#and a first meeting w someone who she never thought she’d see again

[crumbobumbo]

Yarrow’s past

[causenessus]

YAY CONGRATS ON 1k!! you totally deserve it and your work is phenomenal and i can’t wait to see what else you make <3

for the event.. could i get a fluff 📚 fic w/ kuroo where the reader helps him find a book as a library aid??

see you again. | kuroo t.

kuroo x f!reader

written in 3rd pov

one word prompt from 1k followers event: 📚 -> library

"my heart's on mars, kinda hard to see, but you know i'll see you again <3" from when will i see you again by shakka (DOES NOT fit the vibes at all i mean kind of in my delusional brain but i just like the song and it fits the title <3)

word count: 1.9k words

notes: lots of fluff!! kuroo being down bad for the reader upon first meeting her, reader also being down bad. kuroo being a nerd bc man could be sexy or flirt to save his life <3 bokuto being the real star of this entire follower event apparently who knows how many more fics he's gonna make it into. also this was really fun to write bc little lore drop but one year in high school i once got kicked out of a class (very convoluted thing, they thought the class was triggering me which was lowkey a fair statement) so i got to be a library aide instead <333 i'm going to say this is not edited bc i don't want to deal with my mistakes or take responsibility for them. THANK U FOR THIS REQUEST WYR!! I LOVE YOU SM <3 I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS FIC

although she enjoyed the solace of re-shelving books on her own, she enjoyed helping others just as much. it was like getting snippets of people’s lives through the books they were in search of. sometimes students came in looking for books for classes, which allowed her to meddle a little into just how many majors her school really offered, and how niche they could be. others came in looking for books to pass the time and she was always happy to recommend one of her favorites if they were open to suggestions.

while some of the other aides were there because they saw the job as an easy, quick way to make some extra money, she took pleasure in her job. when lost students came up to the counter asking for help locating a book, most of the aides felt that they had done their job well when they gave the student some kind of cryptic number and last name to scour the shelves for in return. however, numbers revealed nothing of where a single book could be in a large room piled with books that lined and stuffed every shelf and corner they could fit into.

she often took it upon herself to go on a search with the students who came to her for help. she’d consult the system for where a book was located and then lead the student to where the book was located rather than just sending them on their way. sometimes it took a few minutes to find what they were looking for, but they always found it in the end.

asking someone to wander around a university’s library and expecting them to know where a book labeled “796.31 dearing” was located was the equivalent to asking them to find a needle in a haystack. she didn’t expect anyone to know where a book was right off the bat; that was her job, and she was happy to help.

kuroo always dreaded going to the library. he dreaded everything about it. he loathed having to be quiet, aware of every noise he made, every rustle of his pant legs brushing against each other, and he hated trying to find the single book he was looking for amongst thousands of others. sometimes he felt like he'd be better off pirating a pdf version of a book off the internet, but it never appealed to him as much as a physical book.

over lunch with bokuto one day, he had rubbed a hand down his face and groaned at the thought of even stepping foot into the library, “i have to get a book for one of my social science classes, but do you know how hard they make it to find any kind of science book?”

“you should ask for y/n!” bokuto responded with a mouth full of food, “she’s really nice, she actually walked with me to help find the book i was looking for.”

“you went to the library to get a book? i would’ve expected you to just sparknote it,” kuroo teased with a sleazy grin.

his friend huffed, crossing his arms, “you should have more faith in me! i did read the book, but... it was because my professor had already caught me using sparknotes and said she’d fail me if she caught me using it again...” he trailed off and kuroo laughed.

“i think you just proved your own point wrong, buddy,” he rested his hand in his palm, looking down at the table they were sitting at. “you said her name’s y/n? what’s she look like?”

“mm, i don’t remember,” bokuto said, after a thoughtful pause, “she’s probably wearing a nametag, though. or just ask for y/n! someone will direct you to her.”

“that’s weird, man. what am i supposed to tell her when she questions why i specifically asked for her?” he responded with a sigh.

“just tell her i sent you! she knows me pretty well now, she won’t mind,” the dual hair colored boy shrugged before shoving more food into his mouth, “it’s that or search on your own for your book, but i’d say just find y/n, she can help.”

bokuto had a way of making everything seem like it would turn out fine, but all that confidence left him the moment he walked through the library doors. all he knew was he was on the lookout for a girl; nothing about what she looked like, just her name.

he could pretend to be cool and suave from afar, but when it came to actual interactions, he was never the best at maintaining his composure. he always talked too fast, or would regrettably talk more than was acceptable by his standards.

he settled for trying to find the book himself first. it was some kind of book about behavior, by a last name he thought sounded slightly like a serial killer. if he couldn’t even remember the author’s name, he was helpless. was it even worth trying to find someone to help him? or would he just make a fool of himself trying to describe the book he was looking for?

but he needed to find this book tonight, he knew that. he’d already put off reading it for long enough, and his deadline was coming up. knowing his grade was at risk, he defeatedly dragged his feet to the foot counter. it was impossible for him to casually stand there, looking at people’s name tags, and a girl at a computer was already looking at him, waiting patiently for him to tell her what he needed.

“uh–” he started off, trying to keep his voice low, “is y/n working tonight?”

the girl’s eyebrows knitted together, and he was distracted by the way her lips pursed before he tried to focus on her eyes instead, “that’s me. did you need something?”

perhaps it was luckier that he had found her on his first try rather than walking around like an idiot looking for a mysterious girl, but he couldn’t help worrying about how this interaction was already off to a bad start. he couldn’t believe bokuto could ever forget a face like hers when he was sure it’d be stuck in his head for weeks. “yeah, i’m looking for a book…?” he cringed at his own words. what else would he be here for? she only raised her brows, waiting for him to continue. “it’s um, a book on behaviorism i think. i’m majoring in sports management and i need this book for a social sciences class but i don’t remember what it’s called.”

his honesty made the corner of her lips lift, and he found himself staring again. she had to be wearing lipstick; there was no way her lips could be that red. “behaviorism? and you don’t remember what the book is called? what about the author?”

he shook his head. did he tell her his analogy? he’d already made a stupid first impression, “i don’t remember what his name was, but it sort of sounded like…”

“like a serial killer?” she finished, eyes flicking up to his own.

his own brows raised in surprise, “yeah, how did you know?”

she laughed softly at his remark, “i took a psychology class. it’s how i remembered his name too. i called him beef skinner, but his name’s b.f. skinner.” he found his own lips turning up, and they shared a smile before she cleared her throat, turning back to her screen. he watched her fingers fly across the keyboard under her hands before she turned her monitor screen around so he could see it. “does this cover look familiar? maybe by the title?”

it was a simple cover, dark blue with a tri-colored atom at the bottom. the title was written in bold capital letters: Science and Human Behavior. it clicked with him as he read the title and he could only nod, dumbfounded as she returned the screen back to its normal position.

“that’s exactly it. you’re like a genius, i can’t believe you found it based on three basic words,” he complimented, watching as she stood up, dusting off her pencil skirt. 

he felt a puff of pride in his chest, seeing the way she smiled at his words. “it’s my job,” she laughed again, “i think i had someone else come in looking for it a few days ago. too. call it good timing. your book should be somewhere in the 300s, i’ll lead you there.”

she waved a hand, motioning for him to follow as she came around the side of the counter and he was quick to follow. they walked along the aisles, her head tilting up ever so often to look up at the number plates adorning each shelf. “if you don’t mind me asking, how did you know my name?” she asked, turning back to him.

he fell into step walking alongside her as he hummed in thought, “i had a friend that mentioned you. i always get lost coming here and i was telling him about it and he said i should try to find you because you’re really nice.”

“aw,” she commented with a small smile as they turned down an aisle, “that was sweet of him to say. i’m glad i could help.”

their conversation went silent as they continued walking, and he found himself tugging at the collar of his sweater nervously. “he was right,” he mumbled.

“what was that?” she looked at him again, and he inhaled sharply again, looking into her eyes.

“nothing. i mean—i was just saying my friend was right. you’re very nice,” he spoke quickly, averting his eyes towards the floor. this was what he’d meant when he said he always talked too much; he really needed to learn to keep his thoughts in.

but when she laughed at his compliment, he thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to make a fool of himself if he could hear her voice again. “thank you, i’m glad to hear that. what was your name, again?” she asked, a blush dusting her cheeks. she couldn’t believe she was letting a boy’s words affect her in such a way when she didn’t even know his name.

he was thinking the same thing; how had telling her his name completely slipped his mind? “kuroo,” he said, stopping when she stopped, crouching to run her fingers along the spines of a row of books close to the ground. “my name’s kuroo tetsuro.”

“well, kuroo,” she said, standing back up and looking at him with that smile of hers. paired with the sound of his name on her tongue, he felt like he was going to pass out. “it was nice to meet you. and here’s your book. maybe i’ll see you again?”

“definitely,” he said too quickly, but it was worth it to watch her nose scrunch as she laughed, “i’ll definitely come back, it what meant. um, not just to see you. well— actually— it’d be kind of nice if maybe we saw each other again. maybe over dinner? could i get your number?”

“yes,” she answered, and when she bit her lip, trying to stop the way her smile had grew, he felt like he was standing in front of angel, “to all of that. meet me back at the counter?”

"okay," he breathed, watching her walk off, her hands grabbing fists full of her skirt. maybe the library wasn't as bad as he thought, after all.

[heyyallitsbethfanfic]

dry eyes

A dead eye peered through the scope of the hecate sniper rifle.

BANG! Clink… A shot fired, and the casing rolled aimlessly away.

On the top of the clocktower, a depressed noir laid down, near motionless.

BANG! Clink…

The raven had been posted there for longer than they’d care to remember. All they wanted was release.

BANG! Clink…

“Full party down…” the black-cloaked figure sighed. “Guess this’s just been a buncha aim practice…”

Not a single fight. Not a single shot fired in their direction. Though it’s not like they cared. If someone fired, they wouldn’t move. They had no desire to fight. They wanted to give up.

“Footsteps…”

They had heard someone ascending the clock tower and were suddenly eye to eye with a familiar sight down their scope.

“Heh, guess I gave a lasting impression on ya Kirito. Never would’ve suspected you’d pick up the sniper mantle.”

Kirito stared up at the teal haired girl before her, his eyes tired and weary. A dull grey emptiness was set into them, where a purple shimmering light had been before. Sinon’s more playful appearance dropped as she saw the zombie before her. He slowly shifted his positioning away from Sinon before he fired the last shot in his clip ending another enemy player miles away.

“... I don’t wanna think about swords at all right now. Staying as far away as possible.” 

He remained focused on the scope of his rifle. He didn’t want to meet her eyes again. His voice was empty, quiet and strained like it was the first sentence he’d spoken that week.

“You okay Kirito? You’re not lookin’ so hot…” She trailed off. She knew he hated discussing himself but this was the worst he’d ever looked.

“Yeah… just some stress relief is all…” He looked aside for a moment, but still refused to meet Sinon’s empathetic stare. “I see why you love the sniper. Gotta always be on alert… Can’t talk. Can’t think… Can’t cry.” His eyes started watering at the edges.

“This is bad,” Sinon thought to herself. “He’s never like this…”

She lifted Kirito out of his perch, and propped him up next to her.

“Hey, you can talk to me.”

His eyes couldn’t meet hers. He couldn’t face her. His body ached. His heart felt like a worn and tired rope, just barely holding on by the thinnest of it’s threads.

“Hey Kirito. I’m worried about you. Nobody hears from you for a week after you logged out of ALO and now you’re here looking like you’re dead.”

Kirito finally looked to her and met her eyes. Sinon’s heart shattered as the boy who had so desperately tried helping her for so long looked as if he was one inch from the edge.

“... I…” he sighed out. “It’s been too long since I was playing solo… And now… I gotta remember how to do it…”

“Huh? You’re not making any sense?” Sinon tried holding Kirito’s hand, and she saw him fighting back tears as he pulled it away.

“Asuna… was the person who pulled me out of being solo… I’d always been alone up to then. Both in game, and out there… and she’s not here anymore.”

“Asuna? W-what’s going on? Is she alright?”

Kirito could no longer hold back any of the tears she’d been keeping these past days.

“Asuna got accepted at a college in the U.S… and she’s leaving. And… and… and…” his voice faltered and got weaker as he went on. “She wanted to break up. So that distance wouldn’t hurt.”

Kirito’s avatar’s mascara ran down her cheeks, staining them black, and beneath Sinon could see even on his avatar the dark circles that indicated Kirito hadn’t been sleeping.

Sinon clutched above her heart. She couldn’t believe that Asuna could do something so heartless to the poor boy in front of her.

“Hey, hey. I’m here now.” She pulled him into an embrace, stroking his hair as he sobbed into her chest. “It’s all gonna be okay. I promise.” She tried her best to reassure him, but how could she promise that? His wife had left him here like this…

“T-thank you Shino…” Her heart broke hearing him pleading out to her, not her avatar, but her.

“Hey, have you been sleeping?”

“I… I haven’t been able to. So I’d just log on here, away from everyone else…”

“Kazuto…”

“I still log out to shower and call Yui before bed… but it’s mainly just been… this.”

“Even after everything he’s still doing his best to be there for Yui…”

“Ki-Kirito have you eaten at all? And is Sugu not there?”

Kirito tried getting up, but Sinon pulled him right back into the embrace. 

“Sugu’s been on a class trip. She won’t be back til next week…”

Sinon saw the broken mess of a boy in front of her and wanted to cry herself. This was her rock. The one who held up their whole group, helping each and every one of them. He had held her as she cried, punching and kicking and saying things she’d always regret and yet he was steadfast, unflinching, just there for her when she needed it most. And he was crumbling…

“Hey Kirito… Listen… You need to rest, and you need to eat… Log off and shower… A-and I’m gonna be over as soon as I can. I’ll pick us up some food on the way…”

She’d dreamed of spending the night at Kirito’s before, but never like this. She wishes it could have been under better circumstances.

Kirito intended to protest, but couldn’t. He desperately wanted somebody to help, even if he wished he could be alone. Both of them embraced one final time before they logged out.

About 30 minutes later, Suguha gets a notification on her phone, from the motion camera at the door. “Why is Shino coming over at… 11pm?” She laid back down and passed out. “Tomorrow’s Problem.”

…

A knocking came at the door.

Kirito slicked back his still-damp-from-showering hair and sheepishly answered the door.

As the door slowly crept open, two broken souls met eyes. The girl had been tightly holding onto her purse and the food she’d picked up for the boy, but they were abruptly dropped to the side in the doorway as she launched herself at the boy. His eyes were vacant, like his body was still here but the soul had long since left. She hadn’t seen him like this since that time in Underworld, where he was… gone. She couldn’t help it, she held onto him and cried into him.

“Kazuto… I was so fucking scared…” She could barely speak through her sobs. “The thought of you hurting… I’m so sorry…”

Kazuto lightly brushed his hand against the back of her head, stroking her hair.

“T-thank you Shino… I- I’m sorry you have to see me like this…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for- I should’ve reached out sooner.” She looked up from her place nuzzling his neck to his face. Beneath one of his tired eyes sat a scar cutting long across his cheek. She traced the faded mark, sighing out. “I’m sorry.”

They pulled away from eachother and Kazuto slumped down on the couch of the living room as Shino collected her things and placed her bags on the kitchen table.

“Shino- I… I don’t know why you put up with me.” The boy’s hands shook, and tears bubbled in the corners of his eyes.

Shino sat beside Kazuto and gently cupped his face in her hand. “I care about you Kazuto. I always have.” 

“All I’ve ever done is hurt people. I don’t deserve to be cared about.” His breath was brisk and harsh. He was fighting not her words, but the words he was holding back.

“Every day, that’s all I do. I left behind my family when I found out I was adopted- and I left them behind for two years in SAO- And then on my first day there, I abandoned Argo and Klein.”

His knuckles were white as his fists shook in rage at himself.

“Then I abandoned Asuna. I took Liz on a suicide mission and nearly killed her, and broke her heart. If I was quicker, I could’ve saved Pina for Silica. I let Yui die. And I was too weak… I let Kayaba kill Asuna. She died in my arms…”

Shino gripped onto Kazuto’s shoulders, but he wasn’t finished.

“And then I came home, and I was a burden to everyone. And all I could think about was her. Not my family or other friends. Just her. And Sugu-”

The tears flowed out.

“After everything- Sugu helped me. And I broke her heart. And I just stood there like a jackass and couldn’t say anything…”

“Broke her heart?...”

“I pushed myself away from her time after time and she still cared about me- and she fell in love with me- she cried herself to sleep at night over me in the hospital and I never gave her the time of day. I don’t deserve to be called her brother.” He screamed out the last sentence, his voice breaking.

“And then- and then I was in Underworld. And. And. If I were faster, Ronye and Tiese…”

He grit his teeth.

“And I failed you time and time again Shino. I used your trust. I hurt you. I embarrassed you. If it weren’t for me, DeathGun wouldn’t have even targeted you. And I let you get-” 

“Kazuto you saved my life. If it weren’t for you-”

“If it weren’t for me, ten more people would be alive right now.” His voice bit at her.

“The members of Laughing Coffin?...”

“No… The Moonlit Black Cats. Ducker, Sasamaru, Tetsuo, Keita… Sachi… I failed them all. I let them die. And Keita killed himself in front of me.”

He clutched his chest.

“Sachi… Sachi was so fucking afraid of dying in Sword Art Online. I promised her- I promised her she’d live. I’d protect her. That she and I’d make it out together…”

He wailed into his hands. Shino stroked his back.

“And then there was Eugeo… my best friend. I fought alongside him for two years. I… I loved him… and he died in my arms. I couldn’t save him. He was better than me. He was an actual hero, he wasn’t just some roleplaying dickhead who could never help anyone- I let him down… It’s my fault he died.”

Shino pulled Kazuto into a hug.

“Kazuto… none of them would blame you. They were your friends. They knew you’d do anything to help them, anything at all. That’s why you fought so hard for them, and fight so hard now. Since they’re still here with you…”

She pet his head as he sobbed into her shoulder.

“I- I was so scared when I heard about what happened to you. That the last Death Gun got you… I was so worried, and I hurt myself because I thought it was all my fault… You got hurt because you got caught between me and Shinkawa.”

She pulled back, and held his face so his eyes met hers.

“You saved everyone in Sword Art Online Kazuto. It’s because of you, everyone in the game could walk free. And you saved everyone in Underworld too. And now people like Alice and Yui can be here in the real world too. You’ve helped so many people.”

Kazuto looked in her eyes for a moment, considering her words, before closing his eyes. He didn’t want to see her as he spoke again.

“They said that of the ten thousand people who logged into Sword Art Online, six thousand survived, and the other four thousand… I always thought I should be a part of them.” Shino’s grip on the back of Kazuto’s shirt intensified. She was digging into him now.

“K-Kazuto?”

“Every day I’ve thought it would have been better if my brain was fried there. If I was one of the ones who jumped on day one… maybe it would have been better that way…”

Shino pulled him into her like a vice, holding on for dear life.

“Kazuto- never. Never say something like that. You’re… You’re the one who told me that nomatter who you are, your life has touched someone else. That there’s someone out there who loves you, and cares about you. You saved me then. And I wanna be here for you now. Kazuto… My life belongs to you. I’ll give it up for you. I wanna stay with you until the end. I’ll do everything I can.”

The tears stopped. Kazuto looked at me, and smiled softly. “And I promise to do everything I can do to protect you too, forever.”

He held onto her hand, and the two softly blushed.

“Kazuto… Could I stay with you for the night?”

The boy could only nod.

…

The two held onto eachother until they had recollected themselves. But neither wanted to let go as they got up to eat. The quiet slowly faded away as they chatted to eachother, the warmth in the home growing with each word. They eventually retreated to the couch, spending the evening watching movies together, curled under a blanket. They hadn’t noticed how somewhere along the way, they’d shifted into eachother, their bodies pressed together cuddling, as if it was natural for them. Two broken pieces fitting together, forming one single heart.

They slept on the couch that night, settling in at almost dawn, and neither would ever want to admit it, but it was the most peaceful sleep they’d experienced in a long long time.

…

The raven of the star-crossed soldiers were awoken by Kazuto’s phone ringing in the morning.

“Big brother- Why exactly is Shino staying the night at our place?” Her tone was accusatory, which Kazuto figured was entirely fair, given the circumstances.

“I’ve been having a really rough couple of days. Ever since Asuna left, I hadn’t been taking care of myself… Shino noticed and came over to help.”

“Asuna… left?”

Kazuto huffed out a sigh. “Guess she decided it’s on me to tell everyone. Asuna broke up with me. About the same time you left on your trip.”

“Jeez… at the same time I’m not there to comfort you- how cruel. I’m sorry big bro. I’ll be home soon to help you. I’m glad Shino was there to help.”

“I am too.” Kazuto combed the hair of the still sleeping girl beside him with his fingers. She murmured slightly in her sleep. “Kirito…”

…

Shino ended up staying at the Kirigaya residence for the next week, until Suguha got home. They’d spend the day together, cooking and cleaning for eachother, and playing GunGale together. Each night Kazuto insisted that he’d take the couch and Shino could sleep in his bed, yet nomatter where they decided upon sleeping, they’d still end up in eachother’s arms by the end of the night. Shino insisted that it was because she heard Kazuto stirring and worried he was having a nightmare, but Kazuto couldn’t complain either way. The gentle fondness she’d showed him made his heart flutter, and he was ashamed to admit, but every time he started worrying about Asuna, there would be a Shino in his imagination there to save him. His knight in shining armor. As they spent the day in GGO again, they ended up walking by a shop as a glimmer caught Kirito’s eye. He nabbed it before Sinon even realized what he’d done. 

…

As they cleared another mission together, they sat next to eachother in the same cave they’d shared their first night in. Kirito slightly anxiously shifted in his seat as Sinon went over their loot from the mission.

“Oh actually Sinon- there’s something that I wanted to share with you.”

“Oh did you get different drops than me? Anything good?” The boy twirled his hair nervously.

“H-hopefully…”

He tossed a small sphere at her.

“A present grenade?”

She looked up at him, slightly confused.

“J-just hit the button.”

He hid his blushing face in his hands as Sinon pressed the blinking red trigger. The sphere split open in two halves, revealing a pair of two rings, a deep galaxy purple and a bright ocean blue. 

Kirito swallowed his fears “I… I saw them and thought of us… consider it a thanks for everything you’ve done for me Sinon.”

Sinon blushed and hugged the boy beside her.

“You dummy! I love it!” She slipped on the purple ring, and took Kirito’s hand and slipped on the blue on.

“Eh? Sinon?” Kirito was slightly confused by her choice of color.

“It’s just like your sword and your eyes. It’s a nice thing to always remember ya, even when we’re not by eachother’s sides.” She smiled warmly and hugged tighter.

“Guess so. But I don’t wanna leave your side anytime soon.”

“Me neither.”

Sinon looked deep into Kirito’s eyes, the color returned to them, the sparkle was back. She leaned in to him and he followed, and their lips found a home together.

[kadavernagh]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The lake in Saol Eile PARTIES: Regan and Wynne SUMMARY: Wynne meets with Regan at the lake and, in a moment of Regan's desperation, is able to reach her. They speak of escape. CONTENT: Self-harm, domestic abuse, parental death, sibling death, vomit mention

"You carry Padrig’s death on you now. That was your judgement. I could never carry someone’s death. This is my judgement.” But was the jade in her hand not as heavy as any cadaver in her morgue? She would shed it too. She didn’t have to carry it. She didn’t have to carry anything. No banshee did.

The soil underneath Regan bled a dark brown as she coughed up more water, which had to be the last of it. She still felt soggy inside – and not the kind of soggy she was trying to forget, the kind she had shed from her skin, the kind she had nearly given to the lake to drown because she could not do it herself. It was usually a two-banshee job, an báthadh, it had to be. As far above humanity as they were, banshees were still susceptible to the same instinct to breathe, to scramble and claw their way to the surface no matter what. And that was the root of all of Regan’s problems, wasn’t it? Life would be so much easier, Regan thought, if banshees did not need to breathe.

Crickets chirped along the water’s edge; they had been Regan’s only audience. Cliodhna had not been there. She didn’t get to see her granddaughter's persistence, her flailing efforts, her attempt to disavow what held her back. 

But it was just that, wasn’t it? An attempt. Pride turned to shame. Regan hadn’t been able to do what was really necessary. The ring was still on her finger. She didn’t see the jade shine through the surface and then fade as it sank down with the detritus. She didn’t throw it in the lake where it probably belonged, because such a swampy, soaked token deserved somewhere equally wet, and not a hand such as hers. But she couldn’t, she couldn’t do it. 

Regan ran her towel through her damp, stringy hair again. The sun could not be counted on here. It was a day like most others, where the mist rolled down to the earth and exhaled a cool humidity. The wet stayed wet. Decomposition toiled a little faster. Wynne grew bolder. Though perhaps that last one had nothing to do with the weather. Where Elias remained upstairs in the clinic, Wynne had been daring enough to venture out, which Regan saw as an opportunity for them to see the rot of this place (once more, not the good kind). That had been her intention, anyway, when she’d asked Wynne to meet her by the lake in the middle of the day. 

She would show Wynne where she had drowned herself, and then had tried to drown Jade’s love. She would show them the tar pit, the place where young banshees learned to rend flesh with their scream, the spot where Declan would die a senseless death. She would show them her palms and the new aithrighe chun báis writ in iron above her navel, tell them how she received this ugly, awful honor, the way her father’s purpose was to be expendable. She would describe the punishments, the exiles, the tearing of wings from cold skin should someone dare fly high enough to ask a question. She would name every single banshee who lived here and recount every callous comment, rude remark, compulsion to kill for something that might have been no more than an idea. And then Wynne, a mask of impenetrable horror over their naive face, would see that this was no place for them, and they would drag Elias and the ham child out the way they had come in, and they would not look back at such a vile place.

Regan would do that, if her heart didn’t feel like it was about to vomit the second she looked at Wynne. She averted her gaze immediately. Hearts did not vomit, but hers would become the first in recorded medical history. She swallowed down what tasted like the scummy water of the lake, but there was no drowning the sensation now. Regan stared at the water, stiff as she was born to be; she couldn’t look at Wynne, and wondered what Wynne saw when they looked at her now. “Have you made plans to leave yet, or do you require more convincing? You’ve walked around enough. You know, don’t you? You’ve seen it, all of this, twice now.” Regan crossed her arms, catching the sight of her finger where her failure shined back at her. There was that cardiac queasiness again. The breath she took was not nearly as controlled as it should have been. Her lungs ached to scream loud enough to part the lake, but she had it, barely, and she held it, tangling her own fingers around it to push it down into the water before it could breathe. Regan’s distant expression registered faint discomfort. That whirlpool forming in her stomach had to be just a few measly drops remaining inside her. Still, she couldn’t meet Wynne’s eyes again. “There is no demon here, metaphorical or otherwise. There is nothing to bravely confront. There is no battle to fight. So do not fall on your own sword in lieu of having an enemy. The banshees would all enjoy that, seeing your organs spilled out over something sharp, but you would not.”

———

It was impossible to stay in their designated room. Wynne had been stuck in plenty of rooms in their life, ruled by passivity and fear. They’d folded to obedience and let other people’s demands sculpt their days, as was customary back at home, and though they had often felt accomplished at the end of one of those days, they knew better now. More importantly, they had not come here to sit idly and wait for a chance to run. Run, they would — but only with Regan in tow. And, alternatively, only if they could be certain that Elias, Nora and them had done everything they could to get Regan to come, even if it had been fruitless. There was a part of them that knew the reality existed that this mission would partially fail. That there were minds that could not be changed or moved. That there was a home they should return to. That there was no use in trying forever. Some battles were lost. Their brother had died on an altar. Some battles were lost.

But for now they clung to hope and whatever courage they had managed to muster. They left the clinic each day in an attempt to do what Emilio might. To investigate. To make themself understand what this place was, in general and to Dr Kavanagh. They understood these to be two different things, after all. Their impression of the aos sí would always be painted in different colors than that of Regan.

It was like that with their own former home too, wasn’t it? Emilio had gone there and seen something ugly, something that should be met with anger and violence. Who knew what Teddy had seen, or Lil. To Wynne, the estate on the shores of Moosehead lake was a combination of sweet memories. Of bonfires and swimming in the lake, of shared meals and communal living — but also of forced death, of reprimands and punishment, of limits so tight that sometimes they weren’t sure they could breathe.

They saw things in Saol Eile, with those wide and observant eyes, their ability to be quiet and a wallflower. They saw joy. They saw glee. They saw more ugly things, though, than these things. The smell of death hung like a thick blanket everywhere, reminding them of the leftovers at the altar after a sacrifice, after the demon had left some things behind and their people had been to afraid to clean it, lest It wanted more. They tried to see what Regan might see, but they didn’t understand it yet. They didn’t see her surrounded with other women, like some clumps of banshees seemed to be — like cousins or sisters. Perhaps Dr Kavanagh was a sheep returning to her flock, but if that was so, Wynne had not yet found evidence of it. 

There was the lake, which was perhaps the only peaceful place if you ignored the echoes of screams. It could be that Regan wished to stay for the lake, but there were other lakes. This wasn’t a superior lake, just like the lake at their once home hadn’t been.

They met Regan where they had agreed to meet, not sure what would come of this. Wynne had once been someone people listened to, a sanctified martyr, a savior. At the end of the day, though, they had answered to their elders and their patriarch, just like the rest of them. Once, they had thought of Regan as something similar to those people — another elder with a wisdom that could guide them. But they realized now that perhaps Regan was just like the others at home. A member, who was looking up at their seniors to guide them, filled with desperate hope. Another person grappling with duty and obedience. Maybe Regan was even more similar to themself than they had ever thought could be. If she was, maybe she too would run.

They halted next to her and watched the ripples of the lake. It was nice enough to swim in it now, but they hadn’t brought a towel. The one they’d packed was hanging in their designated place of hiding. Wynne was quiet, letting Regan take the lead. There was still some of that reverence left. Such things didn’t disappear so easily. “I intend to leave,” they said. “That was always the plan.” Leaving was something they knew how to do. Leaving was something they had learned was sometimes the right thing to do, even if it came with a guilty conscience and an endless question of what if. Leaving was something Regan had approved of, in their case. “I have seen it. I don’t understand why you need to stay. This isn’t — it’s not a good place.” They were quiet again, noting how unhappy Regan looked. Not that she’d often looked happy in Wicked’s Rest, but she had never looked like this either.

“I don’t want to fight. I don’t — there is no fight here for me. Maybe not for you either. I want to leave. To go home to the people in Wicked’s Rest. To get Hamstring there. And you. You know that.” There was no demand in their tone. Just a statement of fact, as that was all it was. Wynne watched the lake with its pushes and pulls. Patient and endless. More immortal than any undead thing they’d ever met and would ever meet. “Why did you leave this place before?” Because she had returned, hadn’t she? She had left and come back. “I … I think about going back too. Not any more. I burned that bridge. But I still do.” They dreamed of it more now that Ariadne wasn’t there to ensure a dreamless sleep. Of the lake, of the meals, of the fields. Of their brother. Always their brother. “I know why you came back. But why leave?”

———

“I do know that. But you staying here, allowing the ham child to do the same, is putting her in danger. Cut your losses. I have cut mine.” That wasn’t a lie. Regan had cut them (hadn’t she? She had, right?). Accepting that she had cut them was what took longer. That was it. “Do you like the lake? There is death at the bottom. A heavy coating of it.” Regan’s eyes filled black, and she scanned, watching darkness mix within the water like ink. “There are waterfalls that feed into it. The ham child mentioned them. I think her… tour guide showed her. She doesn’t realize that they lead to all of this death.”

Wynne’s question made her blink, attentive. It made sense that they were asking about that. They probably thought they could replicate Reilly’s success, but these circumstances were different. Regan paused, her thoughts taking a moment to shuffle themselves into the right order. The day Reilly found her was both incredibly hazy, yet also one of the clearest memories she had of this place. “I saw my brother and… I don’t think either of us thought the other was real, at first. He looked older.” She didn’t. “I asked him how he got here. He said a plane. He appealed to my confusion, I guess.” It had been more than that, though. Something unrecognizable rose up in Regan’s throat and where she had expected a scream, her voice only croaked. She crossed her arms, turning away from Wynne slightly because her failures were becoming evident. It wouldn’t take her grandmother to pick them from her face. “I had been here for years and… I was told I would never see him again. And then I did see him again. He pointed that out. So for just a few minutes, for just long enough to… to make the mistake I made, I thought that, perhaps, he might be right about other things, where my grandmother had been wrong. Like that I did not need to be here.”

Regan’s resolve cooled and hardened, and she turned back toward Wynne. “But I am back here. My grandmother wasn’t wrong. I could never… I couldn’t do what you did. Burning that proverbial bridge. I need this place, I need my grandmother. It’s not only about duty.” A comparison struck her, something Wynne might grasp. “You were going to sacrifice yourself for your people. It wasn’t only about duty to you, either, but about the greater good. That is why I’m here, too.”

And it became easy to lose sight of, when little but duty was poured into her ears. But as her grandmother liked reminding her, Regan could not have one without the other. Did Wynne understand better now, or had they seen the whole truth this entire time, and come anyway? Regan twisted her ring around her finger. Somewhere deep within her mind, she conjured an image of herself throwing it into the water, as she tried to do before Wynne arrived. She could see the tiny splash and the shine as it rocked down to the bottom. Regan hated Jade right now – as much as she was allowed to. Hated her love. Hated her love for Wynne, and Elias, and the reckless child who had stuffed herself in luggage. Hated herself for attracting such humans into her orbit. She freed her finger from the ring and held it in her hand. As her gaze locked over the water, her muscles begged to pitch it.

———

“I don’t –” They cleared their throat. They wanted to sound unwavering and steady, the way they had felt every now and then on this journey. Regan was no elder to cower in front of — she was just a person, Wynne reminded themself. A complicated person who had listened to them before, who might listen again. “I don’t think I am allowing her to stay here — that’d insinuate I have any authority over her,” they said. “I can’t just drag her from here, kicking and screaming. It would … it would be bad.” Nora would have to agree to come. She had powers that could overwhelm Wynne, and though they didn’t think she’d use them against them, they weren’t sure how far Nora would go to achieve her goals. “I am working on it. I don’t want either of us to be in danger.” A beat. “That includes you.” 

Wynne turned their attention to the lake as Regan did, moving in tandem with the banshee. These were things they knew how to do – how to be agreeable. How to move along, how to act as a unit. They nodded. “I like the lake. It reminds me of the one at my old home.” The ebb and flow was peaceful. They felt the urge to take off their shoes and socks, to hike up their skirt and stand in it. “There’s death at the bottom of every body of water, isn’t there? It’s how nature keeps feeding itself.” They squinted. “I hope there’s no trash in it. That would be very bad.” Wynne hesitated a moment, and then started unlacing their shoes. They wanted to be here a while – to really speak to Regan. They might as well get comfortable. “I’m not sure how much Nora knows about death. The way we do.” It was worrying.

They worked on pulling off their shoes and socks, all the while standing. Maybe part of them wanted to demonstrate that they weren’t put off by the death at the bottom of the lake, but the weather was also nice. Wynne knew that part of life was about enjoying it now. For Iwan, in part. They didn’t want to think about him, but they did as Regan spoke of her brother. “Does he know you are back here?” Had she told him, like she had told all others? That brother, who had crossed an ocean and had gotten into one of those horrible planes to come get her. “Is that not … is that not sad and wrong, that you can never see him again if you stay here? If this place keeps out all those that care for you, even from a visit? Is that not, on its own, bad?” 

They weren’t sure how to do this, though — how to convince Regan to leave when every day was filled with a moment of regret. Sometimes, yes, sometimes Wynne felt empowered by their decision to live. Sometimes it was as simple as getting their feet wet in a lake and feeling the sun on their face to make it seem worth it, but sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes it was more akin to being swallowed by a lake, wondering how things might have been if they hadn’t messed with the status quo. Wynne wasn’t Regan’s brother. They weren’t Elias, who wore his heart on his sleeve and was so convinced of his righteousness. They weren’t Jade, who loved Regan in a singular way. They were Wynne, who still regretted not getting on that altar from time to time. Who was glad and grateful for all the people they’d met and the things they’d learned — but who might undo it, should they get a second chance.

“You said – you need to be here to learn, right?” Wynne was trying to piece together all they knew about banshees. They screamed, they killed, they had a pit where people died slowly. They upheld Fate like they had once upheld their then-nameless demon. It was hard to undo the threads of the Banshee’s world, just as it was hard to undo the ones that had held together their own. How much of it was true, how much of it was not? When were things about control and when was it simply about controlling? Again – there was no way to start judging Regan’s grandmother, when their own mentor haunted them. When there were still ties that bound them to their family, who might convert them back into their circles should they return.

But Wynne would not return and Regan had. 

“I’m … I’m just trying to see, okay? I don’t –” There was the hesitation again. After depositing their phone into their shoe, they walked into the water, let the sharpness of the cold water sharpen them. “It wasn’t the greater good though, was it? It was lies, back at home. And if not that, it was corruption. I thought it was for the good of my community, but what good would it have been? If I had laid down on that altar for their bounty and fortune? If another had followed me, and another? What good — what good is it if Normstring is hurt and your hands are bandaged too – I noticed – and you cannot see your family, if you are confined? Is this the only way to learn?” 

They watched Regan take her ring off and though Wynne wasn’t sure what the ring symbolized, they understood it meant something. “They told me so many times there was no other way.” There was something tired in their voice, then. “That dying was the best thing I could do, but I didn’t. And you told me that was a good decision.” They wanted to take that ring from her hands, to stuff it in their pocket and shake Regan the way so many people had shaken their shoulders. But they wouldn’t. “It can’t be so simple, that this is the only place, the only way.” 

———

Confusion twisted into a tired sort of faint alarm across Regan’s face as Wynne removed their shoes. The meaning was clear. They were going to wade into the lake. No surprise that Wynne seemed comfortable around the water, given their previous home right on a rather large lake (one that was probably impactful to their community) but it was the secondary meaning that Regan did not like: Wynne was not going anywhere. The towel dangling from Regan’s hand dropped clumsily to the ground at the realization. Her hair dripped. Her lungs felt wet again. Was it not enough that Wynne insisted on coming here on some ill-advised rescue mission? Now they would also swim in the same water (if what Regan did could be called swimming), and claim they knew about death in the same way. The line Regan had drawn between the two of them, so stark only seconds again, wobbled.

Since coming here, Regan had tried not to think about her brothers, or Jade, or anyone else she’d left behind. They clung to her like the stench of cadaverine but less desirable, unable to be scrubbed off. She addressed Wynne more curtly than she intended. “My brothers don’t know about any of this, and will not. Having them visit would be cruel to everyone involved. They would see that their sister has died, and I would be setting myself back. The same is true of Jade, and of you and Elias.” It took about two weeks living here, in the beginning, before Regan had raised the subject of her brothers to Cliodhna, asking when they could visit. Normally displeased with questions, her grandmother was uncharacteristically open to providing Regan with an answer to this one – it was a question that she supplied in response. What would they see? That shut Regan up. Over time, she formulated the things her grandmother did not need to say – you would hurt them, a year of progress would be undone in a moment, they would blame you for what happened to your dad, they would try to pull you back where you do not belong, they won’t recognize you now. Regan did not ask again. 

She watched Wynne out of the corner of her eye as they waded into the water. They seemed more certain about that than anything they were saying. Did they feel like a hypocrite, some part of them missing what they left behind or regretting what they did? At least here, Regan would learn to have no regrets. Wynne would never get that in Wicked’s Rest. She would here. She would.

Regan clenched the damp bandage wrapped around her palm, not reacting at all to Wynne pointing it out. She fidgeted the ring loosely between her fingers, the water still calling for it, louder and louder, pounding like her slow heart. Jade had promised Regan her bones. Could she still lay claim to them, to her, if she did this, changed and twisted herself in such a way? 

She tried and failed to blot Jade out again. “I assume norm is what you called ham in your home. Hamstring was not supposed to do that. She won’t do it again. Your community… they collapsed without you.” It was harsh, Regan knew that, but Wynne had not shied away from that fact in the past. “Not because of some sacrifice, but because you went back for your notion of the greater good. You carry Padrig’s death on you now. That was your judgement. I could never carry someone’s death. This is my judgement.” But was the jade in her hand not as heavy as any cadaver in her morgue? She would shed it too. She didn’t have to carry it. She didn’t have to carry anything. No banshee did. She thought she hadn’t been willful enough to throw it earlier, that was the problem, but it was the opposite, she realized now – she had been too willful, too human, too much Regan. Wynne would need to see that she belonged here. She needed to prove it to herself even more. Regan curled her fingers around the ring and wound her arm up, expecting to see Jade streak through the air like a green-bottle fly before she hit the deepest part of the lake (that was the water sounding in her ears, only the water, not her heart now). 

But Regan’s shoulder locked up. Her palm refused to open. Her fingers did not listen. It was Wynne’s fault. It was Jade’s. They made it her fault.

Fine. Regan’s lips curled in a snarl she wasn’t allowed to have, but it would be the last. Instead of attempting to throw the ring, she marched into the water behind Wynne. She would drop it, let it sink and drown like the stones crushing her chest. Let it join all of the other dead things in the lake. That would fix this and free her. It was, as Wynne had asked, the only way. Hatred flashed in her eyes. It needed to go. It all needed to go, if she was ever going to be able to be what she needed to be. Why couldn’t she be left here in peace? Why was she constantly being disinterred and dragged out of her burial ground, stuffed full of her organs again when she was trying so hard to embalm herself? 

Regan waded further in, ahead of Wynne, not feeling the chill at all. She would answer Wynne’s question in a way they would feel as the sting of loss, a way that would force them to give up, one that made a point rather than a concession. “The reflex to breathe, to live, is incredibly strong,” Regan started, remembering how her grandmother had explained this before the first drowning. She saw it in the defensive wounds on the hands of decedents, sometimes skewered all the way through with the knives that slayed them. She saw it in the huge eyes of the thrashing animals she vociferously disassembled. She saw it in Wynne as they had stood outside of their community, taking in everyone’s words of encouragement. Life wanted to keep living, even despite death’s inexorable march. Banshees were not things of life. 

Where Wynne seemed to find the water peaceful, Regan only felt thousands of reminders against her skin. Her grandmother’s fingers caught in her hair, Jade’s soft kisses trailing down her neck, the sting against the wide scab on her stomach, the way Elias’s entire arms had wrapped around her, the desperation of her lungs. “Screaming– screaming for someone’s death is the same, and if you fail, if you open your mouth and try to live, the price can be everyone around you. There is only one way to learn, to do no harm. When you drown, your instincts take over. They force you to kick, to jump, to clamber, so desperate to reach the surface the body feels as though it's on fire. But all you can really do is wait… waiting is the worst thing about drowning.” 

The rictus of her arm eased and she lowered it, ring still stuck against her palm like it had been glued to the bandage. Regan’s voice was low and struggling to stay flat, itself attempting to reach the surface. “You strain against it at first. The first time, the second – the first twenty times, perhaps. But eventually… you stop.” She stared into the water, and for a second, she thought she saw her grandmother’s dark eyes peering back at her. Regan swept her hand through it, disrupting the image. Stop, she muttered to herself, to the reformed reflection, desperate. 

Regan’s silence did not last long. “Or so I’ve heard.” She was almost waist deep now, and her grip on the ring loosened; it tightened around her voice instead. “This–” She held out a shaking palm, showing Wynne the beautiful promise, one that had been so full of love, one that should have instead been an inconsequential trinket from a life she had been severed from “–it’s the problem. You’re all the problem. It’s why I don’t yet know what it feels like to not flail and gasp.” The water rode up Regan’s shirt, reaching her face from feet below it, staining her voice and her eyes. “That's why this isn’t working. It’s not working. It’s not working this time. I need it to work. Please leave. Please let it work.” She tried to turn her wrist. Tried to let the ring drop. But it only sat in her palm, her hand trembling underneath it, more fragile than what it held and who she pleaded to.

———

The water was cold. Though the world warmed slightly since the appearance of spring – even if April remained as capricious as always – the water was taking its time to adjust to the more moderate temperatures. Wynne didn’t mind it though. They felt awakened by it, more alert by the pinpricks the cold water delivered through their system with every centimeter of skin that got in contact with the water. It kept them grounded to this place, their mind from straying to another lakeshore where they had stood with the same kind of dread. A shore where maybe they would have longed for someone to speak with them as frankly.

The lake at home had been large and seemingly endless. A border of their world. They’d lay on their back on the water, staring up at the sky and considering its clouds, its chemtrails, its blueness. Wishing and wondering. They’d loved that lake. They had found answers on it, mused away as a young child about the ways and wiles of the world. If they waded further now and laid on their back, would they find any answers in the Irish sky? Would they find the way the make Regan see that this place was a poison, a weapon, a cage? Would they find the right words to make Nora give up and abandon plan? 

They doubted it. It hadn’t been Moosehead lake and its sky above it that had made Wynne see with clarity, back in the day. It had been their own self preservation, their selfishness, their anger and above all, perhaps, their fear. They let their fingers dance on the water all the same, because the water was – in all of this – blameless. It could not help the bodies at its bottom, but it could still sustain other lifeforms. 

Regan spoke with a definitive and curt tone, one that would have made them cower a few months before. But they had crossed another body of water to be here. They had seen their former mentor die because of their decision. They were here because their friends were in trouble and even if Regan’s tone struck that obedient nerve within, they did not budge. They dipped their fingers into the water further. “That’s not right,” they said. Maybe it was childish, to take rightness into consideration — but it wasn’t right. “Your brothers deserve to know where you are. You deserve to see your brothers. To see the people you care about. Those aren’t — those can’t be things to set you back.” It was through their loved ones that Wynne had found the things they had lacked, after all. Home and support, but also autonomy and safety. These things mattered. They had to matter.

Wynne was confused when Regan said something about norm meaning ham. They frowned but decided to let it go, as talking about different definitions for ham was not really the most pressing issue. Regan was speaking of their former home, after all, accusing them of what they knew they were guilt of. It still made their breath catch in their throat, though. No one had told them, after all, beside Siobhan that one time. No one had been honest with them like this. They swallowed, stared a the ripples in the lake Regan and them were causing. “I don’t think your community will collapse without you,” they answered. “But the people in Maine might. They don’t want you to die. Not truly and also not in this metaphorical way you speak of.” 

They were closer together now and Wynne started hiking up their skirt a little to keep it from getting wet as they followed Regan. She spoke of banshee lessons and ways and some of it went over their head. They didn’t understand it fully, the screaming. They knew it was done for someone’s death and knew, now, that it was capable of causing harm — that people could die because of the scream, that it wasn’t a mere announcement. But the details evaded them. Did it matter, though? Was it not just another responsibility to learn to live with? Regan had been told there was one way to learn and she saw no further. She stood at the edge of the lake and didn’t see the opposite shore, the other roads to take. 

And why did she compare it – this learning – with drowning? Was she speaking in metaphors again or was that why she was drenched? “Did you — were you trying that now? To try and drown without giving into your instincts?” They needed to know, what this was. To clarify what Regan was speaking about.

They felt their stomach grow tight with dread. No one had ever pushed them under water in such a way. No one had made them learn by making them squirm and struggle for life. Maybe they would have, once they had tied their arms back and pushed them on the altar — but to Wynne struggling to live had looked more like running through the woods, sleeping on benches and in seedy motels, being confronted with humanity’s cruelty in the uglier corners of the world. And then survival had looked like learning to love other people, in accepting their care and affection even if they felt infinitely dirty for their survival.

“The — I don’t know if this is a metaphor or if you are really being drowned, but irregardless. The way to not flail and gasp is to not get stuck underwater to begin with. It’s not – it’s not to cut ties with us. You’ve heard that this is how you learn,” they said, and they were starting to feel a little more sure of themself, “But people lie and people are misguided. And I don’t know about being a banshee. But I don’t think having to drown or feel like you’re drowning is a way to learn anything. You can learn a different way. I do think that is true.” 

It was hard to hear Regan’s pleas. To see her tremble. Wynne had been taught how to calm people once. How to make them feel at ease. They had been a beacon of hope, a promise of a bountiful future. But they didn’t know if they could reach Regan the way they had then. “You can find a different way for it to work.” They moved down further, letting go of their skirt and letting it float in the water as it reached their thighs. They stood more in front of Regan now, rather than beside or behind her. “You told me so many things, about demanding better for myself. About having done right by myself. So why can you not do that for yourself too?”

———

Was her drowning all that surprising? Regan had never told Jade, never told anyone so overtly (humans would not understand, only be horrified), but how did Wynne, or anyone, think that banshees learned how to hold in a breath while their lungs were exploding out through their ribcage? Positive reinforcement? “I dislike metaphors,” Regan said simply, though it wasn’t true. “Mine usually involve bones, at the very least.” Many times she had compared her love and those she cared about to cherished femurs or glistening entrails. The more her life had been filled with poetry, and she had come to learn or remember so many sensations not described by anatomy textbooks, things the dead would not tell her, the more her mind opened up. Her language choice and mannerisms had begun to mirror that. Less Gaeilge, hills in her flat affect, the occasional please, words curling around her lips because she had smiled, metaphors and similes and analogies brightening her speech by the day. “I dislike metaphors,” Regan repeated, and, thinking of how much she had changed within a year, it was more true now.

How dare Wynne step in front of her, try to stop her forward momentum, her clear path to becoming something better? That was not a metaphor either. If she could move her hand she would have pushed the child out of the way. Regan couldn’t drop the ring. But she could set one foot in front of the other until she was in deep enough that the ring would be pulled off her palm by the gentle current. She could if Wynne were not obstructing her. “Move.” 

Wynne held enough certainty on what was right for both of them, but they still seemed unsure about something. Regan had learned to recognize the silence that covered them right before they said something about their home; they probably thought of that place. She wasn’t sure why. This was not the same. Regan’s voice wobbled as she spoke. “Banshees live a long time. Hundreds of years. And despite that, I have not heard a single word about there being another way. Don’t you think someone would have found it by now?” If there were another way, why would they not be using it? This was not like Wynne’s community, where someone in charge needed to keep power in their grip, and self-interest prevented dangerous ideas from spreading. Banshees were different. There could be no self-interest where there could be no self. Her arm trembled again, and she tried hard to knock the ring out of her hand. Jade thought she was a person. Wynne did, Elias did. There were times where all of them made Regan feel like, maybe, she could be one. But it was a veil she had chosen not to pull back, in Wicked’s Rest, surrounded by those who cared for her. She needed to pull it off now. 

But her body did not listen to her. The banshees did not listen to her. Wynne and the others did not listen to her. What was she supposed to do, listen to her strangled sense of self? Regan grabbed her wrist with her other hand, twisting violently, trying to get her bones to obey, but it felt instead like she might just break them. Something in her met her own intentions and resisted with enough force. When she and Jade had spoken of rings, Regan had thought of it as a promise. That had been a metaphor (which, she decided, she now hated). That must have been it. A promise. Of course she couldn’t break it. Only it didn’t feel like a physical wall, or like something had strung her up. But if it was a promise made in error (she buried the word deep in her mind after she had thought it), then it wasn’t– it wasn’t her fault that now she couldn’t– instead of the kerplunk she had wanted to hear, a screech whistled from between her teeth. 

“None of you are letting me– don’t you understand?” She was emphatic. Her face felt as it had when she was starved of oxygen, before Wynne showed up here. “I’m trying to be good! I’m trying to make sure I don’t hurt someone! The duty that I– do you think I care about serving something I don’t believe in half the time?” She couldn’t suck the words back in. But only Wynne was here to receive them. “Someday I’ll care. If this works. If I work. But I care about you, and Jade, and Elias, and my brothers, and keeping people safe. That’s why I can’t leave. You need to leave me so that I can leave you.” 

There was a kerplunk.

Regan’s eyes ticked to her outstretched arm. To her hand that had gestured as she was talking, turning sideways without her realizing it, and effortlessly allowing her ring to slide off her palm. Into the water. She hadn’t even felt it.

Her heart jumped quickly enough to shake off the ice. Regan’s gaze whipped to Wynne, now asking for their help, and she dove in after the vanishing flash of jade.

———

So it hadn’t been a metaphor. The way banshees learned – what, exactly, Wynne didn’t know – by being made to drown. They shuddered at the thought, wondered who it was that held Regan down — if it was her grandmother’s hand pushing down on her head or some other method used. At home, when they had learned to swim, it had been in small classes of peers, and though it did include being thrown in the deep end there had been something gentle about it all the same. Drowning served no purpose. The water was just that. A place for leisure. A source of food. A rippling thing of beauty. They stared at the lake and how the sun shone on it and they hated the banshees for making it a place of such ugliness. They hated Regan for speaking of it like it was something that was actually useful and needed. “I dislike you drowning. I dislike that you have to do that. No, that you think you have to do that.”

They shuddered, too, when Regan told them to move, but they felt their feet stand steadily in the mushy bottom of the lake. At home, they’d reach for that mush and throw it at each other while squealing in joy. A lake was a beautiful place. A source, not an end. Not a cruel lesson, a punishment. Not a room to be locked in, or reprimand, or a hand clashing against skin. “No.” There was something rare in their voice. Certainty, determination. Their eyes were as wide as always but they flashed with something harsher.  

And it almost faded from their eyes as Regan spoke of the way banshees lived so long (this was news to them, and so a truth they had to grapple with on top of all the other things — were some of the women they’d encountered over a hundred years old), but they kept their heels dug in the ground. They sunk a little. “If you really believed it why haven’t you thrown us in that pit yet? Why have you not screamed at me since? Why are you — Regan,” Their eyes grew a little wider at the sound of her first name coming from their mouth, “This cannot be it. This – you would not have left if you don’t understand that in some way. There are other banshees, aren’t there? And besides, even if things last long and have lasted long, that doesn’t make them right. Like, you know? Capitalism has existed for a long time. And kings, there have been kings and queens for more than centuries. Are those right? That is not a good argument. Just because something has been one way for a long time doesn’t make it right. You are bandaged and wet because you are trying to drown yourself and you think that is right? Why? Because people before you have done it? That is wrong. It is wrong.”

They fell silent, shocked at how loud their voice had gotten. They didn’t know a lot about the world, that was true. It had only been one and a half years since they had started broadening their horizons but they understood some things. They understood that some people were cruel. That power and control were both means to an end, even if they did not always understand that end. That the people at home had thought they were doing something right, even if they had raised them up to die, even when they had watched their brother get slaughtered. That the world existed in more gray tones than they had been taught, that it wasn’t all one extreme to another. They knew that it was important to feel like you belong. That feeling strange and unfamiliar to everything was isolating. They understood that it was scary to deviate, to run away and not look back. That even though there was something cowardly about doing that, it was also brave to abandon. They knew that sometimes love was the only thing that mattered, because everything else hurt and was scary and unfamiliar. These were the things they were certain of.

And sometimes that certainty was stirred, because they were certain too that to be convinced of something was not always to be right. 

They were quiet for a moment. “It hurts when you do this.” It was not meant to be accusatory, but it was in a way. Jade said she had been crying. Elias looked like something wounded. Van was upset. Nora had gotten in a suitcase. Regan’s brothers would wonder and wonder and wonder. 

The plop of something hitting the water had Wynne looking down, then back up at Regan. They didn’t understand what the ring signified, but it had to be something important considering how the other had struggled with the weight in her hand. How she looked at Wynne now.

And so Wynne followed into the water, pushing their body down. Back at home they’d throw down little trinkets and tried to dive them back up. Sometimes they got lost in the mud, only to be found a year later. Sometimes they got them, hands closing around the familiar feel. They swam down the way they had then, fingers petting the lake’s bottom, filled with death and life and the ring. Their fingers found it eventually after sifting through a few stones and they came up. Panting, they held out their hand for Regan. “Here,” they breathed, extending the ring. 

———

Regan had never heard Wynne speak in such a way – bold, demanding. Like she had told them to be, once upon a time. They said the same thing Elias had; if this was the fate that awaited them, why not get it over with? Why not stop trying? Neamh-roghnaithe. If Wynne of all people did not understand, then no human could. But that unfair though came tethered to another: please leave, please leave, please leave. It was only that single, simple sound of the last year of her life hitting the water that replaced everything else in her head with nothing but action.

Her lungs steeled themselves as soon as her head submerged. The water pulsed in her ears. You’re permitted to come back up, you’re permitted to breathe, she reminded herself, but panic was again quick to push out any rational thought. The lake wasn’t deep here, but small things drifted (small… how was this small?) and Regan still had to stir up the sediment, raking her fingers through detritus to find the one thing down here that mattered more than all of the fish bones and decomposition in Ireland. 

Her chest burned and she felt that familiar, creeping and then surging need to breathe. To open her mouth even (especially) if it meant letting the water in. This time, she scrambled to the surface before that happened, but she had nothing to show for it. No ring, just mud clinging between her fingers. Regan popped up intending to take in a quick gulp of oxygen before plunging back in, but Wynne stood there, dripping, the water curving around their waist, their hair sopping wet, their breathing heavy, and– Regan stared at their hand, the glistening ring in their palm like it had been no trouble at all. Her eyes stung – the water was obviously not clean – and she was able to convince herself that any additional precipitation was only from the lake.

“It fell, I didn’t mean to– I wasn’t– I mean, I was trying, but I couldn’t–” She had been so desperate to get away from that thing and now she couldn’t get it back quickly enough. Regan leaped through the water over to Wynne, grabbing it from their hand and fitting it right back on her finger. It felt like a phalanx clicking back into its proper place. In the same motion, her arms wrapped around Wynne’s thin shoulders and she exhaled the entire contents of her lungs, even feeling some of the water from earlier seemingly evaporate. “Thank you,” Regan whimpered, a sound and phrase so unbecoming here that it jarred her to hear it. She wobbled like an unsteady pillar. Enough to realize just what she was doing. Regan peeled herself away from Wynne like none of that had just happened, her eyes darting to the surface of the water. It was unassuming, the sun casting off of it through the clouds and mist, not at all like it had just almost taken everything from her.

“I’m not… a very good banshee. That’s the other way. Failure. Death.” Regan waded into the shallower water. She could see the bottom now, but she felt heavier with each step as her clothes became waterlogged and stuck to her skin the more she was exposed to the air. She looked over her shoulder for Wynne. Who was still there. Of course they were. She wasn’t sure why she’d felt the need to check. Wynne wasn’t the type to discard anyone in a lake. 

Regan’s shoulders sank and another one of those long, undulating breaths left her lips, like something was pressing against her throat from both sides. She flitted her wings a couple of times to make the water slide off them and finally let her gaze hang over Wynne. Wynne had started demanding. Regan was going to stop doing that, at least right now. “Jade gave… I think she…” As tired as she was, her tongue still fought her on a specific p-word. What came out instead made her sound more frog than banshee. So pathetic that she had not been able to form a whole sentence. “It’s a promise. And apparently not the kind that I… I thought I couldn’t do it because… it’s always been me, though. The problem. Not you. Me, and… this place.” Another heavy, difficult breath. She knew what she had to convey. She had known since she met Declan, since before, even. But she hadn’t been able to stomach it. “Thank you.” Regan’s jaw felt hingeless and she was silent for a moment. “Does your phone work?”

———

When Regan lurched at them they nearly jumped out of their skin, but it wasn’t something to stress about. The banshee took the ring and put it back in its place, around her finger and Wynne watched for a moment. They mindlessly fiddled with the ring they wore around their own finger, a gift from Ariadne that they touched more and more in these days of temporary separation. It had only been a week since they’d been apart and though they knew they would be reunited with her (or, at least, they had to be, they would be, it could not be that they weren’t) it felt like an eternity. 

They were surprised once more by Regan as she embraced her and spoke to them in a tone they had never expected from the doctor. Wynne stood there for a moment and then returned the embrace, hands maneuvering around the wings that had not been there back in Wicked’s Rest. They didn’t know what it meant, this moment of uncharacteristic closeness where Regan crossed some kind of barrier. Where she thanked them, which was something that fae didn’t tend to do. They let her go once she moved back and just watched her, quiet and silent and unsure at this new side of Regan. 

They followed the banshee with some distance, patient and silent. Wynne was a better listener than speaker, anyway. “Why should failure mean death? And why — I think you can decide what makes a good banshee. I think you are a good banshee.” But they weren’t exactly a great judge of banshees, considering they still barely understood what they were all about. Regan seemed different than the people here, though. She thought murder was wrong. She thought Wynne shouldn’t have died. She helped people when they were hurt. She understood something about death that they seemed to understand too, but it was different from these women who liked sacrifice and murder a lot. 

The topic swayed to Jade and now the ring made more sense. As context dawned on them they felt a little more sure again and as they wrung out some bits of their skirt, they let Regan talk. It was good to be patient, they’d learned. Patience was a good quality. It was one of the things they thought Padrig had been right about — that patience suited them well. It was clear that Regan was grappling with something, that there was a knot of inner conflict she was trying to undo and Wynne tried to imagine what it might have been like, had they returned home and left Ariadne behind. How mixed up everything would have been in their insides, then. They started stroking the water again. 

“Then you should hold onto the ring.” A beat. “Even if you stay.” It was a quiet concession. Wynne knew there was a potential at failure, that there was a reality where they managed to sway Nora to come home and leave this play. Where they’d run as they’d once had. “You’re welcome.” They gave a small smile and no more words. There was no room for any more speeches, no more words left in their chest. But they had what Regan was asking for and Wynne waded to the shore, waving their hands around for a bit to dry them before pulling their phone from their shoe and opening up their chat history with Jade. It was an assumption, but it was also something of a push in Regan’s back. They extended the phone, “Here you go.” 

———

If Wynne thought Regan was a good banshee, then they knew nothing of banshees, even after spending a couple of weeks here. Actually, she preferred it that way. It meant Wynne wasn’t often in the company of the locals. She let her feet drag her around a little, unsure and unsteady after that brief simultaneous holding that her skin still crawled with (and especially her wings, which were only grazed, but that was more than she ever would have permitted if she thought about it). Only the most infirm of humans required these holdings, and it was because they could not hold themselves up. Regan was not that. So why had she– well, there were those times when– no, she wasn’t going there. Except she was. Because she was holding onto the ring and because Wynne was handing their phone over and when Regan got the first glimpse of Jade’s profile, a quiet sob did leap up her esophagus. The assumption of Wynne’s did not escape Regan. The fact it was correct did not escape her either.

The ring hadn’t been the only promise – there was another. Regan had intended to keep Jade away, but now she realized it was keeping both of them rooted in place. Her fingers hovered over the strange keyboard (her old Blackberry was much easier to type on). Maybe… no. Or… no. She seethed with frustration again. Couldn’t the hazy sun dry her off any faster? Useless star, only able to keep the solar system glued together. Regan glanced over at Wynne, checking to see if they needed their phone, but they weren’t rushing this. It also, apparently, was not waterproof. So Regan shook her hand out a little, shedding droplets of water, and focused herself. Why was it that things that could be typed were not always the same as things that could be said?

Probably because of how dangerous this was. 

She kept pausing, deleting, pausing, turning to Wynne for reassurance she didn’t realize she had been seeking. Once, her hand slipped and it seemed like something happened but the message was still there. It happened again and the camera went on. Wynne had to help with that. Blackberries were better. 

Suggesting cremation to Declan had filled her with dread, the words fine individually, but forbidden when expressed together as a sentiment. It made her think a banshee could be behind any corner, they had eyes all over (never mind that she’d sense them). It made her disobedience contort her stomach and stain her mind enough that Cliodhna had picked up on it when Regan turned up there in the evening (yes, she examined the child for the other child; yes, he was suitable; yes, she needed to go upstairs and vomit into the toilet). This was twenty times worse.

Regan pressed SEND before she could make room for doubt – it wouldn’t be long, she could feel it pressing against her on all sides, waiting for a crack to appear. And she did create a lot of cracks. Talking to Wynne about what she had sent was even harder. But Regan couldn’t do this alone. She might not be able to do it at all. She looked left, then right, for good measure. Also up. She didn’t even want a bird or squirrel to hear this. The animal could die, and a banshee could extract this from them. It wouldn’t be the first time such talk spread in such a manner.

Regan gestured for Wynne to come closer and stayed hush. Every precaution. And even then, the words stuck to the inside of her mouth – Wynne had to pull them out with one of those soft, melty (too delicate it might break apart), human looks. Regan hesitated, then sped up, eager to get this over with. “The boy the ham child loves is going to die. We need to get the child out of here before that happens. The ham child, I mean. Not the boy. He is going to die. I mean, he is really going to die, there is no changing this. And I… I will try to explain this to her. Again. She needs convincing.” Wynne was listening, more attentive than ever, and she was no longer uncertain in saying all of this. Actually, Regan’s eyes sparked with more electricity than they had in weeks. She had a cause, a mission, something she cared about. “It isn’t working, what I am doing here. It isn’t you. It’s… but I don’t think I can leave.” She swallowed. She knew this. It was not a new thought. But saying it, expressing it as a would if I could, was more than a small slip in progress. “But… but if I can find a way, a way to help you three, and– maybe–” 

She could tell Wynne had hoped Regan would say all of them. That she was coming, too, considering how much they had dug their heels in before. This was the best Regan could do. A stuttered fragment of a distant possibility– but it was not an I will not go. It would also have to be enough. Out of the three who had come here for Regan, Wynne was the most likely who would be willing to leave without her, if it meant getting the ham child and Elias out safely. They had the most sense, even if today had been an excellent display of stubbornness. “It’s going to take a couple of days. Worm Remembrance Day is on…” Regan checked Wynne’s phone for the current day. “Thursday. All of the banshees will be gathered by the statue at sunset. Away from the cars.” Wynne would understand what she was saying. They had to, because the shame of disobedience was going to strike her down soon if she stated it any more plainly.

“I will try,” Regan said, handing Wynne their phone back – after one more quick message sent to someone who needed it. She hooked her towel up from the ground and made a half-hearted attempt to dry her hair off, but she still felt as wet as ever. “And I will think.”

[lorna-d-m]

Chapter Three: Popcorn Pillows

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!OC (Cecilia Anderson)

Summary: Meet Miguel O'Hara, a rugged bareback rider who could have had it all, and Cici Anderson, the spirited daughter of a stock contractor trapped in a toxic relationship. When fate brings them together for a dance, they see each other again and again.

Word count: 3,578

W: language, light male masturbation

Ao3 link

A/N: Anything that is italicized within the quotation marks is said in Spanish. If you want to be added to the taglist you can comment or fill out the google form here

Shorter this time, but we're building to some good stuff :)

previous chapter

It was easy to fall into patterns. Miguel texted her good morning at 5:00 A.M. before he went to the gym, the pale pink and orange sunrise in his eyes. Cici responded an hour later with her first cup of coffee for the day in hand, her manicured nails wrapped around the sugary sweet cup. At lunch, she’d ask how he was doing, what competitions he had lined up, and how Gabriel was since she had a soft spot for him. 

He would always say alright, never divulging too much, send her screenshots of his schedule, and tell her whatever mischief or dumbass comments Gabriel made. Miguel insisted Gabriel spoke cryptically in memes just to piss him off. Cici laughed and explained what a “gyat” was before her lunch break ended, biting her tongue before she said he should know because he has one. 

In the evening, he sent pictures of the meals he cooked. Fresh, homecooked, made with love. Roasted meat and vegetables from the grill; she pictured him holding a spatula in one hand and a beer in the other, his jeans snug, and an apron tied around his waist. Cici responded positively, putting little hearts on the messages and telling him how jealous she was. Cici texted goodnight from her mountain of satiny pink pillows, glad he finally slept in a bed, too.

If they were in the same town for the weekend, they tried to meet up despite their busy schedules. Miguel brought her coffee every morning, leaving it with her sister or cousin if she was busy. Cici paid for any meals they ate together whether it was lunch from a greasy food truck or dinner at a five-star restaurant.  

Miguel was consistent, and Cici relied on that steadiness. 

***

Before, Cici might’ve missed the bareback events to speak with a sponsor or organizer. Now, she made sure she was seated in the cold metal stands with her notebook ready to keep track of scores before the anthem started. She watched Miguel in the staging area, neon tape on his hand from the physios, and she knew more snaked its way up his arm.

Bareback riding was like riding a jackhammer with one hand. A good ride would leave him sore and bruised, not to mention what a bad one would do. And yet, Miguel would climb back on night after night. He tended to mask his pain around Cici, but she knew from her brother’s glory days how much it hurt. 

He took his place, climbing up on the metal slats of the fence, to watch the opening ceremony. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought he searched the crowd for someone the way his eye roamed the stands.  

So far this season, Miguel was on the up and up. He stayed in the top five despite cutting the number of events he attended. With Gabriel, he limited his schedule, sticking closer to home or booking red-eye flights. Cici wished him good luck every time, whether she caught him before she climbed up the stands or if she sent him a text. Miguel would chuckle darkly and insist he needed more than luck, but he appreciated it all the same.

The cameras panned to Miguel on the broad back of an old mare. She snorted and shook, the dry dirt coming up like powder, but he dug into her neck. Miguel was calm, cool, and collected, his black shirt embroidered with sponsors from Wrangler to dairy companies. He wore his pale leather chaps, the fringes a stark contrast to his dark ensemble, meant to draw spectators' eyes. Cici chuckled, he never wore the flashy reds and golds, but he still stood out in his own way.

Sweat trickled out from underneath his black hat, sticking to his temples and plastering stray strands of hair to his cheek. His face flushed from the late summer heat and the stadium lights. Miguel nodded once, signaling he was ready.

Cici watched Miguel on the big screen. His form needed to be perfect due to his size and stature. Most riders were smaller, more compact, and lighter than Miguel. If his knees or toes were out of place by an inch, the judges would see it and dock his points. But, he needed to take risks, too, and encourage the horse to open up. Announcers praised Miguel for doing both where others failed.

He rode well that sticky, summer night, but his horse did not kick or buck despite his heels in her side and her ornery nature. Cici tried to calculate his score and how far he would drop in the standings when she realized his hand was caught in the rigging. The rodeo clowns swept in from the fences to pick him up, but he couldn’t get free.

Cici’s heart caught in her throat. Miguel repeatedly wrested at his wrist. She couldn’t see the panic in his eyes, but she could feel it pouring from him. The pick-up man’s arms came under his shoulders to grab him. Cici grimaced when they yanked him free, dragging him to the hard ground. Reddish brown dirt clung to his clothes, and he scrambled up, clutching his wrist to his chest. Miguel would hurt later, physically and emotionally, after he saw his score. 

Miguel didn’t want to talk to any camera crews or journalists. The suits would ask him what happened tonight, as if they all didn’t see it, and expect him to say something about trying harder next time, this wasn’t his night, and he looked forward to the next one. 

He slammed his locker shut, pissed off he couldn’t get the bottle of ibuprofen open with one hand, and resigned himself to saying as few words as possible. He’d grunt and grumble for the cameras before skulking off to his dingy motel room to lick his wounds.

His watch buzzed on his way to the press conferences, and he would’ve ignored it if he hadn’t seen Cici’s name pop up on the screen. Miguel never ignored Cici, unlike some people, he thought bitterly.

Cici: You’re probably not in the mood to go out to dinner like we planned, but what about takeout and a movie at my hotel room instead?

Cici: Feels like I’ve barely seen you all weekend, and I want to check on you 🫶No worries if you want to raincheck

Fuck. She still wanted to see him? After that piss-poor performance? Even the buckle bunnies in their Ariat boots and skintight jeans wouldn’t go near him. They’d flock to the high scorer of the night: Kron Stone. He could already see him smiling for the cameras, his artificially whitened teeth blinding them to what an asshole he was. But fuck Kron, and fuck feeling sorry for himself. The princess, Cici Anderson, wanted to see him. 

Miguel: What do you want to eat?

Cici: Whatever you want :) You can pick tonight you earned it

Miguel: There’s a shockingly good little taquería not far from here. Pretty sure they know me now.

Cici: Love it! I’ll see you tonight

She sent her hotel and room number, insisting anytime was fine so long as he sent her a text or a call when he was on his way. His shoulders relaxed, and he unclenched his jaw. He might not fake a smile for the cameras yet, but he wouldn’t scowl either.

***

Miguel knew the Andersons’ were in a different tax bracket, but seeing the hotel they stayed in reaffirmed that. Valet parking, vaulted ceilings with exposed wood beams, and 24/7 concierge in the plush lobby. The valet thought he was an UberEats delivery driver and refused to take his truck keys until he mentioned Cici’s name. 

A pristine elk’s head hung above the stone fireplace in the lobby, and he couldn’t shake the feeling it judged him. His gray sweatpants and hoodie felt out of place amongst the leather and stone. It was a far cry from the faded and worn motels he favored, saving every dollar he earned on the road. Lyla, his financial assistant, promised he could afford this, but he felt it was a silly luxury.

He knocked awkwardly on her door, his good hand holding the takeout bag. He hoped she would come quickly. Miguel felt like the embellished walls were watching him, telling him he didn’t belong here with her. He almost chickened out and ran, looking longingly at the elevator down the hall, when she opened the door.

Miguel drew back. He never saw Cici like this: soft, fluffy white robe, her blonde ringlets drawn back with some flowery product soaking in, and a pale green mud masking her face. His eyes widened, not sure if this surprised him or if he should’ve realized this was how a princess would get ready for bed.

“Am I early? I can wait if you need to finish up.”

“No, no,” Cici insisted, a smile flashed across her lips, “I got distracted. Don’t worry about it.” She stepped aside so he could enter. 

Curiously, his eyes swept the room. It was a sweet suite, with overstuffed seats, ornate curtains, and detailed lighting. He heard the bathroom fan humming in the background, and soft pop music playing from her phone. 

“I have a lap desk around here somewhere we can put the food on.” Cici padded barefoot around the room, looking for it, while Miguel stood to the side out of her way. “Here it is, and then if you want to get comfy and pick something to watch I’ll go rinse all this out,” she gestured to her face and hair.

Although the luxurious bed was king-sized, he hesitated to get in. This night was far more intimate than he thought it would be, and he didn’t want to inadvertently cross that line. She has a boyfriend, he kept reminding himself, even if he was a useless dick.

“Where’s the remote?” He called out. 

The faucet paused, but her music didn’t. Cici sang along under her breath until she poked her head out of the bathroom. “Should be somewhere on the nightstand?” 

No, that was the first place he checked. He looked at the oak side tables, then the counters, and he still didn’t see it. He’d need to be more creative. So, he pulled back the sheets, thinking it might’ve got lost when the maids remade the bed.

Well, well, well… Miguel found the remote, as well as her purple dildo and pink little vibrator. Blood rushed to his face and his dick. Cici said she got distracted, could this be why? He gave himself eight seconds to look at them, imagining her playing with herself in this very bed, before covering them with the 1,000 thread count sheets. Any longer than eight seconds and he wouldn’t be able to hide his boner.

“Did you find it?” 

Miguel’s head snapped up, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Cici glowed in the warm light, soft and hazy. She shed her robe and revealed a lavender sleep set with short shorts and a strappy little tank top. This only made his mental image stronger, thinking how easy it would be to slide the straps off her shoulders and the shorts to the side.

“Yeah,” he stammered, “nightstand, like you said.” He slowly and discretely moved the sheets to cover his lap. She slid into bed beside him, and he resisted the urge to lean in and sniff. Sweet, like sugar and vanilla. His teeth ached; he wanted to take a bite.

“Good! I should chastise you for wearing outside clothes in bed, but I’m too hungry to worry about that. Now show me what you got.”

 He made a mental note if he was ever invited back to bring a separate set of clothes. Miguel could’ve been stewing by himself with a case of beers, or worse, but Cici sought time with him. He needed to do right by her.

“Wouldn’t want you wasting away…”

Miguel took his time showing her all his favorites: a variety of tacos and sopes, empanadas and chimichurri he could never resist, fresh chips, queso, and guacamole he figured she would like, and two slices of tres leches since she insisted he get food that would cheer him up. He brought a feast, figuring he might as well cheat on his diet.

Cici munched on chips while he flicked through the channels. A bead of queso stuck to her lip, and he did his best to ignore what it looked like. He landed on Jurassic Park, still on the opening credits. Miguel knew the movie like the back of his hand, watching it at least a dozen times and reading the original book, and he couldn’t resist nerding out. Cici encouraged him, letting him add the trivia and behind-the-scenes info that anyone else would’ve told him to shut up about. 

Cici moved closer to him, leaning slightly on his shoulder. Grimacing, he pulled back at her touch, and she mistook his withdrawal for physical pain rather than emotional. 

Her eyes trailed from his shoulder down to his hand, black and blue and rubbed raw. She chewed her bottom lip. “Do you want some pain med? I’ve got some Ibuprofen and some Tylenol stashed away.”

His instinct was to brush her off, but she looked so damn concerned. A furrow in her brow, her blue eyes turned glassy, and her hand wavered near his. He relented, seeing how much she wanted to help him, and it did hurt. 

She scurried away for pain medicine, and she returned with an armful of goodies. Miguel arched an eyebrow. “What’s all this?”

“I figured anything I gave Nick after he took a beating you might appreciate, too. I’ve got Tylenol, Ibuprofen, and Advil. This is a heating pad I keep tucked away in my suitcase, and some icy hot if your muscles are sore.”

He whistled appreciatively, eyeing the Ibuprofen. Miguel thought of the bottle stuck in his duffle bag he couldn’t open. Cici caught his eye and asked if he wanted some. Bashful, he nodded his head. 

Cici sat back down in bed beside him, her shoulder pressed to his, and her hair brushing against him. Miguel could still smell her sugary products, and he clenched his jaw. He flexed his hand open and closed, distracting himself from leaning in and sniffing her, or worse, licking along her neck. Miguel wondered if she tasted as sweet as she smelled. 

“Is your hand bothering you? Do you want me to rub it?”

Fuck. Cici didn’t even know what she was saying to him, or at least, how he heard it. “It’s fine,” he insisted, his hand frozen at his side. “Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have,” she said matter-of-factly, “but that doesn’t mean you have to refuse any help.”

Miguel rolled his eyes and held his hand out to her. If Cici wanted to be so persistent, then who was he to stand in her way? She spread some of her lotion on his hand, rich with cinnamon and vanilla, and gingerly pressed against the palm of his hand. Her thumb rubbed slow circles against him. 

Fuck… He bit his tongue, holding back a moan. Cici’s gentle touch both soothed him and riled him up. She was so careful and precise, her fingers moving gently over his hand and wrist. Miguel was grateful her eyes were glued to the screen so she wouldn’t see how his face flushed and his dick twitched. 

She focused on his hand and wrist, soothing the irritated skin and muscles. Miguel couldn’t remember the last time someone cared for him. His last serious relationship was years ago, and his mother was never an affectionate person. Cici made it so damn hard for him not to develop feelings for her, more than friendship feelings, and he cursed himself for letting it go so far.

Within twenty minutes, she was asleep, curled up next to him, her head on his shoulder and her hand tangled in his. Miguel let her stay there until the credits rolled. Why bother her?

“Cici,” Miguel rasped, nudging her side, “it’s over.” 

She blinked slowly, embarrassed she fell asleep. Miguel was the one who took a beating, and here she was nodding off against his shoulder. Cici took a deep breath in, and his cologne overpowered her senses. “Sorry,” sleep slurred her words, “you could’ve woken me up.” 

He shrugged, handing her the remote. “You need your beauty sleep, princess.”

She resisted the urge to smack him with a pillow as he climbed out of bed. But, Cici stayed put, too comfortable to move. “How long are you going to call me princess?”

“Until you stop acting like one,” Miguel smirked as he stepped out of her reach. She watched him crouch down to lace his shoes, and he checked his pockets for his keys and wallet. 

Cici checked the time and her notifications, pausing her scrolling to look back at him. “I know I fell asleep, but I had a nice time. We don’t always have to go out, if you don’t want to.”

His voice softened, and he avoided her eyes. “Me too, anytime.”

“Text me when you get back to your hotel.” She pulled the covers to her chin, colder now without him. “I’d hate to think you hit a deer and were lying in a ditch somewhere.”

Miguel chuckled deeply, his chest rumbling. “I appreciate it. Have a good night, princess.”

Cici needed to think of a good nickname to get back at him, but she was too tired at the moment. She settled with something simple, her usual for him, “Goodnight, Miggy.” 

He left, his gigantic frame blocking the hallway light from spilling in through the door. She curled up against the pillows, absorbing the last of the warmth from where he sat. Cici didn’t realize how cold she was until he left. As much as Miguel teased her, she did need her beauty sleep, and competition weekends were grueling for her, too. She was ready to go back to sleep.

Knocking on the door disturbed her, and she wondered what Miguel could’ve forgotten. She shivered when she stood, wishing she hadn’t left her robe in the bathroom, and crossed to open the door. Instead, she found Nick with a troubled face and a milkshake in his hand.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

Cici stepped aside to let him in. She gestured for him to sit in one of the armchairs, but he brushed her off, standing by the door instead. His blue eyes, the same as hers, scanned the room, pausing on the takeout containers. He was making her nervous, and she wanted him to get on with it. 

“Everything alright?” 

“Just,” he sighed, shuffling his booted feet and avoiding her eyes, “be careful with Miguel, okay?”

Cici’s eyebrows furrowed together, and she crossed her arms. “What do you mean?”

Exasperated, Nick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Exactly what I said, Cici, be careful.” He dropped his hand and looked at her sympathetically. “He has a reputation, and if you keep hanging out with him, people are going to talk.”

Cici huffed. “We’re friends, nothing more. People can say whatever they want to say. But he and I both know it’s nothing more than friendship, and it never will be.” 

Cici wasn’t stupid. She knew what people thought, and she didn’t care. They were wrong.

He lowered his voice and his eyes flicked toward the door. “Does he know that? Does Josh know that?”

Cici’s blood boiled. How dare he? “I don’t appreciate your tone, Nick, and if that’s all you have to say, I’d like for you to leave my room.” 

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m just looking out for you.” Nick hesitated in the doorway, his heavy hand gripping the frame. “I don’t want to see you get hurt by him or what people say.” 

“Thanks for your concern.” Cici closed and bolted the door, but she could still hear Nick muttering curses under his breath.

Admittedly, Miguel panicked when he saw Nick in the elevator. Nick was returning when Miguel was leaving, and he did the awkward head nod to acknowledge him. Nick reciprocated, and Miguel tapped the close door button as inconspicuously as he could. 

He texted Cici when he parked in the hotel parking lot, as promised. Didn’t see a single deer, just an armadillo that has seen better days. She put a little heart on the message and sent a gif of a sleeping crescent moon. Not that he would be sleeping anytime soon…

Guilt didn’t stop him from jerking off to her. For every “she has a boyfriend” or they’re “just friends”, he imagined her soft, pale thighs spread wide, her brows creased in focus, and the little drop of mouth. He fantasized about the sweet, needy little sounds she would make as she fucked herself silly. He saw her toys, which would only be the warm-up for him, and he thought of her crying out for him.

Miguel wasn’t even fully satisfied, huffing and puffing, one hand pressed against the tile shower wall, and the other wrapped around his cock, cum spilling across his fingers. 

“Fuck…” he moaned, his head hanging and his chest heaving.

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

[fionajames]

HIIIIII may I request some… angst… please? 😭 the unimaginable was too gooooood!!!!

hey guys this is angst as requested. the lyrics in this are from the song 'See You Again' by Wiz Khalifa and Charlie Puth. i recommend listening to it as u read.

This song actually means a lot to me and I cried a tear whilst listening to it writing this. I first heard it several months before my Grandad's death. Since then, I've lost a lot of loved ones, this song means a lot to me.

T/W: Death, Order 66.

It’s been a long day without you, my friend

Ahsoka stood, glossy-eyed at the helmets bearing her markings, buried in the dust. She thought of Jesse, who was always her friend. Until the last moment, when he’d turned on her. 

She’d felt it in the Force, Anakin’s death - she presumed. 

She’d reached out into the Force instinctively feeling for Obi-Wan, only to reconnect the strands with the dozens of other Jedi, all in pain and betrayal. She hadn’t been able to reach her old Grandmaster, retracting herself from the Force the minute she felt the pain. Ahsoka threw up a mental shield around herself, a desperate bubble of protection.

Rex stood next to her as they moved back to the ship, climbing in silently and setting course for a nearby planet. She watched the blue fly by, her heart panging as she saw a glimpse of his eyes, his lightsaber. 

Rushing off to the Chancellor’s aid, that was the last she’d seen of him.

That was the last she’d ever see of him.

And I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again

Obi-Wan wrapped his robe around himself tighter, a tear sliding down his cheek as Beru sent him a last, sad smile before disappearing into her home with Luke in her arms and Owen at her side.

Obi-Wan turned away, walking slowly off into the distance. When he’d walked away from Anakin’s burning body, he’d reached tentatively out into the Force, in search of his former Grandpadawan. He’d been met with a wall of nothingness, the same kind of nothingness you felt when someone was dead.

He’d lost both his brother, sister and best friend in one day.

He thought miserably of the shell of a man he called his brother he’d left behind.

The guilt was eating at him like a starved beast.

He clambered down into a canyon of sand and stone, ignoring the scrapes on his hands and the tears rolling down his face. 

Jedi weren’t supposed to feel attachment, and he knew it, but now the Jedi were gone, so who was stopping him?

We’ve come a long way from where we began

Ahsoka thought back to her first meeting with Anakin and Obi-Wan. The arrogant version of Anakin she’d first met had turned more playful than rude in a matter of days.

She thought of the pain she’d first experienced, the tiring nature, the fear.

Jedi weren’t supposed to feel fear, but Ahsoka was no longer a Jedi.

She was never destined to be, she now realised.

She was destined to watch the fall of the Jedi, but not to be one that fell. 

The Order was gone, and that was unnatural to Ahsoka.

She thought back to the days of roaming the hallways of the Temple, both of her brothers at her side. She’d never thought of the fall of the Order. She’d wondered about them perhaps losing the war, but never a fall. Anakin and Obi-Wan were powerful, sometimes she’d feared for the deaths, but never the both of them.

She now realised that was why it hurt so much, she hadn’t expected the fall, much less the death of her brothers.

Oh, I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again

Obi-Wan thought of the last mission they’d done together, him and Anakin. His head throbbed from the mere thought of being knocked unconscious by Dooku. He thought of the way they’d fought together, brothers side by side.

He thought of Onderon, the last mission all three of them had done. He remembered the abrupt fear on Ahsoka’s face when she’d heard they were leaving. Obi-Wan knew she was ready, but she didn’t believe that.

He thought of the days they spent together, brothers and sister, on the battlefield, on Coruscant, on different planets post-battle. 

The days of cheer, joy, happiness, something he missed so much. 

Never had he ever thought, during one of these times, about how much he would miss them.

He wondered if Ahsoka’s death had been painless, he hoped it had. He thought of how she would have felt the same feeling of utter betrayal he’d held when Cody had shot him. He thought of Rex, and how he would feel after killing his sister.

When I see you again

Ahsoka sat down on the bed. Her and Rex had arrived hours before on the planet, and rented a small house. She collapsed, her head in her hands as tears slipped between her fingers. 

Obi-Wan slumped to the floor in the cave he was sheltering in, face buried in his arms. Tears rolled down his cheeks and onto the floor, creating small puddles in the dust and sand.

Ahsoka reached out into the Force with her last speck of hope. She reached for Anakin, then Obi-Wan, then Plo. All she felt was the same pain and nothingness.

Obi-Wan reached out for Ahsoka, in hopes of discovering a flicker of life. All he felt was the same nothingness and pain he’d felt when Anakin’s life had slipped away.

They sat in silence, only interrupted by the occasional sob.

Anakin reached out, for Obi-Wan and then Ahsoka. He felt a flicker of subtle life of Obi-Wan, and then the cold nothingness of Ahsoka. 

Three people, broken to pieces, unaware of each other.

Three people, against the universe.

Three people, separated.

'We'll be alright, as long as we stay together.'

hope you enjoyed, please send requests, im desperate!!!

take care of urself <3

taglist: @techs-goggles9902, @transmascanakin, @skellymom

[astrobei]

Hello Suni astrobei. For end of year asks, I ask you 2 and 12

hi abby strangeswift !! ok so i got a couple asks for 2 so i’m going to answer that one elsewhere so i can focus my full attention on Gushing !

12. talk about a new friend you made this year

ok i’m about to get seriously so sappy so if you don’t feel like reading through all this feel free to Leave (no hard feelings LOL)

i’m someone who has a pretty small social circle irl so i never thought i’d meet so many wonderful ppl this year, and definitely not online and definitely not because i started writing fanfiction again LOL like if u told january suni this she’d look at u like 👁👁 on a more serious note though this year was insane for me. so much changed really quickly in my life and i’m so beyond grateful that amidst all the chaos i was led to all of u guys ! literally if we’ve had even one conversation on here there’s a very high chance i’ve referred to u as a friend irl so. do with that what u will.

abby and ella (@elekinetic) and sierra (@finalgirlbyers) i want u guys to know that i treasure u all So Much. like even if our convos are sporadic or if we talk exclusively through asks ur presence on my dash brings me so much joy and i look forward to each post u make and each message and each ask and each incoherent ramble in the tags !! i don’t have Favorite Mutuals but if i did it would be u guys because it’s insane how much i light up seeing ur urls ! i hope 2023 brings so many more wonderful interactions w u guys, u rly make my mindless scrolling on tumblr 100x more fun

yvie @nnilkyway HELLO i am so so beyond grateful i met them this year ! what a strange stroke of luck too bc i was so obsessed w their art before we met and hearing him say he was a big fan of my work was like. mind boggling. anyways yvie is literally one of the funniest people i have ever met in my life oh my god it’s so rare for me to find people whose sense of humor just Clicks with mine but like. four messages in and we were sending each other memes and becoming best friends and it was fantastic! i have never once felt weird or intimidated talking to them which is crazy for me, a person who feels weird and intimidated a Lot, and also need i reiterate his INSANE TALENT !! like holy shit ! my go to person for talking about gf mike wheeler or mitski or literally just anything and everything. yvie if you’re reading this i am putting u in my pocket and holding u so close. mwah. also we are married, btw. if anyone cares.

haven @bookinit02 OK. you all have heard me gush about haven a million and one times on this blog and i’m sure you’ve seen her gush about me because she’s (rightfully) obsessed with me (/j. kind of) but haven was the first friend i ever made in the byler community which is so so beyond insane to me. i fell in love with her writing so instantaneously and you guys should’ve been there to see my reaction when i saw her leave her first comment on my fic. literally screamed it was so embarrassing 😭 we talked exclusively through ao3 comments for a while because she’d yell every time i updated ihcisc and i’d yell every time she updated her season 2 rewrite and then one day she dm’d me asking me to make a twt to add me to a byler gc and the rest was History. anyways haven is one of the most talented most creative people i’ve ever met BUT she’s also one of the sweetest and most compassionate people on the face of this planet and deserves nothing but good things always ! she’s one of those people that i need to talk to every day or i’ll go insane and i love how our convos can speedrun the entire human spectrum of emotions within like. 5 minutes. she’s so incredibly supportive and my #1 hype girl and she has the freaky ability to entirely turn my mood around on a bad day in less than 20 seconds. she literally managed to sleuth around and find my venmo just to send me soup money. if i could buy her Everything then i literally would. i would eat cilantro for her. i would watch the mlvn makeout scene for her. i would get my socks wet for her. literally i would do anything for her and i can’t wait until i see her in june and i chase her in circles around the airport and then we kiss👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽 and we Hug so tight and platonically 🫂

thea @wiseatom u already know. i tell her every day that i would do literally anything she asked of me and it’s true! literally 2 minutes ago she said “suni u should dye ur hair green” and for a moment i seriously considered it. anyways thea is objectively the funniest fucking person i have ever met in my life and is also my twin. if my twin were blond and taller and also a different age. in all seriousness though thea feels like the world’s most insane older sister to me and as an Actual older sister i’m really loving the feral little sibling treatment. she’s so insane easy to talk to (probably bc our brains work in the exact same way) and Oozes talent from literally every single cell in her body. she sends me a snippet of her work and i spend the next 10 minutes rolling on the floor trying not to SCREAM. there are so few people who can make me laugh as much as she does but also turn me into a blubbering mess of a baby with her Evil Cruel Prose 2 seconds later but thea wiseatom has been put on this planet to achieve the impossible. i have rarely felt so seen as i do when i talk to her, whether it’s for advice or Wallowing or complaining about our disproportionately large heads together, she is so kind and supportive and one of my favorite people Ever. i can’t believe the universe put her 3000 miles away from me because i Need to be a menace to her in person but we’ll make it work. every day i say goodnight to her at 8 pm my time and then say good morning to her at 2 am my time and then i go to bed <3 thea if you’re reading this (and u better be. i tagged u) i hope u know that u are the light of my life and i am packing my bindle as we speak to begin the cross country trek. mwah.

@andiwriteordie ANDI ! i miss talking to u every day but u are so busy with ur big girl job and cranking out quality fics at light speed so i’ll give u a pass 😔 andi is literally a legend in the byler fic community so when i found out she Knew Who I Was,,, i died. i literally died. even when we haven’t talked in a while i love how we can pick up a convo like nothing has changed or send posts that remind us of each other or go crazy apeshit in each others tags like there’s no tomorrow !! andi is so so inspirational to me, she is so kind and creative and full of positivity (even if her writing is mean and full of Sadness and Misery. still haven’t forgiven u for descent, btw) she feels like my other older sister and she has such an insane way with words that i will never understand ! thank u for singlehandedly keeping byler tumblr going, i hope 2023 is so kind to u and u get ultra promoted and have so much fun at the eras tour like u deserve <3

moon aka @smoosnoom omg ok not only is moon so crazy talented but she is such! a sweet person! back when i started writing for byler she was such an enigma to me, an ao3 user and a total Mystery, so i never expected us to actually talk and now! here we are! she is so uplifting and supportive and i’ve loved getting to know her over the past few months, whether it’s bonding over our shared hatred (affectionate. mostly) of finn wolfhard or bawling our eyes out to everything everywhere (oh my god.) seeing her comment on my first fic literally made my heart stop dead in my chest. she has such a gift for making everyone feel so immediately accepted and welcome in any space, and i will spend the rest of my life stewing in anger that she’s taller than me. that feels extremely, unfathomably illegal. anyway moon if ur reading this (and u also better be! bc i tagged u!!) i hope the new year is so good to u <3 mwah ily

[hirokiyuu]

i mentioned on the dys>sol/nomi i was gonna be posting more of my fic backlog on here and then Did Not Do That..... until now! have some dys>sol>cal. 'you sure write a lot of dys>sol where sol likes other people' yeah. yeah. i won't lie to you guys tho this run does eventually end w/dys/sol but. u kno. takes a bit :)

aaaaanyways please enjoy this Unrequited Teen Angst WWWWWWW set during early year 16!

is that the sun i see (or am i just being greedy); 700 words

Sol’s weirdly moody on the transport. Usually even if he’s quiet, he’ll be fiddling with his holopalm or listening to music or something, but today he’s in the very back, just staring out at the scenery, and when their eyes meet for half a second he doesn’t even smile. Sol always smiles when he sees Dys, which honestly used to kind of weird him out but these days… does not do that.

Still, as the team files out of the transport and breaks off into pairs, Dys keeps an eye on him instead of scouting ahead like normal -- which ends up being a good thing, because after about fives minutes out by themselves Sol suddenly lets out an enormous groan and slumps over, hunched in over himself. And Dys can’t feel fear but his heart’s pounding anyways as he runs over, careful to keep an eye on their surroundings as he leans over and says, urgently, “Sol, what --”

The moment his hand touches Sol’s back Sol jumps, enough to send himself falling back on his ass in the dirt, eyes wide with surprise like he hadn’t heard Dys sprinting towards him. “Dys?” he sputters, before glancing around. “I thought -- I mean, don’t you normally go on ahead…?”

He doesn't look hurt at all, though on closer inspection there’s bags under his eyes Dys’s never seen on his face before. “I mean,” says Dys, who can’t bring himself to say I was worried about you, “you were acting weird, so….”

“Oh,” says Sol, before managing a tiny grin up at him. “That’s… that’s really nice of you. Thanks.”

“Whatever.” Ugh. He can feel his stupid face going red. The worst part is that he can’t even leave, not with how Sol’s smile is still wobbling at the edges. “...Are you okay?”

“Oh, well, um… I mean, that’s….” The smile slides off Sol’s face piece by piece, until he gives up on it all at once and sighs miserably, pulling his knees in close until he’s curled up on himself in the dirt. “No.”

Dys… can’t even pretend to be surprised. Slowly he sits down next to Sol, watching as Sol leans forward to rest his chin on his arms, for once not even fidgeting. “...It’s stupid,” says Sol, finally. “It’s really stupid, and you’re gonna think it’s stupid too. But… if I tell you… can you pretend you don’t think it is? Just for like, ten minutes.”

This already sounds like it’s going to suck. “...Okay. I won’t… say anything, I guess.”

“Thanks.”

The moment drags out. Dys picks a little at a hangnail, waiting. Finally, Sol sighs again, and doesn’t quite look at Dys as he says, “Cal and Tammy are dating.”

“...Oh.”

“He told me on my birthday.” Sol tilts even further forward, until his face is buried in his arms, and with a muffled voice says, “Like, he knocked on the door and she was there and he had his hand on her back. And she’d made me a cake, which was like, nice or whatever, but it was so unbearable just seeing them together and I just -- I just had to sit there and pretend I was happy for them….

“Apparently she asked him out during Glow? Like, after the attack? And I saw them together in the lounge but I didn’t even realize….” There is, horrifyingly, a sniffing noise. “Stupid… stupid Fennec Face. She’s not… she’s not even that cute, and she’s afraid of everything, and I… I….”

Another sniff. Dys is probably the person least equipped to deal with this in the entire colony, not in the least because he heard Cal was dating someone else and his first reaction was gratitude. “...Sorry,” he offers up, finally. “That… that sucks.”

“Yeah,” says Sol, as he burrows deeper into his arms. “I… I just… I really like him. Y’know?”

Quietly, Dys answers, “I know.”

In response Sol just lets out this big shuddering sigh, somehow burrowing even deeper. “Sorry,” he says. “I know it’s stupid. I… Sorry.”

Dys can’t think of anything to say to that, can’t think of a single thing that might make Sol feel a little better. Instead of trying anyways he just sits there like an idiot, keeping half an eye on the planet around them to make sure they don’t get eaten by anything, and next to him Sol doesn’t move for a long, long time.

[cnohpytxyz]

HHL 4

prologue | HHL1 | HHL2 | HHL3

synopsis: C deals with her heat while her bond is near by, Ben struggles to feel safe in his new home, Terry misses C.

word count: 5598

genre: werewolves, my own take on A/B/O, female OCs, domestic bullshit

warnings: s*xual themes, pretty graphic bl**d/c*m descriptions, pessimistic thoughts (not extreme), mentions of gay s*x in a poor light, weird ass simping from multiple characters

notes: while editing this ff I was trying to think of a way to pass the bechdel test. imagine my surprise (/s) when I reread and find I passed it in the first chapter .-. guess it's not as hard as some people think it is.

~/*\~

This is torture. C thought as she was tossed into the nth scenario of the week. 

Someone—probably Beah—thought it would be funny to set her bond up in an apartment near her heat room. He couldn't have been far. C supposed he was in the octagon, maybe a thousand or so yards away. If she had a window, she might have been able to see into his new home.

Thank God she couldn't.

Ben had moved in about a week after their initial meet and, for the past five days, he'd been dreaming up various ways to fuck his brains out...

…and hers, much to her dismay.

After the first day, C was grateful when the sun went down, assuming he’d be going to sleep. And he did. He definitely slept, but apparently his unconscious mind was just as thirsty because the following few hours were a miserable mix of lust and absurdity who in their right mind considered Cats: the Musical fap material that couldn’t quite get her to cum. 

It had been years since she’d had sex—not that it bothered her most days—but that night she found herself clawing at the thick metal door, begging to be released from her prison. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately, now that she was a little more clear headed) the room was soundproofed, so no one heard her desperation. 

She had never cried from an orgasm before, but, holy hell, C found herself downright sobbing when Beomgyu finally released into his hand at 4AM that first night, her own orgasm flowing in sync. Some time during the following days, she had tried to close the bond only to fail time after time. She didn’t know if it was because of his proximity or because of her own weakness, but there was no stopping the images from flooding her mind. Those nights were miserable. 

Tonight didn’t seem like it would be much better, but, luckily for her, Terry and Kai had taken Beomgyu to explore the compound for the day. The few hours she got alone helped her calm down a bit. She tentatively tried to close the bond.

No dice.

C felt desperate tears prick her lash line as she realized there'd be at least three more days of various sexual scenarios she couldn’t control if she got turned on by Sonic and Mario one more time she might lose her damn mind. 

Usually her knotting dildo (specially made to take care of Lupina heats) would do the job just fine. It wasn’t enough to satisfy the mating urge, but it kept her skin from burning. 

Now though… 

Sigh…

Now it was useless. Granted, she hadn’t been satisfied during a heat in a long ass time and Beomgyu’s fantasies certainly delivered, but, damn, the time and images it took to get there was the absolute worst. It felt like she was back in Russia and strapped to that table again… deprived of touch with satisfaction just out of reach. 

She shook her head. It was useless to focus on those things now, and it wasn’t like it was completely awful. 

Just a little awful. A smidgen of… awful.

A moan cut through her thoughts and C belatedly realized she was on the verge of another orgasm. Even when she tried to focus on other topics, Beomgyu had her body in a chokehold. But if his fantasies were any suggestion, she wasn’t the only one.

No pun intended, she vaguely thought, as the image of her hand around his throat consumed her thoughts. She could almost feel his pulse under her palm when she leaned down to whisper in his ear, “You like that, pup? ” C groaned, gritty with lust and a good helping of cringe (she’d find time to gag at those words later), suddenly very thankful for her upcoming “business trip”. 

She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to look him in the eye without either combusting or punching him in the face and, ironically, the gunpowder excursion would give her time to cool off. 

Seconds later C felt a familiar tensing shoot through her spine, signaling her release. And then…

And then?

…

There was supposed to be more. 

There was usually more. 

C directed her attention inwards again, brows furrowed in concern, only to be met with darkness. Was he that tired? More silence followed and she groaned in relief. 

She closed her eyes and took a breath before sitting up on the now ridiculously wet mattress. Her mattress protector had mostly abandoned its post and now laid on the floor, only a single corner desperately clinging on. She had done away with any sheets on the second day, a decision she was now unsure of seeing how much blood and cum came out of her. Then again, a thin sheet wouldn't have made much of a difference. Not to mention the dried red clumps already made her skin crawl, a whole sheet of crunch might make her pass out.

A finger slid up her thigh on impulse, catching a trail of cum and blood before it joined the rest of the abominable puddle, and her face twisted in a grimace. C fought the urge to fling her whole self into the trash can, reasoning that it wouldn’t be any cleaner.

Disgusting. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment before a yawn prompted her to stand. For the past five days Beomgyu had tormented her to the point of exhaustion and she’d only gotten some sleep while he was out that morning. She supposed more fantasies would follow later, but for now she felt normal—dehydrated as hell and more tired than she’d ever been since the change, but normal nonetheless. C glanced back at the bed, debating the pros and cons of sleeping in a puddle of her own fluids again.

Turning away with a sigh, she let her disgust win. A shower was certainly in order, but she should probably take care of the mess first. After kicking the blankets to a corner—a cleaner would take care of them once she left—she grabbed her water bottle with one hand, flipping the mattress over with the other. 

C sighed at the hassle of replacing the bloody, cum-soaked monstrosity, but there was no helping it. Usually two mattress protectors would do, the blood being her only concern during previous heats, but in the wake of her thrashing, they were utterly useless. Flipping the bed would do for now and maybe later she could find a way to attach a protector to the mattress.

Snaps maybe? Whatever. She could pour over the specifics later. Right now, there was a hot shower calling her name. 

~/*\~

When Ben opened his eyes in the morning he had expected to be hard already. His morning wood had gotten significantly worse during the time he’d spent at the HHL—something he blamed on that stupid Alpha—and his midnight fantasies were relentless. But today, it seemed he was off the hook. 

For the first time in a while he just laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. There was definitely something wrong with him. He’d always been on the hornier side of things, but every day? 

It was starting to wear on him and a lingering disgust tickled the back of his mind every time he came down from his high. But that only served to make him angrier. Why should he be the one to feel disgusted? They made him like this. Why was he the only one who felt how wrong it was? 

And that damned Lupus. She just had to save him like a knight in shining fucking armor. And then she had the audacity to smile at him like that. He would sue. 

If that was even an option. He doubted it, but surely he should get some remuneration for how often thoughts of her consumed his mind and his dick. It was straight up unfair of her to monopolize his head like that, especially since he’d only seen her twice. 

Ben groaned and tossed his left arm over his face. He was such a fucking simp. A simp for a girl who didn’t even seem interested. 

…

Ok, maybe that was a lie, he thought while her last expression flew through his mind. For a moment she looked like Sasha. He couldn’t help but overlap their images, but in the next instant C looked at him like she’d wronged him some how. He almost felt guilty. 

But then he caught himself. 

Why should he feel guilty for his thoughts? It’s not like she could read his mind. And even if she could, that didn’t mean he was in the wrong. 

…

Damnit, so fucking guilty and for what?

Ben groaned again and decided to let it go. She wasn't even around for him to vent his frustration on, so any more thoughts would just be letting her win. And he refused to let her win. The bitch would be so smug if she knew what he was thinking.

He could see it now—the cocky smirk, the raised eyebrow, if he was lucky, maybe some tongue…

Fuck . The now moderately turned on human sniffed delicately. He really needed to get a grip on his thoughts. All this thinking was draining and he had shit to do. 

Not that it was important shit, but it was shit that would keep his hand away from his dick and his mind off that damned Alpha.

Kai and Taehyun (Terry now, Ben corrected himself) would be dropping by soon to help him shower and get away from the musty apartment-esque residence. Yesterday had been great. He missed his friends immensely, their unknown fates often being his biggest source of comfort while he was pressed under some “patron” in the early morning hours. 

Now that he knew half of them had better fates than him, he was both relieved and slightly jealous. Why did they get years of safety, when all he got was unresolvable trauma?

Ben clicked his tongue. There it was, that ridiculous sense of guilt creeping in again. 

It wasn’t like he wanted them to go through what he did, but it felt so unfair. If only he hadn’t hidden when C searched the street back then. If only he had grabbed her attention at the start, then he wouldn’t have all these complicated emotions. He wouldn’t be so broken. He wouldn’t feel so ashamed to be in his friends' presence. He wouldn’t feel so disgusted with himself.  

Even if he had reacted just slightly slower maybe… maybe he could have ended up like Kai rather than like Ben. 

But he was Ben. 

…

Now he was Ben...

And there was nothing he could do to change the past. Fuck it.  

Maybe he couldn’t change the past, but surely he could change the future… right?

Hang on. Ben’s eyes widened in shock. That was almost a positive thought. A strange sense of pride rushed through him and he couldn’t help but smile. It must be the air here. He took a deep sniff only to be attacked by a sneeze, the sharp motion jerking his body and making him squeak in pain. 

Ben laid on the bed for a few minutes, furrowed brows and stilted breaths taking over his mind. Whoever said emotional pain was worse than physical, should be shot, Ha! He snorted at the double meaning only to follow it up with a sharp gasp of pain. He bit his lip and fought the urge to laugh or snort or breathe or slam his fist into his own face to see if that was less painful.

What time was it? A glance at the clock told him it had only been a few minutes since he woke up. Great. Depressing thoughts at the speed of light. Just what he needed. More time to overthink. The human mind was truly incredible.

Whatever, Kai and Tae–Terry would be showing up soon. Maybe he should try and get up. The nurse told him it would take a few weeks to a few months to recover—and not to move without help—but he was tired of waiting on people to come to him. He could at least sit up. 

Moving his good arm into position, he attempted to push himself upright. Attempted being the key word. It wasn’t entirely the fault of his wounds, he was just too weak to support himself and the pain took out the rest of his strength. The Quickshot Alliance didn’t let him do much while he was there, letting him wither away as they pleased. It wasn’t like he needed physical strength to get pounded in the ass anyway. 

Now that he was here though, he supposed they would let him work out, or at least walk around freely. The management here didn’t seem inclined to use his body for their own gain. No, they seemed more likely to let C take what she wanted. It’s not like anyone else in the New World had the power to stop her. 

Maybe a few powers overseas could do it, but in the Americas, the HHL reigned supreme. 

Ben wondered how they came into power so quickly. He distinctly remembered his first encounter with them being only weeks after the outbreak aired on tv. He was no expert, but that seemed like a remarkably fast time to set up a whole society and secure it enough that they could go scouting for people without worrying about raiders/werewolves. 

He could definitely be wrong… but… did they have something to do with the apocalypse? Did they cause it? Did they send the world spiraling just so they could play hero? Was he even safe here?

Here.

Damn.

He was really here. Like actually, physically here. He pushed aside his fears and let a tear trickle down his cheek. He could finally confirm his friends’ lives, but his thoughts wouldn’t let him rest. The alliance wouldn’t come for him, would they? Would the HHL give him up if Nocturne threatened them? 

He scoffed at the intrusive thought. Nocturne wouldn’t even try to threaten the HHL. He was too much of a coward and Ben wasn’t worth that much anyway. Then again, he was their “prized bitch”. Maybe they wouldn’t outright threaten, but they might infiltrate the HHL to steal him back. 

Ben shook his head, trying to clear his head. Alright, all he needed to do was get buff fast. Yeah. He nodded with an absurd amount of conviction. That was a solid plan. 

…

Or it would have been a solid plan, if he hadn’t been fucking shot, he reminded himself. Maybe he should convince Kai or C to bite him. He doubted they would be convinced, but if he used his body, he might get an edge on C.

He stopped himself. That was a very dangerous line of thinking. Fantasies were fine, but the actual act might make him throw up. But if it keeps me safe. He tried to brush the little devil off his shoulder, but the damned thing chose his good one and shrugging didn't do much to dislodge the bastard. 

He sighed, eyes screwing shut to block his thoughts from taking over. It was gonna take awhile to get rid of that thing. He refused to accept it was his own mind. He wouldn’t betray himself like that.  

“Knock knock.” The door slammed open before Ben could respond, nearly startling him into a ball. A reflex that didn’t go unnoticed by the men that walked through. 

Kai pounced on the bed laughing at the older man’s clear overreaction, “Did we scare you, 형?” Ben felt himself slip into another headspace as he laughed back, the floating feeling offering a mix of comfort and anxiety. Whatever response he managed to force out didn’t raise any flags with Kai, but Terry was different. 

Terry was suspicious. Ben could tell by the intent stare, but why was he suspicious? Or should the question start with what? His pondering threatened to pull him down from his high and for a brief moment he struggled against it. 

Until he realized there was no reason to fight. He was safe. The boys might have startled him, but they weren’t going to hurt him at all. His conversation with Kai got more stilted as he eased himself down, but the naïve Lupus still didn’t notice anything. Terry, on the other hand, was only growing more concerned. 

At least Ben hoped it was concern. The look he was getting could have been a death glare for all he knew. Out of his two old friends, Terry had changed the most. He was missing a leg and the scar tearing from the corner of his mouth to his upper cheek gave him a predatory vibe. If Ben didn’t know any better, he’d have thought that Terry was the Lupus. 

“Hey Kai, could you go grab the wheelchair?” Ben almost sagged in relief when Terry looked away. “I’ll get Ben into the shower.” 

The tall as fuck Lupus pouted, but didn’t hesitate to obey, and Ben was struck with the anxiety of being left alone with Terry. A truly terrifying thought. 

It wasn’t just the younger’s scars that intimidated him. It was also everything else. The height—Terry was probably taller than him now—and the absolutely ripped physique were just cherries on top. Seriously though, Ben didn’t doubt that Terry could lift him with one arm.

A thought that was proven true mere seconds later when said human slipped an arm under his torso and brought him to the edge of the bed in one smooth motion. His anxious thoughts were put to rest at the gentleness of the much larger man’s actions. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” The anxiety came rushing back. Ben looked at Terry, the younger man now squatting in front of him. He struggled to school his expression, refusing to let himself slip back into his other headspace. It was a lot harder to control his face when he was so present with it. 

“Talk about what?” He said it with a laugh, but the reply was too late and the laugh was too hollow for it to seem natural.  

Terry watched him with the same eyes as earlier, this time he could tell it was concern. Ben chewed his lip and looked away, the familiar guilt slipping back down his throat to pool in his stomach. 

A sigh brought his attention back and his gaze followed Terry as he stood up. “You don’t have to tell me what you went through, but you should tell someone. If you need a counselor, just let me know. I’ll arrange one for you.” 

“You have counselors here?” Ben’s mouth gaped in disbelief. It was almost unreal how much the HHL could offer their residents. And to think that just anyone could walk up and ask for refuge. It made him wonder why people didn’t flock here by the hundreds. 

Terry smiled and Ben was hit with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. “We have just about everything here. Beah and C made this place into a haven.” He sat next to Ben, staring ahead as he continued. “There’s a few missing perks here and there, but they’ve really tried to gather everything one could possibly need.” 

He seemed very proud of his home. Ben didn’t have to wonder why. 

And there it is. The taste of vinegar sat heavy on his tongue, and he couldn’t hold back a quick jab. “If it’s so perfect, why aren’t there more people here?” 

Terry glanced at him from the corner of his eye, but Ben refused to look his way. “We went under a lock down of sorts about a month ago.” He hurried to complete his thought before the elder male could interrupt. “We usually lock down around the time of the Lunar New Year, since the Lupi get pretty restless around now, but it’s looking like it’ll be a longer lock down.” The scarred man sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “The HHL has a lot of resources and therefore a lot of enemies. It hasn’t really mattered before, but now there’s rumors of a larger anti-HHL alliance gathering, so Beah is deciding to keep the gates closed for now.” 

Ben nodded in understanding, but then a thought hit him. “Wait, then how did I get in? Was it just because I’m injured? Will you be throwing me back out once I’m better?” He couldn’t keep his thoughts from spiraling, but Terry’s laughter cut through the fog like a knife through butter. 

“We’re not going to throw you out again.” He made it sound ridiculous. What was the point of a lock down then, if they were just going to let in whoever anyway? “We don’t let in just whoever, dumbass.” The words were followed by a huff and Terry leaned back on the bed. “C brought you back and C can do whatever the hell she likes around here.” Ben sensed a hint of something darker from his friend. 

“What’s your relationship with C?” He swore he didn’t mean to come off as a pissed off boyfriend, but it just happened. It was that damned Alpha’s fault—always up in his head like she owned the place. It was straight up unfair. Why couldn’t he have the same power over her? 

…

Did he have the same power over her? Should he… ask?

No, that would be stupid. Even if he asked, he doubted she’d tell him honestly.  

“I’m sort of the honorary Beta.” Terry’s reply cut through his thoughts at just the right time. But honorary?" C is the Alpha, which is both a title and a… I guess you could call it a personality trait. But since I'm not Lupi, Beta's only an honorary title. She’s been trying to turn me for around a year now, but there’s too many drawbacks to it."

Wow. Where to start? 

“I’m back!” A loud thud followed the equally loud voice and Ben’s door swung open with a slam, revealing his youngest friend pushing a standard wheelchair. Whatever thought process he was working through got cut short by Kai’s second dramatic entrance of the day—he imagined there would be at least two more.

“Alright.” Terry slapped his knees and stood up, the acquired action almost enough to make Ben laugh. He didn't though. There were too many questions floating about his head. 

"Why does C need a Beta? Why are you Beta? Why don't you want to be Lupi? Why isn't Kai Beta? Why did she choose you?"  He didn't mean for that last one to come out, but it ended up slipping. Was that jealousy?

Kai and Terry stared down at him from their intimidating heights, seemingly confused, and Ben wondered which question did it. 

It was probably the last one. Did they sense his jealousy? He debated throwing a "nevermind" at the tail end, but too many seconds had passed for it to seem natural. 

Then again did "nevermind" ever seem natural when it followed a string of questions?

"Let's get you showered first." Terry ended up being the one to speak. "I'll be joining you in the greenhouse for a bit today. There's plenty of time to talk then." 

Ben debated demanding immediate answers, but decided against it. He needed that shower and it was doubtful there'd be an end to his questions. 

And so he nodded and let the other human princess carry him to the shower stool.

~/*\~

As soon as they entered the apartment, Terry knew something was up. The flinching, the glazed eyes, the slightly off breathing, all of it pointed to some serious mental issues. Terry had his finger on PTSD, but he was no psychiatrist. 

Ben hadn't talked much about the past five years, but, with the way he reacted to his given name and the various other signs of trauma, it couldn't have been a good time.

Terry wasn't sure if he wanted to know or not, but he offered his ear anyway. It was honestly a surprise when he'd found out Ben was C 's bond, but that wasn’t the only reason he’d be taking care of the older male. His malnourished friend brought back both the best and the worst kind of nostalgia, and he wasn’t about to let the last time they saw each other become his last memory. 

It wasn't going to be easy though. With the Alpha locked up in her heat room during the Lunar New Year, the HHL Lupi were quickly spiraling out of his control and required near 24/7 supervision. Kai was able to help on occasion, but he was nearly just as useless as Terry. 

The pure rage he had to weather when he told them the Lunar New Year ceremony would be postponed had him shaking in his boot. Not to mention he had no one to celebrate his birthday with. That one probably sucked the most.

Though he told Ben that there were more drawbacks than positives to becoming Lupi, he was nearing the end of his rope. C had to find a Beta quickly, but there wasn't anyone she could trust enough with the role besides himself and so, they found themselves caught in a vicious cycle.

Terry didn't realize how bad things had gotten until he found himself lacking an Alpha, but now that he thought back on it, C hadn't left the compound for more than a day in recent months—starting around the time of the Lupi boom. Before then, she spent more than 2/3rds of the year away from the HHL. 

It was only when she spent an entire month without any distant excursions that Terry thought something was up, but she waved away his concerns, saying it was just the natural progression of things. He had taken it to mean that the HHL no longer needed her to track down new talents—that they had enough professionals in the mix. But that wasn't the case at all. 

There were too many Lupi now. 

Going away for more than a day or two would leave them volatile and prone to attacking the humans. Luckily the Lupi could still sense her presence on the compound or Terry wouldn’t know what he would have done. It made sense why she was getting so pushy about turning him. He almost felt guilty for rejecting her so often. 

Almost. It still wasn't worth it and he wasn't going to be guilted into becoming Lupi. C didn't—wouldn't—want him to change just because he felt bad for her. If she did, she would have told him how much she was struggling. 

Speaking of which, he wasn't too happy she left him in the dark. He understood her motivations, but at the same time the secret left a bad taste in his mouth. They usually told each other everything, but what else was she hiding from him?

Was this how she felt every time he turned her down? Like he was building a wall or drawing a line in the sand. He could almost hear her say it. I'm not like you. It didn't usually bother him this much. 

He wasn't like her. That was the point. But he was her rock, wasn't he? Maybe not, now that he thought about it.

Damn, what a time for depressing thoughts—naked with his buddies in the shower.

Terry bit the tip of his tongue, trying to focus on getting Ben clean without hurting him. It really, really wasn't the time to think about C. 

And definitely not the time to release her from her heat room to ask for a hug. Not unless he wanted to get bitten, and he was still certain about staying human. 

He still really wanted that hug though. What day was it? He vaguely remembered throwing a tantrum almost two weeks ago and then getting dragged out of his bedroom by Kai a few days later. If she went in on the day he isolated himself, then he had three more days till he could get that hug. 

A gasp from Ben drew him out of his thoughts, and Terry realized he had the older boy's arm at a weird angle. "Sorry." Gently lowering it, he placed the soap back on the shelf and pulled the shower head down to rinse his seated friend off.

"Whachu thinkin' about?" Ben looked up at the younger boy in pure curiosity—a look Terry was very familiar with. The accent, however, was definitely something he had to get used to. He didn't remember such a drastic change when he reunited with Kai, but it seemed Ben picked up a significantly Californian tone. It was pretty similar to C’s American accent now that he thought about it, though her Russian origins occasionally slipped through the cracks.

"He's probably thinking about C and how he wants to huug and kiiis-" Kai was gagged with a soapy loofa to the mouth as Ben looked on, eyes widened in disbelief. 

"What was that about?" Morbid curiosity flickered dangerously in the eldest boy's eyes and Terry knew he'd be in for it if he didn't share. 

But he didn't want to share. How was he supposed to explain their relationship to her bond? It felt vaguely wrong, like they were cheating on him. They weren't, but trying to explain his Lupi behavior to a human when he wasn't Lupi…

Maybe he should take C up on her offer. Then again, if he was like this now, he'd be especially clingy once he was turned. She wasn't even his bond. 

Yeah, no. He'd add that to the list of "reasons to stay human". No need to wedge himself in between such a happy couple. He snorted in his thoughts, but declined to share his musings with the other two boys. Unfortunately, Ben’s curiosity wouldn’t let him rest. With a sigh, he decided to keep it simple, “C is my… person…? I guess that makes the most sense.” Describing her in one word felt almost sacrilegious, but calling her his everything might get a bit too weird especially following Kai’s mildly sexual comment. 

Ben’s eyes narrowed and sparked with something Terry found unfamiliar, but whatever it was, it nearly made his heart skip a beat. He never knew a wounded, malnourished human could be so intimidating, especially with his own nearly Lupus physique. He decided to expound before Ben tried to jump him. “She pulled me out of a pretty deep hole. I owe her a lot.” Kai began gurgling water and Terry sent a mildly annoyed look in his direction. “But I do not want to kiss her. That’s like kissing my sister.” 

To his relief the dark look in the eldest’s eyes faded and one of understanding took its place. He made a mental note to avoid touching C while her bond was around. It didn't feel like things would go well for him if Ben found them interacting as they usually did. 

"But why do you care so much?" Kai asked, finally recovering from the earlier attack. "C is fairly intimate with all the Lupi anyway. That's just how we are." 

“I thought Tae- Terry was human?” Ben’s questioning didn’t seem like it would let up any time soon, so Terry sat on the edge of the tub with a sigh. 

“When I first got here, I had some issues–” Kai’s snort was ignored with an eyeroll, “and C was the only one who would put up with me. A year or so went by and suddenly I was too human to be Lupi, but too Lupi to be human.” Terry shrugged. “At this point, I might as well make the switch, but it's just not worth it.” His eyes dulled, gaze falling out of focus, “If I change now, it feels like I'll lose what humanity I have left." Kai tensed and bit his lower lip, but the action was missed by Terry. 

The three boys fell into a contemplative silence as they toweled off and got dressed and Terry was left with his all too consuming thoughts. 

He didn't know if he had any humanity left. He couldn't even recall all the lives he took during the first few years of the apocalypse and, even though C never blamed him or mentioned it, he still felt like it would take centuries more to pay back his blood debt. Yet another point in C 's favor. Why was he still holding on to something so obviously useless? Why was this the hill he chose to die on? 

“You coming?” Kai’s voice drifted over and Terry looked up to meet his friends’ inquisitive stares. While he was lost in his mind, Kai had arranged Ben into the wheelchair, probably with all the elegance known to his kind. 

Terry sucked his front teeth for a second.

Damn, where’d that come from? Jealousy was never his thing before. Or maybe his emotions were just hard to regulate without C around? Should he just–? “Yeah I’m coming.” He looked down just to make sure he was dressed and dry. Luck was on his side today. 

He shook his head and followed his friends out the door. Being so dependent on one person was how he got into this mess. It’s getting mighty tempting though. As Terry followed his friends out the door towards, he briefly imagined the consequences of his actions and for the first time in five years, he didn’t dread it.

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[theladyofdeath]

I Burn for You {Two}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction. Elriel. Period AU. 19th Century. Written alongside @snelbz .

Click here to read the summary and for more chapters!

A/N: It's about to get real. We're almost done writing all 10 chapters and I cannot wait to share the rest of this story with you all. Enjoy! T/W: None

Dear Azriel,

I’ll be returning from the Autumn Court later this week and find myself in need of your company. I’ve missed you in these months apart. Perhaps we can have lunch in the park? Or, we can meet at the academy and paint something new? It would be nice to see you.

Considering I have not heard from you since we parted, I assume you are in Velaris and anxiously awaiting my return. I shall stop by your home in a few days and we can make a plan unless I hear from you beforehand.

Sincerely,

Gwyn

Her penmanship was horrible but Azriel could decipher it nonetheless. He could tell that she had no formal education but he was surprised by her grammar. The letter, which had come out of nowhere, made him smile.

He supposed that was significant these days. 

His favorite thing about Gwyn was that she was a good listener. She was a pusher, too, in the most obnoxious of ways, but he liked it. She always made him share more than he wanted to, but it usually benefited him. He always felt a little lighter after his long, heartfelt talks with Gwyn. 

It was why he’d initially felt so great after returning from their travels. He’d been able to talk through some of his feelings for Elain with Gwyn. She’d been the first person to know he was in love with Elain, had actively pushed him to tell her, to pursue her even.

But towards the end, he’d begun to notice that her eyes lingered on him more and more. Had their time together changed something for her, something she hadn’t revealed before he left her in Autumn, after stopping to visit with her family? She’d promised him she could find travel accommodations back and wasn’t yet ready to leave her sister behind.

If he’d delayed another day with her, he wouldn’t have been here to meet Nyx the day he did. This whole mess with Elain wouldn’t have started, though he was fairly sure that it started at Rhysand’s wedding, but still.

Bottom line was that he missed Gwyn. He was glad to hear she was back in Velaris, glad to have his friend and confidant back.

Even if he’d begun to consider what a life with her would be like.

Perhaps that was how he found himself standing in front of a canvas full of oranges and browns and yellows and reds. The color of the leaves of her home.

He had never seen Gwyn as an outsider, someone who didn’t fit in. She had plenty of friends at the academy, but in Velaris, she was just another pretty face on the street that you could walk by without knowing.

In Autumn, she was staggering. It seemed everything there complimented her. The leaves and expansive forests, the rough stone buildings, even the crystal clear lakes and rivers she’d shown him.

His favorite had been the exact color of her eyes. Azriel had enjoyed their time in Autumn, even though it had been more brief than any of the other courts they visited.

Except for Spring. They skipped Spring entirely, the perennially stagnant smell of flowers and constant humming of insects appealing to neither of them.

Gwyn had shown her all of her favorite haunts growing up.

He had found it charming.

Graciously interrupting his alone time once again, Rhysand and Cassian burst into Azriel’s bedroom. The former cringed while the latter pretended to fall into a coughing fit.

“Please tell me that stench is not you,” Rhysand drawled. 

Azriel frowned, looking around his room. He hadn’t even realized that something smelled. He’d taken multiple baths since they had last come to disrupt his peace. 

Then it hit him. “I was burning incense. I thought it smelled nice.”

“It smells like a gypsy wagon,” Rhysand noted, walking further into the space.

“You would know,” Azriel said, dropping his paintbrush on the base of his easel and wiping his hands on his smock. “You spent enough time in them before you met the Viscountess.” 

Despite himself, Rhysand grinned. There had been a summer, the summer of their twenty-first year, when the three of them met a few gypsies in Winter and spent a month traveling with them. Rhysand had found a gypsy woman near thirty that he had become enamored with and spent the entirety of that month in her caravan. Azriel and Cassian had just made their rounds with the single women that remained.

That was such a different lifetime ago, when they had been young and foolish. 

“I like it,” Azriel went on, but pushed open a window nonetheless. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Supper tonight,” Rhysand said, simply. “It’s about time you came to see your nephew. He and Feyre miss your company and request your presence.” 

The thought of going to a formal supper on such short notice made Azriel uneasy, even if it was just at Rhysand’s.

“Nesta wishes to see you, too,” Cassian added. “She needs to talk to someone about her books and you are the only one that seems to listen.”

Azriel lifted a brow. “You do not listen? As her husband, it seems you should.”

Cassian grinned. “We have far better things to do, I assure you.”

With a shake of his head, Azriel sat on the edge of his bed. “What time is supper?”

“We’ll have tea in an hour. Get dressed and presentable, we’ll wait for you.” That way you can make sure that I’ll go, Azriel thought, but he didn’t blame them. If the roles were reversed, Azriel would be hovering, too. He loved Rhysand and Cassian more than anyone. They were his family. He knew the feeling was mutual between them all. 

The love that they had for Azriel was why they were here, annoying him relentlessly. “Fine, but I’m only doing this for Nyx and your wives.”

Cassian clapped him on the back so hard that he nearly toppled forward. “Good. Hurry.”

Azriel bathed, shaved, and dressed in some of his finest clothes. When he was deemed appropriate by his brothers, he was joining them in Rhysand’s carriage and riding across town to the manor that ran along the Sidra.   

It wasn’t that Azriel did not like joining his brothers for supper, he truly did, but being outside of his house and socializing felt strange after his months of solitude. 

Feyre and Nyx stood in front of the manor as they pulled up, smiling brightly. Feyre had Nyx’s hand in hers, making it look like he was waving as they came to a stop. Rhysand was watching them with so much adoration that it made Azriel shift in his seat.

To no one’s surprise, Rhys was out of the carriage before the doorman was even able to reach for the door, up the manor stairs, and taking his giggling son out of Feyre’s arms. Cassian was out a moment later, holding his hand out for Azriel to take as he exited. He swatted his brother’s hand aside as his boots landed on the ground, looking up to find Feyre’s eyes wide in surprise. Azriel looked around. “Where’s Nesta?”

Feyre, who was looking more confused by the second, took Nyx back from Rhysand. “She’s inside with—”

“With the tea, which must be growing cold,” Cassian interrupted, clapping Azriel on the shoulder as he led him up the stairs, “so let’s head in.”

He could hear Feyre and Rhysand murmuring quietly behind them as they headed for the drawing room where they’d be taking their tea. Nyx thought he was a part of the conversation as well, his excited babbles echoing off the marble tiles. Cassian was talking idly about what ladies he’d heard would be debuting this season and who would be returning to the ton, as if Azriel actually cared what any of the women of society were doing. Save for one.

As they approached the open drawing room doors, a laugh carried out to them. Azriel’s steps slowed and then stopped.

Feyre stepped around him, refusing to make eye contact as she disappeared into the room with her son. Rhysand and Cassian both stopped behind him, and when Azriel slowly turned to face them, they were already waiting for whatever would be coming out of his mouth.

After staring at each other in silence for an ungodly amount of time, Azriel announced, “I’m leaving.”

“Az—”

“Good day.” He was already moving around his brothers, but although Rhysand was the same size and stature as Azriel, Cassian was just a little bit bigger. It was that little bit that made it possible for Cassian to reach out and grab Azriel when Rhysand couldn’t. Azriel came to a stop, his body rigid as Cassian gripped the back of his collar. 

“You’re not leaving,” Cassian said, his voice low. “You’re going to man up and sit through this family dinner, because we miss you and you are a part of this family. And, so is she.”

Her laughter floated into the hall once again and Azriel’s eyes closed. 

Months. It had been months since he had heard that laugh. 

It had been nearly a year since he had been the reason she laughed like that.

When he opened his eyes, he shoved Cassian off of him but didn’t move. He brushed down his jacket, even though there were no wrinkles or dust. “You should not have lured me here under false pretenses. That was unfair.”

“If we told you Elain was present, you would not have joined us,” Rhysand said, shrugging. “We will not let you stay holed up, alone, forever. Cass is right, we miss you. If nothing else, you’re missing watching Nyx grow. Call me selfish, but I do not want you missing that.”

Azriel didn’t want to miss it, either. He loved his nephew and wanted to be a part of his life. He had only seen him once since he was two weeks old, when he first met Nyx, when Rhysand had brought him to visit. 

“Does she know I’m here?” Azriel asked, quietly.

“Feyre is letting her know,” Rhysand said, eyes flickering to the sitting room behind him. “We should probably go inside, don’t you think? We do not want to seem like we’re talking about her out here.”

Azriel scoffed, shaking his head. He hated his brothers. He hated them, and he loved them, and he wanted to challenge them both to a duel and watch as he beat their asses. 

“I require a drink,” Azriel said, looking down at the tile beneath his polished boots. 

“I’ll fill it to the brim,” Rhysand promised and gestured to the sitting room. “Shall we?”

As his shoulders deflated, Azriel took a deep breath and nodded. 

He followed his brothers into the sitting room and as soon as he caught sight of her, he couldn’t breathe. 

Elain sat across from her sisters on the settee, her yellow dress a stark contrast to her long golden brown hair and caramel eyes. As soon as the gentlemen entered, the three sisters stood and curtsied. Azriel could not take his eyes off of her, and when she rose from her curtsy and met his gaze, her cheeks were flushed. 

An awkward tension filled the air that the others quickly tried to cover. 

“Finally, someone to listen to me talk about the novel I just finished,” Nesta said, walking to Azriel and taking his face into her hands so that it was her eyes he met. 

With a smile, Azriel said, “I cannot wait to hear about your most recent literary adventure.”

After planting a kiss on his cheek, Nesta strode to her husband and Azriel could hear the quiet scolding she was giving him. 

Unable to help himself, his eyes drifted back to Elain. Her feet were planted in place as if she was unable to move, so it seemed he would be the one to make the first move. There was only ten feet between them or so, but the walk to her felt like miles. Keeping a healthy distance away, Azriel nodded in greeting. “Good evening, Miss Elain. You look well.”

“As do you, my lord,” she answered, and the use of his title from her mouth was still painful. “It is nice to see you again.”

“When did you return from Spring?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation light, even though it was nothing that he wanted to say. The questions he had for her, however, were not under the sanction of small talk. 

“Just last week,” she replied, her voice quieting. 

Azriel nodded and he felt foolish for not knowing. Rhysand had told him that she would be returning soon, but he hadn’t known when, just that she would be returning before the season began. He supposed the season would begin in a week’s time. It was only a matter of time before she returned. “And did you enjoy your time there?”

Elain looked away from him, towards the table where a vase of roses sat. “Very much so. Thank you for asking, my lord.”

It was too painful. Speaking with her so formally was too painful. Thankfully, Nyx soon became a distraction to all and he no longer had to try and have more of that painful conversation with the woman he had once been in love with.

Was still in love with.

Complicated. It was so complicated. 

As he sat down in a chair opposite of Elain, Azriel tried not to look her way and failed as Rhysand handed him a full glass of whiskey. He wouldn’t drink it too fast. He wouldn’t want to get sloppy, not in front of his family, not in front of Nyx, not in front of Elain. No, he would pace himself. After all, the night was just beginning. 

[seollenda]

past tense and an arms length (taeyeon/reader)

get your taeyeon angst here…with a side of annoyed wingman fany. because taetae is always on the mind and has only become more and more now i’m back into binging gg content ;w;

word count: ~2,000

CW: n/a

“we don’t talk anymore.”

maybe taeyeon hadn’t meant it to come across that bluntly, but the media didn’t miss out on the sound bite. a few korean outlets wheedled their way into your inbox, digging up your contact info and demanding comments that you couldn’t even arrange into coherence anyway. you tried to ignore them the best you could.

even when tiffany came knocking one day, with the deepest frown and a pout that betrayed some irritation as well.

“taetae wants to talk.” she set her cargo down on a recently wiped down countertop—grimey produce that you know she foraged from her nearest farmers market. the next bag was a black plastic one, filled to the brim with your favourite korean snacks. her version of a love language.

“i thought we don’t talk anymore.”

maybe you hadn’t meant it to come across that sensitive either.

(or maybe you both had.)

in any case, tiffany wasn’t having it.

she set a bottle of riesling next to the potatoes, which you snatched up and immediately stuck in your fridge.

“you know she didn’t mean it that way. she has to watch what she says nowadays…”

“right, and she sure did a good job at keeping the buzz down,” you replied, digging through the groceries to put them away. fany just watched you bustle around, nonplussed. you continued, a pang of what you tried to identify as resentment twisting your stomach. “maybe she forgot to consider that i have a life to live here…my inbox was quiet enough until this bullshit.”

“y/n.” tiffany snapped. “stop bullshitting me. i’ve never seen you sulk this bad, even since you moved.” you finally relented and looked her in the eyes. “frankly i’m tired of being the in between for your annoying ass drama. so for my sake, figure it the fuck out.”

guilty. your heart sank.

“fany…” you started, setting the onions down and brushing the dust off your hands on your shirt. you came around the kitchen island, reaching for a hug. “i’m sorry…i’m so selfish sometimes…”

“it’s okay,” she accepted your arms. she smelled of the same peony perfume she’d shown off excitedly the last time you’d met—when things seemed so settled in and moved on, finally. you’d secured your biggest theater role yet, moved into the apartment you’d searched for, adopted a kitten. you’d felt that glowing pride and admiration from your closest friend, someone who had always seemed to have it all figured out from the beginning. in her shadow in america, then los angeles, you had grown content, even when she pushed you to carry on. and you finally felt like you’d shed the stage name, finally yourself, an artist in her own right here in a city where they were much more seldom recognized. where they could refuse and avoid prying korean press, and they grew uninterested enough not to bother. a new email domain had felt like a silly small step in that realization.

until fucking kim taeyeon decided to mention you on live prime time radio.

a month out since that happy brunch, now tiffany regarded you with weary disappointment.

“i know she hurt you, and what she did wasn’t fair,” she prodded, honest yet affectionate. she tucked your hair behind an ear, sensing the rising tide of emotion in you. “but you really hurt her too. taengu…” fany trailed off, and you were reminded of the fact that yes, the two of them were soulmates in a way, too. closest of friends, and you’d been the cause of her best friend’s three years of pain.

you gritted your teeth against tears.

“she’s coming to los angeles this week,” tiffany said suddenly. “international interviews before comeback, now that things are opened up again.” she leveled a stare at you. “she wants to see you. she’s doing a big thing, stepping forward first.” her grip squeezed firmly on your shoulders. “so meet her halfway.”

“okay.” you said, if only to release her vice grip on you. you returned to your tidying, feeling churning butterflies already.

“you don’t even have to make up,” tiffany said, her tone finally loosening into something resembling her usual self. “honestly, it’s probably best if you two don’t hook up. at least for now.”

she grinned at the dirtiest glare you could manage and shrugged unapologetically.

“sorry, neither of you are over it,” she wandered over to your fridge, apparently too impatient to wait for the wine to chill. “you have a type, clearly. so does she. honestly it’s kinda creepy how accurate it is…”

“she…” you couldn’t resist. “she’s been in a relationship?”

“only flings,” fany rolled her eyes, handing you a glass. you sipped at it. tart and way too sweet. just the way tiffany young liked it. “she’s been off men since you, to be honest. one guy, and he deadass kinda reminded me of you, too.“

“celeb?”

“tattoo artist.”

“i’d never have been a tattoo artist,” you couldn’t help but snort. tiffany laughed too.

“maybe that’s why that one was over so fast.” she rolled her eyes. “anyway. i’d have said you have higher ground on this one but i know you’re still way too hung up on her.”

you exhaled, leaning on the countertop with a hanging head.

“can you blame me?”

kim taeyeon. no woman had gripped you like she had. maybe whatever…this was was mutual after all.

if she’d seemed so touchy about the topic on some random radio show.

—

“hey.”

“hi.”

it was unusual for either of you to call rather than text, but somehow messages seemed more intimate than a phone call. at least both parties could pretend to have forgotten what was said when words were released into receivers, dissolved into air immediately.

“did we want to meet tomorrow? brunch? fany said she reserved a quiet spot for us with good food.”

hearing her voice call your mutual friend by that nickname betrayed another rush of nostalgia. you gripped the phone tighter, pressing your lips together. you weren’t sure what was threatening to spill out of you, but you didn’t trust yourself.

“yeah, sure.” you swallowed, your voice even.

“eleven AM, the blue barrow,” she said shortly. her tone was indecipherable, especially over a crackly connection.

“got it.”

a silence began to stretch uncomfortably. fany’s words repeated reproachfully in your head. so you made an effort.

“you landed today?”

“yeah, this morning.” she exhaled. you could hear her voice opening up to you already. the hint of weariness was familiar, one which had always pricked your attention. “rest, tae,” you would have repeated until she listened (sometimes it took more than a few patient repetitions).

rest. moments the two of you had shared turned to what the other girls surreptitiously dubbed “quality time”. the two of you lay in the same cramped dorm bed, fingers intertwined and talking about anything and nothing, dreams and realities. comparing hands, tracing veins, remarking about anything in a way that you felt like you learned something everytime. something about taeng, but something about yourself.

rest, taeng-ah.

—

dressed down, wrapped up in a semblance of incognito fashion, she was still stunning when she lowered her shades and lifted her cap.

“hey, y/n.”

she said your name this time.

“hi taeyeonie.”

the conversation was stilted, the food delicious. her gaze was furtively attentive when she thought you didn’t notice, otherwise guarded in a way that hurt.

so much for her making the first step. tiffany had always been an optimist.

and maybe a bit of a liar. this taeyeon didn’t want anything to do with you, even as she sat before you and you breathed her air and thought you were looking into her eyes.

“that was delicious,” you mustered some cheer, collecting your card. (the meal your treat, you’d insisted. she didn’t resist as hard as she normally would. maybe she didn’t see it as worth it anymore. it didn’t seem like a running tab would occur between the two of you at this rate.)

she watched you get to your feet, taking a deep breath before bolting hastily to her own. her words came clumsily and overeagerly. you knew she’d held onto them longer than she should’ve.

“can i see your apartment?”

you raised an eyebrow, attempting sone lighthearted ribbing.

“inviting yourself over?”

“i just—“ she stammered, her nervous hands landing among dishes to lean on the tabletop. “fany told me so much about your new place and your cat and you know, i—“

“i’m just kidding,” you cut in, saving her from giving an answer that you knew neither would want to admit. you saw her shoulders slacken slightly. “yeah, you can come over.”

—

what had possessed you to let kim taeyeon take another step into your life?

she was on your threshold, fumbling off her flats and stepping into your apartment. not at the scale one might have imagined for an ex-girls generation member. but cozy and well kept and just what you’d dreamed of all along.

“it’s lovely,” she said finally. clutching the couch back, facing away from you. “it’s very you. what i’d always imagined your home might look.”

“guess i haven’t changed there.”

she turned around, her eyes bright with tears.

“i shouldn’t have come, i’m sorry.” but she only stepped closer. her gaze searched your face, desperate. “but i had to see you.”

“i know.” you swallowed hard. she reached out, tentative but encouraged. her hands were small, warm in yours. “i don’t know what i expected.”

“i had things to say to you.” she broke into a watery chuckle, embarrassed. “i wrote it all down…” she reached toward her jeans pocket but thought better of it, returning her hands to yours. “but i thought maybe you should get a chance to talk this time.”

you exhaled a breath held. her warm gaze gave you strength. even after all these years.

“i think i finally understood why you had to.” your eyes were dry, somehow. “but you could’ve told me, taeyeon. none of it made sense to me.”

“yeah,” she looked down. “i thought it was easier if you didn’t know. it barely made sense to me.” tae released a hand to clutch lightly at her scalp in bemusement. “i was double-stupid for expecting you to stay.”

“i would’ve hoped for it too,” you replied. the memories came back in a messy, warm, sentimental flurry. “we were so young…”

“wasn’t it fun?”

she gazed into you. nobody could dig into you like her, lay you bare in a way that frightened you at first. that had been the initial, passionate draw. to be seen so nakedly, it was inevitable to want find more. not just of the other girl. but the pieces of yourself you could find in her eyes.

it was stupid and dangerous, but it tugged at you again. even a hundred life events since you’d last met her this way.

“it was.” past tense. it had to be, or else you’d be driven insane again. the girl on your television, the girl who couldn’t stop herself from uttering your name, the girl whose lyrics echoed the exact words she’d spoken to you one of those warmest nights. ones that you’d thought she’d forgotten, but you could never release.

“i loved you.”

she was quiet.

past tense. past tense.

“i loved you too.”

and she stepped first, finally. her lips were just the same as you remembered, her hands finding the same points on your waist and then up to cup your face. she was just the same, it was all just the same.

you were stupid and young and lovesick again, and kim taeyeon was yours again.

“i still want to.”

the two of you had always known what you’d wanted. her words hadn’t changed either. you’d been a fool after all, forgetting willfully or otherwise.

with tae, it was always the present.

[eternal-love-song]

Hour To Midnight

A months after a bad breakup and at a New Year's Eve party she didn't want to attend, Maki ends up with company that she did not expect. After commiserating over his own bad break up, Kokichi proposes that they start the new year off together, with a kiss.

[Maki/Kokichi]

[Non despair AU, Aged Up Characters, Hurt Comfort, Post break up, Drinking, Maki POV, New Year’s Eve, New Year’s Kiss]

@dr-rarepair-week-blog

It was an hour to midnight. The ticking clock was making her irritated. She kept playing with her hair, pulling it out of her pigtails just to put it back again so that she had  something to do with her hands. She was reluctant to leave because she'd have to pass through the main room and someone would see her and ask her why she was leaving and what was wrong and a thousand other irritating questions that she didn't want to deal with. So instead she was just... waiting. Counting. Lingering in the most empty hallways and hoping not to get cornered.

The party had been going well enough at first. No one had annoyed her too badly, the music wasn't at an ear splitting volume, and she thought that she'd escape the night with a renewed hope for the coming year.

And then he had showed up. Maki hadn't seen Kaito since they'd broken up months ago and she'd been stewing in regret ever since. Even though he was always wrong when he tried to read her, and she never really knew how to talk to him, and it had always felt a little more awkward than romantic when they went on dates... Even with all that, Maki had missed him. She regretted that they  hadn't spoken since, but she'd never been good at talking about her emotions and she didn't know what to say, so she just... didn't. 

And then he had shown up tonight and he wasn't alone. Even worse, he was with Kaede. She didn't even know if they were together or had just arrived together, but they looked so happy and comfortable around each other, and it reminded her of everything she wasn't and it just... Well, Maki had always been a coward when her emotions were involved. She ran. She wouldn't lie about that. Maki had fled the room and now she was counting the minutes to midnight and agonizing over whether Kaede and Kaito would kiss.

Pacing in the hallways got old fast and was growing staler by the moment. She decided to cut her loses and sneak out the window. She would be leaving her coat behind, hung up in the front closet when she'd first entered, but that was a price she was willing to pay.

Maki went to the bathroom, opened the window, and carefully climbed out. She hesitated, wondering for a moment if she was really going to sneak away from all her friends an hour before midnight on New Year's Eve just to avoid an  awkward meeting with her ex. Then she heard the door to the bathroom open, left unlocked so that it wouldn't be closed off after she left, and she firmed up her resolve. She dropped down into the backyard from the second story, hoping that no one looked out the window to see her. 

To her surprise, she wasn't alone. When she rose up out of her crouch she found herself looking straight into the eyes of the person she hated most, Kokichi. Well, it was a bit dramatic to say that she hated him. They were friends, in the way that her friends were friends with him and so they often ended up in the same spaces with the same people. Friends in the way of people who never got along and always argued, but she would still punch a stranger over if the occasion called for it.

"Fuck," he said, blinking rapidly at her. "Have I had too many shots or did you fall from the fucking heavens?" he asked. 

"Second story," she corrected him. "Anything more and I might have risked spraining my ankle."

He stared at her a moment longer before reaching beside him, pouring himself a shot, and downing it instantly. He locked eyes with her again afterwards. "Why the hell did you do that?"

She crossed her arms, irritated that she wasn't able to avoid annoying questions after all. "None of your business," she replied with a glare. The glare didn't seem to affect him much, maybe because he had been drinking. Then a thought came to her and she turned the question around on him. "What are you doing out here?" 

Maki looked him over more carefully. There was a bottle of something alcoholic beside him, along with a small collection of shot glasses. He was without a coat despite how cold it was and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked uncharacteristically bad. 

"Getting plastered," he answered with a deadpan stare. "What does it look like?"

"It looks like you haven't slept in weeks." She answered  honestly even though she knew he didn't want an answer. 

Kokichi glared. "Like someone who had a bad break up and then ran straight into their stupid, well meaning ex?"

Maki blinked at him in surprise. Thinking about it, she did recall that he and Shuichi had ended up breaking up, though she couldn't remember why. Shuichi hadn't wanted to talk about it and she hadn't wanted to ask. "I..."

"You know something about that, right?" he asked. She scowled at him, but he didn't seem to be poking fun at her, just pointing out the obvious. He poured himself another shot, downing it almost just as quickly. "Unless you jumped out a second story window for fun. Wouldn't put it past you honestly."

"I didn't ask for your opinion," she snapped.

"And I didn't give it." Kokichi held up the bottle and shook it with a grin. "Want to join me? Makes the cold easier."

"I came out here to leave," she said. But her hands went to her hair, tugging at it as she had been doing earlier. 

"Half an hour to midnight and you want to bail?" he asked, tilting his head. "At least wait until after the countdown so you can pretend to be normal and well adjusted and not at all affected by a bad break up."

"You're projecting," she told him.

"I'm drunk," he replied. He shook the bottle again. "You could be too."

It was tempting. Very tempting. If she left now, someone would eventually realize when they found her coat. The last thing she needed was someone asking her why she ran away or if she was okay. She wasn't and she didn't want to talk about it. Was there any real benefit to leaving now if no one knew where she was anyway?

Sighing, Maki sat down beside him on the cement steps of the patio. "Fine, but pour me two. I need to catch up to you."

Kokichi grinned. "You got it Makiroll."

Her expression soured. "Don't call me that." There was too much Kaito tired up in that name. She didn't want to be reminded of him. 

"Well, what else am I gonna call you?" he asked with an eye roll. As if she didn't have a name that he could call her. Though if she were honest, she couldn't remember the last time either of them had called the other by name.

Kokichi held the shots out to her. She downed them one after the other without flinching. "Ohh, like a professional! Never knew you had it in you."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Kokichi." She said his name purposefully, smirking at him as his eyes widened in surprise. She took the bottle from his hands, pouring herself a third shot and knocking it back just as casually. She welcomed the pleasant feeling of being tipsy that began to spread over her.

"Color me surprised, Maki Maki!" He grinned at her again, looking more loose and relaxed than she had ever seen him in her presence. "We'll start together next time so that I can see if you're really on pair with me."

Next time. Would there be a next time? She had never hung out with Kokichi alone and if she had been asked before now, she would have said that she never would. He was proving to be bearable when he was alone though. Or maybe it was the fact that he had been drinking that made him easier to be around.

"I'm pretty good at holding my liquor," she told him.

"And I'm pretty good at bullshitting, so I'd like to see how long it would take you to find out that I'm drunk," he said happily, leaning toward her. She surprised herself by not wanting to push him away when he leaned his head on her shoulder.

"Even drunk, you're a liar," she sighed.

"I'm always a liar, even when I'm honest," he told her. "My core character doesn't change just because I tell the truth sometimes." Maki was surprised by the suddenly somber mood. He looked so serious, staring off into the distance at something she couldn't see. Was he lost in his own thoughts or reliving memories that she didn't know? "I'm a liar. I can't just turn it off whenever."

If she hadn't been drinking, she probably wouldn't have asked. Three shots in made her lips much looser though. "Is that what came between you and Shuichi?"

She expected him to lie or to lash out like she was used to. She didn't expect to see his eyes turn watery. He took a deep breath, taking the bottle from her hands and pouring himself another shot. He took this one much more sedately. "What about you? I thought the idiot was head over heels for you?"

He was. That might have been part of the problem. They weren't very compatible and she didn't know how to fix it, but the way he always looked at her made her feel warm and special. She looked away from him as she mumbled, "Yeah. He was."

Kokichi laughed, rough and full of pain. "Yeah. It hurts more when they love you."

Maki clenched her hands around her thighs, not wanting to keep pulling at her hair. She closed her eyes, feeling like she was tensing her entire body. She thought she might pop. She kind of wanted to.

"Ten minutes to midnight," Kokichi said softly. "Almost over."

"Yeah, almost," she agreed. She wasn't really looking forward to the new year, but she hoped that it would be better than this one.

Kokichi put the bottle down next to him, lining it up with the shot glasses. "Hey Maki." He spoke softly, almost too softly to hear. She tilted her head toward him, watching him closely but staying silent. "Wanna start the new year with me?"

'What do you mean?" she questioned.

Kokichi chuckled. "Don't tell sober me I said this, but you really are cute sometimes."

Maki felt her face burning as she stared at him. "I... what?"

He smiled, turning to face her fully. "It's almost midnight," he reminded her. "Almost a new year."

"Yeah..." She wasn't sure where he was going with this.

Kokichi rolled his eyes. "Kiss me at midnight," he said plainly. 

Maki felt like she'd been hit in the back of the head with a baseball bat. "Huh!"

He took her hand and squeezed it. "Might as well start the new year off with something new, right?" His thumb stroked over her wrist and he was watching their hands, not her. "It's supposed to be good luck, right? Kissing someone at midnight. I'm not sure about you, but I could use a bit of good luck."

Maki wasn't sure what to say. The thought of kissing Kokichi wasn't one that she had ever considered before. She was surprised that the idea wasn't... unappealing. Maybe it was because the conversation between them had been relatively smooth and painless. Maybe it was the fact that she felt like she understood him for the first time since meeting him. 

Maki must have taken too long to answer, because Kokichi pulled away from her with a rueful smile on his face. "Shouldn't have asked that, huh? Sorry, we were having a nice time and I just.."

"Shut up," she said instinctively. She needed to think and she couldn't do that with his unneeded apology clogging up her brain. He surprised her by doing so, looking at her warily. "You didn't... I don't mind it," she eventually settled on.

He smiled at her. It was small, but sincere. The kind of look she had only seen him giving to Shuichi. She looked away from him, feeling the burning in her cheeks again. He leaned his head on her shoulder once more. "Maki Maki's kinda cute when she's not threatening anyone."

"Shut up!"

He laughed, rubbing his face in her arm. He checked his watch but the noise from inside increased near the same time. They were counting down. One minute to midnight. Kokichi tilted his head to look at her. "Sure you wanna do this?"

She puffed out her cheeks. "Don't want to kiss me?"

He smiled. Not a wide grin like earlier, but softer. Warmer. It made her heartbeat a little faster. "I want to," he admitted.

They were counting down from ten now. Maki decided to take the initiative and take his face in her hands, but after that she froze. He smiled at her kindly, pressing one hand over hers on his cheek while the other went behind her head, pulling her closer. She closed her eyes as he pressed their lips together. Soft, chaste, and warm. Her heart was thumping in her chest. Her friends were cheering inside. The moment dragged on for longer than she expected it to and she enjoyed it similarly. Kissing Kokichi was exceedingly pleasant. Part part of her thought that she wouldn't mind doing so again.

Then the moment was over and Kokichi was pulling away. When she opened her eyes, he looked just as shocked and spellbound as she felt. "That was..." It was rare that Kokichi was at a loss for words, but she felt exactly the same way.

"Yeah," she nodded. "It was."

He leaned close to her, pulling her head back down so that their foreheads touched. "I wouldn't mind... doing that again? Some time?" The question was hesitant, soft. Safely tucked into the space between them like it was a secret. She liked the feeling.

"Yes," she breathed out. "I... would like that."

It was the fist day of a new year and Maki felt surprisingly hopeful. 

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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[finelinevogue]

could you write something about the readers parents not liking her and harry comforts her please

ok this is going to be quite sad and angsty so hold on tight!

Y/N was crying in her room. Again.

This was turning out to be a daily occurrence now. Wake up. Get shouted at. Go to school. Learn how to dissect a frog and master how to write the perfect essay. Come home. Get shouted at. Sleep. The weekends, she didn’t get all the good in-between stuff, it was just waking up to be shouted at.

For what? Well not even Y/N could answer that.

Her parents had despised her since the day she was born, or at least Y/N presumed. She was never allowed to go out without permission from her parents. She was not allowed to eat certain foods, because “she didn’t need to be any fatter”. She wasn’t supposed to wear anything inappropriate. She wasn’t allowed relationships. Although that last one, she cheated on.

Harry had been Y/Ns best friend all through high-school, until they reached college and Harry couldn’t wait any longer to make her officially his. He wanted her so badly. She was his best friend but he craved for more. It took Y/N a lot of persuading, but it was the best thing she’d ever done for herself. Harry was kind to her. He treated her with respect and love - something she’d never had from her parents.

Having a relationship whilst being instructed you weren’t allowed one, made things very difficult. Harry could only see Y/N when she allowed him to. After finishing chores she would tell her parents she was going to grab food or cleaning supplies from the grocery store, only to go and spend a few hours with Harry in his treehouse. She would always come back with a bag full of shopping and made sure she covered the hickeys on her neck well. It would be hard to explain their origin of those marks to her parents.

“Y/N!”

Her mum had never provided her with a nickname, only ever calling her by her proper name. Harry gave her nicknames and pet names galore; baby, honey, sweetheart, lovie, darling and petal to name but a few.

You had learnt that shouting back was “never okay” so you left your bedroom and walked down the stairs to find your mum, who’d just shouted for you.

“Yes mum?” You timidly asked, standing at the door with your fingers fiddling with each other.

Your mum turned and scoffed at the sight of you. “Oh Jesus Y/N! You look horrible. That dress is disgusting.” It just so happened to be your favourite dress - a simple, long - as necessary - white dress with pretty flowers embroidered in baby pink and blue across the skirt. It made you feel like a weightless princess. “Don’t you agree?” Your mum asked your dad.

“Oh yes. Too much fat showing.” Your dad lovingly commented back.

You looked down at yourself, thinking that maybe it was showing a bit too much skin and therefore showing off your fat. Harry always told you that you were completely beautiful - an angel - but it was hard to believe on days like this. You crossed your arms over your chest in discomfort. Speaking back would only make things worse, so you took the verbal abuse as it came.

“Now,” your mum sat up a bit more, “i’m finding it really hard to look at you right now, Y/N, because i’m hurt by you.” Tears, fake of course, were forming in her eyes.

“W-why?”

“Mrs Tucker said she saw you and a young boy kissing outside the grocery store the other night - the same night you said you were going to pick up cleaning supplies.” Your heart dropped to your feet, because it was true. You had been with Harry. You’d never thought about anyone catching you, mainly because you thought no one cared about you enough. Mrs Tucker does like a good gossip though, dammit.

“A boy Y/N!” Your dad shouted in reiteration, making you flinch to the noise.

“Now I told Mrs Tucker that was being silly. That lady will do anything for a natter.” You stilled, thinking you were off the hook, but you should ‘t have been so quick to let your guard down. “Until your dad and I followed you to the grocery store the next night, although we never reached the store did we Y/N? No we were outside a house instead.”

Oh no. You are so dead.

“A boys house, Y/N? You weren’t raised to be a whore.” Your dad spat at you, turning away from you as if the sight of you was disgusting.

“God knows who he is or what you’re doing with him, but it stops. Right now, today.” Your mum gritted through her teeth, obviously trying to keep her calm.

“But—”

“No!” You mum screamed. “I will not be seen as the mother of a daughter who sleeps with random boys, instead of studying and working hard for her family!”

This was so 1800s. This was your life.

You had actual tears forming in your eyes now, unlike those your mum bared. It was so silly that this was making you cry but you were so upset that they thought they could control your life this way. It was devastating.

“I-I.. I love him though.” You choked out between tiny sobs, “I love him.” You whispered - that having been the first time you’d told someone else other than Harry. It actually felt good. Relieving. To declare your love for Harry made the world feel possible.

“Love? You no nothing about love.” You dad rolled his eyes and you couldn’t help but laugh at his words.

“The only reason I don’t know about love is because I never got it from either of you.” You started to fight back. This was a battle you were determined to win. No more hiding behind a timid figure. You were willing to stand up for yourself - no one else was going to.

“Because there’s nothing to love about you!”

You didn’t recall who this came from, all you remember is your heart dropping below the floor and fleeing from the room. Fleeing from the house. Fleeing from a family who didn’t see you as anything but a human being. You weren’t a daughter to them. You were nothing. Your heart called elsewhere. It yearned for the person closest to you.

It wasn’t until you were met with Harry’s front door that you realised where you were and what had happened.

“Oh Y/N! Hi lov—” Anne greeted you, until she saw that you were crying heavily and your chest was rising rapidly. “Harry!” She shouted into the house, leaving you a brief moment to collapse onto the floor in front of you. You didn’t care for the pain that ran through your knees from the impact - only the pain in your heart from the break it had just suffered.

“Woah angel, hey, hey.” Harry was by your side within seconds, completely incasing his body around you. Your head laid buried against his warm chest and his arms hugged you close to him like never before. His smell was one of home. He encompassed you and made you feel safe and loved. You weren’t alone.

“I-i’m unloveable.”

“But I love you.” Harry whispered against your hair, warm air softly kissing your skin.

“Yes, but—”

“No, “but”. I love you, Y/N L/N, I really fucking do. You’re my other half, baby.” He kissed your forehead a few times, knowing that’s your second favourite place to be kissed. “Your parents don’t deserve you, they really don’t. They’re cruel and cold-hearted, but that doesn’t mean I am. I think you’re beautiful, clever and kind. I think you’re everything i could ever want. And I know that you can’t be unloveable, because i’m, so deeply, in love with you.”

Harry continued to rock you, as your cried into his chest. You’d never believed in yourself before meeting him and you never thought that he could be so genuine towards you. He couldn’t care less what your parents think, as long as he helped remind you that you’re none of what they think of you. You’re so much better than mindless words. You make you you, not your parents. Harry’s helped you discover who you are and who you want to be. Even though your miles from becoming who you want to be, and you have your setbacks, you’re proud of how far you’ve come.

You cried against his chest, until the pain softened and your could regain your breath again. You unburied yourself from his hold and looked up to him with love in your eyes.

“There’s my beautiful girl, looking like a princess in you pretty dress.” He smiled down at you, even though you knew you had puffy eyes, red cheeks and a snotty nose. He loved you and all your perfect imperfections.

“Thank you, H.” You said with a wobble to your lips, really meaning your words.

“I know, baby.”

“I really do love you too.” You made sure he knew. His heart fluttered a little faster over your words. He leaned down to kiss you gently, minding all the salty water and grimy snot that laid on your face. His kiss sent butterflies swarming through your stomach and a new type of red appeared on your cheeks.

“Waffles anyone?” Anne asked as she stood at the door, the smells of sweet honey and cream only hitting you now. It was that moment that you realised your heart had never belonged with your parents, your heart belonged here, with Harry. Forever and always.

[midgardianweasley]

I‘d love to see you write an angsty fanfic with Natasha x reader (male or female is up to you) with a bad ending of your choice.

No pressure of course ✨

as requested Violet!! I hope it's okay<3

How could you do this to me?

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha hasn’t been around recently and Y/N’s been really missing her company, but that changes when some CCTV footage is discovered.

Warnings: Cheating, swearing.

Word Count: 3.6k

there was an attempted proof read, but sorry in advance if i've missed anything!!

message/ask to be added to the taglist<3

Requests are open!

You weren’t surprised when you woke up to an empty bed once again, the space beside you missing a red-head assassin. You’d grown used to the sight of bedsheets spread lazily on your side of the bed, almost completely thrown off of the edge. It wasn’t unusual, however, the feeling of disappointment that lingered in your chest every morning never eased with time.

‘I’m just off to train, baby.’

‘I need to go and see Fury about this next mission, you go back to sleep’

‘I forgot to debrief the team last night, so we need to have a meeting this morning instead.’

‘Off to get some breakfast, my love. I’ll save you some eggs.’

Those were the typical reasons you received whenever you questioned where she was going in such a hurry in the mornings. You knew she was busy, of course you did. But, you missed the mornings when she’d pull you back into her chest, refusing to let you leave until you gave her a few kisses, which never ended up just being kisses, but you always gave in either way.

Now that you think of it, you can’t remember the last time she held you. Not properly. She used to hold you in a death grip, so tight that you could almost feel her heartbeat in your own chest. Nowadays, you were lucky to get more than a few taps on the back, it felt like you were being congratulated for something.

You’d always brushed it off, thinking that you must’ve been selfish for wanting so much of her attention, you had to be more understanding of how demanding her job is. It wasn’t like you never tried, you did, everyday. It would just be nice to feel her love for you a little more, even if it was just a quick peck before she left in the mornings.

“Hey Wan’, Hey Vis” You smiled at the pair as they stood at the kitchen counter, cracking eggs and buttering some toast. They loved cooking together, Wanda always told you how cute it was when Vision was trying to learn, especially after his fiasco with the Paprika.

“Hi Y/N, want something to eat?” Wanda handed you some toast, which you took gratefully, slowly munching on it.

Vision looked up as though to engage in conversation, when he then looked around in confusion. “Where’s Ms. Romanoff?”. You shrugged.

“I’m not sure, I think she’s training, I’ve not heard from her yet.”

You were looking at Vision, but it was near impossible to miss the sympathetic look Wanda was giving you. She knew about how you’d been feeling with Natasha not being around so much, she had tried to help, to hint to Nat that you’d been feeling a bit neglected for a while now, but she hadn’t gotten very far.

“Nat, nat, I just think that maybe you should spend a little more time with Y/N” It was obvious the assassin wasn’t listening to her, shrugging it off and trying to walk past the witch, only to have a hand pressed on her chest to push her backwards.

“Wanda, I need to go, I'm running late.”

“you’re always running somewhere. I'm sure Fury, or Tony or whoever you’re in such a rush to see, can wait. You haven’t seen your girlfriend in forever.”

“I saw her last night.”

“Crawling into bed in the early hours of the morning and sleeping next to her, isn’t seeing her, Nat.”

Her words fell on deaf ears as she watched her friend turn around and walk the other way. She could’ve used her powers to stop her, she didn’t see a point though. She wasn’t listening, and she couldn’t force her to.

“It's fine though, honestly! I can hang out with you guys today if you’re not busy?”

the couple shared a look of awkwardness before looking back towards you.

“Actually, we were going to go into town and do some sightseeing. You’re welcome to join us though!” She smiled, not wanting you to be alone, which you were grateful for, but you couldn’t intrude.

“No no, don’t worry! I think I've got something Tony wanted me to check out in the Lab, now that I think about it.” You didn’t. “You guys have fun though! take pictures!” You winked, knowing full well that your best friend didn’t believe you, she hesitated before nodding her head in agreement and beginning to walk off with Vision in tow.

__________________

An hour or so went by, you still hadn’t seen Natasha at all, or anyone, really. They all seemed to have disappeared to do their own thing, leaving you to find yours. So, you found yourself wandering into your lab, where you found Tony observing the screens with an endless amount of data changing every couple of seconds. You never really understood how he made sense of it all so quickly, but you’d always been intrigued nonetheless.

He must’ve sensed someone was there, as he broke away from his train of thought and glanced over towards you, fully acknowledging how your shoulders were slumped and your eyes lacked your usual sparkle. Tony alway had a soft spot for you, he’d known you for years, taking on a role similar to a father’s. Seeing you look so defeated recently, it’d hurt him a little more than he cared to admit.

Gesturing for you to come in with a gentle smile before moving and adjusting various chunks of metal on the table in the centre of the lab.

“Ah ah!” He tapped the bridge of his nose

“You can’t be serious! Tony I-”

“Nope”

“I’m a grown woman!” You laughed in disbelief at his

“Yes, you are, and I do not plan on taking said grown woman to medical because she got a shot of electricity through her eyeball. Put them on.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up a pair of the obnoxiously large lab goggles and put them over your face. He really took being a ‘father figure’ too seriously sometimes. With your goggles on, you took yourself over to where he stood, hoping to help him out somehow and keep yourself occupied.

You watched him move around blueprints on the screen above. “So, whatcha working on?”

“Well, remember that last mission we went on? How that ended?”

“Well, considering I had to get bullets removed for the last two hours, I’d say I remember pretty well.”

His face cringed slightly “Yeah, that’s the one. I’m basically just trying to layer the suits more, but keep the weight to a minimum so that there’s more protection, but the speed and mobility is almost, if not, the same.” He pondered, mind wandering off again to try and figure out how he could make this work.

Suddenly springing to action, he started assembling some pieces together, chucking some aside and reaching for different tools he required.

Looking towards you, he tilted his head “Can you pass me the-”

His sentence was interrupted. “Hey Tony, hey-” Banner. You didn’t mind Bruce, he was always quite quiet and polite most of the time, a little awkward, but, when you have a literal Hulk inside of you, it’s probably the least of your concerns.

You waved at the Avenger. “Hi Bruce” You gave him a friendly smile, for it to be returned with an awkward gaze, which he tried to quickly shove off.

“Yeah, uh, hi, Y/N. W-what brings you here?”

“Oh, no particular reason, I wanted something to do so I thought I'd come down, just pay a visit.” He nodded, acknowledging your words but appearing a little on edge, almost.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked “You look a little pale?”

“Yeah, yeah n-no I'm fine, just a-a bit tired.” He stuttered before suddenly directing his attention towards the man standing beside you. “How’s it coming along, Ton’?”

“Not bad, I have a wonderful assistant to help me out.” he nudged you playfully.

“Haha, yeah. She’s great. Anyways, you seem to have a good hold on things, so, I’ll leave you to it and come back later.”

Neither of you had managed to get a word out before Banner had walked out and was already out of sight. You turned to face Tony again.

“Was that- did you find that weird at all?”

“I find most of the people in this compound weird.”

It was a serious question, but you couldn’t help but let out a laugh at the millionaire’s response.

“I do pride myself on it.”

“As you should. You’re the weirdest one.”

“Hey!” You slapped his arm. “Rude!”

“I’m kidding! Now, pass me that screwdriver, goggles.”

Chuckling, you threw him the screwdriver and zoned out thinking about Bruce’s weird behaviour. While Tony was right, the majority of us are weird. You couldn’t stop thinking about how unusual it was, even for him. You put it to the back of your mind though, focusing back on what the man beside you was working on. You’re sure it’s fine.

________________________

You thought you were going crazy. First you had Nat, who was disappearing every chance she got, Then you had Bruce who couldn’t look you in the eye and when you finally believed it couldn’t get any weirder, you picked up on some strange vibes from Steve.

“Oh finally! I was beginning to think no one else actually lives here.” You approached Steve who seemed to be walking and talking with Bruce, both taking a step back when they looked towards you.

“Hey Y/N, we were just-”

“We were just about to go and have a shower. Training.” Steve cut in, earning himself a glare and a shake of the head from the scientist beside him, subtle, so you hadn’t noticed, otherwise you would’ve questioned it.

“Oh? You were training too, Bruce?”

“Well, I-” He glanced at Steve. “Yeah. Yeah, I, uh, wanted to get some combat down, just in case I needed it.”

“Considering our last mission, I think we all should.” the super soldier quickly added, sending you an enthusiastic smile, which you had returned. You went to speak again, possibly inquiring as to whether or not they knew where your girlfriend was, but you hadn't had the chance as the pair of them quickly rushed off, muttering something about catching you later, leaving you on your own, once again.

What the hell was going on?

_____________________

Feeling defeated, you trudged your way into your bedroom, just wanting to shower, get into bed and sleep, and hope for some form of normality.

What you hadn’t expected, was to walk in and see the back of a familiar figure sporting the black suit she practically lived in, tying her hair into a low bun and beginning to change into some more comfortable clothes.

You were dating, so it wasn’t new to see Nat changing, but you still thought it would be decent to make her aware of your presence. The small “ahem” was enough to make her spin round and flash you a smile, her pearly white teeth on show.

“Hi babe, i’m just changing for bed. You okay?”

The words felt so unfamiliar to you, having not heard them in what felt like forever. Still, you decided to humour it.

“Yeah, yeah I'm okay. A bit of a weird day is all.”

She laughed, returning to laying out her clothes. “Well, we are surrounded by some weird people.”

“That’s what Tony said.”

There was an atmosphere in the air that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. It had always felt comfortable with Natasha, you would describe her company as being like a safety blanket, enveloping you with warmth and a sense of security. This felt different. It didn’t feel familiar anymore, it was like you were face to face with a stranger and the more you looked at her, the more it upset you.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Natasha put her palms on your cheeks, bringing your Y/E/C eyes to meet her emerald ones in the process. You hadn’t realised that tears had fallen until the pad of her thumbs gently brushed them away.

“I just, it sounds so stupid.”

“Tell me.”

You let out a sigh, eyes beginning to dart around the room. “It just feels like I’ve never seen you, I don’t remember the last time we’ve spoken and it’s, it’s been lonely.” Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion at your response, lips falling into a frown, but you were quick to speak again.

“It hasn’t just been you though, I understand that work gets in the way, but, it felt like some members of the team were acting differently around me.”

“Really? Like who?”

“Well, I mean, Bruce could barely bring himself to say anything more than a sentence to me and I tried to speak to Steve just before I came here and he rushed off like his life depended on it. I don’t know, maybe I’m just being a bit paranoid.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Detka, I wouldn’t worry about it.” She whispered, hands pulling you forward with ease to bring your lips together. You smiled at the contact, you’d missed it.

You were so caught up in it, that you hadn’t noticed you were the only one smiling.

It wasn’t long before the both of you were interrupted by an electronic voice in the room.

“Miss Romanoff, Miss Y/L/N.” It was F.R.I.D.A.Y. “Mr Stark is asking for you both in the conference room.”

“Alright, thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y., we’re on our way.” Your girlfriend replied, rushing away from the kiss and leading you to the door.

Why was everyone in such a rush today?

_______________________

“So, I was messing around with some things in the lab, and I think I've found a solution to our suit issue. It’s still a work in progress because I'll need to tweak some things and then tailor them blah blah blah, but I thought I'd show you guys the latest. JARVIS?”

“Bringing up footage 182.”

While you waited for the video to be up and running, you took note of everyone sitting around you. For the most part, they looked tired, though you don’t blame them, it was pretty late.

Shuffling to your left, you held Natasha’s hand in yours, sending her a loving gaze before resting your head on her shoulder, just content that she was close by. She sat a little straighter at the action, careful not to push you off of her, but not entirely relaxing either.

The large tv screen lit up, a view from the corner of the lab came into sight where you could see Tony installing different wires and pieces of loose metal into the suit, watching it light up as he did so. He was in the middle of explaining what he was doing as the recording went on, when the screen suddenly turned to static, black and white lines taking over the screen.

“JARVIS?”

“Minor technical issue, working on it, Mr Stark.”

You caught Wanda’s eye across the table, a playful smirk plastered onto her face at the mishap, watching the billionaire get stressed over a television. You couldn’t help but laugh at the words flying from his mouth as he started hitting the remote, as if he was someone who didn’t understand technology.

It wasn’t long before an image appeared back on the screen, however, this wasn’t the same recording. This is from the gym. It focused on one of the square mats in the middle of the room where two people were sparring. One of which, you immediately recognised as Natasha.

The other person definitely wasn’t a girl, their hair was short and muscles so big you were worried that one slice would be the end. It zoomed in a little, and from the blonde hair and dark blue outfit, you pieced together who it was.

“Oooh, Black Widow and the SuperSoldier, one vs one. Now this should be interesting.” A previously tired looking Sam clapped his hands and leaned forward, now fully invested in the scene in front of him.

You turned to Nat, who now looked a little paler than she did before.

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, don’t tell me, you lost this spar?” You joked, expecting her to join in and tease you back. Instead, her face displayed an emotion you weren’t entirely sure of.

Before you could question it, you noticed the room fall silent. Not even a breath could be heard in the room. Your head turned slowly, meeting a mixture of shocked and sympathetic faces. And that was when you saw it.

Nat had kissed Steve, and he didn’t stop her.

If you weren't aware of your heartbeat before, you couldn’t be now, for it felt like it had completely stopped. Your jaw fell as your eyes filled with tears, only worsening the longer you saw the two of them on the screen. It was only turned off when a third person walked into view, not needing to ponder on who it could be, you immediately faced guilty stares. Three of them.

“You- you kissed-” You stuttered, incapable of forming a sentence towards your teammate. “And, you knew?” Your voice broke, tears now beginning to find their way down your cheeks for the second time as Bruce couldn’t bring himself to answer you.

You swiftly rose out of your seat, attempting to keep yourself composed until you could be alone.

“Baby-” Natasha murmured, trying to take hold of your hand, which you snatched back before she could lay a finger on it.

“Don’t.”

“Please-”

“Leave me alone.” You spat, speed walking out of what now felt like an overcrowded room.

You didn’t hear it, you’d left too early, but if you had stayed, you would’ve heard the team give Nat and Steve the scolding of their lives, mainly from Wanda and Tony, telling them how disappointed they were in them both. How they’d be lucky if you were to forgive them for what they did.

________________________

You don’t know how long you’d been sitting on your shared bed for. It could’ve been an hour, it could’ve been a couple of minutes. All you knew, was that you couldn’t stay in this room much longer, looking at the picture frames and the shared wardrobe, it just felt painful.

So, you walked over to your wardrobe and gathered every item of your clothing into your arms, lacking any care for if there were hangers or labels in the way, and chucked them on the bed and started to chuck it all into a suitcase intended for holidays but, you don’t see that happening anytime soon.

The sound of sniffles and rustling was all you could hear in the room, so much so that it was suffocating, and it didn’t help when you heard the door creak open.

“What are you doing?” A voice squeaked. Natasha stood beside the door, fidgeting with her fingers as she anxiously bounced from one foot to the other. You didn’t even bother to look up in her direction, focusing solely on getting out of there as soon as you could.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I didn’t mean it.” You scoffed at her attempt at an explanation. “I love you.”

That’s what made you whip your head to see her red and puffy eyes, if this was any other situation, you would’ve rushed over and engulfed her in a hug, tell her that everything would be okay and you’re there for her. Now? All you felt was anger.

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t have kissed him.”

“I didn’t know-”

You stood up straight, almost laughing at her choice of words. “You didn’t know? Bullshit. I’m pretty fucking sure everyone is aware when they kiss someone. Did you know when you were kissing me then? Or did you not know that either?”

“I wasn’t thinking.”

“I don’t think I care.”

She tries to step closer to you, only for you to take one back, holding your hand out, indicating for her to stop.

“No. no, you know what Nat, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to treat me like a stranger for weeks, like I'm sharing a bed with someone I don’t know, for you to then kiss someone else and expect me to forgive you. You have no idea how I've felt these past weeks, blaming myself and thinking I was selfish for wanting your time. It’s funny, really.”

She looked away from you, regret taking over her features, both of you now having tear stains covering your rosy red cheeks.

You broke the silence once again. “Was that the first time?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Y/N-” She pleaded

“Answer the question, Natasha.” You spoke through gritted teeth.

Silence returned to the four walls.

“Get out.”

“No, no, we-” She stepped forward, only to halt herself when she realised what she was doing.

“There is no ‘we’. We’re done. I’ll have my stuff moved back into my room by tonight, though I'm sure it won’t make much of a difference to you.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Whatever.”

She walked out of the room, hesitating slightly, wondering if it’s worth staying and trying to figure out whatever this is. She shook her head to herself, knowing she’d fucked up. There wasn’t a fight anymore. It was done.

Collapsing on the bed, the feeling washed over you again as the finality of it all set in. You didn’t stop though. You packed your clothes, your perfumes, all of your loose hair ties and left the room with only one thought on your mind.

Natasha won’t even notice the difference.

Taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @wandaromanova

[pies-writes-and-more]

Karasuno boys when you wander away

Characters: Tsukishima Kei, Dachi Sawamura, Asahi Azumane, & Kageyama Tobio, all with a Fem!Reader

Warnings: probably some swearing but nothing besides that :) 

A/N: So this is somewhat based on my IRL relationship haha. I’m very bad with just walking away or getting distracted by something and always worry my partner xD thought it would make for some cute headcanons! Let me know if you’d like more!

Haikyuu Masterlist

Tsukishima had only looked away for a moment. He walked towards a fresh fruit stand, glancing at the peaches and wondering if you wanted one to snack on on the way home. He glanced back and his lips parted to ask you, but you were no where to be seen.

His lips turned into a frown, trying not to give into that small moment of panic as his eyes scanned the outside market. You were no where to be found nearby. His heart pulsed harder against his chest as his mind reminded him of that news story of girls going missing in public places. Tsukishima pushed through people, giving half-assed apologies as he thought about you being dragged away and no one noticing. How had he not noticed? How would he find you? What should he do now?

His heart raced as he continued to look for you, giving out a small yelp when he felt someone grab his hand.

“Tsukki?” You were suddenly next to him, smiling innocently up at him. “Are you okay?”

The rush of relief that came with seeing you next to him was followed with frustration. “Idiot! Where did you wander off to?” He scolded, his hand tightening on yours.

“There was a puppy,” you admitted with slight embarrassment, smiling shyly. “I just gave him a couple of pats - he looked so lonely. Everyone was ignoring him,” you explained, nodding towards an older man who was dozing off on a bench. He had a leash in his hand and a large dog sat next to his feet, eagerly watching people was if begging for someone to pet him.

Tsukishima shook his head in disbelief, “You scared me for a dog? Moron,” he grumbled, pulling you further into the market. He didn’t want to be in such a big crowd right now.

You giggled, trying not to note the redness in his ears, “Aw I’m sorry Tsukki, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You tugged on his arm gently, trying to give him an apologetic smile but he kept looking away from you.

“Whatever, get yourself lost for all I care,” he pouted slightly and you tried your best not to laugh at how such a tall boy could act like a 4 year old.

“I’ll stay with you, promise. Won’t ever leave your side!” you insisted, clutching his arm and beaming up at him.

Tsukishima glanced at your smile, noticing it looked... almost playful? “What?” He raised an eyebrow, already knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“You care about me,” you teased, reaching up to poke his nose playfully. “You were worried about me because you careeee about me.” You had expected him to pull his arm away, stomp off until you apologized for making fun of him.

But instead he just rolled his eyes, flicking your forehead gently, “Maybe just a bit.”

That surprised you just a little, your heart skipping a beat or two in response, “I am sorry, Tsukki, I didn’t think I went off that far. It just got really crowded,” you told him sincerely, squeezing his hand gently. “But lucky for me! You’re so tall so it’s easy to find you!”

Tsukishima scoffed some more but blushed anyways, feeling now like he had overreacted, “Whatever. You’re buying me a snack to make it up to me, idiot.”

“Mmkay!” You beamed, the two of you roaming the market together. Tsukishima pretended like he had completely forgotten the whole thing, but you noticed that he never let go of your hand that easily after that. And he always kept you close in crowded areas.

So yeah, maybe Tsukishima Kei really did care for you.

Daichi is a calm cool collected dude. Calm. Cool. Collected. It was as if he was chanting these words in his brain, eyes frantically trying to find you. CALM COOL COLLECTED, he desperately tried to remind himself. Everything is FINE.

But that still didn’t answer the question: where the hell could you have gone off to?

It was one of the first big matches that Daichi ever invited you too and the crowds were 10x bigger than anything you’ve been to. Daichi’s whole body trembled with the idea that you were completely lost and waiting for him to find you.

“I’m sure she’s alright, Daichi! Y/N’s probably just exploring,” Asahi clapped a hand onto his friend’s shoulder, though Daichi could tell he was nervous too.

“Stop being such worry-bums,” Suga insisted, smacking both of their arms. “Y/N can be as scary as the rest of us! No one would pick on her!”

You were fully capable of dealing with things yourself, Daichi knew this. But he felt a surge of protective energy anytime he felt you needed him. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbled to his friends, his feet quickly running around the gyms to try and catch a glimpse of you.

“Daichi!” Your voice made his eyes widen, darting around to try to find you. Suddenly, he was attacked with a full on jump hug, staggering backwards to keep them upright.

“Y-Y/N! Where’ve you been?” Daichi asked with a laugh, holding you tightly and trying to avoid showing you how nervous he was.

“Coach Ukai told me Hinata left his shoes in the bus so I went to grab it before the game! Shimizu-san and Yachi were both busy so I wanted to help!” You explained, smiling up at him while holding the little bag up for him to see. Your eyes flickered over Daichi’s for a moment, noting the slight blush on his cheeks and the way he couldn’t fully meet your gaze. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, your lips turning into a little smirk, “Were you worried about me, Daichi?” You teased and laughed as his face turned even more red.

“Well I can’t win without my lucky charm on the stands,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair.

“Oh and I just thought you liked me,” Y/N shot back with a laugh. “Didn’t know it was just cause of your game.”

You turned on your heel, starting to walk back to the gym, Daichi following while stammering out a, “I-I do liked you!” He tried to laugh off his nerves, rubbing the back of his neck as he gave you a smile, “Don’t make me all nervous before a game, love!”

You two shared some more laughs as everyone warmed up, and just before you headed to the stands, you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Daichi tried to play it off cool but he was wobbly the whole walk towards the team and the group of boys just laughed, all slapping his back in pride. 

Unlike the Cap’n, Asahi is not calm, cool, or collected. I mean I think he’s cool but not in this sense LOL.

Asahi and you decided to have a picnic for lunch in a nearby park. But while he was setting up, you magically disappeared and Asahi felt all of his panic just intensify.

Did you? Leave him? To be on his own? Was this your way of breaking up with him?

No, Asahi tried to convince himself, you loved him. You guys had been together for almost a year now, that’s not how you’d end thins... is it?

Maybe you got lost? Did Asahi walk a little too fast to this spot? He knew sometimes you had a hard time keeping up with his long legs but he thought you had been holding his hand this whole time.

His eyes scanned the somewhat busy park. He couldn’t find you anywhere. His heart was starting to beat way too fast and his fingers were shaking while he tried to text the other third years to ask what the hell he should do.

Suga: LOL knowing Y/N she probably saw some cute chipmunk or something and stopped to take a photo of it

Daichi: don’t worry, Asahi, she’ll probably find you soon - you’re this gigantic dude in a park. I doubt she’d lose you

That didn’t help. Now Asahi was noticing how parents and kids were specifically avoiding him. His bottom lip pouted as he wondered just what he could do to seem less intimidating. Should he sit down? No, what if you were trying to see him? Sitting would only make it harder!

Just as he was considering climbing up the nearby tree to see the park from a higher distance, you popped out from some nearby bushes, holding a few wildflowers.

“Asahi?” You blinked in surprise, finding him trying to find a foothold on the tree. “Are we... eating in the tree?”

“Y/N!” The poor boy almost knocked his head on the tree when he turned around to see you, eyes widening. He immediately ran over to you and twirled you around in a hug, “God, you scared me!” 

You quickly apologized profusely seeing how nervous he was, “I’m sorry, Asahi! I saw some pretty flowers over there and thought maybe it would be nice to decorate our tablecloth with!” You kiss his nose and cheeks over and over again trying to get him to calm down (but really that’s just making him more flustered).

The two of you share a gorgeous meal together, and you spend the rest of the day with his head in your lap and you braiding his hair, intertwining some of the flowers you found. The two of you talked about everything and anything and Asahi made sure from that day forward, he could always spot you. Any time you guys weren’t holding hands or standing next to each other, everyone noticed that Asahi’s eyes would dart over to you every now and then, whether consciously or unconsciously. 

When he got home that night, he pressed the flowers you put in his hair in a book and kept them as a keepsake. And then gave them to you in a gift for your anniversary later.

Kageyama would start feeling panic and wouldn’t even know why. The game was starting soon and something just didn’t feel right. His muscles? No… he felt in tiptop shape. He stretched a little extra today too to make sure he wasn’t feeling stiff. His stomach? No, he made sure to have some food and milk a little earlier. And he wasn’t feeling nauseous so it couldn’t be that. His hands? No, they felt perfect in fact. He was so excited for this game earlier, he had felt the anticipation running to his fingers to just set the perfect ball. So why was he feeling so uncomfortable?

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think about what was making him feel different. His eyes scanned the crowd unconsciously before realizing what it was.

You weren’t standing up there with the rest of the Karasuno fans.

Where the hell were you?

His feet moved towards the gym doors before Ukai yelled at him, “Where the hell do you think you’re going, Kageyama? The game is staring soon!”

Kageyama’s eyes widened, noting the whole team watching him curiously. Why did Kageyama seem so nervous? He never seemed nervous.

“Don’t worry, Kageyama, with my spikes better than ever, we’re definitely going to win!” Hinata grinned, trying to lighten the tense air in the team.

“I’m not worried, just don’t be stupid on the court,” Kageyama replied, shrugging it off. But his eyes still scanned the stands. Where were you? You had said hello to the whole and wished Kageyama luck just a few minutes ago? So how come you weren’t standing up there with Coach’s friends and Yachi?

The whistle blew to indicate the game starting and Kageyama felt his stomach turn. Why was he feeling like this? You were probably fine so what did it matter?

You had been buying some milk from the nearby vending machines to make sure that Kageyama had some after his game. You knew that he had accidentally finished all the ones he had packed earlier and had been kinda crabby about it so you thought maybe it would cheer him up. You had stood in line for the vending machine for what felt like forever but it was all worth it knowing that you could throw the milk boxes into your lunch bag to keep them cool. Knowing Kageyama would be excited about it made you really happy.

As you walked back towards the gym, you could hear cheering. Your eyes widened as you realized that the game had already started and you ran towards the stands.

“Y/N! There you are!” Yachi’s smile looked oddly nervous. Not that she wasn’t normally nervous at these games, but this one seemed different. “I think something’s wrong with Kageyama.”

Your eyes shot down to the court, seeing how stiff Kageyama looked next to everyone else. They were patting him on the back, yelling “We’ll get the next one!” and Noya screaming, “BRING IT ON!”

“He was looking for you in the stands earlier I think,” Yachi told you with a small giggle, “He looked really nervous when he couldn’t see you.”

Your heart swelled slightly, wondering if Kageyama was off his game because he hadn’t been able to see you. “Kageyama!!” You yelled from the stands, cupping your hands around your mouth. The dark haired boy’s head shot up to look at you, a sense of relief growing on his face. “You can do it!!” You screamed some more, the people on the stands behind you yelling in support.

Even from far away, you could see his lips turn upward in a smile.

Alright, you both thought to yourself. Now we can get started.