But not to the train! You can leave whenever you like, of course. But, you deserved to know our intentions, regardless of whether you would even consider feeling the same or not."

He releases you finally, folding his now fidgeting hands into his lap. 

You take a moment to take everything in, reviewing in your head to make sure you understood everything they've told you. 

Once you've determined that yes, this is actually happening, you speak. 

"So if I drink this, I'll stay here... forever?" You point down to the cup, still steaming.

"You could still leave whenever you wish, but essentially yes—Oh my stars."

The two can only stare, mouths agape as you chug your hot coco in one go. When your finished you sigh, taking your napkin and dabbing your mouth. 

"Man, that hit the spot. I'll be getting more of that later. Anywho,"—you start to dig in to the rest of your plate—"It might take me a bit, but which one of you wants dibs on first kiss? If that's your thing, that is."

"I-"

"Me." Moon blurts. 

At this, Sun blusters, and you snicker to yourself as they begin to debate back and forth on the subject. You glance out the window at the snowy landscape, taking in how, enchanted it feels now that you fully understand the situation. It's certainly not what you expected to happen when you boarded this train, but you're certainly not complaining about the outcome. 

Maybe you'll change your mind, and one day depart from this place and the two fae you've somehow acquired. But as of this moment, spending your days with two magic beings vying for your attention, a warm bed, good food, and helping others? 

That's a pretty good deal to you. 

Best Christmas present you've ever gotten, by a long shot.

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Thank you @divinit3a for the request! As i said before, VERY big brained and I enjoyed it a good bit hehe ^-^

Thanks for reading!

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