#but once he processed everything he was there for her

[scoutofmymind]

exLuigi x Reader. I want something juicy, queen!

Darkest Before Dawn — { Luigi x Reader }

Content: SFW, angst, bitter feelings, unrequited love, arguing, friends funeral, etc.

W.c: 3,236

Notes; A close friend of yours and Luigi’s passes, setting the stage for an untimely reunion in bitter circumstances — later facing the raw truth that sometimes it takes losing someone to find your way back to each other.

This turned a lil self indulgent for my need to get some angst out. I can’t help it. I love drama

The autumn wind carries leaves across your feet in lazy spirals, nature's own procession leading deeper into the cemetery. Your arm is linked with Maya's — she hasn't left your side since the news broke, and even now her grip tightens whenever your breath hitches.

The sea of black suits and dresses before you ebbs and flows like a dark tide, faces both familiar and strange blurring together through unshed tears.

Grief comes in waves.

One moment you're choking back laughter at Jamie's story about Olivia’s disastrous attempt at making tiramisu for your monthly dinner parties, the next you're biting your lip bloody to keep from sobbing when someone mentions how she used to be the most fun out of anyone to kayak with, rain or shine.

It shouldn't matter. Not today.

Not when Sarah's gone and everything feels simultaneously too sharp and too dull.

But your eyes keep betraying you, scanning the crowd between eulogies, during the hymns, through the quiet moments. Your ears strain past the murmur of condolences and shared memories, searching for that particular timber, that specific cadence that you'd know anywhere.

The laugh that used to rumble against your shoulder during lazy Sunday mornings, the voice that could fill a room without trying.

"He isn't here," Maya whispers, tracking your restless gaze as it sweeps the room for the thousandth time. "You can breathe." Her words are meant to comfort, but they settle like stones in your stomach.

Luigi didn't come.

You force yourself to accept this, to let your guard down as the ceremony begins.

The first notes of Olivia’s favorite Chopin nocturne float through the air, weaving between muffled sobs and shaky breaths. She'd played this piece herself, once, at your apartment's housewarming. Her fingers had stumbled over the keys of your secondhand piano, but her smile had been radiant.

The memory splits you open all over again, raw as that first night — the 3 AM phone call, the way your knees had hit the kitchen floor, how the world had tilted sideways and never quite righted itself.

And then, like a punch to the solar plexus, you see him.

Luigi.

Hovering in the back, looking like he's been assembled from broken parts. His hair is disheveled, his tie crooked, those warm brown eyes you once knew better than your own now bloodshot and hollow. He's swaying slightly, and you recognize the tells — one desperate cigarette on the drive over, black coffee clutched like a lifeline.

You've seen him hold himself together like this before, all fraying edges and stubborn pride.

Your fingers dig into Maya's arm, but you bite back the words. Let her think you're still alone in your grief.

It feels safer than acknowledging how your heart still recognizes his particular brand of falling apart.

You try to stay hidden in plain sight, but his presence is magnetic — always has been. That familiar electricity crawls up your spine each time his gaze finds you across the room. Even now, even here, his eyes carry that same concerned weight they did a year ago, like you're the one who needs saving.

You feel him everywhere, the way you always have, only now your carefully constructed walls have crumbled at the worst possible moment.

The reception becomes suffocating, all polite murmurs and half-finished sentences about how she's in a better place now.

You slip outside for air, and there he is — a portrait of barely contained grief on the church steps. His fingers work mechanically over Olivia’s AA coin, turning it over and over like a rosary whilst the cigarette between his lips burns dangerously close to the filter, more ash than purpose, as if he's forgotten it's there.

Something pulls you forward — muscle memory, perhaps, or maybe it's the voice in your ear, gentle but insistent: Sit with him. He needs you.

"She was so proud of this," Luigi murmurs, eyes fixed on the coin catching the dying light. The messages wear like prayers beneath his thumb — It's always darkest before the dawn, and One day at a time. The edges are smooth now from his constant fidgeting, as if he could somehow extract comfort from its worn surface.

Olivia had been more than just his neighbor — she was the thread that stitched your lives together.

You still remember her braces-filled grin when she introduced you at soccer team tryouts, convinced her two favorite people would hit it off. From there, it was a domino effect of shared milestones; friendship bracelets woven under summer stars, prom photos where Olivia pulled faces between you both, the three of you crammed into her ancient Volkswagen for driving lessons, and dorm room numbers exchanged like secrets.

And now here you sit, on opposite sides of a chasm she can no longer bridge.

Words feel inadequate, hollow in the face of such loss, so you stay silent. But your eyes betray you — they always did with him — filling with that mixture of concern and understanding that used to make him feel seen, now just makes him feel exposed.

"Oh," he groans, waving his free hand like he could physically brush away your gaze. "Don't fuckin' look at me like that — Please." The last word catches in his throat, raw and ragged, like it costs him something to say it.

You snap your gaze to the swaying trees, watching October paint its warning signs of winter across the landscape. Your spine straightens like a soldier at attention, fighting the tremor that threatens to shake loose more tears. "I just want to know you're okay."

Luigi's laugh is a broken thing, more wound than sound.

You feel his eyes boring into your profile, but you keep yours fixed on the dying leaves dancing in the wind. "A phone call would have been fine," he mutters, loading the chamber of your familiar game with practiced precision.

It's so perfectly Luigi — dropping emotional grenades at the worst possible moments, like he's testing if the blast radius of your shared pain has changed; you chamber your own round without missing a beat. "The phone works both ways," you fire back, the words carrying just enough bite to draw blood.

This is the dance you know best — this careful choreography of hurt, each of you taking turns to twist the knife a little deeper. It's muscle memory, really, born in the crucible of young love and forged in the fire of terrible timing.

The game never has a winner, just two people who loved each other so completely it became a fault line.

"I've got a lot on my plate," Luigi breathes, the words hanging as flimsy as tissue paper in the autumn air. His gaze burns into your temple with an intensity that's achingly familiar — that same scorching desperation you remember from late nights when his demons wouldn't let him sleep.

He's still that wounded boy underneath it all, wrestling with ghosts that never quite stopped haunting him.

"You don't think I do?" The words snap out before you can stop them, your head whipping around to meet his gaze head-on. His eyes are two bruised hollows, those warm brown irises you once wrote poetry about now floating in seas of red, crowned by shadows that speak of endless sleepless nights. "Yet I-" you gesture sharply at yourself, voice pitched low and razor-sharp, "had the fucking decency to show up on time."

The punch lands exactly where you aimed it, and you watch him flinch like you've slapped him.

It's a cheap shot, using his tardiness as a weapon, when you know damn well he probably spent hours just trying to make it out of his apartment.

But grief makes soldiers of us all, and today you're both armed to the teeth with things you shouldn't say.

Bang.

Luigi stared at you with those winter-dark eyes, and the world collapsed into a singular point of existence.

The distant traffic faded, the autumn wind stilled, even the harsh rays of the sun that peeked through the clouds hid behind them once again — leaving nothing but this moment, this breath, this unbearable weight between you.

You'd remember this look until your own dying day; the way his pupils dilated slightly, how his left eye still caught light differently, the precise shade of umber in his iris that you'd never quite managed to mix on your palette.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, but the words feel like ash in your mouth, too little and far too late.

You watch him fracture in real time, each carefully constructed wall crumbling like a condemned building, and somehow – impossibly – it only feeds the anger burning in your chest. "But just because I’m not an engineer doesn't mean my life is some cute little hobby. You don't have a monopoly on struggling, Lu."

Luigi recoils like you've struck a match against raw nerves, his entire body seeming to cave in on itself.

The cigarette, forgotten between his fingers, drops ash onto his pressed black slacks — the ones you know he probably spent an hour convincing himself to put on.

His jaw works silently, grinding teeth the way he always did when trying to swallow something too big to say.

"You think I-" he starts, then stops, pressing his thumb so hard into Olivia’s coin that his knuckle turns white. There's a violent tremble in his hands now, the kind that used to precede his worst panic attacks. "I couldn't-" Another false start, words crumbling like wet sand.

What he can't tell you is how he spent three hours this morning sitting in his parked car outside the church, chain-smoking through half a pack, trying to convince his legs to carry him inside.

How he threw up twice before leaving his apartment, the coffee and cigarettes his only defense against complete system shutdown.

How he's been sleeping on his couch because his bed feels foreign without late-night phone calls about recovery meetings and bad reality TV shows.

Instead, he just stares at you with those haunted eyes, and you see it then — the way he's holding himself together with safety pins and spite, one wrong word away from shattering completely.

I'm not okay. I haven't been okay.

His composure fractures further, a hairline crack spreading across carefully constructed walls.

The hand holding Olivia’s coin drops between his knees, dangling there like a surrender flag while his other hand rakes through his dark curls that haven’t seen proper care in days.

But you recognize the gesture — it's the same one from high school, when his father would show up drunk to soccer games, when college rejection letters came, when Olivia first went into rehab.

"You know what?" His voice comes out sandpaper-rough, caught somewhere between anger and anguish. "You're right. You're always fucking right." The words twist with something bitter, but the venom isn't meant for you — it never really was. "I should've been here earlier. Should've been there more. Should've-" He chokes on the rest.

The coin slips from his trembling fingers, pinging against the concrete steps. You both watch it spin, a dizzying dance of copper catching what little sunlight breaks through the clouds, before it settles face-up.

One day at a time stares up at you both, Sarah's mantra now a mockery — because how do you take it one day at a time when every day feels like drowning?

It’s always darkest before the dawn.

Luigi's shoulders shake with something that might be a laugh or might be a sob, with him, it's hard to tell the difference. "She called me, you know. Night before." His voice drops to barely a whisper, like he's sharing a secret he's been carrying around like a bullet in the chest. "I was busy. Said I'd call back in the morning."

"Lu,” Your voice cracks on his name, the anger from moments ago evaporating. You remember your own last conversation with Sarah — something trivial about a TV show she'd started binging.

How were either of you supposed to know it would be the last time?

"Don't." He cuts you off sharply, but his voice betrays him, wavering like it walked a tightrope. "Just — don't do that thing where you try to make it okay. It's not fucking okay." His hands are shaking so badly now that when he reaches for another cigarette, he drops the whole pack.

You reach for it automatically, and your fingers brush his as you both grab for it, making him jerk back like he's been burned, but not before you feel the cold clamminess of his skin. "When's the last time you ate something?" The question slips out before you can stop it, that old protective instinct rising up despite everything.

"Christ," he laughs. "You sound just like her. She used to-" He stops abruptly, swallowing hard. "She'd text me every morning. 'Did you eat breakfast?'" His voice trails off, and you watch him pick up her coin again, thumbing the worn edges.

"I have her last text," you offer quietly, pulling out your phone. "Want to see it?"

Luigi's head snaps up, eyes wide with something between terror and desperate need. "I-" he starts, then just nods, the simple movement seeming to cost him everything.

You pull up the message thread, trying to ignore how your hands aren't much steadier than his.

And there it is, timestamped 9:47 PM: “Found this stupid cat video, reminded me of that time at Lu’s when his cat jumped from the second floor onto the dinner table.. Miss you. We should do dinner soon.”

Luigi makes a sound like someone's just punched him in the stomach. "I can't- fuck," he breathes, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. "She sent me some stupid meme. I didn't even open it. I was in the middle of a work call and I just — I thought I'd have time."

"We all did," you whisper, watching a leaf spiral down between you. "That's the whole point of recovery, isn't it? Having time to fix things."

"Yeah, well," his voice is razor-thin, "turns out time's a real bitch that way." He finally looks at you properly, and the raw devastation in his eyes makes your chest ache. "You know what the worst part is? I kept the voicemail. Her last one. Haven't listened to it yet. I can’t -“

Your breath catches. "Do you want to? Now?" The raw and desperate need to hear her voice in something that isn’t a stupid video on your phone claws at you. "Together, I mean."

Luigi's hand tightens around Olivia’s coin until his knuckles go white again.

For a moment, you think he's going to say no, going to retreat back behind those walls he's spent years perfecting. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nods.

He fumbles with his phone, hands shaking so badly you have to help him hit speaker.

For a moment, there's just static, and then — her voice fills the space between you, bright and clear and so achingly alive it feels like being gutted.

“Hey, Lu. I know it's late, but... I've been thinking. About you and-" A pause, a soft laugh. “God, you're both so stupid sometimes, you know that? Life's too short to keep playing this dance. I see how you look at those old shitty Polaroids, how you both light up when I mention the other. Pride's a killer too, trust me on that one. I learned it the hard way."

Your hand reaches for Luigi’s, his grip crushing.

“Remember that time freshman year, after the accident? How you both stayed with me for two weeks straight, taking shifts so I was never alone? That's- that's what love looks like. Real love. And you idiots still have it, you're just too scared to admit it. So consider this your intervention." Another laugh, softer now. Sounds like she’s moving about her apartment, completing nightly tasks and having called Luigi to chat before bed. “Call me back when you get this. We'll figure it out together. Love you, dumb fuck.”

The message ends.

Luigi's breathing has gone ragged, each inhale sounding like it's being dragged across broken glass. "She knew," he whispers. "She always fucking knew."

"Lu-" you start, but your voice fails you. Because what can you say? That Olivia was right? That you've spent almost an entire year pretending not to miss him like a phantom limb? That sometimes you still reach for your phone to tell him about your day before remembering you're not supposed to anymore?

"I can't-" he sucked in a ragged breath, “I can't lose you both. I can't-"

"Hey," you say softly, your thumb unconsciously tracing circles on his palm. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

He makes a sound that's half-laugh, half-sob, his free hand coming up to cover his face, but not before you see the tears finally breaking free. "Last time I saw her, she made me promise we'd all have dinner together. Said she was tired of splitting holidays, of pretending we weren't all still family just because you and I couldn't -" He trails off, his shoulder shrugging as he groans, tilting his head back to unclog his nose and stuff the tears back where they belong.

"Because we couldn't get out of our own way," you finish. The truth of it sits heavy in your chest, all the wasted time, all the stubborn silence. "God, we're fucking idiots."

"She used to call me every Sunday, you know? Just to ask if I'd talked to you yet.” Another sniffle rips through him, “Every damn Sunday for almost a whole year."

You let out a wet laugh. "She did the same to me. Every Wednesday, like clockwork. 'Have you called Lu yet?' 'No, Liv.' 'Well, why the hell not?'"

"Sounds like her." Luigi's voice goes soft, fond despite the pain. His hand is still in yours, warm and familiar and terrifying.

The silence that follows feels different somehow — less like a wall and more like a bridge.

Olivia’s coin catches the light between you again.

One day at a time.

"So," you say finally, squeezing his hand. "What do we do now?"

“Well -we - we honor her, right?" Luigi looks to you again, his voice stronger despite the tremor in his hands. "Not just with words or - like - memories." He looks down at your intertwined fingers, then back up to your face with a vulnerability that makes your chest ache. "But by fucking stopping this war of attrition we've been fighting since-“

"Since the goddamn gallery opening," you finish softly. That night hangs between you — the argument that started as something small ended with eleven months of radio silence. "When you said my art was just a-“

"I never meant it," he cuts in, voice raw. "I was terrified, watching you risk everything while I played it safe. You were so brave, and I was-“ He draws a shaking breath. "I was a coward who took it out on you instead of admitting I hated my own choices."

"We can't get the time back," you say gently, watching his thumb brush over your knuckles this time instead of the coin. "But maybe,” You pause. "Maybe we can stop fuckin’ wasting what we have left."

[bueckersstuff]

REMEMBER

Click here for chapter: 1, 2, & 3

Chapter 4: New Life

You had come to terms with the fact that you'd never escape Paige. Memories of everything that involved her had begun flooding back over the past few days, piece by piece. But no one had to know—not even your dad. You just wanted to start fresh. And Paige? She was long gone from your life.

You were deep cleaning your room when your dad came in, his face serious. "Can we talk for a minute?"

You paused, wiping your hands on the towel. "Sure."

"So," he started, clearly hesitant, "I was thinking… maybe it's time for you to go back to school."

You froze, the towel dropping to the floor. "You're sending me back to New York?"

"No, honey," he said, his tone softening. "You're going to attend UConn. Is that okay with you? You can do some research if you want, so you’ll have an idea about the school." He continued, but you were already zoned out the moment he mentioned UConn. Only one thing came to mind.

Paige Madison Bueckers. Women's Basketball Star Athlete. UConn. You think maybe your dad is doing it on purpose, but then he doesn’t know that you remember Paige now. Or maybe it’s God, punishing you for lying to him.

You swallowed hard, trying to hide your reaction. "Yeah, sure. I mean… new scenery won’t hurt, right?"

Your dad looked relieved. "Great. I was worried you might not like the idea, but I already processed all your documents with the university. You’re scheduled to leave the day after tomorrow."

You nodded, your stomach twisting as the words hung in the air. What else could you say? You had no choice.

The day arrived. The University of Connecticut was not a stranger to you. But your dad had no idea. You’d been there once before, and just the thought of it made you grimace.

The first time you went was when Paige was in her second year. She kept insinuating how cool it would be if you showed up to one of her games, so you planned to surprise her by booking a plane ticket. You didn’t tell anyone, not even your parents in New York. It was mid-year, and you had classes the next day, so you’d need to return soon. You went to UConn to surprise Paige, but instead, you were the one who ended up surprised.

Before entering the Gampel Pavilion, you overheard murmurs about Paige being in a relationship with one of her teammates. At first, you couldn’t believe it. You were her best friend! She didn’t even think to tell you? You went inside anyway, determined to see her, but when you saw Paige with that girl from her team, your world came crashing down. The closeness between them was undeniable—different from the rest. You couldn't stop imagining yourself in that girl’s place, talking to Paige, her smiling, tapping your cheek just like old times. And that’s when it hit you. You weren't supposed to be the one in her life anymore.

Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them. The woman sitting next to you looked at you with confusion, but you couldn’t care. You stood up, running out of the arena, your heart breaking with each step.

After that, everything changed. You realized what you wanted—what you had always wanted and more. But by then, it was too late.

Paige has no idea what happened to you. Later that night, she texted you, informing you about her game. But you just couldn't bring yourself to talk to her. You turned bitter, but you also had no courage to actually tell her anything. Every conversation with her turned into arguments because Paige isn't telling you anything and keeps pretending like she doesn't have a girl waiting for her on the other side of the line. Or maybe they were together, you thought. You're always mad, so is she, because she keeps saying she can't understand you anymore. So you stopped trying.

Days passed, months, then a year. You heard nothing from her. Just the occasional glimpse of her life through social media, and you could see she was happy. Still with that girl. She completely forgot about you.

Then came the injury. You learned about it from the news, and you immediately went to your contacts, your finger hovering above her name, then pressed call.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end wasn’t Paige’s. It was sweet, warm, but unfamiliar.

"Hi, is Paige there? I just wanted to know if she’s okay? I’m her—"

"Ah, yes. Paige is fine," the voice cut you off. "But it’s best for her to rest right now. It’s been a long day. I got her, no need for you to be concerned."

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "Who’s this?"

"This is Azzi." Oh. Azzi as in the teammate number 35? The one rumored to be more than just a teammate. Your heart sank, but you didn’t press further. Paige was okay, that’s all that mattered. Even if your heart was breaking all over again.

Days passed. Paige sent you messages every now and then, but you never replied.

Hey, how are you? So, I happened to tear my ACL in case you didn’t know. Hey. Aren’t you gonna check in on me? I miss you. What happened to us?

You saw them all, each one digging deeper into the ache in your chest. But you remembered Azzi’s words. Paige was happy with her. So why would she need you?

"Excuse me." You snapped out of your thoughts, realizing your mood had shifted into something darker. It was your first day at school, and you didn’t want to carry this weight with you.

You turned, startled, and found a guy standing there, waiting for your attention. "Yes?" you replied, trying to shake off the sadness.

"Are you the transferee? I'm Luke, from the student council. I was tasked to be your guide for the day," he introduced himself.

You gave him a small smile and introduced yourself. He seemed friendly, helpful, and guided you through the entire day—showing you the Engineering Faculty for your schedule, then taking you to the Swim Club, a place your dad had convinced you to join.

By the time you were back in your dorm, it was already evening. You had one roommate, but she wasn’t here yet. The name on her door read "Hailey," so you figured that was her.

Around 8 pm, a knock came at your door. You opened it to find a tall brunette holding a paper bag.

"Hi, I’m Hailey! I’ve been waiting for you since yesterday, once they told me I’d have a roommate. Also, here." She handed you the bag.

"Hi, it’s really nice of you, but you didn’t have to bring me a gift..." You said, shyly.

"Uh, first off, I’m broke as hell, girl. Second, it’s not from me. Third, it has your name on it, so I assumed it’s for you. It was left at our door," Hailey said, grinning.

You looked inside the bag, and to your surprise, there were containers of food. A note simply read, "Dinner."

You frowned, puzzled. What was this about?

"Thank you, Hailey. It’s nice to meet you!" you said, still a little confused.

"No problem! I’m gonna crash now, though. Girl’s tired as hell." Hailey laughed and disappeared into her own room.

You closed the door, placed the bag on your study table, and examined the containers. But after a moment of thought, you shrugged. Maybe it was just a token from the school. You didn’t have the energy to dwell on it. You were tired, and you had school tomorrow.

The next morning, you got up early to get ready. You threw on some loose clothes that were a little too big for you. You didn’t like how you looked in tight clothes, always feeling too thin. You gazed into the mirror, a habit you're welcoming in your life again, one last time before leaving. Your long black hair, your pale skin, your black eyes… at least you were tall. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

As you walked out of your dorm, you noticed a white plastic bag by your door. But you didn’t have time to waste. You ignored it and headed to your classes.

Hours went by so fast. Classes were done, and you're walking now to your swimming club.

The first day of swim practice was intimidating. Still, you’d promised your dad you’d give it a try, so here you were. You’re excited but a little nervous, as you weren’t entirely sure what to expect. When you arrived, the pool area was bustling with energy. Swimmers of all ages were warming up, chatting with their teammates, and prepping for the day ahead. You are immediately drawn to the sense of camaraderie among the athletes. Everyone seemed to know each other, exchanging jokes and smiles, making it clear this was a tight-knit group.

You found your place with the women's team, and the coach, a tall, confident woman with short black hair, greeted you warmly. "Glad you could join us!" she said. "We've been waiting for you."

"Hi, it's nice to meet y’all." You introduced yourself to them warmly.

"Go change in the locker room so we can start with practice," Coach told you.

You stepped into the locker room, feeling the familiar wave of nervous energy. The room buzzed with activity as swimmers prepared for practice. A few glanced your way, but no one paid you much attention. You were the new face, after all.

"Hey! Transferee!" You turned to see a guy with messy brown hair and a friendly smile. He was tall, built—definitely a swimmer. Is that the guy from yesterday?

"Luke?"

"Nice to see you again. I’m on the men’s team." He grinned, extending his hand, which you shook. “I forgot to mention yesterday."

He then led you to the side of the pool where a few other teammates were gathered. “Alright, let’s meet the team. This is Mia," he said, pointing to a short, athletic girl who was busy adjusting her swim cap. “She’s a sprinter, one of the fastest in the team.”

Mia looked up and smiled at you, giving a quick wave. "Welcome to the chaos," she said with a laugh.

“Over there is Isaac," Luke continued, motioning toward a lanky guy sitting on the bleachers, flipping through his phone. "He’s our distance swimmer. Don’t let his chill demeanor fool you—he can swim a mile faster than most of us can run.”

Isaac lifted his head and gave you a lazy wave, flashing a grin. “Hey.”

"And that’s Ava," Luke said, gesturing to a tall, broad-shouldered girl who was stretching her legs by the edge of the pool. "She’s the team's powerhouse in backstroke."

Ava gave you a friendly nod but didn’t stop her stretches. “Nice to meet you,” she called, her voice calm and focused.

You smiled, feeling surprisingly at ease. The team seemed laid-back but also serious about their sport. You couldn’t help but admire how dedicated they were. They were all different, yet they worked seamlessly together.

Practice kicked off not long after, and you were quickly thrown into the mix. The coach, a no-nonsense woman named Coach Katie, had you start with some warm-up laps to get a feel for your speed.

Luke swam beside you during your first lap, offering tips and helping you adjust your strokes. “Don’t overthink it,” he said. “The water’s your friend. Just flow with it.”

You nodded, focusing on your breathing and the rhythm of your strokes. After a few laps, the nervousness faded, replaced by a growing sense of familiarity. The water felt less like a challenge and more like an extension of yourself.

The week flew by. Each day felt smoother than the last as you got used to the routine, your teammates, and the sport itself. Luke was always there to offer advice, but you noticed he also gave you space when you needed it. Mia and Isaac kept you laughing during breaks, and Ava’s quiet determination was contagious. And you've been having a good bond with your roommate, Hailey. It became a regular thing. Along with the magically popping food containers on your door step every day. But you think less of it, Hailey's the one who's enjoying all of it anyway.

You got into a groove with your training, and by the end of the week, you felt like you were starting to belong. Your muscles ached, but in a good way. You were pushing yourself, and it felt… right. You didn’t run into Paige once—not at the pool, not in the hallways, not in any of your classes.

It was as if she had never existed in this new chapter of your life.

For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were moving forward. There was no lingering past, no painful memories pulling at you. Just the present—the team, the practice, the friendships slowly forming.

Apparently, you learned that the team was gearing up for a competition the day after tomorrow. It’s currently the Big East season, and you’ll be competing against Villanova. It’s an away game, and Coach Katie needs everyone locked in. So, you spent your free time practicing with the team.

Competition Day. You’re all lining up to board the school bus for the swim team when you notice another bus parked beside it. Students in athletic gear are also lining up to board it.

“It’s the basketball team. I heard we have the same venue this time,” Mia explains as she notices you staring. “They’re playing Villanova’s women’s basketball team.”

You scan their line, your eyes searching for a certain blonde. There she is, you think. Paige is standing there, chatting animatedly with her two teammates about something funny. One of them has a number 10 on her gear. And there’s Azzi. If it isn’t Azzi Fudd.

Suddenly, you catch the number 10 girl staring at you and saying something to Paige, who quickly turns her head toward your direction.

Shit, were you caught? You're not supposed to know her!

Thankfully, it’s your turn to load the bus. As you walk up the steps and find a seat, you feel eyes on you from outside. You can’t help but glance back. There’s no harm in it as long as you don’t show any emotion or recognition, you tell yourself. The number 10 girl has a small smile on her face and shakes her head at Paige. Meanwhile, Paige is still looking at you through the window with a blank expression on her face. But what shocks you the most is Azzi’s expression. It’s a mix of recognition and something between troubled and apologetic.

You turn back around and take your seat then sighed. This is going to be a long day.

A/N: Don't get me wrong guys, I love Azzi very muchhh. She's a princess. This is just for the plot! Much lovee <3

Taglist: @sjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj @0phantom0 @authentic-girl03 @thelightknight21 @shartnugget26

[cravinganotherworld]

PART 1 : https://www.tumblr.com/cravinganotherworld/772151896142233600/amorous-squid-games-frontman-x-fem-reader?source=share

Amorous - Chapter 2, part 1. Frontman x Fem! reader.

The second game commences and your fear overtakes you, you feel hopeless and defeated but there is still a flicker of hope.

WARNINGS: Death, shooting, guns, swearing, mild mention of arousal, Young il talking down to himself.

NOTES: This chapter will be in 2 parts, in the next part there will be more interactions with Young il. Its a slow burn kind of story:)

Wordcount - 2.4k

Before now you had never struggled to get to sleep, being here with strangers made you feel uneasy and staring at the bunk above you didn’t help. Huffing lightly you get to your feet and try and direct yourself through the dark. You thought that maybe a bathroom break would help. Struggling to see apart from the bright ‘X’ and ���O’ on the floor you bumped into someone. Gasping lightly you go to apologise but they began to shout before you could.

“Ay watch where you’re going senorita damn” His voice was loud waking up many other players in the process. Your cheeks began to heat up as you feel the stares of those around you.

“I-I’m sorry it’s dark I couldn’t see I –“

“I’m sorry its dark I couldn’t see blah blah” The man mocked you making a crying face as he did so. Suddenly his face dropped and he stalked towards you. He roughly grabs your hair and pulls your head back. “Maybe you should open your eyes pretty girl, next time it won’t be so –“

“Let her go” a voice behind you speaks up, it was authoritive and strict and for some reason caused an ache in your stomach you had not felt before. Thanos moved his eyes from you glancing behind you and a smirk crept up to his lips.

“What’re you going to do Gramps? Beat me with your walking stick?” He laughed and turned his head to his friend who also began laughing.

“That’s no way to treat a lady” the voice once again spoke up.

“Oh yeah” Thanos’s grip on your hair tightened and he spun you around to face the stranger. You yelp in pain and tears once again well up in your eyes. You look up softly at the man trying to help you to see that he was already looking at you. Your eyes met and for a moment it seemed as though everything stopped. “What-“ Thanos steps forward forcing you closer to the man, his eyes leaving yours to look at Thanos. “are you – “ he steps you forward once again. “Gonna do” Thanos stops now leaving barely any room between you and the Player infront of you and smirks tilting his head to the side. When the player infront of you said nothing Thanos rolls his eyes and laughs. “That’s what I thought grandad” He leans down to your ear and whispers still looking into the players eyes. “You won’t be so lucky next time pretty girl” Your stomach churns as he lets go of your hair and pushes you towards the Player before turning around to walk away. You land in the players arms, your hands on their chest and you look up ready to apologise but see him already looking down at you, you recognized him as player 001. His grip loosened as he let go of your arms, gently moving you to the side and began to walk towards Thanos.

“Hey” he shouts out. You watch as Thanos turns around, with a smirk on his face.

“C’mon gramps, shows over” Before you could blink, Player 001’s fist connected with Thanos’s stomach making him fall back. He bent over clutching his stomach in pain, looking towards his friend who was now moving towards player 001. With ease player 001 put both Thanos and his friend on the floor, his hand wrapped around Thanos’s throat and hand in the air ready to punch. Under his hold you see Thanos gasping for air but to your surprise you felt nothing. No sadness or guilt. Lost in your own thoughts you hadn’t noticed player 001 retreat and walk back over to you. He gently brought you out of your dream state by placing his hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, are you okay?” he questions looking down at you with concern in his eyes. It took you a while to comprehend what he had asked but once you do you nod your head gently and smile.

“Yes…thank you for helping me, I’m not sure what I would’ve done” you confessed looking down at your shoes. He gently places a hand under your chin lifting your head up to once again meet his gaze.

“You don’t need to thank me, just stay safe okay?” he asks causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. His hand leaves your chin residing once more at his side as he walks past you, returning to his own bed. You look around the room seeing everyone’s eyes on you as you walk back to your bed, the need for the bathroom no longer a thought in your mind.

 You had stayed awake for the rest of the night, hearing the shuffling from the lady next to you and the soft snores of the player above you was enough to keep you up, if it weren’t for the images infiltrating your mind. As the hours passed by you grew more and more tired but your mind wouldn’t let you rest, your stomach churning and the flashbacks of red light green light, dreading what was to come. Soon enough the lights flickered on and the same song that awoke you yesterday played through the speakers. The large metal doors clanged open, and the guards began to flood in.

“Please prepare for the second game” Your heart dropped but you followed the other players to the games arena. As you all made your way into the arena you see two large rainbow circles on the floor. Your mind began to race what game could this possibly be? Your thoughts are soon interrupted as the rules of the game are introduced.

“To play this game you must be in groups of 5, there will be 5 games to play as you make your way around the circle, your legs with be locked in with another players, you will have 5 minutes to complete the game and 10 minutes to form a team. Your 10 minutes begin now”

Fuck, you think to yourself. I don’t know anyone. You begin to weave through the people already creating teams trying to find somewhere you can fit in. You could hear the timer ticking away in the background, everyone now appearing to be in a team. You begin to lose hope as you walk further through the crowd, there must be someone who doesn’t have a team. As the timer reached its final minute you begin to panic, you need a team or this is it…the end of the line. You stand still in your place frantically looking around when your eyes land on a familiar face. Player 001 was walking towards you. You breath a sigh of relief when he reaches you.

“Do you have a team?” You shake your head and before you can say anything he grabs your hand pulling you along with him to his team. When you reach them you see player 456 and offer him a small smile, he returns one before speaking to the team.

“There are 5 games to play Ddakji, biseokchigi, gong-gi, jegi, and spinning top, which does anyone feel most confident in?”

“I can do Ddakji” a small voice speaks up. It is player 222.

“I can do spinning top” Player 001 speaks.

“I am confident in Jegi, as the only other female player, would you like to play gong-gi?” Your stomach sinks at the question, Gong-gi was the only game growing up that you never played.

“Well i-“

“If I may, I am very confident at Gong-gi, I played with my sisters all the time growing up” You looked up in surprise at player 388 and nodded slowly.

“That leaves biseokchigi, think you’ll be okay with that?” Player 001 asks.

“I think so, I’m pretty good at knocking things over” the group gave a small laugh before you spoke again. “Before we start, I don’t know any of your names…could we all be introduced?”

“Of course, I am Gi-Hun” Player 456 starts

“Jun-Hee” the girl besides you speaks.

“Dae-ho” player 388 bows his head as he speaks his name. your head turns to the final player, player 001.

“Young Il” He smiles gently looking down at you. “And yours?”

“Oh of course, it’s (y/n)” you look around at your group happy that you finally knew their names when your eyes fall to Young Il. His attention was elsewhere, concentrated on what Gi-Hun was saying. As you watched him you noticed his dimples appear when he smiled, and the way his hair falls, he is like a work of art. Feeling your eyes on him, Young Il turns his head towards you, his eyes soft as he tilts his head to the side offering you a gentle smile. A deep blush creeps up onto your face, and you look away, following the other players as you sit an await your turn.

The more teams that played the more bodies fell to the floor. You watched as guards mercilessly shoot, clutching your jacket in your hand and the sounds ring out and closing your eyes tightly not wanting to witness the ruthless bloodshed. Behind you Young Il pays close attention to how you react, a sense of guilt and worry washing over him. He cannot reach you as Dae-Ho sits between you but all he wants to do is hold you in his arms and shield you from the pain. Lost in his thoughts he almost didn’t see the rest of his group stand up and walk towards the starting line.

 Shakily you take a breath as the guard clasps both locks on both legs shut and walks away signalling the game is about to begin and you look up towards Young Il, his gaze already on you.

“We can do this, I have faith” he speaks to the team and you all nod in agreement. “besides” he turns to look at Gi-Hun, “we have a previous winner with us”. With that the Square guard shoots his gun into the air and you all begin to walk in sync.

“left right left right left right” you all repeated together until you reached the first game. In one move Jun-Hee flips the red card over earning a yell of victory from you all and you once again link arms and continue on the path.

“left right left right left right” you reach your game and a sense of defeat washes over you. You can’t do this, your hands are shaking too much. The guard moves infront of you and hands you a stone, you had to do this you couldn’t condone the rest of the team to death. Closing your eyes you take a breath and throw the rock towards the other stone, missing. Your breath catches in your throat as you look up at the guard, they form an X over their chest and shout ‘failed’. Fuck

“Hey hey it’s okay, we’ll just go and get it and try again” Gi-Hun speaks up. Nodding away the tears forming in your eyes you link arms with Jun-Hee and Dae-ho and walk forward in sync with the team. You lean down to pick up the stone and you all begin walking backwards. Ensuring your feet are behind the line you throw the stone again, it landing just infront of the other. Once again you had failed.

“We still have time you’re okay” you all move forward to collect the rock and return to your place behind the line. Before you take your next throw a voice fills the air.

“Hey, look at me” You look up seeing Young Il looking at you, concern in his eyes. “you can do this, we have faith in you…I have faith in you” he offers you a small smile of encouragement and you nod your head gently at him, your gaze now returning to the stone in front of you. Gaining the courage to throw once more you take your shot. HIT. Your group erupted in cheers and tears of relief washed down your face as you all began to move forward. Dae-Ho passed his turn first try much to the groups surprise. In all your life you had never seen someone play Gong-Gi with such talent. As you reach the 4th Marker Young Il takes the spinning top from the guard and begins his turn. He misses his first try much to the team’s dismay as you had to go and collect the spinning top from ahead of you. You watch as his hands delicately wrap the rope around the spinning top, admiring how elegantly his fingers move, how his grip tightens when it began to get loose in his hands, and how he holds it ready to throw. The aching feeling in your stomach returning once again. He takes his throw but somehow it ends up behind you. Shit shit shit. Your mind begins to race not even realising you had moved in sync with the team to retrieve the spinning top and were now back in place behind the line. Young Il’s shouting brought you back into reality.

“You ruin everything you piece of shit, you’re worthless” Your heart breaks a little and you speak up.

“Hey” he turns to look at you, his hair messy and his breaths deep. “You can do this, we have faith in you” you take a breath, lowering your voice as you look into his eyes. “I have faith in you” repeating his words back to him that he had previously said to you. You watch as he gulps and nods his head towards you, hurriedly going back to wrapping the rope around the spinning top. You watch as he throws it landing perfectly spinning on its tip. You all erupted into cheers, relief washing over you all before continuing to the last game. With relief Gi-Hun completes the game with mere seconds to spare. You all rush towards the finish line crossing just as the time hit 0. You collapse to your knees taking in deep breaths as your chest tightens. You did it, you survived. Gun shot echoed through the hall forcing you to hold your hands over your ears and close your eyes tightly. Soon enough the shooting stopped but you don’t move, scared of what would happen. You feel a hand on your arm pulling you up and onto your feet. You look up to see Gi-Hun.

“We did it, we made it” he looks at you, giving you a reassuring smile before following the guards out of the hall. You follow behind him returning to the dormitory.

[o0chiyami0o]

Fuck everything, have silly lil Soap x F¡reader.

Got inspired by this tiktok vid.

Insomnia is a bitch, always are and always will be. You're up and stuck staring up at the ceiling of the room you shared with your boyfriend, Johnny, he's fast asleep as a snore leave his lips.

He just got back home few days ago and is dead asleep from tiredness. You turn your attention toward him, envy the man's good sleep before a miscievous idea pop on your mind.

You soon move to the edge of the bed, grabing one of many plushie near your side of the bed before you start moving back to the sleeping man, unaware of your plan.

As you stelled to sit next to the sleeping man, you start shake him away as you deepen your voice "Baby, babe?" You called out in a deep voice, trying to mimic a male's voice. At first he didn't budge, only letting out an incoherent grumble while he hugs the pillow he holding closer to himself but after the second called out from the deep voice of yours, his eyes open, well barely.

He look toward you as he squint his eyes "Our baby's crying" you say in the same voice you deepen, from the look he giving you, he seem like trying to process the though while his brain is still half asleep, maybe more than half but he seem to understand your words "feed it" you demand as you continue to shake him.

His brain is still half asleep as he tries to made up the words you saying, eyes squinting and brows frowning "the baby is crying, you need to feed it" you say as you push the plushy you grab before this toward him "why you soun' like tha'?" He ask in a rasp voice, barely get his voice from the sleep as he tries to mimic your lines in a incoherent sentence.

"The baby is crying, you need to feed the baby" you continue as you push the doll closer to him, the longer you use the deep voice the more it's harder to hold back your laughter "baby? Wha' baby?" Johnny ask in pure confusion, trying to make sense of your words while his brain barely awake.

"The baby you're holding" you say as you point toward the doll that already in his hold because of you which make him look down at the doll without even opening his eyes "Feed wha'?" He continue before you put the doll on top of his chest "she crying already, give her your tiddies" you say which recive a weird look from him, even with eyes still close it seem like he judging you.

"Huh?" He ask as his eyes finally open again, barely, eyes squinting at him "give her your tiddies" you say in the same deep voice before he let out a deep sigh and shove the doll into his shirt, lining it's nose to what seem to be his nipple before he soon fall back asleep.

You're not letting happend before you shakes him again "baby!" You called out for him with a makeshift deep voice but he doesn't seem to budge before you hit him once more "she gonna choke!" You say before he let out a whine as he took out the doll "she bit my nip" he say as he look down at rhe doll with his barely open eyes.

You blink twice before you swallow down your laughter in hope not to fail the prank you doing "she bit my nip" he repeat as he hold into the head of the doll which make you hold the back of his hand "s-she—" you need to cough to cover your laugher before you continue your words "she bit your nip?" You ask in almost shaky voice from how you tries to hold back your laughter.

He replied with a head nod as his eyes close, slowly going back to the dream land it seems before you shake him back to earth again "love, you need to change her diaper, it smelly already" you say which make him groan "wha' baby?" He ask as he turn on his side to look toward you with half open eyes.

"Your daughter" you say as you put the doll back on his chest which make him let out a deep sigh before he reach out to hold into your forehead "Bon, you sick?" He ask as he tries to look up at you with half asleep gaze before it soon close again and follow with his hand drop to his side again.

You sigh, this man prioritizes his sleep more than your prank. you soon get another idea before you soon let out a gas, capturing it with your hand before you put it close to Johnny's nose which make him gag and quickly sit up, still half asleep but manage to sit up from the smell which make you cough to cover your laughter.

"See? She need a change" you say as you give the doll toward him "diaper, where?" He ask, his eyes still close as he reach out for you to give him the 'diaper' which you give him a blanket close to you.

He accept it and wrap the doll with the blanket before he throw the doll toward you and fall back on the bed, back into deep sleep while leaving you to wheeze out your laugher, trying your best to not make much sounds.

Bonus:

"Bonnie, I've got weird dream yesterday" Say Johnny as he look toward you from across the kitchen "oh really? What's it?" You ask as you glance toward him, taking a sip of your coffee "I'm pregnant with your child" he say before you soon spit your coffee to his face out of suprised.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Zombie apocalypse Remus 🫣

oh oh this could be good!

Remus finds you under a fallen building. He'd heard screaming and barking and thought there'd been another attack, but it was morning and they were never out in the morning, so he'd hazarded a chance to investigate.

Your leg was trapped and the moment you saw a figure walking towards you without a limp and a gait in their step you nearly cried.

"Please help me." you murmur pain lancing through your leg as you lean back a little to look at the tall man before you. The golden dog near you yips and growls and you reach a shaky hand to her head.

"How'd you get stuck there?" The man stoops to be closer to your level. "I'm Remus by the way."

You tell him your name through a hiss. "It fell while I was" you hesitate. "I'm a researcher, I needed some books and my dog was keeping watch."

Remus sighs and smiles sympathetically, "What type of research?"

"On this whole thing, I had a lab some time ago."

"A scientist?" You nod and Remus smiles. "Ca you try to wiggle your toes?" he asks it when you twist a little and hiss.

You shrug a little hiccup breaking through your words as you try, "I think I am, but I don't know."'

He shushes you quietly, moving a few of the bigger pieces off your leg. You take the time to study him, there's a few scars on his face and hands, but he's beautiful and from the looks of things so far; very kind.

Remus is gentle as he gets closer to exposing your leg, "Moment of truth." he whispers and you nod.

When he removes all of the rocks, your boots come into view and he smiles. "These might've saved you, love." He tugs your leg free and you begin crying again, this time from happiness. "Can I take it off so we can see if anything's broken?"

You nod, "Were you a doctor?" the words make him chuckle and you feel yourself become just a little embarrassed as you watch Remus make delicate work of removing your boots and socks.

"No, but I have pretty clumsy friends. I've learnt what to look for."

You nod, "Maybe when all of this is over, you can actually become a doctor." Remus hums, a soft smile on his face as he pulls off your sock.

"Twist your ankle," you do it with ease. "Wiggle your toes," Remus hides a smile at the polish on your toes; it reminds him of the normal life you've lost within the last month and a half. "Everything seems perfect dove."

You smile, "Thank you for coming to help me."

"It's no problem, do you have any place to stay?" You shake your head as you slip your foot back into your shoe.

"Circe and I go from place to place together. She warns me away from the smell of death."

Remus nibbles on his lip as he stands too, "Well, I have a little hideout with my friends, I'm sure they wouldn't mind it if I brought you and Circe along."

You look up at him, eyes wide as saucers. "I don't want to encroach, there might not be enough food."

Remus shrugs, "There'll never be enough food. Plus you and Circe might be more help than hinderance."

"If you're sure." You sling your leather bag onto your shoulder and whistle to Circe.

"I'm positive, dove." You nod once as you take a few test steps that turn into you skipping over all of the fallen concrete and passing what your mind knows are bodies but your eyes refuse to process.

The world is a sleet of grey and red all over, it's only been a month and society has devolved to it's baser emotions- violence and greed.

You shake the thoughts away. "Lead the way then, Remus. Circe and I will follow."

[thekirammanjinx]

I want to scream about how much cycles play a big role in the story. S1 the first time vi loses her family, she gets "trapped" in this role of being Powders protector and feeling this heavy responsibility over Powder. Yes Vander is there, but he only helps amplify this feeling. Vi is the leader.

So then take Powder who gets rid of Vi's entire chosen family. And Vi is thrown in prison. And she's kind of stunted in her ability to fully grow/process without guilt and kind of stunted in worrying about Powder and worrying about how she failed as the protector/savior.

Moving on; caitlyn breaks her out Vi finally gets a glimpse of something she can fully have on her own choice. Caitlyn. This person who looks at her, not for protection not with expectations, but they're equal. She respects Vi as a person and listens to her and takes her feelings to heart. And Vi does the same for Caitlyn.

Moving forward more to the cycle of vi losing her family again. But this time she has something and someone tangible in her life that she chose that is not connected to this cycle. Caitlyn is not aligned with this cycle. When Vi believes she betrayed caitlyn again, in the jail cell, she thinks her choices once again backfire, but that was a choice that caitlyn fully opened up for vi to make. Vi was going to make that choice either way, caitlyn just moved a few road blocks.

Now vi wanted both jinx and caitlyn in this life that she would've chosen. But jinx understands that this whole cycle of vi not fully being within her own life is affected by jinx. You might say that's not a vi choice. But vi choosing to free jinx is a domino that affects that. Not everything is going to be vi's choice when other people need to still make choices as well.

If your only take is "jinx needs to be gone for vi to make choices" you are sorely missing the point. That's not the point. It just happened to be a sequence of the events. Also it eliminates how jinx is a toxic/ harmful aspect to vi.

Even at the end we see, we hear, we watch; caitlyn extending a choice to vi. Caitlyn looks at Vi and never tries to sway her. They are equals in their relationship.

Saying Vi lost her agency in season 2 due to her ties to Caitlyn, when Season 2 is the first time Vi makes choices that aren't related at all to her duty to her sister, or her duty to her city, but because she DESIRES and WANTS and LOVES Caitlyn, and not once does Caitlyn coerce her to do anything???? Sure, Caitlyn is flawed and hurts Vi, but show me one character of importance who doesn't hurt another person during the show. Especially someone they care about. Caitlyn is not perfect, but she is NOT the character who robs Vi of agency. She's the character who helps Vi realize she has it in the first place.

The idea that there's a sizeable audience out there that thinks agency for Vi means being a slave to her sister and to her city, the former of which spends the majority of the story too wrapped up in her own struggles to even process the pain Vi feels, and the latter of which never did a damn thing for Vi, never rewarded her for her sacrifices, etc. It speaks VOLUMES to how they view Vi and people like her. Vi is only allowed to make choices if they serve a greater purpose. Heaven forbid Vi choose something or someone that makes HER happy.

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 17

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: Y/n and Nesta’s presence is required at the River House, where two important announcements are made. This time, Y/n decides to not interfere with the dangerous choices her sisters are making. Later, a sparring session between Azriel and Cassian sparks an idea in Y/n.

WC: 2.8K.

There were two kinds of people after a fight. Those who let everything out before exhaustion took over and those who resorted to… other ways. After Elain’s visit, Y/n and Nesta were clearly upset. While Azriel stayed and listened to Y/n pour her heart out, unmoving as she tried to make him leave, Nesta and Cassian chose to resolve their feelings through other, more physical means, further complicating their relationship instead of resolving it.

At breakfast, Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta were seated at the dining table when Y/n entered. Today, she had no energy at all. She didn’t care that Nesta was in the room and just took a seat silently. Azriel was mid-question when she sat down. “Did something happen that I, as your chaperone, should know about?”

Y/n glanced between her sister and Cassian, and then it hit her. Cassian’s scent still carried traces of arousal. It was no secret that he was pinning after Nesta, but today something had shifted.

Azriel informed them that the three of them were to head to the River House. He hadn’t told Y/n that night before- granted, it hadn’t been the right moment, but still, this sudden summons felt overwhelming. She was not ready to face her family again, especially not after yesterday.

“Is it necessary?” Y/n asked, trying not to think about how vulnerable she’d been in front of Azriel less than a day ago. 

“Yes. Rhys requires everyone there.”

When they arrived, everyone was already gathered, except for Elain and Mor. Cassian went to kiss Feyre’s cheek, but a shield encased her. 

Azriel updated them on what he’d discovered. The mortal queen, Briallyn- the one who’d emerged old and cruel after leaping into the Cauldron, the one who wanted Y/n and Nesta dead, was after the Dread Trove: the three powerful, dark objects capable of granting their wielder unparalleled power. Y/n had never bothered to learn her name until today. 

Briallyn’s pursuit of the Trove signaled that the threat of war was once again looming. Ever since Feyre had been turned Fae, it felt as though war and ruin constantly lurked on the horizon. Y/n was sick of it- all of it.

Y/n remained silent throughout the meeting, while Nesta asked questions about these objects. 

When they discussed warning the other Courts, they decided against it. Despite claiming to want peace, they never acted like it. Y/n wondered how they’d feel if another court came across this information and withheld it from them. 

Their plan was to track the three objects now and then Elain appeared, peering in from the doorway. “Use me,” she said. 

Nesta shot to her feet, instantly protesting. Y/n remained silent. If Elain wanted to risk herself, then so be it. She wasn’t going to meddle in their lives anymore. 

The two sisters argued until Amren suggested Nesta search for it instead. Y/n wondered if that was all a trap to get her or Nesta to do their dirty work, sparing Elain in the process. The two sisters exchanged some hurtful words and Y/n remained standing like a stone, even when Nesta glanced at her multiple times, a silent plea for help.

“It wasn’t an easy choice for me to ask Elain to endanger herself like that,” Feyre admitted. 

And there it was, she might not have said it directly, but everyone would prefer if Y/n or Nesta endangered themselves instead of Elain.

“Why can’t you do it? You’re made and you have all this magic,” Nesta snapped. 

Feyre exchanged a look with Rhys before answering. “I can’t risk it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m pregnant,” Feyre broke the news. 

So it was true. For her new family, she’d forsake the old- or so Y/n thought.

Everyone rushed to congratulate the couple. Even Nesta muttered a quiet “Congratulations.” But Y/n was still standing there, almost forgotten as she was lost in her own thoughts. The room blurred around her as they discussed the Trove again, and Nesta finally agreed to help.

Rhys had wanted to discuss some things with Cassian and Azriel before they left, so Y/n had managed to slip off the back door quietly. Moments later, Feyre found her.

“Here you are.” Feyre’s voice was cautious as she stepped forward, her hands clasped in front of her. “I was looking for you. You didn’t say anything back there, I thought you’d-”

“You are always expecting things from me,” Y/n spun around to face her, eyes flashing. “Sorry to disappoint.” Her words snapped through the air like a whip.

Feyre flinched slightly but didn’t back down. “Y/n- that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what is it?” Y/n crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw tight. “What do you want?”

“I want us to be a family again.” Feyre’s voice softened, a raw plea in her tone.

Y/n let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and cutting. “A bit too late for that, don’t you think?”

Feyre’s brows knit together, her shoulders sagging slightly. “Is that what you really believe?”

Y/n’s eyes met hers again, hard as stone. “It doesn’t matter what I believe- it is what it is.”

Feyre’s lips pressed into a thin line as she stepped closer, trying to bridge the emotional chasm between them. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I can,” Y/n replied sharply.

Feyre took in a slow breath, steadying herself. “Is that what you want? To push me and everyone else who cares about you away?”

“If I said yes, what are you going to do about it? Will you finally leave me alone?”

Feyre’s throat bobbed as she swallowed thickly. “I see training hasn’t helped.”

Y/n’s bitter laugh returned, sharper this time. “You can’t have everything your way, Feyre. You can’t help those who don’t want to be helped.”

“Father wouldn’t want you to-”

“Don’t mention him.” Y/n’s voice cracked slightly, but she straightened her spine, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Ever.”

Feyre winced as if Y/n’s words had physically struck her. “Is that what this is about?” Her voice dropped, her features softening with quiet grief. “Because there was nothing you could’ve done.”

“I said don’t.” Y/n’s voice was low, trembling with restrained power. “You are pregnant and I can barely contain my powers, so please don’t push my boundaries.”

Feyre hesitated, her mouth tightening as she tried to hold back her response.

She finally spoke again, softer this time. “I have something I want to share with you and Nesta. Can you remain civil, or is that out of your control, too?”

“I can try, but I can’t promise you anything.”

As Feyre led her inside, Nesta was waiting in the hallway. It appeared that they’d already had a conversation before Feyre went out to talk to Y/n.

“Since Elain found out I was pregnant, I wanted you both to know first- it’s a boy,” Feyre informed them.

“The baby?” Nesta asked.

 The two sisters had a brief conversation. Feyre hoped Y/n would at least try- say anything but she didn’t. There had only been one time only when Y/n was extremely mad at Feyre when they were younger, but it had never been this bad. Y/n had quarreled with all her sisters over the years, but it never escalated to this point. Feyre wondered if it was because of the heightened emotions Fae-kind experienced compared to humans or if it was because of the trauma Y/n had experienced during the war. 

When their mother died, Y/n became cold and distant, but never like this. Even a few years later, when Y/n came home one day and pushed everyone away for over a month, it was never this bad. It was after that month that Y/n had gone to look for her biological father and secure some work. When she came to visit a few months later, she was softer, but it never occurred to Feyre what might have happened if Y/n hadn’t left after that month. Would she still have pushed them away? Stayed cold and distant? 

The sisters had asked her a couple of times what had happened that day when she’d returned, shaking, but they never got an answer. It was something Y/n carried with her to this day, something she’d tried burying deep inside. Time had dulled the pains lightly, but it never healed her. She had stayed too busy to think about anything else back then- always moving, always occupied.

But ever since becoming Fae, time felt endless. And when those feelings crept up on her, she’d thrown herself  into the war, thinking it would be enough to drown everything out. And after they’d won, she numbed the pain in other ways. Now, with no distractions left, it all resurfaced, rising like waves trying to pull her under. She was slowly breaking apart. 

Years of trauma were creeping to the surface. She’d never dealt with any of it- just ran from it, always running from her problems.

She hadn’t realized that one day, it would all catch up to her and there would be no more escaping them. 

One of her greatest struggles wasn’t that she didn’t care, it was that she cared too much. So much that it consumed her, filling every bone, every muscle, every vein with the weight of her emotions. She didn’t know how to deal with that, let alone talk to someone about it. 

Since she had always run from her problems, pushing everyone away felt easier. It was painful, yes- but in a very twisted way, it was also more comfortable.

“Ready?” Azriel’s voice broke through the haze, pulling her back to reality.

She blinked and realized they were standing at the front door with Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. Cassian had already flown off with Nesta moments ago.

“I hope you get through whatever you’re going through,” Feyre said softly.

Y/n hesitated for a moment before taking Azriel’s extended hand. As she prepared to leave, she finally muttered, “Congratulations, Feyre. I hope you’re happy.”

The next day as Y/n was heading to the dining room, she met Azriel halfway down the stairs. Ever since that night when she bared her soul to him, she had barely spoken to him. Avoiding him completely was impossible, so she opted for the second best option- minimal interaction.

“Good morning, Y/n,” Azrile greeted, his tone quiet yet warm.

“Shadowsinger.”

He opened his mouth as though to say something else, but Y/n quickened her steps, gaining a few strides on him. He got the message: she did not want to talk to him. 

When she reached the dining room, Cassian was already sitting in his usual place, and Nesta had just arrived a few moments earlier. Y/n took a seat, followed by Azriel. 

Cassian raised a brow at his brother, his expression suspicious. “Morning, Az. Y/n.” Then he turned to Nesta with a smirk. “Nes. How’d you sleep?”

Something was definitely going on between them. Y/n’s gaze flicked between the two of them before settling on Azriel, who only shrugged.

“Like a babe,” Nesta replied smoothly.

“I’ll be doing some training today before heading out,” Azriel informed Cassian. “I hope I won’t be interrupting anything.” 

“Not at all. We’ll be starting hand-to-hand combat,” Cassian said with a grin. 

Y/n perked up slightly- she had some experience in that area.

“My least favorite,” Azriel remarked as he grabbed a piece of fruit.

“Why?” Nesta asked, curious.

Azriel’s hazel eyes gleamed as he cast a brief glance at Y/n before returning to Nesta. “I like swordplay…Hand-to-hand is too close for my taste.” 

Interesting. Was he hinting at something? Or teasing a certain someone?

“He doesn’t like getting a face full of someone’s armpit sweat,” Cassian joked, biting into his bread.

“Show me how you two fight,” Nesta demanded.

Azriel blinked, caught off guard. 

Nesta continued. “I want to know what I’m up against.”

Y/n slurped her coffee, raising her eyes slightly to look at the two warriors.

As the three of them headed for the fighting ring, Cassian paused. “would you like to join us, Y/n?” 

Good thing he asked, because if he didn’t, she was planning to watch anyway. It was a sight she didn’t want to miss.

“You want to do a little sparring? It’s been a while since I wiped the floor with you,” Cassian taunted, his grin cocky as always.

Azriel was calm as he took off his jacket and shirt, revealing his muscular chest and abdomen. Cassian did the same. 

Y/n leaned against the wall near the water station, watching with mild amusement. She only glanced at Nesta once or twice without exchanging any words.

Cassian flexed his stomach muscles, earning him a disapproving look from Azriel,  who muttered, “Pathetic, Cass.” 

Y/n let out a soft chuckle, unable to help herself.

Noticing Azriel’s equally muscled form, Cassian asked, “Where the hell are you training these days?” 

Azriel answered nonchalantly, “Here- at night.” 

Cassian frowned. “Trouble sleeping?”

The Shadowsinger’s gaze flicked briefly toward Y/n before he muttered, “Something like that.”

Even that quick glance didn’t escape Cassian’s notice. His eyes trailed to where Azriel had been looking moments ago. He wondered if there was something going on between them. He hadn’t detected any scent of arousal from either of them-  but then again, Azriel had his ways of hiding things. 

The two Illyrians circled each other before beginning their sparring. 

“Come on, show me what you’ve been practicing all night long,” Cassian taunted.

Azriel only smiled in response.

Nesta raised a brow. “Is this how you usually fight? By circling and taunting each other?”

Before she could finish her thought, the brothers began exchanging blows. Each punch was blocked and countered with precision. Some hits found their targets, but the brothers did not use their full strength- otherwise, they’d have been dragging each other to the healer with broken bones. 

Y/n found herself enjoying this far more than swordplay, for the simple fact that here, blood could be shed, and punches would hurt. In swordplay, she couldn’t draw blood unless it was a real battle. Sparring with blades was just a contest to see who could disarm their opponent faster with a few precise moves. Hand to hand combat, though exhausting, demanded more. It required more- was raw, more violent- even in practice.

After a while, even though both warriors could go for hours, Cassian decided to wrap it up, seeing  had an actual lesson to teach. “Whoever lands the next blow wins,” he declared.

Azriel scowled. “That’s ridiculous. We go until one of us eats dirt.”

He was competitive, and Y/n was just discovering this side of him. Unlike Cassian, who was arrogant and boastful, Azriel was always the quiet, sneaky, calculating one- always outsmarting his brothers at every turn. It’s why, over the centuries, he’d won more often than either of them in whatever games they played.

Azriel managed to trick Cassian by widening his eyes at Nesta as though something was wrong. When Cassian followed his gaze, Azriel’s fist shot out and landed a solid punch to his brother’s jaw. Cassian stumbled back, rubbing his chin.

Azriel smirked as he walked to the water station. Y/n was already there, handing him a cup of water. 

“For someone who hates hand-to-hand combat, you’re pretty good at it,” she remarked, tilting her head as she studied him, still leaning against the wall. 

He gave a slight nod, his lips quirking as he took the cup from her hand.

She hesitated before asking. “Will you be back tonight?”

He met her gaze. “Do you want me to be?

She rolled her eyes. “Will you, or will you not?”

“Ever so impatient, Y/n.” His eyes softened. “Yes, I will be back.” 

The truth was, he wasn’t planning to. But seeing that unspoken plea in her eyes changed his mind. He knew she’d never ask outright- so he’d come.

“I want to train with you,” she admitted suddenly.

Azriel blinked. “I thought you-”

“In hand-to-hand combat,” she clarified.

He crossed his arms. “Why the sudden change?”

Her eyes flicked toward Cassian. “Let’s just say there’s a certain grin on someone’s face I’d like to erase.”

Azriel followed her gaze and gave a knowing nod. “That’s going to take more time than you think and… it won’t be easy.”

“I don’t want easy,” Y/n replied with a smirk. “And the longer it takes, the sweeter the taste of victory.”

And the longer it took, the more time she’d spend with Azriel- the more excuses for physical contact they’d have. And to touch those muscles- nope, that was definitely not why she wanted to train with him.

Tags: @st4r-girl-official @judig92 @5onedirection5 @nayaniasworld @blackgirlmagicforever @stained-glass-eyes0708 @slytherintaco @aehllita @nebarious  @t0uch-starved-h0e @bravo-delta-eccho  @sylvermoon @going-through-shit @latinxbipride @i-am-infinite @azrielrot @fuckingsimp4azriel @theravenphoenix26 @hanatsuki-hime @fantanbietsson @rcarbo1 @weasleymagic @secretsicanthideanymore @spymaster03 @elaselat @minnieoo @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @daughterofthemoons-stuff @jojodojo02 @questionmymentality @romantasyreader28 @cassie-at-college-blog @dabiloverphoenix @hippop345 @fan-of-many-bands @freefalls06-blog @yesiamthatwierd @ms-dont-care

[moonlight-tmd]

Hey, sorry if I'm bothering you or anything. But I am curious, like what would happen if Bumblebee is a femme (female), and what are his teammates and crushes reaction to that?

Well, that's interesting.

There could be two takes on that, either she is a femme by forging or some freak incident with the allspark shard happened and turned him genderbend.

In my mind Cybertronians are aliens so they don't really need to represent themselves as male/female. I'd say the population is about 2/3ds of them having binary pronouns and expressions while the rest just does their own thing. Of couse, while this is a fairly common thing, that doesn't mean where aren't bad things like sexism or xenophobia (mostly towards warframes cuz majority are Decepticons).

If you're in a bad part of town, you might stumble into these types of bots. Minibots aren't takes as seriously as a normal civil frame would, but the lower in morale you go you'll find that these shady folks often treat minis as lap pets.

If Bee was a femme by forging she'd have a hard time staying out of trouble considering most mechs tried to harass her over he frame. Even if she wasn't the most femme-looking and curvy it was quite obvious she was in fact a femme. Most often than not mechs would comment on her big chest kibble.

Wasp was one of those mechs, he'd constantly try and grope the fellow mini and try to intimidate her to be his sparkmate ut it never worked. He thought she was playing tough but in reality she just wanted away from this creep. Thankfully Bulkhead turned out to be different; the mech tried to approach her many times and she just thought he wanted to hit her up too. Took a while and a Bulkhead defending her from Wasp to realize he just wanted to befriend her.

In case of crushes, Bee had 3; Longarm from the times of boot camp. Prowl from their times on earth and Blitzwing who she inconveniently found attractive during their battles.

I don't think it would be much different form how Bee would be treated as a mech. I mean, Longarm was essentially a school buddy, they got along well, maybe something blossomed and it only became something serious once on earth.

Prowl is the exact same, he'll treat Bee the same way he'd treat him as a mech. But I can see few folks teasing him about having no sense of personal space when he and Bee are bickering. Who knows, maybe one day after a much heated fight between the two, Prowl will wake up and realize Bee has been on his mind all the time and is not as annoying as he makes himself believe.

Blitzwing- honestly, he'd be smitten the first time he sees her. He's been trying his luck in the Legion but everyone always turns him away, mostly due to his condition. But then he sees this tiny cute femme with sharp glossa and visible enjoyment for odd things and he's all over her. He'll flirt in the middle of the fight and pretend they're dancing and not trying to off one another. He'll bring her flowers and stolen objects he'd think she might like, Bee is so tired of this adorator but at the same time she really enjoys it. The others are just annoyed at his courting.

If Bee was somehow turned femme on Earth it would be pretty funny. I've actually had an idea a while back on this.

They were trying to reach the shard but it was one of the unstable ones; it caused everything around to go haywire and, as one of the weirdest things it did, it transformed various machinery into other things. Like forklifts shifted parts to become ice cream machines spurting oil, that sort of thing. They managed to get it but of course, Bee has been hit in the process. he woke up and only after the others saw him he realized what happened. He was a tad more curvy than his mech self, his subspace was now hanging from his hips and he has door wings. His horns were a bit thinner and longer and his peded gained heel struts much like Prowl had. Even his voice shifted to be on a higher note.

At first he was freaking out but over time he got used to it, maybe even like it. The others were sure surprised and had to adjust but there wasn't much issues. Well, except Optimus who seemed a tad uneasy at the sight whenever they spoke.

I would say Prowl was definitely surprised at the sudden change, more surprised when he caught himself being nicer towards Bee in general. They were working on a way to reverse this back since Bee seemed to want his old look back but overtime Prowl noticed Bee changing his demeanor when speaking on the topic. One time he approached the scout when he was sitting alone on the roof and asked what was wrong. Bee then asked him if how he'd feel if he stayed like this instead of going back to his old self.

Prowl didn't expect that but said that if he wants to stay like this he should do it. Bee confessed he has grown to enjoy being a femme, he was glad the one he cared about the most was supportive of it. Ratchet understood too, he just wished Bee would've told him sooner so he wouldn't have spend a good amount of their resources preparing for the frame upgrading. And so Bee officially became a femme and even switched his pronouns to be she/her. It was a short while before everyone got the hang of it and all was good. Well, except Sentinel who now not only harassed Bee cuz he hated him but also was being a creep. But except for that all was good.

Blitzwing's reaction would be when they are already dating and Bee shows up wearing a blanket, covering it up as him being cold. At some point Blitz accidentally rips the blanket off and sees Bee's frame. He wasn't sure why Bee was so nervous about it, those were great upgrades! Then he heard how he got those "upgrades" and it made sense. He still loved Bee and didn't care one bit about his new look- well, except the door wings, he couldn't get enough of them and knowing all the common sensitive spots for flight frames he had one hell of a fun time watching Bee be all flustered and fluttery when he touched them. When Bee showed up to another meeting with much more confident attitude he knew something was up. Bee told him about the plans to bring back his old look so he was quite surprised to hear that was scrapped and Bee was a she now. Of course he gave her extra loving that night and maybe they discovered a few new things about her anatomy. Blitz certainly enjoyed every bit of his new-old Bee.

Idk is Longarm/Shockwave would care much. Longarm is more on the mech expression, Shockwave has nb vibes with he/him pronouns. He'd support Bee during his journey of coping and discovery and he'd be happy when Bee finds his new self that he's happy with. i'm not really sure what to write here tbh.

And that's it. Hope you liked it!

[pastafossa]

The Matt as a father made my heart brr.

It does make me wonder what Jane and Matt would want in their future? Whether it’s just a cat, bird, or a bunch of turtles from a sewer. Or maybe just no animals and just them and their friends. I’m curious

TY! It was definitely a warm and fuzzy post! I see no reason we can't acknowledge the difficulties he'd have as a parent (both as someone with trauma and as something with super senses), because it makes all the time, love, and effort he'd put in that much more meaningful. And God knows he'd love that kid with everything in him.

And oooh, this is a fun question! So I will say they are going to eventually get a cat (I did a oneshot about it a while back and it did well, and since I'd kinda always wanted to bring a cat into TRT, we're going to roll with it with some adjustments). That's going to become TRT canon! Ciro always had cats so Jane has a nostalgia for them, and that cat will also be a vehicle to help process some of her trauma (I haven't delved heavily into it yet, but her vague mentions of cats being 'fellow subjects' while she was held by Cyrus James will tie into this). Likewise, I'm on team, Matt needs a cat. I believe it would be really helpful for his mental health to have this little animal who just adores him, all these happy little purrs and cuddles, and a reminder that Matt's allowed to nurture something good, he's not going to kill whatever or whoever he touches. Matt's got his own emotional hangups there, but he'll work through it like Jane does. And once they're in that boat, I see them as always having at least one cat around, if not two.

ALSO GOOD CATCH ON THEIR TURTLE FRIENDS, THAT IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE RUNNING JOKES IN THE FIC

The one thing in this arena that I won't ever make official TRT canon about their future is whether they wind up with kid(s) or not. That's something I feel is incredibly personal and so I want to leave that open for people to decide themselves - do they have no kids? Just one? An entire football team? Your choice! I'll support it all as potential options, and in each of those? They're happy, whether that's the two them growing old and sitting in their red rocking chairs, having lived a long, happy life with their friends and cats and the Nelson clan who sees them as family, or as two parents to a herd of much loved kids and eventual parkour inclined grandkids.

That said, I did have the hilarious idea for a short What If oneshot involving them and their potential five-year-old daughter, who would be the bane of the principal's existence due to her penchant both for swearing and for questioning the justice of various school rules she does not agree with. But I'd mark that very clearly as a What If, and not as canon. It would just be a fun thing for me to explore because I think it would be hilarious.

[commsroom]

i wouldn't be surprised if you've posted about this before (and that's awesome) but i wanna know more about how you think eiffel sleeps. side sleeper? back sleeper? curl up? take up a lot of space? move around a lot? do you think he wakes up in funny positions? does he need light and noise to fall asleep or do light and noise prevent him from falling asleep? aaaaand anything else you can think of

oh, definitely moves around. he gets himself cozy and wrapped up under the covers, but he's generally sweaty and kind of a human space heater, so he ends up kicking everything off the bed in the middle of the night and then wakes up sprawled in the optimized position to give himself a cramped neck all day. sometimes this means he wakes up cold in the middle of the night and repeats the process. snoring loudly, of course. he canonically snores. has probably snored loudly enough to wake himself up before. drools at least sometimes. he's a restless sleeper and he never feels properly rested when he wakes up.

when he first moved out on his own, i think he liked the idea of being a guy who sleeps in a hammock, but he didn't think about the logistics of it at all and it made him miserable. he probably wanted a waterbed, but avoided whatever disaster would've happened if he'd actually managed to get one. he's a mattress on the floor with no bedframe type of guy. multiple pillows. sleeps in his underwear, at most, if he doesn't just pass out in his clothes.

he has a hard time falling asleep when he intends to sleep - he's overcaffeinated, his mind is always going, and he self-sabotages - but he can still somehow fall asleep just about anywhere, and once he's out he's completely dead to the world. he definitely doesn't like complete darkness/silence; if there's one thing eiffel is not good at it's being alone with his thoughts. he's probably used to falling asleep with the tv on; he's fallen asleep on the couch many many times. the background noise on the hephaestus takes some getting used to.

he definitely talks in his sleep; i think he's the kind of person you can have a full conversation with while he's responding from within his dreams. hera finds it really amusing to ask him questions while he's sleeping, and when he wakes up he'll tell her she was in his dream, and she'll just be like, "oh, really?" when he shares a bed, he's a full-body cuddler, but he still manages to steal the entire blanket and - again - throws it off the bed in the middle of the night.

[brklynbxby]

Leo stood rooted to the spot, the weight of Aida’s words crashing into him like waves against a cliff. His jaw tightened, a muscle flickering beneath his skin, and his eyes, dark and stormy, burned with a raw mix of emotions—hurt, disbelief, frustration. He wanted to cling to the anger, to let the bitterness he’d carried for years rise up and shield him from the vulnerability threatening to crack through. But as her trembling voice wrapped around him, as her hands gripped his sleeve like it was the only thing anchoring her to the moment, that anger began to fray, unraveling thread by thread, no matter how tightly he held on. His lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came. Instead, he looked at her—really looked at her. The way her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the way color bloomed high on her cheeks, and the way her chest rose and fell with every unsteady breath. She was close now, too close, and the heat radiating from her seemed to seep into his skin, setting him alight. He could see the tremor in her fingers where they clung to him, feel the electricity crackling in the scant space between them. The air was thick, charged with something dangerous and unspoken, a magnetic tension neither dared to break. 

"Do you have any idea what that did to me?" His voice was low and jagged, as if pulled from somewhere deep within him. "What it felt like to have you tear me down every chance you got? And now you’re standing here, telling me it was all because you couldn’t handle your feelings? That’s… that’s really fucking messed up, Aida." His head shook, his expression a mix of disbelief and something sharper, something vulnerable he couldn’t quite hide. "Really. Fucking. Messed. Up." He exhaled harshly, dragging a hand through his dark, unruly hair, his fingers trembling at the edges. The same girl who had made him hate himself, question his worth, and doubt his place in the world was now standing here, saying she’d always felt the opposite. It was like the ground beneath him was shifting, and he didn’t know how to stop it. 

"Damn it, Aida..." His voice softened, rough around the edges but laced with something almost tender. He pushed off of the counter and started pacing up and down the kitchen. His eyes searched hers each time he faced her again, dark and intense, as though he was desperate to find the truth in her confession. "Why does it still feel like you’re the only one who gets under my skin? Like you’re still in my head after all these years, no matter how hard I try to forget you?" He broke off, a hollow laugh escaping him, tinged with frustration. "I fought a guy out there because I didn’t like the way he touched you, the way he talked to you. And for what? Why the hell should I care about any of that?" His voice cracked, and he ran a hand down his face as though trying to wipe away the feelings spilling over as he continued pacing. But the words kept coming, pouring out in a torrent he couldn’t control. "Why should I care about some guy who talks shit to you? Or touches you like that? Or the fact that you’re letting someone wear your ex’s clothes? Or who you patch up after a fight? Or who you say all this shit to?" He continued as though his exterior was pushing all of this out before he could really process that he did. He gave a damn about it all. And that's exactly why they were stood here right now. He swallowed hard and stopped pacing, his chest rising and falling as though the weight of everything was finally too much. He was now stood on the opposite side of the kitchen to her. The realisation hit him all at once, breaking down every wall he’d built to keep her out. She had pushed him into this version of himself, into the man he’d fought to become. Her brutal honesty, her merciless teasing—they had shaped him, forced him to find strength he hadn’t known he possessed. He hated her for it, but god, he was grateful, too. His gaze flicked to hers, and the tension between them reached a fever pitch, the air charged with the electricity of everything left unsaid. The fire in her eyes only fueled the one burning in him, and before he could think better of it, he moved.

With a growl of frustration and desire, Leo surged forward, his large, muscular arm snaking around her waist in one fluid motion. His forearm, strong and corded with sinew, pressed firmly against the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. The heat of his body enveloped hers as his free hand slid up, fingers threading into her hair at the nape of her neck, his grip firm but gentle, anchoring her to him. And then his lips crashed onto hers. The kiss was a storm, wild and consuming, a heady mix of frustration, longing, and years of unspoken emotions finally unleashed. His lips were rough yet searching, demanding yet vulnerable, tasting of everything they had been too afraid to say. 

Aida’s eyes widened in disbelief as Leo spoke, the words sinking in like a heavy weight. You’re confused? She couldn’t believe it. After everything, he still didn’t know how she felt about him. She stood there, her heart thudding in her chest, feeling a mixture of disbelief and frustration. How could he not know? How had he not seen it back then, when she was so stupid, so naïve? She’d wanted him then, too—maybe even more than she wanted to admit, but instead, she’d taken the easy way out, hiding behind cruelty and teasing. She hated who she used to be. The guilt that followed her now felt like a weight she couldn’t shake off, no matter how hard she tried.

She inhaled sharply, pushing the thought of her teenage self aside. She wasn't that person anymore. She wanted to tell him that, wanted to explain, but the words tangled in her throat.

"I—" Her voice faltered before she steadied herself, forcing her gaze to meet his. “I didn’t know how to tell you back then. I couldn’t even admit it to myself." She bit her lip, a frustrated sigh escaping her as she stepped closer, the words tumbling out, each one heavier than the last. “I thought you were cute back then, Leo. I really did. I don’t know why I acted like I didn’t. You were this adorable nerd, with your big glasses and your shy smile, and I... I just couldn’t handle it. I didn’t know how to handle you—I was too busy trying to be someone I wasn’t. Trying to fit in. And now, I’m standing here, hearing you say that you dont think i want you, and I—I don’t know what to do with that."

Her breath quickened, the reality of what she was saying hitting her all at once. The guilt of how she’d treated him back then still gnawed at her, and she could feel her chest tighten with the weight of it.

She exhaled sharply, finally speaking the words that had been buried deep within her for so long. "And yes, of course, I wanted to clean you up after that fight. But it wasn’t just that, Leo. It wasn’t just about bandages and ice packs. It was about you. It’s about you being here, with me, right now. I wanted to talk to you. I needed to talk to you. And I’m so sorry for the way I treated you, but I can’t keep pretending that it wasn’t always you I wanted to talk to. You’ve always been the one who got under my skin, even when I tried to push you away."

Her heart was racing now, the words pouring out faster than she could contain them. "I’m not that person anymore, Leo. I haven’t been for years. I want to fix this, if you’ll let me. But I need you to understand—this isn’t about the past anymore. It’s about now. And I don’t want you to walk away." Aida took a step forward, her hands trembling as she reached for his sleeve, the touch tentative, but desperate. "I need you here, Leo. I always have."

[everythingxh]

A Mafia’s Weakness: The Series

Y/n’s mornings are usually predictable—an alarm at dawn, a rushed commute, and a long shift at the café where she daydreams about a life beyond her humdrum routine. Today, however, is different. Her best friend Jay has promised to visit, giving her something to look forward to. But everything shifts when she meets him.

A towering man with dark eyes and a leather jacket, he’s as cold as he is mesmerizing. Their first encounter in the elevator leaves her heart racing and her mind swimming with questions.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, this man isn’t just a stranger. He’s part of a powerful mafia, a world as dangerous as it is alluring. Though he keeps his distance, his presence pulls her in, leaving her torn between fear and fascination. As her soft heart begins to crack his icy exterior, she learns that love isn’t as simple as she once thought—especially when it comes with secrets that could shatter her world.

In a tale of forbidden romance and hidden danger, Y/n must decide: can she survive loving someone whose life is built on lies, or will she lose herself in the process?

001

002 coming soon

003

004

005

006

007

008

[andy-15-07]

Pleaseeeeee wrote a part two to ashes and hope??? With a baby maybe 🥺🥺🥺

Ashes and Hope II

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Word count: 1477

Pedro Pascal Masterlist | Ashes and Hope

The snow had melted into streams trickling through Jackson’s streets, carrying with it the remnants of winter’s icy grip. The town hummed with life. People planted crops, repaired fences, and carried supplies through muddy paths. Birds sang in the trees, their melodies weaving through the crisp morning air.

Y/n wiped her brow, stepping out of the greenhouse with a basket of herbs. The days were growing longer, and with them came a rare sense of peace. But something had been gnawing at her—a fatigue that seemed deeper than just hard work.

She couldn’t ignore the nausea anymore, or the way her body had felt heavier in recent weeks. So, she’d gone to Maria.

Now, sitting in the clinic with the sunlight streaming through the window, Y/n stared at her hands, her mind racing.

Maria entered, a warm but cautious smile on her face. She held a small notepad, though it seemed more for habit than necessity.

“Well,” Maria said softly, breaking the silence.

Y/n’s heart thudded. “Just tell me.”

Maria sat beside her, her smile growing. “You’re pregnant.”

The words hit like a wave. Y/n’s breath caught, her hand instinctively resting on her stomach. “Pregnant,” she repeated, her voice barely audible.

Maria nodded. “About ten weeks, I’d say. How do you feel?”

Y/n exhaled shakily, her eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t know. Scared. Happy. Everything at once.”

Maria placed a comforting hand on her knee. “That’s normal. But you’re strong, Y/n. And you’re not alone in this. You’ve got Joel, Ellie, and the entire town. We’ll be here every step of the way.”

Y/n managed a small smile. “Thank you, Maria. I just… I need to tell Joel.”

The porch swing creaked under Y/n as she rocked slowly, the horizon ablaze with the colors of sunset. Her hands rested in her lap, clutching a blanket Ellie had gifted her last Christmas.

Joel stepped out of the cabin, a beer in hand. He paused when he saw her, a familiar frown tugging at his lips. “You’ve been quiet today,” he said, taking a seat beside her.

She glanced at him, her chest tightening. “Joel, there’s something I need to tell you.”

His posture straightened, concern flashing in his eyes. “What is it?”

Y/n took a deep breath, her fingers gripping the blanket. “I went to see Maria today… Joel, I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air, the world around them falling silent. Joel blinked, his jaw tightening as he processed what she’d said. “You’re… pregnant?” he repeated, his voice low.

She nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. “I didn’t plan this. I didn’t think it could even happen. But it has, and I’m—”

Joel reached out, cupping her face with his rough, calloused hands. “Hey. It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Tears spilled over as she leaned into his touch. “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “No, Y/n. I’m scared outta my mind, but mad? Never. This… this is a miracle.”

Her lips trembled into a smile as she rested her forehead against his. “So we’re doing this?”

He nodded, his voice firm. “Yeah. We’re doin’ this.”

As spring turned to summer, the baby became a part of their daily lives. Ellie was ecstatic, peppering Y/n with questions and devising names that ranged from absurd to endearing. Joel, on the other hand, became a constant presence, hovering protectively and ensuring Y/n didn’t overexert herself.

“Joel, I can carry this basket,” Y/n protested one afternoon as they walked back from the market.

“You shouldn’t have to,” he replied, taking it from her hands. “Ain’t no reason for you to strain yourself.”

Ellie, walking a few steps ahead, snickered. “He’s worse than a helicopter parent.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joel grumbled.

Y/n laughed, looping her arm through his. “It means you’re sweet. Overbearing, but sweet.”

The summer days stretched long and warm, with Joel often tending to the garden behind the cabin while Y/n rested inside. Ellie had taken to visiting more frequently, her excitement for the baby growing with each passing day.

One golden evening, Y/n reclined on the couch, her hand lazily resting on her belly. She blinked in surprise as a flutter of movement rippled beneath her palm. Her breath hitched.

“Joel,” she called softly.

He glanced up from his chair near the fireplace, immediately alert. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, her lips trembling into a smile. “Nothing’s wrong. He kicked.”

Joel was on his knees beside her in an instant, his hand reaching out hesitantly. “Can I…?”

She guided his hand to the spot where the baby stirred. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a gentle push greeted his palm. Joel’s mouth parted in awe, his voice low and reverent. “That’s… our kid.”

Ellie, hearing the commotion, came bounding into the room, her sketchbook clutched tightly. “What’s happening? Did the baby do something?”

Y/n motioned her over with a grin. “Come feel.”

Ellie hesitated, her eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and nervousness. Slowly, she placed her hand next to Joel’s. When the baby kicked again, she gasped. “Whoa. That’s so weird—and kinda cool!”

Joel chuckled, his fingers still resting on Y/n’s belly. “Ain’t weird. It’s life.”

Ellie tilted her head, her voice soft. “You think he can hear us?”

“Probably,” Y/n said. “You should try talking to him.”

Ellie crouched, her expression thoughtful as she spoke gently. “Hey, little dude. It’s me, Ellie. I’m gonna be your… big sister or something. Or maybe your really awesome aunt. Either way, you’re stuck with me.” She grinned. “I’ll teach you how to shoot slingshots, play guitar, and deal with Joel’s grouchy moods.”

“Hey,” Joel protested, though a smile tugged at his lips.

Ellie smirked. “It’s true.” Turning back to Y/n’s belly, she added, “Anyway, can’t wait to meet you, kid.”

When she looked up, Y/n’s eyes shimmered with emotion. “You’re gonna be an amazing big sister, Ellie.”

Ellie’s face softened, and for a moment, she looked shy. “Thanks, Mom.”

The word struck deep, filling the room with a quiet warmth. Joel pulled Ellie into a one-armed hug, his voice gruff. “Family, Ellie. That’s what we are.”

Ellie shrugged, though she leaned into the embrace, a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Another kick from the baby drew their attention, as if he were agreeing. The cabin filled with laughter, the kind that comes from a love that had weathered storms and found its way home.

Winter arrived harsh and unforgiving, the snow falling in thick, heavy blankets. The cabin was warm, the fire crackling as Ellie lounged on the couch, sketching in a notebook. Joel was in the kitchen, chopping wood for the stove when Y/n called out.

“Joel,” she said, her voice trembling.

He turned, his heart dropping when he saw her gripping the edge of the table. “It’s time,” she whispered.

The next hours were a blur. Joel carried Y/n to the clinic through the snow, Ellie trailing behind with blankets. Maria and the midwife were already prepared, ushering Y/n into a room warmed by a small heater.

Joel stayed by her side through it all, his hand clasping hers as she cried out in pain. “You’re doin’ so good, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Just a little more.”

The midwife’s voice broke through the chaos. “One more push, Y/n. You’ve got this.”

With a final, guttural cry, the room filled with the sharp wail of a newborn. Y/n collapsed back onto the bed, tears streaming down her face as the midwife placed the baby in her arms.

“It’s a boy,” Maria announced, smiling.

Joel’s breath hitched as he looked at the tiny, wriggling baby in Y/n’s arms. His hands shook as he reached out, brushing his fingertips over the baby’s soft cheek. “He’s… he’s perfect,” Joel whispered.

Ellie peeked into the room, her eyes wide with wonder. “Can I see him?”

“Come here,” Y/n said, her voice hoarse but full of joy.

Ellie stepped closer, her face softening as she looked at the baby. “He’s so small,” she said, her voice hushed. “What’s his name?”

Y/n looked at Joel, who nodded. “Samuel,” she said. “Sam for short.”

Ellie grinned. “Welcome to the apocalypse, Sam. You’re in good hands.”

Back at the cabin, the fire crackled softly as Sam lay swaddled in a blanket, asleep in Y/n’s arms. Joel sat beside her, his arm draped around her shoulders.

“I never thought I’d get this again,” he said quietly.

Y/n leaned into him, her heart full. “Neither did I. But we’re here. And he’s here.”

Joel pressed a kiss to her forehead, his voice breaking as he whispered, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving me hope again.”

As the snow fell gently outside, the family sat together, the warmth of love and new beginnings filling the room.

[demigodsanswer]

could we see the TUAP percababies first ballet recital?

Decided to make it The Nutcracker even though Nutcracker season is over

~

Lester's ballet school had been staging The Nutcracker every winter since before Percy joined. Back in his student days, he himself had been the Nutcracker once. And also Russian, and the toy soldier, and a rat or two, and the rat king. He may have only been around for two Nutcracker seasons, but even as a kid, he had a habit of doing everything.

So it was a great joy now to see his girls in the same Nutcracker he used to dance. This weekend, both girls had big solos.

It was Ella's first year. She was only four, but already a committed baby mouse. She was one of the mice who got killed during battle scene, and she had to play dead on stage. There was an audition process. Little as she was, she was a show stopper. She'd officially earned her first soloist role at four years old, beating out a handful of five and six year olds for the part.

Rory was playing Clara's little sister. She'd absolutely refused to show Mom and Dad any of her performance before the show. Not that they minded. Percy and Annabeth were committed to being parents and only parents, not coaches.

The curtain rose and there was his little girl, sweet, well-behaved, big sister Rory, absolutely selling the annoying little sister act. Her blonde hair was pulled back and put in pristine ringlets. Annabeth had been backstage helping all of the girls get their hair right (Percy had been declared "no help" and was sent to the front to help sell flowers for fundraising).

As party scene went on, he watched Rory time and time again steal the attention away from poor Clara. She never broke character, pranking her "sister," breaking the nutcracker, and running around teasing the party guests.

Annabeth was crying next to him, maybe the only person in ballet history to cry at Party Scene, but he couldn't blame her. If his girl didn't have him laughing so hard, he'd probably be crying too.

And then the party ended, and it was time for the mice.

Ella was the spitting image of Sally Jackson, even at only four years old, with the same brown hair and dark eyes his mother and sister had. But she was every ounce Annabeth Chase in attitude.

Percy had seen a fair number of home videos of baby ballerina Annabeth -- a little pudgy, itty bitty, and as serious as a heart attack, somehow possessing the balance and grace of a grown up dancer in a tiny child's body.

And even as a tiny mouse, Ella had that same serious quality. She hit all her marks, she knew where to be, and when the toy soldier "fired," she fell on her back, arms and legs up in the air, imitating mouse rigor mortis. Percy and Annabeth got odd looks from the people sitting around them as they cheered for the death of the little mouse.

The big mouse (one of the children's ballet teachers) came out then to drag Ella off. But another tiny mouse tripped over her, and plopped down next to where Ella was. his daughter, trained professional, did not flinch. And her teacher, thinking fast, simply grabbed both girls by the legs and dragged them into the wings.

In act two, Rory came on again as one of Mother Ginger's children. She had another solo moment as she did acrobatic skills across the stage. Percy wondered if he was that flexible and agile when he was seven and just didn't know it. But Rory was fearless, doing kart wheels, aerials, and back bends across the stage. Percy knew Lester had given her permission to just do whatever tricks she wanted.

A week ago, Percy and Annabeth had done a weekend of guest performances as Sugar Plum and Cavalier for the school, while their girls watched in the audience. Now it was nice to sit back and watch them. Whether they were here, in Virginia, or at New York City Ballet, Percy was always sure he could hear them cheering for Mom and Dad, so when the girls came out for their bows, Percy and Annabeth made sure they could hear Mom and Dad.

Annabeth was still crying when the house lights came on, and Percy made a note to get the tape from Lester.

"I hope they had fun," Annabeth said through her tears. Percy just pulled her in for a hug, before nudging her to get out of the way of people trying to leave.

Backstage, Ella spotted her mother first, and ran towards her. It was clear to Percy that in Ella's eyes, he was simply spare human. Mom was absolutely the favorite. But that was alright with him.

"Omph!" Percy said as a small force ran into him top speed. Rory was hugging him tight a big smile on her face. She was still in her pink and green Mother ginger costume with pink paper circles taped to her cheeks, her blonde hair in pigtails. Percy picked her up easily.

"Great job girls!" He said to both of them. "Did you have fun?"

Ella nodded. With her speech delay, she didn't say much, but she always understood.

"Lots of fun," Rory said.

"Great!" Annabeth said, setting her little mouse down. "That's most important. Now let's get changed and head home?"

They had a cake at home to celebrate the girls' debuts, and a pair of new ballerina Barbies.

Annabeth chased the girls to their street clothes and started helping them change as Percy stepped out, giving the girls who weren't his kids some privacy.

A minute later, they stepped out, bundled up against the cold. It was a short walk to the car -- an investment Percy had finally broken down and made after he got fed up lugging strollers up and down subway station stairs.

Rory chattered on about every detail of the experience, her smile wide. Percy held her hand for safety as they made their way down the block.

"Did you like it?" Rory finally asked.

"Of course! I loved it!" Percy said, picking her up under her arms and lifting her into the air before setting her back on her feet.

"Can I put my feet in the ice bucket when we get home?" Rory asked, turning her attention to her mom.

"You can try, but you might not like it," Annabeth said.

"I want to try!" Rory proclaimed.

Ella stopped walking. She turned to Annabeth and lifted her arms, and Annabeth complied.

"You were such a good dead mouse," Annabeth told Ella, who still hadn't said a word. That wasn't unusual for her. Annabeth always worried she'd feel left out of conversation, though, so she made a point to always include her.

"It was funny when the Savanna fell on you," Rory said.

"You handled it like a pro," Annabeth told her.

For the first time that day, Percy heard his daughters little voice loud and clear: "I was mad. Can we have some professionalism please?"

Percy was one-hundred percent sure he'd heard his wife say the same thing, more than once, in the same tone. Ella really did hear everything.

Percy and Annabeth laughed, and he could tell from Ella's smile that she knew they weren't laughing at her.

"Oh, girlie," Percy said through his laughter, "you are your mother's kid."

Ella looked at him, confused, before just leaning into Annabeth, as if to say yeah, duh.

~

The girls loved their cake and their dolls. Ella sat hers carefully on her nightstand, while Rory just held onto it and fell asleep with it still in her hands.

The apartment was finally quiet. Lucy, their cat, had fallen asleep under the Christmas tree. And Percy and Annabeth were splitting a third piece of cake.

Annabeth had her thinking face on. Percy gave her a second to see if she might start speaking, but she didn't. He moved a bit, got her attention, and still didn't get a word out of her.

"Want to tell me what you're thinking about?" Percy asked finally.

Annabeth was quiet for another moment before finally saying: "I was thinking, what if we had another one?"

"There's plenty of cake if you --"

"A baby," Annabeth said.

Percy stood to kiss her head and rub her shoulders. This wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. Sometimes it was his impulse, sometimes it was hers. It was always the perfect days like these that made them think they should test their luck. Percy knew that by the morning, the two girls would be running around like chickens with their heads cut off, disturbing the peace. And the impulse would go away again. Their two were perfect and enough.

"You're thirty-eight," Percy reminded her. "You're doing the best dancing of your career."

"That's a sneaky way of saying no," Annabeth pointed out.

"If in a week you are still determined to have a third baby, I will never say no. Just think it through," Percy said. He'd raise half a dozen of her kids if she wanted to have them. But having them meant taking a year off. And they didn't know how many they had left.

"My initial plan said no more after thirty-eight. There's still a little time," Annabeth said, taking another bite. "And anyway, it's not like I'm going to ask you to get up in there and take out my IUD yourself. There's nothing we could do tonight but play pretend."

"We could play pretend," Percy repeated, more suggestively.

Annabeth smirked and turned to face him. "Would that just be some fun dirty talk, or do you actually pretend? Make me do it missionary and stay flat on my back for fifteen minutes after?"

"The first one," Percy said, "definitely the first one."

~

In the morning, Percy woke up and found Ella and Rory playing together quietly with their new dolls and a few other toys.

"Ella lined these dolls up," Rory said, pointing the two parallel lines of toys, "and I thought it looked like they were on an airplane, so we're playing airplane."

Ella held up her new Barbie. "She's going to Richmond to be the Sugar Plum Fairy!"

"Wow!" Percy said, before slowly leaving them to their fun. Maybe a third baby would be great. The perfect addition. He snuck back into his bedroom, and saw Annabeth laying there on her phone, tears in her eyes.

"What is it?" Percy asked.

"Oh, nothing, Lester just sent me the video, and I was reliving it," she said with a small sob. Percy crawled back into bed and pulled her in close. "I think I went crazy last night. I love these girls, but they are more than enough work."

"So, no third baby?" Percy asked.

"I don't think so," Annabeth confirmed.

"Well, then, stay in here until they stop being so cute," Percy warned.

[lucasandlily]

In another life (What could have been, what it can still be), Part 1

A/N: Hiiii, I wanted to post the whole thing at once because I feel like it's better experienced that way cause of how they continue between each other, but I started to feel pain writing it so I'm just posting it in two parts 🙏

Rui's POV! Second-person pronoun "You" is used. Somewhat established relationship in some of them. 5 universes he could have lived + 1 he still can. Is this a Rui x reader disguised as a character study, or a character study disguised as an x reader? Your guess is as good as mine. Rui gets so so much affection in this. World’s most touch-starved man meets writer who just wants to give the guy so many headpats (3019 words)(and counting!)(This is the longest fic I've written guys) AO3 link here

The anomaly is fast, zipping around in the air, defying the very laws of gravity itself. Its eyes are bright in the dim lights of the laboratory, phasing through states of matter as Lyca jumps and slashes, his claws doing nothing as its body shifts into nothingness, then back again as Lyca lands, growling at it in frustration. 

Rui can empathise, leaping aside when it dives at him another time, leaving cracks in the tile floor where he was standing. It's obviously corporeal, and he has landed a couple lucky shots at it, though it doesn't really seem to care.

“Amazing. Amazing! This goes against everything we've learned! This, this could lead to an incredible breakthrough!” 

Rui hears the scientist exclaim somewhere behind him, who would've been the next victim had they not stepped in. 

“Um, ma’am-” he hears you start to say, but the shouting seems to have gotten the anomaly’s attention too, as it turns to face the both of you. 

“Hey, wait!” you shout, as the lady marches forward, dragging you along when you try to hold her back.

He watches the anomaly rise into the air again, glowing eyes aimed at you, now in front of the scientist as you try to push her back. 

Rui tries to rush to you, warn you, arm out to push you out of harm’s way, stopping short when he remembers how that malevolent spirit looked after he had drained the life force out of it. How you had startled away from his hand after. 

Then, the anomaly dives. 

And he's brought back to his first mission with you. How he had hesitated then. How he had failed to keep you safe. 

How he promised himself not to let it happen again. 

He does the only thing he can think of. 

The anomaly crashes into him just as he steps in its way. 

His back hits the ground hard, the anomaly crouched over him, its clawed feet pinning him by the shoulders. Its eyes seem to shine into his soul, like a searchlight into his mind, and it opens its gaping mouth to shriek in his face. 

It is loud, and then it is nothing. 

Rui would be worried he'd gone deaf if he wasn't staring into its mouth, like a sea of stars in the night sky that he just can't look away from, glittering specks of colour in an endless expanse. He sees stars, planets, universes, surrounded by the vastness of space, enveloping him like a blackhole he just can't escape.

And then, everything goes dark.

2.

The sun is warm in Jabberwock, shining down on Rui as he ruffles the soft wool of the anomalous sheep, a small smile on his face. 

Suddenly, he leaps back from the living creature, staring between its startled form and his ungloved hand in horror. It retreats away when Haru runs up to him.

“Rui! Wha happened? Everythin’ okay?” 

Rui looks up from patting himself down, still processing everything that just happened.

“Harurin! Where- where are my gloves?”

“Huh? Whaddya need gloves for?” 

Rui pauses. Looking into the distance, where the sheep are, he tries to pinpoint the one he just touched, eyes tracing the grass for piles of ash. 

“You okay buddy? You look a lil tired.” 

Rui turns back to his friend, worry written all over the redhead’s face, and he realises he does feel tired. Like all the energy he's accumulated over the years never existed at all. He's hasn't felt like this since-

“It's alright!” Haru interrupts his thoughts, “I can handle it for today, you go get some rest! Don't want you gettin’ heatstroke now!” 

Rui almost argues, but he sees Haru start to approach, to push him toward the dorm, and instinctively takes a step back. Haru backs off in surprise, but if he's offended, Rui doesn't wait to see.

“Yeah you're right. I think I'll go back.” he says, turning back to the Jabberwock house, throwing a half-hearted wave back.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets. It's not the coolest pose to be walking in, but his hands feel too exposed to care. 

He breathes in the smell of the grass and flowers on the walk back, trying to figure out how he got here in the first place. He tries to remember what happened after the darkness. The stars. The shrieking. Slamming onto the tiled floor. Stepping in to protect you. You. 

He does a full body jump when he feels hands on his shoulders. You quickly let go, startled by his reaction. 

“Woah! I didn't mean to scare you! You just seemed so lost, and you didn't hear me call out!” you quickly try to explain, in that flustered tone you use when you try to defend yourself. 

He chuckles reassuringly, relaxing a little at your appearance. He puts everything else aside for now. 

“It's okay, it’s okay. What did you need me for? You know I'd do anything you ask~” he lilts, throwing in a wink. 

You giggle, handing him a case file, “I've been assigned another mission with Jabberwock, so I need you to look at this!” 

He takes the file carefully, avoiding your hands, and gives you a look of confusion, “Wait, then why are you showing it to me?” 

You blink. “Because Haru’s not here?” 

“Shouldn't you be giving it to Towa, then?” 

“Well, you're the vice-captain, so I thought…” 

“You can't be showing the Obscuary vice-captain Jabberwock documents you know~” he tells you gently, shaking his head. Maybe you got confused somehow, he thinks. 

But your previously raised eyebrows have become knitted, and suddenly he's not so sure. 

“Lyca’s not vice-captain yet. Subaru and I barely even got him out of trouble with the general students,” you say, slowly. “And you're the Jabberwock vice.”

That can't be right. Your voice feels far away as he tries to piece everything together. Maybe he really is just tired, because suddenly everything isn't making sense, and he's just not used to it because he hasn't had this little energy since the curse and-

He feels a warmth on his forehead. It's comforting, even under the sun. Grounding him back to reality.

Your face is close to his as you feel his forehead with your bare hand for a fever, another on your own forehead to tell if it's warmer than usual. 

His blood runs cold. He can't look away as he waits one dreadful moment for your body to start disintegrating. 

No. Not again. Not you. Please. Especially not you. He can't lose you like this. 

Nothing happens, as he waits, continuing to plead in his mind, but he realises he doesn't feel the rush of your life force becoming his own. Not even the pull of it under where your bare hand makes contact on his skin. 

Your touch is just warm, the way he always imagined it would be, when he threw glances at you handling glasses when you weren't looking, or ruffling Lyca’s hair. What he doesn’t expect is the comfort it brings him. Not just from the relief of not seeing you wither away like so many others, but from how long it’s been since he’s had anything like this. 

“It doesn’t feel different…” you mumble, finally looking up, “Ah! But your face is so red!” Rui’s sure his face becomes redder when your hand slides down to his cheek instead. 

“It’s heatstroke!” he squeaks. It’s too much too fast, and he doesn’t quite know how to deal with it. He backs away quickly, pushing the file back into your arms and running off. “I gotta go. Haru’s in the fields if you need him!”

“Huh? O-okay!” he hears you call behind him, “Feel better soon! Remember to drink lots of water!”

“I will!” he returns, waving back.

“I didn’t even know ghouls could GET heatstroke.” You mumble to yourself, but he’s already long gone.

-

“Hey, did you hear? They’re gonna make the werewolf vice-captain!” Rui hears a girl not-quite-whisper to her friend. 

“Eh~ really~? Poor Subaru-kun’s had his hands so full because of him…” her friend doesn’t even pretend to keep her voice down as she fidgets with the lavender jewel on her lapel. 

“I guess it makes sense since Obscuary doesn’t have a vice yet…” she trails off, missing the grimace on Rui when he hurries past. 

-

Rui finds himself in the familiar woods of Obscuary, stumbling through the overgrown weeds. 

‘Someone really needs to clean this place up,’ he thinks, carefully stepping over the untrimmed plants. 

As he nears the mansion, he hears the familiar sound of Lyca yelling. 

“You gotta clean this up you moth-eaten casanova! It’s starting to smell bad!” 

“Ah, but I’m not used to the new machines of this era you see. I have no idea how that washer machine works.” 

Opening the door to the mansion, Rui finds random junk scattered across the floor. It’s less decorated than he left it, the walls stark of paintings and decor. It reminds him of the mansion when he first moved in, brimming with ill-gotten energy in a new environment. 

The memory urges him to the bar, or where it should be. As he opens the door, he is greeted with a room that is mostly bare, save for a table and a few chairs. He paces to where the bar would be, tracing the walls empty of shelves. He decides not to linger, following the noise up the stairs.

Lyca whips around and growls, ears up, when Rui enters Edward’s room. He’s right, it does smell. Clothes are scattered about everywhere, far worse than he’s ever seen. He doesn’t even want to imagine what the strange green sludge on what’s probably a table is. 

“There you are.” Edward says easily at what Rui suddenly realises might be an intrusion. 

“You know this guy?” Lyca asks the vampire, eyes darting to him for a second before going back to keeping his eyes on Rui. Even the fur on his tail is upright. 

“I’ve seen him around.” Edward replies, leering wide at the blonde. “The body you’re in isn’t going to be very happy to be here, you know.” 

Rui’s response dies on his tongue as Edward approaches him, Lyca still watching cautiously behind them. 

“Here, let me help you out.” Edward says. Rui doesn’t know what he does before he’s out like a light. 

3.

A sterile light shines over Rui, blinking in disorientation. He just barely manages to make out the surroundings of a lab in time to hear Yuri finish his explanation. 

“That’s right. I, Dr. Yuri Isami, have cured your curse!” 

“What?” is the only thing Rui manages to say. He blinks. What? 

“I- Weren’t you listening!?” Yuri shrieks, hand to his chest and lip curled. 

“I think the patient might be in shock.” Jiro says in his defense. Yuri opens his mouth, then huffs. 

Jiro tells him something else before they both leave the room, but Rui is too overwhelmed to notice. 

His curse is cured? Just like that? Everything is just happening so fast. He can hardly believe it. He tries to remember everything he wanted to do when his curse was cured, everything he thought about doing, before the disappointment made him stop. He wishes he made that list now. 

When was the last time he’d gone surfing? Felt the sun on his bare skin? Not worried about the potential danger?

When was the last time he’d felt grass on his fingertips? A dog licking his face? 

When was the last time he walked around in a crowded street? How many festivals had he missed? Why couldn’t he remember? 

When was the last time he reached out to someone? When was the last time it was okay? 

“Rui..?” you call out to him hesitantly, bringing him back into the lab with you, still sitting on the medical bed where the other two left him. “They were briefing me about your curse, cause you looked like you weren’t going to be listening for a while…” 

You approach slowly, hands tucked into your chest as usual as you come close. You stop in front of him, an expression he can’t read on your face. 

Cautiously, you raise your hands, like you’re presenting them before stopping near his face, in front of the apples of his cheeks. It takes everything in him not to flinch away. You look into his eyes, and he knows the question before you say it. He thinks you might know the answer too. 

“May I?” you ask.

“Yes.” he breathes, barely above a whisper. 

Slowly, your fingertips. An experimental touch. 

Then, your palms on his cheeks, cupping his face. He puts his hand over yours as he leans into it. 

Your thumb brushes his bottom eyelid, and he realises he might have started crying, though he doesn’t know when. You are there to wipe away all the wet hot tears with gentle warm hands. 

What strikes him now, of all the things happening in the moment, is the expression on your face as you gaze at him. Your eyes are soft despite the hard lights, but he feels the sneaking urge to rub his finger between your knitted brows. 

He’s pulled into you, your arms around him and your hands clutched on the back of his shirt. A hug, when’s the last time he had one of those? He wraps his arms around your waist, his head buried in the crook of your neck. He breathes in a shuddering breath. 

He smells the shampoo in your hair, stronger than all the times he caught a whiff of it when you walked past him just a little too close. He catches the scent of your fabric softener, which he’d only gotten once when you’d forgotten your jacket in the bar, and he’d been feeling particularly needy. 

It’s comforting, familiar despite having never held you this close before. It feels like coming home after a long day. Feels like being greeted by your loved ones at the door. Like a sense of normalcy he didn’t think he’d ever be allowed to have again in this life. 

He doesn’t remember Edward’s words to him just before he got here. 

-

The two of you walk back to Obscuary together, hand in ungloved hand as you lead Rui along the path. You explain that although the curse has been cured, he will still keep all the excess energy until he runs out, but he will gradually be able to start sleeping and the like. 

He squeezes your hand gently, like he has a dozen times already during the walk back from Mortkraken. You squeeze back, like you have a dozen times after, your thumb stroking the back of his hand. 

You don’t let go even as you’re opening the door to the mansion.

“I guess all those tests really were worth it in the end, huh?” you say, smiling back at him. 

He begins to question you but stops short when he’s greeted by the sight of his friends at the door, streamers lining the walls, creating a sharp contrast with the gothic furniture. Someone’s even managed to wrangle a party hat on Lyca.

“Is this…real?” is the only thing Rui manages.

He doesn’t notice the look Edward fixes on him as you giggle, “Well, we figured that after everything you went through, this is cause for celebration, no?” 

“You’ve been through a lot all this time.” Haku says, clapping a hand on his shoulder. If he notices Rui flinch at the contact he doesn’t mention it. 

Rui can’t help but laugh, each breath like a gasp of disbelief, almost startles when he feels his tears on his bare skin when he goes to wipe them, but it’s a genuine happiness he feels. The party feels almost like a haze in the midst of it. 

He makes himself a drink alongside Haru and Romeo’s. 

Lyca begrudgingly lets himself be convinced to stay still as his hair is ruffled. 

You stay latched onto his arm all the while. 

Rui steps out into the chill air of Obscuary for a breather. Despite the act he puts up, he doesn’t quite know what to do being in the centre of attention for so long. It’s a little dizzying, so much close contact after so long, but he feels a fullness in chest he doesn’t quite know how to describe. 

“Enjoying yourself?” he hears Edward’s voice behind him. He turns to see an enigmatic look on the vampire’s face. Rui doesn’t manage to respond before Edward continues, “No matter. Celebrations can always be held again.” 

He disappears back into the mansion to let Rui figure out what he meant by that. You follow him out shortly after, so he doesn’t. 

That night, you stay over in his room. Your body pressed against his, only your clothes separating the two of you. Before, it would’ve been too little, too risky. Now it feels like too much in the way. 

He toys with the hem of the T-shirt you borrowed from him before you gently guide him under it. 

“I didn’t think I’d get to do this, have this ever again…” his voice is barely above a whisper, his words only for you to hear. Your flesh is soft and pliant under his hand when he kneads your belly. You giggle when he pokes your side a little too hard, and he thinks he’d like to hear the sound over and over again. 

“You deserve it. You can have it as many times as you want.” you press your forehead against his in response. Your hand running down his chest leaves him feeling breathless. The motions of your hand slow until it rests on his back, your breath slowing and evening out. He doesn’t notice himself matching you as he watches the rise and fall of your stomach, each a reminder that you are alive. 

He holds you close, and closer still. He hopes this is real. He hopes he gets to stay here forever. 

When he sleeps, he dreams of stars.

I don’t really know what I’m doing, but that’s okay, because I just know that I wanted to feel, and I did. I hope this made you feel too (I hope you enjoyed it). 

Reblogs and Comments are appreciated! I love you (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

[neutron-stars-collision]

I think that part of the reason why it took Colin a while to forgive Pen and accept LW is that he knows she can see right through him. It’s been said multiple times that she sees him for who he is, despite the mask he tried to wear at the beginning of this season.

And Colin probably thought that he can see her too. That he knows his Pen through and through. So when that crumbled… yeah, it was a harsh wake up call.

He must’ve felt uneven with her, along with the constant worry that he’s not enough for her, that he’s not worthy. The realisation that while she knows him, he doesn’t know her must’ve been a real kick in the gut.