#and it always makes me happy others are excited about their reunion too because no matter how many versions of them we see

[mobius-m-mobius]

still can't get over "our loki will be with our mobius" :')

Oh my gosh me too and it's lovely to hear from others who feel the same 🥺💖

Tbh I was trying to look at S2 with the lowest of expectations but they're making that so difficult when we keep getting glimpses and hints at Lokius being closer than ever! Their connection in S1 was already the ideal of what I look for and relate to so knowing "our Loki will be with our Mobius" is the one thing to get me to set my hesitations aside and enjoy whatever's in store! Here's to an amazing season 🥰

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 I LAUGH LIKE ME AGAIN (SHE LAUGHS LIKE YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: four years apart and the ultimate question is about to be answered: do you and dazai really still know each other, or are you clinging to a fantasy of the past? you decide to put it to the test with a game of wits and questions when dazai gets back to your apartment—but as the game drags on, dazai starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. worse, if maybe he would prefer to be wrong.

(wordcount: 14.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, smoking & drinking, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing, im rushing to get this out!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys here it IS - sorry it's late, but TRUST it's worth it. i'm so proud of this fic, genuinely one of the things im most proud of writing. this is technically a part 2 to he's my collar but can be read as a standalone

It takes far too long for Dazai to make it out of the Port Mafia headquarters, with both Akutagawa and Chuuya prowling about like the dogs they are. He wonders if you tipped either of them off—Chuuya, in particular—because the slug had been looking around like he was searching for someone. He thinks you’re entirely wretched for it, knowing that if he got caught, he’d be trapped in that damp and filthy torture chamber until he managed to finagle his way out, and he plans to make it known to you just how entirely displeased he is by the situation. 

The path to your apartment is achingly familiar, and the giddiness in his chest is something he hasn’t felt since the day he left. He knows that he should probably be more careful—he’s still in Port Mafia territory, your apartment spans the top floor of the easternmost building of the five towers—but he also knows that you’re the only one with direct access to the cameras in this building so he’s more reckless than he would’ve otherwise been. 

The floors tick up agonizingly slowly, Dazai swears that there must be something wrong with the elevator because it’s never taken this long before to get up to your place. His fingers thrum against his thigh, and his foot taps the ground impatiently. He paces from corner to corner within the small space like a caged animal. He thinks that maybe he should be taking advantage of the time alone, come up with some better excuses as to why he didn’t say anything to you before he left.

“I wouldn’t have left,” isn’t going to cut it. As true as it might be, it’s not the full truth, and Dazai knows you’ll be able to sniff it out in a matter of a few seconds with a clear head. He’s not walking into a cheerful reunion between old lovers, he’s walking into what’s about to be a stressful game of chess against a strategist whom Dazai has always considered a near-equal, a battle of wits against a woman whose whole life has revolved around political warfare. If he wants to keep his dignity intact and his secrets safe, he’s going to have to be incredibly cautious with what he says to you and even with how he reacts to what you say to him.

Still, he can’t help the giddiness. The excitement. He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much that it hurts. He’d thought that over time, the longing for you would go away, but it never did. If anything, it got worse because, over time, the pictures of you started to lack the soothing feeling they used to bring to the aching in his chest. Over time, he started to forget the sound of your voice and the sound of your laugh.

He’d known that you’d been sent away on foreign business not long after his last call to you, but he didn’t think Mori would actually keep you abroad for three whole years. He’d been hoping, maybe, that he could stumble into you one day. Or maybe just watch from afar, get close enough to hear the sound of your voice again. He’s been grossly denied of you for too long, and he knows that it’s of his own doing but that only makes it worse.

When the elevator dings, announcing his arrival on your floor, Dazai is sorely unprepared for the conversation about to take place. He steps into your penthouse, eyes drifting around the familiar vast space.

Like your office, not much has changed since the last time he was here. Your coffee table is still set down a few centimeters too close to the couch in the living room—the same couch he had his first kiss on with you when the two of you were sixteen and drunk on champagne celebrating a successful mission. You still hang your black jacket over a chair instead of properly on a hanger, it’s why it always has a crease on the back—he’d noticed it when you left your office, and he can’t help but smile slightly at the confirmation as his eyes linger on where it’s draped over one of your kitchen chairs. 

You tried to convince him that you’ve changed in the years the two of you have been apart, but Dazai doesn’t think you’ve changed much at all.

You’re leaning against the windows, looking down on the city—he knows you must’ve heard the elevator, but you haven’t bothered to look his way yet. There’s an indecipherable expression on your face and a glass of wine in your hand. You’re still dressed in your suit and Dazai notices there’s a glass of whiskey on the rocks untouched on the kitchen table. He shrugs off his trench coat and drapes it over yours, hoping that the scent of you seeps into it because he’s gone too long without it.

His fingers curl around the glass of whiskey you’d left out for him, and for a moment, he swears that he’s eighteen again. He’s making his way to your penthouse after a long mission with Chuuya, you’re expecting him—you always are—and he can never push away the fondness that squeezes his chest when he finds you lounging back on your couch, flipping through channels to find something to watch, a glass of his favorite whiskey set down on the coffee table next to where your feet are propped up as you wait for him to show up.

He wonders if you even care to remember what his favorite is. He wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

He makes his way out of the kitchen and back into the living room, and he’s reminded that he’s not eighteen and you’re not waiting for him to show up after a mission because you finally look at him, and his breath catches in his throat.

He thinks you look a bit older now than you did four years ago—to be expected, of course—and there’s a coldness to your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Impossibly, he thinks that you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were when he last saw you, and he realizes again, throat tightening, that even after three years of no contact with you, he’s just as in love with you now as he was the day he left.

He knew it back then before he left, even if he never said it. When he was eighteen and could only feel any inkling of pleasure when he was with you; it wasn’t like he’d never tried to have sex with other people, he’d whore himself out for information at any given chance and slept around frequently after you started dating a civilian to distract himself from the bitter jealousy he felt, but he’d never known how good it was supposed to feel until he slept with you for the first time. When he was seventeen and could only ever feel comfortable in your presence, seeking you out at any given chance when he couldn’t handle being around people anymore; he’d curl up in your office with your orange blanket, napping as you did work, knowing that you’d keep people away from him. He thinks he might’ve even known when he was sixteen when the two of you first met on the streets of the Kanagawa prefecture.

He wonders if you even believed him when he said it earlier—he doubts it, you don’t seem too keen to believe anything he says, and he doesn’t blame you for it. 

But whether you believe it or not, it’s yours—that rotted heart of his, shriveled and shabby, riddled with holes and decay, half-eaten by maggots and worms it might be, but it’s still yours. He thinks that it was meant to be yours since the moment he was born, and it’ll be yours even after the two of you are long dead. He doesn’t know how he’s meant to go without you again—he doesn’t think he can. He knows that despite the tentative ceasefire, the Port Mafia and the Agency are still enemies, but he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to leave you again. Even just the sight of you has condemned him completely. 

Then you speak, and at once, his entire world falls apart.

“I’m leaving again in the morning,” you finally say, tone flat and eyes sharp and shrewd as you look over him. He reminds himself that this is not a reunion, that he needs to get his head on straight if he wants to make it out of your apartment in one piece, but it’s hard. “I was only brought back to smooth things over with the government after the whole fiasco with Fitzgerald and his American cronies. I’ll be leaving for Russia in the morning to meet with Tolstoy and Nabakov. Hopefully, gain some intel on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s plans before the man makes another move on the city.”

He… did not anticipate that you’d be leaving again so soon. Something cold and sharp latches to his heart, like jagged nails ripping it apart. He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face.

“Be careful,” he tells you quietly. “Dostoevsky… he’s not someone to underestimate. Just-Just be careful.”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, “I’ve worked with Dostoevsky before. I don’t need you to warn me about him.” 

Your voice is cool. Sharp. Dazai sighs, knowing that anything he might’ve said to you earlier in the night is lost to you, and he doesn’t know if he’ll have it in him to bare his heart again, only for you to scorn it. He’s not meeting with you as he knows you—as his closest friend, as his lover; he’s meeting with you as the Port Mafia executive. Not the version of you that treats with allies, wining and dining them with glittering eyes and playful smiles as you use your ability to ensure they never turn on the Port Mafia; the version of you that sits at the round table with enemies, with a quick mind and calculating eyes as you decide whether or not they’re worthy of being absorbed into the Port Mafia or if Double Black will be sent out to eradicate them. 

“I told you everything I had to say back at the office,” Dazai tries, and he wonders if you’ll let him get away with it—he doubts it, but it’s worth a shot, and it will at least stall for a few moments as he tries to forcibly turn the cogs in his mind to figure out the best way of appeasing you. “I missed you. I… couldn’t say goodbye to you, not if I was to leave. I…”

I love you.

He doesn’t say it; he thinks he was only able to push it out earlier in the night in the heat of the moment, the orgasm-induced haze fogging his brain enough to let it slip out in desperation to make you give him a chance. And it worked because you gave him a second chance when you invited him back to your apartment, but Dazai doesn’t know how to make the most of the opportunity. He thinks he’s a fool for not preparing for this before getting here.

You click your tongue sharply, lip curling up in something close to disgust, and Dazai is glad he didn’t speak his ‘I love you’ because he thinks he might’ve actually cried if that was your reaction to him saying it.

“The only things you told me earlier in the night were half-truths and sweet talk. I didn’t invite you back to my apartment to hear you beg for another chance, Dazai,” you say coolly, and Dazai desperately misses the sound of his given name on your tongue. The corner of your lip curves up into a half-smirk, eyes suddenly glittering beneath the dim lighting of your penthouse as you add, “Although, I wouldn’t be opposed to it after we talk.”

He thinks the fact that you’re already considering an after might be a good sign. He can feel his cheeks flush a bit at your words, but instead of letting himself get rattled, he takes a step forward, well into your personal space, as he dips his face down so close to yours that his lips nearly brush yours as he speaks.

“I’d beg pretty for you,” he whispers, letting his voice drop an octave as his gaze tracks down to your lips. “I’d even get on my knees.”

Unfortunately, you are entirely unbothered by the proposition. “We’ll see, I suppose,” you say, and then raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to take a step back.

He does, and he feels distinctly put out and rejected by your reaction, but he sighs and asks, “What did you invite me here for then?” 

He very much does not like the way your eyes glitter now—shrewd this time, more amused, dangerous, as if you know the two of you are about to tread down territory that he’s going to be unfamiliar with. You nod for him to follow you into the kitchen, taking a seat at the head of the table and motioning for him to sit opposite you.

He does.

“We can play a game,” you finally concede. Dazai settles back against his chair, fingers still tapping rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, a terrible habit that Dazai has accrued whenever he feels cornered. Not a frequent occurrence, but damning when it is. Your eyes linger on them, and he knows you’ve pinpointed the tell. He forces himself to stop, but from the way your lips curl up, he can tell it doesn’t matter. “Ten questions each. Yes or no answers only.”

Dazai notices that you pointedly leave out any rule about the honesty of each answer—intentional, surely, so he probes.

“How do we determine the winner?” Dazai asks. He finally takes a sip of the fine whiskey you’d poured for him, and his question from earlier is answered. His favorite. There’s a warm feeling in his chest at the realization that you’ve remembered it even after all of these years.

Your lips curve up into a sharper and wider smile, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the soft lighting of your kitchen. The glass of wine in your hands is suddenly more reminiscent of a gun being pointed at him than your choice of alcohol, and he feels as if he’s already made some egregious mistake in your eyes.

“After we give our answer, the other has to decide whether or not it was truthful. In the end, we’ll both see how many the other got right. A test to see how well we still know each other,” is all you say in response. You’re mocking him and his insistence that the two of you are still the same, but Dazai intends to prove himself right. You tilt your head to the side and then say, “The prize is to be determined by the winner. I’ll ask the first question.”

Dazai winks, a lecherous comment already on his tongue about the prize, but the withering look you give him is more than enough to make it die before he can let it loose. He pointedly takes another sip of his drink and sinks in his seat.

He thinks that this should be an easy win. You’re quite the adept liar, but you’ve always had a glaring tell. Well, he amends, it’s glaring to him, at least. Not many others would be observant enough to catch it, and even if they were, only someone with an abundance of experience with you would be able to put it together. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, wondering if your lashes flutter right before you tell a lie. It’s such a simple and subtle tell, so casual that it took Dazai a year and a half to put together, but it was hard to miss once he did.

You hum to yourself as you give off the appearance of thinking about a question, but Dazai knows you better than anyone, and he’s certain that you already have all ten prepared, so he rolls his eyes at the faux show of uncertainty. 

“We both know you know what you want to ask,” he finally says. “Do us both a favor and quit with the theatrics.”

Your lip quirks up in amusement. “And here I was being gracious giving you more time to formulate whatever lies you’ll try to get away with,” you drawl, and Dazai nearly flinches.

“You know me so well,” Dazai sighs to hide how disconcerted he really is. “The question?”

You stare at him for a moment, and your lips curl up into a deceptively soft smile that almost throws Dazai off because, god, he’s missed you. And he knows you’re looking at him like this just for this specific reason because you’re a despicable bitch who knows that he’s always been easily unsettled when people show any semblance of affection toward him, but he can’t help the way he falters.

He tries to brace himself for whatever invasive question you’re about to ask regarding his reasons for leaving. Tries to prepare himself to lie cleanly because he’s sure you’re as aware of his tells as he is of yours. 

Then you ask: 

“Did you defect because of something Oda asked of you?”

Jesus. Right for the throat. You really don’t pull punches. 

Dazai’s throat tightens at the mention of his old friend, but he’s able to keep his expression clear of the sudden pain that your question brings on. You’re watching him carefully for reactions, gaze hawklike as you study his face, and Dazai is not about to let you pinpoint any more of his tells so early in the game.

He figures that this is an easy question; you already know the answer but want to hear the confirmation from his lips, so he decides to tell the truth.

“Yes.”

“The truth,” you say, an indecipherable expression on your face. He wonders if you want to ask what Odasaku asked of him, but that’s not part of the game and Dazai has no intention of answering that.

Be on the side that saves people. If both are the same to you, become a good man.

You might laugh in his face—Dazai Osamu, the Demon Prodigy, a good man? The idea is blasphemous, and he thinks it might actually hurt him if you scoff or laugh in response to hearing that, so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t give away more than he has to, hoping that you don’t just straight up ask him.

You open your lips to speak, and Dazai braces himself for the prying question, but instead, you only probe, “First question?”

He wonders if your whole first question and the implications of it was just a means of trying to throw him off because now he’s fumbling trying to remember what he wanted to ask you before you hit him with it. He wouldn’t put it past you to play dirty like that—bringing up his dead friend and his last request just to unsettle him to give you the edge.

“Did we meet during my underground years after I defected?” he finally asks, and yeah, he knows the answer to this question. The missing half of his ear and waking up in the old safe house he used to hide out at with you is more than enough evidence for him to come to a definite conclusion, but he wants to hear it from you.

“Yes.”

Dazai inhales sharply and then murmurs, “That’s the truth.�� And then, more loudly and far more affronted, he accuses, “I can’t believe you shot half of my ear off.”

He expects you to toss him a wink and a sharp grin, unrepentant and even finding amusement in his offense, but instead, your expression falters for the first time since he’s arrived. Something strange crosses your face; for whatever reason, his words leave you conflicted and Dazai suddenly feels even more nervous than he already was because now he can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said to you in his drunken state. 

He supposes that’ll have to be another question, but first, he’s going to have to figure out how to phrase it to get a yes or no answer first, without being vague enough for it to be a waste of a question or easy for you to misconstrue.

You hum after a few moments, taking a pointed sip of your wine. Dazai watches curiously—you’re bothered still, you’re not even trying to hide it. He knows you have better control over your facial expressions than this, so he thinks maybe it’s a ploy to get him to start spiraling down a path of useless questions. Put off by his sudden inability to discern your schemes, a part of him wonders if maybe you were right because the him of four years ago would’ve seen right through you right now.

“I’m afraid it had to be done,” you sigh with faux regret, but he can tell from the way the smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes that you’re not into the banter. “Were you able to fulfill Oda’s request?” 

Fuck. This time Dazai can’t withhold the grimace that spreads across his face. He tries to keep his voice light with a deflecting comment, “My, bella, you’re really hitting with the deep questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side as you wait for an answer, not giving him any room to formulate a response to your question. He finally sighs and shakes his head, taking a long sip of his whiskey. He wishes he had a pack of cigarettes on him, suddenly desperately longing for the pleasant burn of the smoke against his throat; he needs the buzz badly right now.

As if you could read his mind, you shift in your seat a bit and stuff your hand into the pocket of your slacks. It takes a few seconds but you fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, sliding them across the table over to him. If he wasn’t already so in his head over the question you asked, he’d make a quip over the fact that you still know him so well despite your insistence otherwise, but he only pulls out a cigarette and lights it, looking curiously down at the familiar brand.

“Since when did you start smoking these?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his head back and takes a long drag of it. He exhales slowly and then adds, “Thought you liked the other ones, in the green box.”

“Teal,” you correct, and then frown a bit. “... Switched after you left.”

Dazai’s eyes flutter back open as his gaze focuses on you, wondering if the implication you left up in the air is something he can take at face value or if it’s just another way of trying to get him to lower his guard. But from the way you suddenly don’t meet his eyes, Dazai thinks you might be being honest: you switched because they reminded you of him.

Dazai’s chest suddenly feels heavy again.

“... No,” he finally responds to your second question. “Not yet, at least.”

“... Truth,” you say, and Dazai’s lips curl into a wry smile.

“Unfortunately.” The word slips out before he can stop it.

Your gaze flickers back up to him, curious, but Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to dwell on his comment, asking his next question: “Did I… admit anything to you that night that I wouldn’t have said while sober?”

His fingers tap rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, half-empty now; he’s anxious to hear your response.

“You did,” you confirm.

Dazai grimaces because that’s another truth, and that is not good. But just like how he doesn’t offer any context for his answers, you don’t either. He doesn’t know what he might’ve admitted or how you might’ve taken it—he’s going to have to waste another question on this topic.

“Truth,” he murmurs.

You hum and then ask, “Do you still blame yourself for what happened to him?”

“Come on,” Dazai complains sharply, tossing you a dirty look now. His jaw is tight. He wonders if you keep asking about Oda as some sort of sick revenge for him leaving, ripping open wounds that never properly healed so you can dig your fingers into them and twist around. You don’t look bothered by his outburst, waiting patiently for a response. He lets out an angry sigh, looking away and taking another long drink from his glass and another drag of his cigarette. 

He voices his first lie, “No.”

You let out a puff of air, rising to your feet and making your way over to the opposite counter, you grab the bottle of whiskey and bring it back over to him, topping off his now-empty glass before pointedly holding out your hand. He passes the cigarette over to you, tilting his head back to watch you bring it to your lips—a part of him longs to lean forward, to slide his hand behind your neck and cradle your head as he brings his lips to yours, inhaling the smoke as you exhale it, dizzy off the proximity to you, high off the buzz of the nicotine, just like the two of you would do when before he left.

He refrains, if only barely.

You exhale the smoke, a small cloud billowing around you—Dazai mourns the waste—and then you pass the cigarette back over to him. Your fingers brush his as you do, and a spark shoots through his arm at the touch.

“A lie,” you finally say, looking down at him with a frown. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done to save him.”

“You don’t know that,” Dazai says tightly, averting his gaze from you as you make your way back over to your seat across from him. “If I’d been faster-”

“If Mori wants someone dead, then they’ll die,” you interrupt him, a grimace on your face as you look down at your wine glass. “Trust me, Dazai, there was no saving Oda Sakunosuke.”

Dazai pauses instead of snapping again, catching the expression on your face. Haunted, as if you’re speaking from experience. He tilts his head to the side and then asks quietly, “Are you talking about your ex-partner? Itou?”

If Dazai remembers correctly, he died on a mission when you turned eighteen. You never told him the circumstances, and he never asked, but it was the first and only time you ever broke down in front of him.

The corner of your lips tightens, “Is that your next question?”

Dazai barely withholds a frustrated sigh. 

“No,” he says quietly, and then asks, “Did I tell you why I couldn’t say goodbye? The real reason?”

He holds his breath now as he waits for your response. One way or another, this question is a double blade: if he did tell you why, then he’s at another disadvantage because he’s going to feel distinctly bare and vulnerable; if he didn’t tell you, he just admitted that he lied back at your office, at least partially. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally say, “Yes.”

The truth. Dazai wonders when you’re going to utter your first lie, if you will, or if you’re trying to make some sort of point by being honest with him. He voices his answer and then waits impatiently for your next question as his mind races.

He desperately wants to know how you responded to him back then. Would you have come with him had he come to you before he left? Or would you have chosen the Port Mafia? He wonders if he should ask, make it one of his remaining seven questions, but he doesn’t know if he has the guts to hear your answer, so maybe he’ll just change the subject.

“Are you enjoying yourself at the Agency?”

For the life of him, Dazai cannot figure out your angle. First, the prying questions about Oda and now asking about the Agency. He doesn’t know what he expected at the start of the game—you’ve always been unpredictable, but even more so now. He’s never had such a hard time reading you or your intentions before.

He starts to feel even more doubtful, wondering if you were right.

Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does anymore.

But this is an easy question, so he says the truth with little hesitation, “I am.”

Dazai swears the corners of your lips curl up into a soft smile, but it’s gone so quickly that he might’ve imagined it.

“Good,” you say quietly. “I’m glad.”

Dazai’s lips part, a warm feeling spreads through his chest at the honesty in your tone. Desperately, he wants to know what’s going on—where’s the rage and the betrayal he expected from you? The hate? Why do you seem… okay with all of this?

Irrationally, he starts to wonder if everything from the office was just a heat-of-the-moment conversation. If now that you’ve had time to sit on your thoughts, you’ve realized… realized what? That you’ve moved on from him? That you don’t care what he does anymore? That you’ve accepted that he’s no longer a part of your life? The warmth in his chest disappears, edged away by a sudden coldness and desperation because he thinks he’d rather die than go back to a life without you.

Even more irrationally, he remembers the comment you made back at the office, the admission that you’ve slept around since he left. Oh god, what if you really have moved on?

He knows his next question.

“The people you slept with—were they all one-night stands?”

He doesn’t want to know the answer unless it’s a yes.

You raise your eyebrows at the abrupt shift in his line of questioning, and then, to his absolute horror, you say, truthfully, “No.”

“What do you mean no?” he asks angrily—he thinks if he was a bird, he’d be puffing his chest out in irritation. He feels antsy suddenly, he needs to move around. He starts tapping his foot against the floor, his fingers against the glass. And again, he thinks you’re a despicable bitch because you only look amused at his question as if he’s not beside himself with righteous fury.

“It’s not your turn,” is all you respond with, and Dazai has a distinct urge to throttle you. Then you ask, “Do you feel like you belong there?”

He halts.

His fingers freeze from where they’re tapping against the glass, his foot freezes mid-motion. His lips part as he’s confronted with the very question that he’s been struggling with for two years now. He wants to yes, if only to maybe be a little spiteful, to rub in your face that he’s somewhere good and he’s somewhere where he belongs, and it’s not somewhere with you. A cruel dig to get back for the aching in his chest at the thought of you being with other people, but he knows that you’ll catch the lie, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to hurt you like that.

Maybe he has grown a bit because the Dazai of four years ago nearly killed your civilian boyfriend when he found out that you were dating someone besides him and then promptly made a show of sleeping around to try to get back at you.

So, instead, he says quite honestly, “I don’t know.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Not a yes or no answer, but I suppose it works. How curious.”

He hates your cryptic comments. Pointedly, he side-eyes you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. Already, it’s nearly down to the nub, so he puts it out on your table, ignoring the distasteful look you give him, and then reaches for another to light as he asks: “Were you in a relationship with any of them?” 

You roll your eyes at his prying, and he cannot hide the abject horror that crosses his face when you say, “Yes.”

“That better be a lie,” he complains, and when you look at him as if to ask if that’s really his guess, he makes a show of pushing out his bottom lip and looking away as he says: “I cannot believe you dated other people. Cheater.”

“We were never even dating, Daz-”

“Yes, we were,” Dazai protests instantly, entirely aghast at your words. “We absolutely were. What does that even mean? Of course, we were dating. Everybody knew it. Ask anybody. Ane-san knew. Gin-chan knew. Chuuya knew. Even Mori knew. We were so dating, you-”

“You never officially asked me to be your girlfriend, which is, unfortunately, the most fundamental step of dating,” you interrupt him, and Dazai stares at you in disbelief.

“I bought you flowers, we fucked exclusively,” Dazai complains, aggrieved. “We were definitely dating, and you definitely cheated on me because we never broke up.”

“If we were dating,” you emphasize the if very pointedly, and Dazai is distinctly put out by it, “then we broke up the day you left without saying goodbye.”

Dazai withers. He has no witty comment to return fire with, so instead, he just takes another sip of his whiskey, grateful for the combined buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine to distract him from the overwhelming guilt he feels whenever you bring up how he left you.

“Do you feel like you belong more with the Agency than you did with the Port Mafia?” 

Your next question is an amendment to your previous on, and it leaves Dazai just as lost.

He wants to belong with the Agency. He does. Desperately. He wants more than anything to feel as at home and comfortable in the light as he does in the dark. He doesn’t want to question his place among them anymore, he doesn’t want to wonder if he sticks out like a sore thumb. He wants to enter the office and feel like he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not, just so he can keep his place with them. He doesn’t want to have to fear at every corner that he’s going to revert to old habits, and they’ll see him for the monster that he is: a monster that should have never left the dark crevices that he crawled out from, a monster with blood so black that it strikes fear in even the most terrible mafiosos.

“No,” he admits the insecurity that’s plagued him to the one person he feels comfortable enough with to voice it aloud. He can’t bring himself to look up at you, wondering if the admission will give you some sort of sick satisfaction, if you’ll be happy that he’s not finding a place he can be comfortable in without you. Instead, he decides to rush to ask his next question: “The one you were in a relationship with, did you love him?”

He thinks that the question came across as far more timid than he meant it to be, and his eyes slide shut as he waits for your answer.

“There were multiple I had relationships with—” Dazai scoffs, of course, there were multiple. “—...but no, I did not.”

He lets out a soft puff of air, shoulders slumping a bit in relief. But his fingers are still tense around his glass, waiting for whatever question you’re going to ask next that’s going to dig deep into open wounds, stripping him of all of his masks and armor to force him to lay himself entirely bare in front of you.

“Did you really blow up Chuuya’s car before you left?”

His eyes fly open at the sudden change of pace in your questions, noting the smirk curling at the corner of your lips and the amusement glinting in your eyes. He accepts the olive branch quickly as he gives you a sharp smile and asks: “What do you think?” 

Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle a laugh, and the smile on Dazai’s lips becomes a bit softer as he watches you desperately try to get yourself under control. “You’re insane, you know that?” you finally say, still trying to bite back giggles. “He was so mad. Raged about it for weeks.”

Another question pops into Dazai’s head at the mention of Chuuya, and before he can consider whether or not he actually wants to know the answer to it, he asks: “Speaking of Chuuya, was he one of your trysts while I was gone?”

Suddenly, you are not laughing, and suddenly, Dazai regrets speaking.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Do not tell me-”

“He was,” you confirm.

Dazai’s glass of whiskey is empty. 

He grabs the bottle and drinks right from it, miserable.

“I think I would’ve rather been stabbed through the heart,” Dazai says mournfully, and though he keeps a faux-light tone with you, his throat feels like it’s swollen, and he feels a bit sick to his stomach.

He’s always been jealous of the bond you have with Chuuya. Absurdly jealous, even. You clicked with him quickly—you clicked with both of them quickly, and maybe it was a matter of the three of you being the youngest of the Port Mafia’s uppermost echelon, but Dazai doesn’t want to attribute it solely to that—but the way you clicked with Chuuya was different from how you clicked with Dazai. Two people so completely human locked away in the dark, clinging to one another to maintain some sense of normalcy; your and his casual humanity made Dazai’s lack of it irrefutable and glaring.

Regardless of the why, he never liked how close you were with Chuuya. 

Even before you were dating him—because you were dating him—a part of him had always felt sidelined whenever the three of you hung out together. Not because of either of your wrongdoings but just because it was hard for him to keep up with the two of you. He always felt a bit lost trying to, unable to follow along when the two of you would start laughing at jokes that he didn’t understand even when you explained them to him, when you would share glances with one another that spoke whole conversations he wasn’t privy to. The two of you got along in ways that Dazai would never be able to get along with anyone because there’s just something fundamentally wrong with him at his core. Chuuya, for all of his talk and fear regarding the question of his humanity, has always been so unfailingly human in ways that Dazai, to this day, cannot fathom to understand.

After you started dating him—because you were dating him—it only got worse because he’d see you with Chuuya and wonder if you were better off with someone like him instead. Dazai doesn’t know how to treat you right, clearly. He can’t even treat himself right; and Chuuya has always been the epitome of a gentleman, loathe Dazai is to admit it—Ane-san drilled that into the other boy where Mori only taught Dazai how to be cruel and unforgiving. The line between love and obsession has always been a terribly blurry one for him, and you have always wavered on either side of it—and Dazai, unfortunately, does not love healthily and obsesses so entirely that it would have most people running for the hills. 

For better or for worse, you’re not most people.

In his spiral of insecurity, he doesn’t catch the way your brows furrow as you put together some puzzle pieces. “Dazai,” you say suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts abruptly. There’s an accusatory look in your eyes that he really does not like. “Were you the one that booby-trapped my fucking apartment?”

Dazai snorts.

“You bastard,” you snap at him, and Dazai can’t help but bite the palm of his hand as a means of trying to stifle his laughter. “Mori thought it was a goddamn assassination attempt. He kept me under watch for weeks because of you. I couldn’t leave the towers without half of the Black Lizards with me.”

“Sorry,” he coos, not sorry at all. Dazai, because he clearly doesn’t know when to learn his lesson, then he promptly asks, “Am I better fuck than Chuuya?”

“Jesus Christ, Dazai, get off the topic of Chuuya and my sex life, it’s clearly only upsetting you,” you snap at him instead of answering the question. Dazai wants to argue and retain some dignity; he’s not upset, but then his entire world is shattered by your next words: “I am not answering this question.”

Dazai blanches. He can feel the blood drain from his face. He’d thought this was an easy question to make him feel a bit better. What do you mean you won’t answer? Does that mean Chuuya-

No. Dazai refuses to believe it.

 “No way,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s not a better fuck than me. You can’t possibly-”

“He’s not,” you finally say, and Dazai audibly lets out a sigh of relief. “But if you ever mention anything along the likes of that to him, you will never fuck me again, Dazai Osamu. Do you understand?”

Dazai is too relieved to even argue. “Yeah.”

“No more questions about my sex life,” you say firmly, and Dazai doesn’t respond, but he does agree internally because he doesn’t think his heart can handle any more scares like that. Your eyes sharpen again, and Dazai braces himself. “Were you the one to tell Mori I lied about being sick so I could skip out on the ball Mishima hosted when we were seventeen?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow right back at you and rather than answering, he shoots one of his own questions at you: “Were you the one to tell Mori I had his contact in my phone as ‘ignore’?”

You take his lack of an answer as an affirmative, correctly so. Dazai has no regrets about ratting you out to Mori because he was not about to attend Mishima’s event without you on his arm. He’d rather die. 

“You bastard, do you know the lengths I went to fake being sick? I wanted one night to relax without people breathing down my neck.”

“If I had to go, you had to go,” Dazai retorts petulantly. “I was not about to suffer with only Chuuya as company. You had no reason to tell Mori about the contact name besides to be petty. I fought with Chuuya for weeks because I thought he was the one to do it.”

You choke on a laugh. “Chuuya was so mad, he had no idea what you were talking about.”

“He tied me to a pole and swung me around for three hours,” Dazai complains, but there’s a smile on his lips as you burst into laughter, unable to stifle the giggles that spill from your lips.

“I know,” you wheeze, “I got it on video. We watch it sometimes when we’re bored and can’t find a movie.”

Dazai gapes, and you laugh harder, but for the first time in four years, Dazai finally feels… at home, he feels comfortable in his own skin again. He’s back in your penthouse, he’s drinking his favorite whiskey and smoking his favorite brand of cigarettes, you’re sitting at the kitchen table with him and laughing your head off at his expense, and for a moment, Dazai feels as if nothing has changed: he feels like himself again, eighteen and entirely enamored by the sight and sound of you, and you feel like you again, all of the doubt that had begun to rise to his chest as the two of you played the questions game long gone.

He falls in love with you all over again. Harder this time. Faster. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you again and again every day for the rest of your lives, each time more than the last, no matter how impossible it might seem.

He thinks maybe it’s not that he feels like he belongs with the Port Mafia more than the Agency. He thinks that it’s you. You’re the one he feels at home with. You’re the one he’s comfortable enough to be himself with. You’re the one he belongs with, always has, and always will.

After a few moments, you finally manage to get yourself under control, still giggling a bit as you look back up at him. Your smile is softer now, eyes gentle, more genuine than the smile you gave him before asking the first question. Dazai’s breath catches because when was the last time you looked at him like this—the last time anyone has looked at him like this? A warm feeling spreads through his chest; Dazai thinks he would stay in this moment forever if given the opportunity.

“Are you happy?” you ask quietly

Dazai blinks, startled, and an odd feeling spreads through his chest once your question registers. His lips part to answer, but no words leave them; he draws back as if he’s been slapped, a bit flustered and confused because that’s the furthest thing from what he expected you to ask. He wonders if you’d asked the last three questions to lull him into a false sense of security.

“I-” he starts to say but cuts himself off. “What kind of question is that?” 

He tries to deflect instead of properly answering, frowning, but you only raise your eyebrows, pointedly keeping your lips sealed to let him know that you expect an answer. He shakes his head and then sighs, bouncing the question in his head a few times before going for a cop-out: “When I’m with you? Always.”

You’re not pleased by his decision, frowning as you look away from him—he knows that’s not what you asked, not really, but you should have been clearer with your question if you wanted him to give you the answer you expected. But he doesn’t like the sudden disappointment on your face, it leaves his skin itchy and his chest longing for the soft look to return.

So he sits there, ruminating on the question. Is he happy? He should be, right? He’s saving people. He’s on the way to fulfilling Odasaku’s final request. He has a whole group of people whom he can rely on without having to fear being taken advantage of or betrayed at every corner. He’s happy.

But is he trying to convince himself of it? Why is he still trying to kill himself if he’s happy? Why is there a part of him that feels lonely no matter how surrounded he is by people? Why is it that when he’s at his lowest points, the only two people he wishes he could be with are you and Chuuya? Why does he ache for the days he’d spend dragging the two of you around Yokohama, causing trouble for Mori—the closest he’s ever felt to enjoying life?

“I don’t know,” he finally amends his answer, looking down at the bottle in front of him and the cinders of the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He lifts it to his lips again, taking one last drag of it as he tries to figure out what his last question should be.

There’s only one pressing question he has left, but he hesitates, unsure if he really wants to know your answer.

He forces it out anyway.

“Would you… would you have come with me back then?” His voice is quieter than he intended, cracks over ‘me’, and to your credit, you don’t react to the question, expression as eerily still as it was before, as if you’re considering your words.

A yes or no. It shouldn’t take this long for you to answer. Each second that passes feels like an eternity, and Dazai suddenly feels anxious, he doesn’t know why he asked this question because if the answer is no—if it’s no, then…

Finally, you let you a soft sigh, taking a sip of your wine as if to prolong his agony.

Your lashes flutter before you speak.

You lie for the first time that night.

“Yes.”

Dazai’s voice sounds far away as he says, “That’s a lie.”

“I guess you were right,” you say softly, but you sound so distant, like you’re on the opposite side of a long, empty tunnel and not sitting right in front of him. “We do still know each other decently well; you got them all right.”

Dazai doesn’t care. In fact, he would have gladly conceded a loss in this game, and he would’ve gladly admitted that maybe the two of you don’t know each other as well as you used to if it meant that he got the last question wrong because then he would’ve just given you a coy expression and asked if you’d let him get to know this new version of you too. You would’ve said yes, and he would’ve made quite the pleasurable night out of it for the two of you. Instead, he had to insist that nothing has changed, and now he has to come to terms with the fact that he was right and he had known you well enough back then to know not to ask you to leave with him because you would have chosen the Mafia over him. 

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice you approaching him until you’re leaning on the table next to him, index and middle finger coming beneath his chin to tilt his face up toward you. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes searching your face, but he only finds another blank slate that he can’t read. His breath hitches when your hand slides from his chin to cup his cheek, and he can’t help the way that he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“I would choose you over so many things, Osamu.” You speak his given name for the first time in years, but he can hardly find any comfort in it because he knows he’s not going to like what you’re about to say. Your fingers card through the tips of his hair, brushing the dark locks behind his ear as your thumb sweeps over his cheekbone. “But not over the Port Mafia. Just like how you didn’t choose to stay for me.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s-”

“It is,” you interrupt, voice deceptively gentle, and he thinks you’re entirely unfair because he can hardly focus with your touch distracting him. He’s missed it so much—he’s gone four years without it, without any type of touch that wasn’t him getting his shit kicked in by Kunikida or an enemy. “You didn’t choose to stay for me. I wouldn’t have chosen to leave for you.”

“Why?” Dazai asks tightly, and he hates that when his jaw tenses, you smooth your fingers over it, and he unclenches it immediately.

There’s a sadder look in your eye now as you give him a small smile. “You know why.”

Of course, he knows why. He feels the hatred deep in his gut as his mind draws back to Mori. Because that’s who the issue is. It’s not the Port Mafia. It’s not your friendship with Kouyou. It’s not even your friendship with Chuuya that’s the issue. It’s Mori and your undying loyalty to him. No matter how much you claim to despise him, bashing him every chance you get, sneering at him whenever he tries to treat you like his daughter, Dazai knows that when it comes down to it, you’ll always choose him. You’d throw yourself on a sword if he asked it of you, and not for the first time, Dazai wants to spit in the man’s face for making you feel as if you’re eternally indebted to him for rescuing you from that warzone so many years ago; for making you feel as if you’re nothing without the Mafia, nothing without him.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Dazai says tightly. “You have to know that by now—you don’t owe him anything.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation, Dazai,” you sigh, sounding tired. Your hand drops from his face, and Dazai longs for your touch again instantly. His fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his lap; he only barely stops himself from reaching out for you. You try to smile as you change the subject, but it hardly meets your eyes, “It’s a tie then. No prize for either of us, hm?”

Dazai is not so inclined to switch the subject. He wants to press on this now that he has the chance; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to rip you out from beneath Mori’s thumb, but he needs to at least try… but you’re leaving again in the morning, and Dazai also does not want to ruin this night with you. He doesn’t know when he’ll get another.

So, instead, he matches your half-assed smile as he looks up at you and says, “I didn’t say you got them all right. You only said that I got them all right.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did I get any wrong?” you ask, amused.

No.

“Yes.”

“Liar,” you say, but there’s a fond lilt to your tone as you let out another puff of air, the smile on your face finally reaching your eyes as you look down at him. The soft lighting of your kitchen casts a pretty glow over your face, your smile is so entrancing that Dazai thinks he could stare at it forever.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, the words slipping from his lips before he can stop them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He’s sure he must look like a fool right now, entirely enamored by the sight of you, unable to even fathom drawing his gaze away. He wonders if you’ll protest again, call him a liar, and shift away from him.

You don’t.

The smile on your lips falls, and a wrecked expression crosses your face as your eyes search his. Your lips part to speak, and he waits with bated breath for whatever you’re about to say—he thinks that if you deny him again right now, it might completely shatter all of the walls he’d so carefully built to protect himself.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper as if you’re scared to speak the words out loud—and how can he blame you when the last time you dared to speak them, he hung up on you, never hearing from him again until tonight.

God, the guilt he feels whenever he thinks of you returns with a vengeance, so intense that Dazai starts to feel sick to his stomach. He can’t handle it, so he does the only thing he knows how to do to distract himself from it.

His movements are clumsy as he pushes himself up to his feet, nearly tripping over the leg of his chair, and his fingers feel clunky as he lifts them up to cup your cheeks. For a second, he fears that you might move away from him, but you don’t, so he leans in to press his lips against yours.

There’s no tenderness to his kiss. Dazai kisses you like he wants to consume you, lips sliding messily against yours, blunt nails indent crescents into your cheeks as he holds you close. Usually, he would be embarrassed by his blatant desperation and lack of finesse—he’s never been a sloppy kisser, when the two of you were younger, you would always let out pleased hums into his mouth, lashes fluttering as he worked his lips carefully against yours, tongue sliding against your own as he traces his name on it. 

All of his finely honed skill is thrown out the window now as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for years. He has been starved for years—the quick fuck in your office did nothing to quell the longing he’s felt for you the past four years. He could kiss you for hours. Days, even, and it still won’t be enough. Nothing short of an eternity with you would be enough to make up for the four years he’s been deprived of you.

He lets out a low groan into your mouth as you nip at his bottom lip, hands sliding from your face down to your hips. He’d take you here. Right now. But he remembers the last time he tried to fuck you on your kitchen table, it ended with him choking on the barrel of your gun as you yelled at him for being gross (“I eat on this table, you heathen!”) and he’s not particularly in the mood to set off your temper now that he finally has you in his arms again, so it’s with much restraint that he grabs you by the hips to walk you back into your bedroom.

He can hardly concentrate as your fingers twist the hair at the nape of his neck, soft moans slipping from his lips, muffled against your mouth. It’s only sheer instinct and muscle memory that has him making his way from the kitchen and down the hall. He can’t bring himself to separate his lips from yours for even a second. And he’s a mess because he’s not coherent enough to force himself to breathe properly through his nose, so his lungs are burning and his head feels a bit light, but he doesn’t care so long as it means he can keep kissing you.

Turn left, turn right, second door from the end of the hall. 

His fingers fumble for the knob of your bedroom door, pushing it open a bit too hard, considering the way he hears it slam against the wall and how you tug his hair hard in retaliation. He doesn’t care, moans a bit louder even when your nails scrape his stinging scalp, and you let out a derisive noise against his lips before biting down hard enough to draw blood.

The taste of iron makes a slow smile curl at his lips, walking you back toward the bed, and it’s only when your knees hit the edge that you finally pull away from him. “If you broke my door, you’re fixing it, Osamu.”

Dazai’s smile is lecherous. “I’m gonna break something alright,” he croons, relishing in the way you immediately roll your eyes at him. It’s all so familiar—he can almost pretend that he never left, that nothing has changed since the two of you were eighteen, dumb, reckless, and in love.

Before he can press you back against the bed, he feels your fingers drop from around his neck to his waistband, curling around his belt loops. In an instant, you’ve twisted the both of you around, and suddenly, it’s the back of Dazai’s knees pressed against the edge of the bed as you push him down onto the mattress. He hits the sheets with an ‘oof’ and a hazy smile, surrounded by the scent of you, drowning in the sight of you. He thinks he might be in heaven. 

You shift on top of him, straddling his waist; Dazai’s hands instantly come to rest on your thighs, sliding up the sides to grab your ass and pull you more firmly onto him. He groans when he feels you grind down against his cock, and god, he’s already hard just from kissing you. He hears you snort above him, but Dazai doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

His lips part in a silent moan as you lean down to ghost kisses along his jaw, hands sliding up his chest. He feels you wrap your fingers around his bolo tie and tug it, you let out a sharp noise of distaste against his skin before murmuring: “I hate this ugly thing.”

He lets out a huff of laughter that quickly breaks off into a moan when your lips trail to the spot behind his ear that always makes him writhe. His fingers bite into your hips, pushing you down on him as he rocks his hips up into you—shit, he might be able to cum just from this. His cock is straining painfully against his beige pants, twitching as he grinds up against your clothed cunt. He thinks maybe if he fucks his hips upward a few more times, he might be able to push himself over the edge, but as desperate as he is to chase his release, he refuses to cum anywhere but inside of you.

Plus, he thinks he’ll be shamed to hell and back if he finishes in his pants with you hardly touching him. 

“Then strip me out of it,” he gasps, lashes fluttering as your teeth graze his pulse point right above the edge of his bandages. Fuck, he’d give anything for you to bite down—riddle him with marks he can’t cover so he can flaunt them off to everyone who looks at him. Dazai knows that there are countless men and women out there who’d die to be able to be called yours, he wants them to know he’s the only one who can take that honor. “What’re you waiting for?” 

You hum and then sit back on his hips—he bites his bottom lip raw as you unintentionally put even more pressure on his cock. He’s half dazed out, not realizing that your grip tightened on his bolo tie until you straight up yank it off of him, snapping the string around his neck.

“No!” he complains, watching with wide eyes and parted lips as you fling the now-broken bolo tie off to the side of your room. “Noooo, why’d you do that? I’m going to have to order a new one.”

“Boo-hoo,” you say dryly, hardly paying attention to him as your fingers curl around the hem of his vest, pulling it up over his head, snorting when he lets out a puff of irritation as his nose gets caught around the collar. 

“This is so unsexy,” he protests, rubbing his nose. “Shouldn’t you be more gentle?” 

“Stop wearing so many layers of clothes,” you retort, but Dazai is placated when you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips, lashes fluttering as his eyes slide shut. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss down his jaw, nimble fingers unbuttoning his final layer of clothing. He wishes he wore an undershirt just to watch you huff in annoyance. His breath catches as you nip at his skin and then murmur, “This better?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice wavering as you get down to the last button of his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and easing him out of it. His body shudders as your hands slide over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. Fuck, it’s been so long since anyone’s touched him beneath his clothes, even with the bandages still acting as a layer between the two of you, his nerves are on end, sensitive to everywhere your fingers touch.

He wonders if you’ll pull off the bandages—it’s a line that the two of you only crossed once back then, and although the idea of it has him brimming with anxiety, he longs for the feeling of your skin flush to his.

He almost feels a bit embarrassed when you sit back again to admire him as if there’s not a scar-ridden body hidden beneath the bandages. You look at him like he’s beautiful, like he’s not a monster disguised as a man, like he’s human. Dazai has always felt distinctly seen beneath your stare like you can see through all of the masks he wears and see him for him, and that has not changed over the past four years.

He’s missed the comfort of it. He has. It used to unnerve him back then, thinking someone could see him so clearly when he tried so hard and so carefully to hide himself beneath layers of impenetrable masks, but after going four years alone, with no one for him to turn to, no one he could look at and have them just know what he’s thinking… 

Yosano once mentioned offhandedly that to be loved is to be seen, and Dazai thinks the only time he’s ever been seen—truly seen, down to his core, deep in his soul—is when he’s with you.

It was a very lonely four years without you.

“I thought about you every day,” Dazai tells you softly, the grip on your hips easing up as he looks up at you. “Made a list of places I wanted to bring you and then burned it because I never thought I’d get the chance to be with you again. Stared at old pictures of you all the time, couldn’t sleep without thinking about memories with you. Drank your favorite wine just so I could pretend I was tasting it off your lips.”

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek, and Dazai leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. He kisses your palm, humming softly when your thumb runs along his bottom lip.

“There wasn’t a single day I went without you crossing my mind,” you admit quietly and Dazai’s breath hitches as he stares up at you, dark eyes wide and lips parted. He thinks he should say something, anything really, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t seem to mind, luckily, because you only lean down to brush your lips against his again.

This kiss is softer than the last, lips trembling against yours as your tongue dances along his inner lip. He thinks his cheeks might feel wet but he doesn’t dare acknowledge it; you don’t either, only using your thumbs to brush away the tears as they spill over his cheeks.

“Are you really leaving again in the morning?” he finally asks, and he hates that his voice cracks over the words.

You hum in agreement, still hovering over him, still running your thumbs along his cheekbone. His lashes droop shut, but he forces them back open as you speak. “I am. Bright and early. Flight leaves at six.”

His gaze flickers to the left, over to where your alarm clock is set up on your nightstand. 

12:35

He looks back at you, eyes swimming with desperation.

You give him a soft, wry smile. “We should make the most of the night then, hm?”

He doesn’t waste any time on that.

His grip on your hip tightens, and in one swift motion, he flips the two of you around, elbows resting on the mattress on either side of your head as he hovers above you. Your eyes glitter as you give him a coy smile, and again, Dazai falls in love.

Then, he ruins the moment.

“Tell me how you fucked Chuuya.”

Your smile drops. “Osamu, what the fuck?”

“Tell me,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek and peppering soft kisses on your cheek and down your neck. His knees drop to the bed on either side of your hips, holding up his weight as he reaches down to unbutton your slacks, sliding them off your body. A smile flickers onto his lips as his fingers graze your panties—drenched, finally, evidence that he’s not the only one so affected by this. “Tell me. Were you on top? Did he take you from behind? Was he rough? No, it’s Chuuya-”

“If you care so much about how Chuuya fucks, Osamu, how about you go fuck him yourself?” you interrupt him.

Dazai gags.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he says and then returns to his mission, fumbling with his own pants now as he tries to yank them and his briefs off, unable to hold back the relieved sigh when he finally frees his cock, unceremoniously tossing them to the floor. “Tell me.” 

“Why do you care so much, hm?” you ask, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I told you that you were better.”

You’re only trying to deflect from the question and he almost lets you succeed, partially placated, but he stays strong, leveling an unrelenting stare onto you as he waits for your answer. You sigh heavily, and he knows he’s won.

“Not rough,” you say as if Dazai hasn’t already come to that conclusion. Chuuya’s had a crush on you since the three of you were sixteen. Dazai assumed he had grown out of it, but evidently, he was wrong, considering he took the opportunity to sleep with Dazai’s girlfriend—because you were his girlfriend—the moment Dazai was out of the picture. What a little snake. Dazai needs to vandalize his apartment again. Maybe set up a few more bombs. He’s only drawn back from his mental spiral when you start talking again: “He took the lead. Wanted to see my face the whole time, make sure I was okay.”

“How gentlemanly of him,” Dazai says—he’s not bitter. He’s not.

“It was,” you agree, too genuinely.

Dazai squints at you hard. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You asked.”

“You don’t need to sound so wistful.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Osamu, I’m not wistful.”

“How-”

“Are we going to talk about Nakahara Chuuya all night, or are you going to fuck me?” you interrupt immediately, looking increasingly incensed. Dazai only raises his chin at you pointedly—you’re the one that slept with Chuuya. “Time is dwindling, Osamu.”

Okay. 

Dazai’s gaze flickers back to the clock and then back down to you, withering a bit under your irritated stare. He sighs and leans back over you to kiss the corner of your lips, fingers curling around the hem of your panties to slide them off your legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his kisses linger against your skin now as he drags his lips down to your jaw. “The thought of him being with you…”

It makes Dazai want to do terrible things. The part of him that he locked up deep within rattles at the bars of its cage, furious and bloodthirsty. The trigger finger he’s been so careful to tame twitches with a desire he hasn’t felt in four years. The thought of anyone being with you makes Dazai sick to his stomach—Dazai is the only one who should get to see you like this, be with you like this—but the thought of Chuuya being with you is so much worse.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Osamu,” you tell him quietly, fingers intertwining with his hair as he nips at your neck. “No matter how much I slept around, nothing was ever able to fill the hole losing you left. Not even Chuuya.”

Dazai exhales, shaky—the guilt returns, and so does the doubt because what right does he have sitting here being petty about what you did while he was gone when he was the one who left you behind without so much as a word? His eyes flutter shut, he spares a few more chaste kisses across your throat before lifting his face back to yours, kissing you gently.

“Let me make up for lost time then,” he says softly.

He doesn’t hesitate now, one hand dropping down to your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist as he presses his hips into you. His breath shudders when his cock slips against your folds, a low moan spilling from his lips. He has to reach down to angle himself properly, tip pressing against your tight hole.

The fingers of his free hands are shaky as he lifts them to cup your cheek. “Look at me,” he says, heat spreading through his abdomen when he realizes you already can hardly hold your eyes open, quick breaths escaping your lips as you try to keep yourself from cumming already. “Look at me, I want to see you.”

Your eyes flutter open, lidded and heavy as you look up at him, and Dazai thinks that maybe he could cum just from the expression on your face alone, inhaling sharply as his thumb drags across your bottom lip. He thinks maybe he should try to get ahold of himself, fearing that if he pushes inside of you now, he might cum on the spot, but his cock is aching so badly that Dazai thinks he might die if he doesn’t feel your heat around him immediately.

It takes all of his strength to keep his eyes from sliding shut as he pushes inside of you, desperate to see the way your face twists and your breath catches. Your lips tremble, chest rising and falling rapidly, he can feel your thighs tightening around his waist, and Dazai groans when your heels dig into his lower back, forcing his hips flush to you, burying his cock deep in your cunt. He chokes, grip on your thigh bruising; his abdomen tightens, and his head feels light.

No way, he thinks, gritting his teeth as he tries to hold back the waves of pleasure threatening to tear through him. He hears you let out a huff of laughter beneath him, and Dazai would shut you up with a sharp thrust of your hips, but he’s still desperately trying to regain control over himself, so he thinks that’s maybe not the best idea.

His forehead drops to rest on the pillow next to your head, lips brushing your ear as he lets out a low moan. He can’t even savor the way you let out a full-body shudder, fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. Fuck, you’re so tight—Dazai can feel your walls tightening around him, spasming, his breath is shaky, and he tries to distract himself by pressing his lips to your skin, mouthing messily at your skin, sucking and nipping and counting to ten as he tries to settle down.

But it’s hard with the soft sighs you’re letting out, the way your fingers catch on his tousled hair, tugging enough to make his scalp sting. His head is so fogged that he can hardly think straight—god, he’s missed this, he hasn’t had the comfort of letting himself go like this in… since he left, really. His mind is always turning, plotting out ten, twenty, thirty steps in advance in fear of making a mistake, slipping up and letting the rest of the Agency see him for what he is, slipping up and their lives being the price just like with Odasaku. It’s only with you that’s ever comfortable enough to finally let the cogs in his brain slow and shatter, lose himself in carnal pleasures, lose himself in you; it’s been four years since he’s last had a reprieve from his own brain.

But he only lets himself slip halfway—tonight isn’t going to be about him, it’s about you. He has four years to make up for and he intends on getting a good start on it tonight.

He pants quietly as he lifts his head enough to bite your earlobe, tugging it gently before pressing his lips to your temple. “I’ve missed this,” he admits, voice raspy and clogged thick with emotion. “I’ve-”

He can hardly get the words out, and his breath catches when your hands slide from behind his head to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. He thinks he must look wrecked—he can already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he knows his eyes are probably glazed over. You still look stunning, a soft expression on your face as you look up at him as if he’s not buried to the hilt inside of you. 

Unfair, he thinks mournfully. 

“What're you still holding onto, hm?” you ask, and Dazai only barely registers your words, sinking into your touch as you brush matted hair out of his eyes. He can finally bring himself to roll his hips—experimental, slow, trying to make sure he can actually move before trying to fuck you. Then you sigh softly, and he’s too out of it to try to make out the expression on your face as you say: “You work yourself so hard… always have. I’ve got you, you can let go, Dazai. C’mon.”

“No,” he hums, but his voice is strained, evidence of his struggle. “Tonight’s about my favorite girl.”

“Favorite?” you tease, lifting your shoulders off the bed to ghost a kiss against his lips that nearly has his hips stuttering—the conversation so reminiscent of one that the two of you had at seventeen it almost makes him smile.

“Only,” he amends quietly, kissing your nose, then the corner of your lips, and then nipping your jawline.

Just when he thinks he’s good to actually start picking up the pace, intent on fucking the thoughts out of you until you forget about your stupid flight in the morning, he catches a suspicious expression on your face, one that has his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks dubiously; your eyes are glittering in a way that he knows from experience is dangerous. 

You don’t say anything, just look pointedly at your thighs, then up to his shoulders. Dazai tilts his head to the side, recognizing what you want, and after a moment’s hesitation, he slides your legs up above his shoulders, folding them to your chest, eyes nearly rolling back at the new angle. Fuck, his hips do stutter this time, breath hitching. He has to readjust again, mentally focus on not cumming on the spot, and then-

And then you say: “He had my legs like this.”

A trick. 

Dazai knows it. 

You’re trying to make him let go of the thin thread of self-control he still has. To give in. To let all of the gears in his brain finally fall apart for the first time in four years.

He knows it.

He falls for it anyway.

Dazai’s jaw tightens, gaze snapping down to you only to catch a goading look in your eyes, a sly smile on your lips that Dazai has every intention of fucking right off your face. He inhales sharply, one hand sliding up your body to grab your chin, blunt nails digging a bit too deeply into your cheeks.

“Yeah?” he says, voice rough. 

Your lashes flutter and lips part as Dazai pointedly jerks his hips up. Your breath catches over a moan, and Dazai knows that this new angle is affecting you just as much as it is him.

“Mhm,” you agree, and just like that, the thin thread snaps.

He snaps his hips into you so hard that your bedframe bangs loudly against the wall behind it, quickly setting a steady pace, nice and deep, quick enough that you can’t even get a breath of air to your lungs before Dazai is fucking it right out of you. Already, he’s so fucked out that his mind is in shambles, one hand settling on your hip to hold you in place as he thrusts his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot with each stroke while his other hand, still cupping your face, slides down to your neck.

He doesn’t squeeze—wouldn’t dare to cut off the pretty noises spilling from your lips, moans of his names, choked gasps and cries between each rock of his hips—but the fact that you trust him, him, enough to have his fingers wrapped around your throat is always a quick way make him topple over the edge.

His eyes dart down to your chest, realizing, very unfortunately, that you haven’t taken off your button-up yet. He nearly bites down on his tongue in frustration as his hand comes down to your chest, careful to keep the pace of his hips as he hooks his fingers around the first button just to yank down, popping off half of the buttons of your expensive dress shirt and haphazardly pulling it off of you to toss it to the side before fumbling with the clip of your bra.

“Osamu,” you hiss, and Dazai revels in the way your voice wavers with each thrust, biting back moans. “That’s the second-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Dazai tosses your bra over with your discarded shirt and dips his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before rolling it between his teeth, and you’re gone—Dazai lets out a muffled groan around you as your back arches up into him, crying out his name, walls tightening around him as you cum on his cock.

“Oh-f-hah-fuck,” Dazai gasps as he rests his head on your collarbone, grip on your waist tightening. 

He has to physically force himself to lift his head, bracing his forearm on the mattress next to your head, desperate to see the way your eyes roll back, he can already feel himself teetering over the edge—the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock driving in and out of your cunt, he can feel your cum dripping down his cock, smeared on his pelvis.

His hand slides behind your head, lifting it from where you have it pressed against the mattress. Beautiful—the only thought that can run through his hazy brain is of you and how perfect you are, lips swollen and bitten raw, parted as pitched moans escape them, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as he fucks you through your orgasm and right into a second. He’s the only one that should ever get to see you like this, with your clever brain fucked right and dumb, body writhing against the bed as you cling to him.

He leans down again, trailing sloppy kisses against your neck, gasping as he starts to feel his high approaching.

“No one makes you feel like this,” he says, or maybe he begs, he’s not sure if he’s making a statement or pleading for you to tell him it’s the truth. “Tell me. T-shit-tell me.”

“No one,” you sob over another moan, and Dazai can feel your pussy fluttering around him—he wonders if he’s already fucked you into a third. Usually, it takes longer. “No one, Osamu, you’re the only one.”

And that’s the only thing he needed to hear to give him that final push. His steady pace shifts into a more erratic one, sloppy and desperate, as he chases a high that’s just out of reach. His moans are muffled against your skin, teeth scraping your collarbone, mind a jumbled mess of thoughts of you. He feels your fingers trembling as you lift them to his cheeks, pulling his face up to press your lips against his, and that’s all it takes: he lets out a wanton moan against your mouth, pressing your legs further into your chest as his hips still against your ass, finishing deep inside of you.

Spots dance in his vision, head buzzing and ears ringing; he swears his orgasm lasts an eternity, body shaking and shuddering above you, letting out breathy moans into your mouth. He can feel his cum dribbling out of you, pooling onto the sheets beneath the two of you, so much of it that you can’t even keep it all in you. 

He doesn’t let his lips leave yours once—the kisses are messy and sloppy, devoid of all of the finesse that the two of you usually have, teeth nearly clashing, tongues sliding against each other’s. 

It’s only when his vision finally starts to clear and his head feels less on the verge of passing out does Dazai finally trails kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck before he finally collapses on top of you, mind entirely gone, like he’s floating on clouds. He pants as he tries to catch his breath, eyes lidded as he absently trails kisses along your chest and collarbone. He thinks the world could be ending around the two of you, and Dazai wouldn’t even have the capacity to notice. For the first time in four years, he really, truly allows his brain to rest.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, eyes drooping shut as he lets himself be enveloped by your arms, drowning in the comfort of your scent.

He doesn’t want to know. He’s scared to look at the clock and check.

“Tonight was supposed to be about you,” Dazai finally complains, burying his face in your chest as he pouts.

You only let out a soft laugh above him. “We have the rest of our lives for that… You deserved a break, Osamu.”

The rest of our lives.

Dazai’s throat tightens, vision blurring a bit at the thought—he can only barely bring himself to respond, and the words that slip out are not what he means to say: “I never thought I’d get to be with you like this again,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I never thought-”

“I know,” you interrupt, voice quiet, a bit shaky. “... I know.”

Of course, you know.

He can’t bring himself to say anything else, so he doesn’t, sinking into your arms and allowing himself the comfort he’s deprived himself of for so long. He almost starts to drift off—and god, he can’t remember the last time he’s dozed off willingly, only able to sleep after drinking copious amounts of alcohol or taking an even more copious number of sleeping pills. It’s not until you speak again does he stir back awake from the brink of sleep.

“What did he ask of you? Oda, I mean,” you finally ask, fingers brushing through his dark hair, lulling him further to sleep.

Dazai thinks that you’re cruel, asking him while his mind is still fogged from the exhaustion following his high, and he’s still half asleep in your arms, trying to regain his bearings. The words slip out before he can think twice, forgetting his fear of you laughing at the idea of him trying to be a better man.

“He asked me to be on the side that saves people… if both are the same to me, he wanted me to be a good man.”

The words dawn on him too late; he can hardly bring himself to look up at you, scared that he’s going to find an amused expression on your face or a derisive sneer. He wouldn’t blame you, he’s thought the same about himself ever since he left the Port Mafia, doubt and self-loathing riddling him with every step he takes in the light. He waits for the scoff, he waits for the laugh, he waits for-

“... I think he would be proud of who you’ve become, Osamu. I think you’ve fulfilled his request.”

Dazai does look up at you now, feeling particularly vulnerable, still scared that he might find a mocking expression on your face but he doesn’t. Only an uncharacteristically soft expression is painted on your face as you look up at the ceiling, a genuine one—a small smile and a look in your eyes that makes his heart feel warm. You don’t notice him looking until he lets slip out:

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers. 

(I love you, he means)

“I’ve missed you too,” you say back quietly.

(I love you too)

[alisonsfics]

lovers to exes, to lovers? part one

pairing: ex!tyler owens x ex!reader

summary: who ever heard of exes being civil after a breakup? not you and tyler. which makes it interesting when you both end up in the same town.

word count: 2.7k

part 2

You were abruptly woken up by Javi shaking your leg. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the light. “We’re here,” he told you, before getting out of the truck.

Along with Javi and the rest of his team, you were chasing a string of storms in Oklahoma. You were Javi’s second-in-command. You had graduated top of your class, so you were the brains behind the operation.

The team had to drive to Oklahoma straight from a meeting in California, so you had crawled into the back seat for a quick nap.

You sat up and stretched your arms. Out the windows, you saw a rundown motel and storm chasers camped out.

You climbed out of the truck to stretch your legs after the long drive. You ran your fingers through your now-messy hair. You smoothed it out and pulled it up into a high ponytail. You met Javi at the back of the truck, where he was checking on the equipment. “Thank you for driving.” You mumbled, sleepily. He chuckled at how you were struggling to keep your eyes open. “I always drive, but you’re welcome.” He told you.

All of a sudden, you heard a blaring radio down the road. Everyone turned to look and saw a dirty truck and a camper van pull into the parking lot.

“Somebody’s overcompensating,” you muttered grumpily, earning a laugh from Javi. You turned your attention back to your laptop.

There was a commotion as the truck stopped in the parking lot. As cheers erupted, you glanced over your shoulder to see what the fuss was about.

The last thing you expected to see was Tyler Owens, your ex-boyfriend, tipping his cowboy hat to an adoring crowd.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” You complained, crossing your arms. Javi looked up to see what you were looking at. “Oh, isn’t that the Tyler Owens guy? He’s always seemed a little cocky to me.” Javi said.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, hoping you’d wake up and it would be a dream. “Yeah, it is. But, it’s also Tyler Owens, my ex-boyfriend.” You added. Javi’s attention completely abandoned the data he was reading. His mouth hung slightly open.

“I’m sorry, wait. You and Tyler Owens dated? And you’ve never told me this?” He asked, in shock. You slowly nodded your head. “We all mistakes, and oh look, mine is walking this way.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Tyler couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He hadn’t seen you in person since you both broke up. He didn’t know if he should feel as excited to see you as he did. He wasn’t hoping for a heartfelt reunion by any means, but you always knew how to push his buttons.

You and Tyler butted heads really well. That spark and chemistry is why you started dating in the first place. There was a certain passion to the way you both would bicker with each other.

But, it also ended up being why you both broke up. Because you both were too young, too immature, and also too competitive for your own good.

“I didn’t know you were chasing in Oklahoma?” You asked, crossing your arms as Tyler walked up to you. He rested his hands on his hips and took all of you in. “You not happy to see me?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Oh, absolutely thrilled. I can’t wait for you to copy my work and then take all the credit, just like you did in college.” You said, giving him a sarcastic smile. Tyler took another step towards you.

Javi was starting to get very uncomfortable with the tension between the two of you. The electricity flowing between you both was almost palpable.

“Only time I ever copied you was when I ran out of time for that project because I’d spent all night with you doing…well, you remember.” He said, winking at you. Your stomach tightened as the memories of that night went flooding through you.

Some kid in your class had tried to ask you out. You obviously told him you were dating someone, but the whole thing got under Tyler’s skin. He showed up at your apartment determined to show you that you were his.

Tyler may have been a pain in your ass most of the time, but he knew exactly what he was doing when it came to sex. He knew your body better than anyone else, still to this day.

“Tyler, this is Javi. We work together. Javi, this is my annoying ex-boyfriend, Tyler.” You said, trying to change the subject.

Tyler smirked proudly to himself. He knew his words had gotten under his skin. He could see the way you squeezed your legs together, trying to ignore the familiar aching. Tyler was always good at reading you. He knew what every little expression meant.

“Yeah, man…umm nice to meet you. I gotta get going though.” Javi said, quickly excusing himself from the awkward situation.

Tyler watched him as he left and then turned his attention back to you. “You really not happy to see me, sweetheart?” He asked, taking another step towards you.

“Don’t call me that, Tyler.” You snapped, sitting down on the tailgate and grabbing your laptop again. You hoped he’d realize you were busy and leave you alone.

He didn’t.

Tyler hopped up on the tailgate and sat beside you. “You used to like when I called you that. You said it was a part of my cowboy charm. I used to just have to call you sweetheart, then you were in my arms like that.” He said, snapping his fingers.

You rolled your eyes at his clear attempt to get you focused on those long nights again. He knew it was one of the best ways to annoy you. He softly planted his hand on the small of your back, leaning in towards you.

“It’s called maturing, Tyler. Maybe you should try it sometime.” You told him, pushing his hand off of you.

He raised his eyebrows at you. “Oh really? You’re the mature one?” He snapped. He was actually surprised to hear the words come out of your mouth. You were just as immature as he was.

“I’m certainly more mature than the guy who made a YouTube channel of him chasing tornadoes as a way to get girls.” You said, snarkily.

He scoffed at the implication. “You know damn well that I care about my work just as much as you do. The girls are just an added benefit, and if you wanted to be one of them so badly, you could just ask. And that’s not what I was referring to, Ms. Maturity.” He said, looking at you with a knowing glance.

You focused your attention back on your laptop because you knew what he was going to say. It wasn’t your proudest moment.

“Yeah, look who’s all quiet now. You don’t want to talk about how the day after we broke up, I went to your apartment to apologize, and you’d slept with my best friend? That seem mature to you?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. That was probably the only grudge that Tyler still had to this day.

You pushed your laptop to the side and turned to face Tyler. You could see how upset he was. His jaw was clenched, and his face was starting to turn red. “For God's sake, Tyler. We’ve hashed this out a million times, and I’ve told you how sorry I was. It was a drunken stupid decision. So, no matter how pissed you are, I can’t undo it.” You snapped at him.

He leaned in closer to you. His face was only inches away from yours. You worried that if he got any closer, he’d hear how quick your heart was beating.

It took every ounce of control he had to not lean in and get another taste of your strawberry chapstick. He’d missed letting himself get distracted with the sweet taste of your lips.

“You know what I think it was? I think you wanted to see if anyone could fuck you as good as I did. I think you’re still hung up on it now.” He said, in a low tone.

You tried to pretend like his words didn’t make you feel all warm inside. “You think I’m still hung up on the sex? It’s been years, Tyler. Get over yourself, you aren’t the god of sex.” You lied, rolling your eyes at him.

“Oh, really?” He asked, cocking his head to the side. He grabbed your chin. It felt like the air was ripped out of you. He cockily smirked down at you.

“What’s this then?” He asked, pulling your arm up and showing you the goosebumps that were covering your body.

You pulled your arm out of his grip. “You know what, Tyler? Just do us both a favor, and leave me the fuck alone.” You snapped, walking away from Tyler. You headed over towards the diner to grab some food for dinner.

The inside of the diner was chaos. Way too many storm chasers trying to get food at the same time. You glanced down at your watch as you waited in line. It was getting late, and you were hungry.

“Hey, how’re you?” you heard a man beside you say. You turned and saw a guy smiling at you. “Respectfully, I’m really not in the mood if you’re trying to hit on me.” You said, quickly.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I’m Boone.” He said, shaking your hand. You remembered why the name sounded familiar. “Oh shit, you’re Tyler’s friend, aren’t you?” You asked, to which he nodded.

“He pointed you out before and said you guys used to date. Anyway, we have some food over near our camp, if you want some.” He offered. You quickly nodded and thanked him for the offer.

He introduced you to everyone on the team and handed you a takeout container full of food. You didn’t understand how an asshole like Tyler had a team that was full of nice people.

You started eating and listened as they all told stories about some of their craziest tornadoes.

“Oh, look who you invited to eat with us,” Tyler said, shooting you a sarcastic smile. Boone gestured over towards the diner. “Yeah, the line over at the diner was insane. I figured you wouldn’t mind.” Boone explained.

“Come on, Tyler, grow up. I’m a grown woman. I can eat where I want.” You snapped at him, rolling your eyes.

Tyler just chuckled and looked at the ground. “Careful, Boone. She has a history of sleeping with my best friends to make me jealous. You better watch out.” Tyler said, glaring at you.

The whole group got quiet. They hadn’t realized things between you and Tyler were so icy.

“I should go.” You said, starting to grab your things. You liked getting on Tyler’s nerves, but not when he was acting like an ass. Tyler quickly shook his head.

“No no, you should stay. So, what were we talking about? It sounded like craziest tornado experiences? You should remember this one.” Tyler said, looking over at you.

You froze in your seat. You knew exactly what story he was going to tell. But, you couldn’t believe he was actually going that far.

“This lovely lady and I chased a tornado one time, back when we were still together. It was right after I made the prototype to drill the truck into the ground. And she got excited at what that meant. So, we were chasing a giant storm. Then, she had a naughty little idea and decided she wanted to fuck me as we were surrounded by the tornado. And she did, and let me tell you.” He said, whistling to himself.

You could feel your blood boiling. Your face felt warm as tears starting forming in your eyes. “I fucking hate you.” You snapped at him before turning to walk away.

He yelled back at you, “Oh, come on, honey. What’s wrong? I can’t talk about the ways you did me wrong? And I can’t talk about some our best memories? What else am I supposed talk about?” He asked. He had a cocky sense of pride, knowing how much he’d gotten to you.

When it came to you, Tyler would often get blinded by his feelings and take things a step too far.

“You are an asshole, Tyler.” You said, your voice cracking with emotion. You slapped him across his face before storming off. His whole team was dead silent, having no idea what to say.

Tyler sighed to himself and stormed off in the other direction.

You ran right into your motel room and slammed the door. You’d never felt so humiliated by Tyler before. You curled up under the sheets and just prayed you wouldn’t see Tyler tomorrow.

After about an hour, there was a knock at your door. You assumed it was Javi since you hadn’t heard from him in a while.

You wiped the tears off your face and walked over to the door.

When you opened it and saw Tyler, you immediately tried to slam it shut. Tyler quickly stuck his foot in the door to stop you.

“Hang on, sweetheart. Wait a minute.” He begged you. You furiously shook your head, crossing your arms. “I don’t want to talk to you.” You protested.

Tyler held out a box. “You left your food, and I figured you were hungry.” He said, softly. You quietly thanked him and took the box. “Is that it?” You asked as he refused to leave.

“I really want to apologize, sweetheart. I was really fucking out of line. I was mad at you, but I shouldn’t have tried to get revenge. I was such a dick, and I’m really sorry.” He said, genuinely.

You went on your tiptoes and wrapped your arms around him. He slipped his arms around your waist, holding you tightly. “I’m sorry too. About everything.” You whispered into his shirt.

You both pulled away but lingered slightly. “I know there’s a lot of unresolved feelings over how we ended things, but can we at least have a temporary truce? I don’t want you to get put in harm’s way tomorrow because we’re both distracted. You don’t have to love me, but can we at least be civil?” He asked. You quickly nodded.

“Truce,” you agreed, grabbing his hand and shaking it. You earned a soft chuckle from him. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” He said, kissing your forehead.

He lingered. It felt like he was expecting you to invited him inside. Should you? That was too much, right?

While you were overthinking, he walked back to his room. You closed the door and retreated to your bed to finish your dinner.

After you finished your food, your mind wandered back to Tyler. Something about the way he apologized made you feel like that spark was back. There was a certain twinkle in his eyes.

Ignoring all your better instincts, you reapplied your lipstick, fixed your hair, and headed towards Tyler’s room.

You wiped the sweat off your hands and onto your jeans. You were shocked that you were walking towards Tyler’s room. For years, you’d sworn that you’d stay away from him if you ever saw him again. That just goes to show the effect he had on you.

You took a deep breath and picked your hand up to knock on the door. Before you could, you heard someone talking. You quickly let your hand fall to your side.

You couldn’t knock on Tyler’s door hoping for a one night stand if Boone, or one of the guys, was inside with him. You slowly started to back up when the voice got a lot clearer.

It was a woman. And she wasn’t talking.

“Oh, fuck, baby yes. Harder please, you feel so good.” You could feel your eyes go wide. You quickly took a few steps back.

The tears started forming in your eyes, and you didn’t even know why. You shouldn’t have been surprised.

You started to run back to your room. You would have been mortified if anyone caught you. Now, Tyler’s truce made sense to you. He wasn’t trying to make amends, he wanted to ease his conscience before he hooked up with some girl. You felt so naive.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat @alipap3 @joeyfilth @djs8891 @love2write2626

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[joocomics]

ಬ different kind of normal

pairing: idol!taehyun x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut — mdni! wc: 1.7k

contains: situationship, reunion sex, sub!reader, slight hint of dumbification, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, reader is emotional and cries during sex, not a happy ending (?)

a/n: this has been sitting in the drafts since august and it’s finally seeing the light of day. cannot believe such angsty smut is happening on joocomics, tbh i don’t think i’ll be writing anything similar anytime soon phew it was tricky and i realised that i need my happy endings. but i wanted to try smth new, i really hope you enjoy it </3 sometimes you just need a kim taehyun to numb your emotions

[ txt masterlist | general masterlist ]

You go down the familiar stairs and walk into the bar. It’s loud, lit by the usual dim yellow-ish lights, the scent of alcohol and skin is covering every corner, wrapping around your silhouette.

Your eyes observe the place to search for him and it doesn’t take long to find him - he’s sitting on your usual spot which is distanced from every other table; it feels intimate and secluded.

None of the people who visit this bar know who he is, nor do they know you, and sitting on this specific table every time you see each other only enhances the feeling you get in these moments - like you and him are the only people existing in this place and time.

“Taehyun,” you greet him at once.

You haven’t said his name out loud in so long. You’re not allowed to talk about him to anyone; not that you want to anyway, you want to keep him to yourself though it feels nice to be able to roll it off your tongue again. It feels freeing, especially in his presence.

Maybe he missed hearing his name in your voice, because his eyes smile at the sound before he even turns to face you. The letters ring nicely, like his name is something he can feel caressing his skin when you’re the one saying it.

“You’re here.” He automatically leans forward after you sit down next to him; the usual gravitational force that always pulls you together is another thing he was anticipating to experience again.

His one arm goes over your shoulders and the sudden warmth enveloping you makes your knees weak. The truth is, they were already weak from the steps you had to take to reach your table, but now they feel like they’re about to melt.

Being so close to him months later feels like it’s your first date all over again. You hate it and love it all at the same time.

“I just ordered your favorite,” he says and you can hear the slight note of pride in his smooth voice.

His hair is covered from a black cap which he eventually takes off before running a hand through his hair; it grabs your attention with a new color that you haven’t seen him with in person before.

You point out the obvious fact about how he still remembers your order as you take a minute to observe the attractive features that make up the face you learned to love.

“Of course I do,” he simply replies, leaning in for a kiss.

The first kiss after three and a half months. It feels so exciting and electrifying, just like the very first one you had a year ago, but at the same time it feels familiar too - like you’re reminiscing on a comforting memory you haven’t looked back on for a while.

His hand slides up your thigh, then travels up your hip only to sneak in discreetly beneath your shirt, sending you pleasant shockwaves. Soon enough he breaks the kiss though, careful not to bring any unnecessary attention on you.

“Next month I’m gonna have a week off.” Taehyun speaks up after a moment of silence between the two of you. After a sip of his beer, he continues: “I was thinking that you can come visit me if you want.”

Yes… Yes. You do. You want to scream it out loud. But the only thing you do is breathe in, staring inside the cup of your cocktail; trying to force yourself to speak before your mind turns blank.

“You don’t need to worry about money,” he adds as he shifts his gaze to you, hopeful and anticipating of your response. “It’s all on me, baby.”

There it is - the reminder you needed before giving any answers. His money, his fame. His life that’s so unfitting to yours. The pink balloon you found yourself in for a moment as he shared about his plan, tempting you to naively build dreams about your one week together, it pops, and brings you back to the harsh reality.

“Tae…” You shake head, “no matter what we do or tell each other we can’t be normal.”

Taehyun’s brows furrow at your choice of word.

Normal.

“This has to end at some point, I don’t think we should complicate things any further… as we’ve already said before.” You exhale deeply after blurting out the things you’ve been practicing on your way here. He didn’t hear the sound that escaped your lips because of the music mixed with the chatter, but if he did, he’d have known that saying all of this cost you an immense amount of energy.

You don’t glance at him even once, but Taehyun on the other hand can’t stop staring at you like he’s in some sort of a bad dream that’ll end soon if he’s patient enough.

“Right, right…” He nods, finally able to force his eyes somewhere else. He peers down at his hands on the table that begin to tap nervously at the wooden surface, sharing almost the same rhythm as his heartbeat. “You’re right, that’s the wisest thing to do.”

You know it is, but hearing him agree turns out to be more painful than you expect.

For the best, this has to end soon, you remind yourself. Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow.

“I missed you,” Taehyun rises your body temperature through raspy whispers and open mouthed kisses which he scatters onto your skin almost in a rush; as if you’re going to disappear from his hands if he dares to slow down. “Missed you so fuckin’ much...”

His soft lips trace a path from your neck down to your cleavage and soon enough he’s even lower, running his tongue against your stomach before kissing that area sensually too. The slight moisture slipping from the corners of his mouth in addition to the delicate sucks makes you shudder as he simultaneously tugs on your underwear.

“Missed this sweet pussy too,” he invites his fingers into your walls effortlessly. His gaze focuses upon your lips and how they open for a silent gasp as he glides through with ease because of your already collected arousal. “Did she miss me?”

While anticipating an answer, Taehyun swirls his tongue inside his mouth before letting a string of saliva fall right onto your clit; he smears it all over your folds, provoking your thighs to open even wider for him.

“Tae—“ You arch spine, emphasising your need for something more than this lingering rush that’s growing in a pace that’s not quite enough for how much you ache for his touch right now. “Please…”

“I think she did.” A lustful spark shimmers in his eyes as his hand maintains its delicate motions. The movements make you moan every time his fingertips reach your sensitive bundle of nerves before slipping back down again. “Say it.”

At once he meets your eyes as his frame eventually hovers over your naked flushed body.

Your hands relax on his broad shoulders as your focus fixates on his face. Hopefully there’s not as much pain into your eyes as there is in your heart in this moment. You don’t want him to know how much exactly you’re actually hurting.

“I missed you every day,” you whisper softly as your noses touch; your mouths search for each other, thirsty for the other’s taste even more now. When you feel his hand guiding his cock to your entrance your breathing catches, but you still manage to repeat it. “Of course, I missed you.”

The second he hears your words, Taehyun crashes his lips against your mouth. Because he cannot bare hearing this one more time or because he enjoys the sound of it too much - he’s not able to tell.

As he leads the kiss swiftly your legs wrap loosely around his hips and your warm walls immediately squeeze onto him as he quickens the pace, eager to make up for all the time you were away from each other.

“Fuck—“ He grunts at the growing pleasure that he reminisced about night after night before breathing out against your neck: “Finally… I swear to god nobody else can make me feel this way.”

His voice, husky and domineering despite his on going confessions, echoes in your fuzzy mind. Although you shouldn’t, you put in all the effort you can into memorising each word he says; you hold onto it tightly as the continuous thrusts gradually turn more rigid and sharp causing your nails to sink into his shoulder blades. However, as amazing the buzzing sweet wave inside you feels, you cannot suppress the sadness that’s about to overpower you first.

You swallow another failed attempt to fight back the bitter emotion, but you can feel it lingering everywhere - in your heart, inside your stomach, on your tongue once he slows down his hips to grip your face, and inside your throat that feels like it’s closing up.

“Why are you crying?”

Taehyun peers into your eyes that are sparkling at him with a bittersweet emotion which he hasn’t gotten used to seeing inside them. His gaze lowers to your puffy lips, trembling as they separate with hesitation.

“I… I don’t know what’s gotten to me, sorry,” your arms wrap tighter to pull him closer. His thumb caressing your wet cheek only makes it worse for you. “Please, k-keep going.”

“Sweetheart,” he whispers under his breath as he fulfills your wish by resuming his thrusts - more forcefully though to distract you from the sorrow, “I’ll make it go away now, okay? Focus on me, baby.”

You grasp his shoulders while the delight starts to numb your mind with each intense push of his cock. The hits against your sweet spot are fast and strong enough to weaken your memory right away.

“There you go,” Taehyun’s pants blend with your whimpers ringing beneath him as the tears on your skin begin to dry. “Such pretty eyes, look at me, love.”

Something about seeing you cry for the first time made his heart clench, and now his mind fogs up, leaving him with only one goal - to make you cum as many times as possible so you can’t think of anything for the rest of the night.

Right now, he’d erase every single thought from your brain if he knows he’s capable of doing so.

The moment he feels you’re tightening up Taehyun’s eyes open so he doesn’t miss out on one flinch of yours.

“Yeah, I’m here, baby,” he murmus, trying to keep moving forward while your peak lasts, causing you to quiver beneath his frame. “Let go, baby, I’m right here.”

Yes, he’s here, and tomorrow morning he’s still going to be here, but you’ll be gone, because this time if he tries to stop you like all the previous times, you’re not going to look back.

But for now, you and Taehyun are close as you’ve never been before.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

! please keep in mind that english is not my first language. i apologise for any mistakes i’ve might missed

[rocksibblingsau]

Love love love ur ideas!!!!

Do you have any more headcanons for Mount Rageon Branch or Adopted by Bergens Branch?

In Mount Rageon Branch, Velvet and Veneer are still a lil self absorbed and looking for the easy way out of things. They don't wanna do any hard work, meanwhile Branch is all about hard work and doing things for yourself.

Branch sees them fighting over wanting fame and it reminds him of his brothers, so he makes it his goal to help them realize their dreams AND remain close. Since they'd be training from childhood, they'd have a better shot at learning how to sing thanks to Branch.

I can't decide if they actually do end up good singers but if they do, Branch is their manager and there would be a moment where post BroZone reunion they see Branch managing and have JD flashbacks. Branch doesn't get bad like John did about controlling their image, but the sight of Branch taking charge and giving orders for show prep really reminds them of a less than happy time of their lives.

Branch: Alright guys, we're gonna open with 'Fame' and close with 'Watch Me Work'. No, wait. Open with 'Sweet Dreams' and close with 'Fame'. Now go out there and make Mount Rageous history! Bruce: Clay I hope you're also an EMT because I think I'm having a heart attack. Clay: I'm with you bro, this is disturbing to watch.

If they don't go the singing route, Branch helps them discover SOME sort of skill they can make it big with.

They don't call him 'Branch'. Velvet decided his name had to match theirs so they call him 'Vine'. They think it's a funny name since he's always on them 'like a vine'. Branch doesn't really care what they call him as long as they stop rubbing his hair trying to suck out his "singing magic".

When Velvet and Veneer found out about Bergens, her solution was "Just stay with us at all times. I'll hold onto you like the last designer handbag at a flash sale."

If they did encounter a Bergen, Velvet would hit them in the head with her purse that weighs 10 tons.

In Bergen Branch AU, Gristle is ironically the excitable kid while Branch can barely muster any enthusiasm for anything. Some people joke that it's like Gristle's a troll at heart and Branch a Bergen. Gristle doesn't go as apathetic and listless as he does in canon since I believe the catalyst was Gristle Sr telling him nothing would ever make him happy. Since in this AU he was given Branch, he was told that Branch would make him happy, so he still has hope.

When they're older, Branch is a sort of sarcastic adviser to Gristle. Everyone's kind of figured out that even if you can get one over on Gristle, the troll on his shoulder won't be fooled and he does NOT show mercy. Gristle also takes his opinion in pretty high regard about pretty much anything.

Branch also gets pretty comfortable with his concept of mortality and he makes jokes about being eaten by Bergens constantly.

Gristle: I got another letter asking if they can buy and eat you. Branch: At this rate I'd be tempted to tell you accept all of them and watch their faces fall when they realize fifty other Bergens also get a piece. Gristle: Branch. Branch: A peanut sized serving of grey troll. Gristle: Branch. Branch: That'd probably be the one thing that could make a Bergen more miserable than you already are, if that's possible. Gristle: Branch. I'm not selling you to get eaten by fifty different Bergens. Branch: You'd be doing me a mercy and ending my suffering.

Gristle: Branch I need you to help me with the audit. Branch: *lays on his palm* Eat me. Gristle: Later. For now you have to help me. Branch: F***. Branch: Is this how you derive joy? Making trolls do your paperwork? You're the only Bergen in the world who would make me do taxes instead of eating me. Gristle: You complain too much and it ruins my appetite. Branch: Has any troll ever not complained? Do you think on Trollstice we were all jumping for joy? 'Yippie! Death!' Gristle: I dunno, try it next time and we'll see if it works.

This trait scares and unnerves other trolls. Poppy asks him to stop once they befriend Bergens because she's worried they'll take offense and "They're our friends now, not troll-eating monsters. That's in the past."

"I'd like it to be in the present so I don't have to listen to another musical number."

[ronsenthal]

George Luz x Reader

Summary: It became quite clear after all the hell you went through together from Camp Toccoa to Berchtesgaden that George Luz was something else. 

A/N: Hello there! Dear @ithinkabouttzu, I am so happy I can finally say that I am your summer gift exchanger from the @hbowardaily summer exchange event!!!I was so excited when I learned this because I’ve been a fan of your works for quite some time so I tried to make something nice for you in return. I really hope you like it!

The endless days of chatting and the countless late hours in the night of comfortable silence between you two filled your heart with joy and hope.

With the whole weight of the world on your shoulders you felt like you didn’t have the strength to keep going, but that’s when he showed up to help you ease all the pain, to help you handle it. It was always him.

Of course now it was really easier to even begin to put into words, it was almost like all the pain and the fear you went through the whole damn war blocked your eyes so it took you some time away from the boys to realise how much you did miss them. Your hands were trembling when you reached this cream white envelope in the pile of mail that came in earlier, it has this fancy calligraphy on the front and a tiny little wax seal on top, it was an invitation addressed to everyone from Easy Company to come at the Nixon’s house for a reunion, the first one since “the split”. 

You counted the days and hours to see all the guys together, to hear their stories, to see their faces and hug the hell out of them. 

When the day came you woke up really excited, got into your fav dress and headed to the party, well, at least you expected it was indeed a party given it was Lewis Nixon as the host. After you reached the address you had to blink like ten times before your eyes adjusted to the scene. The bastard came up with a whole amusement park for everyone. 

As you took your steps towards the host you saw a bunch of familiar faces, some different ones. The war changed everyone but the post-war added some civilian clothes, different hairs and even beards.

“Hey kiddo I thought you were not coming? You never replied to my letter!!!” Nixon said with a smile on his face and a big bottle of whiskey in one hand.

“I wanted to surprise you, asshole” You said with a cheeky smile on your face and rushed to hug him tight. 

“It’s so good to see you too” he said, rubbing your back while you stayed there holding each other. 

“Where are the rest of the gang?” you asked looking around “Ronald came in? And what about Dick?” 

“I was looking for the headhead myself, he is probably having another ice cream or something. Ron sent his apologies and couldn’t make it, he was busy with some fancy army thing he said he couldn’t talk about or he would have to kill me” Nix said while rolling his eyes which made you laugh out loud.

You had so much to catch up, you looked around and saw Lipton quietly having a beer with Martin and Bull, Liebgott arguing with Webster just like the old times. At this point Nixon and Winters were just walking around like those couples in old romance books but your eyes were scanning all the faces, your heart ready to skip a beat at any moment. 

When you saw his face it was like the world got warmer, his smile sent you back in time and forward into the future and the sound of his laugh was like the most beautiful symphony to your ears. Your feet had their own mind and when you realised they were leading you to him. 

He suddenly saw you too and got up and left poor Buck talking to a tree as he started to walk towards you. 

“Hey you showed up! I was starting to worry because Nix said…” you cut him as you wrapped your arms around his torso to give George the biggest hug ever. 

The familiar smell and the way his chest went up and down had some weird calming power over your body, felt like home. But after some time you let him go just to get a hold on his arms as you two walked around and just chatted about life.

You laughed so hard when you saw Shifty walking with this huge teddy bear he got from the balloon shooting game stall and George watched your eyes glowing so he took you by the hand and dragged you to the stall. 

Poor boy was dejected after he failed almost all his 5 shots and got you only a small plush duck. It didn’t matter, the small duck meant so much to you because it came from him!

It was starting to get dark and everyone was quite drunk already when Dick called up for some announcements. He made a beautiful speech about how he was happy and proud to see everybody. It was getting too emotional when Lewis cut him off and invited everybody for the barbecue dinner he arranged. The scene was so familiar, everyone holding up a plate in a long line waiting to get some food. Martin called you both to share a table and chat a bit more.

“So how is everything back home? Anyone we should worry about and talk to?” Martin asked you with his protective tone and suddenly you felt like everyone was watching you? 

“No! No one and if there was someone you guys would be the first to know” you replied trying your best not to blush or look at George, but sometimes you felt like he could read your mind and see your heart like no one else, in that moment he covered your hand with his. 

The subject then naturally changed but his hand stayed in place for everyone to see, but the guys didn’t seem to notice even when he started to rub circles at the back of your hand. That was it, the final straw.

“Georgie, can I talk to you for a second? In private?” you said biting your lip, your heart beating faster and faster.

“Of course sweetheart” he said fastly taking the cigarette out of his mouth and putting it out in the ashtray on the table. He got up and waited for you to take his hand so you could lead the way.

The eyes of all the boys followed you with confused looks as you nervously went out dragging an even more confused George behind you.

“Is everything okay?” This time there was no confusion on his face, instead it was fear.

“No it’s not okay” You said with a trembling voice “This was a big big mistake” you continued pointing at everything around. 

“I don’t understand, what is wrong?” He sounded exasperated, curious and scared. 

“Forget it please, it’s stupid let’s go back the guys are waiting for us” 

“No I’m not going anywhere else until you tell me what is wrong, because THERE IS something wrong” he said holding your hand once more. 

This sent some kind of electricity as his fingers touched you and you froze in place. He took a step forward and you closed your eyes, shaking your head rapidly. 

“You don’t understand George, do you?”

“What is wrong? Did I say something wrong? Please tell me, you’re scaring the shit out of me sweetheart. Talk to me!” tears started to roll down your cheek and you closed your eyes even harder. 

“That’s the problem, you are the problem, you are my friend George! My fucking best friend”

“And what is wrong with that? I don’t understand it please….”

“You fucking idiot” you said wiping away the tears with the tip of your fingers “I love you!”.

You finally let out the words that were stuck in your throat for so long, eight letters that were fighting so hard to be free, that were constantly tormenting you floating around your brain and growing inside your heart, fighting to survive. 

You quietly let all the tears flow when you felt his arms wrapping your body, as always it worked its magic and calmed you down. It was almost like you could finally breathe again.

“Well now we have a problem” he said with a huge smile on his lips.

“What? Of course we have a big fucking problem George! Didn’t you just hear what I said?” you looked really confused now. 

“Yes, yes we will get there sweetie” he said laughing “But first we will have to endure the endless shit show the guys are gonna pull out the moment they learn that we are a couple, because sweetheart… I don’t even know how to say it but I love you back”

He gave you a quick kiss on your lips and started to drag you back to the table with a cheeky smile and a little wink, just for you.

And of course he was right, there were applauses, screams and whistles when you two finally emerged holding hands.

Taglist: @mads-weasley, @footprintsinthesxnd, @sweetxvanixlla, @xxluckystrike, @malarkgirlypop, @lostloveletters, @next-autopsy, @ewipandora, @executethyself35, @easycompany123, @whollyjoly

[butterflydm]

pulling out bits from recent cast interviews re: s3

Several sets of interviews came out today! wotseries.com has six (!); looper.com, decider.com, & collider.com all have one each.

(speculation and spoilers for s3 and for the books through TFoH)

In Ceara's wotseries interview, we get this little hint:

WotSeries: How far along in the books are you? Ceara: I wouldn’t want to say because I read up to where we are in the scripts, and I think that would give away too much.

This implies to me that s3 is going to go a bit beyond The Shadow Rising, at least in places, because it's no secret that TSR is going to be the spine of the season.

We get more from Daniel:

WotSeries: How about any movement towards developing the relationship between Lan and Nynaeve in season three? Daniel: Season three, yes, it’s more of a build season for those two. There are some really great scenes, some stuff we’re really happy with. We do get to see some intimate stuff, not sexual stuff necessarily. So, some moments with them. But with Lan and Nynaeve, it’s this working toward what the book readers know it’s going to be. It all depends on how much time we get, how many seasons we get to do this thing. That’s a relationship that I’m really excited about and I love working with Zoë.

So, again, yeah, that really does make me feel like we're going to get one or two episodes at the start of the season where the whole crew is together and bonding. In the books, Lan and Nynaeve basically don't see each other at all between splitting up at the beginning of TSR and then eight million years later in ACoS. I do think that we might also get a reunion of at least some of the characters at the end of s3, though.

In Donal's interview:

Dónal: Well, I have big faith in Mat. I’m pretty confident in him. Regarding chatting to women.

This makes me wonder if we're getting Melindhra introduced next season. Because, uh, Mat has not really had a lot of success so far. I mean, apart from the very first episode.

Dónal: Well, there’s loads that you can look forward to in season 3. I mean, we’ve got much of it. I feel like I’ve filmed a good stretch of it, and I’ve really enjoyed the material and the new arc. This arc that I go on this season. And I think you can just expect things to be… there’s more moments with the characters to kind of learn about them in more quiet, subtle ways, more revealing ways. And I think it’s probably common knowledge that Mat does change his clothes between 2 and 3. You know, like really, we would have to ask questions and get concerned if he didn’t. I feel like I could tell you that. And I’m excited, man. I’m very happy to be wearing what I’m wearing.

Not that this should be shocking to anyone, lol, but Mat will have an arc next season! Dónal does a good job of not saying anything here though, lol. We WOULD have to be concerned if he hadn't changed clothes, yes, lol. I am excited to hear that Mat is getting some good character moments next season.

Ceara also shared this with us in the collider interview:

My script is always annotated with little quotes from the books, which I really love.

That's amazing! I think this is the first time anyone has mentioned it? That's a really neat way of giving the actors context for their lines.

We all knew that Elayne & Nynaeve would get a big story together in s3 but we get that confirmed:

We see Elayne bump into certain characters this season, but obviously, this cast is huge and growing all the time. I'm sure you cannot go into too many spoilers about Season 3, but for Ceara the actor, which characters are you really excited for Elayne to get to have more screen time with? COVENEY: I'm really excited to continue the journey that Zoë and I have started with Nynaeve and Elayne. I'm really excited to see where that goes because they've had such a rough start and were thrown into such extreme situations. So yeah, if the fans lovingly call it the Detective Agency, I'm excited to see if the business is thriving.

Natasha had two interviews that I've seen, one with decider and one with looper.

There's nothing for s3 in the decider interview that I could see, but from looper we get:

But it's not just about the evil deeds; it's also about the politics. When you come into Season 3 — without giving anything away — it opens up the mind to this more vulnerable side of Lanfear and where she's coming from. The relationship with Rand — there are scenes in Series 2 [where] you get little glimpses and nuggets of that, that there is a vulnerability there, or more reasons rather than just being dark and evil. Circling back to a previous comment, you said Lanfear knows what she wants. As Natasha, what do you think Lanfear wants? The goal in the whole realm of the world is, if I put it like … Beyoncé and Jay-Z. She wants to be the king and queen. What she wants is the Dragon and her to be together, have their kingdom, make some good choices. That's her main goal, and to shoo away anybody else that gets in the way of that.

So it sounds like we might be getting Lanfear's Big Offer (we could challenge the Creator) to Rand in s3, which would make sense.

[rockwgooglyeyes]

yayayay potential nyx and asa reunion ! ( somersaults around the room before front flipping out of it )

Yeas!!! Wahoo!! Honestly this ask has made me think many thoughts which is. . . why it has taken me so long to get to it *wheezes in cry-laughter* If Nyx is 20 during the current Alien Stage season (39), he probably had Asahi when he was like 13-14? (I have been thinking about aging him up? but honestly. it wouldn't really be that much better if he was sixteen or seventeen). Most likely, she would be five or six years old . . . meaning that it hasn't been that long since they were separated. Which would be all the more heartrending in my opinion because she probably hasn't forgiven him, yet.

writing drabble underneath the read more!! (trigger warning for referenced death, gun violence, panic attacks, some implied SA)

Nyx didn't expect to be sent back to Anakt but he supposes there are stranger leaps in logic. At graduation, four years ago now, he thought to himself, "This will be the last time I ever set foot inside of these walls," and it was a freeing thought, a kind one he could tell himself over and over, to soothe the parts of him that woke up during the dark of the night and screamed.

He'd been wrong; here he is, standing amidst artificial grasses, staring up at a digital blue sky that flickers and spits if you look at it long enough. He'd been wrong; Rosca is breathing, alive. He doesn't know how he messed that up, blinked and missed it, but maybe it was all the blood, the gunshots, and the way that Vera drew his focus off of the stage. He hasn't seen Vera since that day, before Round 13, where Jae remained standing on the stage with dead, dead eyes and Vii was shot dead, a new corpse on the floor. Vera is on the run, now, officially. She told him that she only did it on her owner's orders and in a horrible, twisted way, it made sense. Why else would she kill the one she loved, the one whose heartbeat was the same as hers? Ellie may not have loved Vera back but that was no reason to kill her. Not a reason for Vera, anyways.

Back underneath the flickering sky, surrounded by the whisper of false wind and sticky grass, Nyx finds himself going a little bit stir-crazy. Maybe it's that he's back in what he could call his childhood home, having spent more time here than he did with his first owner, even, or maybe it's the fact that he knows his baby girl is in the class set to graduate next. After all, Cas saw Cinnabar and dragged Nyx away, sobbing into Nyx's shoulder in a hallway while on stage, Cinnabar sang. Cas got in trouble for disappearing, too. They both knew it was worth it. Cas would've been in worse shape if he'd been there to hear Cinnabar's voice echo through the room, her name branded into his mind as whatever lyrics went in one ear and out the other. He wouldn't have even been listening and he would've been asked to comment and critique? Knowing that was his biological daughter? Well. It would've probably gone to pot right then and there.

Nyx didn't tell Cas that he was almost excited to see his daughter.

She should be what, five winters old, now? Six? Nyx has always measured her age in winters, rather than summers, because she was born in November. At least, he thinks she was.

Rubbing at his head, he lets out a sigh and walks into the shade of a nearby tree. His memory has been getting worse, lately, with all of the stress around the competition and Oryon getting what performances they can out of him before he dies in his round. He's thrust into the center stage from his dimly-lit lounges and small, intimate stages. He'd never been popular like Oryon's other pets, not in the same way, not loud enough, not bright and peppy enough, Oryon could get Nyx to act a certain way but he couldn't ever get Nyx to act that way with genuine emotion behind his eyes, a beautiful mask on his face. Nyx would play the part but he wouldn't pretend as though he was happy to be there and Oryon had yet to find a way to make him do that. He could simper all Oryon wanted, crawl onto someone's lap, trail a finger down the side of their face and whisper sweet nothings in their ear, but Oryon couldn't make him mean it.

No one could make him mean it.

It's later that day that he finds his daughter laying back in a field of flowers, staring up at the clouds moving in their set patterns in the digitized sky. He doesn't have the heart to tell her that they're not real.

"Asahi?" He says, trying to keep his voice from shaking too much. He's never been good at approaching people but how else is he supposed to do this? He doesn't think she'll want to talk to him, not unless he walks up to her and asks her to. She wasn't exactly a timid kid but she was quiet, solitary, like he'd been before the attack. Her pink-gold irises flicker to him and her eyes widen. Her hair's been straightened, he realizes absently. Before, it had curled in a mess of cowlicks. Even if it made the space behind his eyes burn a little bit, he swallows down the tears. They have no place here, after all. She looks at him for a long moment before her eyes get glassy, big tears starting to roll down her round cheeks.

"Papa?" She asks, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

"Yes, my sunrise, it's me," he answers. She sits for another moment before standing and clinging to his legs, crying into his stomach. He runs his fingers through her hair, bending over to give the impression that he's hugging her back because he can't actually, she's holding on too tightly and she's less than half his height. "Oh, baby, I missed you," he tells her, wishing that he could press a kiss to her hair. She wails louder, something he didn't really think possible, and he decides to just bite the bullet, scooping her up into his arms. She presses her face into his neck and he doesn't really know how long she hiccups into his ear but he can lean his cheek on the top of her head and listen to the warbling sound of her breathing, which is all he needed.

(ocs mentioned are Rosca (@sotogalmo), Vera (@bittersweet-adagio), Jae (@kofeedoggo), Vii (@starry-skiez) and Cas (@lookatmysillies). Otherwise, Cinnabar belongs to you, Apri, as does Asahi!)

[be-dazzled]

JUVIA DAY 2023: Hare Hare

Gray Fullbuster, Juvia Lockser June 3, 2023 Posted: June 30, 2023

Writer’s Corner: Before June ends, I'd like to share this something I came up with for Juvia Day. A little bit late but I heard we are experiencing some Gruvia drought, so here's me trying... Enjoy!

P.S. thank you for the correction regarding Keyes/Keith, @groovyah!!!

HAPPY JUVIA DAY!

All rights reserve to Hiro Mashima, original creator.

Masterlist

---

How long has it been since Gray had been dragging his feet along the rough road? He stopped caring two towns ago. All that thinking only made the road grow wider. So, he decided it was better to keep his mouth shut behind the redhead leading their journey. All Gray wanted was just a little bit of information about the next dragon god they are trying to seal away. Was that too much to ask? He’d really like to put some timeline into this journey because, if he was being honest, Gray was not getting any younger and there were some things he wanted to do after this quest. But if he was really, really, being honest, he kinda, sorta looking forward to seeing a certain someone.

“Oh, this looks familiar.” It was Lucy who first noticed.

How she kept that cheery spirit in her voice was beyond Gray.

But, true enough, Gray was greeted by a familiar intersection, marked by shabby and wooden signage. He’d seen it far too many times not to recognize the arrow pointing to home – Magnolia.

Magnolia. Fairytail. Home.

That’s how that thought always flowed. Fairytail has always been home. Lately, however, his thoughts ended on something else.

Fairytail. Home. Juvia.

He wasn’t sure when it started. When she became the end of that train of thought. All he knew was when he thought of home, the picture of her blue waves, sparkling eyes, welcoming smile, and soft voice that called out to him lovingly, started to stake a claim on his consciousness.

Gray-sama, welcome home.

“It’s been a while since the last time.”

The Requip mage suggested they regroup at the guild and return to their journey after gathering some intel. Besides, they all needed to recuperate and deserved to have fun after the draining fight at the Labyrinth.

“Alright!” Exclaimed the fire-dragon slayer. “Let’s meet everyone!”

The anticipation brought some energy back to the travel party. So much so that they all agreed on how they looked forward to seeing their guild members. In Gray’s case, there was one particular member whose picture slowly and clearly appeared in his mind.

Gray-sama!

He probably didn’t notice it himself but the thought of seeing Juvia had its wicked way to arc the line of Gray’s lips.

...

The guild was rowdy as ever but the chaos brought in by Team Natsu, with two other dragon-slayers in tow, was most welcomed. They greeted each other with the excitement of an unexpected reunion. Yet amidst that chaos, Gray was able to cut through the cacophony of crazy and made his way to where his thoughts had lain lately – Juvia Lockser. Before he could take a step further, the water-mage was already walking toward him.

“Oh! My! Gray! Samaaaaaa!” Her every step was accentuated by her sweet greeting.

Juvia tackled him to the ground with the sheer force of her embrace. Then she said something, something about thinking so much of Gray that she had physically turned into him.

“That makes no sense!” He barked without thinking.

They were always like this. She’d say something ridiculous and he’d react like Juvia’s thinking was outside the realm of logic. He was so used to the crazy that his responses had become automated. But it’s not that she always said something impossible. His consciousness would like to correct him, however, when he suddenly remembered the fight he had with Sai.

Love Bond

His tone quickly dropped as the memory hit him like an arrow.

I transmuted your “bond”…

“No… it was that…” Gray avoided Juvia’s expectant gaze, scratching the back of his head thinking it might somehow redirect her attention away from his face.

“Could it be that you took on Juvia’s form as well?”

with the woman you’re in love with.

He didn’t want Juvia to see him fight this sudden rush of heat. So, he played it cool, like always.

“Well, it’s just…”

While he was thinking of a way to properly formulate his answer, so that she wouldn’t twist it into something out of this world, the alchemist’s words kept repeating in his head, louder by the minute.

the woman you’re in love with

Cornered, Gray mustered enough courage to take a peep at the water-mage, who was beaming at him with the smile that seemed forever imprinted on Gray’s mind. She looked like she wasn’t really waiting for an answer, content in just making conversation. That gave Gray some space to breathe. He wasn’t really sure how to explain to Juvia what the love bond alchemy was without confessing–confusing! without confusing her. But come to think of it, Juvia’s theory about why she turned into Gray that day wasn’t too far from possible.

As if sensing his intention, Juvia quickly dropped the subject. He led Gray towards the table where Natsu was already starting some commotion. The ice-mage didn’t need an invitation to join that circus. He effortlessly merged into the chaos – an old habit. Juvia was more than happy to stay out of the riotous entanglement. Glad on simply hollering for him at the sidelines – her old and still most favorite hobby. It shouldn’t come as a surprise how easily they both fell into the usual.

Gray ought to laugh at himself though. He should have realized it by now; Juvia was so attuned to his feelings that he didn’t even have to say it. Juvia just knew. She already knew.

The snow fairy toys with the women sleeping in the depths of your heart.

Gray-sama…

...

The reunion at the guild wrapped up in a tangled mess of passed-out drunks and beaten-up sobers. Good thing Gray still had full control of his faculties, and so did Juvia. He had the mindfulness of being sober enough to walk Juvia home; finally getting some alone time with her.

The walk to Fairy Hills was, in fact, far but seemed too short to recount all of Gray’s stories of his travels. He wasn’t the talkative type. Actually, he’d much rather let his fists talk than his mouth. But they’ve spent so much time apart that there were a lot of funny and incredible moments worth sharing. As Gray retold his stories, Juvia filled all the spaces with small reactions, going through the entire spectrum of emotions. When he ran out of things to say, he’d notice the few changes his absence did to Juvia – like how her hair grew a bit longer. Her bangs started to level to her eyes and framed her face a bit differently than he remembered. There was something about her, something he couldn’t pinpoint exactly. In the way she walked or spoke, it felt as if she matured in his absence. Has she grown taller? Her clothes, he noticed, were becoming tight around some areas of her body – he scolded himself at the last one because it brought back the memory of Juvina-sama stripping naked in front of him.

“You don’t look all right, Gray-sama. Is something wrong?”

Gray had to push that memory to the farthest back of his mind. He knew, even if Juvina was a spitting image of Juvia, the water-mage would never forgive her for flashing Gray. She would hunt the poor celebrity down.

Imagining what Juvia would do to her, Gray actually felt bad for Juvina-sama.

“N-nothing.”

When they reached the front of the female dormitory, Gray felt a tug of disappointment. An anxious nag that he was leaving something important. It wasn’t too big a feeling but enough to recognize what it was. And with it came another, one that told him he couldn’t wait to see her again or made him wonder when the next time would be. Team Natsu was planning to travel to Gazania and visit Sabertooth’s comprehensive library for some information. It would take Erza one more day to gather all the essentials for the long trip. After that, he wasn’t too sure when would be able to see Juvia again. The thought pushed Gray to resolve his feelings and decide to see her again if her schedule would allow it.

“Juvia, are you free tomorrow?”

“Juvia will make herself free!”

Gray panicked at Juvia’s sudden change of demeanor. And here he was, feeling regretful that she had actually matured in his absence, that maybe she’d changed into someone he wouldn’t recognize. And while it wasn’t all too new and surprising, Gray still wasn’t okay with the fact that Juvia would abandon everything for his sake.

He didn’t deserve it.

“No, I only meant…” it wasn’t like he didn’t like it, “if you’re… coincidentally if you don’t have anything to do, y’know.” It just felt like he was asking too much from her if she had to rearrange her day to accommodate him.

“Juvia can get out of anything to spend time with Gray-sama.” Seeing how her enthusiasm put Gray in an awkward position, Juvia clarified, “Since, Gray-sama will be gone for a long time again.”

“That’s…” Guilt clawed at Gray and he would have let it gnaw at him if it wasn’t for Juvia’s gentle smile and understanding gaze. So, he expelled a sigh of complete resignation. He was allowed to be selfish sometimes, wasn’t he?

“Alright, then. Let’s go out tomorrow.”

“D-d-date?!”

Gray could easily predict what would happen – and that’s carrying Juvia into the dormitory, bridal style, and explaining to the agitated swordswoman why exactly was Juvia mumbling ‘gray-sama, juvia, first date’ in a trance.

...

Gray wasn’t particularly nervous about today. He had everything in order. He wasn't a planner. Gray was the kind that lived life day by day. Went with the flow. Sailed with the tides. Nevertheless, he had a general idea of how this day would go down. He already had the checklist in his head, mentally ticking off the boxes per accomplishment.

Ask Juvia on a dat-HANG OUT. Ask Juvia to hang out while he was still in town – mentally crossed off the list. Although he initially planned on picking her up at Fairy Hills, his indiscretion the night before led him to be banned from hanging around the all-girls dormitory. While his unconscious stripping was nothing new to the Fairy Tail girls, Erza still felt the need to discipline his public exhibition. Hence, the 2-year ban. So, the two agreed to meet each other at the guild.

Gray caught himself stripping midway to the guild. He quickly ran back to find his abandoned coat and slipped back into it.

“That was close!” He exclaimed. He, at least, wanted to meet Juvia on their date HANG OUT decent.

He couldn’t help it though; the sun was unusually bright today. He shielded his eyes and quickly regretted daring to stare directly up at the sun. But he was glad. The weather was fine. More than fine actually, suitable for today’s destination – the amusement park. News about a newly opened amusement park reached beyond the borders of Magnolia. He heard about the opening while traveling back and he was curious to see it since then. He could already imagine trying all the fun rides the park boasted, adding a small bounce on his steps.

He turned the corner and jumped back. He wasn’t expecting Juvia to be so early. He, at least, wanted to be the one waiting for her but the water mage was already standing under the shade of Bake Bake Shop's awning. What really surprised Gray, making his breath hitch in his throat, was that Juvia looked different. She wasn't wearing her usual clothes. Instead, Juvia opted for a flowy skirt shorter than the one she commonly used. She paired it up with a strapless top and some high boots and completed her look with a brown puffy bonnet atop her head. Juvia had never looked this casual and c-c-cute…

He wondered how long she had been standing there. And, how long has she been fending off those losers walking up to her and trying to strike up a conversation?

His astonished eyes quickly gloomed.

But Gray had nothing to worry about. He, himself, said it, Juvia was one of the strongest mages of Fairy Tail. She defeated Keith/Keyes, one of the Demon Gates. And there was no question Juvia could have ended Invel too, a Spriggan 12. The water mage was a force to be reckoned with. He didn’t need to worry for her safety, though he was allowed to, and let himself do so every now and then. He didn’t need to worry about other men hanging around the watermage; for Juvia only had eyes for her Gray-sama.

“Sorry. Juvia is waiting for her Gray-sama.”

Gray had only seen that void in Juvia’s eyes on a few occasions. When she was still a member of Phantom Lord. When she was still the rain woman, her eyes were filled with a pointed gloom of disinterest – in life and in other people’s business. It vanished when she became part of Fairytail and when he came into her life. Sometimes, he’d entertain the illusion that he was the one who brought those sparks into her lovely blue eyes. She claimed that he did but that was too grand an illusion. So, for now, he’d settle for being the center of those ocean eyes.

“Gray-sama!”

There! There it was the brightest glimmer in her round orbs. As sparkly as the ocean being kissed by the sun. They shone because and for Gray – only for him.

Gray met her half way, approaching Juvia who scampered towards him. He waited for the tackle, like she always did when they saw each other, and if he was being honest, he wouldn’t mind it. Only to show those losers why they shouldn’t be approaching the water mage. But she settled on just beaming at him in her cute ensemble; the short skirt swaying along as she moved.

“Where is Gray-sama taking Juvia?”

He answered her smile with his cool, pompous grin. Well, he wasn’t being cocky at Juvia. Gray just wanted to show those bastards.

“You’ll see.”

Oh, if only the bastards could see Gray now, his cool, cocky grin trembling at the sight of the sign plastered at the gate – CLOSED FOR RENOVATION.

"I-I… I should have ch-ch-checked yesterday." He lamented.

AMUSEMENT PARK DATE HANG OUT - X

Juvia, who was hiding an amused smile behind one hand, was not at all disappointed. She was just happy to be spending time with Gray, just the two of them. Juvia couldn’t ask for more.

"It's alright, Gray-sama." Juvia placed a consoling hand on Gray's shoulder. "Juvia doesn't mind just walking around."

Gray turned a heel, letting Juvia push him back to the road where they came from, as he kept mumbling a dejected 'no'. Now, he was the one in a daze. Because, what a major bullcrap that was; he was really looking forward to trying the rides all day.

Juvia started a conversation to keep him from sulking. He noticed, however, that she kept fidgeting beside him. She was playing with her fingers, unsure where to keep her hand between them. Gray didn't notice himself already staring at it, at Juvia's hand. Then, he started to become conscious of his own kept inside his pants pocket. There was something off about just keeping his hands in there, which he found strange because he never noticed anything wrong about it before. So, to redress this unsettling feeling, Gray pulled one hand out of his pocket and, as he was about to reach out and seek Juvia's, something swooped in between and knocked them apart.

Of course, he had to check first if Juvia was okay before he screamed at the bastard who slipped in between them.

"Hey, watch it!"

"Sorry, mister!"

It was a kid who looked no older than Greige from Edolas.

Greige.

A mental picture of his and Juvia’s child, his cute little face and aloof eyes, tugged a string in his heart.

"Storm-chan, please wait for onii-chan!"

A young man apologized to the two mages, bowing his head so desperately that Gray thought he was going to break his back. Then, grabbed the kid and went along. He seemed troubled by his little brother but now that he carried the child in his arms, onii-chan seemed unbothered by it. They laughed together as they went their way. That’s when Gray noticed the colorful donut floater the young man had circled around his arm.

The brothers were headed to the beach.

That seems like a good idea, Gray thought.

Hit with excitement knowing today may not be a waste after all, Gray grabbed Juvia’s hand, leading her in the race to the nearest beach in town. Juvia was more than happy to be dragged along by him. How could she not when Gray never let go of her hand the entire train ride? Even when he seemed to have finally noticed it because he turned his face away and spewed something about holding hands being a normal thing.

Finally, something right was happening.

or so they thought.

Now, Gray's mood wasn't the only thing dampened by the depressing turn of events, forcing the two to find shelter from the sudden downpour. They were both soaking wet.

Way to rain on Gray's parade, quite literally.

Gray scowled at the curtain of water holding them hostage under some makeshift shed. He pushed out his hand, his palm testing the stream spilling over the roof. By doing so, he’d be able to tell if the rain was about to stop and if they could still salvage whatever remained of their day. With the strength of the rainfall, it wasn’t anytime soon. He hissed.

"This isn't Juvia's doing."

Gray, surprised at the confession, turned to Juvia with a confused look. Of course, this gloomy weather wasn't because of Juvia. His face contorted into utter confusion. How could she even assume that idea ever crossed Gray's mind?

The old Gray, the one who didn't fully understand her, would have scolded her for even entertaining those thoughts. But that version of himself was long gone now. This new Gray understood Juvia at her very core.

"I know." Was all he said, offering the sulking water mage a soft smile, one that said he would never think that. Not in a hundred years.

Because Gray-sama was the one who stopped Juvia's rain.

"Know what, to hell with this." He grabbed Juvia by the hand and pulled her out into the pouring rain. "Who says we can't have fun, eh?"

Soaking wet, the two crazy teenagers, as the onlookers anointed them, sprinted to the beach, unafraid of the strong waves hitting the shore; the sheer force of it dragged Gray and Juvia as it pulled back. They played so carelessly, splashing each other or pushing one another into the water. Then they'd share childish giggles at how silly they might have seemed. They walked on the coastal lane too, feeling the wet sand on the flat of their feet, lumps sticking between the toes.

Gray would remember something stupid Natsu said or did, or an embarrassing episode happening to Lucy. He remembered that one time when he took the last stick of grilled squid, which was meant for Erza, and thought he was going to finally meet his end. Fear crossed Juvia’s face who was absorbed with the story. Knowing the Requip Mage, Gray’s apprehensions weren’t unfounded.

Juvia would recount a few of her own stories too; telling him she went on a job with Lisanna where they had to wear funny costumes. She was a tree and Lisanna was a mountain. Gray almost broke his back laughing.

When Gray's stomach started to protest, he had the bright idea of dining al fresco. Well, they really had no other choice. No restaurant owner in their right mind would let a drenched couple dine inside. So, they settled on a small coffee table and took a shed under its large umbrella. Gray had no problem ordering shaved ice despite that weather. As much as Juvia wanted to share with him, she wouldn't survive a combination of wet clothes, rainy weather, and cold dessert. A cup of hot cocoa was the far better choice.

Juvia took a sip, the hot sweet liquid sliding from her throat and down to her stomach, warming up her insides. The water mage let out a satisfied sigh as she watched Gray, who was sitting opposite her, gulp down ice. They sat in silence, calmed by the sound of rain pelting on top of the striped parasol. While she immensely did enjoy chatty Gray, Juvia equally loved moments like this when they could just be comfortable around each other's presence. It gave her time to take notice of a few changes in Gray. He seemed to have lost some weight. She asked if he was eating all right. He said he was but all the walking and fighting burned a few pounds off of him. Juvia promised to make him a bento when she sees him off tomorrow. She said it so casually as if preparing him lunch was expected of her. Gray smiled at that, just a sober slant of the lips, and told her he’d hold her to that promise. But quickly reminded her not to give it when Natsu’s around.

“I don’t want Flamebrain to steal it or somethin’.”

They fell in total but welcomed silence again, so they could listen to the faint sound of rain hitting the umbrella. It sounded like the rain was about to end soon. Lamentably, Gray and Juvia’s time might be ending soon too. Juvia let out another sigh, this time, a bit wistful.

“What’s wrong, Juvia?”

Gray’s face was contorted into worry.

“Nothing.” She pouted. “Juvia will just miss Gray-sama.”

Imagining the days she has to spend without the presence of Gray, Juvia couldn’t help but whine, slumping herself across the table at the sullen realization that Gray-sama will be so far away again. At the other end of the world even!

She snapped back up when warmth enclosed her hand. Her heart skipped a beat when she confirmed that it was Gray’s hand gently placed over hers. She stared at Gray, who returned the look with equal guilt and plea. His eyes, softened by his silent request, gave her an assurance that he wouldn’t be long. There was promise in them that whatever happens, he’ll find his way home – to her.

Juvia didn’t even have to hear him say it. She knew. She could see it in the way he softly looked into her eyes and gently squeezed her hand. Gray had conveyed his feelings through these simple gestures far better than his words ever could. And they reached Juvia, loud and clear.

I will be back.

Juvia will wait for you, Gray-sama.

Gray opened his mouth to say something but he quickly noticed the rain retreating. He withdrew from her gaze only to confirm this suspicion. Just like the way he tested the strength of the downpour earlier, Gray extended his free hand outside the roof of the umbrella. All the while, not loosening his hold on Juvia’s hand now enclosed in his.

Totally unnecessary but very much appreciated.

“Looks like it stopped raining.”

The realization widened both their eyes; a rapturous glimmer reflected in both. As if reading each other’s minds, Gray and Juvia cheered in unison, “Let’s try wave surfing!”

The hold on each other’s arm had become so permanent that wherever they went, none of them ever let go.

Even when the two of them were brought in at the police station for indecent exposure. Because Gray and Juvia were so excited to ride the waves, now that the sun had peaked through the clouds and the weather finally agreed with them, they both unconsciously stripped down and walked around in public in their intimates.

It didn’t come as a surprise for Gray since he’d been down the station on more than one occasion, all for the same reason. He was embarrassed though, for causing Juvia to spend the night in jail on their last night together.

“Juvia doesn’t mind, Gray-sama!”

The culprit for his current state – his face turning beet red – clung to him despite the warnings from the watch guard. The heat from, he wasn’t sure if it was because of getting in jail, their intimate position together inside the very small space, or maybe both, was making him nauseous.

What tipped the scale, though, was having Erza Scarlet march down the police station to bail them both out. And the Requip Mage did not look happy. In fact, she was so mad about having to wake up in the middle of her beauty rest and come down the station that she added another year to Gray’s ban from ever setting foot at Fairy Hills.

And for Juvia, to endure a year of curfew.

“As if it’s not punishment enough for Juvia not being able to see Gray-sama in the middle of the 100 year quest.” Juvia mumbled under her breath as she miserably followed Erza home.

“You were saying somethin’?”

Juvia was one of the strongest mages of one of the strongest guilds in Fiore. She was not afraid of anything, except for that murderous glint in Erza’s brown eyes that made her feel weak, small and breakable all at the same time.

“N-not-nothing, Erza-san.”

...

As promised, Juvia brought Gray a bento lunch she woke up so early to make. They met separately ahead of the others so that, as Gray requested, he could eat it in peace, away from the nosy fire dragon slayer who would have demanded a bite or two. They walked together to Team Natsu’s meeting point and Juvia wished them well on their journey to the Sabertooth guild. She sulked at Gray’s departure despite his assurances that he would be back, whatever it took. She suggested he give her a goodbye kiss so she wouldn’t miss him that much and aggravated the swordswoman for flirting too much in the open.

Juvia settled with just waving her beloved Gray goodbye, looking as their figures grew smaller and smaller by the distance. She didn’t know how long the quest would take her beloved away. But in those times that she missed him, in those hours that she’s alone and lonely, in those moments when her desire to see the ice-mage overwhelmed her, she had yesterday and today to think back to. This feeling today, the elated bliss lingering from having to spend the whole day with Gray, playing around and just having fun, without a care in the world.

In spite of the heavy rain.

Or maybe, because of it.

Gray not only took her rain away. Yesterday, he gave a whole different meaning to it.

[fulloflambing]

just yap about my most recent work (how i made it, the alternate plots or endings), and my future posts :D

writing that story took soooo much brain juice from me i feel like my brain has become a wringed sponge. im honestly rlly proud i managed to finish it😭

ive had writing experience before here on tumblr but i never rlly put alot of effort into it and it often made me feel bad about how i finished my stories. i always just thought about a vague plot, typed away, and posted it. some people enjoyed it n i was grateful for that but whenever id reread my own stories it would make me criticize myself and make me unmotivated to write, which eventually made me delete my old writeblr.

but ever since i've come back, and especially with 'heaven can wait', i rlly took my time to rewrite things i didnt find fitting. ive stopped writing just to post, but writing to actually enjoy and better my skills. im honestly proud of myself for taking the time to do that because i am, truthfully, a very impatient person n i hate redoing things. actually, i rewrote the story by like the 3.5k word mark TWICE and made sure i was truly happy with it. the plot was actually supposed to go two ways!:

kinich would find reader in their home, and they could comfort eachother real quick in the house before kinich escorted them to the survival shelter. kinich would then make a promise to reader to come back alive and boom boom fighting wham he comes back to them and boom emotional reunion!

^ i changed my mind halfway while writing this because i wanted the story to have more depth and to make it more about reader and kinich both experiencing grief and negative emotions more. this plotline was just too lovey dovey and chill for my liking.

2. kinich reunites with the reader in the end by finding her dead asleep in the tribe's infirmary.

^ i didnt like this ending because i felt like it would've been a boring climax to the heavy emotions of reader as she was separated from kinich thinking he was dead. does that make sense? like it felt like a boring way to end off y/n's part after building up all these negative thoughts swirling in their mind just for her not to even see kinich come back from war to have those negative thoughts be swooped away from her in a romantic light. it was cute tho, kinich would've been whispering 'im home' as he admired reader as they recovered but i didnt want a calm ending for the story. i wanted a passionate, emotional reunion type :) like very 'light after the storm'-esque type of ending!

some parts of the story i dont like but i feel like is the part i could do for the story was how mavuika defeated the abyss? i CANT WRITE ACTION FOR SHYT!!!! so it took so much deleting and rewriting and paraphrasing it actually got me a headache just to write that small section 😭😭

on a more exciting note, the next thingy ill write is probably for kinich's birthday! im very torn about what ill write and when ill write it because i have exams right after kinichs bday so i dont think ill have time to write for it.

but after i figure out and post a birthday special for kinich, i'll be writing a more angsty, heartbroken-y story kind of related to 'heaven can wait' but if things went wrong. its really not an alternate ending, more of like "if it ended this way, this would've happened." its been a plot thats been marinating in my head for awhile and i think you guys will rlly like it! its gonna be angst with comfort but still sad ending hihi sorry.

i have alot of canon fanfic ideas that i wna write as soon as possible but i feel like i should switch it up and write some modern!au fics. and maybe with other characters (my other favs! capitano, xiao, thoma, etc.). i also feel like i have to prepare a 100 follower special soon but i have nooo idea what to do for it huhu THANK U BTW GUYS FOR 81 FOLLOWERS AAA IM SO TOUCHED

in short, i have a lot and i mean srsly alot of kinich ideas rn but my schedule is gonna be cramped this week. but after ill be free again! my problem is i just dont know what to write first 😔💔

anyway, maybe ill do a poll or something :) ILL SEE WHAT I CAN DO!!

if you've read this far, thank u sm and i appreciate it >< ill do my best to write as much as i can.

[alovesreading]

Constant Repeat | Part 7

Summary: Having worked at Focus Creeps for a year, Ella knows that as a production assistant and part of the crew, there’s one important rule: don’t interact with the talent unless it’s needed. But once she meets Arctic Monkeys, and the recording of the music videos for their upcoming fourth studio album starts, the band seem to become her exception. Not only because they treat her more like a friend than just someone else they’re working with but when Alex continuously makes her blush with his flirting, so enthralled by her that he forgets he’s got a girlfriend, Ella finds herself growing closer to him. As videos are filmed, wrapped and edited, the friendship lines become blurry. Situations unfold, secrets are told and others are kept under lock and key, but how long can Alex and Ella endure being stuck in each other’s minds on constant repeat.

Word Count: 16.8k 

Story Warnings: Throughout this series there will be suggestive talk, jealousy, cheating, alcohol and drug use, angst, smut.  

A/N: Happy Friday my lovelies! This is probably one of my favorite chapters and you'll know why by the end of it. Seeing your reactions to this one is gonna be a wonderful birthday gift hahaha, so I'm very excited to see what you think of it!! Enjoy xx

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 |

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It was the start of the second week of the year and Matt had just arrived in Los Angeles. Ella had picked Breana up early to go and pick him up from the airport, and she had acted like the couple's reunion hadn't made her tear up. She truly loved them both so much, even if they were a multiplied menace together.

The three went to have breakfast, with Julian joining them shortly after they had been seated. It was a cute little bakery that had some of the best pastries and coffee Ella had ever had, she went there so often that she was recognized by the staff.

"So how were the holidays?" Ella let her cup of tea rest on the table softly to give the drummer her whole attention, hoping to hear only wonderful things about the holiday season in his hometown.

Matt just shrugged, knowing it had been good but like usual, "Really good, nothing too interesting. Got to spend time with my mum and dad, the lads..." But he trailed off, remembering his grand discovery. "Well..." He started with bubbling excitement but when he realized Julian was there, and Ella was very much not single, he decided against telling her. It would only bring trouble. "No, yeah, nothing interesting."

Ella chuckled, sarcastically replying, "Don't sound so sure there."

"Sorry, I thought something worth telling had happened but it's nothing." It was something, but he just couldn't say it. It was a bad idea. "Hope you spoiled this one for me during the holidays." Matt was quick to change the subject, hugging his girlfriend into his side.

Ella smirked, "Surely, I did. I'm sure Julian got a bit jealous over how much time I was spending with her rather than with him."

"These two right?" Matt asked jokingly, with a facial expression that screamed 'can you believe them?'

Julian shook his head, "They're unbelievable."

"Don't go complaining much, most of the time we spend together is when we take those pictures you two love so much." Bre fought, raising her finger up in the air and pointing at both the men accusingly.

Matt lifted his hands up, "Right, right."

Ella wanted to taunt the drummer some more so she added, "Don't show him the pictures from the last session we had, make him beg for them."

"Jesus Christ," Matt scoffed playfully, "Does she always have you begging, mate?"

Ella turned her gaze to Julian, scowling at him. "You will not disclose that information."

"I won't," Julian agreed but then he turned to Matt and mouthed, "Sometimes."

Bre smirked and Matt laughed, Ella smacked Julian's hand which was resting on top of her thigh. The two boys were nothing but trouble.

The next seven days had been just like that, pure banter coming from the drummer, mainly targeted at Ella. He just couldn't hold himself back from teasing her, it was funny seeing her glaring at him all annoyed.

Ella had spent most of the days third wheeling for Bre and Matt, but she truly didn't mind. Julian had started the year with full force, work taking him away most of the week but she wouldn't complain, not when he enjoyed what he did so much and he still made sure to text her sweet things and updates about his whereabouts throughout the day. He had promised her to spend the weekends he had free with her and that's exactly what they had done the weekend before the rest of the band was due to arrive.

When Monday morning arrived, she was ecstatic to go back into the rhythm of things at the studio but much more excited to have her friends back. She was determined to start the year well, having fully let go of any grudges she had from her past with Alex and with her mind set on having things be the way they had been before, when they first had met.

She gave them all a tight hug when she had gotten to Rancho de la Luna.

"How's everything been?" Ella asked them all, and they all replied positively with smiles on their faces. They were brief at telling her how the holidays had been but it all sounded so nice, she was happy for them.

She'd smiled back at them and, once inside, they all rolled right back into the groove of things.

About three hours into the time they'd been there, James had gotten sent the final version of a song they'd done in their last week in LA. They had all agreed in wanting to hear it so James plugged his laptop to the audio system and played it.

The drums quickly drowned the room and then joined the bass which made the room vibrate, the guitar soon came after and Ella was already obsessed with the song.

She hadn't been prepared when Alex's sultry voice started singing, but hearing the first word be the name Arabella got her thinking about how this song was a love song for Arielle.

She cooed internally, thinking about how adorable Alex was for that.

When it got to the chorus, she'd gotten excited over hearing their own version of the 'War Pigs' guitar riff. She'd started beaming at the music she was listening to.

She was slightly confused about the first line of the second verse, feeling oddly personally addressed but it just had to be her brain trying to make shit about herself. She even ignored the fact that the chorus lyrics reminded her of when they were driving down San Diego's coast on the way to that restaurant they visited after Belmont Park.

But when the bridge started and it brought back those memories with each line, she couldn't help her smile faltering, falling down until it completely disappeared. She couldn't believe what she had just heard, her thoughts too scattered to even gush over the stunning guitar solo that was bouncing off the walls by the end.

Ella only snapped back to reality when the last chord of the guitar died inside the room and the lads started eagerly talking about the song and how it had ended up sounding. She was too stunned to speak, having trouble letting the words roll off her tongue when Jamie asked her if she'd liked it.

Forcing herself to smile, Ella nodded, "Oh, yeah, you absolutely killed that Black Sabbath guitar riff." Her gaze was swimming around the room but trying her hardest to keep it from falling on Alex's. "What's the name of this one?" She asked just to make sure.

"Arabella." Jamie replied with a soft grin and she could only nod.

She was so confused, her steps slow as she went back to the settee and focused again on replying to emails but as the minutes passed and the letters on the screen turned into one single blob of unreadable imagery, she decided she needed a breather.

She grabbed her cigarettes and lighter and exited the place. Her shaky legs were barely able to carry her up to where her bike was parked. She plopped down on it, sighing with her head still scrambled. What the fuck? The whiplash she'd gotten from that song was enough to make her want to take the day off.

So much for wanting things to go back to normal.

She sat there, with the sun keeping her warm despite the chilly winds of January, smoking until she felt better. It was on her third cigarette that she had tried to turn the situation around in her head—Maybe he just wrote it a long while ago, she convinced herself and the more she said it, the more it became more factual.

She nodded as she threw the dying bud and stepped on it—It will be the only one about me, he's happy and in love with Arielle.

That's the one thought she kept on loop as she walked back in, going to the kitchen and pouring herself a shot of the studio's brand of tequila. She fucking needed it.

Ella was startled when she left the shot glass with a thud on the kitchen counter and Matt had seen her swallow the gulp of alcohol, "Oi!" He'd exclaimed, "We starting the party early today?" The clock showed a pitiful 12:23pm which made her sigh heavily—it was gonna be such a long day for her.

"Be my guest." Her voice didn't sound inviting at all as she poured a shot for her friend.

Matt frowned at her, "Well if you're gonna be the one starting the party, you should come alive a bit. Damn."

"Piss off." She muttered, no energy left at all to deal with Matt's teasing.

He snorted, "You hated the song that much?"

She shook her head, "No. It was... it was good, just–" She started, but she had to bite her tongue not to spill it out to Matt. "When did you record that one? After I was gone?"

He downed the alcohol without much of a reaction to the taste, "Yeah, we made it pretty quickly actually. I think it might be one of the best and fastest songs we've done for this record so far."

Ella hummed, not knowing what to do with that information. She just turned to the sink to wash the glass and then followed Matt back to the recording room.

When she'd walked through the door, it was like no one had realized how much the song had affected her. Alex was sitting in a chair with a guitar in his hand, next to James and Nick who were also in their own chairs but in front of the massive mixing console.

Their backs were facing her, and she was grateful for that—she was sure her every thought was written all over her face.

She knew she wasn't brave enough to ask Alex about it, to confront him or get any reasoning from him, so she just decided to ignore the whole situation. She had wanted the whole recording period to go smoothly and drama free, but she now knew there was never gonna be a dull moment as long as she was around the band.

Taking a deep breath she reminded herself of her plan of action, just ignore it. And just like that she forced herself to resume sorting through emails, hearing Alex mumbling along a melody he was playing on the guitar.

Isn't it hard to make up your mind

When you're losing and your fuse is fireside?

She heard them celebrate at the sudden composition of the lines, encouraging Alex to go over it again and see if he could come up with anything else. His brain was going a thousand miles per hour, trying to find the perfect words to rhyme for the first part of the verse he was coming up with.

After a few tries he knew which configuration of lines he'd liked better, settling for:

I'm not sure if I should show you what I've found

Has it gone for good, or is it coming back around?

Isn't it hard to make up your mind

When you're losing and your fuse is fireside?

James nodded eagerly, "That's it. That's it mate." he patted Alex's shoulder proudly, "Sounds like a good chorus actually, we can make it one."

Alex and Nick nodded, having worked with James so many times before meant that the band trusted him fully to take out the full potential of whatever they'd come up with.

That's how that day, Ella had gotten back home humming the melody of the song. She dropped her bag on her sofa and ran to her room to call Breana.

She'd told her all about it, trying her hardest not to mess up the order of the lyrics she could remember and asked the model if she was overreacting, to which Bre firmly said no, agreeing that it was something she'd freak out over too.

Breana had helped her settle adding, "He's a musician though, honey, they all do that. Don't be surprised if there's another one there about you."

Ella groaned, "I rather not. I hope Arielle doesn't even notice about this one." She stayed quiet for a few seconds before she whined in dismay, "Why did he have to go and record a song about me when he has a fucking girlfriend?!"

Breana giggled on the other side, "'Cause he's a man, babe."

Ella sighed, "Fucks sake."

"He could've been more discreet though, don't you think?" Bre added, amused. "He literally has your name in the title of it."

Ella whined like she was in pain, "Why are you making it worse?"

A hard laugh was what she got as a response, "And there's also some of Arielle's name there but that's purely to fool everyone."

Ella rubbed her temples, tired. "I just hope they scrap it from the final record, they told me they had recorded some more songs in London back then along with 'R U Mine?' and 'Electricity' so I'm crossing my fingers they do the same for this one."

"Hopefully, yeah." Her best friend agreed, "Just, don't lose your mind about this okay? If there's any trouble with his girlfriend, it's all his fault."

"I will try my hardest. The worst part is that the song is good..." She was truly in dismay but then she heard the muffled sound of Breana's doorbell through the phone and she laughed, knowing exactly who that was meant to be, "Right, have a fun night hun."

Bre giggled, the sound filled with joy, "I will. Love you! Bye!"

"Love you too, bye!"

The line died, and Ella sighed. What had she done in her past life to deserve this? She was so stressed about the whole thing, she was close to start pulling her hair out.

But then her phone rang and when she saw it was her boyfriend, she felt like she could escape the situation for a bit. Hearing Julian's voice was a breath of fresh air, and him telling her he was coming over was like everything had lifted off her shoulders.

What would she do without him?

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Julian having four days free to spend with Ella was the cure to it all. The next few days at the studio had gone by like a breeze when she knew she would be coming back home to him.

But the day she'd come back home from the studio to kiss him goodbye, since he was leaving for a week to work in San Francisco, it had all gone to shit.

Every bit of calmness that Julian had given her after the 'Arabella' situation was thrown out the window when none other than Arielle called her in despair.

"Hi Arielle! How are you?" Ella had asked her in a chipper tone but her whole face fell when she heard the model sniffling on the other side of the call.

"Hi Ellie, not that well to be completely honest."

Ella was completely confused, she wasn't close enough to Arielle to receive a phone call from her during a low moment but that didn't mean she wasn't going to be kind to her and help in any way if she could. "I'm so sorry, is everything okay? Anything I can do for you?"

"I was wondering if you knew anything–" Arielle started but her voice broke and Ella's heart hurt for her, "I saw you were with the guys at the studio already," She remembered the picture she'd posted the day before of the lads just doing their thing, scattered around in the studio.

Ella had no idea what this all was about but what she didn't expect was the model suddenly asking, "How's Alex?"

Her frown got impossibly deeper after that, "Alex? What do you–"

"We broke up." Arielle was quick to say like the words were burning her tongue, "Well, he broke up with me."

Ella pouted to herself, feeling a wave of sadness for the model but the confusion was still very much there because Alex seemed so okay at the studio. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Arielle. I had no idea. I don't think anyone knows... No one mentioned a thing at the studio."

Arielle covered a sob with her hand, heart breaking a bit more at seeing that apparently he hadn't told a single person about it, Matt had texted her earlier asking her if she was joining them anytime soon and that had been a cruel reminder of what had happened, hence why she had decided to call Ella.

"Right." She replied defeated, "I had hoped he'd told you about it, just so I could get some answers."

"What do you mean?" Ella's confusion grew every time Arielle said something else.

"It's just– He broke up with me out of nowhere, Ella." The model took a deep shaky breath and continued, "Can I tell you something in confidence? It's gonna be TMI but I–"

Ella nodded despite knowing Arielle couldn't see her, "'Course you can, it's okay."

But Ella wasn't prepared for what she would get in return, "I'm so sorry, this is so TMI but I'm just baffled," She started again as if she was giving Ella the chance to take it back but at the silence, she sighed, "The night before, Ella, I swear we had the best sex we'd had in months. He fucked me dumb, telling me how gorgeous I was over and over. He called me darling! He's never used that for me before, I–. Fuck, I'm just going crazy trying to understand this."

Ella was shocked. Not only to have to be hearing this but she truly wouldn't have suspected a thing from Alex's behavior—and she was sure the lads didn't know either because only a few days ago Jamie had made a joke and teased him about the singer's girlfriend to which Alex only had replied with a short chuckle.

She decided to ignore the details Arielle had given her, which weren't many but the fact that Alex had called Arielle darling for the first time in that moment had Ella shifting in her place uncomfortably.

"Arielle, I'm so sorry. I genuinely had no idea, he seemed so normal." She sighed, biting on her thumb. "Jamie mentioned you a few days ago, to tease him and he didn't say a thing. He just laughed and kept doing whatever he was doing."

"It's okay Ellie, I guess I will always wonder what happened..." The model sounded so defeated but she continued telling Ella what had happened that last day, "The next morning he made me breakfast and everything, and in the middle of it he just said he couldn't keep our relationship going. Just like that." A curt chuckle came from Arielle, "He almost said that 'it's not you, it's me' bullshit."

Ella winced, "Oh fuck that..."

Arielle could only hum in agreement and then remembered her poor timing, "Sorry Ella, I probably just interrupted something."

"No, no. Was about to go to bed. Don't you worry Ari, truly." Ella consoled her, "We could go out this weekend? To drink and dance it all away? Julian just left for work and I'll be alone for a week, I'm sure Bre will be down for a girls night." Yes, Alex was her friend but Arielle was one as well so Ella wasn't choosing any sides and if there was anything she could do to help Arielle feel better then she'd do it.

Arielle smiled, silent tears rolling down her cheeks at Ella's kindness. "I would yeah, just send me a text and I'll go wherever."

"Sure. Now go dry those tears hun, he doesn't deserve them."

Arielle giggled, wiping her cheeks. "Thank you, Ellie. Have a goodnight."

"You too Arielle, can't wait to hug you soon. Goodnight."

Fucking hell.

Ella had no idea what the fuck had just happened but she'd decide to ignore it for as long as she could. She needed to relax.

So she rolled a joint, and started smoking out in her backyard. In between puffs, she decided to call Breana and quickly tell her everything, also make sure she was in on going out with Arielle two days from then.

Needless to say, retelling everything had left her even more confused and she ignored the silence on Breana's side when she mentioned his use of the pet name for Arielle. In the back of her mind, Ella knew just what her best friend was thinking but she didn't want to give that another thought.

The next day, Ella had been extra observant, her eyes on Alex at all times and by the end of the day, she was fully intrigued.

She'd bitten her tongue all day, waiting for the perfect moment to bring it up but when they were all leaving and she hadn't had a chance to talk to him alone, she basically baited him into staying a bit longer before they left.

Ella asked him for a cigarette, knowing damn well that would make him stay to have one with her. Two minutes had passed of them smoking as they watched the sun die on the horizon, when she gained the courage to ask.

"How's Arielle? Haven't seen her in a while." In her mind it made more sense to go straight to the point, like ripping a bandaid.

What she hadn't expected is for him to hide behind an inquiry of his own, "How's Julian?"

She chuckled quietly to herself, someone's defensive. "He went to San Francisco yesterday night, he's doing a weeklong shoot over there for some city event." And then she turned to him with an eyebrow raised, challenging him to respond to her question.

Alex barely looked at her then, he was afraid that if he told Ella about his new relationship status while looking her in the eye he might beg with them for her to have him.

"We broke up." His statement was simple, not heartfelt at all—it sounded more like he said it fast to get it over and done with.

"Oh," She muttered, trying to contort her face in the best way so he didn't notice she already knew.

But Alex didn't even turn to look at her, he kept his gaze straight ahead of him and took a long drag of his cigarette.

"I'm sorry." She added, hating the suffocating silence.

The singer only shrugged though, "It's okay, just wasn't right anymore."

Her hum was low and quiet, Ella had no idea what to say. "Are you okay?"

He offered her a half smile, "Yeah, why?"

"I don't know, you just seem so normal. Do the guys know?"

"No, don't tell them." Alex silently begged her, "Matt's gonna try and set me up with someone, or worse he's gonna force me to go out on the pull– I can't be arsed."

Ella giggled, fully convinced Matt would. She offered her pinky finger, and Alex locked it with his—the 'death ramps' ring on her skin once again. "Promise."

When she was done with her cigarette, she discarded it on the ground. They hugged each other goodbye and he watched her as she left on her bike.

He shook his head, now that she knew he had no idea what to do with himself. Especially not when he still felt her pinky finger intertwined with his and his skin craved her at all times.

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Alex had seen Arielle's post that weekend, the three girls with tequila shots in hand and flipping the camera off.

He had no idea how that had happened, if it had been something planned before he'd told Ella about the breakup or if Ella had called Arielle and taken her out because of it. But he didn't care much, as long as they'd had fun then it would be fine by him—he thought it was kind of Ella and Bre to take Arielle out to distract her after everything.

Ella knew Alex had seen it, the look on his face was enough to know but she was glad to see he seemed completely fine about it. Maybe even happy, as the singer asked her subtly if she'd had fun, she nodded with a smile and added "Trying to power through the hangover though."

That day had been quite calm, the lads had focused on giving a few modifications to some of the songs they had been making and putting on a queue to finish later. Of course Ella was recording the whole process, she'd left the camera on the end of the table they were all sitting by so the angle had the camera catching perfectly what they were all doing.

They had gone back to 'Fireside', trying to make the verses work with the melody they'd been creating and she had been watching it all unfold from her usual place on the settee so she managed to catch Matt instantly when he went to disturb the footage she was getting.

"Oi! Matthew!" She called out after the drummer had stuck his face right in front of the lenses of the recording device, "Stop fucking with the footage."

Jamie had cackled loudly as he turned to point at Ella, "You've just said 'oi', you're officially spending too much time with us."

"Only because I'm getting paid for it." Ella joked with a straight face.

"Same here." added James, making Alex laugh beside him.

His chuckles were contagious, making the rest of the room erupt in laughter. Ella loved moments like these, it was just pure bliss for everyone around.

The hours were going by and the guys had reached the point where they had exhausted their brains too much over finding the perfect placements for the verses in the song, so they moved on to talking about random shit.

Ella had gotten a call from Julian in the middle of Matt telling his childhood antics and how he'd fake being ill to skip school, so she excused herself to go outside. It hadn't been a long call, just about ten minutes since it was all her boyfriend had gotten of free time while working.

When she'd gone back to the room, it was all a frenzy. They were arguing so loud, she grimaced at the change of volume compared to the crickets softly building up a choir outside as the night fell.

"What is going on?" She couldn't even make up what it was that they were talking about.

"Ella, how many instruments can you play?" Nick asked quickly.

The question was so sudden, she automatically let out a confused, "Huh?"

The bassist sighed, he wanted to prove a point, "How many instruments can you play?"

"None," She blushed as it was embarrassing to admit in a room full of musicians.

Matt turned fast to the bassist, "See! Told you."

Nick shook his head, "No, c'mon, you gotta at least know one. Even if it's simple."

The PA stayed quiet under their attentive stares, thinking about how she'd only really played one instrument consistently at a point in her life. "Xylophone." She mumbled to herself, somehow that was even more embarrassing to her than saying she didn't know how to play a single instrument.

"What?" Jamie asked since he was the closest to her and not even him had been able to hear correctly.

She raised her volume enough for them to hear her, "The damn xylophone."

Matt had laughed out loud, whereas the rest of the band had smiled amused at her. She rolled her eyes at their reactions, the only one she liked at the moment was James who was smiling at her understanding how annoying they could be.

Nick turned back to Matt and brought their argument back up, "See! At least one."

Matt refused to accept his defeat, "Not agreeing with you until she plays it. She can say she knows but she might not."

Ella sighed exasperated, "Why would I lie dumbass? That'd be even worse. If you find me a glockenspiel then I'll play it for you, dick."

Matt stood up and went to find the percussion instrument not before telling her, "You're on it." as he walked past her.

Five minutes later, she was sitting in front of a coffee table where the thirty note glockenspiel rested. She had two little wooden mallets, one on each hand, and she started getting nervous under the gaze of all the boys.

"I feel like I'm back on fucking eight grade about to perform for father's day, Jesus Christ."

Matt was ready to take the piss out of her so he encouraged her, "Go on then."

She'd rolled her eyes before thinking back to her last few years in middle school and how she'd been assigned band as extracurriculars. She'd chosen the xylophone because she really hadn't want much of a challenge, it was enough that she'd had to be in band to start with.

So Ella hit the first note and after that E note reached her ears, it was like memory had completely taken over. She played 'Für Elise' smoothly and when she was done she flipped Matt off, "Whatever it was, Nick won."

The drummer waved her off like one waves an annoying mosquito, "But everyone knows how to play that song in whichever instrument they know."

She didn't say anything back to him, just grabbed the mallets back up and with a C note she started playing 'Fly Me to the Moon' by Sinatra. Right after she'd finished with the chorus of it, she started playing 'Take On Me' by A-ha and just to shut him up she finished her repertoire with 'Bohemian Rhapsody' by Queen.

Ella remembered the endless days she'd practice that last song until she got it to perfection, her middle school self was really hard on herself—she still remained the same in that aspect.

Everyone but Matt started clapping making Ella blush, "Thank you, thank you." She took a small bow, "I cannot believe I still remember how to play those songs, haven't played since I started high school."

"Well she can actually play an instrument, so your argument is fucked Matt." Concluded Nick with a victorious smirk on his face.

The drummer rolled his eyes and proceeded to stand up, "Whatever, Ella might be able to but I stand my ground."

She was confused but, honestly, she didn't want to bring the whole thing back up so she decided to just stay with the curiosity. "Where'd you get this? So I can put it away." She asked Matt but before he could answer, Alex interrupted.

"Actually, can you help me?"

Ella set the mallets back on the table, "With what?"

"I feel like we should try and make a soft song," He looked for words to describe what he wanted to do, "Like a lullaby of sorts."

Ella slowly nodded, not so sure if she'd be much help but agreeing nonetheless, "Sure, yeah. Just... I never really composed anything so I'm gonna be hitting notes like a dickhead for a while until I manage to find a melody that sounds right."

Alex shrugged, "That's fine. Would you like to go to another room so you can do it in peace?" He subtly nodded towards Matt and Ella chuckled.

"Yes, please."

A few minutes later, Ella and Alex were settled in the keyboard room. She set the glockenspiel on the small table she was sitting in front of and Alex sat beside her with a Gibson J-45 on his lap.

She had no idea what to do first so she laughed embarrassed, hiding her face in her hands. "Alex what do I do?" Her giggles kept going as she felt her cheeks grow hot.

He laughed with her and started playing random chords to distract her, "Whatever you'd like, just go at it and when you play something you like try to write down the notes so you don't forget."

His journal was open then, in front of her with the pen he always used to write resting in the crease of the middle of the open book. The pages were blank and intimidating, she was so nervous for some reason and she didn't want to disappoint him so the pressure was even greater.

But after an hour, Ella found that making music with Alex was truly an easy smooth ride. He'd played different melodies, sometimes along with the random notes she was playing and when they'd fallen on a pattern that sounded beautiful, she gasped.

"No fucking way." She was truly blown away by the fact that she had been able to help in the making of something that sounded actually pretty.

He smiled proudly at her, "That was stunning. You remember the notes?"

She nodded eagerly, grabbing the pen with her right hand to start writing it down as she played it with her left hand slowly.

It was a tiny part, but it was a start and Alex seemed to really like it. Soon, Alex was playing away on the guitar like a door had been opened and the inspiration had just flooded out.

Alex raised his eyebrows expectantly when he was done with all he was coming up with, "That sound good?"

"Beautiful." She confirmed with a beaming grin on her face.

They went over it again and again, Ella timidly adding a few notes here and there which he always smiled and nodded to. She had a good sense of timing where to put them.

Ella listened to him attentively as he played the chorus again, "I think the bass coming on after the second chorus would lift it all up, maybe everyone could come in after it."

He had a thought, "Change it all, maybe to start a bridge..."

Ella nodded excitedly, that sounded great.

They went over it again, he was racking his brain trying to find anything that he wanted to sing about to such a slow-tempo song.

She'd seen times before how he mumbled as he played, trying to find the perfect words that fit the song, and how like that, slowly, the lines came to life.

On this occasion it wasn't different, the chorus being played by him over and over again as he formed sentences. He seemed to have settled for 'Mad sounds, in your ear. Make you get up and dance' and it sounded beautiful.

"What is it about?" She asked as he wrote the lyric in the journal, his handwriting contrasting against hers on the bottom of the page.

"Dunno yet." He stared at the words he'd just written, what did he want to write about?

"Sounds like the start of an ode to music."

His eyes went over the words again, seeing it in that light made sense. Maybe he'd try and make it go in that direction. "You're right, it does."

Ella smiled once again, feeling very much overjoyed at the new experience she'd just gone through. She was sad about the fact that she hadn't caught at least something on camera, having left it in the other room after the battery died earlier.

When they went back to where the rest of the band and James were, sipping on beer bottles as they chatted, her cheeks hurt from smiling. They showed them all what they'd come up with and Alex made sure they heard Ella's idea.

Matt had stood up and crushed Ella in a hug, "That sounds fucking lovely, welcome to the band Ellie." Her giggles filled the room as Matt squeezed her tighter and she tried to get away from him.

"Thanks but I'll leave that to y'all, I'm not a rockstar." Matt let go of her, and ruffled her hair just to annoy her. She shrieked as her hair came all over her face, she poked him in the ribs making him yelp so loud, it got a chesty laugh out of her.

Alex couldn't wipe the smile out of his face, nothing would. Not only had he gotten Ella to be part of this experience but she had enjoyed it, and seeing her genuinely happy was all he wanted. He'd have to get used to not having her with him in the way he wanted, as long as he had her as a friend then that'd have to be enough.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

The days had gone by fast—between songs getting written on and wiped off the whiteboard they had on the room now, demos getting sent and returned, Ross Orton joining James Ford in the production of some of the songs, days they'd stayed well past the time they had planned, spending weekends at different places of the city. The year was going incredibly well so far.

One afternoon of the very last week of January, they had found themselves rather bored and stuck. They had gone to a pub the night before and they'd been absolutely plastered before it was even two in the morning.

Ella vaguely remembered holding Breana's hair back as she heaved in the pub's bathroom from her attempt at taking consecutive shots of tequila.

So they were all wearing sunglasses indoors, the curtains were closed—but it wasn't doing much because they were pretty much see-through—, sitting in the worst positions on the settees.

"Shouldn't we have just taken the day off?" Jamie wondered with a groan, he had drank just enough but having to basically carry Nick out of the pub to the cab and out of the cab and to the hotel was what had exhausted him completely. "Not even James, nor Ross are coming today."

"It was already booked for us, mate." Replied Alex, his head thrown back and resting on the back of the settee.

Ella grimaced as she sat back straighter and reached for her bag, she smiled seeing the ziplock bag she'd brought with her. She didn't even know why she'd thought it would be the best idea to bring them to the studio but if there was a possibility of nursing their hangovers then she'd take it.

"Would these help?" She lifted the plastic bag in the air, it said 'sandwich bag' and it made her chuckle because inside there could be seen five thick spliffs waiting to be smoked.

No one really cared to see what it was. Ten in the morning was too early for them to want to be there, but when she moved the bag around in the air and opened it, the smell of weed hit them so suddenly that they instantly perked up.

Alex straightened up beside her, taking his sunglasses off and squinting to adjust to the light coming from outside. "What the fuck?"

Nick cleared his throat, "Didn't know you smoked."

"Don't be too surprised." She shrugged, getting her lighter and resting the ziplock bag on her lap, "University parties get you started quite easily..." She trailed off trying to figure out how it would work out, "Should we just pass it around or do each of you want your own?"

"Let's pass it around, so we can smoke for longer." Jamie said logically, he'd rather smoke slowly and throughout the day than finish the weed in fifteen minutes and then have to endure the day being sleepy and still hungover.

Ella lit up the first one, taking a long drag of it and relishing in the familiar feeling of the smoke in her throat. She let the smoke out and passed the spliff to Alex, who mirrored her actions.

By the time the second spliff was done, they were chatting about stupid things. They'd gotten hungry and seeing that it was past noon, they all settled in ordering McDonald's—there had been an overall consensus on how it was the best food to have while high.

They had basically smoked the whole day and when they had smoked the last two, consecutively, it was already nighttime. They were all outside stargazing, the blue of the night so piercing that the spheres of plasma contrasted brightly against it and let their presence known to anyone who could catch it.

For some reason she had started going on and on about everything she knew about galaxies, space and celestial objects. Surprisingly, the lads encouraged her to keep going which ended up in all of them agreeing on how, as kids, they thought that by 2013 they'd be driving flying cars and being able to buy lightsabers at the shops—even admitting that they'd thought time traveling would've been a thing already.

That's how they had ended up back in the recording room, completely determined on how they had to make a song about it all. She'd sat beside Alex, reading the things they'd all come up with and nodding like it was the best line ever written. Jamie was playing the guitar and Nick his bass, Matt patting his thighs as he analyzed what his friends were composing.

She wasn't sure what had happened afterwards as she woke up and found herself sleeping on the biggest settee of their usual recording room. Alex was sleeping on the one adjacent and Matt was snoring away on the floor, with a cushion under his head.

Her groan made the two men stir in their slumber. She grabbed her phone that was thrown in a corner of the room and saw that it was five in the morning. Her back was killing her, why the fuck hadn't we just taken a cab home? she wondered as she walked out to the bathroom.

From afar she saw Jamie sleeping peacefully on the settee in the keyboards room and Nick sleeping on the one by the kitchen.

She was grateful she had been way too hungover to actually do her makeup the day before so the smudge of her mascara was very minimal and she got rid of it easily by washing her face.

Once she was done, she went to the kitchen to make some coffee for everyone. She was drinking a glass of water when Nick's voice startled her.

"Good morning, why the fuck did we sleep here?" Since he'd just woken up, his voice was so much deeper than usual and it actually surprised her.

"I have no idea, I don't even remember at what time we fell asleep."

Nick sighed, rubbing his eyes and stood up slowly. "What time is it?"

"Like five twenty" She cringed, it was still dark out but the birds could be heard singing softly.

The bassist cussed and left to use the toilet. She poured herself and Nick a cup of coffee, it was piping hot as it had just been made in the coffee maker the studio had.

It took about half an hour for everyone to wake up, Matt being the last and the one who complained the most.

"Why would yous let me sleep on the fucking floor?" He said through his teeth, making an appearance in the kitchen.

Jamie scoffed, "I tried to get you on one of the settees but you ran back to the main room saying you had to add something to the song."

Ella remembered then that they had all made a song, "Oh my god... We made a song, didn't we?" They all nodded, sipping on their coffees. "Fuck, I don't even know if I wanna listen to it."

But as soon as they finished with their drinks and they had washed and dried it all, they went to the recording room to hear the demo. The bass was prominent in it, and the guitars complimented it perfectly. Alex's voice was slurred and it made them all laugh, but they quieted down at the guitar solo by the end of the recording.

"The guitars are fucking sick in this one." Ella said in appreciation, she was not expecting something actually that good when they had all been in the worst state.

Nick agreed, looping it back to hear the guitar solo once more. "Has b-side potential, to be fair."

They played it once more, hearing the lyrics more closely this time.

It's two thousand and thirteen all across the galaxy

It's two thousand and thirteen

So, baby, take a walk with me

Past flying cars and time machines

There's magic like you won't believe

Ella let the song reach its end to comment, "We are aware that the galaxy is far older, right? Like..." She paused to clear her dry throat, "It was only Jesus who was supposedly born two thousand and thirteen years ago, not the galaxy..."

Matt let out a loud sigh, "Ellie, we're not high anymore so stop nerding out."

"That's just common knowledge–" She argued.

"Ella." He replied sternly.

"Matthew J Helders the third," She said back in the same tone. "Shut. Up."

"Yes Matt, fuck off." Nick sided with Ella and Jamie repeated the same phrase to support the motion.

The drummer scoffed, "Why am I being bullied right now?"

"Because you deserve it." Alex replied this time.

Matt frowned, "I do not."

"I still remember you slandering Bre's favorite Fleetwood Mac record so if you want to keep your stunning girlfriend then shut up."

That had been the only reason why Matt stood quiet for a good ten seconds, and then he told her. "I can't stand you."

Ella gave him a cynical smile, "The feeling is mutual."

Jamie cackled at them, "You two are like fucking siblings arguing, I swear."

Before they could continue bickering though, they heard the front door being opened and closed and by the time they went out to see who it was, they were greeted by the sight of David coming in.

"Good morning everyone," Dave greeted with a smile on his face. "Was coming to check on you, how are you feeling? Slept well?"

Alex nodded, "Yeah mate, thanks very much."

"I tried to get you all a ride home but you all agreed on staying so..." The bearded man added and they all nodded.

"Thank you for letting us stay, man." Matt patted his back in gratitude. "We're just gonna go pick everything up and then we'll leave."

They didn't have the studio booked for the next few days so they gathered all of their stuff up and tidied the rest of the things they had used. They left the place as the sun rose up, Ella waved them off as she took the opposite direction to where they were going. Alex saw the sun hitting the little mirrorball hanging from her rearview mirror, making the light reflect all over the inside of her car.

"Love you guys! Bye!" She yelled out her rolled down window, disappearing into the highway.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

Things had been going normal. After those three days they'd had in a sense of a small break, they had gone back to the studio with fresh ideas and the energy buzzed in the room whenever they were all together.

Ella had been more and more invested in the whole process, sometimes asking each of the guys what different things did or how they managed to get an instrument to sound the way it did in their demos. James had gotten used to having Ella beside him in the days Ross wasn't at the studio.

She was usually there first, smoking away as she waited for them, greeting whoever arrived first with a lovely smile and her arms open and ready for a hug.

That's why at the start of the second week of February, Alex had been incredibly confused at not seeing her already there when he got to Rancho de la Luna at eight in the morning.

He greeted David, asking him if Ella was already inside and when he shook his head, the singer's confusion grew. Maybe she'll be late today, he'd told himself so he didn't worry but just in case, he'd left her a text.

(11/02/2013 08:13) Hi Ellie, good morning. Around what time are you coming today? Was surprised to not see you when I got here xx

Slowly, everyone started coming in and when James got to the studio at around ten in the morning, that's when Alex started worrying even more. They hadn't seen her as she usually didn't go to the studio on the weekends like them, where is she? She wasn't one to just miss a work day or be late and not say anything.

Around noon, Matt had gotten a call from Breana—who was currently out in New York for a modeling gig—and Alex would've teased him about how they truly couldn't live without the other if it wasn't for Matt's worried facial expression.

The call was rather quick and all of his replies were meek, it was strange for him to talk like that with Bre so he started to wonder if they had fought or something, but then Matt had told her "Alright, I love you" with a loopy grin on his face before he hung up that had Alex discarding the thought.

Everyone was looking at him expectantly because the call seemed to have had a negative effect on his mood and they wanted to know if everything was alright.

Matt sighed, "Ellie's not gonna make it today, maybe not even the rest of the week." Alex's heart sank at the thought of something having happened to her that could keep her from going to the studio. "She's not feeling very well apparently."

Alex felt his whole body grow cold and it was an instant reaction for him to pick up his phone and leave the room to call her.

He dialed her number over and over for about ten times but none were answered, so he went back to texting her in hopes that it was just that she was ill and had fallen asleep.

(11/02/2013 12:06) Ellie, is everything okay? Bre's just called saying you weren't feeling good and that you'll be missing the next few days here. Just let me know when you see this that you're fine xx

(11/02/2013 12:07) Did you catch a cold? I'll come over with some soup for you, I promise I make the best chicken noodle soup (either it is good or my mum lied) xx

(11/02/2013 12:08) You're probably asleep and I'm being an absolute knob making your phone ring over and over. I'll stop now but just let me know what's going on. Sending you loads of hugs xxxx

The more Alex stared at the clock, the slower time went by. He was too distracted to care about what was going on in the recording room, everyone having to bring him back to reality every five minutes.

By the time it was one thirty in the afternoon, he hadn't been able to take it any longer so he excused himself and ran outside to call Breana. He didn't even care if he'd be interrupting her photoshoot by calling her over and over, he had to know if Ella was okay.

When he rang her for the fifth time, he got his call answered. "Jesus Christ, Alex, is everything alright?"

He was so relieved the model finally picked up, "Yes. Everything's good. Just... Ella. What happened to Ella? Is she okay?"

Breana felt silent, only the shutter of the camera and the clicking of heels on the floor was heard for a few seconds, "Erm, yes. She's just not feeling well."

"Did she get ill? I've been trying to call her and she won't answer." His voice was laced with worry and that wasn't missed by Bre.

Silence again, "Yes..." Bre replied but it sounded like a question and that's when Alex knew she was full of shit.

"Bre, what happened? Is she okay?" His voice got firmer, he didn't understand why she'd be keeping quiet about anything happening to her best friend.

She sighed, "Alex, she's not feeling well and that's all that I can tell you. I promised her I wouldn't say anything else."

"So something did happen," The singer insisted, "Bre, at least let me know her address so I can go check up on her."

"Alex–" The model started in protest but he was quick to interrupt her.

"Bre, you're far away and not coming back until next week. At least let me be the one to check up on her. I just wanna know if she's okay." He heard her sigh and when the line stood silent he continued, "I don't care if she's just ill and you probably think I'm overreacting, I'd rather do that and find out she's okay than brush it off and find out afterwards that something worst has happened and she's been alone."

"Fucking hell, Alex," Breana cursed, giving into his point. "I'll send you it in a text, but just... let me know how she's doing when you get there okay? And hug her tightly for me, please."

He felt like he could finally breathe, "'Course. Cheers, Bre."

It was only seconds after hanging up that Breana sent him Ella's address through text. His hands were sweaty as he went back inside and told the lads he'd be leaving for the day. He didn't even give them time to ask why, because he was out the door as soon as he'd finished his sentence.

Ella's home was only an hour away from the studio but traffic had held him back forty minutes, he'd been fidgeting in his seat all the way to her medium sized one floor house which was painted a gorgeous light green color.

Alex was quick to park his rental-car on her driveway which only had her car present, he figured she had her bike inside her garage. Without missing a beat, he got out of the car and with long fast strides reached her white door and knocked on it.

A long minute went by and no one was opening the door, he knocked harder and rang the doorbell before knocking furiously again. He heard shuffling behind the door and he was relieved but when the door opened, he felt every bit of worry fall over him like a ton of bricks.

Ella was still in her pajamas—a big gray shirt almost covering her red flannel shorts—, her eyes were puffy and just as red as her nose, her hair was a mess in tangles on a bun atop of her head and she had a glass half full on her right hand.

The last person she'd expected was the singer to be standing outside her door, "Alex, what are you doing here?" She was so tired of everything, she just wanted to be alone and wallowing in self pity not having to worry about how she looked and how she was dealing with the shit show that had just unfolded in her life.

"Hey Ellie," His voice was so soft, she was surprised at how just hearing him had felt like a hug. "Are you okay?" He asked, very much worried but not really knowing what to do.

"How did you even find my address? Did Ben or Aaron give you it, I'll kill them." She ranted, on the brink of exploding in anger. Her emotions were a mess, she was a mess, she had no idea what the fuck to do anymore. Nothing made sense to her anymore.

"No, no, I had to beg Bre for it, but what's wrong?" He wanted to know why she looked so broken or, if anything, he just wanted to comfort her. "What are you even drinking?" He took a step towards her and into her house and she stepped back but with the sigh she'd let out, the alcohol in her breath hit him. "Ellie, it's only three in the afternoon."

She laughed, without a hint of humor, "Alex, I truly rather be drunk right now. I do not fucking care what time it is."

He shook his head, watching her leave so he closed the door behind him and followed her steps. "No, absolutely not." He stated and tried to get the glass from her.

"Yes Alex," She downed what was left on the glass before he could get to her, wincing at the whiskey burning her throat. "I've run out of cigarettes, have no weed, I look too crazy to even bother going out to get shit and all I have is whiskey and a few bottles of wine." She used her fingers to count all the misfortunes that had come after the blow she'd taken the night before.

She turned to the whiskey bottle and poured herself another glass, way too full, but it was what she needed. She took a gulp of it and whispered a curse after it struggled to go down her throat.

"Ella, you're gonna have to stop right now." His words were firm, he was trying to be patient but he didn't want her drinking her problems away.

She rolled her eyes, setting the glass down harshly so the alcohol splashed around it. "Alex– I truly don't need you to be logical right now." She took a deep shaky breath and continued, "Just leave okay? You've seen I'm alive. I'm just not feeling good so just go, you have shit to do much more important than me and my fucking mess of a life." The way her voice broke saying that last sentence had him frowning deeper, he wanted to do something, anything to stop feeling the hurt she clearly was was feeling.

"What's wrong, darling? Talk to me." Alex hadn't called her that in a long time, not after he'd caught his mistake in doing that after that call at the Olympics opening ceremony, but he just couldn't help it. He'd tried to reach for her hand but she'd flinched away at the pet name.

It had made her wince, thinking back to what Arielle had told her the month prior about how Alex had called her that as he'd fucked her dumb. She felt so fucking pathetic, so far from special. Am I the problem? She had wondered that all night, as she cried herself to sleep.

She was tired of crying but she couldn't stop it. She was tired of people making her cry, making her believe that she wasn't worthy of anything.

She slowly turned around, sighing heavily before admitting, "He fucking cheated, Al."

Alex felt a blow to his chest, "What?"

Ella's tears cascaded down automatically, breaking his heart in a million little pieces for her. "He's fucking cheated on me, I–" She started but she had to stop as a sob ripped through her. "And you wanna know how I found out? Because his parents caught him in a lie. He told them he'd be going out on dinner with me and when they went to surprise us, they found him with someone else." Her voice raised as she narrated everything, fury in her eyes and the heartbreak making her tremble.

"He fucking admitted to it to them, how he's been seeing this girl for over a month, but when they told him he had to tell me the truth, he fucking refused." A loud scoff came from her, "His mom has had to fucking call me and tell me because this fucking cunt didn't have the balls to say it." She was so baffled, sobbing in disbelief.

Why does it always happen to me? She'd asked herself so many times, she had given up on an answer.

She sniffled, wiping her nose, "So now I've had to break up with him over the fucking phone because I know I wouldn't have been able to do it in person."

Alex walked slowly to get closer to her, not wanting to startle her. "Ellie I'm–" His words were cut by Ella's words of desperation.

"I fucking wanted to marry him Alex! I thought he was it for me!" Pure agony was what was filling every inch of her body and soul. "We had started trying for a baby." She broke down in loud sobs that made her hiccup as she tried to get oxygen back in her lungs.

Alex had no idea what to say to that, he wanted to do nothing more than to murder Julian after torturing him in the most sadistic ways. But she was his priority, making her feel better was what he had to do. He was quick to envelope her in a tight hug, she cried harder hidden in his chest as she fisted his maroon shirt.

Her tears bleed through his shirt and it felt like her heartache was burning his skin. "I just want this hurt gone, I feel like my chest is caving in, Al. I want it gone. Please." Ella begged and her body trembled in his arms. In that moment, all he could think was how he'd do anything to be able to take away the pain from her—he'd carry all of her burdens if it meant she'd be eternally happy, like she deserved.

His left hand was rubbing up and down her back, his right hand holding her head to his chest. He softly shushed her trying to calm her down in the slightest, he had never been good at consoling crying women, but for Ella he'd try and excel at anything she needed from him. "It's gonna be alright Ellie, I promise. You are gonna be okay."

Alex had her walk to the settee with him, she just let him guide her as her cries did nothing but increase.

Pathetic, pitiful, worthless, meaningless, replaceable.

That's all she felt about herself and she hated it, with a deep burning passion.

Alex sat down with her and she scooted onto his side, needing the warmth of his touch around her. She needed someone even if she didn't want to admit it and Alex was determined on keeping his hold on her for as long as she wanted it to.

His fingers started scratching her head, making her relax in her arms. Her sobs started to quiet down after five minutes and her breath slowed down.

"I'm here okay? I'm not leaving." He assured her, looking down at her still shielding on his chest.

She nodded, and she whined softly at the waves of memories coming back to her trying to push her back into a breakdown.

It had been like that since she'd gotten the phone call the night before, she would cry for hours and eventually calm down finding some sleep which was interrupted by the situation being reflected in her dreams, making her start sobbing all over again. She'd only gotten a total of three hours of sleep the night before.

A thought flashed through her head, making her break the hug as her skin crawled in disgust for herself. "I hate this so much," She muttered, recoiling to the corner of the settee, the furthest she could from Alex. "I'm gonna have to go and get tested now, not only for pregnancy but for everything else 'cause I don't even know who he's been fucking. I feel so disgusting."

The singer scooted closer to her, rubbing her arms which were hugging her folded legs closely to her chest.

"He's an absolute prick. I'm so sorry, Ellie. I really truly am." His honesty was so clear but she couldn't take it.

She started crying again, shaking her head. "You have nothing to apologize for. He should be."

That made Alex scowl, "Did he not?"

Ella chuckled entirely unamused at the memory of her phone call to him that had happened earlier that day. "He did, over and over but it just made me sick. He said it so many times it started sounding weird. He didn't mean it at all. He's only sorry for himself, that he got caught."

"I want to kill him." Alex said simply.

Her face contorted in pity for herself, because she still felt how much she loved him. "I want this to be a sick and twisted joke." Her chin wobbled, and he knew exactly what it meant.

Of course she still loved him. That's the type of person she was, always a giver. And she never half assed anything so when she loved, she loved in the very best way: passionately and endlessly. He knew that from the way she talked about her family, her friends, her hobbies, her job.

She threw herself in his arms again and sobbed away, none of them noticing how she was basically straddling his lap and how her breasts were pressed against his chest. Her face was buried on his neck and his arms wrapped around her again, the same way they had been doing before. He could feel the erratic thumping of her heart on the other side of his.

It had been an hour that it had taken Ella to exhaust herself to sleep. When her breathing slowed down and he heard one of her soft snores in his ear, he felt relief flooding his system. He knew then that hated seeing her cry, he hated seeing her in despair, sleep deprived—her dark circles were prominent when she'd opened the door and the sunlight hit her face—, relying on alcohol to drown her sorrows.

She deserved so much better.

He stood up from the sofa with her still in his arms, slowly to not wake her up but not even if he had been more careless could she have startled awake. She was in a deep sleep, having found comfort after long hours of misery.

He set her down on her bed, which was still unmade but not that messy which confirmed to him that she hadn't slept well at all the previous night. The covers were soon over her and all the way up to her chin, she'd let out a sound of satisfaction as she snuggled her pillows.

Alex decided to kick his shoes off and sit beside her, watching her peacefully sleep. Sometimes she'd flinch and start crying, hot tears falling from her closed eyes and wetting the pillow under her head. He'd rub her back, whispering 'you're okay, you're okay' until she settled back down, but it hurt him having to see her like that in the first place.

He felt so helpless.

After about three hours, seeing that she was in deep slumber, he thought it would be good for him to get some food. She had definitely not eaten at all that day so she'd be hungry when she woke up. He slowly put his shoes on and exited her house, grabbing her house keys and writing a little note before leaving.

Alex let himself smile fondly at the Tennessee keychain she had, a little silver cowboy boot it was and it reminded him of her mirrorball.

He had seen a few restaurants about ten minutes from her house so he settled for proximity rather than finding a restaurant he knew was good. The thing he least wanted was for her to wake up and see him gone, even if he had left a note.

The singer had decided to get some films from the redbox rental her neighborhood Walgreens had, wanting her to get distracted and enjoy herself for a little.

Despite him rushing to get back as soon as possible, and getting annoyed at himself for taking much longer than anticipated, when he got back she was still asleep. But it was eight in the evening then, so he had to wake her up to have her eat.

He dropped everything he'd gotten slowly on her kitchen counter and he walked carefully into her room. The bed dipping beside her had her stirring, so he felt less bad when he started brushing her hair back and softly whispered her name to have her wake up.

She'd hummed in response to hearing her name being called and he grinned at her pout, she was so effortlessly breathtaking—it was beyond his understanding.

"C'mon darling, I brought you some food." He finally said and she mumbled gibberish in response, "There's ice cream too and some films."

Her eyes slowly peeled open, her pout was replaced by a frown because she didn't remember much of how the hell Alex had ended up in her house.

Regardless, she rubbed her eyes awake and yawned. Slowly but surely she got up and threaded to the bathroom to freshen up, Alex told her he'd be serving their food in the kitchen and to join him when she was ready.

Twenty minutes later, she was out of the bathroom. Freshly showered, with her hair damp and wetting the back of her shirt. She'd changed her pjs for a 'Queens of the Stone Age' big shirt and some joggers.

Alex wanted to coo, seeing her hugging herself as she walked to the living room where he had set everything up. Italian food—her favorite—, a few bottles of Mexican coke he'd found in a bodega next to Walgreens, and 'Sherlock Holmes' ready to play on her TV.

Ella felt a knot tightening up in her throat, she was sure what she'd needed was to be miserable by herself until she'd cried all of her tears but seeing him there, sitting in her living room after having brought her food and shit that would make her feel better with the sweetest smile on his face, reminded her that she needed someone to help her during tough times.

Her pout grew on her face, and Alex was quick to stop her from getting herself worked out over nothing. "Hey, Ellie. It's okay, c'mere." She nodded and walked towards him, tears slowly filling her eyes and threatening to spill. He turned to her once she was sitting beside him and brushed his thumbs on the apples of her cheeks, "Don't cry okay? Let's watch a film and eat well so we can have a good sleep tonight, yeah?"

A tear slipped down and he was quick to wipe it, he pressed a kiss on her forehead to then turn and grab her plate for her. "Here," He handed her the plate, "Spinach ravioli bolognese, your favorite."

A pathetic little chuckle fell from her lips as she received the dish, it indeed was her favorite. "Oh, you remember."

He watched her as she placed the plate on her lap, sitting straight next to him. "Of course I do. I remember loads of things," But it wasn't about that in this situation, so he got her excited for the movie. "Have you seen this one? People say it's great."

Ella had been sure she wasn't hungry but at the smell of her favorite food reaching her nose, her stomach growled. She blushed, shaking her head at Alex's question, "I haven't, no."

Alex smiled at her, and pressed play but as the opening credits rolled, he pushed her softly to start eating. "I wanna know if you like it, try a little bit."

"Well, how different can it be from any other place? I'm sure it's good." Ella replied as she stirred some of the sauce around with her fork.

"Just a bite," He negotiated, "For me?"

The pout on his face seemed to twist her arm, she gave him a tight lip smile before she shoved a bite into her mouth. Her smile got bigger then, as she savored the food. "It's really good," He smiled, pleased to see that she liked it. "Thank you, Al."

He nodded before grabbing his own plate and they both ate slowly as the film played. It had gotten her giggling and quietly gasping at different moments, which made his heart swell inside of him. When the end credits rolled, he asked her if she'd liked it to which she gave him an excited nod of her head. She was smiling, small grins, but it was what he wanted to get from her.

Alex took the dishes to wash them and Ella followed after him with the empty coke bottles and complained about him doing the dishes in her house. He just stared at her right in the eyes as he quickly washed what they'd used and his smirk got bigger the more she complained.

"You're annoying." Ella simply stated when he was done.

Alex chuckled and walked over to her fridge, "Would some ice cream help you forgive me for being annoying?"

"Maybe..."

She took out two small bowls and two spoons, pointing him to where she had her ice cream scooper and thanked him when he filled her bowl with three big servings of the sweet dessert.

They went back to her living room, to play the next one. He'd changed the discs quickly in her DVD player and played the new movie in record time, "I've actually seen this one already, pretty good. You'll like it."

She saw Ryan Gosling on the cover of the DVD case and nodded, "Give me anything Ryan Gosling and I'll love it."

He laughed, and nodded, "Brilliant." and turned to watch the screen just as 'Drive' showed on the screen.

About thirty minutes into the movie, Alex's phone started going off so he excused himself to go outside and pick it up.

It was Breana, who had been texting him over and over because he hadn't given her an update on Ella like he'd promised. He cursed under his breath and closed the door behind him. He'd told Ella to keep watching but she was honestly just trying to please him by watching it with him. She'd been lost in her thoughts all through the start of it, seeing the main characters subtly flirt with one another had made her tragedies catch up to her again and made her silently crumble.

She'd left two of her windows open since the morning, when she'd been smoking her sorrows away until she ran out, so she could hear what Alex was saying.

"Hi, I'm so sorry," She knew he'd lit up a cigarette because she could smell the burning tobacco making its way inside her house. "Got caught up with everything and forgot about my phone." She heard nothing but silence for a few seconds until he started debriefing, "She's okay. I had her sleep for a few hours and got her food, we've been eating and watching some films." She was so confused as to who he was talking to but then he mentioned a name that had her in the brink of tears again. "Bre, I–. Yes, she was crying a lot but she's stopped for now." She wanted nothing more than for her best friend to be there but, alas, Ella's life seemed to be highlighted by always having the worst timing. "If she lets me then yes, I don't want her to be alone while she's going through this. Much less if there's a slight possibility of that cunt coming to bother her."

It didn't sound like jealousy in his voice, just plain anger at what Julian had done to her and in that moment she realized that maybe Alex and her were meant to be friends. Despite the direction things had taken when they'd first met, maybe they were meant to have a strong friendship so they could be there for each other, have each other's backs.

Ella realized how good it felt to have him there with her, because he understood her in a way that only a few people did and he made her feel calm. She needed that.

His voice could be heard further away as she went to her kitchen after pausing the movie and saw the other things that Alex had bought for her: two little bags of gummies, a dark chocolate bar, another Mexican coke, and a pack of Marlboro reds.

He was a life saver, truly.

She opened the pack and grabbed a cigarette, placed it on her mouth and, after closing her windows down, she joined him outside.

He'd gotten scared by the sudden movement at the door behind him, she laughed as she came to stand beside him and he lit her cigarette up at her silent question for it.

"Thank you." She muttered and he smiled in response.

Alex nodded and hummed at whatever Breana was saying, "Yes, Bre, I know and I won't. You have my word." A cloud of smoke left his lips when he chuckled, "I'll text you later, bye."

Ella watched through the corner of her eye as he hung up and placed his phone in the back pocket of his jeans.

"Thought I told you to keep watching without me." His gaze came over her, watching her relish in the bad habit they both had.

"You did, but I needed a breather." Ella admitted.

Alex nodded and they both fell to their tangled thoughts. She was lost trying to find answers to the one question echoing the most in her head, why? And he was stuck thinking about what he could do to switch her hurt for brief moments of joy.

"Are you feeling better?"

It took her a minute to answer, her eyes lost in the sky and the sight of the moon. So beautiful and unbothered, shining over every single person on Earth so effortlessly.

"It's a weird thing, honestly. I feel just... numb. Like I'm in shock and don't even know if what's happened is real but then I suddenly feel it all coming over me like I'm getting swallowed by fire and I'm burning alive, but somehow the emptiness I feel in my chest overpowers it all." Word vomit, that's what it had been and she shook her head at herself. "I'm talking out of my ass, aren't I?" Pathetic.

But when Alex instantly shook his head, she felt relieved. "No, you're not. He deserves hell, Ellie, not you. And he surely doesn't deserve your tears or your heartache." He threw the last of his cigarette on the floor and took two steps to be right beside her. He threw his arm around her shoulders and let it fall until he could hug her tightly to his side.

She let her head fall on his shoulder, "I've begged for hours that this is a nightmare but I've pinched myself enough times to know I'm unfortunately awake."

"I'm sorry, Ellie." He kissed the top of her head, and then rested his cheek on it. "But I know you, and I know you're gonna be okay. The shadow of his actions that's following you right now will wither away in time, but it will haunt him till the end of his days."

Tears had started falling again but this time in frustration when she explained, "I hate that my brain wants him to suffer but my heart is begging to spare him some mercy."

"Your heart will catch up, just be patient with it."

He was so good at just saying things like that, it blew her away really. "God, you're so poetic. No wonder you ended up a musician." She felt his chest tremble as he laughed, the cold breeze was a nice contrast to the warmth she felt by being held by Alex. "Thank you, by the way."

That had him lifting his head to look down at her, "What for?"

Ella was still pressed to his side but she tilted her head back slightly to look up at him. "The food, the movies, the candy, the cigarettes, letting me ruin your shirt with my tears, letting me ruin your day with my tragedies, begging Bre for my address, spending the day with me..." She was glad he was there, she was glad to have him. "You're a true friend, Alex Turner."

It hurt, 'friend', but he promised himself that that'd have to be enough for him so it would. He gave her the sweetest smile, "No need to thank me darling, I will always be here for you. No matter what." And he meant that—even if he was on the other side of the world, he was determined to always be there for her. "And you didn't ruin my day, if anything you saved me from Matt being insufferable since Bre is in New York."

She giggled, wiping her tears with her right hand. "Ugh, yeah. He must be unbearable."

Ella decided she was done with her cigarette, so she flicked it and watched it die in the ground of her driveway a couple of feet from her and Alex. She brought her arm to circle around Alex's waist and squeezed him softly, "Let's go back inside."

Alex nodded and dropped his arm from around her, Ella started walking ahead of him back to the front door but stopped in her steps when Alex spun her around by her wrist and crushed her in a hug.

"That one's from Bre," The singer said in her ear, "Forgot to deliver it until now, sorry."

She melted in laughter in his hold. He was such an idiot and she was so damn grateful he'd pestered Bre into giving him her address because she truly didn't know what it would've been of her if she'd spent the day completely alone.

They went back inside and finished the film, which ended up being really good and she'd be sure it would be one she'd watch more times in the future. It wasn't too late, barely midnight but she was falling asleep slowly, the exhaustion catching up to her.

Her yawn made him turn to her, he was gonna have her go to bed and then leave but she offered him to stay before she could even stand up from the settee.

Alex accepted, of course. If Ella hadn't offered, he knew he'd go back to the hotel and then be at her door in the morning to make sure she was alright.

She showed him the guest room and reminded him of where the bathroom was. She'd offered him clothes for him to sleep in but he kindly turned them down as he was fine just sleeping in his underwear.

He had managed to get some sleep for a few hours when he was suddenly woken up by her sobs at three in the morning. He wasn't sure what the noise was at first, too sleep drunk to grasp any logic but when he realized it was her crying, his heart broke.

Alex debated within himself if it would be good to just go and get her to calm down or if he should just let her cry it out but when he heard silence and then another heart ripping sob, he got up and walked to her room.

He knocked softly on her door twice before opening the door, his heart broke seeing her against her headboard hugging her legs. The brightness coming from her phone screen was the only thing keeping the room from being absolutely pitch black.

She saw him blurry through the tears, his hair ruffled and his clothes on his body messily. He hadn't had time to properly button his shirt up, too busy trying to check on her as soon as he could to put every button in its correct place.

"Ellie..." Alex cooed, approaching her as she sniffled, trying to calm herself down.

The second he reached her bed and sat beside her, he saw exactly what she'd been doing. She'd been looking at pictures of her and Julian, not the ones that she'd post but the random domestic ones like the one currently frozen in time on her phone. She looked to have been doing her makeup when he interrupted with a hug, their smiles so big on their faces it made her shiver—it felt like those two people in the picture were making fun of her.

Alex locked her phone and in a quick motion hugged her to his chest.Ella broke down all over again, clutching him like it was the only way she'd hold onto reality and not lose her mind altogether.

"Let's not do that, alright?" He suggested, rubbing her back.

She trembled under his touch from the force and continuity of her sobs, it had been such a stupid idea to go through her phone before going to sleep. Her nod was so small that he'd missed it but he continued on consoling her, pressing kisses to her head and talking in her ear.

"You're okay. He's a fucking idiot. He doesn't deserve your tears. He didn't and doesn't deserve you."

There was sweet conviction laced in his words, somehow Alex telling her helped more than if she tried to tell herself. It resonated more, it echoed louder inside her mind.

"I just don't understand it." Ella hated having to bring it all up again, but when it was all silence around her was when the questions would hunt her down. "A fucking month, he's been fucking someone else and sneaking off while I've been here like a love struck puppy stupidly waiting for him to come back. I feel so used and so stupid."

He lifted his head from where it had been resting on top of hers, so that she'd look at him. It was so dark but he could clearly see the soft sparkle of her eyes. "You're not stupid, Ella. You're the smartest one of us all."

She bit her lip trying not to cry again, chin wobbling at her naivety. "I'm clearly not. I didn't see it happening right in front of my eyes. Fuck knows if she was the only one." She let her head fall back, pressed against her headboard while she stared at the ceiling. The ceiling was the only part of her room she could see that didn't spark memories. "He's everywhere I look, Alex. Every inch of my house is tarnished with him and it's making me feel sick."

Her breath faltered, tears rolling down the corner of her eyes and falling down her temples. She'd started spiraling when she closed her door and suddenly her eyes seemed to only fall on bits that reminded of him. And she had tried her hardest to ignore it, to just think of anything else and let it pass but her heart ached to look back at every moment they'd spent together and she'd been too weak to say no.

Too weak, too naive. Stupid, stupid, stupid. All she felt was stupid.

The more her tears fell on his shoulder, the more Alex could hear her heart tearing apart. "I know, darling. But it will get better."

She straightened up, as her insides filled with anguish. She had no hope left. "I don't see how it can. He was everything. My everything."

He squeezed her tighter and she lifted her head up to rest on his shoulder again. His hand unwavering as it rubbed up and down her arm, warming the coldness in her. How could someone blatantly ruin someone like this? It was so insolent. "I know it's easier said than done, but you'll forget. You'll make new memories to replace the tarnished ones. And with time, the hurt will go and the beauty will remain." Because she seemed to glow so bright when was with Julian and he'd hate to see her dull away.

Ella started crying even more, "How stupid is it that I don't want to let the memories go though? I do this all the fucking time, I cling to every bit I have left of people until I just become numb to losing them one random day. But it's just an endless loop of torture until I get to that point, why can't I just skip this all?" It had only been a day, and she was already exhausted. "I don't even want to be in my own bedroom anymore."

"I know, I know." His hand left her arm to start scratching her head, he smiled slowly when he heard her sigh in content at the feeling. "But think about how this room could easily become your salvation if you ever accidentally let Matt and Breana stay over. And you know how shameless they can be—you'll have to start a new life just in here so you don't accidentally get flashed with Matt's arse. And believe me you really don't. Not a pretty sight at all." That was his awful attempt to lighten her mood up and it seemed to have worked when she snorted and her body shook with laughter.

In between chuckles she managed to respond, "You're an idiot."

Alex hummed a 'no', faux-defensive. "No, Breana is the idiot for going for someone like Matt. Me and you both saw him when we were high in the studio. That line about the galaxy being two thousand years old was definitely him."

"It definitely was." Ella agreed, why would he have gotten so offended by her correction if not.

"Yeah, we're not that stupid." He further backed his point.

But Ella was quick to scoff, "No, not at all Mr. 'Little tiny fruit coming after you'. How high did you get? Rude of you to not share your hallucinogens with me."

He let out a small gasp in fake disbelief, "I've never done such a thing, Miss Hayes."

"I don't believe you. No one writes such a shit song on just weed alone."

"Okay enough of your backchat." Alex argued, but he broke out in laughter at her chosen adjective to the song. "I know it's shit but it's still getting put out, it was a very monumental moment for us. New band member and all."

She moved her head up and tilted it back to look at him with an amused expression, "Yeah, very monumental with your new Glockenspiel player bandmate that doesn't even play a thing in it." The sarcasm making him giggle and the contagious sound had her giggling with him.

After their laughter died back down, Ella felt the ball move back up her throat. And maybe it was the way she held him that little bit tighter which gave her away, but Alex didn't hesitate to pull her the tiniest bit closer and continue to stroke her arm as he asked, "You don't have to stay in here if you don't want to, we can go in the other room?"

She wanted to accept, knowing at least that would make her feel better but the brief feeling of comfort would end up in something worse, "I won't come back in here if I do that... I can't let him take more from me. He's already chewed my heart up, he's not taking anything else."

"Atta girl, see? You're already in the right direction." He could only encourage her. After all, she was going to go about it at her own pace and he'd just be there with her through it.

"I just want the pain to go away. It's not fair." It really wasn't, she couldn't help but think how she was breaking down over and over while Julian could be enjoying his time with whoever it was he'd been seeing. "There's no way he's sobbing at god knows what hour in the morning like I am. How is that fair, Al?"

"It's not, darling." The whole situation infuriated him beyond belief, he wanted to seek revenge for her but not more than he wanted to strip her of the heartbreak. "I wish I could take it all away for you. I really wish I could."

"I just want it all to go away." Ella begged. It was a plea to life, to whoever was up there that thought it was fine to have her go through that.

"It'll pass I promise, and from here it will all just get better and better for you, Ellie. I cross my heart, darling." He'd find a way to pull the strings of the universe if it wasn't soon that it'll all look up for her.

Her hazy mind was able to grasp all that and it was the last thing she remembered before she'd succumbed to slumber, every atom of her being just giving up after the efforts of the past twenty four hours.

She hadn't felt Alex leaving her after he made sure she was truly asleep so she was the tiniest bit disappointed to find herself alone in bed in the morning, without his gentle touch on her to make her feel like all would be alright.

She reprimanded herself, it was just her being greedy at that point—he had been doing more than enough and she shouldn't be asking for more.

Her movements were quiet as she completed her morning routine, trying her best not to wake him up. He'd probably been up most of the night because of her cries, she felt so guilty.

She started making breakfast, finding comfort in the sizzle of the frying eggs and bacon on the pan and the drip of the coffee coming from her Keurig. The toasts were the perfect golden brown and, as she plated everything up for them, she found herself happy over the small victory it was for her to feel even the smallest amount of joy out of cooking a small meal.

Ella decided to move dirty utensils so she could wash them, carefully placing the hot pan in the sink when she saw Alex walking down the hallway and towards the kitchen. He looked to have just come out of the bathroom, she hadn't even heard him leave the guest room in the first place.

She didn't know if it was because of the fact that she was going through the worst heartache of her life, but the sight of him with his hair ruffled and wrinkled clothes shattered her.

Not in a negative way, not that it made her want to drop to the ground and cry, but in the way that she was already mourning the fact that she'd never be able to see him like that ever again. She'd always found him so breathtakingly pretty, but the image was so mundane that it added a layer to his general beauty.

He rubbed his eyes in the most childish way, she almost wanted to scream because of how adorable he looked, "Smells good." was all he said and she grinned like an idiot, filled with gratitude.

She slid the plate towards him on the kitchen counter, "This is the 'thanks for putting up with me yesterday and I'm so sorry for keeping you up all night', kind of like the most popular breakfast on the menu."

He chuckled, looking at the food and then at her. He shook his head with a smile and walked over to hug her, "You don't need to thank me or apologize for any of that. But thank you very much for this, it looks delicious." His arms held her tightly over her shoulders, she hid away on his neck with a smile and her arms around his waist.

They stayed like that for a minute and she tried backing away but he was reluctant to let her go. She pinched his waist and laughed, "It's gonna go cold, Al. Sit down and eat."

Alex left a kiss on her temple before letting go of her and sitting on one of the high chairs to dig into the food.

Ella watched him expectantly as he grabbed some of the food with the fork and placed it on the piece of toast, he lifted it up and took a big bite of it. It was good, really good but he exaggerated his reaction to entertain her.

His moan of satisfaction had her blushing and giving him a bright smile that reached her eyes. "That's really fucking good, Ellie."

She looked down at her own serving of food and timidly said, "Glad you like it."

They continued eating, settled in a comfortable silence and when they finished, he had beat her once again to washing the dishes.

She was leaning on her forearms, by the sink, sipping on her coffee while she watched Alex. The truth is that she wanted to ask for a favor but she was too shy to ask for something else from him. He noticed though, and it was so easy to read on her face that she was dying to say something.

"What's wrong?" His voice was so calm, inviting her to just use her words.

"I, um," Ella rose back up straight, leaving her coffee cup on the kitchen counter. "Could I skip this week at the studio? I would go but I'm sure I won't be the best company while I feel like this."

A sweet smile appeared on Alex's face, "Of course you can. But I have to ask for something in exchange..."

She got the tiniest bit more nervous with that, "Which is?"

"That you let me come over and disrupt your peace every day until you're back."

Ella didn't know what she was expecting but that made her let out a breathy chuckle, "Yeah, sure."

"I could take the camera and record for you as well, so you don't have to tell Ben and Aaron."

"You sure you can work a camera?" She teased, remembering how bad at checking his phone he could be. "A phone is enough of a nightmare for you."

Alex rolled his eyes jokingly, "Yes, I know how to work a camera. How hard can it be?"

She only shook her head, "Okay, I'll get everything ready for you. Are you leaving now?" She checked the time on her microwave and it flashed a 9:25 back at them.

He nodded, drying his hands with one of her kitchen towels. "Just so I can get over with the day as fast as I can and then I'll drive back."

Her eyes froze on his face after he said that. She truly was so glad he was there with her and so willing to stay around. She nodded, and when her gaze fell to his wrinkled and tear stained shirt she frowned.

"I'm gonna lend you a shirt so I can wash yours," She pointed at it, "I ruined it."

"No you didn't. It's fine." The singer spoke back, really not worrying about it but she was quick to shake her head and leave to get a shirt out of her closet.

He followed and when he walked through her door, she was looking through her shirts. "C'mere, choose whichever you'd like. Those are the biggest shirts I have." She waved him over and he complied.

He grabbed the first black shirt he saw and when he unfolded it, he laughed. It read 'Boot, Scoot, Boogie' and it had a pair of cowboy boots beside the big words.

"It's a good country classic, to be fair." She commented with a very amused grin on her face.

Alex lifted the shirt up in the air, "Thanks, Miss Tennessee."

She felt the squeeze in her chest, the last time he'd called her that was when he'd written it in the back of their photobooth pictures—one's that were hidden away in one of her drawers in between pages of her photo albums.

"You're welcome." Ella gave him a tight lip smile, "Now go get ready, before the guys start calling you non-stop"

He waved her off, "Already told them I'd be running late."

He walked into the guest room to gather his things and put them in his pockets, changing his shirt for Ella's and he knew he'd be in the best mood all day because the second the piece of clothing was on, he was drowning in her scent.

Flowers, sweetness and that small hint of tender woods.

He was already drunk on it when he came out, maroon shirt in hand and with a beaming grin on his face.

Ella smiled seeing him with the new shirt, "Suits you well."

"Thank you, darling." Bet it looks better on you. "I'll be back later, alright?"

She nodded, exchanging the shirt in his hand for the camera bag. "You take care of that like a child, Turner."

"I will, I promise." Alex let his arm drop dramatically making it seem like he was gonna drop the bag on the floor causing her to gasp loudly.

He started cackling, her face tinting pink at how easily she'd fallen for his prank. "You dick!"

She pushed him lightly and he started walking towards the front door, "Alright, alright. I'm leaving now." He stopped as she opened the door and right before exiting he opened his arms to hug her.

Ella gracefully walked into them, he wrapped them around her and made them both sway in the embrace. "See you later, Al."

"See you soon, darling." A kiss was left on her temple before he left.

She watched as he carefully placed the bag on the floor of the passenger side and, when he backed out into the road, he waved at her before leaving.

Her chest started feeling heavy again, those hours without Alex there would be hard but she had to power through them.

She remembered his words, 'the hurt will go and the beauty will remain'. She couldn't wait for that day to come.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

A/N: I think that after this you can come to the conclusion that I'm an absolute whore for some angst, I love it so much. Bless Ella though, so sorry girl. Hope you enjoyed this one, shit is getting real now... See you soon with the next one, thank you a billion for reading! xx

Taglist: @imagine-that-100​ @red---moon​ @kennedy-brooke​ @faveficz​ @indierockgirrl​ @ladydraculasthings @moonvr​ @unwantedlovergirl​ @eaglestar31 @nikisfwn​ @funniestpersoninnyc​ @andrearroe​ @justacaliforniandreamer​ @alexturnersgf69​

[ramblingsofamuskrat]

I love some of the parallels between the Doctor Who anniversary and Partners in Crime, even if the there are still strong, contrasting differences between the stories.

Like, the anniversary introduces this other seemingly adorable creature that ends up just wreaking havoc in London. The adipose in Partners in Crime were just babies and deserve no actual blame in what they did, as the Doctor kinda outlines in that episode, but I love how both episodes focus on these cute creatures to reintroduce Donna. Also, not really related to the point, but the transition of the Meep from adorable to pure evil is something that I have been thinking about way too much over the past couple of days...

And the fact that at the end of both episodes, the Doctor and Donna go to see Wilf. Currently not a successful endeavor given the coffee incident in the anniversary, but that was going to be Donna's "one last trip", and before her and the Doctor go on adventures in season 4, they wave to Wilf from the skies and I just love that contrast. Wilf loves seeing Donna happy, and knows how much she loved traveling with the Doctor, and just having that brought back up again in the anniversary was amazing. This obviously makes sense from a storytelling perspective, given Wilf's character throughout the series, but I still like that they wanted to go see him for that adventure again.

On a completely unrelated note, love how soft and sentimental David Tennant was, especially in contrast to Donna's more motherly, yet still very snarky attitude after remembering the Doctor. To some extent, these characters have changed because of what they're going through, but they still work so well together and it really just hits hard. I grew up on Doctor Who, and although it's been a while, to the point where I cannot recall some even major plot points throughout the show, watching it always makes me happy. Seeing David Tennant back as well, and experiencing the amazing dynamic him and Catherine Tate have together was awesome as well and I will definitely continue to fangirl about these episodes a little too much. Also, I freaked out when I first heard Yasmin Finney was going to be in Doctor Who, and I am continuing to do so. It was amazing seeing her my favorite show as a child. I love Heartstopper and seeing the cast appear media I grew up on is very exciting to me. I have so much more to say but genuinely, despite so many questions I have and "what the fuck" moments I had while watching the episode, the first part of the reunion really hit home for me.

[stevie-petey]

I'm so excited for the jug reunion! The jancy drama is a bonus too. And again STUG SLEEPOVER!?!! IN THE SAME BED!?!! LIKE BOYFRIEND GIRLFRIEND!?!?! I will give you all my credit card info if you write a stug sleepover/cuddle/ lovey dovey bullshit scene. I also reread season two and the first stug sleepover and I never noticed the fact that Steve placed his pillows on the wall facing bugs bed! Was it because he wanted to see her, like see her fall asleep and see her when he first woke up? Cause if so that's so sweet and to see Steve yearning so hard while they're both in love with different people hurts. I can't wait to see them learn that they both love each other and they don't have to worry so much. The rules will never switch up with bug, and bug doesn't have to worry about Steve leaving or ditching her. Steve would never put anything above bug and bug would never make Steve feel like he's hard to love. Nancy and Steve weren't compatible, bug and Jonathan were afraid of their feelings. Everything kinda aligned for Steve and bug to be together and be happy❤️

JUG REUNION SOON !!! and i can possibly write a cute blurb hopefully soon about a stug sleepover, just need to finish up some season 3 lore so that nothing gets spoiled <3

AND FINALLY SOMEONE ASKS ME ABOUT STEVE PUTTING HIS PILLOWS TO FACE BUG !! that was intentional and im so happy you caught it <3333

in my mind steve did that because at this point in the timeline he feels such a draw towards bug. he doesnt consciously place his pillows to face her, he does it without thinking. he wants to face her and be as close as he possibly can be. shes like a magnet, always drawing him in. its just so natural for him, i picture it almost as if hes a sunflower and bug is the sun 🫶

and YES for everything aligning steve and bug falling in love <3 they love each other as they are, as everyone else has told them not to be, and its beautiful

[undertheknightwing]

WIP GAME

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigued them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Tagged by @not-so-mundane-after-all and if you don’t mind I'm gonna steal your idea since I don't have any active wips either, just ideas:

• First, obviously I'm always working on chapters. We're gonna ignore the fact that it took me two years to get to the chapter where the boys finally go on a date 🙃 but I'll give myself a pass since this is chapter 22 and I can't believe I got that far.

• Titanstober Week 4 idea that focuses on some of the horrible things done to Gar by the Chief, all seen by Rachel who somehow found herself able to wander in Gar's memories even though she hasn't been able to before and towards the end gets her answer when meeting someone very magical and powerful.

• Now to jump to another ship, I'm a sucker for re-writing episodes/scenes and I've been itching to re-write the kryptonite poisoning scenes in the s&l episode "Loyal Subjekts" to give my Jonny-Boy some hurt + comfort because it's just.. ughh.. that he didn't get sick too. He's got Kryptonian dna which means he should be affected by kryptonite. Simple as that. He's getting poisoned by kryptonite and Clark is gonna be a good dad who actually takes care of Jon for once dammit!

• Okay back to Titans, I thought about writing some kind of Christmas party fic that takes place like four years after season 4. It'd be wholesome but also bittersweet because everyone's grown up with their own lives. DickKory are living a life as normal as they can with Mar'i, Rachel is about to graduate college, and Gar's living in Metropolis with a roommate (who's also technically his co-worker) but is still the Red's champion so he's barely had time to see the Titans throughout the years. It'd be a shock to everyone that Gar actually has the time to attend the party. (that, or release the director's cut of "a very merry crossover christmas")

Now for ideas that probably won't be written but they've been stuck in my head for a while

• Since Gar is connected to life and death through the Red, I assume he can contact the afterlife and thought how emotionally damaging it'd be for Gar to visit his parents. Like I have this image of his parents afterlife being living peacefully in a cute little house where they can just enjoy each other's company, away from all the science stuff that took up their attention forever, and someday Gar shows up to finally talk to them again after so long. Heartbreaking family reunion stuff, ya know?

• In the same train as family stuff because I love it, it makes me very happy, I'm so soft for the idea of dad!Gar. It's been in my brain for years. He'd be so silly but so sweet,, I'm just in love with it 🥺💖 Anyway the idea would be Dick meeting Gar's son and being a mix of anxiety, pride, and "Oh my god I'm a grandpa and I'm not even 40". Mar'i would be super excited to have a nephew too.

• Krypto in s&l, that's all. He's Jon's dog because Jon deserves a dog.

• Jon in Wonderland au. I was obsessed with this idea, like it's all I could think about for a bit. (I have a couple drawings from the idea that I'd glady show you bestie if you ever wanna see 💙)

[incorrectgallaghergirlsquotes]

Is it too much to ask for a fic on zach's pov when he foubd macey instead of cammie? TwT

Anon, I love you. I love all of you, but this ask in particular got me so excited lol. I love this scene. It's absolutely not too much to ask.

I went back and reread, for anyone curious, we're looking at OGSY Chapter 23.

Cammie had once tried to make a joke to Zach about some guy hitting 'like a girl'. To which Zach had replied 'not the girls I know'. It was true. He spent one semester with the Gallagher Girls and that was enough to know those girls could hit and make it count. Even after being on the receiving end of hits from Cammie, Bex, and even Liz, nothing prepared him for Macey.

Because of course Macey McHenry couldn't just hit him with her fists. Of course it had to be much worse.

There was no mistaking her face. The wig and the jacket and the sheer fact that he wanted it to be Cammie were enough when she had her back to him. But now he felt himself reeling backwards as if she had slapped him.

"Macey?" he heard himself ask, even though he already knew it to be true. The girls had played him. "Where's Cammie?"

"You look disappointed to see me," Macey replied, coyly. Zach didn't miss how she didn't answer the question. "Don't you like my jacket?"

Zach felt his anger flare up then. He couldn't tell what it was about Macey wearing his jacket rather than Cammie that turned his shocked expression into a glare, but it happened. Call it possessiveness or toxic masculinity or whatever, he didn't care. "Where is she?" he demanded. He recovered from his steps backwards earlier and closed some of that distance between them.

"At school, watching from a live video feed," Macey said. "She's safe." she added. As if that would make everything better. Maybe it should have. But it didn't.

"The jammers at the school won't allow that, Macey," he said, shaking his head. Macey was a great liar, but the girls often forgot that Zach knew too much. At least enough to warrant a little bit of a better effort for him. "Now where is she? I know she's around here somewhere." He started turning, trying to see if he could find her. She wouldn't leave her roommates to do this on their own. Sure, Macey was the only one out at the moment, but where there was one Gallagher Girl there were always others.

As if to prove his point another voice answered him. "She's safe where she is, Zach." Bex said, emerging to join them. "And we're going to keep it that way."

Zach fought the urge to roll his eyes. At some point these girls really decided they were the law. That they were the only people who cared about Cammie. "I need to talk to her."

"So talk," Macey said, nonchalantly. "We've got comms. She can hear you."

"I need to see her," Zach amended. He spoke very much in the tone of a person who would not settle for less than what he wanted. He hoped they were at least being honest that Cammie could hear him. That she might hear the desperation in his voice and let that fuel her own curiosity (that he knew she had) and come out of wherever she was hiding from.

"You stay where you are!" Bex exclaimed, into her earpiece.

It worked. Zach would have smiled, if he anticipated he and Cammie having a happy reunion.

"She's lucky to have you," he told Bex and Macey after a moment. As annoying as they were when trying to protect Cammie from him, it was a bit of a relief knowing the lengths they would go to. "She needs you."

Instead of acknowledging what he'd said, Macey turned to him again. "What are you doing here, Zach?" she asked, a last ditch effort to get something out of this plan before Cammie did whatever she was planning.

"It's complicated," Zach said. He was certain Cammie was going to join them any moment. All he had to do was stall.

"So un-complicate it."

He'd never been so relieved and elated to hear her voice. He spun to face her immediately. She was there. Real and in front of him and alive. Based on the distance between them she was hesitant and unsure, but that didn't matter to him. She was sure enough to be there.

"You're with him," Cammie said. It took that for Zach to realize he hadn't said anything upon her arrival, just stood there, taking her in.

"Technically, he's on an errand halfway around the world right now," he joked. It didn't land though. He could see Cammie's thoughts racing a mile a minute. He moved away from her friends and towards her, testing to see if she would bolt. She didn't, but Zach wasn't certain she'd caught the movement.

"Liz and Macey told me that just because you go to Blackthorne doesn't mean-," her voice caught and Zach felt it tug his heart right along with it. He closed more of the space between them, not thinking about her words or anything else except the heartbroken look on her face as she said, "But you really are with him."

"Gallagher girl," he tried. "Listen to me."

"So, what happened, Zach? Did the Circle recruit you, too?"

Zach fought the urge to flinch. The clock was ticking and time was running out on how much longer he could keep the truth from her. There were only a few steps between them now. Cammie hadn't moved back, but Zach could no longer bring himself to cross them. "Not exactly," he whispered, not able to look at her as he said it. It wasn't even a full admission and still the words burned in his throat.

Cammie studied him for a moment, he could feel her eyes on him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her flinch. He hated the idea that he could potentially cause such a reaction from her. She swallowed, hard. "What are you doing here, Zach?" she tried again.

"He asked me to get a message to you."

"So send me a message!" she exclaimed. "What was so important that I had to risk my friends' safety to sneak out here? Huh? What was so-,"

"I had to see you," Zach cut her off. Her questions were valid, more valid than his reasoning. Much less selfish, too. But it was the truth. He had to make her see it, to understand it. He closed last remaining space between them. Removing his hands from his pockets, he held her hands in his. Hers were cold as he looked into her eyes. "I had to know that you were okay," he went on. He was searching her face for any sign of his sincerity getting through to her. Any sign that it was enough to earn some of her trust back. "I had to see you and touch you and know."

She didn't say anything, just studied him. His hand moved away from hers, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. The tips of his fingers trailed away from her ear, down her jaw, and lingered on her face a moment. "In London...after DC..." he wasn't quite sure what he was saying at that point. There was too much to be said and no way to do it.

"I'm fine," Cammie spoke at last. She tried taking a step back from him despite Zach still holding both of her hands in one of his. "CAT scans and X-Rays were normal. No lasting damage."

Zach felt his anger rise again. But it was different this time. He wasn't mad at Cammie or anyone else. Rather, he couldn't believe that's what she thought he was worried about. That in this moment that was what he meant. That those words would erase his concerns.

"Really?" he asked. The words were soft and gentle, in direct opposition to how he felt internally. His hand came back up to her face, this time cupping her cheek. He felt her shiver slightly as her cold skin adjusted to the warmth of his hand. "Cause I'm not."

[nellie-elizabeth]

Outlander: Unfinished Business (7x09)

We're back, at long last! It's been a million years!

Cons:

It's not the actress's fault, but I did find the re-casting of Jenny to be distracting. The reunion vibes, and the tension between Claire and Jenny, all that stuff - it just didn't pack the same punch because it was some random woman I'd never seen before in my life, you know?

Also, I'll wait until next week to judge, but I feel like this show is always lacking in the Ian Sr. and Jamie relationship. It makes sense that a great deal of time goes to Young Ian's reunion with his dying father, but I could have used more of Jamie and Ian together as brothers, here. A more emotionally poignant moment of return, the laird back in Lallybroch and seeing the man who maintains it for him.

I have had this complaint so many times over the years with this show, but the truth is, the voice-over stuff just does not work for me! There are times when it's less bad and times when it's more bad, but that's about it. Roger having a voice-over in this episode was distracting as fuck. I understand that it would have potentially been challenging to get across the revelation of Roger being in the wrong time without some sort of awkward statement of reality in the exposition, but they could have found a better way, I'm fairly certain.

Pros:

For all that the voice-over annoyed me, I still did like Roger's journey into the past. They really made a meal out of that moment when Roger shows up to Lallybroch. There's a knock at the door, and you think Jamie and Roger are about to be reunited, you're so relieved because now Roger is going to have his family with him on his hunt for Jemmy, and then... nope! Syke! It's such a good twist in the books and the show too. So fun to get to know Brian Fraser a little bit too, and to see young Jenny - it was easier to get on board with this different actress in the flashback.

Laoghaire is such an interesting character because her anger is motivated more by bitterness and heartbreak than by pure reason, and yet she's also not entirely wrong about Jamie screwing her over. It's funny how this character keeps turning up like a bad penny and then trying to murder Jamie right in front of our eyes, and yet you're still kind of hoping that Jamie will do right by her and make sure she's okay. The acting has a lot to do with it, I've always really liked her performance in the role. I also like that Jamie gets heated with her even when he's trying to be the reasonable one and offer his apologies. This is a story where the ex-spouses aren't going to be friendly with each other in the end, no matter that they're both in different happy relationships now. Some wounds don't heal.

What a treat to meat Joanie, and see her set off on her life as a nun! I liked her going to Jamie, her stepfather, and laying out the situation with her mother and the land she stays on. Jamie does the right honorable thing, taking care of his stepdaughter and making sure Laoghaire can marry her lover without losing her home. You hate that women are in the position to have to depend on a man doing the right thing, but you're glad knowing that this man always will do the right thing. I liked the almost girlish excitement Laoghaire displayed when she realized she was going to get everything she wanted, and how she tamped it down in front of Jamie and Claire. (Also, it is pretty ridiculous that Ned Gowan is still alive - this is a detail from the books that always made me chuckle.)

I think I mentioned in earlier reviews that Ian and Rachel's romance on this show (and also in the books if I'm being honest) isn't my favorite thing in the world. But given that she's absent in this episode, only evoked by name, I do like the role she plays in Ian's journey, here. He comes home after so many years, an entire life lived away from his place of birth. He's been married and divorced, he's lost a child. He's been adopted into, and then chosen to leave, a tribe that gave him a new cultural identity to lay alongside his Scottish origins. He's on the cusp of maybe making a new happiness with someone, only then he discovers that his father his dying.

So what does he do? He writes to Rachel to release her from any implication that she would wait for his return. He has to stay, to spend the rest of his father's life by his side. Then we get a sequence of scenes that actually did make me tear up. Jenny rips up the letter Ian wrote to Rachel, then takes him out to the family graveyard, where Ian sees that they've put a grave up for his infant daughter. They copied the Mohawk words from Ian's letter onto the grave, so it says "most beloved daughter." Jenny tells Ian that he'll have a place here to remember her and that she was on this Earth with him. And that he'll always be here at Lallybroch with them too, even if he leaves. As Jenny says, Ian's father wants him to go and live the rest of his life.

So... Ian's off with Claire back to America. The moment between father and son, when Ian comes out of the house and down the stairs, grievously ill and unsteady on his feet, the way they stare at each other and wave goodbye... god, there's something so definitive and beautiful and tragic about it. It's something that isn't really a part of our modern world in the same way. Ian Sr. doesn't have long left to live, and Ian Jr. is going very far away with no means of getting back quickly. They know they're looking at each other for the very last time, and they get the chance to say that goodbye with the full knowledge of that reality. It really tugged at my heartstrings!

Obviously because I am me, the thing that got me the most pumped about this show being back on the air is Claire getting that letter from Lord John. I always swoon when John uses first names with Jamie and with Claire, it feels like he's taking liberties in the best way. He implores her to come to Philadelphia to save his nephew Henry. I know the sequence of events that's about to be set off here, and I've got to say it's some of my favorite shit in the whole damn series. I am SO excited for the next couple of episodes - we even saw John in the "next time on," about to give Claire some bad news...... I am frothing at the mouth!

Ahem. Anyway. It was nice to be back in Lallybroch, I liked this episode quite a bit. Roger and Buck have run into Geillis, another bad penny, and we'll have to see how that goes when we check back in with them next week!

8/10