#and this is not how either of them thought would happen when they parted ways in the tower

[pbaz7]

FLIGHT 2136: PART 4

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content

word count: 8.6k

A/N: This really somehow turned into a serious lmao. God bless ✈️ anon. I’m thoroughly enjoying writing this one and I’m excited to see where I can take it next. Anything specific people wanna see?? Leave live reacts and comments if you can 🫶🏼🫶🏼

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After that night their conversations become effortless and automatic. What was once occasional text over a span of a few days here and there now turned into good morning messages, updates throughout the day, and late-night conversations that stretched longer than either of them intended.

Azzi quickly learned that Paige wasn’t actually that bad of a texter–when she wanted to be. It just took a little extra effort. Sometimes, though, she still slipped up, forgetting to reply for hours. When that happened, Azzi would call her, barely waiting for Paige to pick up before saying, “Text me back, genius.”

Paige would mumble out a sheepish, “My bad,” rubbing her eyes. But then, everytime without fail, she’d add, “You look pretty today,” her voice turning soft.

Azzi would roll her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile before hanging up.

A few seconds after hanging up, Azzi’s phone would buzz with notifications from Paige—each one carefully addressing everything Azzi had mentioned. It was clear Paige was paying attention, making sure to answer everything, even if it was something small like, "I just got Dairy Queen!" or "I found that song you were talking about."

The Facetimes, once a source of mild resistance from Paige, quickly became something she didn't mind at all. She didn’t grumble about how she didn’t like them anymore. Instead, Paige would simply answer and just prop her phone up and go about whatever random task she was doing, talking with Azzi as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Whether it was shooting in the gym, organizing her room, or just lounging around, Paige would keep the conversation light, letting Azzi watch her move through the motions of her day. And even on days where Paige wasn’t the most animated during their calls, a little spaced out, Azzi could still hear the underlying affection in her voice when she did say something—the way her words were always just a little softer compared to when she talked to everyone else, a little more personal.

Azzi found herself completely captivated by how Paige’s personality started to shine through in their everyday conversations. At first, Paige had always come across as a bit reserved, quiet, especially when surrounded by others–and honestly she still was. But in their moments alone, whether it was through text or FaceTime, Paige’s true colors began to emerge. Azzi had never expected her to be this way–honestly. Paige was a little obnoxious at times, cracking jokes that made Azzi laugh out loud, even when she tried to keep a straight face. Paige could be playful and sarcastic, the type to tease Azzi for the tiniest things, but it was never mean-spirited. It was endearing.

But what Azzi adored most was how gentle and observant Paige was. It was like she had a way of noticing the smallest details, even when she didn’t say anything about them. Whether it was how Azzi would get distracted by the simplests things, or how she picked up on subtle changes in Azzi’s mood, Paige seemed to have this innate ability to read between the lines.

The way these traits blended together–Paige being confident that was borderline cocky at times, a little obnoxious, funny, yet so thoughtful and perceptive–shouldn’t have worked as well as they did, but it was perfect. It was her. And Azzi was starting to realize just how much she loved it. There was something about Paige’s complexity, the contradictions of her personality that made her unique. With every conversation, every little moment, Azzi found herself falling for Paige Bueckers.

Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi. Maybe it had been the night after the USC game, when she sat there in the hotel room, unraveling a part of herself she had never shared with anyone before. When she told Azzi about the accident—some of the details, the conflict she felt all the time, the way she had spent so long resenting the world for what happened but thanking God that it wasn’t worse. And instead of offering empty words or hollow reassurances, Azzi just was—solid, there asking Paige what she needed instead of offering up what she thought she needed to hear. Somehow, within seconds of laying it all out, Azzi had brought her peace. A kind of peace Paige hadn’t even known she was searching for with a simple story about cutting her little brother's hair.

Or maybe it was in the hallway that same night. When she admitted she’d miss Azzi, the words feeling heavier than they should’ve. And Azzi, instead of overcomplicating it, just pulled her in, giving her something to hold onto, a quiet reassurance.

But then sometimes Paige thinks it was the next morning. When Paige, still groggy, had opened her door to find Azzi standing there in full UConn gear, clearly about to leave the hotel. Paige had barely mumbled out a good morning before Azzi stepped forward, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, like it was the most natural thing in the world and handed Paige a coffee, as if she knew that the blonde didn’t sleep much that night.

So yeah, Paige didn’t know the exact moment she fell for Azzi Fudd. But she knew that she had and she knew it happened when she was in California. She knew that she liked how Azzi made her feel. How Azzi made the world seem a little brighter. Like sunshine and rainbows as Paige would often sarcastically say when Azzi told her to cheer up.

Right now Azzi was lying in her bed, her phone propped up against her pillow as she absentmindedly toyed with the drawstring of her hoodie. Paige, on the other hand, was sitting at her desk, hunched over doing—well, Azzi wasn’t sure what exactly.

Azzi narrowed her eyes at the screen. "So, how was your LSU visit?"

Paige snorted, not even looking up. "It was alright."

Azzi raised a brow. "Alright? So… no?"

Paige finally glanced at her phone, looking at Azzi before smiling a little saying, "Not my vibe, is all."

Azzi smirked, shifting onto her side. "I feel like you say that about every team except UConn."

Paige leaned back in her chair, smirking right back. "Maybe I said it about UConn too. I just wouldn’t tell you."

Azzi’s jaw dropped at this. "That’s rude."

Paige just shrugged, clearly unbothered as she went back to whatever she was doing at her desk.

Azzi squinted at her. "What are you doing over there?"

Paige huffed as she leaned back in her chair again, throwing her pencil down on the desk. "I’m trying to do a sudoku."

Azzi snorted. "Why?"

Paige shrugged again.

Azzi’s lips curled into an amused grin as she propped herself up on one elbow. "Since when do you do sudoku?"

Paige groaned, dragging a hand down her face before resting her chin in her palm. "Since today. And probably not after today."

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "Let me see."

Paige picked up her phone and angled it toward her desk. The screen showed a sudoku puzzle that looked… well, disastrous. Numbers were scratched out at the bottom, some squares had been filled in and erased multiple times, and at least one spot had what looked like a tiny doodle in the corner.

Azzi covered her mouth to muffle her laugh. "Oh my God."

Paige rolled her eyes but smirked. "Okay, mathlete. Relax."

Azzi grinned. "Do you even know the rules?"

"Yes, I know the rules," Paige said. "I just don’t know why there are so many numbers."

Azzi blinked. "Paige… that’s literally the point of sudoku."

Paige let out a deep sigh, tilting her head back. "See? This is why I don’t try new things. I need to just stick to dribbling a basketball."

Azzi hummed. "What’s got you trying new things, then?"

Paige shrugged as she pushed back from her desk and stood, stretching her arms above her head. Azzi watched as the hem of Paige’s shirt lifted, revealing parts of her toned stomach. She hadn’t meant to stare, but—okay, maybe she had a little.

Paige smirked, catching the way Azzi’s gaze lingered. She picked up her phone, bringing it closer to her face. "You’re a pervert."

Azzi scoffed. "I literally didn’t even do anything." But there was a slight smile on her lips, giving her away.

Paige dropped back onto her bed, lying on her side with one arm propped under her head. "You didn’t have to," she mumbled, eyes locked onto Azzi’s through the screen.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, shifting onto her stomach, resting her chin on her hands. "Oh? So now I’m just guilty by association?"

Paige’s smile deepened. "More so guilty by intention but sure."

Azzi let out a breath of laughter, shaking her head. "You’re actually the worst sometimes."

Paige tilted her head. "Am I really?"

Azzi caught the shift in tone, the playfulness turning into something a little more intentional. She pressed her lips together, debating for a second before deciding—fuck it.

"Mhm," Azzi hummed, trailing a finger along the edge of her phone as she watched Paige closely. "But I think you like it that way."

Paige licked her lips, her gaze flickering over Azzi’s face. "Maybe."

Azzi bit her lip, her voice turning softer. "You’re a little smug for someone who just got roasted over sudoku."

Paige grinned. "Mmm course I am, look at how you’re lookin at me."

Azzi exhaled a short laugh. "You’re so annoying."

Paige’s smirk didn’t waver as she said, “No I’m not."

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the way her cheeks warmed. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"I could give you a few ideas."

Azzi blinked, her breath catching just slightly. Paige was really pushing it now.

She swallowed, tilting her head. "Oh yeah?"

Paige nodded, her fingers idly playing with the ring she always wore on her finger. "Mhm. But I think you already know."

Azzi let out a slow breath as she shifted. "You sure you can handle me?"

Paige huffed out a chuckle as she licked her lips. "I think I already showed you I can handle you just fine, Azzi."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her stomach flipping at how Paige was looking at her through the screen—like she knew exactly what she was doing, exactly how she was making her feel.

Azzi bit her lip, her voice softer now. "I miss you."

Paige’s expression softened just slightly, but then, before Azzi could get too caught up in the moment, Paige smirked again. "You’re just horny."

Azzi’s eyes widened, her mouth parting in shock. "Paige!"

Paige just chuckled, clearly enjoying herself. "What? Am I wrong?"

Azzi narrowed her eyes, though the warmth creeping up her neck betrayed her. "You’re disgusting."

Paige propped herself up on her elbow, tilting her head as she studied Azzi through the screen. "I’m just saying… you’re looking at me like you want something."

Azzi huffed, shifting onto her back as she threw an arm over her face for a second before peeking at Paige again. "And what if I do?"

"Then I guess I’d have to do something about it next time I see you."

God, Azzi wished she hadn’t asked that question because now she was warm and uncomfortable, and the worst part was—she knew Paige knew. The way she was chuckling on the other side of the screen, made Azzi squirm even more.

Azzi groaned. "Paige, please."

Paige hummed, all teasing. "Hm?"

Azzi hesitated, debating whether she was really about to ask for help with her… situation, but before she could get the words out, there was a knock on Paige’s door.

Paige’s head moved toward it, her smirk fading slightly. "Yeah?"

The door creaked open, and Drew peeked inside. "Can I sleep in here tonight?"

Paige’s expression shifted instantly—her playfulness replaced with something softer, more serious. She sat up, nodding without hesitation. "Yeah, course." She scooted over on her bed, making space for him near the wall.

Reaching for her phone, she looked down at the screen, her gaze apologetic. "I’m sorry, I gotta go, I’ll text you in a sec."

Azzi shook her head, completely understanding. "Don’t apologize."

Paige gave her a small, grateful smile before they both hung up, leaving Azzi lying there, staring at the ceiling—still warm, still uncomfortable, and now, very much alone with the feelings.

Or at least she thought she was alone—until her phone buzzed a few times.

Azzi grabbed it from beside her, her brows raising slightly when she saw Paige’s name on the screen. She unlocked her phone, and the second she saw what Paige had sent, she felt her stomach tighten.

The pictures weren’t anything too overly suggestive, but they were enough.

Some were mirror selfies—Paige’s sweats low on her hips, her stomach on display, a sports bra the only thing covering her top half. Others were clearly taken after being in the gym, her skin still slightly flushed, her hair damp, the definition in her arms pronounced.

Azzi chuckled when she got to the last one—a hand pic.

All the pictures were followed by a message. "Get yourself right."

Another buzz. "I'm sorry I couldn't help. I got you next time."

Azzi exhaled sharply, her entire body warm, her face buried in her pillow as she groaned.

Somehow, even when she wasn’t physically there, Paige still had her in a chokehold.

Still, Azzi followed directions. She sighed, shifting against her sheets, wishing—aching—that it was Paige’s hand instead of her own.

…

Back in Minnesota Paige lay still beside Drew, both of them staring up at the ceiling, their arms thrown behind their heads in near identical positions as they laid in silence for a few minutes. It was almost uncanny how much they looked alike when you really looked at them, their features reflecting off one another from the dim glow of Paige’s bedside lamp. Drew had gotten older, taller, but in moments like these, Paige was reminded that he was still her little brother—the same kid who used to follow her around with wide eyes, hanging onto every word she said.

The silence stretched between them, Paige figuring Drew was just taking a while to fall asleep. Then, Drew said something.

“That girl you’re always talking to,” he started, his voice quiet but still confident, like Paige had taught him.

Paige turned her head slightly, already knowing where this was going. “Her name’s Azzi,” she corrected, a small smirk playing on her lips.

Drew hummed in acknowledgment. “Is Azzi the reason you’re leaving?”

Paige blinked, caught off guard for a split second before she turned her head to look at him. She studied him for a moment, the way his brows furrowed slightly, waiting for her answer. With a sigh she said, “You know how when you were younger and we always talked about you coming to my games when I got to the league?” she asked.

Drew simply nodded.

Paige exhaled, glancing back up at the ceiling. “That can’t happen if I stay where I’m at now.”

Drew was silent for a moment before he mumbled, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

Paige let out a quiet chuckle. “You and Dad are moving to the DMV. I’ll be one call away, I swear.”

Drew turned his head, watching her carefully before he finally asked, “So you’re going to UConn?”

A slow smile spread across Paige’s face as she nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna go to UConn.”

Drew studied her for another moment, then asked, “Have you told them yet?”

Paige sighed, shaking her head. “No, not yet.”

“Why not?”

Paige turned her head to look at him again, a different kind of warmth settling in her chest. She smirked slightly before answering. “I gotta tell Azzi first.”

Drew’s lips twitched into a grin as he turned onto his side, finally facing the wall to go to sleep. But not before adding, “You like her, huh?”

Paige rolled her eyes, but the smirk never left her lips. “Man, shut up. You’re supposed to be in here going to bed.”

Drew just laughed as he pulled the cover over his head to go to sleep.

Paige grabbed her phone from the nightstand, her fingers lingering over it for a moment before unlocking the screen. She chuckled softly when she saw a message from Azzi sent just three minutes ago. The message was simple, just a “Thank you.” Paige huffed out a quiet laugh when she saw the period.

She quickly typed out a response, her fingers moving without hesitation: Yup. After a brief pause, she added one more message, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she typed: Goodnight beautiful.

She read it over once more, her heart skipping just a little at the words before she locked her phone and set it back on the table. Paige turned off the light and settled into bed, pulling the covers up over her.

She stayed still for a while, her hands tucked behind her head, staring out the window that was across from her bed. The sudden quietness of the room seemed to amplify the thoughts racing through her mind, each one more tangled than the last.

She couldn't help but think of Drew, her little brother, and the way he'd come crawling into her bed tonight, like he’d done so many times before–seeking comfort from the chaos of his own thoughts. Her heart ached just thinking about it. She’d been around for every significant moment of his life, his constant lifeline, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty for leaving him behind, even if it was for the right reasons.

But then, as if the universe was constantly reminding her of the duality of her life, another thought would emerge: the weight of her future, the pressure to fulfill a dream she’d been chasing since she could walk. She wanted to go back to the notoriety she used to have, not because of the attention it gave her, but because of what came with it—the ability to give her family the life they deserved, to give back. To provide for Drew, her dad, her mom.

Paige sighed softly, her body sinking deeper into the mattress, as she tried to will her mind to quiet for just a moment so she could fall asleep. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, but the thoughts kept coming. She knew it would take time, a lot of effort, and maybe even more sacrifice to make everything fall into place. But for tonight, she just wanted a break from the weight of it all. Just a few minutes of peace. She closed her eyes, exhaling a long breath as she tried to empty her mind, willing herself to relax.

It wasn’t long before another thought slipped into her head—Azzi. This time, instead of adding weight, like everything else, it brought a sense of comfort. Azzi wasn’t like anyone else in Paige’s life. Thinking about Azzi didn’t tighten her chest or add more confusion to her already overwhelming thoughts. When her mind drifted to Azzi, everything else seemed to fade into the background. Because she knew Azzi didn’t expect anything from her. Azzi wasn’t asking Paige to be anyone but herself—she didn’t have any preconceived notions about who Paige used to be. The girl on the other end of those late-night Facetimes only knew Paige from what she’d shared. The thoughts she had were based on the present, not some past version of Paige.

That was the thing that should've terrified Paige. She wasn’t used to feeling so... seen, without the weight of what others thought she should be or the pressure of always having to do the right thing. Azzi didn’t ask for any of that. The simplicity of their connection, how natural it felt, should have sent her running in the opposite direction, a voice in the back of her mind telling her it was too easy, too comfortable for the kind of world they lived in. They hadn’t even had a serious conversation about what they were or what they had going on—and yet, Paige didn’t worry about it.

She should’ve been terrified of how she felt about Azzi already–it had only been a few months. But for some reason, anytime she thought about her, the only thing Paige felt was calmness. She rarely thought about it if she was being honest. It just felt right. Everything about Azzi felt... right. Like the pieces of her life, of their connection, were meant to fall into place in the way they had.

As Paige lay there, still, her mind slowing down for the first time that night she couldn’t help but smile a little. The thought of being around Azzi all the time, physically being with her instead of having to hear her voice through a phone. Being able to physically touch her. It all seemed too good to be true, but Paige didn’t worry about that—she thought just maybe that the universe was finally repaying her.

Third Person POV - March 2024

After taking a shower Paige sat on the edge of her hotel bed, the soft glow of her phone illuminating her face as she idly scrolled, waiting. The room itself was silent, but Paige’s mind was buzzing with anticipation. She knew it was only a matter of time before Azzi texted her or called. It always happened that way after games.

She leaned back against the pillows, letting out a slow breath as she glanced at the time. UConn had won their Sweet Sixteen game against Duke earlier that night, and unknowingly to Azzi, Paige had been there to witness it. She had come down with her dad and Drew, who hadn’t seen UConn play in person yet. The three of them had seats in the stands, and while it felt strange watching from far, Paige loved the experience.

Her dad and Drew were sharing a room down the hall, while she had her own. Now, alone in her room, Paige found herself sitting, waiting—because she knew Azzi would reach out. Azzi never let too much time pass without talking to her.

Right on cue, her phone buzzed. “You up?”

Paige chuckled to herself, shaking her head before typing out a response.

Paige 💗You a 16-year-old boy now?

Azzi’s reply came almost immediately.

Azzi <3 Lol I’ll take that as a yes

Paige smirked, stretching one of her arms over her head before texting back.

Paige 💗I was waiting on you

Azzi <3 Oh yeah?

Paige💗Yeah.

The typing bubbles appeared for a moment before disappearing, and then suddenly, Paige’s screen lit up with an incoming FaceTime call. Her smirk deepened as she swiped to answer, settling back against the pillows.

When the call connected, all Paige could see was the bathroom ceiling, but she could hear Azzi’s voice.

"Why are you always flirting with me?"

Paige laughed. "Cause you like it."

"No, I don’t," Azzi shot back, but there was no real conviction behind her words—it was clearly a lie.

Paige raised an eyebrow, playing along. "No?"

"No," Azzi repeated, but Paige could hear the slight waver in her voice.

Paige chuckled. "Why not?"

There was a pause before Azzi mumbled, "Because all it does is make me sexually frustrated."

Paige smirked at that, biting her lip before saying, "Lemme fix that for you, then."

"Paige, please," Azzi groaned, still off-screen.

Paige chuckled. "Please what?"

"I really can’t handle that today," Azzi muttered. "I won’t be alone for the next week, and I already feel like I’m about to explode."

Paige hummed, amused at Azzi’s frustration. "That’s not a problem."

She heard Azzi groan again, making her chuckle. "Azzi, come to the camera."

There was a beat of silence, then a soft shuffle. A few seconds later, Azzi finally appeared with a towel wrapped around her, clearly fresh out of the shower.

"Where are you?" she asked, scanning Paige’s unfamiliar background.

Paige tilted her head slightly. "My hotel room."

Azzi's expression was filled with confusion. "What? You’re done with visits."

Paige grinned. "That’s what I been tryna tell you." Then, more sincerely, she added, "You played great today, by the way."

Azzi smiled at the compliment before quickly piecing together what Paige was saying. "Wait—you’re here? In Portland?"

Paige simply nodded, watching as realization dawned on Azzi’s face. A grin spread as soon as the realization sank in.

"What room are you in?" she asked, her voice carrying an excitement that wasn’t there before.

"617," Paige answered smoothly.

Azzi didn’t hesitate. "I’ll be down there soon."

Paige hummed in response as Azzi hung up the phone.

A few minutes later a sharp knock at the door shocked Paige a little, but she didn’t hesitate when she got up to answer it. She swung it open without even checking the peephole, already knowing exactly who was on the other side.

Before she could fully take in Azzi’s appearance—her damp hair, the cropped shirt she must’ve thrown on in a hurry—Azzi rushed forward, crashing their lips together.

The kiss from Azzi is urgent and unrestrained. Paige stumbles back a little, her hands instinctively gripping Azzi’s waist as she pulls her in, making sure neither of them lose their balance. The door swings shut behind them with a loud thud, the only sound in the room now is their heavy breaths as they press closer to one another.

Azzi’s hands find Paige’s jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, while Paige steadies them both, her fingers slipping beneath the loose cropped shirt Azzi has on. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing—just unspoken longing spilling over now that they’re finally in the same place again.

After what feels like an eternity of them standing there, Azzi pulls back just enough to whisper against Paige’s lips, “You really didn’t think to tell me you were here?”

Paige smirks, her hands still on Azzi’s waist. “Figured a surprise was more fun.”

Azzi huffs out a small laugh before tugging Paige back in, shaking her head as she mumbles, “You’re ridiculous.” But she doesn’t seem to think so when Paige’s tongue slides in her mouth.

They move together, stumbling but somehow in sync, until they reach the foot of the bed. Despite how frantic it seems, Paige is careful—guiding them, making sure Azzi doesn’t trip over anything in her rush. They stay standing at the foot of the bed for a moment, lost in one another, lips moving, hands exploring like they’re memorizing the feeling of each other.

Then Azzi pulls back just enough, her fingers slipping under the hem of Paige’s shirt. Paige lifts her arms, letting Azzi tug it over her head. The second it’s gone, Azzi discards her own shirt and doesn’t waste another moment before pulling her back in, her lips crashing into Paige’s.

Paige chuckles against her mouth, breaking the kiss just enough to murmur, “Baby, slow down—” her hands find Azzi’s waist, thumbs smoothing over her skin as she whispers, “Lemme see you.”

Azzi, still a little dazed, blinks at Paige and murmurs, “What did you just call me?”

Paige chuckles, shaking her head as she tries to play it off. “Nothing,” she says casually. “I said, lemme see you.”

Azzi doesn’t press—at least, not yet. Instead, she lowers herself onto the bed, looking up at Paige through her eyelashes, the corners of her lips tugging up just slightly.

Paige exhales, rolling her eyes playfully. “Don’t look at me like that.” She steps closer, brushing her thumb along Azzi’s chin, her touch impossibly gentle despite the tension crackling between them.

Azzi tilts her head, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

Paige groans, her fingers curling under Azzi’s chin as she mutters, “Like that.”

Azzi just blinks up at her, a soft smile playing on her lips.

Paige exhales sharply, shaking her head as she steps back. “You know what you’re doing,” she mutters, turning away.

Azzi simply shrugs. “Maybe.”

She watches as Paige leans against the desk across from the bed. Azzi takes her in, letting her gaze roam—Paige’s hair pulled back in a loose bun, her diamond earrings catching the light, the black shorts sitting on her hips, paired with a black Nike sports bra. And then there’s her cross necklace, resting just above her chest.

Azzi smirks. “Why are you dressed like that?”

Paige lifts an eyebrow, silently challenging the question. Like what?

Azzi shakes her head, her smile deepening. “Come here.”

Paige pushes off the desk and walks over, looking at Azzi the entire time. The moment she’s close enough, Azzi reaches for her necklace, curling her fingers around it as she gives a gentle tug, pulling Paige down toward her on the bed.

Paige hovers over Azzi, smiling down at her, amusement flickering in her eyes. Azzi meets her gaze, fingers still curled around the necklace. She gives it another tug, just enough to bring Paige down to her level, and their lips meet again—this one is slower, more intimate, as if they’re finally allowing themselves to just exist in this moment.

There’s no urgency, no frantic need to make up for lost time.

Paige starts to pull away, but Azzi’s fingers tighten around the chain, keeping her close. Their lips reconnect, and Paige can’t help but smile into it, letting out a soft chuckle at Azzi’s persistence. Azzi hums against her mouth, clearly pleased with herself, and Paige deepens the kiss for just a second longer before murmuring against her lips, “So this is how it is, huh?”

Azzi hums in response, deepening the kiss, and Paige lets her, letting herself sink into the warmth of it as Azzi’s fingers stay wrapped around her necklace, keeping her close, as if she’s afraid Paige will disappear if she lets go.

After a while, both of their lips are raw when Paige pulls back just enough to murmur, “I gotta tell you something.”

Azzi doesn’t release her immediately, stealing a few more kisses before finally loosening her grip on the chain. Paige smirks at the reluctance before pulling back slightly, still hovering over Azzi.

Azzi tilts her head, her fingers fully undoing Paige’s bun that she messed up. “What?”

Paige exhales softly, then says it as casually as if she’s commenting on the weather. “I’m coming to UConn.”

Azzi blinks up at her, the words not quite registering at first. “What?”

Paige chuckles, brushing a loose curl from Azzi’s face. “I’m transferring to UConn.”

The grin that spreads across Azzi’s face is instant and huge, her excitement practically radiating off of her. Without thinking, she wraps her arms around Paige and pulls her into a hug, the force of it making Paige collapse onto her with a laugh.

Azzi holds on tight, her face buried in Paige’s shoulder, her voice muffled as she says, “Are you serious?”

Paige just laughs again, wrapping her arms around Azzi in return. "Yeah. I'm serious."

Azzi pulls back slightly, looking at Paige with surprise. "When did you tell Geno?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

Paige shrugs. "I haven't yet. I wanted to tell you first."

Azzi’s expression softens, a wide grin spreading across her face. "You wanted to tell me first?"

Paige nods, her gaze softening as she meets Azzi’s eyes. "Yeah."

Azzi smirks, leaning up slightly. "Aww, that’s sweet."

Paige rolls her eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "Alright, shut up," she mumbles, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

Azzi chuckles, clearly enjoying the moment. "I’m just saying. It’s cute."

Paige exhales a quiet laugh, rolling her eyes as she mutters, "Whatever," before leaning back down to kiss Azzi.

This time, the kiss is slower, deeper—Paige’s weight pressing into Azzi completely as their lips move in sync. Azzi feels the warmth of Paige’s body against hers, the way Paige’s knee slides in between her legs. She lets herself sink into it, her hands finding their way to Paige’s sides, fingers curling against her skin as she pulls her closer.

The moment is so consuming that it takes a second before Azzi realizes where her hands are—right over the scar. The very place Paige had once pulled her away from, tensing at her touch.

Azzi stills, her breath hitching as she pulls back slightly, ready to apologize, but before she can say a word, she notices that Paige hasn’t moved away.

She’s still there, still hovering over her, her blue eyes looking a little shocked but still soft as they search Azzi’s face. There’s a little hesitation in her eyes but no discomfort—then slowly just a quiet acceptance.

Azzi barely has time to process it before Paige leans back down, capturing her lips in another kiss, deeper this time. It’s slow and almost calculated, as if Paige is telling her without words that it’s okay. That she wants this. That she wants her. At this, Azzi flips them over, her movements instinctual, and suddenly, she’s the one hovering over Paige. Paige lets out a quiet breath of surprise, her blue eyes flickering with something unreadable—something Azzi has come to know all too well.

Azzi doesn’t give her time to think too much. She dips down, trailing her lips along the sharp curve of Paige’s jaw, then lower, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down her neck. Paige licks her lips at the feeling, willing her body to relax beneath Azzi’s as she sighs slightly, her fingers brushing along Azzi’s back.

Azzi smiles against Paige’s chest, taking her time, savoring every second of this—of Paige letting her in, letting her touch her like this. She feels Paige shift slightly beneath her again, feels Paige pulling her closer, and the small action makes something warm bloom in Azzi’s chest.

So she keeps going, kissing down the column of Paige’s throat, feeling her pulse racing beneath her lips, feeling the way Paige’s breath hitches every time she lingers just a second too long.

Paige couldn’t help but sigh at how soft Azzi’s lips felt against her throat, how warm and steady she felt hovering over her. It was effortless—the way Azzi moved, the way she kissed her, like she had all the time in the world. She was making sure to kiss every part of Paige’s neck, every inch of exposed skin, trailing lower with no rush, no hesitation.

Both of them had a soft appreciation for this moment. For Azzi, it was about memorizing Paige like this—unworried by the outside world, just them, just this. And for Paige, it was about allowing herself to let go, even if just for a little while.

She knew, from all their late-night FaceTime calls, that Azzi understood her in a way not many people did. Azzi knew that Paige didn’t like giving up control—that it wasn’t in her nature, that her brain basically screamed at her when she wasn’t in control of something. She knew that Paige always had to be the one holding the reins, the one dictating the pace, the one leading.

But right now, Paige wasn’t doing that.

Right now, she was letting Azzi take the lead. She was willing herself to trust the girl hovering above her. And the way Azzi handled her, with such care and patience, made it feel easier than she thought it would be.

Azzi watches Paige closely as she trails lower, her lips brushing over her skin, her hands smoothing over Paige’s sides. When she glances up, all she sees is Paige with her eyes closed, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. She smiles at the sight, at the trust Paige is giving her, and then she dips back down, kissing every inch of her stomach with the same patience she had when she started.

But when she reaches the scar, she hesitates. Because it’s a tricky thing—she can’t ignore this part of Paige, wouldn’t want to, but she also knows it’s sensitive, both physically and emotionally.

So, she starts slowly. A soft kiss. She feels Paige’s stomach tense slightly beneath her, the smallest shift, but she doesn’t tell her to stop.

So she places another kiss. Then another. Azzi takes her time, shifting her lips along every part of the scar, not missing an inch. She even moves to Paige’s side, making sure to trail her kisses as far as she can.

When she finally looks up, Paige’s eyes are open now, watching Azzi’s every move.

Then, Paige’s hand moves.

Azzi stills when she feels the gentle brush of Paige’s thumb against her cheek. She leans into it instinctively, closing her eyes for a brief second before looking back at her.

Paige is watching her, something unreadable in her expression, but there’s absolutely no hesitation in the way she touches her.

Azzi turns her head slightly, pressing a kiss to Paige’s palm before murmuring, “You okay?”

Paige nods. “Yeah.”

Azzi’s smile is soft as she moves back up, her lips finding Paige’s. As their mouths move together, her hand drifts lower, sliding easily into Paige’s shorts where she runs her fingers against Paige. The touch is barely there, but it pulls a reaction from Paige immediately—a low, involuntary sound escaping her lips.

Azzi chuckles, pulling back just enough to murmur, “You good?”

Paige nods, her breath a little uneven. “Mhm,” she manages, but then Azzi is sliding into Paige, settling completely before she’s pulling them out again agonizingly slow. Paige’s eyelids flutter as she exhales shakily, her voice coming out softer now, more like a whisper. “That feels good…”

Azzi smiles against her lips, happy with the effect she’s having on her. So she keeps the slow pace going, feeling the way Paige subtly arches into each time she curls her fingers. After some time, when she feels Paige getting a little more urgent in her movements, Azzi pulls away from the kiss. Creating just enough space between them to take in Paige’s face fully. To see her reactions.

Paige opens her eyes to look up at her, blue eyes heavy, but locked onto Azzi’s with an intensity that makes Azzi’s breath catch. There’s something about the way she’s looking at her—like she’s completely lost in her.

Azzi’s voice is quiet as she whispers. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Paige swallows hard at that, something deep in her chest tightening, like she might explode under the weight of those words. Her fingers flex against Azzi’s back as she struggles to find a response, but the truth is, she doesn’t need to say anything—Azzi already knows.

The way Azzi is looking at her, like she’s the only thing that matters in the world—makes her heart pound faster. Feeling Azzi move in and out of her almost perfectly, sends a warmth spreading through Paige’s entire body. She feels overwhelmed, not just by the sensation but by the way Azzi is completely focused on her, on every reaction she’s having.

Paige swallows, her throat suddenly dry. “Azzi…” she whispers out, not even sure what she wants to say.

Azzi just smiles, dipping her head down to brush her lips against Paige’s again. “I mean it,” she whispers against her mouth. “You’re so beautiful Paige.”

Paige exhales shakily, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s back, like she needs to hold onto something solid to keep herself from falling apart completely. “…Shut up,” she finally mumbles, but there’s no real bite to it.

Azzi raises her eyebrows, surprised by this response. But then she’s smiling because Paige’s blue eyes are completely hazy, her chest is rising and falling quicker now, her body reacting in ways she’s clearly struggling to control as she throws her head back against the pillow.

“Fuck— I’m sorry, I just—” Paige starts, but she can’t finish, her voice becoming unsteady. Azzi just chuckles, continuing her pace but adding a little pressure as she slides her knee in between Paige’s legs.

“It’s okay,” Azzi reassures her, keeping her voice gentle. “I know.”

But Paige’s breathing only stutters more, her body tense beneath Azzi. Azzi lowers her head near Paige’s ear. “Relax, baby.”

Paige takes a sharp inhale at hearing Azzi whisper in her ear, her fingers gripping Azzi’s arm tightly. Still, she listens—taking a deep unsteady breath, forcing herself to settle.

Azzi kisses the corner of her jaw, feeling the tension in Paige’s body start to unravel beneath her. “That’s it,” she whispers, dragging her lips along Paige’s skin as she speeds up her movements.

Paige swallows hard. “Azzi I—”

“Sshhh,” Azzi soothes, as she adjusts so she has more room to keep her pace. “I know.”

And then Paige is tensing under her all over again.

Paige’s words come out choked, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t think I can…I can’t…it’s—”

Azzi lifts her head, “Look at me,” she murmurs.

Paige forces her eyes open, her eyelids are low and her eyes are unfocused as they lock onto Azzi’s. Once their eyes lock Azzi slows her pace again, curling her fingers perfectly every time she moves. Making sure Paige feels her.

“Just relax for me,” Azzi whispers.

Paige swallows, nodding once, never breaking eye contact as she takes another deep breath. As soon as she does that it hits—her body trembling, breath hitching, fingers tightening against Azzi’s back.

Azzi leans down, immediately taking Paige’s lips in her own, swallowing every shaky breath, every quiet whimper, every moan, until Paige finally starts to settle beneath her.

Before Azzi even knows what’s happening, Paige is flipping them over. When she does this, she’s a lot more feverish than Azzi was, her lips trailing down Azzi’s jaw, sucking and nipping along the way, like she can’t get enough of her.

Azzi, already worked up just from watching Paige, takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “Fuck Paige—”

Paige hums against her skin, the sound vibrating through Azzi’s body.

Azzi exhales shakily. “I really can’t wait. It’s been too long.”

Paige lifts her head, her pupils dilated, she nods once before leaning back down, sealing her lips over Azzi’s again.

Paige easily slides her hand into Azzi’s pajama shorts and groans when there’s no other barrier and she immediately feels how ready Azzi is for her. Paige whispers out, “Fuck baby, why you didn’t tell me.” Before Azzi can respond Paige is easily sliding her fingers into Azzi.

As soon as Paige does this, Azzi’s breath hitches, and she mumbles, “Oh god.” Paige smirks, feeling the heat radiating from Azzi’s body as she easily takes her in.

Azzi, already feeling the tug in her stomach, grabs Paige’s waist and pulls her closer, the weight of Paige on top of her having Azzi closing her eyes in relief. She runs her hands up and down Paige’s back, her breath growing shallow. “I miss you so much,” Azzi murmurs.

Paige leans down to kiss her. “I miss you, too pretty girl,” she replies softly.

Azzi exhales a quiet, needy sound at the nickname, she wraps her arms tightly around Paige’s shoulders and hooks her legs around Paige’s waist, using the leverage to pull her closer. A low groan escapes her lips as Paige presses deeper into her, her fingers tangling into Paige’s hair seeking any piece of her she can get.

A few moments later, Azzi’s phone rings from the nightstand, popping the bubble they created. The first time, Azzi ignores it, her attention completely on the way Paige is making her feel, but then it rings again. Again, she ignores it, letting Paige continue, her hands never leaving Paige’s head, but when it rings a third time, Azzi can’t ignore it anymore.

With a deep sigh, she reaches over to grab the phone, still breathing unevenly from the way Paige feels inside of her. She glances at the screen and sees Caroline’s name flashing.

Azzi sighs again, this time louder, her chest tightening. Paige, noticing the change, starts to shift off of her, but Azzi grabs her, shaking her head, “No… don’t,” she says softly, pushing Paige’s head into her neck. Paige is a little surprised at this but she complies with what Azzi wants as she starts placing open mouth kisses to Azzi’s neck, curling her fingers as she does it.

Reluctantly, Azzi answers the phone, her voice completely breathy as she says, “Yes, Caroline?”

Caroline’s voice comes through the phone. “You have 15 minutes.” And before Azzi can respond, Caroline hangs up, already knowing exactly what Azzi is doing.

Azzi throws her phone somewhere and immediately pulls Paige back into a kiss, this time more urgent. Both of them are aware of the time slipping away, and the need to be close is almost overwhelming.

Paige, knowing what she needs to do to speed the process up for Azzi, adjusts so she can use her thumb adding slow soft circles to the mix as she continues to curl her fingers.

It doesn’t take long for Azzi’s body to shake under Paige’s touch, her breath coming in shallow bursts as her hands tighten around Paige. She tries to speak, but the words don’t come out clearly, her chest heaving with every shaky exhale.

“P-Paige…Yes—” she stammers, struggling to find her voice as Paige’s continues to work in and out of her, drawing another tremor from her. “Fuck—” Her hands find Paige’s back, trying to pull her impossibly closer, her fingers digging into her skin as she gasps. “I… want you... so much...”

Azzi’s words slip into a breathless murmur, almost incoherent. Paige slows her rhythm as she helps Azzi ride out the sensation, her smile growing as she watches her.

“You have me,” Paige whispers, pressing her forehead to Azzi’s as they both savor the moment.

They stay just like that for a second, both of them breathing deeply, still feeling the weight of each other. There’s a quiet, unspoken understanding between them as they both lay there, hearts still racing in sync.

Paige breaks the silence with a soft murmur, “You gotta go.”

Azzi exhales slowly, her body still warm beneath Paige’s, but the words don’t seem to make her move just yet. She pulls Paige closer instead, pressing a kiss to her lips before she mumbles, “I know.”

Even as she says it, Azzi’s hands tangle in Paige’s hair, and the kiss turns more urgent. The heat between them grows again, their lips moving together perfectly, tasting each other in a way that seems to say they’re not ready to let go, not yet.

But eventually, Azzi pulls away, her chest rising and falling. She gives Paige one last lingering look before she’s tapping her to stand up. Once Paige rolls off of her, Azzi stands, stretching and crossing the room to grab Paige’s discarded shirt from the floor, easily slipping it over her head.

Paige smirks, her eyes following Azzi’s every movement, and as she stands up from the bed she says. “Look at you, putting on my shirt. Ms. ‘Don’t get used to it.’”

Azzi rolls her eyes, as she slips her Uggs back on. Paige mirrors the move, grabbing her phone and keycard, ready to walk Azzi upstairs.

Azzi’s voice breaks the quiet. “You’re not going to put on a shirt?”

Paige laughs, glancing down at herself. “You kinda sorta stole mine.”

Azzi laughs softly, nodding. “Fair enough.” She watches as Paige glances at herself in the mirror, her jaw tightening just slightly before she looks toward Azzi.

“I should be fine. It’s pretty late.”

Azzi nods, grabbing her hand and the two of them step out of the room, walking down the hall toward the elevator. The walk feels too short and they reach Azzi’s door before they know it.

Azzi reaches out first, pulling Paige toward her in one more kiss. It's slow, a little messy—her lips pressing against Paige's with a delicate urgency. Azzi’s arms slide over Paige’s shoulders, her fingers playing with the hair at the back of Paige’s neck and Paige responds, her hands wrapping around Azzi’s waist, pulling her in closer.

But then the door to Azzi’s room swings open, and Caroline peeks her head out. She doesn’t seem surprised by what she sees, “You deadass have like a minute.”

Like most people, because humans truly can’t help it, her eyes flicker down to Paige’s exposed torso, and Paige immediately notices the look.

The moment shifts, the lightness of Paige’s energy almost vanishing as she steps back from Azzi. Her jaw tightens, her fingers subconsciously starting to fiddle with the ring on her finger. She clears her throat, putting a little more distance between them. “I’ll text you, okay?” she says, her voice quieter now, and Azzi nods, understanding the sudden shift.

Paige takes one last look at Azzi, giving her a small smile then turns to walk away.

As Azzi and Caroline walk into the suite. Caroline watches as Azzi shuts the door and as soon as Azzi starts walking towards her bed, Caroline can’t help herself. “What was that?” she asks, her voice light with curiosity.

Azzi glances at her but doesn’t pause in her movement. “That was a kiss,” she answers simply.

Caroline raises an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with that response. She shifts slightly on the couch. “Obviously. But I’m not talking about that.”

Azzi stops in her tracks, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed. She takes a breath, turns, and faces Caroline. “Then what was what?”

Caroline is persistent, but her tone is soft and inquisitive, rather than pushy. “She had this huge scar on her side. I saw it when you were...you know. What’s going on with that?” Caroline’s eyes flicker with concern, showing she’s not trying to pry in a harsh way.

“It’s nothing,” Azzi says simply, keeping her voice neutral.

Caroline frowns, not convinced. “Azzi, that’s not nothing,” she says gently. “Is she okay?”

Azzi finally looks at Caroline. “She is.”

Caroline senses the finality in Azzi’s words and nods slowly, her curiosity still piqued, but understanding that Azzi isn’t going to share more. “Alright. I get it,” Caroline says, leaning back on the couch, not pressing any further.

True to Paige's word, as Azzi climbs into bed, her phone buzzes. She picks it up with a smile, seeing Paige's name light up the screen. Her fingers quickly swipe across the screen.

Paige💗You good?

Azzi reads the text and replies with a single word, followed by another.

Azzi <3 Course

Azzi <3 Why wouldn’t I be?

A few moments later, Paige responds.

Paige💗We kinda rushed for you.

Azzi’s chest warms a little at that. She pauses before texting back.

Azzi <3 You’re sweet

Azzi <3 Truly

Azzi <3 But the word "quickie" exists for a reason

Paige’s reaction comes through quickly — adding a laughing reaction to the message. Before adding

Paige💗Just wanted to make sure.

As Paige and Azzi continue their text exchange, a knock at the door interrupts the rhythm of the conversation for a second. Caroline glances over before moving to answer it, pulling the door open just enough to see who’s there.

CD stands in the hallway, her expression neutral as she steps just inside the room. Her gaze scans the space, quickly landing on Azzi sitting up on her bed, phone in hand. CD gives a small, satisfied nod, completing her room check, but her eyes linger for a second longer when she notices the shirt Azzi is wearing—the familiar bold Minnesota lettering printed across the front.

If CD has any thoughts about it, she doesn’t voice them. Instead, she offers a simple, “Goodnight, girls.” She doesn’t wait for a response, turning on her heel and pulling the door shut behind her.

Azzi chuckles under her breath, shaking her head slightly before turning her attention back to her phone, her fingers resuming their steady taps against the screen. Her smile growing as she sends another message to Paige.

Meanwhile, Caroline moves through the dim room, flipping off the last light before climbing into her bed.

Azzi remains awake, the faint glow of her phone illuminating her face as she continues the constant back-and-forth with Paige.

[thefluxsystem]

10 mindsets about my DID that have helped my system:

[This is solely for the sake of sharing experiences & supplying food for thought. This post is not implying these takes are the “right way” to view systemhood.]

1. We’re individuals and we’re parts of a whole. We see each other as people in our system, but in a different way than those in their own bodies. We share a brain. We share a life. I’m me, but I’m also him/her/them at the same time. If you take a piece out of a puzzle, it doesn’t cease to exist, right? It’s still its own object. It just doesn’t make much sense when it stands alone. We need each other to be truly complete.

2. Time keeps coming. I know it’s not an unlimited resource, but it’s not scarce either. Okay, so somebody in the system didn’t get to do what they planned today. They’ll do it tomorrow. No big deal. No need to fight about it or stress over “how I’ll ever manage all this”. We’ll simply give it another shot in the morning.

3. Reality is subjective. We’re a very philosophically-inclined system, and I could write books on what “reality is subjective” means. Basically, reality is based on perception. On a societal level, it is based in the common agreement of what something is. If anyone’s perception tests the limits of this common agreement, it is labeled as untrue. This ties into why DID is largely disbelieved; it doesn’t fit in with the common reality (perception) of the average person. So it is seen as fake. And, well, if I’m going to be told I’m wrong for the most basic, inherent part of this disorder… I don’t really care if they disagree with any other aspect of it. My reality is different. That’s okay.

4. There is no original. I strongly believe the Theory of Structural Dissociation. Maybe science will prove it wrong with a more suitable theory to take its place in the future, but it’s what I roll with at the moment. Now, to us, this translates as “there is no original/we were all the original”. We’re Adventure Time fans, so we think of it like the “Mother Gum”. If all of the Mother Gum broke off into people (like PB & Neddy), no specific one of them would be “the original”. Rather, they’d all be repurposed parts of the original whole. (In a less serious way, we like to say “we all came from the primordial personality soup”.)

5. Our body is shared equally. We’ve decided our body has its own identity & “look” that helps represent us as a whole, but doesn’t take after one member specifically. In a gnawingly self-aware way, I know this is a further form of dissociation. But adopting this view changed a lot for us in a positive way. We don’t fight about hair or clothes anymore, we don’t have discomfort around our legal name, we don’t even really have struggles with gender/sexuality anymore. (We identify differently internally, but externally we identify as nonbinary & bisexual. Even if the person fronting at the moment is, for example, a gay man.)

6. Be open-minded to what happens internally. Seems straightforward enough, but we’ve wasted a lot of time trying to “make rules” for each other in the system. The biggest example I can think of is in-system dating. Around 10 years ago, as we became more aware of each other, it became clear that two system members were basically in love. We immediately became defensive. We told them that they couldn’t do that, that two system members being together was absurd & “impossible”. (This view became stronger after discovering online system spaces & “fakeclaimers” that come with it.) Though we regret it now, we shamed those two a lot in the hopes they’d drop it. They didn’t. About 3 years later it became an actual problem. They didn’t trust us; they were fronting & we were coming back to absolutely no memory of it (we usually have a vague idea at least). Eventually, they wrote us a whole thing about how they were going to be together & there was really nothing anyone could do about it, seeing as we couldn’t technically keep them apart. In modern day, we’ve had an in-system couple recently fuse. Upon reflection, we were standing in the way of genuine healing by trying to break up the first two, and we did so solely out of shame. As long as it isn’t genuinely causing harm, we try to be accepting of each other these days. This applies to a lot of other aspects; how system members appear internally, the pronouns and/or identity labels they choose, anything to do with how system members engage with each other, our differing individual perceptions of an event, etc.

7. We don’t have to like each other, but we do have to love each other. Mostly because, if we don’t, we’re holding hatred for ourself. There are certainly members of my system I would never choose to befriend if we were actually separate people, but we’re not, and we don’t get to act like we are. So even though it’s hard, I’m learning to love every piece that makes up “me”, no matter how difficult they try to make it at times.

8. Nobody’s system works like mine except for mine. Meaning, no two systems are going to be alike, and experiences aren’t often going to translate perfectly. This is true for people who aren’t systems as well— everyone’s experience is going to be different, because nobody is wired exactly the same way. Once I took that to heart, it became easier to focus on my own way of being. I could take the pieces of represented/online systemhood that resonate with me & leave the rest (which probably resonates with someone else).

9. There’s a reason for everything. This kind of ties back into the ‘we have to love each other’ thing. Each component of the system is a clue regarding how to move forward. We had someone in the system getting really uptight & controlling, to a point that it was irritating, but, taking a step back, we recognized it was a response to feeling a lack of control. Instead of simply getting angry at him for how he was acting, we were able to address the problem. My collective self is more laid-back for it.

10. It’s okay not to focus on it all. DID is a part of my life for the rest of it, whether I like it or not, but it’s nice to let it be a background thing every once in a while. Who’s fronting? Who cares. What roles do we have? I don’t know. Who’s this new person in my head? I’ll figure it out later. We’re making it through as a team, and sometimes that’s enough.

[setmeatopthepyre]

WIP wednesday tagged by the amazing @rcmclachlan and @agentpeggycartering <3 thank you!

here is some more from the fic formerly known as phosphorescence, now renamed pothos | pathos or pothos fic for short. follows [this]

-

Eddie worries about Buck.

And, if he lets himself think about it, he feels a little guilty for only worrying about Buck now, and not before.

Sure, he'd felt bad for the guy when Tommy dumped him but, well, Buck had been dumped before. He always ended up fine.

Maybe Eddie should have caught on earlier to the ways things were different this time around. Part of that was because Tommy was his friend, and that made things a little awkward, but he'd figured out soon enough that if he just... avoided talking with Tommy about Buck and with Buck about Tommy, it was... fine. He was just a little more vague about it when he had plans with either of them. Easy.

It wasn't exactly like he didn't have anything else on his mind, what with Christopher speaking to him in actual multi-word sentences these days and the whole El Paso house hunt.

Still, he should have probably caught on the fact that it was weird, how easy it was to avoid the subject of Tommy around Buck. At least, in depth.

Sure, Buck talked a lot about how he wanted to reach out, how he'd seen Tommy bubble him again, and the baking... well, the baking spoke for itself. Still, it had taken Buck a full week to share any sort of details as to why he and Tommy had broken up, how it had happened. Even then, Buck had been pretty closed off about it.

And then Buck just... kept baking. And, okay, sue Eddie, it hadn't pinged anything at first because Buck has a tendency to get a little intense about things in general. Until now, those things usually only lasted for a short period of time before Buck wore himself out and things went right back to normal. Or he would go on to the next thing, which, for Buck, was normal.

But the baking went on, so Eddie had figured, hey, Buck had a new hobby. It was a way to cope that wasn't unhealthy for anyone except the people he kept trying to pawn his pastries off to. He was keeping local businesses running with his shopping habits. Buck was keeping himself busy, processing his emotions in a way that didn't involve suing the department or having to be bailed out of jail. You know, all good things. So surely it was fine.

But now... the Tommy thing.

Eddie had kept in contact with Tommy. They'd kept up their weekly hangouts and it hadn't been awkward, because they didn't talk about it. Tommy had looked a little more rough around the edges and he was a little quieter than he had been, but Eddie could tell he was dealing with it in his own way. Their sparring got an extra edge of intensity to it and Eddie enjoyed the extra challenge. Figured if Tommy wanted to talk, he'd talk. But he didn't, so they didn't. Easy as that.

Eddie thought it was, well, fine.

But now Buck is very clearly not fine, and Eddie just watches and sips his coffee while Buck gestures emphatically as he says something to Maddie.

“Have you talked to him?”

Chimney appears by his side and Eddie very nearly inhales his next sip. “Holy-- Chim, stop sneaking up on people like that.”

“Well, have you?”

Eddie dabs at his shirt, trying to figure if he's going to need to change or if the dark blue fabric masks the coffee stain well enough. Glances over to find Chimney still standing next to him, also watching Maddie and Buck.

“You talking about Buck, or Tommy?” Eddie finally asks.

“Either, or.”

“Talked to Tommy day before yesterday. He seemed fine.”

“What about Buck?” Chim says, turning towards Eddie. “Has he... talked to you?”

Somehow Eddie suspects he doesn't mean just in general. “About...?”

“His... theory.”

Eddie frowns. “No, he hasn't mentioned a theory. What kind of theory?”

Chimney ignores his question. “Nothing about Tommy seeming... off?”

“No, I...” Eddie hesitates, thinks back. “Well, he has been asking a lot more questions. But like, trying to be subtle about it, you know?”

Chimney hums.

Eddie casts him a sidelong glance. “Why? What'd he say to you?”

“I probably shouldn't say,” Chimney says. He's fidgeting. Eddie waits him out.

All it takes is a single raised eyebrow on his part and one glance up from Chimney, and Chim cracks. “Fine, but this stays between us, alright?” He glances around them. “He thinks Tommy isn't Tommy.”

Eddie lets the words sink in. Waits for them to make sense. They don't. “What the hell does that mean?”

“See? That's what I asked him, but he couldn't explain it. Just said he wasn't acting like himself.”

Eddie considers this. “I mean, he has seemed a little different, recently.”

“Different how?”

Eddie thinks its a good thing Buck isn't here to hear it, honestly felt guilty about even noticing it, before. “Honestly? Tommy seems... better.”

“Better how?”

Eddie shrugs again. “Calmer? Like he's actually getting some sleep these days.”

“Shit,” Chimney huffs.

“Yeah.”

“Don't tell Buck that.”

“Wasn't planning to.”

They finish their coffee in silence.

-

big big shout out to the one and only @hubcaphalo for the input re: eddie pov

no pressure wip wednesday tags for @trombonechurchill @geddyqueer @sugarpenchant @ambernotember @leashybebes @beanarie @bidisasterevankinard @iphyslitterator

tag list for those who requested tags for this fic under the cut ↓

@fiyaerrigan @bisexualbrainrots @leashybebes @louuieferrignojr @rubydaiquiri @teabroomsandbooks @crimsonwildcat-blog @sweaters-and-silly @nochance-noway @manifestingchaoticvibes @hyperfocusthusly @frogsinflannel @beanarie @rcmclachlan @sad-girl-hours23 @ambernotember @apartmentsmoke

let me know if you wanna be added or removed!

[krirebr]

Still Life 2

Pairing: Alpha Curtis Everett x Omega Female Reader

Word Count: ~5.9k

Summary: Curtis has been volunteering as a foster alpha for three years now. He's never seen a case this bad...

Warnings: Heavy angst (with an eventual happy ending), past abuse (not Curtis), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, physical scarring, extreme sexism (both external and internal), adult themes, referenced past non-con (including but not limited to somnophilia, partner-sharing, and drugging), fear of non-con, the slowest burn I've done yet. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me this time!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: Here am I, the angst fairy, coming to really bum you out right before Valentine's Day! You're welcome? 😂 But seriously, friends, this is a rough one, so please read the warnings and take care of yourself!

A huge thanks to @bigtreefest who talked through so much of this with me, and @stargazingfangirl18 who helped me figure out the particulars of how alpha/omega dynamics work in this world (both for this part and going forward)!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

You should’ve expected this. It was exactly what they’d always said would happen. That the government abhorred personal freedom and one day they would come to try to take everything the alphas had built for themselves. They wanted to seize all the land and the guns and capture the omegas to sell them off to the highest bidder or put them in a breeding program. 

But before, whenever the topic came up, whichever alpha was ranting against big government, be it Franco, Wilford, or your father, would inevitably turn to what would happen when the government pigs came to take what was theirs. The mindless troops would be met with guns and fire and pure alpha might. And they’d learn what happened when you messed with true alphas.

But that wasn’t what happened, was it? No. That wasn’t what led to you standing in the middle of your new alpha’s house. You should count yourself lucky, you supposed, that you hadn’t ended up in a breeding program—horror stories about those programs used to keep you up at night as a teenager. Stories whispered among the omegas, a reminder of how lucky you all were to be safe in the compound.

You hadn’t felt safe for a long time, but you weren’t sure you’d ever been in this much danger. You were completely on your own, given away to one of the biggest alphas you’d ever seen. Much bigger than Franco or Wilford. You’d never be able to fight him. He’d be able to hurt you even worse than either of them.

That was all you could think about as he showed you around his house. You didn’t know why he was bothering. You were sure you’d only need to know where his bedroom and the kitchen were. 

But still, he showed you the living room, the bathrooms, a room he called his home office. It was outside of that room that he stopped and turned to you. “I work from home,” he said, his voice a steady rumble. “So I’ll be around if you ever need me. I just ask that you knock first before coming in if I’m working. Okay?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you said by rote, but your mind was racing. He would always be here. You’d never get a break. There’d be no way to hide anything from him. Even Franco had left the house every day to go about his business, whatever that was. Sure, you still had Martha trying to know all of your secrets, but as long as you did the chores and kept the pups out of her way, you could deal with her. And as much as you hated Franco’s First Omega, she was still better than him.

At the thought of your Alpha, you swore the mark on your neck throbbed. Where was he now? Locked up? Dead?? Did it even matter? He wasn’t actually your alpha anymore. He used to talk sometimes about how before civilization when it was everyone out for themselves in the wilderness and omegas were scarce, stronger alphas would kill weaker ones and steal their omegas, biting over the existing mark. He’d laugh when he described the ravaged state of an omega’s neck bearing mark after mark until she was finally captured by an alpha strong enough to keep her. He always looked at you when he said that last part, at your mark. 

But he hadn’t been strong enough to keep you, had he? Not in the end. None of them had been.

The alpha had moved on down the hall and you scrambled to keep up with him. He stopped in front of a doorway, blocking your view inside. “This is my room,” he said.

You took a deep breath. Okay. It was time then. You could do this. You could be a good omega. You waited for him to move into the room so you could follow, but instead, he gestured to the room behind you. “And that one’s yours.” 

It took you a moment to understand what he’d said. Then you slowly turned around, confused, to find a small bedroom. Without thinking, you took a few tentative steps inside. It was bright, the sun streaming in through the curtains. There was a bed in the center of the room, covered in a dove gray quilt with flowers stitched into it. There was a collection of dusty rose pillows covering the top third, in all sorts of shapes and sizes. A plush-looking chair in a similar color was tucked into the corner. There was a big window set into the far wall. Sheer curtains softly billowed over it. Two bins were stacked beneath it. Against the perpendicular wall, sat a short dresser made of dark wood, and next to it a small closet. Across from that, you could see a little ensuite bathroom. All of it was much nicer than the little room with the thin cots that you used to share with Martha and Emmy when any one of you wasn’t in Franco’s bed. You couldn’t understand why he was giving it to you. Just you. As far as you could tell, there weren’t any other omegas here. It was much too nice for you on your own.

You turned back to him, hoping to find some clues there, but he had the same vaguely soft look on his face he’d had since you’d first walked into the room at the center you’d first been brought to. You didn’t like that look, didn’t know what to do with it. It’d drop soon anyway. You knew it would. The waiting was the worst part.

You dropped your gaze when he cleared his throat. “There’s nesting supplies in those two bins under the window. With or without alpha scent. So you can go ahead and make yourself comfortable.”

You blinked at the two bins he’d gestured to. You didn’t understand what he wanted you to do, but you nodded anyway with a quiet, “Yes, Alpha.”

He hovered in the doorway, not taking even one step into the room. “Are you still hungry?” he asked.

You shook your head. He’d stopped and gotten you a breakfast sandwich on the way to his house and had let you eat it in his truck. You’d eaten it quickly so he couldn’t change his mind, extremely careful not to get any crumbs on his upholstery. 

He sighed and you were gripped by panic that you may have disappointed him. You had no idea how you might have done that but this wouldn’t be the first time that an alpha’s expectations had been unknowable to you. But he didn’t say anything about it or make any move to punish you. You kept a wary eye on him anyway.

“Well,” he said, taking a step back into the hallway. “I have some calls to make and a little work to do. I know you’ve had a long night, so I’ll let you rest for a bit. But please come get me if you need anything.” 

“Yes, Alpha,” you whispered, knowing for a fact that you would do absolutely everything you could not to disturb him. An omega’s job was to make her alpha’s life easier, to bring him pleasure. Omegas didn’t need things. They should never be that selfish. You would show this alpha how good you could be. To protect yourself, you’d do whatever you could.

He looked at you, a furrow between his brows, then just nodded and walked down the hall. You waited for a moment to make sure he didn’t come back. When he didn’t, you carefully made your way around the room. You placed your knapsack on the chair in the corner and took out the only other dress you’d managed to grab on your way out of Franco’s house to hang up in the closet. It looked pathetic, hanging by itself. You took off your shoes and placed them underneath it. Finally, you took the little friendship bracelet out of it’s hiding place at the bottom of the bag. You reverently set it on the dresser, the little ballerina charm Grace had managed to sneak into the house for you hanging off the wood. 

You turned towards the two bins against the wall. The alpha clearly wanted you to do something with them but you had no idea what. You gingerly opened the first bin and were immediately hit by the strong scent of cedar and leather and alpha, the same scent that had engulfed you in his truck and subtly permeated this house. But this bin was like being slapped in the face with it. You couldn’t breathe. You closed it as fast as you could. You were even more cautious as you opened the second bin, but you weren’t struck by any strong scents as you removed the lid that time. You looked inside to find a collection of blankets and pillows. You carefully touched one to find the softest blanket you’d ever felt. Without thinking, you brought it out of the box and buried your face in it, as tears pricked at your eyes. You didn't want to cry anymore. It wouldn't change anything. 

You pulled the blanket after you as you climbed onto the bed. You’d been awake for most of the last twenty-four hours and you could finally feel the adrenaline leeching out of you. The intense fear was still there, but it could no longer overpower your extreme exhaustion. You wrapped the blanket around yourself and quickly fell asleep.

You weren’t sure what exactly had woken you up, but your heart was already racing. Nightmares you couldn’t remember but could still feel were wrapped around you. You sat up and tried to force yourself to breathe. You weren’t in the compound anymore. You never would be again. You wished that could be a comfort to you, but now you were surrounded by unknown threats and dangers. You shouldn’t be so upset. This was just what happened to omegas. You’d been suddenly uprooted from your home before, dropped somewhere you didn’t know anything or anyone. It’d probably happen again. Especially if you didn’t do everything you could to please this alpha.

You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself. It was one of the softest things you’d ever felt. You almost felt safe in this little cocoon you’d made yourself. Then you saw movement in the open doorway.

The alpha stood there, knocking softly on the door, something tucked under one arm. “Hey, I thought you might be awake,” he said, his voice quieter than you’d ever heard an alpha speak before. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you said immediately, even as you felt that fear rising in your chest again. You didn’t know why he was asking.

He stopped and looked at you carefully, which made you shrink down as much as you could. He sighed with a small grimace. “On second thought, how ‘bout you come join me in the living room? Whenever you’re ready.” 

He took off down the hall, and, after you’d carefully put the blanket away, you followed him. He stood in the middle of the cozy room. “Sit wherever you’d like,” he said. 

You looked at the two plush couches and the recliner with panic. Was this a test? Was there a right answer? Where would he sit? You never would have sat before Franco. That would have gotten you in so much trouble. Was this alpha trying to trick you?

After a few moments, he softly called your name. “You can sit on that couch, if you want,” he said, gesturing to the larger of the two sofas. You let out a sigh of relief as you sat where he pointed. He sat on the other side of the same couch, giving you plenty of space, then took out what he’d been holding under his arm, revealing it to be a laptop, like Franco Jr used to have. He opened it and held it out to you. “You need more clothes. We have a stipend from the Center to get you the things you need so don't worry about the cost. Do you know how online shopping works?” You just sort of shrugged unsure of what the right answer was. You knew how to use a computer, but Franco had made sure none of his omegas ever had any access to his money, as was his right as the Alpha. “That’s fine,” he said, then showed you the buttons you needed to press to make an order. Then, inconceivably, he passed the computer over to you. “Pick out whatever you like, then if it’s all available at a local store, we’ll hopefully be able to get it delivered by tonight.” Then he sat back, giving you space.

You looked at the webpage in front of you, filled with dozens of pictures of models in different pieces of clothing. The title at the top of the page said Omega Loungewear, but as you scrolled down through the pictures, you couldn’t understand why. None of this was appropriate for omegas. There were leggings and shorts, t-shirts and tank tops, big baggy sweaters, something called bralettes that you couldn’t believe they were just showing pictures of right out in the open. There were some cotton dresses that might be ok, depending on what the alpha wanted, but he hadn’t told you. He wanted you to know. He wanted you to be good. To prove it. And everything was available in different colors and patterns and you didn’t know how many you were supposed to pick out or what he wanted or– 

You hadn’t realized your breathing had picked up until he was kneeling in front of you. “Hey,” he said very gently, his hands held out in front of him but not touching you, “hey, it’s okay. You’re alright. Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

You gulped. You were being a stupid omega. This was why omegas shouldn’t make decisions. You lifted the laptop up and passed it back to him. “I don’t know, Alpha,” you said very quietly, nodding to the computer. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no need for apologies, it’s totally fine.” He stopped to think, then with a grimace and a sigh, “Would you like me to pick out some things for you and order them?”

You slumped in relief. He’d know what was okay for you to get. You wouldn’t have to guess. “Yes, Alpha. Thank you, Alpha.”

“That’s another–” he shook his head sadly. “You don’t– You don’t need to address me as alpha. You can call me Curtis, or, or anything. You can call me whatever you want. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

That was definitely a trick. Calling him anything other than Alpha was 100% not allowed. You had the marks on your body to prove it. Omegas might have been stupid, but you were smart for your kind and you wouldn’t fall for this just to be punished. After everything that had happened, you had more self-preservation than that.

“Yes, Alpha,” you said, your eyes on the ground. 

He let out another heavy sigh. “Right,” he said, as he stood up. “I had lunch while you were sleeping, but I set some aside for you. Let me go get it, And then we can” he looked around, flaring his arms to the side, “I don’t know. Watch TV, I guess?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you said, quietly, still not looking at him.

He sighed again. This alpha sighed a lot. He was disappointed in you. He just stood there for a long moment. You could feel him looking at you. You sank back into the couch, trying to make yourself as small as possible. There was another sigh, then, “I’ll be right back.” He turned on the TV as he left the room, leaving the remote within your reach, but you didn’t dare touch it. Another trap.

Franco had had a big TV. He watched a lot of sports and news shows hosted by strong alpha men that talked about how the government was trying to strip alphas of their rightful power. Sometimes there were pretty blonde beta and omega women there to say the same thing. There were other news channels too, but they were all secretly owned by the government and only told lies. 

When Franco was gone, Martha used to sneak into the living room to watch her stories while you and Emmy did chores or took the younger pups outside. You never joined her; she and Emmy would just yell at you for being lazy if you tried. 

So, now, you did your best to ignore whatever was playing until a voice caught your attention. “On tonight’s Eyewitness News at 5, government agencies raid an alpha supremacist group calling themselves The Snowpiercer Collective–” You felt your heartrate pick up. On the screen were images of the compound—the storage barns, the meeting hall, Wilford’s house. Then video of the people in their tactical gear with initials you didn’t understand on their backs holding guns and–

You weren’t sure what had woken you up first, the dogs barking or the sound of guns being fired. Emmy was standing over you, her eyes wide with panic, while Martha screamed behind her for both of you to get your lazy asses moving and get the pups. You didn’t know what was going on. None of you had been in Franco’s bed that night, which meant your little room was full and you’d had to sleep on the floor while the other two claimed the cots. You were stiff and slow and confused as you tried to get moving, still half-asleep. As you cut through the living room to get to the pups’ rooms—you could hear the youngest ones sobbing—you saw that it was still pitch black out, but then the sky would briefly light up with a loud crack of whatever was being fired much too close to your home for comfort. What was happening? Who was there? Where was Franco? He’d left the night before to go play poker with some of the other alphas, so more likely than not, he’d passed out somewhere in the compound before he’d been able to drunkenly stumble home. It’d been a relief that night, but now it meant that you were all completely defenseless from whoever was attacking you.

The three of you gathered the children and tried to herd them out the back door, toward the entrance to the bunker that was about twenty feet behind the house. But as soon as you opened the door, you were met with a full SWAT team and everyone was screaming and their guns were pointed at you and–

“Shit!”

The alpha’s voice brought you back to the present. You were on the floor. You were in your new alpha’s house and you were on the floor. The TV was off and he was crouched in front of you, the remote still in his hand. Your face was wet, tears streaming down your cheeks. You weren’t in the compound anymore, but that didn’t make you feel any safer. He was trying to talk to you, saying something, his tone gentle, but you couldn’t process his words. You were scared and you were tired. And you knew it was bad, you knew it wasn’t what you should do, but you were out of energy and you couldn’t stop yourself from curling up into a ball on the floor and finally sobbing like you’d wanted to since you’d been put into the back of that SWAT van.

You weren’t sure if you woke up, so much as just came to. There was a blanket draped over you—it’d been on the couch, maybe—and a pillow pushed under your head. The alpha must have done it, but you couldn’t imagine him taking such care with you. You could hear the murmurs of a one-sided conversation coming from the other room. 

You slowly sat up. Your eyes hurt and your mouth was dry. You were making a very bad impression on your new alpha. What must he think of you? You would have to work very hard over the next few days to show him that you did actually know how to be a good omega. You would do better.

The alpha took that moment to appear at the entrance to the living room. He held a phone to his ear. “I gotta go, Tanya. I’ll talk to you soon.” He put his phone in the back pocket of his jeans as he took a few steps into the room, then stopped. He stared at you and you dropped your gaze to the floor. You did your very best to keep your breaths even. It was always the worst with Franco when you couldn’t predict him, and you had no idea what this alpha would do.

He cleared his throat. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. Before you were able to figure out the best answer to that question, he shook his head. “No, that’s– that’s a stupid question, I know.” He crouched down so he was closer to your level while still several feet away. “Look, I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through, but I want to help you, ok? However I can, I’m here to help you.”

Your mind was racing. Why would he say that? To trick you, a little voice inside you said. That had to be it. Wilford had done that too. Pretended to be friendly and kind and helpful. Until he stopped pretending and you learned who he really was. You shivered at the memory of him. You’d learned your lesson. You wouldn’t be surprised again.

He stayed like that for a few moments, while you kept your head down and didn’t move. Finally he stood up. “I ordered some food. It should be here soon. And your clothes came. So if you want, you could put them away while we wait, and then join me in the kitchen for dinner?”

“Yes, Alpha,” you said quietly as you made yourself stand up. He followed suit and walked into the kitchen where he picked up two canvas bags with the same logo on them and handed them to you. You peered inside. You couldn’t see the shape of the clothes yet, but you could tell there were many items, all in soft pastel colors. 

“I had to make some guesses on sizing,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “And, uh, well. It looks like the clothes you currently have maybe don’t fit you quite right? So. So these might feel different.”

You ducked your head. The dress you were wearing had been Martha’s. Your shoes had been Emmy’s. They pinched your toes. Being third omega meant having to make do with what you were given. Even as a kid, everything you’d had had belonged to your older sisters first. You didn’t think you’d ever been the first person to wear something.

You clutched the bags to your chest and whispered, “Thank you, Alpha,” before hurrying down the hall to the bedroom you’d been given. You checked each item as you put it away. Leggings, t-shirts, sweaters, shorts, all made from some of the softest material you’d ever felt. He wouldn’t have gone so far as to spend actual money if it was just a trick or a test, would he? You’d done what you were supposed to, you’d let him choose, so even though these weren’t the clothes you were used to, it’d be okay to wear them, wouldn’t it? You worried your bottom lip. He’d picked them out. This was what he wanted.

At the sound of the doorbell, you hurried back out and arrived in the kitchen as he approached the small table with a short stack of flat, square boxes. “I hope pizza’s okay,” he said. “I got a couple different kinds, so hopefully there’s something you like.”

You didn’t respond. You were good at taking what was given to you. You stood next to the table and waited as he arranged the boxes and put a plate in front of each of you. You didn’t sit down until he did. He opened one of the boxes and gestured to its contents. “Help yourself,” he said. You kept your hands in your lap until he placed a slice on his own plate. Then you grabbed one from the same box. Once he took a bite, you started eating. It was so good. Much better than the frozen pizzas you would occasionally have at the compound. And as soon as you started eating, you realized you were starving. You hadn’t really had lunch, distracted by your ridiculous freakout. You inhaled your first slice, then stared at the box, wondering if it was worth the risk to try to take more. The alpha must have seen you looking because he took two more pieces from the box and placed them on your plate. “Have as much as you want,” he said. “There’s plenty to go around.” 

After a few more minutes of eating in silence, the alpha stood up abruptly, the back legs of his chair scraping loudly against the floor. You jumped in your seat and tried to make yourself small as he briefly loomed over you. 

He moved to the counter and came right back with the little cardboard box the Omega at the center had tried to give you. You shrank back as he held it out to you. “I almost forgot,” he said, “here are the suppressants if you want to start taking them tonight.”

You froze. You tried to force your hand to take the pills from him, but your limbs refused to move. You remembered the first time you'd been sent to Wilford, the High Alpha, the little white pill he'd given you. “To help,” he'd said. But it'd just made you feel tired, loose, disconnected from your body. Defenseless when he'd– Or other times, different pills, different colors and shapes, that'd made you feel like you were going into heat even though it wasn't time yet. That'd made you need things you didn't actually want. And the way Wilford had smiled at you and– 

Your new alpha was looking at you curiously, the pack of pills still in his hand, a mask of concern on his face. You needed to take it. An alpha was giving you something. You should take it. You should take it. You should take it. “What do they do?” you blurted out without meaning to. Oh god. You were in so much trouble. 

All he did at first was blink at you. “What do suppressants do?” he repeated back to you, looking slightly surprised. He withdrew his hand and sat down. “They stop your heats, is the biggest thing, for however long you take them.”

Why– Your heats belonged to your alpha. The whole point of them, of you, was to give your alpha pleasure. And pups. Why would he offer this to you? “You want me to take them?” you whispered.

“I–” He hummed and scratched his beard. “I want you to do whatever makes you feel most comfortable.” 

You looked at him as he made his face go completely blank. It was clearly another test and you weren't sure what the right answer was. Not just taking whatever pills he gave you was obviously bad. But if you had, you would have unknowingly denied him access to your heats, which was unforgivable. It was like you were being set up to fail. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse to punish you. Franco would sometimes do that too. You felt the flare of anger igniting in the pit of your stomach, but you took a deep breath to snuff it out. That would only get you in more trouble. You decided to commit to hopefully what was the lesser disobedience. “No, thank you, Alpha.”

He didn’t react for a moment and you were terrified you’d made the wrong choice. But his scent stayed mostly neutral and when he finally spoke, he just said, “Ok. That’s fine. But if you change your mind later, these will be here. And we can always talk about it again.”

You shook your head. You wouldn’t do that. You were good.

The alpha went to bed right after dinner, saying he was tired from having to wake up early to get you. You’d tried to apologize, but he looked at you funny, so you stopped.

Once he’d left you, you familiarized yourself with his kitchen, then did a thorough wipe down of the kitchen table, and swept underneath it.

When that was done, you retreated to the room he’d given you. There’d been some toiletries mixed in with the clothes he got for you, so you went into the little en suite and took a shower. It felt incredible, not having anyone banging on the door to get in next, or having to worry about using all of the hot water. For everything that was bad and scary about this situation, the chance at being a First Omega wasn’t one of them. Sure, you’d be the sole focus of your alpha’s attention, at least until he got another one, but it came with its perks too.

After your shower, you put on some of the new clothes. They were soft and cozy, cozier than anything you’d ever worn before. Then you climbed into the bed. You’d been so exhausted that morning that you hadn’t noticed much about it, but now, you felt like you were lying on a cloud. And it was so big, just as big as Franco’s bed. You’d be able to really stretch out in it when you were alone.

But would you be alone tonight? You got off the bed to peek out of the room to see that the alpha’s door was closed. You thought about closing your door, there was a lock on it, but if he really wanted to come in, all it would do was slow him down. And get you in trouble in the process. You closed it about three-fourths of the way. That wouldn’t technically be breaking any rules.

Not that you really knew what the rules were. Well, you knew the rules all omegas knew, but every alpha had their own as well. Your father did. Franco did. Wilford certainly had on the nights you had to be with him. But this alpha hadn’t bothered to tell you his yet. Another way to trick you into disobeying him.

You curled up on the bed, wrapping the soft blanket from the bin around yourself. You’d slept a lot of the day. Hopefully, that meant you wouldn’t need to sleep through the night. You wanted to be ready, when the alpha inevitably came for you. You wouldn’t fight him. The bite mark on your neck was proof enough that that wouldn’t do any good. But you just… you hated waking up in the middle of it. You’d rather know what was happening.

You turned over onto your side, trying to get comfortable, as you felt tears welling in your eyes. Again. If Martha were here, she’d yell at you for being a stupid child. You wondered where she’d ended up. Neither she nor Emmy had been shoved into the same van as you. Were they together? What had happened to their pups? You’d probably never see any of them ever again. You didn’t know what it said about you that you didn’t feel much of anything at that thought. Nothing good, probably.

You’d never see Franco again either. A good omega would feel grief at that. A good omega would miss him. Try as hard as you might, maybe you’d never been a very good omega. Maybe that’s how you’d ended up where you were.

You turned over again. You couldn’t get comfortable. This bed was too soft. You got up with a grumble, grabbing the blanket and one of the pillows and dragging them to the corner of the room. You were good at making yourself comfortable on the floor. That would be better. If he got upset that you weren’t waiting for him in bed, then at least you’d learn what his punishments were like.

You huddled into the wall and pulled the blanket tight around yourself, settling in to wait.

You woke with a start. You looked around, trying to get your bearings. You were in that little bedroom. The sun was streaming in through the curtains. Oh god, you’d fallen asleep! You hadn’t meant to do that. As you started to panic, you realized you were still curled up in the corner. Your clothes were still on. The door was exactly how you’d left it. He hadn’t come to take you in the night. You were filled with a strange mix of intense relief and something that felt a lot like dejection. Why hadn’t he come? It didn’t make any sense.

 You heard the clinking of dishware coming from another part of the house just as the scent of breakfast wafted in. Your head shot up, confused. Who was making it? Was there an omega here after all?

You got up and quickly got dressed in another pair of leggings and one of the big, slouchy sweaters. You followed the noise to the kitchen and came to a sudden halt in the doorway. The alpha was making pancakes. You had never seen an alpha cook, not even once, in your entire life. Alphas didn’t cook. That was omegas’ work. Was this his way of rubbing your face in the fact that you were already falling down on the job? Your first morning here and you’d already neglected your duties to the point that he had to cook for himself?

He turned around when he realized you were there and you braced yourself for whatever was coming. But instead of yelling at you, a wide smile overtook his face. “Hey, good morning! I hope you slept okay.” You couldn’t do much other than blink at him, but his smile didn’t falter. “Go ahead and sit,” he said, gesturing to the table. “This’ll be done in just a couple minutes.”

“I can finish it, Alpha” you tried, your voice timid.

He immediately shook his head. “No, no. You’re a guest. Sit down. It’s almost done.”

You did as he said and sat, not taking your eyes off him. This was the strangest alpha you’d ever met. You didn’t understand anything about him. How could you predict him when you didn’t understand him?

True to his word, it was just a few minutes later that he was setting a plate in front of you, along with some syrup. You gingerly poured it over your pancakes, as he sat across from you and did the same. As you carefully cut a small bite for yourself, you felt him watching you, even though he acted like he wasn’t. You took a bite and your eyes fluttered closed. These were the best pancakes you’d ever tasted. Much better than Emmy’s. Much better than yours. 

A small “mmm” escaped your lips. You opened your eyes, embarrassed, to find him still grinning at you. “That’s the first thing you should know about me,” he said, “I make really good pancakes.”

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[lokisprettygirl]

Come As You Are (Eric Draven! Bill Skarsgard's Version x Female Reader) (18+) (Slight Au)

Read chapter 6 here // Series Masterlist

Chapter 7

Summary : You can't help but obsess over Eric's past relationship with Melody.

Warning: 18+, Smut, more smut, dirty sexual thoughts, Description of self harm, dry humping, Eric is a past drug addict with suicidal tendencies, self harm, use of cuss words, description of claustrophobia, reader is in her early thirties, mention of sexual assault, death and murder, Consumption of alcohol and weed, periods

“Baby? Hi..Good morning. Miss you already and you're still next to me as we speak. Have to take off. Don't want you to worry. I'll come back sooner today. Call me whenever you need me. Enjoy your Sunday. Love, Eric :)

And oh..drew you last night after you slept, hope you like it. Kisses”

You smiled as you read the note before you slumped down into the pillow again. There was a sketch of you under the note, your hair a mess as you slept on his torso, using him like a pillow. He had the sweetest way of reminding you that he cared about you, he didn't often use his words. Didn't really have to.

It's been a week since you two had been together now, last week has been eventful to say the least. When Eric said he wanted to take things slow, he meant it, after that night he wasn't indulging you both with dry humping sesh, three nights ago he almost lost control, he wanted to fuck you and even though you said you were ready for it, he didn't think you were ready for it and whatever he said to you was the law, you just nodded your head like the good girl you wanted to be for him and agreed.

You were a grown woman but as soon as he had you in his arms and you saw those big green eyes looking at you, every inch of you crumbled under his gaze and you just wanted to be his baby.

You immediately grabbed your phone and typed a message for him.

“Miss you. Love you. Be safe. Come back soon. That's all ❤️”

You weren't blind to the fact that you were starting to write like him too.

As you sat up in bed you couldn't help but open his instagram profile again. This has been a thing with you in the past week. You wanted to stop but you couldn't.

This is what you really couldn't stop yourself from doing ever since you had found his profile that night.

He seemed so..happy in those pictures, all he had on his profile was a few pictures of him, one with this guy that you assumed was his dead friend Chance, and then most of them had her. Melody. Melody Banks, the famous singer.

How did they even meet? You checked the date on those photos and they were old, she wasn't even famous back then, he stopped posting suddenly like six years ago.

You remembered your birthday party and how he had left as soon as a song of hers played and it made complete sense now. He had a history with her but what kind?

Were they in a serious relationship? It didn't seem like a casual one at all, his captions for her were so sweet, he called her his melody, the love of his life and what not. But then what happened between them? Why weren't they together anymore? Was she one of the reasons he was so reclusive now? Or was she THE REASON?

You had plenty of questions but none of the answers unfortunately and you didn't want to ask him either because you knew he'd take this the wrong way and would probably try to push you away again, he had told you to not snoop into his past life but curiosity had killed you.

You were also very jealous of this woman now, a week ago you didn't really care if she even existed or not. A part of you wanted to go back to that state.

In the longer scheme of things 6 years weren't much but how come he looked exactly the same as he did now? His username was EricDraven90, you figured 90 was his birth year, so he was thirty five like he had told you but you didn't look the same as you did when you were 26 as compared to now, there were changes or maybe you were overthinking and it was the grainy quality of those photos that made him look that way.

He really needed a new hairstyle though, you thought.

Perhaps you needed to cut back on the obsession you had with his ex but you couldn't. When you looked her up you found out that she had struggled with drug addiction, just like Eric. Maybe that's how they met each other? You watched her interviews and she never mentioned knowing any Eric and that bothered you. Did they end up on bad terms? Whose fault was it?

You even typed their names together but nothing came up, his profile didn't have much following so you weren't surprised that her fans hadn't picked up on this.

She had been dating some famous actor now and you wondered how Eric felt about it or if he felt anything at all.

****

Eric was in the middle of slicing someone's throat when the stupid phone buzzed in his pocket, his mouth curved into a small smile as he knew the only person who could message him was you.

“Now stay like that until you bleed out slowly..maybe I'll see you in hell someday” he said as he got up, he felt no mercy for the monster beneath him, this ugly fucker had been trafficking children and dealing in child pornography for years now.

The horrors Eric was accustomed to would make anyone run for the asylum but he was used to it now, he had become a monster himself, just because he hurt bad people that didn't mean he wasn't committing a crime against nature by taking lives, but then the gods wanted him to play the god on earth so who he was to defy them?

He had no other purpose in life anymore, he had given up on the possibility of living a normal life long back but then you turned up and flipped it upside down.

He couldn't believe it still, every day he woke up now he just stared at your warm body being so close to him and he couldn't believe his luck. After Melody he didn't think he'd ever have a woman in his life again, he didn't want it either, at least that way he wasn't putting anyone in danger but you had broken all the walls he had put up around him with your incessant personality.

He could have pushed you away harder if he wanted to, he was definitely capable of such cruelty but he didn't want to, he couldn't go on forever knowing he had hurt you deliberately.

If you wanted to care for a moron like him he wouldn't stop you, he just dreaded to see the day you'd have enough of him and would turn your back on him because eventually he'd become too much to handle.

The constant nightmares, the usual run-ins with the law, the new enemies that he made everyday, the truth about Melody, his own death, his immortality, all of that made him so unlovable he wouldn't even be surprised if one morning you'd wake up and lose all the feelings you carried for him now but if he was doomed to suffer for eternity he might as well cherish these moments you were willing to spend with him.

He knew it would crush him when you'd get so sick of being around him but he hoped he wouldn't have to see that day anytime soon.

There was a water tap outside the illicit building so he managed to get rid of as much blood as he could from his face, especially when he knew you'd run to greet him as soon as you hear the loud thrumming noise of the elevator.

After cleaning himself up he took out his phone and read the message and it made him smile. He was excited to spend the day with you since you'd both be home now.

As expected the moment he reached the eleventh floor, he found you standing at the other side of the elevator like a puppy with your legs crossed and arms behind your back.

“What are you hiding?” He asked as he opened the grill so you shook your head.

“Nothing” you mumbled before you jumped into his arms to kiss him so he picked you up effortlessly, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you to your apartment.

As you kissed his forehead, he rejoiced the lingerie touch of your lips before he put you down on the couch and leaned down to kiss you.

“Let me shower then I'm all yours for today” he said to you so you nodded.

“Mmm okay”

As he stepped into the bathroom you made your way into the kitchen to make tea for him, he had been staying at your place alot, he found it homely. His words.

To make his life easier you had laundered the clothes he left at your place so he'd not have to go back to his apartment to grab his clothes.

He came out of your bedroom wearing his pants but his t-shirt was still in his hands.

“Did you wash them?” He said as he took a whiff of the fabric “smells fresh” you nodded in response so he shook his head before he put them on.

“You don't have to baby” he said as he placed his palms on the other side of the counter.. facing you.

He had a hard time being taken care of and you didn't blame him, he had been alone for so long, he was hyper independent and probably didn't want to get used to this.

“Just let me take care of you okay?” you said softly as you poured the tea in a cup so he smiled. God he had the cutest smile you had ever seen in your life.

“Want to help me workout?” he asked out of nowhere so you chuckled.

“Absolutely”

A few minutes later he was on the floor and he asked you to get on top of him..

“I thought you wanted to work out in a more traditional way” he chuckled as you said that.

“I definitely am..hold onto my wrists” you chuckled before you grabbed his wrists “legs straight out okay..don't drop them..keep your core braced” He said as he wrapped his big hands around your waist and lifted you up. A gasp escaped your lips as you found yourself levitating suddenly.

“You’re doing it like I weigh nothing” you said, making him chuckle, after what felt like forever he laid you back down on him so you got on your knees and caressed his temple before you kissed him softly. Immortality came with its perks like super strength and regeneration.

“Your core is very strong..good job” he praised you.

“Oh you should take my core for a ride” you answered him immediately and that made him laugh again.

“You have no respect for my gentlemanly behaviour with you, do you?”

“Its not my fault you're so hot”

His face flushed at the compliment, sure he had been called hot before but hearing it from the girl he adored so much made him feel very bashful.

He cupped your cheeks and pulled you closer to kiss you, his tongue slipped into your mouth for a moment, he just needed a taste of you to keep himself grounded. To remind himself that he was holding onto something precious and rare in this moment.

As he pulled away he tapped his palm over your cheek.

“Help me do pushups now”

And you did.

You sat on his back while he pumped those muscles, though you'd have preferred to stay underneath him while he did them.

The words were on the tip of your tongue, the questions and curiosity you had regarding Melody was eating you up more and more everyday. You couldn't stop staring at those pictures, he looked so happy, so completely in love. Did he even feel with you half of what he felt for her? Did he even look at you the same way? And worst of all you wondered if he still had feelings for her.

Later that night he at last had a nightmare again, he didn't want to have them in front of you, didn't want to appear so weak but it was bound to happen sooner or later.

Your eyes opened when he struggled and moaned in pain next to you.

“Eric?” You called out his name as you placed your palm on his shoulder, he was drenched in sweat, his fist clutching onto the sheets as he shook and mumbled something you couldn't really figure out.

“Baby?” You whispered again as you gently turned him on his back, that's when he opened his eyes, his body suddenly went limp, he couldn't move at all, his eyes rolled back and eyelids fluttered incessantly, that's when you realised that he was having a sleep paralysis.

You had them too at times so you knew, you leaned down and cupped his cheeks to make him look at you.

“You're safe, you're okay baby, just a nightmare okay?” You whispered softly, his eyes welled up as he looked at you, you pecked on his lips, your thumbs brushed over his cheeks, a moment later he breathed in deeply as his muscles awakened and finally got in sync with his brain. .

“There you go..you're safe baby.. i love you” as his tears rolled down you wiped them before they'd reach his ears, he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist to hold you.

Turning on your side you pulled him into your chest to comfort him.

In the past six years he had suffered through them alone so when he felt your comforting embrace he felt as if he was having an out of body experience, it felt surreal to have you next to him right now, he couldn't believe how sweet and gentle you were being to him at the moment.

Melody. She loved him, she comforted him at times too, but not like this. It was never like this. He didn't want to compare her with you, that was cruel, it wasn't fair to her, she loved his pathetic self in her own ways and that was more than he had ever had in life but you? The way you treated him, it made him feel as if he was worthy of all this love, even if that feeling lasted merely for a second, he felt worthy of it

“I'm sorry i woke you up darling” his voice came out all muffled as he was squished in your chest.

“I'll make you truly sorry if you ever say sorry to me after a nightmare ever again” your words were threatening but the voice was as tender as he was used to.

He wasn't able to go back to sleep after that, he couldn't.

“Talk to me” you mumbled as he turned on his back and stared up at the ceiling.

“I'm ruining your bedsheet, i should take a shower” he said as he looked at his body drenched in sweat but before he could get up and put that plan in motion you held onto his arm.

“You're not going anywhere okay?” he let out a chuckle at the tone of your voice.

“You're so bossy” he said as he turned his head to look at you so you placed your hand on his cheek and lifted your head up to kiss him before you climbed on top of him.

Placing your palms on either side of his head you stared at him so he gave you a small smile. He then placed his hands on your waist, fingers gently grazed over the exposed section of your lower back between your tank top and pyjamas.

“I don't want to talk about it” he said finally so you sighed.

“Mmm okay..what do you want to do?”

“I want you to sleep baby, you have to work tomorrow” he answered honestly, he despised waking you up like this.

“I'm too charged to go back to sleep” you said to him and his brows quirked up in response.

“Mmmhm?”

“Do you want me to suck your cock?”

“Jesus christ baby-” His brain short circuited at the words, he had been trying to stay in control for your sake but you were making it very difficult these days. He tried to keep his expressions neutral but his grip on your waist tightened, his voice a strangled rasp "You can't just say such things”

“I can..I find myself saying things I never thought I would. I should warn you though.. I'll suck at sucking it..i have never done it before”

He tried his hardest to not moan like a desperate whore but his eyes darkened just thinking about you doing that to him, his brain already fueling the image in his head.

“You don't have to babe”

“I want to”

You leaned down to kiss him before your lips trailed down from his jawline to his sternum, you left open mouthed kisses over his damped skin, tracing his tattoos with your tongue, tasting the salt from his skin.

God you felt like a whore for him, he made you want to do things guys had begged for before, begged and were denied, you never wanted to suck a man's cock before, it didn't arouse you, but this man beneath you? He didn't even have to ask for it, you were willing and desperate.

His mind was a storm of thoughts as he felt your lips on his skin, he was trying to remain in control but it was too much.

His chest rose up and down as you trailed your lips but when he felt your tongue on his skin, he finally let out the strangled moan he had been stifling.

As you reached the edge of his sweatpants you sat up and stared at his bulge so he propped himself up on his elbows.

“You don't have to do anything you're not ready for..we have all the time in the world baby” he said softly so you sighed. Men had tried to force you into this before and here he was asking you to not do it when you had already shown him how desperate you were for him.

“We do?” You asked him as you placed your hand on his cock, his breath hitched at the touch but he composed himself.

“You got me as long as you want me”

“Mmmhm? What if I want forever?”

You asked him, ever since you had seen those pictures and realised how happy he seemed in them, you had been afraid and insecure.

A part of you feared that if she ever comes back in his life and wants him back he'd leave you immediately. She was everything you were not or could ever dream of being.

“Too soon for you to be asking that” he said, his own insecurity was evident.

“Mmm i think you need to lie back down baby” Your hands were shaking as you pulled him out of his pants, you had never seen one before, you had never touched one before, not without the barrier of clothes at least. Sure you made out with your so called boyfriends but it never progressed because as soon as they touched you in that manner you stepped back, it didn't feel right.

You had seen porn though and his cock looked nothing like that, it seemed natural, he wasn't huge but he wasn't small either, the more you touched him the more he swelled in your palm and the more you watched him grow in your hold the more you realised that having that cock in your cunt was all you needed in life to feel sane.

You lowered down his pants and took it off completely, he aided you by pressing his hips up, you wanted him all bare for your view, wanted to gawk at those muscular thighs, you then slid down from his thighs to sit over his shin before you leaned down, the tip of his cock dribbled with precum so you rubbed your thumb over it before you sucked him in.

The loud groan from his throat was all the encouragement you needed to keep doing whatever you were doing.

His fingers curled into your hair as you sucked him deeper into your warm mouth, he never thought he'd ever see this day with you, he had planned to keep you at arm's length the moment he saw you but he had failed and how.

You were being very bold and confident for someone who had never done this before, none of you knew where this was coming from and none of you were complaining about it either.

He wanted to keep his eyes solely on you but you made it difficult, so difficult, his head rolled back every time you took him deeper into that mouth of yours.

“God you're so beautiful - I can't believe you'd let me destroy you like this”

He murmured, his voice raspy and husky. He wasn't going to last, he knew that. Well if this was your destruction you'd happily take it and revel in it.

And If this was how you planned to make him feel better after a nightmare then he wouldn't mind having them more often.

“Baby..I'm..gonna–”

The moment he felt your tongue running over his balls he crumbled down completely, a gasp escaped your mouth as his cum dribbled down and touched your lips, you didn't hesitate for a moment before licking it up from his balls to the source itself.

He tasted good, salty, creamy and savoury.

After cleaning him up with your mouth you sat up and stared at his beautifully long and large naked body splayed out on your bed, every muscle under his skin flexing and tout.

After wiping your lips you crawled up at him, he immediately had his hands wrapped around your neck as he pulled you closer to kiss those lips that had made him lose his mind just now. God those lips, he'd go to hell and back for this mouth of yours.

He wanted to return the favour but you denied, this wasn't about give and take, this wasn't transactional for you, besides pleasing him had pleased you enough, you took pride in your ability to make him cum like that, a man like him falling apart because of you was good for your ego..

You were officially sexy now.

“I'll be right back” you had to use the bathroom so he nodded but he didn't ease his hold on you until he had his fill of kisses.

He needed to go too so he sat up on the bed and waited for you to come out of the bathroom, that's when your phone buzzed on the side table so he picked it up.

“Baby.. you have a message from Dina, seems important” He yelled as he picked up your phone and opened the message. She had a drunken emergency and she needed you to go pick her up from some club because she couldn't find a cab.

“Coming right out” you yelled back so he was going to put your phone down on the table but then his fingers swiped to the left accidentally and he saw his own face staring back at him. His blood ran cold.

EricDraven90. That was the recently searched profile opened up on your Instagram. You snooped around in his messed up past when he had warned you to not do it.

🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

Note: What do you think he's going to do?

Taglist: @m-riaa @erebus-et-eigengrau @peachychyy @enchantresss97 @fandomxo00 @a-differentbrandof-beans

[ruershrimo]

I’m not in love, so don’t forget it- jason todd x reader

Jason never got to visit playgrounds very much. Growing up, he’d been spending time doing everything but, all to make ends meet enough for him to keep his head afloat— until he’d got past that age, tried to get tires from a car, and then ended up in a casket with fumes heavy in his lungs and slight body. By the time he fully awoke, he’d been too consumed by a drive for revenge to do so.

He supposes it’s worth it, though. There’s the sight of your smile as you stand on the swings, elated like a child with candy. It’s late at night— the time period between an embrace and a brief exchange of ‘goodnight’s, right before he wears his helmet, scarlet and metallic like blood from a fresh wound. When you’d first seen him don his Red Hood gear, you’d told him it was a noble thing, whatever he was doing. And at that time, he would have said yes if not for your smile holding him back, a balance with his morals and their contradictions on either side, both a part of him, and both amplified around you.

You’re too good to him, he thinks, and he wonders if he deserves having you in his life. Watching him watch you, you propel yourself forward on the swing before leaning back to continue. Like this, he wonders if you can see your reflection through his eyes, or if they’re stuck there with nothing to show you like amber trapped in resin. Like this, you wonder if he’ll ever understand that you’re grateful enough to have a full view of his eyes at all.

Here’s the thing, though: Jason and you are just friends. At least, the two of you think you are, though not quite.

The two of you had met after he saved you one night, and you’d kept trying to return the favour in any way ever since.

He may not care about you— you don’t know if he does, but to you, there’s something kind in his eyes, something gentle in the way he holds things as he would a child’s tiny wrist, something warm in his voice when he speaks. You hope he never leaves you.

But to him, there’s nothing he’s cared for more. There was never a debt you owed him or needed to settle— whatever he did for you, he was doing it as part of a mission— and he doesn’t remember when this happened, with no traces of when this development started, yet you’ve become his lifeblood in some way.

He had his injuries patched up at your apartment before. His blood drained out of him in rivulets, his body curled into itself and crumpled like a rag soaked in and dripping with dirty tap water, besmirching the pristine sofa and the spotless carpet floor. He thought himself a broken faucet. The whole time, you kept a towel under him, brought damp cloth to add pressure to his wounds, dressed them with expert adroitness, almost as if you were shielding him somehow. As he was blanketed by his bandages, you’d asked about his day, about the book he was reading, about how life was treating him. You held his hand the entire time, ran your fingers and the skin of your palm against his callouses as if they were mountains you could cross for his sake and that doing so came easily to you. You stayed by his side the entire night, and when he woke up the next day, you were still there.

You stand on the swing seat again. Jason is warned to catch you, else you’d lose your balance and fall face into the solid ground floor. Not everyone’s a crime-fighting vigilante with near-superhuman levels of physical ability, after all. When he does, he sweeps your hair out of your face. You want to catch it and take hold of his hand, so quickly and so intensely, until he’s filled with your presence. Until you’re not the only thing he knows but the only thing he remembers, at least for a little while.

The thing about Gotham is that the weather sucks nearly all year round. Even in summer— with the new season comes sweltering heat, horrible levels of humidity and days spent in the claggy heat driving out of the city for vacation. At night, the breeze awakens, passively making its way around the cramped lots and housing areas in Crime Alley and the Bowery, the rebarbatively uniform apartments in Midtown, all the way down to the waves crashing into Gotham Harbour. It’s a bustling city, filled with pollution of all sorts, people sequestered from each other by social status, and modern lights added onto old buildings in an effort to stand out in the night, but it’s home. And yet no matter how long it’s been here, there’s still sweat gathering on his brow when summer rolls around, even in the night when the weather is chillier.

Every time you notice it, you take something— a handkerchief, the fabric of your jacket, your fingers— and wipe it off. “It must be uncomfortable,” you usually say.

He wants you to be comfortable: are you comfortable? Do you feel safe? He fears as if he does too little to repay you sometimes, too much taking and not enough giving. Like him, you think that there was never anything he had to repay you for.

He wants to give you everything he can: to let you have everything you’d like to have, even if you may not ask for much in the end. Anything that made you happy— he’d do it a thousand times over for your smile.

When you inevitably fall forward from the swing, he catches you and you feel the sweat on his chest as it touches yours. You sense his hand cradling the back of your head, fingers tangled within the strands and intertwined like they do for prayer stances. All that you see in his eyes are his honeyed brown hues and that’s all you’ve ever wanted to see. All he sees in yours are pupils widening with a shallowing of your breaths, something deep-seated in them he doesn’t dare to decipher yet, but he knows that it’s with you he wants to stay.

“Are you okay?” you ask breathlessly. There’s something about uncertainty that only strengthens any emotion you want to subdue. You don’t know how long he’s going to stay, how long until he’s going to leave; that makes you all the more pathetically desperate to stay locked in such a tight embrace, despite the sweat and the heat and the depressive atmosphere that clouds around Gotham every waking moment.

“Yeah,” he replies softly. He wants to stay with you forever, so he won’t let go— the only way he could bring himself to let go was if you expressed that you were uncomfortable. Then he’d pull away immediately. “Should I continue—?”

“Okay.”

It would be nice to have the moonlight shining above you, and yet all the two of you have are the harsh city lights obscuring the stars in the horizon, and the old-timey street lamps constructed more than a dozen decades ago: the city remains bleak, yet not one inch of it is entrenched in darkness. In the distance the hum of silence drifts through the air; the city never sleeps and yet everyone is so quiet that it sounds like so anyway. There’s the ever-present stench in Gotham along with his sweat and the clinical scent of his multi-use body soap creating a mix you’d step away from any other night.

Neither of you knows how the other feels— that’s a sure fact. These feelings are troublesome; a tightrope walk with a blindfold on and no clear destination on the other side. If it’s love, it scares you. The word itself is easy to throw around, for you to say that you love your bed, or for him to say that he loves his books. Crushes can come to either of you easily, and yet it’s different this time; not as simple as with other people. Yet still, whatever you feel, there’s a thumping in your heart and an uneasiness in your stomach when the two of you are like this, nerve-wracking and wild, driving your feelings out of control to an insane degree.

But this is nice. You like it, if only for being able to swing like a child again, or to have someone come around and stay.

If only he knew if you felt the same way he did— then he’d stay, over and over again, and he’d bring you here or anywhere else you’d want to go on your nostalgia-fueled adventures and hold you like this every night, any time you wanted it. You and him are a snug fit, like jigsaw puzzle pieces latched onto each other.

“I like this,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” he goes, “Me too.”

“You’ve got to patrol soon, right?”

“...it can wait.”

Neither of you let go.

this is probably the only time I’ll post dc x reader on tumblr haha. title taken from “I’m Not in Love” by 10cc just because I was listening to it while writing

[oneirophasia]

I like thinking about how The Murderbot Diaries could be adapted. I enjoy the conceit that much or all of the footage/animation is technically in first-person - but, true to character, Murderbot frequently prefers to hijack drones and other environmental cameras as an emotional distancing mechanism, allowing changes in POV to communicate its emotions without forcing Murderbot to explicitly comment on them. :D Visual media obviously want less narration than literature (sometimes to its detriment), but fortunately Murderbot has the excuse of lacking a Watson or anyone else it's willing to talk to, especially for half the first book, so there's plenty of justification for a minimal level of snarky cyber-noir commentary. The tonal contrast between its internal monologue and everything it actually says is important!

Treating the "camera" as an explicit extension of Murderbot's perspective also slightly simplifies the problem that a lot of the action and dialogue happens in a way that's tricky to convey passively in only two senses. For one, people talk to each other regularly not just vocally, but over the feed. How can that distinction be made clear to the audience without constantly having to say so? Audio is the most obvious choice; maybe the dialogue has processing effects that give it a subtle electronic tint. Earlier scenes could establish the convention by showing augmented humans continuing to talk by closing their mouths and using subvocal jaw movements, accompanied by the processing change, setting up that association to use without the visual cue later. It'd be important that the effect be distinctive without making the dialogue incomprehensible, since music and sound effects would also still be part of the mix. But "the feed" isn't just one feed, either - not everyone uses the same public channel, and sometimes that's plot-relevant. I remember in Rogue Protocol there was a moment where Murderbot has a brief conversation with someone - I think it was Abene? - which starts vocally, then moves to the feed, then to a private channel. The same people are speaking, or else you could use that to imply the change, but it's important to the audience that other people in the group who aren't currently speaking can only hear some of it. How do you communicate that efficiently? "Sounds digital" is one thing, "sounds digital but in two or more distinct and consistent ways" is another level and outside my limited AV knowledge. (If Murderbot is narrating when other people are around we might also need tone for "asides no one heard but the audience", but that isn't anything new at least.)

That's relatively trivial compared to the broader problem that Murderbot, specifically, is constantly talking to and hacking computer systems. That's at least half of its job and plot participation, but it's also a core part of its characterisation as an insubordinate non-human that makes it a compelling protagonist, so "just write it out of the script" would clearly betray the spirit of an adaptation. I don't know if you've thought about how much effort directors went to until someone (possibly on Sherlock) figured out how to just present text messages on-screen in a dynamic and legible way? This is worse. Viewers don't necessarily need as much information as readers get, but I just finished Exit Strategy and was paying attention to what I was actually imagining visually while Murderbot:

Remotely contacts a gunship using false authentication so it won't notify its human crew

Casually disables security devices and erases itself from recordings

Distinguishes systems by which organisation they belong to, how much access it has to them, and whether they have an active human operator

Sorts personal memories to edit into a highlights reel

Briefly redirects a secure call at a critical moment

Fakes a glitch in decorative holography

Exploits the perimeters of security systems that don't directly communicate with each other to evade pursuit

Monitors transit traffic to deduce enemy movement and change plans accordingly

Hijacks all the drones in a large room and blocks attempts to regain control

Reclassifies enemy combatants mid-engagement

Secures a pilot bot in the middle of being destroyed by killware

Creates bait to lure said killware into a subsystem that can be physically disconnected

Good thing I was imagining a broadly POV camera framing anyway, because none of this is happening physically, and Murderbot isn't experiencing it through human-analogous senses. The challenge is to communicate all of that without impeding the story it's meant to support, without the advantage of being able to control pacing through text. The usual trope for creating visual interest in the visually-unexciting activity of "using a computer" is to portray it as happening physically anyway in a metaphorical cyberspace, but I don't think that actually works in this case, because remember: a lot of this happens during climactic action scenes, and blocking fight choreography can be disorienting enough as it is without also constantly flickering into virtual reality just long enough to flip an imaginary switch. It makes more sense to me to represent it as more of an augmented reality overlay, which... the problem there isn't really that that sounds like creating an entire imaginary UI, which isn't different in principle from set design making sure all the buttons are labelled consistently on the spaceship console, the problem is that usually the audience isn't watching through the console. You'd need to treat the HUD elements as normal and use them at least often enough that when they become important the audience will be ready to follow along without exposition, but cluttering the screen can be distracting enough when you're playing an game and is probably even worse in a non-interactive medium.

[tubbytarchia]

Really ill and deranged thoughts about Jimmy's Impossible Minecraft SMP Finale (regarding Grian and Joel):

Grian is SO nice to Jimmy that I'd go as far as to call it uncharacteristic. Not that he's never been like this but most times he's around Jimmy, he always makes some quips or causes him harm in some way. Yet not once within Jimmy's video does he do so (aside from when Joel started killing Jimmy and Grian joined in) even whilst spending half of it alone with him. While he doesn't view Jimmy as an object of desire like most other contributors, he still enforces the ecosystem to the point of taking Jimmy out by his own hand in Wild Life. This makes a lot of sense with the context of KOV to me, where he suffered as the runt of the group but he won't have to again as long as Jimmy retains that position instead. I don't doubt that he cares about Jimmy to some degree, but retaining that system seems ultimately more important to him when it becomes challenged. He looks out for himself first 9 out of 10 times

Here, he looks out for and encourages Jimmy. What hit me especially hard was the part during their last venture altogether, where everyone is preparing to go fight the dragon, but only Jimmy and Grian have an Elytra, so they fly off far ahead of the rest. Jimmy says he feels bad and Grian's immediate response is to deny it. There is something abundantly sweet about them flying together and teasing the rest of the group together, especially considering the avian headcanons often applied to them. And then them both also taking on an important task within the End fight as a result. Jimmy being trusted to to something important yknow. And no one commenting on that fact either, they just let him. hhh. Something to also say about it turning entirely self sacrificial since they decided that them blowing themselves up was the best way to get rid of the healing crystals. Hrrm. This battle btw is just kind of unironically awesome with Jimmy and Grian flying around whilst the others are taking shots from the ground

And Joel... grits my teeth

Joel and Jimmy just duking it out. Just beating the shit out of each other with no rhyme or reason. Is really therapeutic and I feel like they both really needed to get that out of their system. The way Joel kills him once and continues to go at him again after the respawn, which seems unfair but it feels mutual and Jimmy fucking honed in. And you guys have got to know by now how good he is when he hones in. You can feel the concentration as he takes one after another shot at Joel at impressive distance. Legitimately could not stop thinking about his MCC 3v1 Dodgebolt clutch man

It's such sudden tension as they focus in on each other and ignore whatever the hell they were supposed to be doing with the others in the first place, but it's so warranted considering their characters and their relationship. It happening in a much more light-hearted series with lower stakes is also perfect, especially with keep-inventory now enabled. They get to fight until they're content without any consequences, much different from the Life series where Joel's feelings surface (to his detriment) the most

Jimmy commenting "That's the first time I've killed Joel" makes me all at once sad, happy and confused. He already had a notable kill on Joel, whether or not Lizzie assisted him with it. I'd believed that the reason he was so deadset on killing Joel in Wild Life was to prove himself to him, or to himself, or both. Because Joel is important to him and he thinks highly of him. To kill Joel would be proving something, I think. And/or earning respect from the person whose opinions he values most. I can't fathom what other reason he could have possibly had. And then when he does get that kill, Jimmy immediately drops the act and they make up and become allies (as if they weren't already)

For Jimmy to call this his first kill instead means he doesn't recognize the WL one despite the importance he placed on it. It perplexes me greatly and I think this needs more analysis lol. That's why it also makes me sad because it's not at all uncommon for Jimmy to play himself down and dismiss his successes, but I'm also happy that he was feeling genuinely good about himself in that moment

And of course Lizzie contributing lol. Just as she did in Wild Life. And then Jimmy accidentally shooting her head on before honing back in on Joel

And then Jimmy kills him again at the very end after Joel started blasting everyone with his newly acquired dragon head weapon?? Nice. Healthy for them. Jimmy's needed to start killing people for awhile and I'm glad if he can get his fix via Joel. Joel deserves it anyway. It's no solution but it is something they needed I think

Edit: Need to note how easily flustered Joel becomes after becoming the target instead of Jimmy. Getting a taste of his own medicine. It is kind of distressing to watch because of reasons (Limited Life flashbacks) but within this context where he did ultimately and undeniably start it, it's much more warranted

There's also something symbolic to me about Joel trying to hit Jimmy again but failing before Jimmy takes off flying but also I'm crazy

[fictionalcreator]

WE CAN TAKE THIS EVEN FURTHER

Maybe, with the fear of heights, he actually gets calmer the closer to the edge of a roof he is? Maybe not for things above a certain height, but if it's just two or three stories, then being close to the ends brings him a sense of reassurance. 'Cause there's no wall. No support contraption deliberately designed to only work with a counterweight. Nothing stopping him from just. Leaving. Jumping off. If he really wanted to. Which he doesn't, of course. That would hurt. But still. He could. The option exists now.

I like to think that the tower walls aren't just a vertical incline, it's actually slightly concave and surprisingly smooth, making it so you have no possibility of using the wall to support your descent. If you're going in or out, you're either like, a gecko, or you're trusting your entire body weight to the hair rope. (Or you're using the secret entrance Brother used before Cale's hair was long enough, but. Y'know.)

(Can't believe I didn't mention how having access to Roksu allows Cale to cuss that's so vital)

(Also putting the rest of this under a read more 'cause uhhhh I have so many Thoughts asdfghjkl when i tell you that i spend ALL DAY thinking about this AU...)

I also like to think that Cale's nightly visits to Kim Roksu's body are still due to God of Death shenanigans. Like, maybe in this fairy-tale world, the Hentinuse family receive the favor of GoD, and Cale ended up especially "blessed."

Maybe he encountered a "death" too young, but his parents had a fortuitous encounter with an Ancient Power of longevity in the form of an item. Something like the vitality bottle. When they used the item, it fused with Cale's body, manifesting most prominently in his hair.

Unfortunately for them, that was White Star's "personal" life-extending Ancient Power item that he THOUGHT was well-hidden...oh well. Guess there's nothing for it but to get his "item" back (kidnap and imprison a literal baby).

As Cale grows up and "Brother" starts to leave for longer periods of time, the isolation really really starts to fuck with Cale. GoD takes pity on this child and uses sleep (part of GoD's realm) to bring him to a friend. A kindred spirit.

Sidenote, but I'm only up to chapter 659, so this question may or may not be answered later, but do we know if Heni!KRS has og!KRS's abilities? Are there two copies of Record and Instant out there? Or are they uniquely embedded in og!KRS's soul? Like the Ancient Powers?

I've actually been thinking for a while that the abilities of KRS's world bear a closer resemblance to the Ancient Powers than the magic that Rosalyn and the other mages use (used without incantations/scrolls or mana(?), intrinsic to the individual, cannot be learned or [in general] transferred, must be awakened to, seem to reflect some aspect of the holder's will in a way learned magic does not. It's like, while magic can be bent to one's will in unique ways [see, everything about Rosalyn], Ancient Powers and abilities are more like a direct manifestation of that will, channeled through the very world around you. Sometimes the medium is the elements, sometimes its something more intangible, sometimes it's your own body)

So, I wonder, if krs!Cale took his abilities with him across worlds, what about Heni!KRS? Did he manifest his own power, something that could rival Instant and Record? Something that lets him continue on as if he still has those powers? To the point that he can remain the lynchpin of the company?

Well, all that's to say that I think the apocalypse still happens in this AU. Probably for different reasons than in canon, but I'm going off of vibes.

The years have not been kind to the two of them. No matter his desire to be "trash" and escape from Brother's grasp, Cale has been unable to leave the tower. Maybe he doesn't have enough hair to serve as his counterweight yet. Maybe he doesn't have enough drive to overcome the fear instilled in him by watching something fall onto the craggy rock below. Maybe somewhere, in the depths of his soul, there's a little voice saying that this is fine. At least you have food and water and shelter. Even a friend. Even books and anything you could ask for. Even Brother.

He hates that voice. It's a coward. He's not like Roksu, who's okay with running away when things get tough and has learned that he shouldn't spend precious energy worrying about others. He doesn't like cowards. He can't help but think that, if he had been in charge of Roksu's body 24/7, he would have died a few times by now. Even as it is, he's gotten Roksu in trouble a few times over the past few years.

Roksu may get upset with him, cuss him out, or kick him out for a while, but in the end, Cale comes back, and Roksu lets him in, grumbling things like, "Crazy bastard. Who told you to do something so troublesome?" But he never kicks Cale out until after the deed is done, and that's how Cale knows that he approves. At least a little bit.

Then, one day, Roksu rejects him from entering at all.

...That's weird.

Brother's been home for a few days, so Cale hadn't been sleeping as much, so he couldn't be positive what was going on over there, but...the last time this happened...

Cale tries not to worry too much. Tries not to overthink it. But he can't help it. There's not much more to do but think in this damn tower.

He outright rejection continues for days. Then weeks. Then months. And each day, Cale can feel his nerves fraying away. Brother's been gone for a while now, too. Longer than he said he'd be away.

For a moment, the thought flashes through his mind.

What if Brother never comes back?

And the thought fills him with such an intense spike of anxiety that the world spins it makes him sick and he hates it because he doesn't even like Brother. Yet, the thought of being alone is somehow so, so much worse.

By the 6-month mark of Roksu outright rejecting him every night, the hallucinations are back in full swing. They'd gotten really bad back when he was a child (he still is, in many ways, but let's gloss over that for now), to the point where it was impossible to even see the room around him. There was just this field of a flower. Not a type of flower, just the same fucking single flower.

White with five petals, like a star.

Out of all of the illusions that haunt his senses when he gets too alone and starts to feel like a stranger in his own body, that's the one that gets under his skin the worst. It's so quiet, even peaceful there, but it fills him with such an ominous sense of dread. He really, really hates that flower.

For a time, days of sleeping close to or sometimes more than 20 hours become days of no sleep at all. Brother comes back, and that grounds him a bit and he hates it so much. Cale hates relying on this person so much but he does.

Brother is busy, so he leaves almost immediately again, but that night, Cale manages to sleep. When he sleeps, he doesn't try and barge his way into Roksu's soul as usual. Instead, he merely lingers at the door, and begs to be let in.

Roksu finally complies. When Cale opens his eyes, he sees the city he practically grew up in in ruins.

Roksu explains in his usual curt, matter-of-fact way that, 6 months ago, the apocalypse started. Monsters appeared, along with ability users that fight against them. Everyone is struggling to survive.

For a few moments, Cale looks at the collapsed high-rises and blown out windows with a blank stare.

Then, he laughs. No, he cackles.

"They knocked all the walls down!" He declares to no one in particular.

The others who had been sent out to gather supplies with him look at him and mutter "Did he finally snap...?"

The general consensus is "yeah but that's none of our business. who isn't holding on by a thread out here?"

Cale doesn't care what they think. Partly because their opinions mean nothing in the face of being free to act as he pleases, and partly because has more pressing issues right now.

In that moment, Cale manifested an Ability. At the same time, he stopped hearing Roksu's voice.

(I like to think that Cale's spent so long in that world that the moment he arrived and encountered a moment of emotional catharsis the world was like "yep, that soul checks out" and gave him an Ability, which fucked up the connection, and to prevent KRS from like, dissolving into the aether, KRS got sent back to Cale's body. Even gods can make mistakes and all that. GoD done fucked up by not including 'Cale independently manifests his own Ability, like, immediately' into the calculations)

(He'd have to be a multi-ability user, like og!Roksu. The question is what would he get? Something like Record and Instant? Or maybe something else to do with escaping, or sleep? Dreams? Visions? Enclosed spaces? Would he get two at once, or just the one?)

(OH Y'KNOW WHAT?? What if this Earth didn't get hit by just a survival apocalypse, but rather, a magic-tower-climbing scenario? (is there a more elegant name for this archetype? There's gotta be, right?) Where the major shelters double as Challenge Towers that strong ability users challenge occasionally once things calm down a bit. Cale is one of the few, if not outright the only one to be invited to Challenge the Towers, only to willingly turn his back on them (and flip them off for good measure). He just KNOWS there's some bullshit on top. He'd rather try his luck with the monsters outside, please and thank you. And if that makes some people think he's some kind of altruistic saint? Sure, why not. He can weaponize that reputation! No matter what, it won't stop him from doing what he wants. That's what he promised Roksu, after all. Do act as he pleased.)

(Also the part where he actually prefers Park Jin Tae's blunt violence and transparent pettiness to Bother's emotional manipulations is just ough...you're so right. The other folks at the shelter are just like "you're just gonna forgive him? That easily?" and he's like "*shrug* it could've been worse")

Anyway i've spent wayyy too long rambling about this uhhh goodnight for now!

Rapunzel AU!

Cale has been inside of the tower for his entire life. His hair is long, much longer than his brother's. His brother doesn't have a name. Cale knows they're brothers though- because they both have red hair, even if Brother has short hair and Cale does not.

Ever since Cale was 12, he'd been dreaming of a different world. He went to sleep and woke up as someone named Kim Roksu. This Kim Roksu was not in a similar situation as he was- Kim Roksu wandered the streets and ate food from the floor and hid in the small cabinet in his uncle's house. Kim Roksu was weak and strong.

Kim Roksu is a friend to Cale. When Cale wants to see the outside, he sleeps, and he dreams.

Kim Roksu figured out how to communicate with Cale after several years of simple body swapping.

Somehow, they are similar! They both agree that being trash is the best. Kim Roksu because it's easier being a bad person than a good person, and Cale because Brother won't let him be trashy and he wishes he could throw a fit without Brother punishing him.

"Your brother keeps you in a tower?" Roksu asks when he learns.

"Yeah. Is that weird?"

"Well, I don't know anyone who stays in a tower." Cale kicks a rock on the sidewalk with his barefoot, sending it skidding across the dirt road. "Ow, my toe." Roksu complains blandly.

Sharing a body, they also share the same sensations.

"You barely felt that and you know it."

"Shut up."

"You shut up." Cale retorts. He wants to say more, but he swallows those words and tucks them into his chest.

'The bruise over your eye hurts more but you don't complain about that.'

He bites his lip and looks down.

"Do you think," he asks quietly, "if I asked Brother to let me out, he would?"

Roksu, disembodied and floating over his body, frowns. "You haven't asked before?"

Cale smiles bitterly in Roksu's body. "... I did, once." After, Brother said he was going to be leaving for two weeks, and told Cale to ration his food well. Cale knew better than to think it was a coincidence. He didn't have Roksu yet. It was very lonely for a long time.

Roksu doesn't say anything.

"If," his voice trembles, "If I got out. If I left..."

"Cale." Roksu stops him. Cale winces, expecting to be reprimanded.

"You are trash. Trash does whatever they want, no matter what anyone says. If you want to leave, then leave." Roksu's translucent body floats over to stand in front of Cale. Sternly, he says, "Don't worry about useless things. Worry about making a plan and executing it."

Then, abruptly, Roksu turns and ignores him. Cale laughs and folds in half, a childish grin splitting his malnourished cheeks. How can someone be so blunt but so shy? Kim Roksu frowns, but it looks like a pout. Cale rubs away a tear and looks up at the back of his friend. No, the person who sometimes feels more like a brother to him than his real brother.

"And will you help me?"

Roksu rolls his eyes. "Don't ask something so obvious."

Cale smiles and looks down. "Right. Obvious, isn't it?"

Something like receiving help wasn't obvious to either of them. Yet, when it came to the two of them together, it was the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn't obvious with Brother, who he shared blood with. But Kim Roksu, who was abused and beaten down at every turn, chose to welcome a wandering soul into his body and share everything with him.

'You're the one who shouldn't want to be here,' Kim Roksu said when they first started talking and Cale asked why he didn't try to force Cale out. 'When you're in control, I can relax. Why would I want you to leave? That's so difficult.'

They learned that Kim Roksu really could force Cale out when his uncle kicked Cale, sending Kim Roksu's body sprawling onto the floor, then stomped on his arm so hard they heard a clear snap. For Cale it only hurt for a short moment. Roksu threw him out so fast you could imagine that he had practiced beforehand.

Every day and night, Cale slept to try and enter Roksu's body, check on him, share the pain, but Roksu kicked him out every time. It wasn't until four weeks later that Roksu let Cale back in.

Even that much pain was a lot for being four weeks after the incident, but while Cale was struggling to keep his cool, Roksu floated around him and spoke as if nothing was wrong. When Cale started sweating a few hours later Roksu kicked him out again.

'Don't be stubborn,' he said when Cale returned the next night. 'Just say that it hurts. If you still want to stay after you admit that it hurts then I won't kick you out.'

It was a very Kim Roksu thing to do.

"Brother," Cale asks one day at 15, impatiently brushing his hair. He gets scolded lightly, and Brother takes the brush from him. "I read in a book about something called a phone. Do you have one?"

Brother gives him a blank look. Then, as if it had been a lie, his expression changes into something kind and gentle. "Fone? Can you show me the book?"

Cale and Brother roughly root around in every book for anything like the so-called 'Fone,' coming up short.

"Maybe it was a dream," Cale excuses it like that, rubbing his neck. Brother looks at him, worried.

"It must have been. Get some rest, Cale." A kiss to the top of Cale's head, Brother hugs him and promises to bring him more paint. "I'll be gone for a few days this time. Do you want something?"

"Ah," Cale smiles, pressing his face into his Brothers neck to hide his face. "Could you bring me -------?" Brother freezes.

"... you-"

"I learned it from the books! This time I really did, Brother. Please?"

Slowly, Brother releases the tension in his body. "... If that's what you want. But you have to close the window if you're going to mess around with alcohol."

"Yes!" Cale jumps with joy. Then he suddenly runs to a bookshelf, changing the topic by talking about a book Brother brought to him last time. "-and I'd like to know if the sequel is out yet."

"I'll do that." Brother smiles. "You've been asking for more things recently, Cale." Brother settles a hand on his head, stroking his hair.

"It's because of my reliable older brother!" He grabs onto that hand, keeping it there, resembling a naive little brother who only has his role model in his eyes.

He sends his brother down the tower using his hair, and watches that spot of red disappear in the distance.

His face drops.

"... Bastard."

Cale turns on his foot. It's time to see Roksu.

[nervouspearl]

"Moiraine, please..."

[unloneliest]

the problem of the matter is i did internalize so much of what ex friend believed about me. even though i knew he was wrong and knew what was happening and tried to stop it and if i took more action to stop it would have been abusing power i held in a way i couldn't live with myself for.

[talesofwhimsy]

WHY?, “Sin Imperial" // Car Sear Headrest, “I Can Play the Piano”

[badassxbirdy]

She wore a grin of her own at Lance’s reaction to her childhood nosiness, but the humour in it soon drained when he reminded her of the elephant in the room.

I'm not the only one who wants to know.

Oh. She hadn’t thought of that. Far too concerned with letting the wrong thing slip to Lance, she hadn’t to considered the possibility that it would want to hear her answers too.

“It knows that it’s rude to eavesdrop, right?” She joked, giving his hand a gentle squeeze in return. “It’s okay. You ask whatever you wanna know, and I’ll be careful about which parts I answer, ‘kay?” Though now that he’d pointed out that the eavesdropper was still with them, Ty was a little torn about whether to tell him anything else at all. What was safe to say and what wasn’t, she had no idea. She also couldn’t be entirely sure how much the thing inside him would figure out on its own, or even how much of what she was thinking it could actually hear if it really wanted to. Not after the whole motel incident. Don't worry. Cambion. Your secret's safe with me. A memory that had her stomach tying up in knots.

She squashed down the uncertainty of it all as much as she could, trying to keep up the humour with another of her cheesy winks.

“Besides, you already know what my powers are. Hotness and badassery, duh. Don’t need witchcraft for that.” Powers. If that wasn’t just a whole other can of worms. A sensitive one to say the least. One best left unopened.

It was with great reluctance that she let go of his hand to continue finishing up her work on his hair, though it at least gave her a way to avoid eye contact herself while playing it off as simply focusing on her task.

“Pfft, as if I’d have let ya get away with it.” Jokes and teasing aside, his words on her friendship were truly nice to hear, bringing another little smile to her face despite the difficult subjects.

“Thought that already knowin’ he was an asshole goin’ in there would make it easier to keep my temper, y’know? But, uh, not so much. I actually felt kinda bad for security. Don’t think they went into work for the day expectin’ that to happen.” That being an angry Tyler, and the level of aggression that entailed.

She nodded, pretending not to notice the shaking. So many pretences. This was the most they’d talked about any of this stuff, the closest he’d gotten to telling her much about anything that had happened. The closest they’d gotten to so many things. As such, it was hard to know what to say, though she still had to bite her tongue to hold back those useless reassurances that were always threatening to burst forth. Kenny. The poor guy had refused to speak to her at all, but she’d got her hands on the police reports, both from when he had found Lance, and when he’d ended his life. Neither of them had been a pleasant read.

After a minute or so of letting the radio fill the silence for her, she glanced up, about to speak again, but stilled when she saw that look in his eyes. A look made all the worse by his words.

And there was that horrible feeling in her stomach again.

“Hey.” She grumbled, reaching out to give his shoulder a little squeeze this time. ”Don’t. Don’t do that.” Whether she meant speaking that way or acting on it, even Tyler wasn’t sure. Probably both. Either way, it came out a little stern, but more than anything, her tone was clearly worried. Alarmed.

I wasn't allowed. The second he heard that, there was a big grin on Lance's face, followed by a chuckle when she spoke out what he'd suspected already : no way she would've accepted that without trying to circumvent that rule.

"There she is" he even said with a big grin, honestly fond of it all. At least until things got more serious again. Growing tense when she said it. There are different ways people get that kind of power. "Tyler..." he tried but she was in full swing already which in return, prompted it to rear its metaphorical head again. Making it even more complicated and harder to speak up because it was hellbent on just listening, though eventually, he managed.

"I know that I'm the one who asked about the witch thing" he said with a strained sigh, having somewhat of a tough time keeping in control. "And don't get me wrong, I appreciate the insight and would love to know more about the inner workings of that coven and your powers. But I'm not the only one who wants to know. If you get what I mean" he went on through gritted teeth, rolling his eyes a bit when he heard it fucking chuckle because of his objection.

This was when he decided to reach out for her hand to squeeze it a bit. Not just to let her know that he still appreciated it, appreciated her, but also to ground himself, keep himself focused and on top of things.

"So best keep it vague."

It took Lance just a little bit, but in the end, things were calming down again as thankfully, it was done with its teasing already, still had no real interest in her. Thus the focus shifted back on his story, and even though that wasn't exactly an easier topic, it was the lesser evil, he supposed.

"Indeed. The guy has always been an asshole. Even before all that. Should've known that would happen" he growled a bit, though it mostly ended in a disgusted snort and shake of his head.

Lance's face fell when she told him about all the things she'd done and thought, swallowing thickly and looking away, though the ghosting got a sad little chuckle out of him.

"Chances of that happening would've been very high" he confessed, but shook his head and looked back at her. "But that wouldn't have been about you at all. You didn't do anything wrong. You were a good friend" he told her firmly, albeit bitterly. "You are, I mean."

He took a deep breath, followed by a slow exhale as he let everything settle.

"He found me" Lance told her after a while of struggling with the memories still, voice and hands shaking a bit again. "The caretaker. He felt really fucking guilty" he went on, very familiar with that feeling now. "He killed himself not long after that."

Lance swallowed thickly, the guilt overwhelming by now, but he knew it was no use starting a pity party. After all, unlike everyone else in this fucked up tale, he was still alive. Hadn't been murdered or driven to suicide. Yeah, no. He was fucking peachy in comparison. He shook his head some more, so....angry, frustrated, sad. All that loss. Senseless. Useless. Preventable.

Hazel eyes suddenly zeroed in on her. Sharp. Piercing, almost. Darker than what she was probably used to from him. But there was just something about this. Thrown out. He felt so very endeared by the effort she had put into it of course, that she had not just done some research, but gone to LA to demand answers. Still. It was easy enough to give in to the rage he felt over the treatment she'd been given in return.

"Trust me, I've got more than just a punch in store for the guy. He'll get what he deserves. And the fun part is that he doesn't even know it yet. But he will." he growled, not at all bothering to hide just what that could mean.

[butnotbubblegum]

Thinking a lot recently about the fact that within a wider group of friends there will be people you don’t like. And this is fine and normal and you just get on with them because that’s what you do. But when it happens in a smaller group which is tighter knit, what do you do then? If you try and do the same it comes across weirdly. Because the level of closeness with the rest of the group is on average higher than in a big group.

[phagodyke]

woke up feeling ruffff but took my meds and went back to bed for a while n I feel a bit better

[snekdood]

so august 2018 is when my peak being-crazy-made art craziness happened, huh