#i lost some people really close to me like two days before and was recovering from a really physically taxing medical exam

[transboyswitchytales]

'Get Lost in My Eyes'

“I used to think I was afraid of being lost, but then I realized I was afraid of who might find me.” ― Nenia Campbell, Raise the Blood

Request:

'Hi. I have a request

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Literally after recover her body, Agatha goes for a walk because she misses… well, her body so she takes advantage of the fact that Billy goes out with her boyfriend to take a walk around Eastview.

On her way out, Agatha's gaze connects with that of Reader who was passing by. Normally, Agatha didn't care but if Agatha didn't believe in love at first sight, she now believes it because after looking at you she couldn't look away and had to interact with Reader. Agatha's body moved only in the direction of Reader

Or

Agatha who has had no luck in love, only toxicity, falls in love at first sight for the first time in her long life as a witch

Thank you so much'

Soulmate Au / Love at First Sight Au / Fluff and Angst / Bit of gore / Witch power draining / Running from your past / Nicky mourning

Part 1

My Masterlist

Agatha was having a weird time with… walking. 

She’d just gotten a handle on floating, being a ghost that is. 

Being in a body after being a ghost was a strange feeling, to say the least. 

Agatha was standing in Eastview at a park. Laughter from children playing and people having a gay old time with their stupid mortal lives. It was all so….normal?

Agatha had walked here after Billy had told her he was going on a date. The two of them really needed some space and boundaries. Lots of boundaries needed to happen. 

 Agatha was ashamed to say she wasn’t sure what to do with herself for the first time in centuries.

There was no power to fight for, she had power again. No son to try and steal time for, kill for. No Rio to fear, fuck, of fight. The three f’s that went with her ex.

 Which was best, while she’s always loved Rio. She could never be with Rio ever again. 

So Rio stood in a park. Feeling more lost than ever before. 

 It was the middle of spring, a rather hot day for the time of year. 

The ancient witch grew irritated as a yellow toy flew through the air.

 There was some dumb ass twink throwing a frisby for an ugly little dog.

Agatha was wearing her boots. Which was nice since they were familiar, old runes carved in the seams. Her clothes were the same as well… and yet her body just felt different. Everything felt different.  

Agatha had not told Billy about her future plans. Because she wasn’t sure what they really were yet. Yet.

But only three days being back in one’s body was overwhelming; a purpose would come to her, right?

Agatha had taken a turn on a dirt path to walk. Not wanting to be around people. Yuck even the word was gross.  

So when she felt magic being cast, her body initially went into a state of panic. Call it PTSD from the road or perhaps the lingering sting of the hex, Scarlet Witch was truly an experience. 

But when Agatha saw it was…purple? Like her purple? That was truly the strange part. Agatha walked off the path following the buzz of magic until she found a gorgeous river and a rather stunning…witch.

Not just any witch, an extremely powerful, breathtaking witch. Agatha watched the way your hair framed your face the sunlight hitting it and all the colors that reflected on your strands, the cute little scar you had. 

Your eyes were closed as you were casting a spell. It was complicated Agatha knew it was, she couldn’t explain why she did. But you were working hard.

But devine goddess, Agatha wanted you to open your eyes to see the color of your irises. She longed to know more about you. 

But that scared her more than words could say. 

For fuck sake, she needed you to keep your eyes closed. This moment lasts longer. You were oblivious to Agatha Harkness witch killer, just ten feet away. Agatha, not for the first time, wished her name didn’t hold so much….blood?

But Agatha’s heart beat sped up. She felt more in her body than she’d been since returning to her solid form.

The magic smelled of lilies of the valley, burnt firewood, and pine. And something so distinctly Nicky that it made Agatha confused. 

Agatha held her breath as your hair fell into your face, tickling your nose. Oh, to be close to you. Agatha could think of nothing more decadent than to move the strand with her fingers behind your ear. 

You sat crisscrossed, barefoot, rings on your fingers as they worked in the air, weaving the magic. 

There was a little RV behind her, it was new in the 80’s maybe. Now it was retro and well-loved. Stickers on the windows. Agatha made out prayer flags in the back window and a tapestry inside that had a huge lavender pentacle. The soft noise of a windchime sounded in the air, it twinkled over the rushing water hitting the rocks.   

Agatha’s eyes fell back to you, like a magnet. An invisible string, the pull is unreliable. Yet it didn’t hurt. Agatha had been so used to hurting Rio and her mother. Loving Nicky as he grew sick. 

Her bones felt like they wanted to move closer, but she kept her distance, afraid to break your concentration. Agatha didn’t know how you’d take a person staring so deeply. 

But fate stepped in, as she often did.

Agatha would swear years later that Nicky was behind it all, that he’d pushed you two together. 

But the creature that did the work today, she cursed in this moment, was a certain rabbit, who jumped out of the RV and hopped towards Agatha.

Agatha’s familiar, falling onto the rocks to pick the rabbit up. She’d been worried when Billy couldn’t find him. Her heart ached for the fuzzy guy. 

“Senior Scratchy?” A gorgeous voice asked. 

Agatha eyes snapped up after scooping up her familiar to see you walking closer. Agatha held her breath. Oh, Lilith’s breath, your eyes were her new favorite color. 

“He doesn’t usually like people.” You say, and Agatha is too stunned to speak. 

Agatha had never heard a smoother, sweeter voice. She decided then and there that she’d listen to you read the warnings on drinking bleach as long as she could hear you speak.

You stared at Agatha, and she didn’t make a noise, not even of acknowledgement. Agatha was thankful you spoke again so it wasn’t too awkward. She was trying to figure out what in the world you said when you met an angel?

“You two must be kindred spirits.” You smile at Agatha, who is not sure where her own voice has gone. Has never experienced a smile like that. Her knees go momentarily weak. 

“Are you from around here?” You continue the one-sided conversation, and Agatha shakes her head, and you look more confused. Stepping closer, Agatha doesn’t release the rabbit, and you don’t break them up. 

Agatha can smell you now, your perfume or is it just you? She tries not to sniff you like an animal. 

Your head falls to the side and Agatha is trying her best to breathe. But how can you be cute and sexy and powerful and and and what the hell? Agatha tries so hard to snap to attention. 

“Are you..I hope this doesn’t offend you. Are you ok? I mean, you look a little… lost?” You tell Agatha, who has never heard truer words. 

Though now that she looks at you, she’s not sure she is lost anymore.

“You don’t talk much huh? Let’s start here,” you held out your hand, and the witches blue eyes dropped down to study it. She recognized the rings, one had tigers eye, another celtic runes, a few moons, but one of them was an old Salem sign. One Agatha hadn’t seen in lifetime. 

Licking her lips, she held the bunny in one arm and couldn’t help herself, she wanted to touch your skin. Just once, just to say she’d touched something heavenly. 

Your hands met, and both of you looked down at the electric feeling. Both experiencing hair raising on your arms. Agatha was quick to retract her hand. 

“Agnes.” She lied. You blinked once, twice, and then the bunny made a little noise. And Harkness swore then and there she’d never give her familiar another treat as long as he lived. 

You looked down and listened to Agatha’s familiar. Smiling softly at the creature. 

“What is that senior scratchy? Huh…Um this boy says your name is..Agatha?” You correct her. And the older witch gulps. But you don’t take offense to her lie. 

“People here called me Agnes.” Agatha tries at an attempt to clarify. 

The moment stays between the two of you. 

Agatha doesn’t know what to do. She just knows that she can’t leave the spot that. She just wants to be in whatever room you are in for as long as she can.  

Agatha is relieved when you keep talking to her.

“Well, I personally think Agatha suits you much better. There was a famous witch who was called that. Seriously, misunderstood, amazing witch…Well, anyway, um, I like Agatha, but I’ll call you whatever you want. Do you have a preference?” You ask her so sweetly that the witch in her new body is floored. 

“Agatha, I prefer Agatha actually.” She says, and you grin at her again. And Agatha doesn’t know why or how you are looking at her like that, but she’ll do whatever she can to see you do it again. 

“Well, Agatha Senior Scratchy is an amazing judge of character. So a friend of his is a friend of mine. I don’t know if you have plans..but I was about to make dinner. And if you are lost, which something tells me you might be. Do you wanna, I don’t know have dinner with me?”

Agatha took a breath, and she tried to count to five before immediately saying yes and seeming entirely too eager. But you panicked by four and Agatha didn’t like that. 

“You don’t have to-”

“No, no I would like that.” Agatha said, and you smiled at her relieved. Agatha smiled back and she wasn’t sure the last time she gave someone a genuine grin…but it made her face hurt. 

You cooked for Agatha that night. And the conversation flowed so easily. Easier than Agatha had ever experienced. It was strange how at ease you put her, and yet so in her body she felt with you. 

Agatha’s magic sparkled under her skin, itching to play with yours. Agatha asked questions about your life. Senior Scratchy nibbled on lettuce as the two of you ate and laughed at each other's stories. 

Watching the sunset together, not knowing it would be the first of many sunsets together. That was the funny thing about fate. 

Agatha put her hands over the small campfire you’d built. The spring nights were chilly, and the two witches didn’t seem to mind. 

The rabbit jumped onto Agatha’s lap, and you were looking up at the night sky. A small lull in the conversation that hadn’t happened yet. 

A comfortable silence nonetheless, something that only comes with two souls knowing each other. 

Agatha stared at you as you gazed into the sky. 

Both of you are holding mugs of tea that you’d made earlier. Agatha had been un-surprised when it had been her favorite flavor. It seemed she was in an alternate dimension, perhaps she hadn’t gotten her body back. Maybe this was a cruel trick of fate. Rio must have made a deal with someone to torment her. 

But as she sipped the tea and heard the crickets in the night, she couldn’t be sure it wasn’t all really happening. 

“Agatha?” You broke her thoughts now, but didn’t look at her, you were making love to the moon with your eyes.  

“Yes?”

Agatha had never seen anyone pay tribute to the moon the way you were in this moment. It was like you were getting strength from her. And she quickly realized why. 

“I know you don’t want to tell me everything, you are sorta keeping a lot to yourself… I mean you are telling me things about you…but not the stuff you are afraid to… I mean, I guess, I know you're a witch, of course. I know you aren’t as old as you look. I don’t need to know it all right now. That’s really ok. I like talking to you a lot. I feel safe with you, and that hasn’t happened in a long time. I think you are funny and witty. Even though you think you are being sarcastic and perhaps a realist. I think it’s all a facade, and you are a big mush. Senior Scratchy doesn’t lie. All of that is..well. I guess I wanted to know, do you want to get lost with me..for a while?” You offered, and at the end, you looked at Agatha. 

The wind moved her dark hair lightly. Like it was pushing her towards you. Urging her to jump two feet in love.

“You don’t even know me,” Agatha answered like it was silly of you. 

“You are a covenless witch. I’m not asking to be your coven. I don’t need a teacher or even a protector. It’s not why I’m asking.” You say, and Agatha feels like a thing too good to be true, always is. 

“So what do you want?”

“Nothing from you.” You say simply, and Agatha isn’t sure she’s ever heard anything so romantic in her whole life. 

“You don’t want anything.” She repeats. 

“No, I’m not asking for your life story. Or trying to win something or steal something. I think I would just like your company. But if that isn’t a fair trade for my own, I understand that, too.” The last part is said sadly. 

Agatha gazes at you and then turns to look at your RV. 

“Will you be leaving soon?” She is angry at how needy she sounds. But you look up at the moon. 

“Not until she tells me to. But my invitation isn’t while I’m in the area. I’m asking if you want to come with me.” You tell the witch seriously. 

“What if I tell you something about myself..and you change your mind?” Agatha tries. 

“What if you change your mind?” You counter now and Agatha bristles, like that was ridiculous. 

“It isn’t a contract. If you get bored of my stories, or are tired of how I make tea. Or more realistically, the vagabond living thing is not your thing…Well then, we’ll talk then. But for now, do you want to get lost for a while?” You offer again, and Agatha looks conflicted.

“You don’t have to answer now, but I do ask you to answer for yourself, not for what you think I want to hear. I suppose whatever we do in this long life, we get a lot of chances. And we also get a lot of firsts. So perhaps this will be the first time you make a decision for just you.” You say, and then look back at the moon. 

Agatha couldn’t believe it. 

That had been two years ago. 

And now she was standing in a new state once again. You were walking over to Agatha, and when you met up with her, you kissed her. Agatha loved this, she loved you. But she hadn’t told you yet. 

It was an accident, a freak accident, that she was constantly amazed by you. 

You’d just hiked to the nearest town to drop off a letter Agatha had written for Billy. Now you were back, and Agatha was relieved. She’d always been nervous when the two of you parted. 

So now that you were back, she could breathe again. Sorta like how she’d learned how to breathe again the second she saw you in the middle of a creek in spring. 

“Aggie?”

“Hmm, baby?” Agatha realized she’d been zoning out again, and you were bringing her back softly into the embrace. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You gently offered, and Agatha loved that you never pushed her about her demons. You supported her through the nightmares, held her hand on Nicky's birthday when Agatha demanded on picking wildflowers. And never got mad at Agatha when she got snarky. It was like you knew it was an act. That Agatha was scared and trying to start a fight. 

You two were yin and yang. 

You didn’t rise to take the bait. Only gave Aggie space and time to figure out what she needed.

Agatha was standing in the forest deep in thought, and your arms stayed around her waist.

Agatha played with the ends of your hair and decided what to say.

“You’ve never asked me my last name.” She decides. 

“No, I didn’t.” You agree and leave it at that. Agatha understands without asking, you don’t need to know. You aren’t worried about what she’d done, only if she chose to be with you today. 

Today was a powerful thing. 

You both traveled everywhere in that stupid RV. 

Until it broke down in the south, and you were flustered. More flustered than Agatha had seen you in a while. Smoke pillowing out of the hood. As you coughed away.

“My love, it’s all gonna be ok. We’ll just-” Agatha tried to soothe you, and you didn’t let her. 

“It’s the engine block, we are so fucked. Oh fuck oh fuck-”

“Baby-” Agatha tried putting her hands on your arms, but you were shaking and she was getting worried. She looked at you, concerned, and you didn’t need to speak, a new thing between the two of you. 

“Aggie, this isn’t a good place to break down. I was..I was hunted here a long time ago. And I don’t want-fuck.” You tried, and Agatha pulled your body into hers and hugged you tight. 

“I’m not leaving you here, sweetheart. We can walk to the nearest town and get a tow. Or steal a new RV. Whatever we do, no one is going to hurt you. You trust me?” Aggie pulled back so that her eyes bore into yours, and you nodded.

It was painfully hot as you both walked in the sun. Agatha complained in indecent ways to try and make you laugh. She even let you hold Senior Scratchy so that you didn’t get too anxious. 

When you found a diner, you both walked like you’d walked the entire Sahara. Barging in the locals eyed you strangely. 

“No pets.” The waitress who reeked of BO told you. 

“Aggie..” You whispered, but she took her familiar out of your hands. Whispering to the bunny to stay close but out of sight. Opening the door, she let the rabbit run off. 

“It’ll be fine, Angel. We’ll get some food, and then find a mechanic.” Agatha told you, but the hair on the back of her neck was standing up. This was weird, she agreed. 

The waitress pointed to the far booth, and Agatha pushed your lower back and sat you with your back to the door. And she sat opposite so that neither of you had a blind spot. 

“I’m not feeling good about this.” You leaned across the sticky table to say to her. 

It didn’t take long for trouble to find your booth, it seemed. Two hags walked up to your table and stopped. 

“Can we help you?” You ask and Agatha finds it interesting how even in a horrible place like this you can still come across friendly if not uneasy. But they don’t respond in any kindness. 

“You with her.” The hag on the left asks you. 

“Yes, I am.” You answer, and Agatha tries not to feel pride at how quick you are. Neither of you had ever put a label on it.

 But it was love.   

“Fucking witch killer. Harkness, you ain’t got no business in these parts.” The hag on the right says, and Agatha’s body grows tense. She doesn’t look at the old witches, she turns to look at you. Agatha grows nauseous, this was the end of her great love story, it seemed. In a hillbillly diner in the middle of nowhere. She was about to lose the best love she’s ever felt. 

But you don’t bat an eyelash, and Agatha is further confused. 

“We don’t want trouble. We’re just hungry. We’ll eat, pay, and then leave. You’ll never see us again.” You offer, and Agatha tries not to take hope in the fact that you haven’t run away, and used the term ‘we.’ 

“You killed my sister’s whole coven.” The old crone on the left said. Then she raised her hand to cast a bit of yellow from her fingers. But you were faster and you took the water cup, throwing it in the witch on the left to distract her. Before thundering your purple at the dirty casting witch. She flew backwards and her hand turned grey power leaving her body. 

The witch on the left was screaming as you were quick to cast the water to burn like acid. The two cried out, and a younger witch was sprinting towards the booth. You didn’t see the coven member, your back as to the door. 

Agatha was fast, though; her own purple splintered like a vine out and bound the younger witchling. Sort of like an anacado. Squeezing her until she erupted, and blood went everywhere.

“We are not going to eat here.” You say lamely as you both pop up from the booth and head towards the door. 

Agatha has a hand on your back, and it grounds you both. You are about to open the door when Agatha’s head whips around, hearing someone coming in from the back. 

The witch came forward and cast her powers to kill Agatha. It hit her hard, and you screamed out. 

The rays of magic that were hitting Agatha were pink..Until she sighed, her head falling back, and then the purple erupted like mist. Just as quickly as it started, it ended. 

Agatha did what she did best, draining the witch of her powers, and the corpse fell shriveled. Just like Alice and Agatha’s horrid mother. Like she’d done to thousands of witches over the years. 

But this, time, Agatha felt real fear. Turning quickly to look at you, what she hadn’t expected was for you to grab her hand. 

“I got you baby. Come on we gotta find our boy and run before more come, ok?” You say, and you aren’t scared of Agatha. 

But the two of you sprint out of the diner, out of the town, and out into the middle of nowhere. 

Stopping when neither of you can run anymore. You are almost having an asthma attack, and Agatha can’t wait for you both to catch your breath she grabs you and her hands trail over your arms and torso. 

“I’m fine, Agatha.” You tell he,r and she grabs your face. 

“How long did you know?”

“What?” You say confused.

“Did you know the first time we met? Answer me!” Agatha shouts at you, and you flinch. She wasn’t your lover in this moment. 

“Agatha, I didn’t know who you were. I’d heard stories about Agatha Harkness, but I didn’t know it was you. I was born in Salem, of course, there were stories. I didn’t betray you. I didn’t know it was you!” You repeat, and Agatha releases you and she shakes her head, stepping back. 

“Tell me the truth.”

“When you found me in the middle of the woods I was casting a spell.” You say and Agatha nods once for you to continue. 

“I remember.”

“But you never asked what I was casting. Isn’t that weird? We’ve talked about everything but our past and what I cast that day. You never once asked!” You shout back, and Agatha feels her body grow cold. You’d never yelled at Agatha. 

This argument feels long overdue. 

“What did you do?” 

“I cast a spell, I asked for my soulmate. I didn’t actually believe it was real, Agatha! I thought I was going to find another animal a-a familiar, or it wouldn’t work at all! I cast a spell asking for her to come to me. I begged for you. I asked the moon for you. I wanted you so bad. I didn’t know who you were, though. And I didn’t manipulate you with magic, I know that’s what you are thinking!” You spat throwing your hands in the air like it was humiliating. 

“Soulmates, that is the biggest load of shit I’ve ever heard!” Agatha yells at you and she see’s the hurt flood into you. 

“I was lost, and you were lost. And then we weren’t. How do you expain it? How do you explain that both our magic is purple! The same smell and shade! How do you explain that your familiar became mine? And you- in that diner, you syphoned their magic! Right? I used to do that! You know what they called me growing up in Salem? Harkness’s Harlot! Because I killed witches the same way you did! Only I didn’t know and I was..fuck ya know what? Fuck you Agatha Harkness! You don’t want to believe in soulmates, to believe in me? So be it! Forget me then! Go back to your life on the run! We may have been vagabonds traveling, but we weren’t lost! We were home to each other!” You scream into the wood, and Agatha just glares at you. She’s so pissed. “Have a nice life, soulmate.” You say and walk in the opposite direction. 

Agatha doesn’t follow you. 

Agatha stands there unable to move. 

The day quickly becomes night. 

Agatha still doesn’t move an inch. 

Mosquitoes are sitting on her left hand, and she can’t swat at it. 

Did she just lose you? 

To be continued...

[somelazyassartist]

oh my god I've been so stressed out lately I missed Hallows' birthday I am so sorry babygirl

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader

I took some inspiration from @huneybeen who wrote this first so please please dont hate me but I've been thinking about them for the past 3 days and I needed to word vomit.

...K thanks bye.

Divider Credit: @sister-lucifer

☁ The dynamic of this alone is something I'd like to touch on especially because it's so fun to me.

☁ I imagine if anything the reader would be a common toon, so that changed things. You have two mains, Astro and Sprout, and two commons, yourself and Cosmo.

☁ You and Cosmo probably meet first because of that. You get close because of similar interests and stay close during runs.

☁ To add an extra layer to this, imagine Distactor! Reader too? Licking my fingers at this.

☁ Cosmo thought he had just gotten a new friend! He loves giving them treats and using them as a taste tester and even taking naps together wherever possible! It's great!

☁ Until...it's not? Why are you taking off? Why do the trinkets hooked onto your belt look suspiciously like the ones Goob and Tisha are known to use? Why are you actively getting the Twisteds attention?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

☁ The first time he sees you distract is a little stressful for poor Cosmo. The second you're back in the elevator and it clinks shut, he is whirling on you and demanding an explanation.

☁ He's so exasperated that he's left speechless when you simply smile up at him, still high off adrenaline, while talking a mile a minute about how much fun that was.

☁....Are you insane?

☁ That being said, after the fact, Cosmo is literally your personal healer. He is constantly fighting Toodles the other toons for heals, not for himself, not really, but so he's never left with nothing to give you.

☁ That's probably when he realizes he has an initial crush on you. He's mid-way through using a med-kit on you, on a floor high enough he can see the running starting to effect you. You're sluggish and fatigued and can't chug pop fast enough. It makes his chest ache at the sight before he's swallowing his nerves and wrapping his arms around you.

☁ "You're doing great. Thank you for the work you do."

☁ Feeling you melt against him made every grueling floor worth it in that moment. The draining yank of his own health leaving him to go to you through every new treat was far beyond repaid. He would do it a million times over for you if only for a smidge chance at this moment again.

☁ The run was finished soon after that, and you were quick to express your thanks towards him after that. Safe to say, if you thought he was clingy before, that was nothing. It's like he literally took an invisible chain and connected it between you two and you just haven't found it yet.

☁ He's always there with a smile and a treat and a snuggle if time and twisteds permit.

☁ Now, some world building for ya. I imagine that the OG Twisteds of the mains you see, are the real mains until that research is completed. Then Dandy lets you purchase an...un-twist antidote or something and that's when they come back. It's fun to me >:(.

☁ Following this, most people are gonna assume Sprout comes first.

☁ WRONG. I got Astro first so guess whose coming back. Astro.

☁ When Astro comes back, he's evidently shaken by the whole ordeal. The mains probably didn't know the commons overly well unless they were explicitly paired together. Like Sprout and Cosmo in that one animation, or Glisten and Vee, etc. Astro isn't seen with any commons, as far as I know, so he's probably a little lost and feels like an outsider.

☁ While he's recovering he's banned from any runs. Point blank period. However, that means he's alone while the commons are all out scavenging for research.

☁ Guess who comes in? Guess :)

☁ It's you!

☁ Unlike Cosmo, there are other distracting toons. Tisha and Goob both are more than happy to take some shifts while you stay back to recover yourself. Unfortunately, there's only one Cosmo, so he's left going on the runs as a healer and leaving you behind. You always see him off though, giving him pecks on the cheek before he's stepping into the elevator.

☁ You take the time to wander through Gardenview, eyeing each room as you pass before blinking at the infirmary. The new toon was in there.

☁ Astro half expected you to just continue on, regardless of if he was there or not. He was fine on his own, even if it wasn't his favorite. It reminded him too much of when he was... Of before.

☁ But you poked the top of your head in the doorway, your eyes being the only part of you visible. He blinked at the action, making eye contact. Your head tilted at the action and his own mirrored it. It made you giggle as you disappeared back around the door.

☁ Despite it, Astro found himself smiling at the action. what an odd toon you were.

☁ He never heard your footsteps disappear however, stunning himself when you popped your eyes back in, gleaming with mischief. The rest of you stepped in right after, pressing a finger to your lips with a humorous little wink. "Wanna sneak into the kitchen and steal some cookies?"

☁ Needless to say, he found himself in the kitchen, sitting beside you with a cookie jar shaped like a suspicious, rainbow petal'd plant sat between you munching on cookies that looked a little too familiar for comfort.

☁ You filled the silence whenever something popped into your brain, talking about things you felt he should know for whatever reason. He now knew all about Rodger and Glisten and Teagan's tension, which he wouldn't have guessed, and all about Gigi's...problem with misplaced objects. He even knew about your own rumors that laid hushed in the walls, spoken like they were about someone else.

☁ "Yeah! People keep saying Cosmo and I are a thing but he's never asked so until then, that's a no."

☁ He hummed at the time, even if some part of him felt a bit relieved at the information.

☁ By the time he was cleared to go on runs, you were bouncing up and down by his side excitedly, trinkets clinking from where you had hooked them onto your waist, with Cosmo excitedly grinning behind you.

☁ He liked seeing you two like that.

☁ Now. Sprout. Mr. Seedly.

☁ He's last to join. Astro helps with this tremendously. When you're downed from a surprise Shrimpo attack, clutching your arm as Ichor pooled over, Cosmo is quick to try and jump in to help, only for a twisted clone of himself to turn and lock in onto him.

☁ As much as I love to proclaim "Distractor! Cosmo!" he's not actually a distractor. So, he has to run to lose the twisteds quickly before getting bit himself. This is where Astro comes in. Not only does he quickly re-energize both you and Cosmo, he is able to give you a momentary heal, letting you run off, air horn blazing, while hiding in the back to turn his attention to Cosmo.

☁ Whatever pieces you or Cosmo may lose, Astro picks up. Yet, not all of them seem to click into place just yet.

☁ When the elevator stills and you all hear the telltale steps, Astro is quick to grab your shoulders and spit all sorts of warnings. "Watch the tentacles. You'll know where they're going to appear. Don't try to test them. It's not worth it." "He's slow but don't take that for advantage. He will find a way to keep up." "Ignore every other twisted. We can handle them."

☁ Blinking, he watched you slowly nod before blinking and giving a much more firm acknowledgement. "Understood."

☁ When the elevators opened, Astro watched as you quickly got Sprout's attention, darting around a budding pile of ichor before sharply turning the other way. The reason why quickly became apparent when a twisted Teagan turned the corner, which Goob quickly took away.

☁ Nodding to himself, Astro found himself turning to face Cosmo, who looked terrified at the what just happened. Did he look that way when Astro was...That way with him? He hoped not.

☁ Frowning, he gripped his blanket tighter before letting out a breath, extending one of his hands through the opening towards Cosmo. The other looked at it with wide eyes before his eyes upturned to look at Astro's. "I'll stay with you the entire time."

☁ They had to follow you after all.

☁ They stayed a good distance away from where you and Goob were distracting (which was rather entertaining to watch actually), grabbing capsules wherever possible and tossing healing treats to you both as you passed.

☁ It was a rather seamless process actually up until the elevator timer began, sending the other toons of the squad running. Cosmo, who had been waiting for Astro to finish the last machine, seemed to halt before Astro was urging him forward, steeling himself to stay behind. "They'll run out of stamina before getting to the elevator. We'll be fine!"

☁ Albeit hesitantly, Cosmo did turn and run, finding safety next to Rodger while Astro stayed a ways away outside. Goob was quick to return, free of twisteds, but looking no less stressed. "They were far! Sprout cut off their exit!" Goob quickly explained, twiddling his fingers in front of him.

☁ Astro nodded before instructing him to stand in the elevator as well just in case.

☁ As the seconds ticked down, Astro was seconds away from stepping just far enough to remain out of Goob's range just in case when you came skidding around a corner. He could tell you were running on low as you kept looking back, narrowly avoiding Sprout's clawed grasp. Waiting until you were close enough, he let his power thrum along the ground, watching as you immediately perked up.

☁ Goob took this as a signal, or maybe you gave him one, as you quickly moved to push Astro forward, right into the awaiting arms as you continued towards the elevator. Just as the elevator began to close, you dove, making it just under the steel metal as it slammed shut behind you.

☁ You were panting as you laid on the ground, the entire elevator silent save for your heavy breaths and the sound of Dandy preparing for his arrival.

☁ Cosmo was quick to jump onto you, hurling threats of no more heals if you ever tried anything like that ever again. You took it with grace, gently resting a hand on his head as he cried into your shoulder. Your eyes angled back, catching his and extending your free hand. "You can't fool me. I know that scared you too."

☁ If Astro moved forward to take your hand, sitting close enough to you his knees brushed your shoulders.

☁ You had gotten what you needed though, evident with the glower Dandy shot at you, hidden behind a plastic smile.

☁ Getting Sprout back was harder than getting Astro back, admittedly. You had explained that when getting a main back, you kept most of the toons behind simply for everyone's sake. Distractors, Cosmo and fast extractors was where you drew the line.

☁ Which Astro understood. But didn't like. However, that being said, his power made him a valuable asset, which he used to argue his point. When you acquiesced, he nearly cheered, triumphantly trekking into the elevator with Cosmo by his side.

☁ To say this was like the previous runs, but on some sort of crack would be an understatement. It was fast. It was grueling. It was a thing of constant motion with machines constantly being done and the elevator a repeating pattern of opening and closing.

☁ There were no jokes like usual. There was no chatting. There was a new tension among the people in the elevator, simply waiting for the countdown before starting it all over again.

☁ Cosmo ensured he stuck beside Astro the entire time, remaining a rock the entire time while you were busy. They kept close enough they could rush to you should the need arise, and have a few times, but stayed within hands reach of each other.

☁ By the time they reached floor 24, with all of you tired and injured to some extent, the sound of his steps were both a welcome reprieve and a dreaded expectation.

☁ You were the one trusted with the serum, clutching it tightly as you glared at the elevator before you were turning to look at Cosmo and Astro over your shoulder. "Stay safe, please. Don't wait for me."

☁ It was a harrowing ask, but not one they could linger on as the elevator opened and you took off.

☁ But then the lights went out.

☁ And then they heard Sprout let out a shrill roar signaling he spotted you.

☁ Then they heard the snarling of Pebble signaling he too also spotted you.

☁ That was all they needed before the group of them dispersed, eager to complete the machines as quick as possible before you paid the price for their lack of action.

☁ One by one each ticked off before the elevator was reopening and they all rushed back to the elevator. Goob, Cosmo and Astro stood right up at the lip of the elevator, eyes darting for you. You appeared much quicker, both Pebble and Sprout on your heels as you did.

☁ You dropped a quick smoke bomb, loosing both of their attentions as you quickly rounded around a counter. Pebble let out a snarl as he ran off in the other direction. He didn't get far before hearing you move and it was like a movie.

☁ You moved, launching at Sprout with the Serum poised and ready while Pebble snarled, rushing to catch you. You managed to catch Sprout, digging the spout of the needle into his neck before being chucked off, making you scramble as you quickly darted back around the counter. Astro let his power thrum as Goob snapped his arms out, Cosmo catching you as you ran into the elevator while Goob's arms snapped back. The elevator snapped shut as Glisten moved to end the run and send the elevator back up, both you and Cosmo moving to where Goob cradled an ichor riddle body.

☁ You quickly let Cosmo do what he needed too, diverging to wrap your arms around Astro, who's eyes were locked onto Sprout.

☁ He spent the night with you and Cosmo, both of which he dragged out of your rooms to sleep in his that night.

☁ Sprout's recovery is quicker than Astro's, as he's a toon made for healing. He's up and bitching before any of you can stop him.

☁ Cosmo is his first stop, duh, they're canonically very close, with Astro a close second as he would know the other main. But you? Sprout's got no idea who you are.

☁ So he's a little stand-offish. He sees you interacting with Cosmo and sees you with Astro, and both seem to thoroughly enjoy your company, but he also saw you when he was a twisted.

☁ You were a dumbass if he had anything to say about it.

☁ You'd see someone way down a hallway and risk running into a wall to avoid them getting maybe even possibly spotted. He'd seen you eat enough chocolate bars to make him sake just to stay just in front of Pebble. He'd seen you slip on a stray jumper cable only to get right back up and do the same thing when you rounded around.

☁ He wasn't sure he wanted that rubbing off on him.

☁ But you stuck around. When Cosmo wanted to bake, you were the first to get a bit of the final product. When Astro wanted a nap, you were right there with a blanket, acting as a pillow while you napped with him.

☁ Even on runs, you were quick to come to his aid, taking back the twisteds once he'd gotten his aggro-tapes. All with a stupid smile.

☁ He kind of hated that smile.

☁ Man this is getting LONGGG

☁ Anyway, how would you and Sprout bond? Uh, the common denominators silly!

☁ You were injured on a previous run, bad enough to warrant bed rest decrees from both Cosmo AND Astro. Lucky you!

☁ Sprout had only been cleared for basic runs and this was another possible retrieval run, which you heavily protested against with not only you injured but your second healer still on probation.

☁ Still, they went on with it. You and Sprout were left in the infirmary, awkward silence settling between you. Neither of you knew what to say from there. Your buffers were gone.

☁ With a huff, you sat up, running a hand down your face before turning to face Sprout. Who was watching you.

☁ He watched you like a hawk, watching as you swung your feet off the bed and slowly stood like a shaky new born fawn. "Cosmo's not gonna like that."

☁ You snorted at him, falling back onto the bed only to try again. Sprout's eyes narrowed as he scoffed. "Astro's not gonna like it either."

☁ You snorted again, finally finding your standing before turning to look at him, narrowing your eyes at him. "Are you coming with me to get cookies or not?"

☁ ...well, he can't say he didn't warn you. He did follow you to go get treats, acting as a crutch along the way simply for the reason he didn't want to wait for you to hobble along.

☁ That was the only reason.

☁ By the time you both got to the kitchen, munching on treats, you had picked up a fun back and forth with each other, trading quips as you dug into the cookie jar once more. You pulled out the last cookie, offering it to him.

☁ He looked at it before shaking his head, only for you to roll your eyes and split it in two. He took it with a grumble, scoffing. "I made them I can make more."

☁ "Gonna make them with Astro's face again?" You shot back with a grin, nibbling onto your own half.

☁ He gave an affronted gasp before the ding of the elevator was making you both look over, Sprout giving you a hand to welcome back the group. They hadn't been gone very long, so it either went very well or not well at all.

☁ It turned out be neither. The run had been called as they were unable to fall into a rhythm and Scraps and Brightney had gotten into quite the altercation.

☁ Both you and Sprout find yourselves looked for Cosmo and Astro, only to find them chatting near the entrance, completely fine. There's a moment between you and hi m, where you both side eye each other before you're reaching out and shoving him. Without trinkets you two are practically the same speed, only he has you outmatched with stamina.

☁ Which was his only hope as he stumbled, not expecting the dirty play, watching you take off towards them. He quickly caught up trying to shove you only for you to dodge him with a laugh.

☁ He knew he should've distracted more. He had gotten complacent with Pebble and was now paying the price for it. He should've known you were a dirty filthy cheater. He should've guessed.

☁ In a last ditch effort he launched himself at you, making you squawk as you both rolled forward, giving both Cosmo and Astro little time before the two of you collided into them sending the four of you into a heap of undignified limbs and cackles.

☁ I spent that entire time just developing that omfg and its already long. sobbing.

☁ Anyway how y'all get together is gonna be TBD bc my head is hurty and my tummy is empty. ~<3

[gdinthehouseee]

I Belong To You: KWON JI-YONG x READER

summary: after years of being separated, and a night of stolen glances and unspoken feelings, your ex-boyfriend, ji-yong, invites you to his penthouse.

word count: 4024

tags: angst to fluff; exes to lovers, jealousy, slightly spicy towards the end

ao3 link

Ji-yong swirls the amber liquid in his glass, watching the way it catches the light, pretending he doesn’t notice the way cameras keep panning to you. But he does. How could he not notice the way you’re dressed in something stunning, the way you continue to command attention without lifting a finger, the way you’re pretending not to notice him too. He knows you a little too well for your liking—he always has.

Briefly pulling him out of his own head, the audience erupts into polite applause as the host rattles on about the next category, but the words barely register in his mind. He knows the drill—clap, nod, look engaged. He’s done this a million times. But tonight, it’s different. Not because you’re here. No. The two of you have been pretending not to see each other sitting so close yet so far from each other for a few years now.

Tonight is different because this time you’re not alone.

The artist you recently collaborated with is sitting beside you, leaning in too close, whispering something in your ear that makes you laugh. Ji-yong doesn’t have to check his phone to know what’s already happening. The cameras have caught it, the fans have seen it, and the internet is losing its mind. There will be clips, slowed-down edits, overanalyzed expressions. People will pick apart every second, searching for something—anything—to confirm their theories. Some will say you’ve finally moved on. Others will refuse to believe it, insisting you’re just trying to make him jealous. And maybe, in some twisted way, they’re right. Because the longer Ji-yong watches, the more certain he becomes that you know exactly what you’re doing. And it’s working.

The whispers had been there for months. Quiet speculations, half-serious comments under posts.

"Why haven’t they been seen together lately?""Ji-yong didn’t like her last three posts… something feels off.""She used to wear his jewelry all the time. When’s the last time we saw it?"

But nothing set the internet on fire like the day you released that song. It wasn’t an outright breakup anthem—no names, no obvious details. But it was melancholic. Raw. The kind of song that settled under the skin, playing in the back of people's minds long after it ended. And the lyrics…

You weren’t angry. You weren’t bitter. You were heartbroken. It didn’t take long before the theories started rolling in.

"Wait. Wait. WAIT. Is this a breakup song??"“Please tell me she just felt like making a break-up song…” "If they’re still together, why would she write this??""IS THIS ABOUT GD???”

Some refused to believe it, digging for loopholes, convincing themselves it was just a song. But the more they analyzed the lyrics, the deeper they spiraled. Someone found an old interview where you had casually mentioned, "I write best from experience." And that’s when the internet really lost its mind.

Breakup edits flooded timelines. Your old moments together—laughing, whispering, looking at each other like no one else in the world existed—now repurposed under the saddest soundtracks imaginable. Fan accounts were in shambles. Some mourned. Others coped through denial. But one tweet said it best:

"If this song is really about Ji-yong, I don’t think I’ll ever recover."

Ji-yong saw that tweet. And he hasn’t recovered either.

He should have known tonight wouldn’t have been any easier than the last few award shows. From the moment you walked into the venue, the cameras couldn’t get enough of you. The fans couldn’t stop screaming your name. And now, as you stand on stage beside him, accepting the award for Best Collaboration, Ji-yong feels a familiar, sinking weight in his chest.

You thank your team, your fans, everyone who made this happen. Your collaborator smiles beside you, the two of you standing close—too close—and Ji-yong knows the internet is already eating this up.

The lights shift. The first notes of your song together play. 

Ji-yong leans back in his seat, jaw tight, as you and your collaborator exchange a glance before stepping into position. The performance is effortless—smooth, intimate, rehearsed. Every look, every touch, every perfectly timed harmony makes it clear why the song was a hit. The chemistry is there, and Ji-yong isn’t the only one who notices. Fans are already screaming. Social media is probably on fire.

And then—just when Ji-yong thinks he can finally breathe—the lights don’t turn up again, in fact, they dim even lower. There’s a pause. Murmurs ripple through the venue.

Then, a single spotlight. It lands on you, and the opening chords of that song begin to play.

Ji-yong stiffens. He hears the collective gasp from the audience, feels the energy shift. Because this—this wasn’t publicly announced. This wasn’t planned. And yet, here you are, standing alone in the center of the stage, staring straight into the camera as you sing the first words.

"I don’t blame you, I just miss you."

The same line that had sent the internet spiraling. The song is stripped down—just a piano, raw vocals, and heartbreak woven into every note. Ji-yong doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe. The entire venue is silent, hanging onto every word. Because this is the moment. The confirmation. The truth. No one can deny it anymore. This is the breakup song. This is the proof. This is what the fans had been speculating about for years.

The camera pans through the audience, catching dropped jaws, wide eyes, people clinging to their seats. Some fans are already in tears. Others are recording with shaking hands.

And Ji-yong? He’s gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turn white. Because the way you sing it—soft, emotional, your voice cracking just enough on the high notes—he knows it’s real. He knows it’s about him. 

When you reach the bridge—the part that had wrecked him the first time he heard it—your voice softens, turning almost fragile. The lyrics cut through the silence like a confession, every word laced with something raw, something unspoken. He feels it in his chest, the weight of your voice pressing down on him like gravity. The way you linger on certain lines, how your lips part just slightly before the next note—it’s all too familiar. Because he knows this song. He was the one who used to hear those words before anyone else. He was the one who knew what they truly meant.

Then, for the briefest second, your eyes flicker across the room.

And when they finally land on him—just for a moment, just long enough to steal the air from his lungs—Ji-yong forgets everything else.

It’s barely noticeable, but he catches it. The slightest hesitation, the way your breath hitches before the next lyric, the flicker of something deep in your gaze before you force yourself to look away. But he saw it. And it’s enough. Because no matter how much time has passed, no matter how many headlines or rumors or new collaborations have tried to fill the space between you—this moment tells him everything.

You still feel it, too.

Ji-yong exhales, shaking his head, running his tongue over his teeth before looking down at his phone. Without a second thought, he opens the contact that never blocked him. The contact that maybe should have blocked him all those years ago. The contact that shut the door, yet never locked it.

Your heart is still racing as you make your way back to your seat. The applause is deafening, a mix of cheers and shocked murmurs rippling through the venue. You don’t need to check social media to know it’s already in flames—fan theories igniting, clips of your performance circulating within seconds. But none of it matters. Not right now.

Because the only thing on your mind is him.

Sliding into your seat, you smooth your dress over your legs, trying to steady your breathing. Your collaborator leans over, whispering something about how insane that moment was, how the internet is probably imploding, but his voice barely registers.

Your phone vibrates in your palm.

“Come over once this is done.”

You stare at the words, fingers tightening around your phone. The weight of his message settles over you, heavy and intoxicating all at once. He’s not even pretending. No casual “Congratulations.” No vague “We should catch up.” Just this. Direct. Certain. Exactly like him, painfully so.

Your thumb hovers over the keyboard for a moment before you start typing. “Yours or mine?”

The reply comes almost instantly.

“Don’t make me wait.”

A slow exhale leaves your lips. The meaning is clear.

You lock your phone, not even bothering to reply, pulse thrumming against your skin. The award show continues around you—more speeches, more performances, more things you should probably be paying attention to. But the only thing you can think about is the fact that in just a little while, you’ll be face to face with Ji-yong again. Something tells you neither of you will be walking away unscathed. You can’t help but think of the last time you were in his penthouse.

Maybe it was the rain that made everything feel heavier that night, or maybe it was the way Ji-yong wouldn’t look at you when he said it. “Maybe we should stop this.”  You had known, deep down, that he was already halfway out the door, that the fights weren’t really fights anymore but drawn-out endings neither of you wanted to name. “Would you have ever let me go?”  He had asked, voice quiet, almost pleading. And you hadn’t answered—because the truth was, you never would have. So he did it for you. And now, after standing under those stage lights, singing the words that had lived in your chest ever since—I don’t blame you. I just miss you.—you knew he was out there, listening. You knew he understood. He has always known you a little too well, and he always will. 

The city pulsed beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, neon signs flickering in and out of focus, their glow reflecting off the sleek marble floors. Inside, it was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that felt deliberate, heavy with the things neither of you had said in too long.

You stepped further in, the soft click of your heels the only sound between you. The air smelled like him—something warm, familiar, laced with the faintest trace of smoke. Ji-yong stood by the window, back turned, a cigarette burning between his fingers, untouched. He wasn’t smoking it. Just holding it, watching the city below like it might have answers.

"You came," he murmured, not turning around. His voice was lower than you remembered, a little rough around the edges.

"You told me to."

He finally turned then, his gaze sweeping over you, lingering. His lips curled into something unreadable—half a smirk, half something else, something more cautious. Like he hadn’t actually expected you to show. Like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted you to.

"Hell of a performance tonight," he said, voice deceptively light.

You swallowed, tilting your head. "Which part?"

"You know which part."

Of course you did. It had been impossible to miss—how the audience lost their minds when the first chords of your solo rang out, how the camera panned to him the second your voice wrapped around the lyrics. The ones you had written with him still lingering in the back of your mind. The ones he recognized the moment you sang them.

You shifted, arms crossing over your chest, suddenly too aware of the weight in the air. "Did you mean it?" you asked, voice quieter than you intended.

His jaw tightened. "Did you?"

It wasn’t an answer. But maybe neither of you had one. Not yet. The silence between you stretched, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. Outside, the city still pulsed, but here—here, it was just you and him, standing in the aftermath of something neither of you had figured out how to name.

Ji-yong finally moved, stepping away from the window, snuffing out his cigarette in a crystal ashtray on the table. "Sit," he said, nodding toward the couch.

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to—but because you knew what this was. You knew the pattern, the pull, the way the air always seemed to shift when you were in the same room. It didn’t matter how much time had passed, how many miles had stretched between you. The moment you let yourself be near him, the distance never seemed to matter at all. Still, you sat.

Ji-yong watched you for a moment before settling into the armchair across from you, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. His gaze flickered over your face, like he was searching for something—like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to find it.

"How long are we gonna do this?" His voice was quieter now, less teasing, more careful.

"Do what?" You knew what he meant, but you weren’t ready to give him that. Not yet.

He huffed out something like a laugh, shaking his head. "You know what. The stolen glances. The bullshit small talk when we run into each other. The way half the internet still thinks we’re secretly together."

You tilted your head, letting the words hang between you for a moment before saying, "Depends on what your definition of ‘stopping’ was."

His lips parted slightly, and you saw the moment the words hit—like an echo of that night, when he’d stood in this very room and told you that whatever this was… wasn’t working. That the two of you should stop seeing each other. When you hadn’t answered, because you hadn’t wanted to stop at all.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "You know why I texted you."

You leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly. "Do I?"

"I saw you up there." His voice was lower now, quieter, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to say it out loud. "Singing that song. Looking at me."

"It’s a song, Ji-yong." Your fingers curled slightly against your lap.

"Don’t do that." He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flashing. "Don’t act like that was just a song. Like you weren’t—" He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You meant it. I know you did."

Your stomach twisted. Because he was right. The song wasn’t a lie. It was the closest thing to the truth you could bring yourself to say, wrapped in melody and lyrics and the weight of everything left behind. You had known the moment you performed it that he’d hear every unspoken word between the lines. And yet, a part of you had still been surprised by how much it seemed to hit him.

Ji-yong leaned forward again, his elbows braced on his knees. "Did you write it because you were angry?"

You blinked. "What?"

"The song." His gaze burned into you. "Was it because you were angry at me?"

You let out a breath of something close to a laugh, shaking your head. "No, Ji-yong."

"Then why?"

"Because I missed you."

The words hung between you, heavier than anything else in the room. Ji-yong’s lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair, his fingers tugging at the strands in frustration. "So what, you missed me, but you moved on?" His voice was lower now, rough around the edges, like he was forcing himself to stay calm. But you knew him too well—knew the tension in his shoulders, the way his leg bounced slightly, the heat in his gaze.

You frowned. "What?"

"Him." He tilted his chin toward the muted TV, where clips of your performance still played, his eyes dark and unreadable. "You and him." His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his jaw flexed. "That’s real, isn’t it?"

"Ji-yong—"

"Just say it." His voice was firmer now, raw with something that almost sounded like desperation. "Tell me you’re with him."

Your breath caught in your throat. "I’m not."

Something flickered in his expression—relief, maybe—but it was gone in a second, buried under something heavier. "But you could be, right?" He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "You look good together. The internet thinks so, anyway. Maybe that’s what you needed—someone who wasn’t afraid to have you by his side, out in the open."

You flinched at the accusation in his tone. "That’s not fair."

"Isn’t it?" He leaned in, his eyes burning into yours. "You think I don’t see the way people talk? How they say you’re happier now? How they beg you to move on from me?" His voice dropped even lower, like he was choking on the words. "Maybe you already have."

Your chest tightened. "Ji-yong, it was just a song. Just a performance."

"Doesn’t look like that’s all it was."

"And whose fault is that?" The words snapped from your lips before you could stop them, and Ji-yong stilled, his breath hitching.

Silence stretched between you yet again. Your heart pounded, but you didn’t look away. "You were the one who said we should stop, remember?" Your voice wavered, but it didn’t break. "You walked away first. And now you’re angry because someone else was willing to stand next to me?"

Ji-yong’s throat bobbed, his fists clenching against his knees. "I—"

"You don’t get to be mad about this."

"Like hell I don’t." His voice was rough now, sharp with emotion as he sat forward, his hands gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles turned white. "You think I wanted to walk away? You think I don’t regret it every fucking day?" His jaw clenched, his eyes blazing. "Do you know what it does to me, seeing you with him? Seeing the way you smiled up at him tonight, the way he had his hands on you like he had the right?"

Your breath caught, your stomach twisting. "Ji-yong—"

"It makes me sick," he rasped, his voice nearly breaking. "Because it should be me."

The room felt impossibly small, the air thick with everything unspoken, everything left behind. You could feel your pulse in your throat, your fingers trembling against your lap.

And then, softer this time, almost like he hated himself for admitting it—

"It should’ve always been me."

The weight of his words settled between you, heavy and suffocating. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension in the space closing in, crackling like a live wire. His eyes searched yours, dark and desperate, and something in you snapped.

Before you could second-guess it—before reason could talk you out of it—you surged forward, gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him in.

Ji-yong barely had time to inhale before your lips crashed into his. A sharp inhale, a shuddered exhale—then he was kissing you back with just as much fire, his hands flying to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The moment his fingers dug into your skin, a quiet, broken sound slipped from your throat, and that was all it took for him to completely unravel. His hands slid up, one tangling into your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. His lips were frantic, almost desperate, molding against yours in a way that felt both familiar and like something entirely new. You gasped against his mouth as his teeth grazed your bottom lip, and he took the opportunity to press even closer, his grip tightening like he was terrified you’d slip away again.

The taste of him—faint traces of champagne and something unmistakably him—sent a shiver down your spine. Your fingers fisted in his shirt, as if holding onto him could stop the past from swallowing you both whole. It was intoxicating. Overwhelming. And so, so dangerous.

When the two of you finally needed to breathe, your breaths tangled in the space between you, uneven and desperate, his forehead pressed against yours like he couldn’t bear to let go. His grip on your waist was firm, his fingers still curled into the fabric of your outfit, as if releasing you meant losing you all over again. His name was on the tip of your tongue, but the weight of everything—the past, the pain, the longing—held it back. Instead, you exhaled softly, your fingers loosening their hold on his shirt just enough to smooth over the wrinkles you had left behind.

"It always has been you."

Ji-yong tensed. His breath caught, and for a second, he didn’t move. Like the words had struck him too deeply, like he wasn’t sure he had heard them right.

And then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching, desperate for something—reassurance, confirmation, maybe even permission. "Say it again," he murmured, his voice rough.

Your hand slid up, resting against his cheek, your thumb brushing just below the dark smudge of eyeliner that had started to smudge from the heat between you. "It always has been you, Ji-yong."

Something in him broke.

With a sharp inhale, he crashed his lips against yours again, this time with even more urgency, like he had something to prove. Like he needed to remind you, remind himself, of everything you had once been. His hands roamed, gripping, pulling, desperate to keep you as close as possible. You gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed the sound with a groan, deepening the kiss until the rest of the world blurred into nothing.

His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your back, fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your head just the way he liked. The kiss deepened, his lips pressing into yours with a hunger that bordered on desperation, like he was trying to erase the time you had spent apart. Like he needed to remind you exactly who he was, who he had always been to you.

"You don’t know what you do to me," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough, his breath warm as his mouth trailed lower. His lips ghosted over your jaw, down the column of your throat, lingering at the spot just below your ear. "I tried, baby." He exhaled shakily, his grip tightening at your waist. "I really fucking tried to move on."

Your fingers curled into his shirt, needing something to ground yourself as his teeth grazed your skin, his lips pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down your neck that had your breath hitching. "Ji-yong..."

With a growl, he grabbed your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the nearest surface—a sleek, marble counter, cool against your overheated skin. His hands spread your legs, stepping between them as he pulled you in, molding himself to you like he belonged there. And he did. The two of you belong to each other.

Your lips met again in a mess of teeth and tongues and unspoken words, the air between you thick with everything you had left unsaid. His fingers trailed up your thighs, his grip firm, possessive, like he was reminding himself that you were really here. That he could touch you again.

"Tell me you still feel this," he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with want. "Tell me I’m not the only one losing my mind."

You didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, you tugged him closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "I never stopped."

Ji-yong cursed under his breath before crashing his lips to yours again, this time deeper, hungrier, as if those words had undone something inside him. His hands slid to your waist, gripping tight as he lifted you off the counter effortlessly, carrying you through the familiar space like he’d done a hundred times before.

Your back hit the couch, his body covering yours in an instant. His mouth never left your skin, trailing fire wherever he touched. "You’re mine," he murmured against your collarbone, his hands sliding down, gripping your thighs to pull you even closer. "And I’m yours."

taglist: @thanosscrossmain @maskedcrawford @mirahyun @riddlerloveb0t @onyxmango @sherrayyyyy @seunghyunwifey @mattsturniolosbabymama @redhoodedtoad @bettelaboure @petersasteria @allthoughtsmindfull

[dedexo]

The Proposal

Timeskip Kenma x Fem Reader

Not proofread

“What's up bros It's Kozuken. Today, I have with me (he pulls the chair you’re sitting on in frame) my beautiful girlfriend, and we’ll be playing Minecraft together!”

The chat exploded with excitement and compliments. Kenma’s viewers loved it when you joined the stream even though it wasn't often. You only joined once in a while when Kenma asked you or on special occasions. You thought today's stream was just a regular stream, and Kenma only asked you to join because why not? However, Kenma had other plans in mind.

You guys have been dating for almost 5 years now and everything was going great, sure you had arguments here and there but nothing break up worthy. Overall, Kenma was pretty content with your relationship. The thought of marriage didn't even cross his mind until Kuroo brought it up randomly one day.

**********************************************

“Sooo when’s the wedding?” Kuroo asked while sipping his tea.

“What wedding?” Kenma asked with genuine confusion.

“Are you being serious right now?” Kuroo put down his tea and stared Kenma dead in the eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Are you not planning on marrying y/n?”

“Oh….” Kenma sits there and ponders for a couple of seconds. “Well to be honest I didn't really think about marriage. It would be nice though, calling her my wife and all.” A slight blush appeared on his cheeks.

“Well you better get on with it, no girl would stay with you this long if she didn't think you were gonna eventually propose to her. And if you wait too long she might just leave you.”

**********************************************

And that’s how he ended up here nervously sitting with a ring in his pocket and you sitting next to him completely oblivious to his plan.

He planned to propose to you through Minecraft since it was the first game you guys ever played together, but throughout the whole stream, he kept questioning himself. What if you said no? Should he really do this on stream where millions of people can see? Should he have proposed a different way? What if you wanted some big fancy flowers on the beach kinda proposal? How would he recover if you rejected him in front of his fans? These thoughts plagued his mind until he realized that it was almost time for the stream to end. It was now or never.

“Before we end the stream there's something I’d like to show you y/n, follow me.” Kenma said sounding kinda uneasy.

“Okay!” You say with a bit of excitement. You noticed that he was acting kinda weird but you decided to ignore it thinking it was nothing and continued to follow him in the game.

He carried you to this super pretty area that was covered in flowers. You could tell that there was a sign in the middle of it but you were too far away to see what it said. Once you were close enough you finally read what it said. 

“WILL YOU MARRY ME Y/N💍?”

It took you a couple of seconds to process what was happening. Is this for real??

You look over at Kenma and he is on one knee with a ring in his hand.

You sat there, hands covering your mouth, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Y/n, you are the best girl I could ever ask for, I love you with all my heart and I cant imagine my life without you in it. Will you marry me?

“OH MY GOD YESSSSS!!” You jump on him causing you both to tumble over.

You guys get up off the floor and Kenma slides the ring on your finger

The stream chat was exploding with congratulations and people laughing at the fall. 

Kenma thanked his viewers for the support and ended the stream.

You two spent the rest of the evening celebrating and looking at wedding inspo on Pinterest.

_________________________________________

If you couldn't already tell I lost motivation at the end 🙃  

[myceliacrochet]

URGENT: 4yo Little Girl and Her Family Malnutritioned and Freezing!! (Sham and Moneer al-Anqar -- Skills Series: "Easy Piece First")

Reblog if u answer pls tysm!🩷

There's no shame in that! In this series, I'll be sharing some tips to help us keep going strong, carrying these families throughout this brutal winter of extermination. With each post I'll be highlighting a family in desperate need.

Easy Piece First

Whether we're working at a job, making commissions, working on posts, or doing other tasks, mutual aid for genocide relief can be overwhelming. The stakes are through the roof, and sometimes the people who most want to help are the people least able to. Often I freeze in place, overwhelmed with emotion, unsure of where to start. Depression, anxiety, and AuDHD don't help!

So I hope this skill is of use to you. I call it "Easy Piece First" because that's what helps me remember it, but it's definitely not a new idea.

I started this post with the easiest small step accessible. For me, that was writing down Moneer's current blog tag (@sham-moner) in a new post. This was the easiest for me because it required no decision-making and could be done in a few seconds. Then I filled in the other parts that don't take much thought -- the GoFundMe link, the vetting, and some tags.

For other posts, sometimes I'll be making art that is unrelated and then I'll think of a post to go with it.

Lazy and Heartless, or Focused and Strategic?

Everyone is different, but trying to force yourself to start with the hardest part first (what some people call the "Eat That Frog" approach) can actually make things take longer for some people. Using "Easy Piece First," I was able to get more done with my time, and with less trouble. This makes my efforts more sustainable long-term.

On a related note, I actually take a lot of measures to not walk around with my chest constantly hurting for Palestinians anymore (though there's nothing wrong with doing so). My chest was aching at all times for months until I converted some of my worry into action and some of it into self-care -- so I could actually get more done for Palestinians, who do not need my tears but my labor.

This winter is a marathon, and we gotta see it through to the end.

Take care of yourself so you can get more done and keep helping people long-term.

Do not give yourself a heart condition.

Give Palestinians labor.

That's how I'm keeping myself out of the hospital and maximizing what I can do for people, but we all have our own strategies.

But that's enough about us -- let's talk about these two amazing kids.

Moneer and Sham

Palestinians are just regular people. That's the horrible reality. It's the exact same as if people from your own background, even your own family were getting tortured and killed.

Like, Moneer is a 19yo who had recently started university when the genocide began. Sham is 4, Mohammed is 16, Rana is 21, and Rasha is 22.

What were you going through when you were 4? How would you have felt if you saw people getting blown up at that age? What if your house was blown up and all your toys and friends were lost, and you had to live outside in the winter, scrounging for moldy bread and polluted water?

What if you lived with the smell of rotting bodies when you were 4? Did you know what that smelled like as a little kid? I still don't know what that smells like. I didn't really know what death was at that age. She does.

This small child is in critical need of food and water!!

She is starving!!

Sham will die this winter without more donations!!

This is a call to action for an extremely urgent campaign!!!

It's been 2 days, and it was 2 days before that! This is far too long!!

Moneer is still recovering from major surgery. He is in a lot of pain and is also malnutritioned and in need of clean water and warmth.

Moneer is very close to his family and dearly loves his mom, Amani (39). Amani is in a lot of danger because she has asthma in a dusty massacre zone without treatment. It's killing Moneer to watch his mom go through this.

Drink some water, take a rest, and keep putting one foot in front of the other, using whatever tools work for you.

We are not letting these kids and their family die this winter!! We can do this!!

Vetting: GazaVetters #8

@opencommunion @beserkerjewel @deepspaceboytoy @rhubarbspring @eryuditely @lesbianmaxevans @malcriada @turian @sxpph0 @rebel-girl-queen-of-my-world @neptunerings @dykesbat @halalgirlmeg @userpeggycarter @minosbull @hamstertross @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness-blog @definitelynotafox @kaleschmidt @jaylung101 @captainsaltymuyfancy2 @timetravellingkitty @sun-and-moon-side @kahin @greenmossyrock @northgazaupdates2 @irhabiya @theparanoid @steep1253o @victoriawhimsey @dirhwangdaseul @cruzwalters @ladycelebrianofimladris @tamamita @50seagullsinatrenchcoat @deathlonging @nconiku @briarhips @kaislittlecorner @mahoushojoe @sar-soor @rhubarbspring @pcktknife @sawasawako @feluka @anneemay-blog @ralfocups

P.S.: I have several people waiting on me for posts. I am so sorry -- I will get them finished and published as soon as possible.

@soft-sunbird Thank you dear friend🥰🩷 I love you. You're doing so great

Check out the comments for many ways to help!

[httpuckdrop]

ashes – day 1

his eyes were stuck on you from the second you entered the club.

it wasn't a completely uncommon thing for you to have men staring at you in public places, especially not when you were out with your hot girlfriends, all wearing tiny dresses with hair fixed to perfection. nonetheless, you were more used to the men only ever entertaining the most gorgeous members of your friend group, and men losing interest after an hour of you not giving a shit about their longing gazes.

this specific one, however, didn't seem to understand the meaning behind your actions. nearing three hours after you first stepped into the room, you still caught him eyeing you up whenever you accidentally looked his way. could he not take a hint?

it wasn't like he wasn't hot enough for you – quite the opposite, to be honest. with his defined jaw speckled with just a faint hint of stubble, a smile that made something tighten in your stomach without him even trying, and those baby blue eyes (so bright they could blind you across the room), he could probably bag any girl in the world. he probably has, too, judging by the way he and his friend seem to think that they own not just the club but the rest of the world as well.

you're familiar with the type; likely some type of spoiled sports guys, celebrating a good game or season or whatever. caps on their heads, beer glasses in their hands, top buttons of their shirts undone. you truly couldn't care less.

the guy left your brain for a few moments when it was suddenly your turn to get your group a new round of drinks. you waited by the bar for a minute or two, and when the bartender was done mixing your round, he calculated the price for you before running off to get the card machine.

you really shouldn't have been surprised by the figure appearing by your side. you definitely should have figured out that he would see this as his chance.

"let me pay for the round." you hadn't heard his voice before, but you didn't need to – or want to, for that matter – look at him to know who it was. a mere shake of your head should've been enough, you thought. apparently not. "you're a group of like, what, six people? can't be too expensive, i'll handle it."

"i can handle it, too," you countered.

"i'm sure you can," he started with a chuckle. "but you shouldn't have to."

taking a deep breath, you finally turned to him, feeling the frustration building up in the pit of your stomach when your eyes met his because who allowed him to be this breathtaking up close? "i'm not looking for some sugar daddy, so you can leave."

his jaw dropped slightly at this, eyes widening and cheeks growing pink – or were they always that color? was it due to the alcohol or just the proximity to you? – but then he shook his head slightly to recover. "that's not what i meant," he said, and you almost believed the genuine glimmer in his gaze. "i just wanted to do something good, i don't know. i'm sorry if that came out wrong."

you couldn't help but nod at this, the corners of your lips curling up at the sight of his hand scratching the back of his neck. "don't worry about it," you assured him, wanting- needing to look away, but not finding yourself able to. he looked young, probably around your age instead of the typical nasty old men who liked to pick up pretty girls and brag about their wallets. his eyes were kind, gentle, the different shades of blue swirling around like a rough sea; easy to get lost in. the brown curls that poked out at the back of his cap were unruly yet soft, and in a weak moment, you found yourself wondering how it would feel to pull your fingers through them.

the bartender interrupted your moment – you weren't sure if only seconds had passed or if it had been minutes, hours – and a breath of relief escaped from you at the beep from the card machine after you tapped your phone against it. at the same time, you really didn't want to go back to your friends. you could spend your whole lifetime just staring at the man in front of you without being bored for even a second. you hadn't yet realized the spell you were under, or just how willing you'd be to agree to anything for him.

after making sure that the drinks were safely transported to your table, the man managed to lure you with him to his own table instead. most of his friends were gone by now, searching for single girls on the dance floor, and the three that were still sat there were too invested in a heated discussion about football to care even the slightest about you two.

he introduced himself as jack, 23 years old but turning 24 in the spring, the middle of three brothers. when you questioned him about sports, wanting to confirm your premature suspicions, he laughed and confirmed that he indeed "works with hockey", but never went any further than that. instead, he asked for your name, told you that it was beautiful and asked where you got it from. he asked to hear about your studies, seemingly authentically curious about your boring homework and annoying lecturers. he asked about your family, your childhood, your dreams.

no matter what story you told, he listened with great intent, that boyish grin permanent on his lips and a laugh never far away. jack looked at you like he was already in love with you; a look you're sure he has practiced for ages.

but at this point, you honestly didn't care.

after this, everything went by in a blur. one second, you were still just sitting on that couch in the club, chatting about anything and everything. the next, you were making out in the back of an uber, his calloused palms searching every inch of skin they could reach under your shirt. the next, your back met the covers of the bed in his apartment, dazed eyes watching as this masterpiece of a man climbed on top of you and leaned down to seal his lips against yours yet again.

his fingers left imaginary traces along your skin, his lips then following the path they'd drawn. you'd been in this position before, sure, but this sensation was new – something about him made it so different from anything you'd felt before. his touch drew out shallow breaths and sweet noises from you as he discovered your body, helping him understand how to please you the way you wanted.

the time spent with jack went on for hours, yet it was over in mere seconds. when he held you against his chest, you wanted nothing more than to stay there forever, to rest your head against him until the world collapsed under your feet, to feel his skin against yours until the end of time.

but you knew that couldn't happen.

so as soon as his low snores filled the air, when his breath became steady and you were sure he was asleep, you swiftly fled from his grasp.

getting dressed in a tight dress and your previously discarded underwear after a night like this was always awkward, and leaving a gorgeous man alone in his big bed always sucked. but you had no other option.

after closing his front door behind you quietly, you let out a deep sigh, as if to let go of what had just happened. you couldn't afford to let it stay on your mind, you couldn't obsess over it. there was no point. if you were lucky, you would never have to see him again.

unfortunately, luck has never really been on your side.

[merakiui]

maybe, i'm afraid.

azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: slight angst, nsfw, azul bottles his feelings and is insecure note - happy birthday to my favorite tako in the whole world. <3 may you have wonderful days forever!! // loosely inspired by lovelytheband's "maybe, i'm afraid."

i. spring - dancing in your party dress, you were singing me some frank sinatra as you wept. pull me close enough. it seems like we lost touch, so hold me as the record skips.

“Can you believe we’re gonna be fourth years?!” Kalim exclaims with wide, sparkling eyes. They look like twin garnets set into his face—polished jewels having caught the aquatic illumination from Mostro Lounge’s aquarium. “Time really does fly, huh!”

“Feels like yesterday,” Ruggie agrees around a mouthful of food. His plate is stacked as high as it can possibly get, piled with contrasting flavors. “Pretty crazy to think we’re all gonna be heading off in different directions soon.”

Jade nods. “Our school lives are as fun as they are fleeting.”

An odd quiet falls over the three of them, which is soon broken when Floyd drapes himself over the booth. He leans down to swipe a sliver from Jade’s plate. “Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“Just reminiscing.”

“Ah. S’bout that time, ain’t it? Gettin’ sentimental in the spring.”

“Makes sense. The semester’s ending and people are starting up their internships or going home. Really makes you think…”

Ruggie gazes at the group huddled near the bar. Riddle, Jamil, and a half-awake Silver chat alongside you and Azul. You seem to be in the middle of a riveting story, for your arms gesticulate wildly. Azul looks on with what Ruggie thinks is the most mushy-gushy, ooey-gooey smile he’s ever seen.

“We’re gonna come back in the winter, aren’t we?” Kalim asks, tilting his head.

“Indeed. For the cultural festival.”

“Yeah, that’s right! It’ll be fun to see you guys after so much time apart. Oh, we should all keep in touch! That way it’ll feel like no time has passed at all.”

“Perhaps not for us.” Jade follows Ruggie’s line of sight, landing on one person in particular. “For others, the gap is cavernous.”

“What do you mean, Jade?”

Floyd catches on then. “S’not our fault he’s not sayin’ anything.”

Ruggie shrugs. “It doesn’t concern me.” He pops up from his spot in the booth, grinning. “It’s been great and all, but I’ve gotta get my fill. Wouldn’t be right for a guy to skimp out when it’s Azul hosting.”

Giggling, Floyd waves him off. “You do that, Sharksucker.”

Kalim turns to the twins, brows raised. “You’re talking about Azul?”

“He’s been swept up in Shrimpy ever since. It’s been—how long now?—about two years or something.”

“Oh.” Kalim blinks back at him, slow on the uptake. And then, seconds later, it hits him. “Ohhh! He likes (Name)!”

“There ya go.”

“I’m afraid he’s yet to confess,” Jade adds around a bite of cake. “You should see the plans he’s drafted. Dozens of them, in fact. Each one is… Oh, perhaps I’ve said too much already.”

“I don’t get it. If he likes (Name) so much, why wouldn’t he just confess? Why make plans?”

“Wow, Sea Otter, you don’t play when it comes to feelings, do ya?”

“If it was me, I’d want everyone to know how much I care about someone.” To demonstrate this point, he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “You’re the best, (Name)!”

You glance past a now wide-awake Silver at the twins and Kalim. Mirroring his actions, you reply in a giggly voice, “Thanks! You’re great, too, Kalim!”

Beaming, he says, “See? It’s not so difficult. If Azul needs any help, I’d be happy to—”

Floyd throws his head back and cackles like a madman. “Not so difficult for you!”

Jade masks his amusement behind a gloved fist. “My, my. I think I’ve just witnessed the very soul drain from Azul’s eyes. You have quite the talent, Kalim.”

Kalim doesn’t hear the underlying meaning or the backhanded barb in his statement. “He’s got time, doesn’t he?”

“That’s what he keeps saying. But deep down he knows.” Floyd watches Azul hurry to recover his composure before anyone can notice. “He’s leaving for his internship after school’s over and then graduation’s next spring. He’s running out of time.”

“Does (Name) like him? Maybe she’ll confess before he does!”

“That’s just it. He doesn’t know what Shrimpy feels for him. Been driving himself crazy all school year tryin’ to figure that one out.”

“I suspect he’s grown excessively cautious as a result of his fear of rejection,” Jade explains, dragging his fork through the buttercream smeared on his plate.

“But if he confesses now and she doesn’t feel the same, he’ll have all summer to recover.” Kalim turns his stare on you next. “(Name)’s always been nice. I’m sure she wouldn’t shatter his heart.”

“When you’re Azul, even the tiniest push is enough.” 

“Really? But he’s always so strong!”

Jade hums. “Three hearts are quite the boon-burden.”

“Only makes lovin’ someone that much worse. Cuz then you’re lovin’ ’em three times as much.”

“Isn’t that good? I think it’s sweet Azul cares about (Name) so much.”

“Sweet…” Jade shares a look with Floyd. Something unspoken passes between them. “Yes, I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“Azul thinks it’s a pain in the ass. Throws him off his course and he loooves bein’ on his course.” 

Kalim stares a moment longer. “Maybe he needs a push in the right direction.”

“Liquid courage works wonders—”

“—or gives way to woe.”

“Nothing like that.” He doesn’t elaborate further, instead getting up and padding over to the bar with a cheerful bounce in his steps. “Hey, everyone, let’s take a picture!”

Riddle welcomes him with a warm smile. “Ah, hello there, Kalim.”

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Jamil comments, arms folding across his chest. Which, arguably, is worse because it can only spell trouble should Kalim find himself inspired.

“Way ahead of you!” You hold your Ghost Camera up, turning the lens on Kalim. Lighting up like the very sun in the sky, he poses just as you snap a photo. It takes a few moments for it to develop, but once it does you hand it over to him for his perusal. “Looking good as always.”

“Aww, thanks! Okay, your turn next! Let’s get a big group photo and then individual photos.” With the camera now in his possession, Kalim’s free to fidget with it as he pleases. “Ooh, this is neat!”

“Careful with that!” Jamil bounds forward just in case. “The Headmage gave that to (Name). Don’t break it.”

“I won’t,” Kalim promises, holding it up to capture you and Jamil in its sight. “I think I’ve got it! Everyone, group up! Picture time!”

There’s lots of fumbling. An argument about height breaks out. Floyd pokes fun at Riddle for having to stand in front to account for his height. Riddle fumes, red with anger, and stomps his foot indignantly—all while insisting he’s still growing. You offer to stand beside him, but he hisses at you like a cat: “Don’t patronize me! I’m of perfect, healthy stature for someone my age!”

Kalim looks on from behind the camera. “Actually, can we get (Name) and Azul together first?”

Azul, who had been in the process of adding to the joke with a comment of his own, hesitates. He peers at Kalim, his walls rising. “Me?”

“Yeah! Only fair to put you front and center. You’re the host, after all!”

“Ah, right. Of course. But then—”

“Why me?” you ask, confused. “If anything, I should stay out of the picture. I’m not a third year like the rest of you.”

Kalim gasps, scandalized. “We can’t do that! It doesn’t matter what year you are. You’re still our friend, and parties are for everyone to enjoy.”

“Doesn’t that throw off the original plan?” Ruggie wonders, munching on a frosted donut.

“Kalim, we need to account for height. Riddle can’t stand in the back.” Jamil glances apologetically at Riddle. “That’s just the reality of it.”

Riddle huffs, refusing to dignify that with a response.

“I’ll stand in the front,” Silver offers.

“What? No, that’s not the issue here, Silver.”

“It’s not? I thought we were picking who stands beside (Name).”

“Ooh, I wanna stand with Shrimpy!” Floyd wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your head. “C’mon, Sea Otter, take our pic!”

Jamil sighs. “All of you…”

“Shall we take individual photos with (Name) first?” Jade suggests, smiling placidly at Kalim.

This time the message is received loud and clear. “Oh, great idea, Jade! Azul and (Name), could you stand next to each other?”

The group disperses to allow you and Azul to do just that. Rigidly, Azul steps closer. He keeps a healthy distance between your bodies, one Jade picks up on right away.

“Please smile and pretend like you love each other,” he instructs, to which Azul flusters.

“W-What? Jade, that’s—”

“C’mere, Ashengrotto! I don’t bite!”

With a joyous laugh, you wrap your arm around Azul’s waist and drag him in close. He stumbles, flushed in the face, just as the camera flashes. The corresponding photo slides out next, blank for a while. Eventually, the image begins to show up with striking clarity.

“How’s it look? Great, right?” As soon as it happened, it’s gone—your warmth. The comfort of being held. Azul almost pursues you when you release him from your grasp and move towards Kalim to inspect the photo. Thankfully, he catches himself. “Hey, this is nice! Good job.”

You and Kalim share a high-five.

“Me next, Sea Otter!” Floyd crowds in, baring his pointed teeth in an unruly grin.

With everyone’s attention on you, Kalim, and the camera, Azul’s left to stand behind in silence. Anticipating the rainless deluge, Jade lingers within earshot.

“I know,” he mutters in a brittle tone. “Don’t say a word.”

“Not a peep. Although if I may share just a tiny tidbit… Kalim offered some very helpful advice. You may want to hear it.”

Azul stares at him, stunned. “You told Kalim?”

“Not directly, no. It was implied.” Jade averts his mismatched eyes on purpose. “More or less.”

“I should’ve made you and Floyd sign NDAs…”

“Is it really so sensitive?”

“Yes! Yes, of course it is!” Azul deflates with a sigh, looking on mournfully. You’re trying to snatch the camera from Floyd’s hands. He holds it up and out of reach, laughing raucously. “What did he say?”

“If you confess now, you’ll have the entire summer to mend your tattered heart.”

Azul barks out a short, hollow laugh. “In an ideal world, that’s easy.”

“You’re making it more difficult than it needs to be.” Jade issues an encouraging smile. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Are you seriously asking that?”

“It’s just something to consider.”

A minute ticks between them. Jade watches the scene alongside Azul, delighting in distant chaos.

“I’m afraid, Jade,” he admits quietly, the confession as soft and fragile as a single breath. “She’s everything and I’m…nothing.”

Jade frowns in disagreement.

“I’ve looked at it from every conceivable angle. There isn’t any calculated risk to be made—no potential profit or success to be had.”

“Are you certain?”

“Very.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to get it off your chest. We have a few weeks left before the break. If not your heart, perhaps you could establish a means to communicate?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt… For the sake of networking—”

Jade chuckles. “Networking? Is that it?”

Azul scowls. “You’re awfully irritating tonight.”

“I’m not the one with his tentacles tied, hopelessly infatuated.” 

“You—”

“(Name), there’s something Azul would like to tell you,” Jade announces, and you turn to look at him.

Azul thinks he should just go ahead and die right there. Is it possible to spontaneously combust if he thinks about it long enough? Is such a phenomenon magic? All he needs to do is visualize it and then the spark will catch and—

“Yeah? What’s up, Azul?”

Azul flounders, his concentration broken. Like he’s done so many times in the past, he plasters his trademark smirk-grin on and falls into the shoes of the sleazy conman. “If you ever find yourself in need of study materials even after I’ve graduated, do not hesitate to contact me and I—”

You laugh. “I think I’ll be good. Thanks, though.”

With withering confidence, he chuckles. “I could give you quite the deal. You’d be missing out…”

You roll your eyes, unconvinced.

Jade—annoying, asshole Jade—brushes past, smooth as sea glass. “I shall take my leave, but please continue your chat. I believe there’s a camera waiting to capture the memory of me.”

Now it’s just you and Azul. He clears his throat, suddenly awkward.

“(Name), I—”

“Azul—”

“Oh.” He stares at you, a smile twitching on his lips. “You first.”

“No, no, you spoke before me.”

“Ah. Well…”

If you confess now, you’ll have the entire summer to mend your tattered heart. As if a love that’s been flowering for two years could possibly be resolved within the span of a few months.

He tries again even though it’s not what he really wants to say. “I do hope you’ll have a pleasant summer.”

“You as well.” You nudge him. “Kick ass at your internship.”

“I intend to.” Right. Internship. Work. Business. He can hold a normal conversation if that’s the topic. “And you? Do you plan to stay here?”

“Yeah. Crowley’s letting Grim and me live on campus since we don’t have anywhere else to go. I’ll work part-time in Craneport. Summer is a great season for tourism, but I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

Azul laughs. “If it’s a family, they may spend more on kid’s menus for the novelty of it all. Be sure to talk it up to truly sell it. All children deserve to know the magic of a seasonal menu, do they not? Food in fun shapes. Fairy tales and sparkles. All of that razzmatazz. It’s the experience they’re paying for, after all.”

“Is that advice free?”

“Is it?”

“Fine, fine.” You dig through your pocket and hand him the photo from earlier. “Your payment, good sir. A memento of me.”

Azul takes it from you, admires your effortlessly pretty smile, and then freezes. “Oh, I look positively dreadful!”

“Not at all. It adds character.”

“A horrid sort of character.”

You sidle up beside him, peering at the picture. “I like it. It’s a photo of an imperfect Azul.”

“What an ambiguous compliment.”

“I’m serious! It’s Azul when he’s not acting. I like imperfect Azul. He’s authentic. A real person.” You pat him on the shoulder. He stiffens, betraying his initial nonchalance. “Or maybe not. One day I’ll catch you off guard.”

“We’ll see.”

“One day…” Your attention is stolen when you catch sight of the group attempting to bunch together for a selfie. Offering Azul that same smile he’s admired ever since he saw it, you add, “Have a fun summer. Don’t be a stranger next year, okay?” And then you’re bounding across the lounge. “Wait for me! I want in, too!”

For the rest of the semester, Azul keeps the photo tucked away in his phone case.

I have time to mull over the pros and cons, he tells himself when he departs through the mirror, summer break at his fingertips.

ii. summer - maybe i’m just too good. maybe i’ll run away. maybe i’m over you. maybe i shouldn’t stay. maybe i just don’t care. maybe i talk too much.

It occurs to you, while sorting through the photos you’ve taken throughout this past school year, that there’s an absurd amount of Azul. Whether on his own or with others, he appears in more photos than anyone else. You wonder how that happened—how you managed to be there for so many of his moments, each one documented in photographic permanence.

Some of them are humorous. Azul looking unimpressed when you lifted your camera to capture him. Grim jumping into his arms to demand snacks. His glasses sitting crooked on his face. Some of them are endearing. Azul reading in a comfortable nook in the library. Azul smiling fondly at the lens during an alchemy lesson. Azul laughing after you cracked a joke during PE. Some of them are animated. Azul waving at you from across the courtyard. Azul rolling his eyes at a dull pun. Azul playfully blowing a kiss to the camera after you told him to do something memorable. Some are special. Azul in his birthday robes. Azul during that time Mostro Lounge became a butler café for one week. Azul on his last day of the semester, leveling the camera with a roguish smirk.

This one—the most recent and last photo taken of him—is especially important. It’s the conversation that prompted an unforgettable expression that fills you with butterflies whenever you recall it.

“I think you’ll miss me,” you told him, elbowing him for good measure.

“I think I will,” he replied, his lips curling.

Unequipped to deliver a witty retort, you could only gawk.

“Don’t tell me that’s all it takes to shock you into silence.” He chuckled, and there was that infamous smirk-grin—sitting so perfectly on his face, as if it was meant to be there for this very exchange. “You’re too easy, (Name). Where’s the challenge?”

Wordlessly, you raised your Ghost Camera and snapped his picture.

There are so many facets to his person that you’ve managed to catch on your camera—complex layers you wouldn’t have otherwise witnessed if you hadn’t spent so much time around him.

Now you realize why you have an abundance of Azul photos.

We sure hung out a lot this year, and every time I had my camera…

Is he your muse? Is he just naturally photogenic? He fits into plenty of backgrounds, but it’s never the scenery that fascinates and bewitches. It’s always his expression, his body language, his emotions. And the reason all of these photos are so important is because this is an Azul who is comfortable enough to show these sides to you. An Azul who wants you to document his best and his worst, his beautiful and his ugly, his silly and his serious.

Sitting at your desk, thumbing through stacks of photos, you know he’s more than a muse. As you watch Azul move in various pictures, you wonder what he’s doing. It’s only a month into summer, but everything feels so slow. Campus has cleared out, and with it the lounge has closed for the season. You’re certain he still has his ways of making profit and spreading word of its wonders. Azul isn’t foolish. He’s always working an angle. Endlessly clever and stubbornly ambitious.

Does he miss me, too? you think, running your finger over his smiling face. Or was that just something he said to get a reaction?

Just then, a gut-wrenching thought lodges itself deep: Are we even friends? What if he thinks I’m a nuisance? Maybe he’s just tolerating me and all this time I’ve been delusional.

You glimpse the photos again, watching Azul laugh soundlessly in an animated loop. What am I to you, Azul?

As if on cue, having sensed your sadness, arms wrap around you from behind. For a second you think it’s Grim, but then you see distinctly human hands clasping together. You whirl, startled out of your skin, to find Azul Ashengrotto standing there.

“Wha… What?”

He’s…here. Azul is standing in your bedroom.

You blink once and he remains. You blink twice and he’s still there, gazing down at you with soft, smiling features.

“Hello to you as well.”

“Hey…?” You pat his cheek and flinch away. “Oh, you’re real!”

“Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?” Chuckling, he withdraws and moves to stand at your deskside. “I’m wounded. To think you would forget me just like that. And I thought I was plenty memorable.” He blows you a mock kiss then, and that’s when it finally strikes you.

This isn’t your Azul. This is an Azul from your photos.

How is this even possible? you think, scrambling to find which picture—which memory—he’s from. In doing so, you remember a particularly unique fact about the Ghost Camera. It’s a magical device that allows a photographer to capture slivers of their subject’s soul, which gives way to a special sort of connection known as a soulbond. The deeper the bond, the more likely the person in the photographs is to take on animation and, in some cases, slip out of the image that contains them.

So this is Azul from the time at which he was last photographed, you determine, holding up pictures to match his corporeal likeness to that of the scenery. The Ghost Camera is so cool…

“I missed you, you know.”

“Did you now?” He leans in close, curious. “How much?”

You push him away with a weak scoff. This isn’t good for your heart. Any closer and you might say something you’ll come to regret.

“Not as much as you think.”

“Is that so?” His gaze pans over to the pile of photos on your desk. “And these photos are simply here for convenience?”

“D-Don’t worry about it! Summer project. You wouldn’t get it.”

He flashes his teeth at you in a bright, competitive grin. “Try me.”

“You’re so nosy. Don’t you get tired of prying?”

“Not in the slightest.” He leans against the desk, his arms folding casually over his chest. “That’s besides the point. You’re avoiding the subject at hand.”

You turn in your chair and open your mouth to reply—why are you so invested in this?—but a better idea crops up. Meeting his cerulean stare with fierce, fiery eyes, you challenge him: “If it matters so much to you, I could be convinced to share my plans for the small price of one kiss. A real kiss. Not that fake one from before.”

Azul blinks back at you, a smirk crawling onto his face. “Is that all you desire?”

“What do you mean by—”

Your question is cut off when another set of arms embraces you from behind. Warm, soft lips press against your cheek; his breath tickles your ear.

“Are two not better than one?”

With a yelp, you jerk back so fast that you almost fall out of your chair. Standing there, looking very proud of himself, is another Azul. But this one, unlike Dorm Azul, is dressed in his school uniform. A very helpful distinction.

“D-Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

It’s the only coherent sentence you can manage. Your mind is a panicked muddle: I can’t believe it. Two Azuls. Am I dreaming? This is definitely a dream, right? There’s no way he’d kiss me on the…

You slap your hand over your cheek, gasping. “Y-You kissed me?!”

“Is that not the price you wanted me to pay?” School Azul asks, one brow raised as if daring you to deny that fact.

Dorm Azul’s fingers curl under your chin, guiding your gaze towards him. “Unless you’d like to raise the price…”

You swallow thickly. This can’t be happening.

“Of course, in raising the price, it’s expected you raise the value of the information you’re willing to divulge,” School Azul adds with a chuckle. “Is that not fair?”

You shrink under both of their insistent stares. “W-Why do you even wanna know?”

“Why not? Any information is good information so long as it’s useful.”

You scoff, but it comes out choked and shy. “I… I’m going to use these photos to put together a present for you. I know your birthday’s so far away, but I’m getting a head start.”

“And this present would entail…?”

You click your tongue at him. “I already paid my half for that kiss. No more.”

“Aah, is that right?” Dorm Azul leans in, kissing dangerously close to your lips. You reach up to touch the corner of your mouth after he’s pulled away. “How much for the full story?”

“How much are you willing to pay?”

School Azul rests his chin on your shoulder. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you up from your seat. This proximity allows you to feel his hair as it brushes against your face. Dorm Azul closes the distance as if it’s second nature, and now you’re sandwiched between the both of them.

Your heart stumbles in your chest. He’s quite literally surrounding you, but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“A very valid question.” Dorm Azul glances coyly at School Azul. “What do you think, Me?”

“Will we be enough for you, (Name)?” he purrs, rubbing slow circles into your hips.

You’re dizzy in their arms, your entire body warming with anticipation and embarrassment alike. Is it okay to be selfish? Even though this isn’t technically Azul—just mere memories of him—it seems so real. He’s holding you, touching you, reaching for you…

“Hmm. Two does seem to be a bit much.”

“Let’s call it a holiday and say it’s seasonal spoiling.”

“A gift for the summer.”

“Do open the window to let in the breeze. The heat is prone to making one feel rather…stuffy.”

They’re doing this on purpose. Maybe another Azul is more troublesome than I once thought. I can only handle so much charm!

Shrugging off self-doubt, you grab Dorm Azul by his lapels and yank him towards you, sealing the space that once separated your mouths in a hungry kiss. He melts against you, eyes fluttering shut. It’s quick and starved, the way you chase each other’s lips. You cling to him before you can fall, arms looped around his neck to keep him near.

Fully clothed and achingly desperate, you loathe the unbearable heat, but nothing is more molten than the space between your thighs.

Meanwhile, School Azul takes his sweet time running his hands along your sides, up the length of your body until he reaches your chest. With his form pinned to yours, you can feel his erection pressing against your ass. Rather shamelessly, he rolls his hips. You’re pushed up against Dorm Azul next, who takes hold of your hand and guides it to the strain in his slacks. He pulls away briefly to allow School Azul to slide your shirt up and over your head.

“Were you anticipating this?” he whispers, taking hold of your breasts.

“No way,” you protest between kisses. “Not… No. K-Keep dreaming. It’s too much trouble to wear one in the summer. Gets hot and—”

Dorm Azul captures your lips in another ravenous smooch, and the objection dies in your throat.

“There’s no need for these pesky articles where I’m from,” School Azul murmurs. He presses kisses into your bare shoulder, humming his very obvious delight. “You’d have already been laid out beneath me if that were the case… Soft and sweet, all mine to love at the bottom of the sea…”

“Humans have so many steps,” Dorm Azul laments, tutting.

“And merfolk don’t?” You try to sound smart with your question, but it comes out breathless when your nipple’s twisted between two fingers. “Oh…”

“Not when it comes to clothing. The very concept doesn’t exist beneath the waves.”

“You could visit sometime and see for yourself. I’ll welcome you with open arms.” Dorm Azul rests his forehead against yours. “And maybe then you’ll find yourself so taken with my home that you’ll want to stay.”

“A tempting offer.”

“But?” he prompts, his gaze falling to your hand as you palm him through his pants. He inhales a shaky breath.

“What’s stopping you?” the other Azul asks, his voice muffled in your skin.

“Firstly, I’m not a mer.”

“My dear, that’s nothing. Have you forgotten my proficiency in potionology?”

“And how much will one of your potions cost? I’d love to visit, but if it’s going to bankrupt me—”

“For you, a single kiss is all I require.”

“Isn’t that awfully cheap?”

Dorm Azul chuckles at this back-and-forth. “You say that as if you want me to charge an exorbitant amount.”

Glaring, you squeeze him out of revenge. His laughter comes out choked next, replaced with a needy whimper. Unbelievable.

“Maybe I do.”

“I would be careful with those words, dearest. I might take them to heart.”

He ruts against your hand, panting into your mouth. The kiss is sloppy and wet, all tongue and saliva. You move on instinct, grabbing at his shoulders when you’re taken to bed next. Both Azuls peer down at you from where they kneel on either side of you. They issue you hazy, lust-drunk smiles. Hands wander, feeling every inch you have to offer. You shut your eyes and submit to titillating touches.

“You really did miss me,” School Azul remarks when his fingers slip into your shorts to rub you through your sodden panties. Your breath hitches, a strangled whine squeezed from your throat, and he laughs. “I missed you, too.”

“I really like you,” you blurt, chest heaving with your every breath. He squeezes your clit to draw another sinful groan from you. “I think—Azul, you’re so—I think you’re so amazing… I wish we talked more. The year—aah… It went by so fast.”

“It did, didn’t it?”

“I wanna know you—the real you. I wanna know what Azul’s like when he’s comfortable and when he’s sad and when he’s happy. I wanna—ooh! Please… Please, Azul…” You grab fistfuls of the sheets, arching up towards the hands that caress your stomach lovingly. “I just want you.”

“And you’ll have me,” he—you’re not sure which—promises, leaning over to kiss you. It’s soulful passion, lust bleeding into love. Your cries are lost on his lips when you come undone beneath him, buoyant on a mellow wave.

You sense the loss before you see it.

Half-nude and gasping for breath, you stare up at the ceiling. Your bedroom is empty. All that remains of the Azuls are the animated memories imprinted on the photographs.

“I’m losing my mind…” you mutter, draping your arm over your eyes.

Please let summer pass quickly.

iii. winter - maybe all we are is fools with hearts that tried too hard. and maybe that’s just fine as long as you’re here in my arms.

Azul paces restlessly in his VIP room. It’s been months since he’s seen you, but his heart hasn’t swayed in the slightest. If anything, he’s only grown fonder in the time spent apart. Absence… What a bothersome thing.

“You’re gonna walk yourself into the floor, y’know. Your shoes’ll be all worn out by the time you’re done.”

“I’m aware,” Azul quips, uncharacteristically jittery. He turns towards Floyd. “Do I look presentable? Is anything crooked or misplaced? How about my hair?”

“You’re fine.” At Azul’s disbelieving glower, Floyd pouts. “I mean it. Shrimpy’s gonna like it either way.”

He bristles, defensive. “Who said anything about (Name)?”

“No one, but you’re thinkin’ it.”

“I… T-That’s besides the point! It doesn’t matter. She’s only here because I invited her. Common courtesy and all that.”

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

Azul frowns at the vault set into the wall behind his desk. If only he could pack all of his fears in there and lock them away for good. Then he could continue masquerading as someone fearless and confident. With winter having descended upon campus, bringing with it layers of fluffy, glittering snow, and the cultural festival having concluded successfully, Azul finds himself lost.

This is the last birthday he’ll celebrate at Night Raven College and, subsequently, the last February he’ll spend with you. He’s running out of time.

“Invitation or not, Shrimpy’ll always wish you a happy birthday. S’not like her to forget. Plus, she cares about ya.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

Azul’s tone is so sharp that Floyd raises his hands in defense. “Guess not.”

“What would you do?” He inhales a wobbly breath. “If you were in my shoes…”

Floyd scratches the back of his neck, contemplative. “Dunno. Guess I’d wait for the right moment and say somethin’ to get it outta my system.”

Azul sighs. “Jade said something similar.”

“He ain’t wrong.”

“I’m not prepared.”

“No one is.” Floyd smiles at Azul’s baffled expression. “C’mon, Azul, you can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to. S’just how it is.”

“Even so, it’s better to know all viable routes and options before diving into uncharted waters.”

“That’s just it. You can’t know. S’kinda the whole point, ain’t it?”

“I can’t do it,” he decides, the words heavy on his tongue. “I’d rather accept my future failure now than continue working towards it.”

“Like a coward.”

“Far from it! In business, that’s known as rescission. It is a completely valid method of—”

“You ever realize your feelings and business are two separate things? Not everything’s gotta be about business.”

Azul stands there, nonplussed.

Floyd makes for the door, stopping only to add, “Your fly’s unzipped, by the way.”

“You—” He scrambles to check. Much to his relief, it’s not. “Honestly… That’s not even funny.”

He smooths nonexistent wrinkles, schools his expression into something brave, and exhales slowly. I’m not going to ruin an occasion as grand as this with a half-baked confession.

Having made up his mind, he steps through the door out into the bustling lounge. Like clockwork, all eyes turn to him. He searches the crowd for you, hopeful. But before he can locate you, party poppers resound with a loud bang. Confetti trickles down like colorful rainfall, landing on his suit and getting stuck in his hair.

“Happy birthday, Azul!”

He wants to run and hide. He wants to dive into the sea and seek solace in his favorite octopus pot. He wants to bury himself in the sand and disappear.

Instead, he smiles and spreads his arms like he’s just pulled off an astounding magic trick. “Why, thank you, everyone! I’m pleased you could make it. Do enjoy yourselves to the fullest tonight.”

Cheers erupt amongst the partygoers, but they might as well be on a completely different island. Azul turns, hoping to make his rounds and escape, but Kalim intercepts him. Jamil isn’t far behind.

“Azul, happy birthday!” Kalim smiles just as Jamil catches up.

He passes two expertly wrapped gifts into Azul’s empty hands. “On behalf of Kalim and myself, thank you for the invitation.”

“Yeah, super thanks! It’s been so much fun. I hope you’ll like your gift, but if you don’t just let me know and I’ll get you something else. Whatever you want! You deserve it on your special day.”

Azul looks past him, not in the mood to entertain. “Yes, of course. It’s not a problem.”

Jamil raises a brow, but then it clicks. “(Name) wanted me to pass on her regards.”

As expected, that draws his attention. “Why’s that?”

“She wasn’t sure if she’d get to see you on your big, busy day.” Jamil eyes Azul knowingly.

Kalim nods. “We ran into her on the way here, but she said to go on without her.”

Azul doesn’t like the way they’re both looking at him—as if they’re in on some joke he’s not currently aware of.

“Well,” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “her regards are well-received.”

“You’re not going to meet her?”

“It’s my big, busy day, isn’t it? I’m afraid she’ll have to catch me at her earliest convenience.” Azul, gifts in hand, smiles. “Please do enjoy the party, you two. Thank you again for your thoughtful gifts and birthday wishes.”

On his way to the table designed for gifts, Azul spots Riddle, Silver, and Ruggie. They stand off to the side, chatting amongst themselves. He supposes, if anything, he might as well say hello. Setting the gifts down, Azul struts over.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I do hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”

“You know it. Parties at Octavinelle are always somethin’ else,” Ruggie says. Unsurprisingly, he’s done well to fix himself a plate and more. With him around Azul doesn’t have to fret over food waste.

“Your presentation at the cultural festival was very informative, if I may say so,” Riddle commends, sipping his fizzy beverage.

“As was yours.” Azul’s smile tightens. For some reason, he’s always felt the need to walk on eggshells around Riddle. And for good reason, too! Whatever Azul seems to accomplish, no matter how lofty a feat, Riddle seems to do better. “I’m sure you’ve had quite the rewarding experience yourself.”

“Indeed.”

“It’s good timing,” Silver notes, and all eyes drift towards him. Azul perks up. Timing. He needs more of that. “Your birthday came right after the festival. It’s almost like celebrating your hard work and another healthy year all in one.”

“Never thought about it that way. Guess it makes sense when you put it like that.” Ruggie grins cheekily. “Lucky you, Azul.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck. The dates just happened to align… Either way, thank you, Silver. I’m pleased you can look at it with such inspiring positivity.”

“You catch up with (Name) yet?”

“No? Am I meant to?”

“Just asking.” Ruggie shrugs. “She had me run a few errands for her yesterday. Said it was all for your sake, but when I tried to get more info outta her she told me I’d have to wait for ‘the big reveal’—whatever that is.”

Now everyone’s looking at him. Azul feels small.

“With how often I’ve heard her name tonight, I’d think she’s the one with the birthday.”

“Is she really so popular today? Odd. I haven’t had the chance to greet her,” Riddle muses.

“I thought I saw her this afternoon.” Silver furrows his brow, uncertain. “She seems busy.”

“Which is precisely why I can’t fathom the insistence that I ought to have met with her already.”

Ruggie tilts his head. “That the only reason?”

Just how many people are in on this asinine joke? More importantly, which eel is he going to have to wring out for spilling a not-so-secret secret?

Azul realizes his mask is slipping and so he repairs it expertly. If Ruggie takes notice of this, he doesn’t say anything. “It’s bad manners to show up late to a party. I’m sure one of us will agree.”

Riddle nods, but his words are surprisingly lenient. “Life happens. I suppose we can’t fault (Name) entirely.”

“She’ll make it. I’m sure she will. Don’t worry, Azul,” Silver reassures.

He’s not. He won’t. He isn’t.

“If the world was ending tomorrow,” Ruggie says, sliding into a new subject with practiced finesse, “what would you all do?”

“The end of the world…” Riddle frowns. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s a hypothetical. Anything’s possible.”

Silver hums thoughtfully. “I’d spend what time I have left with my loved ones.”

“You sure you’re not just gonna go running back to Briar Valley to protect Malleus?”

“As a guard it’s my duty, but fighting against the inevitable would be pointless.” Silver looks to the rest of them for their input. “If the world is ending and there’s nothing a guard like myself can do to prevent it, then I can only offer what’s left of my time.”

“So companionship. Okay, good to know. What about you, Riddle?”

He huffs. “I refuse to let the world end before I’ve accomplished my goals.”

“Yikes. You academic types don’t rest, do you?”

“No, no, it’s true,” Azul pipes up. “I agree. Why am I going to let the world get in the way of my plans?”

“So both of you are going to resist it until the very end?”

“You said anything can happen in a hypothetical, yes?” Riddle smirks. “In my hypothetical the world says it’ll end tomorrow, but it never does. It keeps saying so like it’s a faulty forecast. The end of the world is scheduled for next week, the week after, three weeks from now. By then, a year’s passed and the world still hasn’t ended.”

Ruggie groans. “That defeats the whole purpose of my question. You can’t give yourself more time when it’s already so limited.”

“Anything is possible if you know what you’re working with,” Azul adds, nodding alongside Riddle. “I quite like this hypothetical.”

“Leave it to the honors students to logic it out and make it more complicated than it needs to be…”

“You wouldn’t spend it with your loved ones?” Silver asks, but it appears as if the question is directed entirely at Azul. “I think I’d want to tell them the things I never got to say. Things I put off saying… Would you do that, too, Azul?”

“I…” He shuts his mouth and then opens it. “I’m not sure what I could possibly say within such a limited timeframe.”

“It doesn’t have to be complex.”

“I guess a good, old ‘love you lots’ is better than nothing,” Ruggie says.

Azul stops short. The end of the world. Time. Loss. Loved ones.

Time! He’s running out of time!

“Well, this was quite the lively discussion, but I’m afraid I’ll have to excuse myself now. There are a few more people I must meet.” Azul smiles gratefully at the three of them. They wish him another happy birthday before he finally departs, his heart in his throat.

He’s running out of time.

Logically, Azul knows the feeling doesn’t reflect his reality. It’s not as if he has to confess by the end of the school year. Logically, he has his entire life to confess. But who’s to say you’ll stay in his life after he graduates? You might be gone by the time he finally finds the right words, the right time, the right circumstance.

You can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to.

Floyd’s right. There’s no way of knowing for sure until he does it. There’s no way to know what lies in those uncharted waters until he dives in. There’s no way to know where your heart lies until he confesses.

The world isn’t going to end tomorrow, but if he doesn’t say what he needs to before graduation he’ll never have another chance. And then that world—the world contained within NRC’s boundaries—will implode and that will be that.

At that very moment, a camera flashes. He spins around to search the photographer out and—

There you are, striding through throngs of people to reach him. There you are, dressed for the occasion. There you are, wearing that pretty smile he sees in his dreams.

“Happy birthday!” You turn the photo towards him for his viewing pleasure. It’s of him, staring off into space. He looks so stone-faced with his knitted brows and pursed lips. “Sorry about showing up late. I had to add the finishing touches to your present.”

You hand it to him. The amateur wrapping job makes the gift appear more lumpy than it actually is. It’s heavy like a textbook. Shaped as such, too. Azul wonders what its contents could be. Perhaps something relating to economics? A novel in a particular genre?

“Thank you very much. I’ll take good care of both.” He tucks the picture into his breastpocket, battling the urge to tear into your gift now. He needs to know. What did you get him? What could it possibly be? “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“Even if the world was ending?”

“Uh… What?”

“Ah, never mind that. It was simply a lingering thought from a previous conversation.”

“That’s so grim! And on your birthday, no less.”

Azul waves his hand through the air. A playful smile draws his lips apart. “Can you believe Riddle said he’d make the apocalypse wait on his behalf?”

“Seriously?” You snort, eyes brightening with amusement. “Even the apocalypse gets a schedule…”

He barks out a laugh. “Insanity, isn’t it?”

“Maybe for us, but definitely not for Riddle.” You glance at him. “What about you? What does Azul Ashengrotto’s last day look like?”

He intends to answer with something prepackaged: Awash in success until the very end!

“Alone.”

“Really? No friends or family by your side?”

“Would that make it better? Perhaps being surrounded by others only intensifies the dread.”

There’s some sort of symbolism in coming into the world alone and going out the same. Azul just can’t quite phrase it eloquently.

“Maybe there’s no right answer. Maybe there’s not any comfort in it either.” You run your fingers over the edges of your Ghost Camera. “We can’t know what lies ahead until we’re there. Maybe that’s why we spend so much time theorizing.”

“Quite the insightful judgment.”

“For the record, I wouldn’t mind being your plus-one for the end of the world.”

“I’m flattered.” He grins. “I shall be yours in return.”

“No strings attached?”

“All the strings attached. So many,” he exaggerates.

“No fair!”

Silence fills in the cracks. You stand side by side, drinking in Mostro Lounge’s upbeat atmosphere. After some time, you nudge him.

“Look at us, speaking about all of these sad things. It’s your birthday, not a funeral!”

He wonders if now’s a good time. Should he lighten the mood and confess? But wouldn’t that just make it even more serious and somber? Is there ever going to be an opportune moment?

You can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to.

Surprises. Spontaneity. Luck. All things left to chance. All things Azul attempts to anticipate. He thinks back on the many plans and what-ifs he calculated and wonders if it was worth it.

“(Name), I just wanted to say—” He stops himself, his fingers curling around the gift cradled in his arms. I love you and I want you in my life. I don’t want the world to end here with you and me. I want to know what lies beyond and experience it with you—the good and the bad. Everything. “I just wanted to thank you.”

For being my friend. For being yourself. For existing in the same world as me, even if it feels like we’re doomed to be islands apart.

“What’s this? Genuine thanks? Am I going to find an anemone on my head next?”

“That can be arranged. Isn’t it tradition to grant the person of the hour one birthday favor?”

“Hah! You wish!”

I do. I really do.

The party wears on into the night. Azul repeats the same mantra as before: I have time.

When he’s in his room, gifts piled high on his desk, he sits back in his seat and carefully unwraps yours. It’s a book, leather-bound and regal. It looks expensive. While attempting to approximate its value, he reads the title spelled out with alphabet stickers: My Azul. His brow furrows. Just what are you playing at here?

Cautiously, he opens the book to the first page. Your writing winks back at him: Happy birthday, Azul! This is my gift to you. It’s a chronological journal of your school life! :D People often say it’s difficult to picture themselves through the eyes of others, so I wanted to show you what I see every time I look at you. I hope you’ll never forget just how important you are. If you ever do, open this book to remind yourself.

With love always,

(Name).

“Curious,” he mumbles, flipping the page. The layout reminds him of a scrapbook. You’ve decorated it with stickers and patterned tape, scrawled words in different colored inks. There are two photographs—each from Azul’s second year. He’d forgotten about these. That time it snowed so much the students had a snowball fight in the courtyard. That time an alchemy accident (courtesy of Grim) led to Azul speaking in cat for the rest of the day.

In the center, a small blurb reads: My Azul is terrifyingly good at making snowballs within record time, just as he’s terrifyingly good at marketing them at all the right moments. My team was totally losing. Leave it to Azul to swoop in when he knows it’s advantageous… He’s intelligent and passionate. Even when mistakes occur, he works through them effortlessly. (Although it was nice having Catzul for a day!)

He rolls his eyes at that last bit.

The next page displays photos in much the same fashion. You’ve clearly put lots of effort and thought into each arrangement. Azul feels like he’s walking through a museum with every page. Like the first, the rest of the pages that follow include photographs of himself (some with others and some with you) and a short paragraph describing your observations.

His eyes are on the verge of a typhoon as he soaks in every sugared sentence.

My Azul is strong. My Azul is silly. My Azul has the best laugh. My Azul is great at bargaining. My Azul is awkward. My Azul is clumsy (in the best ways). My Azul is resourceful. My Azul makes the best study guides (thank you!!!!). My Azul is a hero. My Azul never gives up. My Azul is a talented mage. My Azul is…

All of these things he’s never heard anyone acknowledge before—have you always seen him in this way? Is this truly what he’s like through your eyes? He finds that hard to believe, and yet there he is on the page, winking at the camera or posing in an outfit from one of the many school trips he’s attended. You’ve added little comments and doodles in the margins and corners. Azul smiles as he reads them.

Noble Bell College sure was something! I’d like to visit again one day…

Vargas Camp was exhausting! I still can’t believe we survived.

Halloween! I want to experience it in the Coral Sea one day. But maybe just for one night. An endless Halloween is too much…

The ceremonial robes are very pretty. They’re so different from the uniforms in my world.

Happy Beans Day! Azul prepares all year for this. That level of commitment is impressive!

Azul reaches the end with watery eyes. He sniffles, so enveloped in a love he’s never felt from any friend before. You care. You truly, honestly care. It’s clear in each and every page—in the words you’ve written. You care about him.

The final page has a blank space the rough shape and size of a photograph. For some reason he understands what he’s meant to do. He slides the photograph you gave him all that time ago from his phone case and pastes it to the space. And then he reads what’s written below.

My Azul keeps all of these walls up in order to protect himself. He’s sensitive and self-conscious. He likes to uphold a perfect image at all times. He likes to keep his weaknesses hidden, his cards close. But then he’s also funny. He’s sincere and gentle. He’s sweet. He’s someone I admire from all sides, good and bad. Even when he’s scheming, even when he’s acting, he’s still Azul. My camera’s captured so many of his moments, which is very apparent now that you’ve made it to the end. But I’m happy to have documented these moments because they showcase everything that makes my Azul himself.

My Azul has never looked “positively dreadful” to my camera. Even on the days where he feels like nothing, my Azul is everything to me. I will always think so.

He’s crying. He can’t help it.

Azul sits there and he sobs.

He sobs until his throat is dry, until his eyes are blotchy and red. He sobs until he can’t anymore.

Holding the book close to his chest, he wonders how he ever managed to befriend someone like you.

An angel. That’s what you are.

An angelfish.

And he’s Azul. Your Azul.

iv. spring - but, baby, i’ll be there. yeah, baby, i’ll be there. it’s been a little hard. i’ve been a little tough. but maybe all along i’m afraid, i’m afraid, i’m afraid. i’m afraid, i’m afraid, i’m afraid.

The air is sweet with the scent of blossoming flowers, thick with pollen. Azul’s chest is light, swelling with excitement. A new chapter is about to begin. In just a few hours he’ll graduate along with the rest of his peers and then it’s off to start another story. For Azul, this is just a continuation of something already so prolific.

He strolls past The Great Seven, pausing briefly to admire the Sea Witch in all of her tentacular glory.

“With this weather, it’s almost difficult to imagine they called for rain.” Jade peers up at the sun, shielding its obtrusive rays with one hand.

“They’re always gettin’ it wrong,” Floyd says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So annoying. I was hopin’ it’d rain and then they’d cancel.”

“Unlikely. There are always contingency plans put in place when it comes to an event as momentous as graduation.”

“Bleh. Lame. I wanna skip. I hate bein’ in those stuffy clothes, packed in close like a sardine.”

“If you’re absent, you won’t receive your diploma.”

“What a scam.”

Jade simply smiles. Ironic.

Azul turns around to look at them. “Four years… Gone in a blink. Will either of you miss it?”

“It was certainly enjoyable. I admit there are some aspects I’ll miss quite fiercely.”

“Guess it’ll be a bummer not seein’ everyone all the time. I’m gonna miss playing with Baby Seal and Shrimpy.”

“I’ll miss them, too.” Azul sighs. “(Name) especially…”

“You still haven’t told her?” Floyd raises a brow. “You’re gonna leave without sayin’ a word?”

“That does seem to be the plan,” Jade answers.

“I… I’ve thought it over.” He clears his throat. No time for waterworks. He needs to be in top shape if he’s to deliver the opening speech as Salutatorian. Riddle took first place, which wasn’t a shock to anyone. He always did say he’d make Valedictorian no matter what. Azul had been keen to fight him for it, even if it became clear he’d never surpass him. Second place is irksome, but it has its merits. Although he isn’t going to settle with just that! He’ll get first place one of these days. “We’re better off friends.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Is that enough?”

“Is what enough?”

“Her friendship.”

“It’ll have to be.” Azul’s gaze glazes over.

He’s run out of time, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe that was meant to be.

“Well, let’s not dwell on it any further!” He claps his hands and turns swiftly on his heel. “There’s still work to be done.”

Jade and Floyd exchange furtive glances. They know as well as he does that he’s lying.

But maybe that was also meant to be.

— — —

Crowley tasked you with snapping photos for NRC’s yearbook. “Because I am a paragon of magnanimity,” he said, “I am entrusting this very important task to you once more. Take lots of pictures! Don’t miss a single moment!”

You do just that, photographing the graduates as they wait in a room behind the stage, chattering eagerly amongst themselves. You raise your camera to document Azul when he stands at the podium to give his salutation speech. You do the same for Riddle when it’s his turn. The ceremony is grand, ballooning with emotion. You look on with a cheek-splitting smile, proud of every student who crosses the stage. It’s bittersweet. The friends you made when you were enrolled as a first year are now moving on in life.

Time flies. What a whirlwind year it’s been.

When it’s Azul’s turn and he goes down the line to shake the hands of his professors and Crowley, you wave at him from your place in the audience. He meets your eyes from where he stands, and he smiles.

Your camera catches that moment in perfect permanence.

By the end of it all, your face hurts from smiling, your throat sore from cheering, your hands raw from clapping. Grim grumbles at you to knock it off with the sun shower, your tears dampening his fur. You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “I’m happy for them. It’s a good day.”

He forces his head under your palm, allowing you to pet him and cry through it in peace. He doesn’t say anything. You don’t need him to.

While the graduates meet up with their family and friends, you make your rounds. Kalim introduces you to his parents and siblings—all thirty-something of them. You’re in a daze by the time introductions are finished, and Jamil leans over to whisper, “No need to commit everyone to memory.”

“Have you talked to Azul yet?” Kalim asks after everything has settled down.

You shake your head. “Why? What’s up?”

“Just wanted to ask. I know the Headmage wants you to take lots of pictures.”

“We shouldn’t keep you any longer than we already have,” Jamil adds with a curt nod.

You smile. “Congrats, both of you. Good luck.”

“We gotta keep in touch. Promise me you’ll call whenever you can. You’re always welcome to visit, too! Oh, I’ll go check with my parents now! I’m sure they’ll say yes!” Kalim bounds off in their direction.

“Just let me know well in advance. That way I can plan for proper accommodations,” Jamil says, following Kalim with sharp eyes.

“I’ll do that.” You turn to leave and then stop. “I hope you get your vacation one day, Jamil.”

He stares at you, mystified, before a gentle smile softens on his face. “One day,” he echoes. “I hope you’ll find your way home.”

“One day.”

The two of you share a final look before going your separate ways.

Surrounded in such an energetic environment, talking to and meeting families, you find yourself longing for your loved ones. So much time has passed. You wonder how they’re doing. Are they well? Are they worried?

“Aah, it’s Shrimpy!” Floyd crashes into you with so much force you nearly topple. He steadies you with a giggle. “Where’s Baby Seal?”

“Left to gorge on refreshments. Hey, since you’re here, can I get your picture?”

“Course you can.”

Detaching himself, he poses for you. You take a few photos, mirroring his good mood.

“Are your parents around?”

“Mhm!”

“Seriously? They came?”

“Course they did.”

“Did they take transformation potions?”

Floyd nods. “Pops does land business sometimes, so he’s used to it. Mama doesn’t leave home much. She’s real bad at walking on her feet.”

“Ah, got it.”

Floyd grins down at you. “You wanna meet ’em?”

“Maybe later… I’ve gotta keep taking photos.”

“I gotcha. Make sure to snap a few of Azul.”

“Right! Speaking of him, where is he? I’ve spoken to everyone but him.”

Floyd peers out across a sea of faces, scanning each one like a predator sizing up his next meal. “He’s avoidin’ ya.”

“What? Why?”

“Why don’tcha ask him when you see him? Bet he’ll have a fun answer for ya.”

You would, if only you could find him. As the afternoon wears on, you begin to lose hope. If he’s truly hiding from you, he’s doing a great job of it. After what feels like hours of walking in aimless circles, you take pause to consider the situation. If you were Azul and you wanted to hide away for a little while, where would you go?

To someplace familiar. To someplace comfortable. To someplace quiet.

He’s pacing in front of Ramshackle when you arrive. You open the gate and step through, taking each step one at a time. Once you’re within a close enough proximity, you make your presence known.

“Azul?”

He startles and whips around. As soon as he sees you, he lurches forward, intending to leave.

You block his path. “Hey, wait! What gives? I’ve been looking all over for you. Floyd told me you’re avoiding me.”

“Floyd doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“But I’m sure you do. So what’s up?”

“It’s…nothing. I merely wanted to tour campus one last time.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say anything? I would’ve come with you!” You attempt to elbow him, but he side-steps you. “Uh, right…”

“Ah, sorry. I… Admittedly, there’s quite a lot on my mind.”

“I get it. Congrats, by the way. Your speech was really good.”

“I’m pleased you think so.”

This…isn’t Azul, you realize, a frown flickering on your face. At least not the Azul I usually see.

“I got to meet all of Kalim’s siblings.”

“Did you? All of them?”

“Every. Single. One. His family’s huge!”

An uncomfortable silence festers between the two of you. You glance at your camera and then at Azul.

“Can you believe that Crowley? He wanted me to take all of these pictures, but there were dozens of professionals who did it much better than me! What was even the point?”

“Terrible, isn’t it? A job as good as the one you do deserves proper payment.”

“Exactly! My services aren’t free.”

Azul smiles, a wistful gloss to his gaze. You can see the cogs turning behind his eyes—can see the calculation as it comes to fruition.

“You can cry. I won’t judge.”

“I’m not going to.”

“It’s fine. It’s normal, Azul.”

He inhales a deep breath, holds it for three seconds, and then releases. When he looks at you next, his expression is hard and riddled with subdued anxiety. A zephyr blows between you, rustling the leaves in the trees, raking through the grass, dragging wispy fingers through your clothes and hair. The quiet expands and stretches wide.

Azul opens his mouth, shuts it, and sighs. A forlorn resignation flits over his countenance.

“I—” he swallows hard and then it just bursts free, the admission he’s kept secret for so long— “I love you.”

Another breeze combs through the premises. Your gasp is swept away with it.

“I’ve loved you for two years. And I… I wanted to tell you so many times in the past, but I never could. I was scared and I ran away. I still am! The truth is that I’m afraid of losing you. I’m afraid of messing up in front of you and looking like a fool. I’m afraid of showing you the parts of myself I hate most. I’m even afraid of that phrase—of saying it because it terrifies me to think, in some distant world, it might be reciprocated. But I have to say it, and I want you to know. Even if you don’t feel the same, I have to tell you.”

You gape at him, utterly speechless. The longer you do so, the more flustered he becomes.

“Y-You’re free to think it’s gross or weird. I understand I’m not the most ideal candidate, but I…” He wrings his hands, exhaling shakily. “I think you’re everything. My whole world.”

There are so many things you want to say. So, so many. But they’re all jumbled, carried along like flowers floating down a stream in spring. You close the gap, taking his hands in yours, and you kiss him.

Azul startles, squeaking against your lips. It takes a minute for him to find his rhythm, but soon he’s wilting against you, his body relaxed. You taste saliva and salt—tears. When you pull back, he’s crying.

“I think you’re the most ideal candidate. I’ve always thought so.” You cradle his cheek in a warm hand.

A sob trembles through him. “I never thought—you’re just so… I couldn’t have imagined…”

“That I’d like you?”

“Yes!”

“Why?” “Because…”

“I’ve always liked you, Azul. I’d never lie about that. Your birthday gift—those are my honest opinions.”

“Every one of them?”

“Each and every one.”

He sniffles weakly, drying his eyes with the heel of his palm.

Instinctively, you reach for your camera. And then you hesitate. You’ve always stood behind the protective lens of your trusty Ghost Camera, assuming the role of photographer in order to remain in his orbit. But now you’d like to try putting the camera aside and documenting Azul’s moments with your own two eyes.

He loves me.

You just manage to shut the front door before you’re pulling him flush against you. He presses you up against the wall in the foyer, a knee slotting between your legs. You melt in mutual merriment, grabbing at every part of him. Your uniform blouse is ripped open in a hurry. You try to handle his graduation robes with caution, appreciating expensive embroidery, but vehemence gets the better of you. It’s a wild rush. Hot and panting, you’re shuddering in carnal delight, every nerve alight. When he presses up against you next, half-dressed and hazy with an addictive adoration, you can feel the result of your exploratory touches straining for release.

“Upstairs,” you mumble against his mouth, sweating out of your skin.

You fall into bed as one, tangled around each other. Azul trails kisses up the expanse of your stomach, working you open on skillful fingers. You shiver beneath him, your heart pounding in your ribs.

“I love you.” A kiss to your belly.

“I love you.” A kiss to the valley of your breasts.

“I love you.” A kiss to your lips.

You love him just as intensely. 

He drags his fingers out next, admiring the slick coating them like it’s a valuable substance. You giggle, dizzy with delirium.

“Can I call you mine?”

You run your hands up and down his arms. “I’d like that.”

“Your boyfriend,” he murmurs, astonished. “I’m your boyfriend…”

“Mhm…” You sit up in bed and climb into his lap. Slowly, inch by inch, you lower yourself. He sucks in a breath through grit teeth. “And I’m—mmh—I’m your girlfriend.”

Azul whines into your mouth. His arms wrap around you to keep you firmly pinned to his body, and he bucks his hips up to meet you the rest of the way. Filled in such a way, connected so intimately, you breathe a satisfied sigh. You dig your nails into his shoulders. Every muscle slackens. It’s bliss, pure and perfect. The both of you mold to one another like sea meeting shore.

You grind down, chasing a mounting climax. “You’re the best—perfect. So perfect. Oh, I love you, Azul. I love you so much. I’ve always wanted to say it.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “You have no idea how fervently I’ve yearned for this—for you.”

You can’t possibly begin to imagine, but you can definitely relate. Weeks of silent pining, of hoping something might happen and you’d be able to confess without fear. Those days are behind you. Now you can know love in his arms and it isn’t so uncertain.

You lose yourselves in the sensations of sweet, soulful sex. He’s gentle like a spring breeze, dedicated like a devotee at your altar. You’re much the same, your moans just as plentiful. Just as loud. You’re wrapped in wonder when you look into his eyes and find the same amount of love reflected back.

I’m so happy I met you.

When he cums, he digs his fingers into your hips to drag you down and bury himself deeper inside. You unravel shortly after, your orgasm coaxed out by a few attentive massages to your clit. Your bodies, sticky and sweaty, stay connected even after you’ve come down from the clouds.

“Had I known, I would’ve said something sooner.” After catching his breath, Azul rests his head in the crook of your neck. “I regret it.”

“I don’t. Things happen when they happen.” You run your fingers through the tangled, silvery strands of his hair. It’s soft just like him. He leans into your touch and hums appreciatively. “I’m glad it happened when it did.”

“I’m glad I could say it. It would’ve eaten me alive if I’d left without telling you.”

“And are you still afraid?”

Azul places his hand over yours. “No, not anymore. The world ahead looks much clearer now.”

“Am I in it?”

He laughs. “More than that.”

“Oh?”

“You are my world.”

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Four

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : PG

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing of note this chapter, except a moment of sickeningly awkward cuteness (I'm so sorry). All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 4.8k

A/N : The aftermath of last chapter. Tumblr is still only letting me tag five people at a time, so tags will be in comments again.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

Chapter Four

You woke to find yourself on the sofa, covered with a blanket, alone and with only a vague recollection of what had happened the night before. Your hand had been bandaged and you felt worse than ever. The room was spinning, your head pounding, and finally you understood why; blood loss. You’d drawn blood and, then, you’d let him drink from you; it had been too much and you’d lost consciousness.

It took a moment more for you to remember everything else that had happened; how he’d pressed his body to yours, how he’d kissed you, and how you’d - oh god, your boss had made you come. 

Panic washed over you for a second, your hand reaching between your thighs, terrified that something had happened after you passed out. No. You breathed a sigh of relief and found yourself feeling silly for even thinking that Billy would do something like that. From what little you knew of him, you didn’t think he was capable of that.

Despite being completely alone, you pulled the blanket up, hiding your face and your embarrassment. You closed your eyes and all you could see was his face, blood covered lips and dark eyes filled with hunger - and not just hunger for blood.

You remembered his lips on your neck, the scrape of teeth - fangs - as you came. Gingerly, you ran your fingers over your skin, searching for puncture marks but, thankfully, found none. 

As much as you wanted to move, to go back to your bedroom, you were too exhausted and, soon enough, you ended up falling asleep again. 

Hours must have passed and you certainly felt better for it when you finally opened your eyes again.

At some point a bottle of water and a note had been left on the floor next to the sofa, though you couldn’t say if they’d been there the whole time or if he’d placed them there after you’d fallen asleep again.

You decided to start with the water, taking a slow drink to steady your nerves before reading the note. It was impossible to stop your mind from going into overdrive, from thinking of all the things that the note might contain; was he going to fire you for your unprofessional behaviour, was he angry that you broke the rule about being in the penthouse after 9pm?

Your fingers shook as you unfolded the note and started to read.

I want to apologise for my behaviour last night, it was unacceptable and I understand if you want to terminate your contract because of it. If you want to leave, please let Lissa know and she will retrieve your things from storage. If you choose to stay, you will have the next couple of days to yourself to recover. I’ll be gone until Friday and won’t need blood before then. 

Whatever you decide, I’ve arranged for my friend Karen to visit you tomorrow and, if you still want to, you have permission to go out with her for the day. If you want to leave, she will help you with whatever you need to do so. Please take care of yourself.

Billy.

You read and reread the note, trying to figure out what he wanted from you. The note felt so detached, almost like he was assuming you’d want to leave. 

(Did you? Was that really what you wanted?)

You read it again before sitting up, noticing the dried blood on your pyjamas. Common sense told you to leave, to get your things and get out of there as quickly as possible. Last night had been stupid and reckless, you’d done the one thing you’d promised yourself you’d never do; you’d let a vampire drink directly from you.

Okay, so he hadn’t bitten you, but what was to say that next time he wouldn’t? But, by the same logic, what was to say that he would? He could have done anything he wanted to you, but he hadn’t. And what he had done you’d allowed. No, you’d been an active participant. You’d enjoyed it. (Who were you trying to kid? You’d wanted it.) He’d told you to stay away and you’d ignored him. It had been your choice to feed him, your choice to let him kiss you, even though you knew he wasn’t in his right mind.

Embarrassed as you were, some part of you had wanted what had happened last night and, now, you had to live with the consequences. 

You read the note one last time. Please take care of yourself, you weren’t sure if those five little words made it better or worse. He always seemed so concerned with how fragile you were, and you still weren’t sure if it came from a place of caring or of liability, but it felt like he was staying away from his own home because of you.

No, you quickly decided, you didn’t want to leave. You couldn’t. You needed the money and last night was as much your fault as Billy’s. 

Staying was still far better than the alternative.

Eventually you managed to get up and move to your rooms, grabbing yourself a bowl of cereal on the way to bed. You put the TV on, but more for background noise than anything and spent the rest of the day dozing, only getting up to get more cereal.

Instead of thinking about what had happened, you started thinking about tomorrow, about finally being able to go outside and see some of New York City. What would his friend Karen be like? Would she be able to tell you anything about Billy? Finally, you had something to look forward to, even though you were worried that Billy had only arranged it out of guilt.

You felt much better the next day when you woke up, in part because you were excited to finally go outside and see some of the city but, also, because you were looking forward to meeting Billy’s friend and having someone new to talk to. The weather outside looked cold and wet, so you dressed accordingly, pulling a lovely blue jacket and pair of boots from your wardrobe to put on over your jeans and blouse.

Just before midday, you heard someone calling your name, and you quickly went out to greet them. She had stunning red hair and skin so pale you might have thought she was a vampire if you weren’t about to go out in daylight with her. It was enough to make you pause, to make you wonder how she knew Billy, an odd twinge of jealousy filling you for a second.

“Hi, I’m Karen,” she smiled and held out her hand. You took it and introduced yourself properly, even though she already knew your name. “Oh, what happened to your hand?”

Your cheeks warmed a fraction, looking down at your bandaged hand for a second. “I caught it taking some cookies out of the oven.”

“Ouch,” Karen winced sympathetically, seeming to buy the lie. “Billy said you wanted to go for coffee?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” you answered, feeling overcome with relief the moment you stepped into the elevator.

“You got any place in mind?” Karen asked, subtly looking you up and down like she was trying to get a measure of you.

“I - I don’t know. This is my first time in New York, I don’t really know where anything is.” 

“And this is the first time he’s let you outside,” she stated.

For a second you looked at her, confused, wondering how much she knew, how much she was supposed to know. Lissa had told you that Billy valued his privacy and you weren’t sure what you were supposed to say in this situation. The uncomfortable look on your face must have been enough to tip Karen off that you didn’t know how to answer.

“He has his reasons,” she started again as the elevator arrived on the ground floor and you stepped out, “I know it probably doesn’t seem like it right now, but he is trying to look out for you.”

“How do you know him?” You asked.

“I met him through his best friend when we started dating.”

“Oh. And is he...?” You left the question unfinished, not sure if it was polite to ask.

“A vampire?” She smiled the sort of carefree smile that you couldn’t help feel envious of, like she didn’t care what anyone thought of her. “Yes, he is.”

Stepping out onto the street, you couldn’t help but stop for a moment, turning your eyes skyward and taking a deep breath. It took a second for your eyes to get used to natural light and, all the while, Karen stood watching you.

“How long has it been?” Her question pulled you back to the moment.

“A couple of weeks, I think?” You tried to remember, but you’d lost track of how long exactly it had been after the first week. However long it had been, it wasn’t really long enough to warrant that sort of reaction from you. Your cheeks warmed a fraction as you looked at Karen. “I’m not really used to being cooped up indoors all the time.”

Karen just nodded, waiting a beat before starting to walk. You fell into step beside her, your eyes taking in the sights of New York. You had no idea where she was leading you but you didn’t care. You were finally seeing the city and you couldn’t be happier.

Less than five minutes later, you found yourself in a little coffee shop, looking at the pastries and cakes on offer before you realised something.

“I don’t have any money,” you told Karen, your cheeks turning red, an uncomfortable sense of shame filling you.

It hadn’t even crossed your mind; you always had a purse with you or your phone, but Lissa had taken them and you weren’t going to be paid until you’d completed a year in Mr Russo’s service. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Karen replied, starting to fumble around with her purse before pulling out a black credit card and handing it to you. “Billy asked me to give you this for anything you need.”

The card had your name embossed on it but there was nothing else to indicate - well, anything at all. You didn’t know if it was a prepaid card or if it had a limit, and there was no way of telling where the money would be coming from.

“The PIN is your birth year,” Karen continued, though she seemed more interested in eyeing the food selection than she was in you.

After a moment more, you decided that you’d ask Billy about it when you next saw him (assuming you ever saw him again, after the other night). You choose modestly, not wanting to spend too much on a card that wasn’t yours and that you couldn’t control. For all you knew, you were spending Billy’s money and the last thing you wanted to do was take advantage of this gesture of kindness.

And that was something Karen did notice, watching you from the corner of her eye with a somewhat bemused expression on her face as you calculated just how much money you’d be spending getting a drink, a panini, and a muffin. Then, you held your breath as you used the card for the first time, preparing yourself for the embarrassment of it being declined.  It wasn’t. You breathed a sigh of relief before following Karen to a little table by the window.

Your eyes were fixed on the street outside, watching as it started to rain, but you could feel her eyes on you.

“You’re not like the others,” she finally broke the silence. 

“What were they like?” You asked with a healthy degree of caution, still not knowing what the rules were and what you were allowed to talk to her about. “Lissa said that they disappointed Mr Russo?”

She sat back, biting her lip and trying to suppress a smile. You couldn’t tell what part of it she found amusing and you didn’t want to ask.

“Disappointed is one word for it, I guess?” she took a breath, obviously composing her thoughts before continuing. “Did you know that you’re the first one he didn’t interview himself?”

You shook your head; you’d applied for the job by email and had spoken to someone (you now assumed to be Lissa) very briefly over the phone. In retrospect, it seemed strange given the amount of money that was at stake.

Unless he didn’t bother because he assumed you’d disappoint him like the others…

“The problem with Billy - with the whole job, really - is that it usually attracts a... certain sort of person. Most of them have only been interested in the money and spending a year living in the lap of luxury. The others are...” she fell silent, smiling as the barista brought your toasted paninis over and, when you were alone again, she looked like she really didn’t want to finish her thought.

“The others are...?” You prompted cautiously.

“They’re the sort of people who want more from the arrangement than Billy is prepared to give,” she answered and, when you obviously didn’t catch her meaning, she continued. “Billy is a very rich man and he’s going to live forever. A lot of people find both of those prospects very attractive.”

“They want him to...” you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, a lump stuck in your throat at the thought. Karen nodded. “And you’ve done this before? Gone for coffee with... someone like me?”

“Not quite like this, but I did spend time with some of them.”

“What do you mean not quite like this?” 

She paused half way through lifting her cup to her lips and, for a second you could have sworn she winced. Still, she took a drink and didn’t try to answer until her mug was back on the table again.

“His rules weren’t always so strict.” Her head shook. “Look, it’s not my place to tell you any of this. Billy has his reasons for why things are the way they are; it’s to protect you as much as it’s to protect him.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions but no words came out. Ultimately, it didn’t matter how or why the rules had changed because you’d agreed to them. You’d agreed to the job and you needed the money, so the last thing you wanted to do was get Karen in trouble and maybe jeopardise future outings like this.

“Thank you,” you told her, then quickly clarified; “for telling me.”

Karen smiled, considering her words for a moment. “Billy is a friend, but trust me when I tell you that if I didn’t believe what he was doing was necessary, I would have told him so.”

“It’s okay,” you conceded quietly, shrugging, “I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to do this.”

You turned your attention to your food, cautiously picking up your panini, trying not to burn yourself on the molten cheese that was leaking out the side as you took a bite. It was heavenly; toasted just the right amount, the cheese was sharp, and the tuna -

You dropped the panini back to your plate, horrified with yourself.

No. No-no-no. How could you have been so stupid? You felt your chest tighten a fraction, your stomach tying itself in knots. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Karen asked, obviously concerned.

“Tuna,” you stated, your voice breaking. “I’m not supposed to eat tuna. It’s on the list. He’s going to -”

“Whoa-whoa, back up. What list?”

“The list of things I’m not supposed to eat,” you tried to explain, unable to conceal the panic from your voice. 

This wasn’t you - you didn’t break rules, you always tried to stay in line - and, now, you’d messed up. All you could think was that you were going to lose the job, that Billy would kick you out and you’d have no choice but to go home. You were going to end up back where you started all because of a stupid toasted sandwich.

“Hey-hey, calm down, it’s okay,” Karen tried to settle you.

“You don’t understand I can’t lose this job.”

“You won’t,” she reached across the table, taking your hand in hers, “if Billy finds out, we’ll tell him it was my fault, okay?”

“But -”

“No, buts. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”

You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to explain the panic that was clawing beneath your ribs. You’d been raised to be good, to be decent, to follow the rules and not cause problems. You’d been raised to fear consequences and, even though you were far from home, that mindset was difficult to escape.

“Here,” she offered, sliding her plate towards you, “we can swap, I got ham and cheese. You only had one bite, Billy will never know.”

It was like she understood, like she could tell just by looking at you how desperately you needed to keep the job - not just because of the money on offer but because you had nothing and nowhere else to go without it. 

Taking the offered plate, you ate slowly, quietly. From time to time, you’d catch her looking at you, concern on her face. Conversation that followed was stilted and awkward as you picked apart your muffin until it was gone. And, once your mug was empty, the outing was over.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay longer,” she apologised as you started back towards the penthouse. “I’ll make more time next week; we can spend a whole afternoon doing whatever you want. We’ll make it a regular thing, every Thursday.”

Agreeing, you thanked her as she rode the elevator back up to the penthouse with you, making sure you were okay before leaving you with the promise of seeing you again next week.

It was strange to know that you were completely alone in the penthouse for another day but, after the incident with the panini, you were very deliberate when it came to the rules. You sat on the sofa until just before 9pm, watching the cloudy sky slowly darken and give way to night before returning to your rooms, even though no one would have known if you’d stayed in the penthouse longer.

That night you laid in bed thinking about Billy - or, rather, you thought about what it was going to be like to see him again after what had happened. Was he as embarrassed by it all as you were? Did Billy Russo even get embarrassed? Maybe it would be better for the both of you if you just pretended that it never happened.

Friday passed in a blur. Every time you heard a noise in the penthouse, you would creep to the door to your quarters and press your ear against it, trying to hear if he was back. Of course, some part of you understood how ridiculous you were being; Billy was so light on his feet that you’d never be able to hear him. But, still, time and time again you found yourself pressed against the door.

After drawing blood, you moved across the penthouse as quietly as you could, looking for signs that he was home and finding none. Once you reached the kitchen and placed the blood in the fridge, you allowed yourself a sigh of relief before turning and -

There he was.

Standing between you and your rooms, a look on his face that you couldn’t decipher.

For a second your lips parted, wanting to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. Your cheeks started to warm and the silence dragged on for at least ten seconds. Billy looked uncertain, so uncomfortable in your presence. His normally calm and collected demeanour was gone, replaced with a look that made you feel unsettled, guilty even. More than that, you couldn’t help but notice how tired he looked - you hadn’t even realised that vampires could look tired before now.

“You decided to stay,” part-statement, part-question. All you could do was nod, letting your feet carry you a couple of steps closer to him. “I’m glad. I didn’t think you would.”

“I want to stay,” you offered quietly, breathing slowly, trying to keep your heart from racing.

“I’m sorry for the other night. I never wanted you to see me like that,” he said, standing a little taller and seeming to regain some of his usual composure. “It won’t happen again. I never wanted to make you feel unsafe here.”

“You didn’t,” your voice still small as you struggled to find a way to describe any of the things you were feeling right now. “You told me to stay away and I didn’t listen, and I didn’t ask you to stop when I should have. But I just...” you trailed off, not sure how to say the next part.

“What?” He prompted softly, his attention entirely fixed on you.

“I need to make it clear; just because you’re paying me, it doesn’t mean you’re entitled to -”

“I would never think that I’m entitled to fuck you just because I’m paying you,” he interrupted, just as offended by the notion as you were. “Anything that happens here only happens with your consent.”

Did that mean it could happen again if you wanted it to? You didn’t dare voice the question, instead you just nodded.

His gaze dropped awkwardly and yours followed it, noticing something tightly gripped in his hands. A stuffed toy. Before you could ask, Billy had cleared the distance between you, holding out the toy to you. After a moment of confused hesitation, you took it, frowning first at the toy then him.

“When you said you were lonely, you mentioned a dog and I -” he let out an uncomfortable huff of laughter, “- well, obviously I can’t let you have a real dog here but I thought - I hoped - maybe this would help.”

Your gaze dropped to the stuffed toy in your hand, shaped like a beagle with floppy ears and a little pink tongue lolling out of its mouth. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had bought you such a thoughtful gift and that sad thought caused your heart to give an uncomfortable squeeze. When you looked back to Billy, you started to realise that there was far more to the man than you’d originally believed.

“I didn’t know what kind of dog you had, so I just...” he continued, trailing off when he saw your smile.

“Thank you. It’s perfect.” 

It was Billy’s turn to simply nod, seeming just as lost for words as you were for a few seconds before deciding to let you go about your evening. “Anyway, I won’t keep you.”

The conversation was over giving you the perfect opportunity to walk away and recover from whatever this had been, only -

“I broke one of the rules,” you blurted out without thinking, not wanting to carry the weight of it after Billy’s gesture.

A flicker of discomfort crossed his face but was quickly reined in. “Which one?” 

“I ate tuna in a panini when I went out with Karen,” you stated, sounding so ashamed anyone would have thought you were confessing to murder. “It was just one bite. I forgot tuna was on the list. I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, Mr Russo. I promise.”

You didn’t expect the laugh that followed, or the way the tension seemed to leave his body. His hand found your shoulder, offering a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.”

“But the list -”

“Tuna is on the list because I don’t like it. If I’d been here and had your blood, it would have been unpleasant for me, but I wasn’t here so I’m willing to forgive it.”

(Well, that explained why certain foods were on the list. They were things he didn’t like - did that mean he could tell what you’d been eating from your blood?)

“I spent twenty dollars,” you admitted a moment later, like you were confessing all of your sins to him. (Or maybe you just wanted to keep the conversation going a little while longer, keep his hand on you a little longer.)

His hand moved to your neck, his cold touch on your skin causing your heart to beat a little faster. And you knew he could tell, you knew he could hear the effect he was having on you. 

“You spent eighteen dollars fifty-five,” he told you, amused by whatever this was. “I don’t think you’re going to bankrupt me.” When his little joke didn’t manage to draw a smile from you, Billy sighed. “I’m the one that should be sorry. I haven’t really explained things to you, I guess because I didn’t think you’d even make it past the second week.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m asking a lot of you. Maybe too much,” he told you as his thumb began to softly brush against your jaw. “The truth is, I need things to be like this. I need to have control. I need to stay in control because when I don’t...”

He didn’t have to say it, you could fill in the blanks. The other night was what happened when Billy lost control, it was what happened when the monster overwhelmed the man.

“But,” he continued, “I know it’s not easy to be the person who’s being controlled. I know you don’t really want this.”

“No, I -” the words started to slip out before you could stop them. Billy looked at you expectantly, silently demanding you finish the thought. Your cheeks felt like they were burning, but he was giving you honesty and you needed to do the same in return. “I’m used to rules. I like knowing what’s expected of me. It doesn’t make things easier for me, but I like knowing where I stand. So, I guess I don’t mind following your rules.”

It was clear he had questions but clearer still that he didn’t want to ask them. You were grateful for that.

“You always have a choice here, little hummingbird, even if I sometimes make it seem like you don’t,” he told you, leaving his hand to linger on your neck a moment more before it dropped to his side. Somehow, you felt colder for the loss of his icy touch. He was quiet a moment before; “do you like Thai food?”

You nodded despite the very sudden change in conversation. “I love it.”

“I’ve got nothing planned this weekend, perhaps we could spend some time getting to know each other a little better? Maybe that would make things a little easier,” he offered, a small smile on his lips. “We could order from a great Thai place I know and I could try to answer some of your questions about things.”

Your fingers tightened on the stuffed toy as you smiled. Finally, you felt like you were getting somewhere, like this could become something bearable, something good.

“I’d like that,” you answered.

“Okay then, tomorrow evening at sunset,” he nodded and looked ready to leave.

Nodding in return, you finally stated to move back towards your rooms. Your hand was on the handle when he spoke again.

“Why did you help me?” You could tell from his tone that he didn’t want to ask the question, but the curiosity had gotten the better of him. “You didn’t have to help, you could’ve stayed in your rooms. Instead you put yourself in danger to help me. Why?”

You turned back, despite not knowing how to answer him. And, for a few seconds you found yourself looking at him. There was something there, something about his expression, something that made you wonder if anyone else had ever helped him before. It seemed like such an alien concept to him that anyone might go out of their way to do anything for him.

“You looked like you were in pain,” you shrugged, “and, even though I haven’t always felt completely comfortable here, I think you’ve always tried to be kind... in your own way. So, I couldn’t just stand by when I thought there was a chance I could help you.”

Billy swallowed, like he was trying to rid himself of a lump in his throat. Then he nodded, clearly lost for words. That look you’d noticed only seconds before seemed to intensify and Billy didn’t seem to know what to do with it.

“Thank you,” he finally managed, before giving you one last look and turning away. 

For a second you allowed yourself to watch him as he made his way towards the kitchen but you knew you couldn’t linger, not when the pounding of your heart gave you away. Slipping through the door, you quickly shut it behind you, pressing your back against it for a moment. Looking down, you realised that you had the stuffed dog clutched to your chest. It was silly, such a ridiculous gift, but the fact that he’d listened to you, the fact that he’d thought about what you’d told him, it meant so much.

End Note : Billy was having a Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen version) moment when he handed over the stuffed toy. Place your bets on what she’s going to to call it. I know this one was slow and a little cutesy but I wanted to build some more tension before things start to ramp up next chapter.

As always thank you so much for reading! And thank you so much to all my new followers (I did not expect 200+ followers when I started posting on tumblr). I hope you all have awesome weekends!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt. (Note: Tumblr is currently being stupid and only letting me tag five people at a time, so I'll be tagging people in the comments. Sorry if you get tagged twice!!)

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock @snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad @vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17 @sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim @countryday @weepingwitchofthewest

[numberonetacostan]

(What I have for) Feral Taco :3

Hello my friends!!!^^ Here is the long post to go along with the drawing of feral taco I made the other day because people showed interest!!! :D It made me so very happy. I apologize if this au isn’t as neatly put together as some others I’ve posted, I straight up did not expect to be typing this out. I thought this would be an au that stayed in Loomy’s daydreams but then people asked so here we are!!! :) Please enjoy!!!!

So Taco’s mental health is absolutely awful after Mic leaves her. Just terrible. So bad. And instead of teleporting away with Mepad’s comatose body after Mic quits the game, she just… gives up. Leaves him there, and walks back to her home in the woods, which I like to think of as being on the other side of the island. Judging from the map we see Mepad display in episode 14, the forest stretches out nearly to the other end of the island, yeah? I tend to think Taco only goes to the edge and area closer to the hotel to meddle in the competition and talk to Mic. As for her actual living space, it’s much easier to stay hidden deep in the forest on the side of the island that everyone else doesn’t live on. So that’s where Taco is. Alone. For quite some time. Season 3 happens, season 2 ends (Without the disaster that the finale was, solely because it doesn’t work well with the timeline of this au. So, uh, Cobs tripped and fell off of MeCloud and caught on fire and died. Suitcase decimated Knife in uh. Jump rope contest. Or something. Good with everyone? Good.), and the show has been on hiatus for a good few months, as a nice break for the cast before season 4 starts. Other than Taco, who has just been alone and getting worse for quite some time now. 

SO! The bulk of this would start around the time that said hiatus will be ending, all the contestants are at the hotel, including those who normally live on Paradise Island, because Mephone is getting ready to announce the next season, including who’s going to be participating! (They still don’t know he made them. This is about TACO. We’re not doing finale stuff here.) Most importantly, out of all of said contestants, are Bot and Goo. This is a Loomy AU you thought there’d be no propaganda in here? No. Taco will form relationships with whoever I please. So, Bot and Goo being Bot and Goo, go and play in the woods!! They’re exploring!! Having fun!! Playing tag, hide and seek, and enjoying nature!!! They stay relatively close to the hotel, for safety purposes, but end up going just a tad too deep into the woods as it’s getting dark. And it’s not called the Perilous Woods for no reason, hm? There’s some real Perilous stuff in there!! It could be a bear, a big snake, a wolf, a dragon, whatever you please since we lack a real world would-be location of Inanimate Island and thus we don’t really know what sort of wildlife would be there. I mean, I have a theory or two, but that’s not the point. Anyways, Bot grabs Goo and bolts. Neither of them are particularly edible, but they can’t be recovered by MeLife and would rather neither of them get maimed, yeah?

They get away from the danger, yay! But now they’re quite lost. Not yay. And now it’s become evening, so it’s dark. Bot does glow in the dark, at least their plush does, but we’ve seen how dark that forest can be during the day in episode 9. They’re nowhere near bright enough to see more than a foot or so ahead of them. And with how dense it is, it wouldn’t be easy for them to extend their legs and look back towards where the hotel is. So, to reiterate, they’re very lost in the thick, dark forest. Not good. Spooky noises all around, two very scared little guys. Especially when they hear rustling in the bushes, coming closer. And closer. And closer. And out from the darkness, they see a single eye staring at them, and scream!!! Until a flashlight is clicked on, and a very confused and unimpressed Taco is looking at them. She’s significantly more crack than she was the last time anyone (Mic) saw her, with one of her eyes whited-out and unseeing, but it’s definitely her!! And she’s holding some fishies skewered on a stick!!! Remember the fishies they’ll come back. 

Now, I don’t think Goo would really know much about Taco, if he knows about her at all, but Bot would definitely have heard about her, at least by virtue of having Fan as a Dad. But! They are very lost, and Taco is kind of their only option here!! So Bot asks her for help!! They’re lost, and need to get back to the hotel. Taco doesn’t really respond, but just sort of continues on where she was walking. Bot tries to get her attention again, but she doesn’t say anything. Once she reaches the bottom of a large shrub though, she holds the bushes open behind her, indicating that they should follow. So it seems like she’s gonna help them get back!! Bot and Goo both try to talk to her while they’re walking, but she doesn’t say anything back. Just keeps looking ahead, occasionally stopping to listen out for any potential predators. After a bit of walking, though, it turns out that she hasn’t led them back to the hotel. She pushes the top off of a stump, and points down, indicating for the two of them to go inside. Obviously, when a disheveled homeless woman you only know through tales that don’t paint her in a good light wants you to go down into a mysterious hole, you would not be too keen on doing so. 

So, Goo is spooked, and Bot’s not liking it either, so they insist Taco lead them back to the hotel. Taco shakes her head, and points down into the stump again. They insist again, Taco points again. They get nowhere, until Bot gets fed up, and turns around to try and search for the hotel on their own again, to which Taco stops them, moving to block Bot's way. Bot isn't happy, because they would like to get back to the dang hotel, but Taco!!! Starts communicating!! She bends down a bit and writes out "D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S" in the soil. Taco hasn’t spoken at all since Mic left. Why bother? She doesn’t have anyone to talk to, and she’s too upset to be talking to herself. So, she just writes in the dirt to communicate that the hotel is too far, and there’s too high a risk they won’t make it with all the perilousness in the Perilous Forest. If Taco, who’s lived there for years were to go, it would be one thing, but with Bot and Goo? Who are in the forest for the first time? No good. She’ll take them back once the sun’s come up, but for now it’s safer for them all if they take shelter for the night. Not in so many words of course, but she gets the message across.

Bot isn’t connected to MeLife, and Goo would quite frankly be happy to not be in the scary dark forest, so they concede and go down into Taco’s hidey hole house with her. It’s… well it sucks. It’s just a big hole. There’s a pile of leaves and moss. Uh. There’s a couple lemons. That’s uh. That’s it. Goo is trying to be a nice little fella, as he is, but he can’t really think of anything particularly nice to say, so he just ends up saying “This is a …place you got here!!” Taco is not amused. She sits down on the dirt floor and gestures to the moss/leaves pile. It’s relatively untouched, since although it was where she used to sleep, she hasn’t slept much for a while now, yeah? As Bot and Goo sit down (or whatever Goo does… just kind of droops a bit I suppose) Taco starts preparing the fish to eat!! With… her bare hands. Or rather, claws. She probably did have tools at one point, but after everything she gave up on maintaining them, and they became rather useless. So, she just does it by hand, wiping the blood and gore off on the dirt walls/floor or even her own lettuce. Quite a disturbing sight. Bot gives a polite but strained “no thank you.” Goo nearly cries. And this was not Taco’s intention!! We already know how bad she is with other people and their feelings, and she’s been in a depression for months!! This has just become the norm for her, she is not trying to scare them!! And doesn’t feel good when Goo is upset!! But of course, this is Taco being faced with emotions, so she fumbles around a bit, taking back the fish and trying to give Goo a lemon with the hand that isn’t soaked in fish blood!! It’s sour, but she does not have any other food stored up. She didn’t leave her little hidey hole for quite some time after her break up, so any storage she had is all used up. Besides, I think Goo would enjoy sour things well enough. Bot is a robot so I’m assuming they technically don’t need to eat and would just chill and let Goo enjoy his lemon. 

So Bot and Goo snuggle up and go to sleep, Taco sits in the dark for a few hours because she doesn’t trust them in her den unsupervised and also has barely slept for months <3. But once light starts seeping in from above, she wakes the two of them up to start the trek back to the hotel. Which, they realize as they start walking, is a pretty long trek. So, to fill the time, Goo tells a story!! For hours. Bot does their best to pay good attention!! Taco wasn’t paying attention when he started talking, much less midway through hour 3. And, remember earlier when I mentioned that you could imagine any sort of creature to be the thing chasing Bot and Goo? Well, not this time. I love bears, they’re cuddly and fluffy and don’t actually attack humans that much. Because they prefer fish and fruits and vegetables. Now, consider who of our three characters here would be absolutely scrumptious for a bear to eat. Because she’s full of vegetables. So, a bear comes and tries to eat Taco, Bot and Goo are quite rightfully very frightened, and Taco pulls out her space shooter, shoots it like a sick horse, and keeps walking. The founding members of the cheer factory are surprised, and have to scramble to catch up with her after a moment, because what the actual fuck was that. Well. I don’t think Goo knows the word fuck but still. They ask fair questions, like about how often she gets attacked by bears and why she has a gun, but Taco isn’t talking again and just keeps walking. Goo doesn’t go back to his story, so they just end up walking in silence, until they reach the edge of the forest!! There’s the hotel!! Hooray!! Taco points to the hotel, and immediately turns around to leave. Goo and Bot do thank her for helping them get back though, even if she doesn’t say anything back. 

They are immediately swamped upon entering the hotel. Fan is sobbing while holding Bot, and Test Tube is joining the hug even if she isn’t crying out the entire Atlantic Ocean. Goo is very much checked up on and doted upon too, even if none of the other contestants are his parents, they all probably have a mutual agreement to keep an eye on such a little and whimsical fella, yeah? But anyways, uh, the others had been looking for them for more or less the entire night and very much want to know where they’d disappeared to, of course!! So they explain getting lost and running into Taco which makes the air turn rather awkward, since she’s such a taboo topic in the hotel. When asked how she was, Bot and Goo mostly just look at each other like (⚆₋₍⚆). That would be even more concerning. Goo eventually just says a little “mm, well… if you don’t have anything nice to say you shouldn’t say anything…” Because. All they have to report is that she looked terrible, barely spoke, had blood on her half the time, and killed a bear that tried to eat her without flinching. And that’s. Very concerning. 

I honestly don’t have as much to say from here, since as I said I never expected to actually be sharing this concept, so it’s still really more of a concept rather than an au, but I’d say a small group goes to check on her here, and with Pickle’s permission (remember, only Knife and Soap know Mic had worked with her), offer her a room in the hotel. I mean, they still don’t like her, but Bot and Goo’s description of her ripping into fish with her bare hands for sustenance and having a nearly-falling-apart shell, they feel it pretty inhumane to not try to help her, yeah? And Taco is not having it. She opens up her little stump-roof-thing when Bot knocks and they and Goo call for her, but immediately slams it shut upon seeing they’ve brought more people, and refuses to come out, even when offered the hotel room. Taco is in the pinnacle of her self-hating era here, like she is doing so fucking bad. Remember when Brian said she’d be way worse off without Mepad? Well, here she is without Mepad, very much worse off. She believes herself incapable of changing!!! She would think going into the hotel would be the worst idea ever. She’d think she’d probably kill someone or steal something. She’d think OJ is an idiot for trying to let a kleptomaniac with a history of violence into his and the others’ place of living. 

And it would take quite a lot for her to be convinced, not even to go to the hotel just for a visit or an actual meal, but just to leave her den when she isn’t 100% sure no one else is around. Maybe it would be Mic. Maybe it would be Mepad. Even Balloon or Suitcase. It could be a combination of all of their respective efforts, that maybe things could turn out alright for Taco. Who knows. Not me because I have genuinely told you guys all I have for this concept at the moment. I’ll probably have more eventually but I would feel bad for making you all wait and also that eventually could be days or months so might as well put out what I have lol. 

Hope you all enjoyed!!! <3 sorry if this one sucked byeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[kelocitta]

In honor of the @rw-ship-showdown I wanted to write about Artihunter as someone who jokingly slapped them together pre-downpour and still thinks they are actually very compelling. Just not in the super soft love wins kinda way (Although I get why people like that more) And the only way I know how to do that is talking too much so heres a far too long slug essay-

Obviously the slugcats don't offer a ton of characterization but theres not nothing to work with. Their stories, whether by their roles in it or the overarching themes do provide a backbone to work with. Even gameplay itself can provide a bit. (for some more than others) Hunter, to me, is ultimately a story about selflessness. The goal is to revive Moon, which is very much an act of kindness from both Hunter and NSH. But the weight of that action is much more significant for Hunter- Hunter is deeply sick. They're on the clock, and for all their skill in combat none of that will ultimately help them to survive longer than their body can hold out. Moon is a close friend of NSH but that means little Hunter- Hunter really gets next to nothing out of helping them, and ultimately pays quiet a bit spending their limited time alive fighting to deliver that neuron so that someone else can live.

To spend ones limited days on helping another, in a game that very much stresses the unwavering cruelty of the world and nature- is pretty notable. (And you could even say that Hunter being the Hardmode of Rain World adds another layer to this)

And then we have Artificer. A storyline that very much stands out to people as more… villainous (so to speak) than the other slugcats. Artificer's story covers a lot of things. Trauma, violence, revenge, etc. Revenge is a bit of a selfish desire- That need to see someone hurt as they have hurt you. A punishment that ultimately does not fix whatever harm was done- but feels good to see because you were hurt and now those responsible share that pain.

Artificer's actions are founded in that need for revenge, their pups killed for overstepping boundaries they didn't know existed. Is it not fair for them to be angry at that, to punish the scavengers for their violence with their own? Why should the scavengers ever be forgiven when they and their pups were not? And that's how you get that loop- Harm for harm over and over.

The original action has been lost in a spiral of violence for violence. And here stands Artificer- their very spirit scarred. Not just because they sought revenge, but because they never ceased trying to scratch that itch for violence as an answer. Artificer only has two paths for their story- killing the scavenger king (Someone who, really, has little to do with the original 'crime' of the scavengers, but represents an important individual to them- as did the slugpups to Artificer), locking themselves as karma one for good and spending the rest of their life chasing creatures that no longer even fight back in a warped sense of closure- or to dissolve themselves in the acids of the void sea because they're too far gone to find any real peace.

They can't meaningfully recover from that state, not alone, twisting in on themselves. Even if they halt their actions, they've been using violence as a feeble defense against their own pain- violence that no longer has any real direction or basis. Artificer gets no real closure from killing the scavenger king. All they can do is continue the cycle, or try to scrub it away. No real peace in a prison of their own making. So you have a creature, who even with a strict timer on their life- a body that will crumble to disease, spends its last bit of time on saving another. And another who was so caught up in the pain of loss that were eaten alive by their own anger, poisoned their own soul on such a deep level even self-proclaimed gods have no solution for them. What peace can they offer each other? For Hunter, its only a fleeting moment of happiness- of selfish love, before their own body fails them. A bit of indulgence in something for themself. For Artificer, its a single, comforting thread to ground them again, something tangible to protect and care about again. But thats a thread that will ultimately be snapped under the cruel indifference of the world. Hunters timer will tick down regardless of if it takes another with it. Its a tragedy- its doomed to end badly. Whatever good it offers to either of them to find each other will only provide the fleeting comfort of a band-aid that will be ripped away too early. But all that can be worth indulging in anyway, if only for the moment. It doesn't change the ending, but the ending was never going to be happy. Its can so yuri

[unicornconnor]

Oh if you’re up for it, I’d love to know more about Connor! Anything you’re willing to share? No pressure of course

I want to talk about him ENDLESSLY, but what stops me is that I know english terribly, and translator do so many strange things. But I will try… Just some superficial random facts

Throughout Rebirth and Retribution, Connor fought hard to break his smoking habit, trying to cut it down to one cigarette a day (or would be better, quit altogether). In exchange, he started eating more sugar. But broken legs nullified all his efforts, and he began to smoke even more than before. At first, all he did while recovering was smoke and smoke and smoke and mope

Dude has terrible eating habits. He usually eats his daily allowance, but here's what's on his menu💀 fast food, energy drinks and something that should have been thrown out of the fridge three days ago. Thanks for not eating from the trash, bro🙏

I reworked his villainous suit a couple of times. Here's the first version (what, evil buzz lightyear?!)

I have a strong association with green and purple for Connor. I think those are his true colors, but he really wants to be red. Red is a much easier way to show who Connor is (a hot-tempered dumbass). Deep down he's purple and green, but on the outside he's red…um, yeah…. The final version of his suit looks more like…motorcyclist????

If Connor were a flower, it would be a bulgarian columbine

He'd like to be cool like a shark, but in reality he's more a shabby beaten dog in a shabby ridiculous shark suit

He's loser lol. He got hit by everyone in Los Diablos who wanted to hit him

My friend and I have AU where the villain is a joint project of two Re-Genes who escaped from the Farm. Connor - muscles, Ryou - brain. Ryouuuuuu, my boy!!!! (however in this AU he doesn't have a puppet)

They have a very complicated but very close relationship at the same time. Connor literally ran away from the Farm for the second time to kick his best friend's ass. He was fixated on the thought that Ryou had left him alone in this nightmare. Boys just need to beat each other half to death sometimes to clear their relationship, it's okay

Connor has almost no problem accepting himself as a Re-Gene. He knows exactly who he is and he wants Re-Genes to have the same rights as humans. However, he's afraid of how people react to Re-Genes. And he is just furious with how Ortega simply said that he hates and fears Re-Genes and then FORGOT that he said it, that it is such a small thing to him

Ughhhhhhhh…the boy suffers from toxic masculinity. He would rather die than cry or admit that he is hurt and bad. I think his behavior is full of stereotypical male habits, which he himself suffers from. The farm trained him well in this regard. He only cried once in front of Ryou, and in the hospital Ortega saw him having a nervous breakdown. Dude lost an eye because he decided that it was better than saying "sorry". Bruh

Positive side, Connor is categorically against killing, and he likes being a hero-vigilante more than a villain. He's easy to manipulate, pretending that you're crying, in pain, lonely, defenseless, etc. ahahaha

[infiredlove]

Internship Begets Rivalry

Chapter Eight: Terms & Conditions

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Romcom Word Count: 2,340 Summary: In a cutthroat music internship, competition turns complicated when you find yourself tangled in a constant, tension-fueled push and pull with your rival Min Yoongi. Masterlist | Chapter One

“This is blackmail.”

Yoongi tilted his head. “It's a negotiation.”

I glared. “It’s manipulation.”

“It’s effective.” He looked far too pleased with himself.

I crossed my arms. “So let me get this straight. You’re forcing me to spend time with you—alone—just so you won’t run your mouth?”

Yoongi gave a lazy shrug. “Forcing is a strong word. I’d say incentivizing.”

I huffed. “And if I tell you to shove your ‘incentives’ up your ass.”

“Then I hope you enjoy Amber’s interrogation methods.”

I shuddered. Amber alone was terrifying. But with Krystal and Luna? I wouldn’t last a day. And Yoongi knew it. He definitely saw my resolve waver because he took a step closer, eyes gleaming with victory. Instinctively, I stepped back, avoiding his gaze.

“So? What’s it gonna be?”

Another step forward. Another step back. And then—my legs hit something, and before I could catch myself, I stumbled, landing ungracefully onto the couch behind me. I barely had time to recover before Yoongi closed the distance, hands bracing on either side of me—his left on the back of the couch just above my head, his right settling next to mine on the armrest. I was trapped.

I exhaled sharply, shoulders slumping. “Fine. But I have conditions.”

His lips twitched. “You’re negotiating with me? Bold.”

I ignored him. “One, we only meet up off-campus—”

“Suspicious, but okay.”

I scowled. “Two, we do normal things. No weird Yoongi-style activities.”

He hummed. “Define normal.”

I rolled my eyes. “I dunno like… coffee shops. Movies. Stuff that doesn’t involve me questioning my life choices.”

“Boring, but fine.” He looked entirely unbothered. “Next?”

I hesitated, then pointed at him. “No flirting.”

He outright laughed. “Now that’s really unrealistic.”

“I mean it, Min.”

“Sure, sure.” He was still smirking. “No flirting. Anything else, your highness?”

I pursed my lips, feeling like I’d somehow already lost this battle. “…That’s it.”

Yoongi nodded, straightening up. “Great. First meetup is tomorrow.”

I gaped. “Tomorrow? We just made this deal—”

“And I’m holding up my end of the bargain.” His smirk deepened. “Unless you’d rather I stop by Namjoon’s on my way out?”

I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose. “Fine.”

“Smart girl. Pick you up at eight.” He tapped me lightly on the nose before walking out of the studio. 

I turned to argue, but he was already gone, leaving me sitting there with the sinking realization that I’d just walked into a trap. I let out a slow breath, running a hand down my face as the sinking realization settled in.

"Why is it always eight?" I muttered under my breath, scowling at the empty doorway.

—

I was already regretting this.

Yoongi had given me an address, a simple “Meet me here at 8” text, and nothing else. And now, as I stood in front of a tiny, dimly lit bookstore tucked into an alleyway, I wondered if I was about to get lured into some kind of underground crime syndicate.

I pulled out my phone and texted him.

Me: Are you serious? A bookstore? Yoongi: You said normal. Me: Normal people go to cafes, not creepy side-street bookstores! Yoongi: You’re here, aren’t you?

I clenched my jaw. Smug bastard.

Before I could type out an appropriately scathing reply, the door creaked open. Yoongi leaned against the frame, looking effortlessly cool in his usual black ensemble, one hand shoved into his pocket.

“Coming in, or are you just gonna loiter suspiciously?”

I glared. “Is this where you take all your enemies to bond?”

“Only my favorite ones.” His lips twitched. “Now get inside before you get snatched off the street.”

I grumbled but stepped in, the scent of old paper and ink immediately wrapping around me like a warm blanket. The shop was cozy, with overstuffed chairs and little lamps casting golden pools of light over the shelves. It was quiet, save for the distant rustling of pages and a soft jazz tune playing from a record player in the corner.

Yoongi led me toward the back, where a small, tucked-away reading nook was hidden. A tiny café counter sat nearby, offering tea and pastries.

I folded my arms. “This is your idea of a fun night out?”

Yoongi sat down in an armchair and stretched out lazily. “You’re the one who wanted normal.”

I scoffed. “Most people would pick a movie or dinner, not a library for hipsters.”

“Most people are boring.” He flipped open a book and looked at me expectantly. “Well? Pick something.”

I frowned. “Pick what?”

“A book. That’s what you do in a bookstore.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, suspicious. “Why do I feel like this is a test?”

Yoongi smirked but didn’t confirm or deny.

I sighed, scanning the shelves before grabbing a book at random. I plopped down across from him and flipped it open. Fine. If this is what he wanted, I’d play along.

Minutes passed.

Then half an hour.

And to my horror… I actually started enjoying myself.

The silence was surprisingly comfortable. Every once in a while, I’d glance up and catch Yoongi watching me over the edge of his book, his expression unreadable. The air felt charged, but not in an unbearable way. It was just… there.

Eventually, I cleared my throat. “You’re being weirdly quiet.”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with amusement. “Didn’t know you wanted me to talk.”

I scowled. “I didn’t say all that.”

“Hm.” He shut his book and leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand. “You’re having fun.”

I scoffed. “No, I’m not.”

He smirked. “Liar.”

I turned back to my book, determined to ignore him.

I wasn’t having fun.

Definitely not.

…Right?

The silence stretched again, but now it felt heavier, like Yoongi was waiting for something. Finally, he spoke, voice quieter than before. “You don’t read often, do you?”

I raised a brow in confusion. “What makes you say that?”

“You’ve been reading the same page for ten minutes.”

My face heated. “Maybe I’m just really taking it in.”

He chuckled, leaning back again. “Right. Or maybe you’re too busy thinking about me.”

I snapped my book shut. “Wow, someone’s full of himself.”

Yoongi just grinned. “Am I wrong?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. He took my silence as victory, his smug expression deepening.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “Only to make sure you keep your mouth shut.”

“Mm.” He hummed. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

I grabbed the nearest pillow from one of the chairs and threw it at him. He dodged it easily, laughing under his breath before going back to his book.

And somehow, despite my better judgment… I stayed.

—

I was not thinking about Yoongi.

I was not replaying the quiet moments in that bookstore, the way he’d smirked when he caught me actually enjoying myself, or the way his voice had softened just the slightest bit when he told me to pick something.

Nope. Not happening.

“Earth to Y/N.”

A hand waved in front of my face, and I blinked back into reality. Amber, Krystal, and Luna were staring at me expectantly from across the cafeteria table, their trays half-empty and their expressions far too amused for my liking.

“What?” I asked defensively.

Amber snorted. “You’ve been zoning out for the past five minutes. I asked you if you wanted to come to the new karaoke bar on Saturday, and you just sat there, staring into space like a lovesick fool.”

I choked on my water. “Excuse me?”

Krystal arched her brow. “So, who’s the guy?”

“There’s no guy!” I said way too quickly.

Luna gasped. “There’s totally a guy.”

“There is no guy,” I repeated, glaring at them.

Amber tapped a finger against her chin. “You have been acting weird lately…”

“I have not. That is a false accusation.”

Krystal smirked. “You so have. First, you were avoiding Yoongi like he had the plague. Now, you’re spacing out mid-conversation? Highly suspicious.”

I rolled my eyes. “You guys are ridiculous.”

Luna hummed. “So you wouldn’t mind if we asked Yoongi about it?”

I froze. That was exactly what they wanted—some kind of reaction, some kind of proof that they were onto something. But I refused to give them the satisfaction. I leaned back in my seat, feigning nonchalance.

“Go ahead. He’ll just glare at you until you leave him alone.”

Amber frowned. “That’s true… He is kinda scary.”

Krystal nodded. “Yeah, but only to other people. He’s awfully chatty with you.”

I clenched my jaw. Damn it. They had noticed.

Luna’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Wait—what if Yoongi is the guy?”

The air around the table shifted.

I forced out a laugh. “Okay, now I know you’re all insane.”

Amber squinted at me. “That wasn’t a denial.”

“It was. And this is stupid!” I gestured vaguely in frustration. “Have you seen me and Yoongi? We argue constantly. We don’t even like each other.”

Krystal pursed her lips. “And yet, you’re being very defensive right now.”

I groaned, grabbing my tray. “I’m leaving.”

Luna gasped dramatically. “She’s running away! That means we’re right!”

I flipped them off over my shoulder. “You guys need hobbies!”

As I stomped away, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and nearly tripped over my own feet.

Yoongi: Did you get caught?

My face burned. I spun around, scanning the cafeteria until my eyes landed on him, sitting at a table near the back. His friends were talking around him, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was watching me. And smirking. I gritted my teeth and typed furiously.

Me: No. But they’re suspicious. Me: This is your fault. Yoongi: My fault? Me: Yes! You keep looking at me. Stop it! Yoongi: But you’re so fun to mess with.

I nearly screamed.

He was so infuriating.

—

I had made a huge mistake.

A terrible, irreversible mistake.

Because the more time I spent alone with Yoongi, the harder it was to convince myself that I didn’t like it. That I didn’t—shouldn’t—enjoy the way he always leaned in too close just to see me squirm. Or the way his voice fell quiet, deep and rumbling, as he teasing whenever we were alone.

The problem was, avoiding him meant facing my other problem—my friends. And considering they were actively trying to uncover a nonexistent relationship, spending time with Yoongi had become the easier option.

Which was exactly how I ended up here, sitting across from him in the dim corner of a tiny ramen shop just off campus. I poked at my noodles, trying very hard not to look at him.

“You’re quiet today,” Yoongi mused, breaking apart his chopsticks.

I huffed. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.”

He tilted his head. “That’d be a first.”

I shot him a glare, but he just smirked.

Annoying.

Silence settled between us—comfortable, but charged. It was always like this. Like an invisible thread had tied itself between us, pulling just enough to make its presence known but never enough to snap.

He leaned forward slightly. “They’re still onto you?”

I groaned. “Worse. Amber almost asked you about it today.”

Yoongi arched his brow. “Almost?”

I scowled. “They still think you’re intimidating.”

He hummed like that was amusing to him. “Smart of them.”

I rolled my eyes. “You enjoy this too much.”

“Of course I do,” he said simply, resting his chin in his hand. “Watching you panic is entertaining.”

“I’m not panicking.”

Yoongi snorted. “Right.”

I threw a piece of scallion at him. He dodged it effortlessly, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

We ate in relative quiet after that, though I kept sneaking glances at him—not because I wanted to, but because it was weird seeing him like this. No moody scowl, no sharp remarks, just… Yoongi.

At one point, he caught me staring. “What?”

I smirked. “You look really happy right now.”

He raised a brow. “And?”

I leaned in conspiratorially. “It’s just funny. For a guy who tries so hard to be all emo and mysterious, you sure light up over a bowl of ramen.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue. “I don’t ‘try’ to be anything.”

“Uh-huh.” I gave him a knowing look. “Next thing I know, you’ll be telling me you don’t own at least ten black hoodies.”

He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I know I’m funny.” I grinned. “And you, Min Yoongi, are secretly soft.”

He leaned forward slightly, voice lowering. “If I’m so soft, then why are you blushing?”

I blinked. “I’m not—”

“You’re 100% blushing.” His smirk deepened. A pause and then— “It’s cute.”

I stammered. “How would you even know I’m blushing?”

He laughed incredulously, “What, you think cause you’re black you don’t blush?”

I opened my mouth to argue, but as usual, I couldn’t think of anything smart to say. Instead I scoffed, shoving a piece of napkin at him, “Wipe that smug look off your face.”

He chuckled but took the napkin anyway, dabbing at his lips with an exaggeratedly polite motion. “Better?”

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks still felt warm.

When we finished, we stepped outside into the crisp night air, the glow of streetlights washing over the nearly empty sidewalk. I shoved my hands into my pockets, still feeling the warmth of the ramen in my stomach.

“Amber said I was acting like a lovesick fool today,” I muttered, kicking at a loose pebble.

Yoongi laughed. “Were you?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

I glared at him. “Yes.”

He shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Too bad.”

I frowned. “Too bad what?”

Yoongi exhaled, his breath fogging slightly in the cold. “Would’ve been nice if you finally admitted it.”

I just stared at him. I had nothing to say to that.

Nothing at all.

Instead, I turned on my heel and started walking. “I’m going home.”Yoongi’s low chuckle followed me. “See you tomorrow, lovesick fool.”

----------------------------------------

Masterlist | One | Seven | Nine

[astral-mariner]

WIP Wednesday!

An excerpt from my dark saiyans under Freeza story, Homeworld Lost.

Some context: This comes from the first chapter of Part 8, titled "A Lonely World." Vegeta and Raditz have stolen an attack ball and escaped from Freeza's homeworld to a nearby empty planet. They've spent the past few months "recovering" under the care of Freeza's healers after an extremely harrowing purge mission. Raditz is still experiencing the aftereffects of a mind-altering drug on top of everything else. This empty planet is the first time they've been away from Freeza and his "healer" in quite a while. This, coupled with everything they experienced during their last assignment, was obviously extremely traumatic. The scene I've shared below is the first opportunity they've had to be alone and process anything. Vegeta is right around 17 here (about when a saiyan comes of age), and Raditz is around 24.

His arms folded over my own, and his hands clasped mine. After evening treatments—just like the night he returned—he’d often curl at the corner of his bed, leaving space for me, and shoulder to shoulder, we’d tell stories deep into the night. But we’d never sat so close as this. The prince bowed his head, leaving his neck exposed to my cheek as I leaned into him. His pulse fluttered beneath my lips; heat smoldered between us as if we warmed ourselves with energy.

***

Rain rushed over our pod’s round red window, rolling down in thick streams like tears down an already wet cheek. Neither of us moved to open the hatch. Still drowsy from stasis, the downpour occupied our silence. The pod was never meant for two passengers, and Vegeta had to sit in front of me between my spread legs, his back pressed to my chest, but we didn’t mind it. My arms tightened around his waist, and I rested my head on his shoulder. Warm—we’d left our armor behind. No room, and no protection would it offer if Freeza decided to punish us.

His grip tightened, fingers trembling. As my eyes drifted shut, visions flashed before them. For a moment, I felt the gentle clutch of an embrace as if my own arms encircled me, as if I occupied the prince’s space instead. Though Fuenghi’s effects were waning, I recognized the ghostly touch as Vegeta must. No one had held him like this since his mother had all those years ago. When Arcos was just another distant, meaningless world beyond the stars.

A flash of lightning, and the distant roll of thunder. We’d stay like this a little longer yet. Until the storm broke—the prince wouldn’t have to provide an excuse, justify anything. I wouldn’t call attention to it. I nuzzled his hair and breathed in his scent. My thumb stroked the back of his hand rhythmically, offering a small distraction lest the rest overwhelm him.

“I remember the first time I ever stepped inside the royal city,” I told him. Another distraction. Another story from a different life. “The day you were crowned prince and your mother named queen, actually. You were too young to remember. You’d just come back from your mother’s country. Lots of people talked about how strong you were, but I didn’t really care about the rumors then. They always say the newborn royal is strong. But I knew something was different when they named you Vegeta right then and there. You never knew any other name. Always Prince Vegeta.”

He nodded.

“I remember because they let even classless people through the palace gate. People like my mother had been. No one could believe it, especially with how your father was. But we all crowded in to see the forbidden grounds, to see you. Lots of shouting, fights in the square.”

I chuckled to myself. “I kicked an elite brat’s ass that day. Got myself to the front where I could see everything. Then it all went quiet when your mother stepped out with you and Nappa. Just whispers. Like she put a spell on everyone.”

Vegeta’s tail loosened from his waist. He let it drape over my thigh, the tip curling under my knee. When my hand shifted from his to his tail instead, tension melted from his shoulders.

“Then the king announced that there would be a tournament when the moon was half-full.” I went on. “The strongest; class didn’t matter. The gods alone would prove who was worthy to fight at your side, he said. You remember the tournament, of course. When we first met. But that day, when you were crowned—that was the day I decided I’d train, and I’d be the one to win.”

The rain slowed to a drizzle. The prince turned in my arms, then activated the hatch, opening it. Warm mist, tasting of the nearby sea, blew into the pod even if the curved walls still sheltered us from the passing storm. I thought Vegeta might step outside then, but he didn’t. He instead leaned back against my chest. Both of us looked out overhead; the wind chased somber clouds across the horizon.

Cautiously, my hands returned to his waist, and his tail, brushing my forearm and remaining loose, reassured me if his silence didn’t. “That was when the fighting broke out again. When your father presented the challenge. I flattened a few more noble brats. And I got thrashed too.”

I laughed. “But it was one of the best days. I was glad to be saiyan. Battles for the rush of it, low-classes and nobles together. It went late into the night. People from all over the world. Giving away food and wine in the streets. Got drunk for the first time, actually. Or maybe my head was spinning from that hard kick. I honestly couldn’t tell you.”

Vegeta hung his head. When he crossed his arms over his chest, his nails dug in and pulled at his bodysuit. “Gone. Doesn’t matter.”

I took his hand, twining our fingers together and unhooking them from his suit. “I know all of it’s gone.” I squeezed his palm and pressed it to his chest, holding him tight against me. “But it was good. That’s what I try to r-remember…”

I had to stop, choking up and desperate to compose myself. “It was good, and it’s worth fighting for. Avenging. So what if we die trying. It won’t be for nothing. However hard it is, it means something. It means that life was good sometimes, for someone, somewhere. Even if it isn’t for us. That we’re still here and still fighting—it proves just how much it matters.”

The prince captured my wrist with his other hand and used that grip to fling me away. He stood. Clambered out of the pod. His tail coiled tight around his waist as the wind whipped his hair into a jagged mess. “No,” he said, keeping his back to me. “What we’ve—seen…dealt…pointless.”

His fist so tight, his knuckles whitened. “Thought you’d know better. Killed all those children, didn’t you? For what? No glorious battle there, was there? So why’d you do it? Why does Freeza purge people he just sold a planet to, like the ones who lived here last season? It’s fucking pointless. Just the whim of a filthy lowlife. And the gods let all of it happen. Everywhere. There’s nothing you can do, Raditz, but make your enemies suffer. Make them pay for what they’ve taken.”

I got up and out of the pod as well.

Vegeta must’ve heard me, felt me. He raised his voice, daring me to step closer. “We’re alone against this universe. And if I transform, it’ll be in spite of the gods, not because of them. Alone. Hear me?”

“That’s not the Vegeta I know.” I didn’t come closer, but I hovered behind him. “I didn’t enter the tournament because I wanted to fight with you, you know. Thought it was a load of fucking royal nonsense as usual. Gods, I couldn’t fucking stand you. Like having a third-class partner was a fucking insult even though I fucking won—”

“Who cares about some pointless tournament?”

“Let me fucking finish, Vegeta.” I grabbed his shoulder even if I expected punishment. “But then you promised me you’d take Freeza down. That you’d make things right. That night on Freeza’s ship. Only believed you because I wanted to believe it. Hardly more than a child. All we had. Doubted it deep down even though I held on.”

He shuddered. “Raditz, don’t.”

“Then Fuenghi. Everything changed. I believed it—not just nonsense and stories. Really believed it. I promised I’d tell you. Couldn’t tell you on Arcos, not what really happened. [SPOILER].”

He froze.

“I lied to everyone. Zarbon, Rhysling, even Nappa. Would’ve lied to Freeza too. But I’m not lying to you. I wish you remembered so you could feel it like I do. It’s not pointless. It can’t be. It can’t.”

“D-don’t believe you.”

Staggering me, the prince’s energy flared around him. He took off for the sea before I could stop him. His path shredded the clouds, and a scar of starry sky split open above me.

[yellowkitkieran]

Home (Kieran Tierney)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Kieran surprises you by coming home early from his loan spell in Spain.

“When do you come home?”

Kieran smiles because you're both aware you've had the answer to that question memorized for months. But he indulges you anyway, “Friday. So only a few more days my love, and then I'll be home with you again.”

You sigh and begin typing your next email. You've become adept at multitasking while on the phone with Kieran; he'd be in the gym, airpods in while you chatted, and you would be settled in at the desk in Kieran's guest room working away on your laptop. Stolen moments like these have become the norm since Kieran went on loan in Spain. To make the most of a bad situation, you both came to the silent agreement that you would spend as much time on the phone together as possible. As a result, you now often find it hard to concentrate without Kieran on the other line. 

“Right, Friday. In the afternoon right? I'm gonna try and get the house cleaned up before then, I don't need you seeing how messy I keep it when you're away!” 

Kieran’s quiet laugh sends a slight shiver down your spine. “We both know it's not that bad. I'm sure you keep it plenty tidy. Don't worry about keeping it spotless, cause I'm just gonna mess it up as soon as I'm home.”

“Still. When you get here, I just want to focus on you. You kept Saturday open for sure yeah?” 

“Mmhhm. Everyone else thinks I'm coming home on Sunday, so I'm all yours.” 

You smile to yourself, sitting back in your chair. You have a full day planned for the two of you that mostly involves making up for lost time. Assuming your Friday night will be spent wrapped up in each other completely, you've mentally blocked off a few hours on Saturday morning to recover and wind down. After that, you'll help Kieran unpack his suitcases, do whatever washing needs done, and finally end off the day with dinner at his favorite place in Central London. 

“Good! It'll be… fun… oh fucks sake…” you trail off as you read the email that's just arrived in your inbox. “Seriously- why! Can people not read?!”

“What's wrong babe? Someone mess up the catering order again?” You can almost hear Kieran's smile through the phone. “You'll fix it in time, you always do.”

“Yeah of course I will,” you grumble, now zeroed in on pulling up receipts and time stamps to triple check the order you placed versus the order that you were quoted for. “Just means more work for me is all. And just when I thought I was done for the day!”

“Shame that, I was hoping to get some time with you today.” You swear Kieran's voice is echoing. “You sure you can't put that off until the morning?”

“No, I can't, I have to do it now. Ugh, this wouldn't happen if people paid more attention!” 

“I think you should close your laptop.” 

Frustrated, you rub your temples and close your eyes. “Babe I can't. This is for tomorrow's lunch so-” 

“So that means that you'll have time if you wake up early to get it fixed up. I think you should come downstairs.” 

Okay, either you're hearing things or there really is an echo. You frown, setting your phone aside and listening closely for any sounds in the house, but you only hear Shadow, Kieran's dog, pacing downstairs on the wood floors. 

“Did you send another delivery or something babe? Because Shadow always gets anxious when people come up to the door, I wish you'd give me a heads up.” Unfurling to your feet with a heavy sigh, you pad downstairs with your phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder. “One of these days you're gonna give that poor dog a heart attack-”

“Hi baby,” Kieran says, tucking his phone in his pocket. Shadow sits at your boyfriend's side, his tail thumping merrily whilst you stand perfectly still. Your brain goes into overdrive, mentally counting days and confirming that today was not Friday, and therefore Kieran should not be home yet… but here he stands before you, flesh and blood and just as handsome as the last time you saw him.

A delighted, high pitch squeal bubbles out of your chest. Kieran laughs and opens his arms, which you promptly take as an invitation to leap into them and latch onto him like a koala. “Oh my god, oh my god! You're home already?!” 

“I am,” Kieran murmurs into your hair after kissing the top of your head. “I packed up early and decided I couldn't wait another second before I saw you.” The urge to squeeze Kieran until he wheezes is nearly overwhelming. Instead of acting on impulse and earning yourself a lecture, you pry your face out of Kieran's neck- his aftershave tickles your nose- and pepper kisses across his face. 

“I- missed- you- so- much- you- pretty- boy-” Kieran's cheeks become hotter with each peck you press to his skin. Shadow barks to indicate he's keen to join in on the action. Soon Kieran is supporting your weight with a hand under your bum and scratching behind Shadow's ears when the big pup jumps on his hip to demand his attention, too. Kieran is happy to balance you both, eventually crouching down to sit on the floor with you still wrapped around him.

Once Shadow calms down and rests his big head on Kieran’s knee, the room quiets. Kieran draws shapes on the small of your back, letting you gaze upon him for as long as you desire. He is content with your fingertips brushing over his cheekbones, along his stubbled jaw and down the side of his neck. You smile at his contented sigh, the breathy sound distracting you from your reverence. 

“You're actually tan. Took you long enough to stop burning like a tomato.” Your eyes flick to Kieran's smile and you do not stop yourself from stealing a kiss. You'll never take those lips for granted, not after being forced to cope without them for so long. 

Kieran rolls up the sleeve of his white tshirt to show you his tan line. Halfway up his bicep, his golden, tanned skin gives way to his natural pale shade. You trace the line with a finger as Kieran defends himself, “Spanish sun cannae fully fix Scottish skin, my love. But I know you like when I'm not so pale, so I figured I'd soak up as much as I could before I came home.” 

Muscles flex under your finger when Kieran wraps his arms around your middle once more. You lay your palm flat to soak up his warmth and smile to yourself.

“I love you just as much when you're ghostly white. Doesn't matter to me. But the sun makes your little bitty freckles come out, so I do enjoy those.” 

Kieran's nose scrunches up when you lean forward to kiss it. You could sit like this until the end of days and be perfectly happy. With Kieran sat beneath you, soft, idle touches and whispered words would be more than enough to pass the time.

At some point Kieran coaxes both you and Shadow to your feet and leads you to the sofa. A happy sigh falls from his lips when you tumble into him and hook one leg over his hips. Shadow curls up in his normal spot at Kieran's feet like not a day has passed without his dad there. 

“What should we do tonight?” Kieran's words are a rumble beneath the hand you have laid on his chest. When you don't immediately answer, Kieran’s hand lands on the back of your thigh and coaxes you to find your words with a soft squeeze. 

“Dunno. Nothing? I don't plan on moving.” You assume Shadow's moody huff is a sound of agreement and grin. “See? Even the dog doesn't want to move. We want to stay right here and spend some quality time with you.”

The hand that drifts to the hem of your shorts is at odds with Kieran's words. “I guess I can't object to that. Just cuddle? I can at least have a couple kisses, right?” 

Lifting your head just enough to meet his tawny brown eyes, you ponder his request. You drag out the suspense and drum your fingers on his chest despite both of you knowing you would never refuse a kiss. “I'm sure something can be arranged. Put something on the telly to entertain Shadow then, he doesn't need to be scarred for life, mister ‘I can't keep my hands to myself’.”

Kieran lifts a shoulder in a what are ya gonna do kind of gesture before putting on a random nature show that immediately captures Shadow's attention. One of Kieran's hands remains on your thigh whilst the other comes up to cup your cheek and pull your lips to his. 

Stubble scratches your chin, but you don't mind. Right then, all that matters is giving Kieran the kiss he deserves. He expertly pulls soft, breathless sounds from you as his tongue glides against yours. The kiss feels familiar and brand new at the same time, like dejavu in the best possible way.

Breaking away for a chance to breathe allows Kieran to drop kisses like dewdrops across your jaw. You smile when he nibbles softly at the skin of your neck, already unable to contain himself. 

“I said cuddles only tonight my darling,” you remind him. “You're pushing your luck. Behave or I'll make you stay in the spare room tonight.” 

Kieran's laugh is full and throaty. You've missed the true sound of his laughter, without it being distorted by a speaker. “That's an empty threat if I ever heard one. If I was a betting man, my money would be on us falling asleep right here on this sofa.” 

In the end, Kieran turns out to be correct. Neither of you moves an inch as the sun sets, your urgent emails suspended in time while you're safely wrapped up in your boyfriend's loving, tanned arms. 

[waterfire1848]

Sokkla Zombie Apocalypse AU please!

Hello, anon!!!

1. Sokka and Azula meet when Sokka goes into an abandoned warehouse looking for supplies and Azula attacks him, claiming everything in there is hers. Sokka tries to attack her but Azula moves around him and pins him down (Azula: At least now I have a sacrifice for the zombies. Sokka: Please, I need the medical supplies. That’s all! Just give me that and I’ll be out of your hair. Azula: And then you’ll need my weapons, food, clean water, I’m not an idiot.). Needless to say, she gives Sokka nothing which isn’t good before she’s the only one for miles with a good supply. Sokka is kicked out but stays, waiting for her to leave so he can get back in and get what he needs. He tries to break in again but she traps him, leaving him hanging up in a net. (Azula: What do you want? You seriously can’t be this stupid to actually try and steal from me. Sokka: I wouldn’t call it stupidity, more like…hopefulness that you’re a heavy sleeper. Azula: Stupidity.) Once again, she lets him go and tells him to leave.

2. Sokka, of course, sticks around but the next day he notices that the warehouse is getting attacked by zombies and Azula is struggling to hold them all off on her own. (A lot of weapons is great but you know what’s better? Having people to fire them). Acting on instinct, Sokka jumps down and helps Azula kill them all and secure the warehouse to make it more zombie proof. (Azula: Why did you save me? Sokka:…. Azula: You’re not taking my stuff. Sokka: Then let me help you and earn some stuff. I can help get food, help with the zombies, get more stuff from the city…I can help you. Azula: Fine). Azula agrees to let him stay and contribute and the two become pretty close friends. They bond over shared stories, make jokes together, help heal one another, and Azula even shares that she’s the last of her family (everyone else became a zombie) which is why she’s all alone. That’s the night that they kiss for the first time. For the next two weeks, everything is pretty perfect until Sokka tells Azula that he has to leave for a while. (Azula: What? For a meeting at the office? Sokka: I love that you think I’d have an office job. No, I just have to get something. Azula: Hurry back and take one or two of the weapons. Sokka: And the food? Azula: I think I’ll handle how much food you should take. Without being held back, you’d take all our food. Sokka: You know me so well *Kisses her* Azula: Sokka…stay safe. Sokka: I will. I promise.)

3. Sokka disappears for the next week after that, making Azula fear that something has happened. As the start of the second week rolls around, Azula goes to bed in terror that he’s gone and never coming back. Then, sometime that night, Sokka returns with a badly sick woman and one other person, someone who looks to be a couple years younger than Sokka and the woman. (Azula: What is going on? Sokka: This is who I needed the medical supplies for: my sister, Katara. I got a letter a couple days ago from Aang, that’s him, that she was getting worse and….and we lost a few of our people). Katara is provided with what medicine Azula has and starts to slowly recover. With three bodies in the warehouse now, it’s really started to take more shape and more supplies has been added. (Sokka: Hey. I’m sorry for bringing even more people here. I know you had a cozy little pad here and now Aang is here and Katara is here. It’s a lot. Azula: No comment on you being here? Sokka: I figured I would get special privileges as the boyfriend and all. Azula: What makes you think that? Sokka: ☹️. Azula: I’m kidding. I actually really like that you guys are here. I…It feels nice to not be the only person here anymore.)

4. Time passes. Katara grows stronger and stronger and helps secure the warehouse, Aang is incredibly fast and able to get resources from the city (he also knows how to farm and tries his hand at that), Sokka goes with Aang to get stuff or he’s in the warehouse helping set up surveillance, and Azula is helping Katara get better and setting up longer range weapons. Sokka and Azula’s relationship grows stronger and stronger with everyday. They train together, eat together, sleep together and, basically, spend as much time together as they can. (Sokka: Sick of me yet. Azula: No. Lucky for you, you’re very cute.) They got a pretty good little home and have stay relatively safe (of course there’s always a few attacks but for the most part they’ve been able to keep the warehouse and everyone safe). A year passes with the group living together happily until they’re asleep one night, Sokka is woken up from a lovely rest when Azula almost steps on him getting to the window (Sokka: Done cuddling for the night? Azula: Someone’s here. Sokka: How do you have heading that good? Azula: Live on your own for 10 years, you get some good hearing. Zombies are coming. Wake up Katara and Aang!) It’s not zombies. It’s Ty Lee and Mai.

5. Azula is beyond happy to see her childhood friends are alive, but that happiness kind of disappears when she hears them say that there is a civilization of people and that they can go with them. Azula doesn’t want to leave their warehouse. She claims it’s too dangerous for them to go and that they would risk being out in the open. Mai and Ty Lee try to argue that it’s better over there and safer, but still Azula refuses. Sokka is on the fence because, on the one hand, he doesn’t want to leave Azula, but on the other hand he wants to make sure his sister and Aang are safe. (Azula: I’m not leaving. I’ve put years of my life into this place. Sokka: You will die if you stay here! Azula: Then I’ll die! I just know that this place is safe! We’re happy, safe-there’s food! Water! Everything we need is here! Sokka: That’s all at the other camp too and there we won’t have to do so much on our own. You said you were lonely but if we go to this new place there will be so many more people and- Azula: It’s too dangerous. We have to stay. Sokka: We have to leave! Yes, it’s dangerous but once we get there we’ll be safe. Azula…. Sokka: I-Please come with us, Azula. Please. Azula: This is my home. It’s kept me safe for so long. I just…Sokka: I know. It was hard for Katara and me to leave when our family died but we had each other. You’ll have Katara, Aang, Mai, Ty Lee and me. Azula:…You’re sure we should leave? Sokka: I really think it’s safer for us to go. Azula: Okay. I’ll go, but I’ll be uncomfortable the entire time. Sokka: And that’s why I’ll be right there with you). They leave next week and head to the bigger settlement. Sokka stays with Azula so she can be sure the place is locked and protected in case they need to return. From there, he takes her hand and they walk away.