#it's like my brother is always given the benefit of the doubt and my mother can do no wrong so that leaves me to blame?

[royalberryriku]

You ever make an observation and it's really sad and heartwrenching that you gotta just. Take a minute and be like "surely not"?

[akoyaxs]

˚༄ Tìyora Pt 2 ༊ Aonung x Fem!Sully!Reader ༊ Enemies w Benefits ༊ 5.6k words Warnings: arguing, Aonung is a little shit, reader is a little bit bitchy, oral (fem recieving), edging, p in v, THIS WILL BE A SERIES!!!! *Note that reader is practically Neytiri's twin, like mother like daughter. I chose this photo bc when writing I like picturing an OC or different face in my mind, and this one looks different enough from Neytiri's other scenes, but similar enough that reader has all the good Sully genes*

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You don’t sleep well. It’s not surprising, given that your body’s aching from your fight with Aonung, and you other… rendezvous, and when you finally can’t take the uncomfortable tussling on your sleeping mat, you let out a soft hiss and sit up.

The light permeating through the gaps in the marui’s weaving is watery and cool and dim. Not quite moonlight, but you doubt the sun’s even broken the horizon yet.

You look over at your family sleeping around you. Your parents share a mat with Tuk tucked between their bodies, and Kiri’s curled up beside you, her choppy hair falling over her peaceful face. Neteyam’s on his back, face twitching slightly from whatever dream he’s having, and Lo’ak’s slumbering facing his brother, head nearly lolling onto Neteyam’s shoulders.

You feel a soft pang at the sight of your family, all peaceful and still while you glance over them. All your annoyance at training with Aonung, and your tiredness after the events of the previous day fade away as your mind clears, and you remind yourself of your position in this family.

No one asked you to do it, of course not, your parents and siblings thought it may break you, but you’d always been the protector. Since you were born, minutes before your twin Neteyam came, you knew that it was up to you to defend your siblings, help your parents and do anything in your power to make this family work. If it was a fortress, you’d be the moat around it.

So, gently tucking Kiri’s hair out of her face and hitching Lo’ak’s blanket higher over him and Neteyam, you slip out of the marui into the still, watery morning. The village is quiet; the only sound coming from the gentle waves lapping below the walkways and maruis. There’s no one out, so you take advantage of the emptiness, the first moment of peace you’ve been able to steal since you arrived in the reef.

And there’s one more thing you haven’t done since you came. The one thing you truly loved, that was yours and yours alone. You sneak through the village, wincing at every creak the bouncy woven walkways make with every few steps. You have your bow slung over your shoulder and your knife tucked away into your tewng as you leap off the last platform onto the sand and then finally into the forest.

To be fair, they never said you couldn’t leave the soft beaches and cool water of the bay, to go beyond that line of bright white sand and into the closest thing to home you had here. It’s not like you’re breaking any rules, spoken ones at least, but you can’t help the feeling that you’re doing something wrong, that someone’s watching as you step off the sand.

But once your feet fall on soft grass and the open sky fades to soft emerald foliage, you can’t be fucked to worry. The lapping waves are replaced by rustling leaves and the twittering of hidden creatures, and the salty, tropical scents are replaced by what is distinctly forest. And then finally, a familiar shrieking noise calls through the forest, and your face lights up as you run towards it.

Your ikran is perched in the trees, obviously delighted to see you, though clearly disgruntled she was abandoned for so long. You reach up to stroke her long neck before connecting your kuru and sliding onto her back.

Eywa, you had missed the rush flying gave. The wind in your hair and the twist in your gut as you watched the ground soar past beneath you. The way you could twist and dive and swoop was terrifyingly breathtaking. You let go and let out a delighted cry, flying freely through the sky.

You finally make it past the forest and over the ocean. You swoop in ever widening circles, down and down towards the water. You tilt over the surface so you can reach out and brush the water with your fingertips and her with her wingtips.

As you spiral back up, you spot a very familiar figure gliding through the ocean below you. Broad, tall, hair braided back as he darts through the water on a tsurak. You scowl as he looks down hurriedly as you swoop over him, the sun having risen just enough for your shadow to cast over him.

You both know the other is there, but you ignore it. You continue to fly in wide circles, hair flowing behind you, legs holding tight to your ikran while you let your arms go and catch as much wind as possible. Aonung continues to do whatever the fuck he’s doing below, maybe hunting?

And then finally, you feel your ikran slowing down through your tsaheylu, and with a small sigh of disappointment, you swoop down to the beach below. It’s not the same one as the bay of the village, but it will just mean more time for yourself to find your way back. Unfortunately, there was someone already on the sand.

“What are you doing?” you ask bluntly, when Aonung looks over at you sliding off your ikran and disconnecting your kuru.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, nodding to your ikran. “Got sick of being incompetent underwater? Went for a little walk in the forest?”

“It’s not like I can’t-” you start to say, but he scoffs.

“You can’t.”

His voice is blunt, uninterested. It’s practically a command, and your eyes instantly narrow. You’ve never been good at following orders; something that always drove your dad crazy, something that always made Neteyam try to fix up, though you were a firm believer in dealing with your own messes.

“And who are you to tell me what to do?” you say sharply, eyes narrowing somewhat the longer you stare at his stupid, entitled face. Aonung’s face twists in a lilting grin, eyes trailing up and down over you as he scoffs.

“Your future Olo’eyktan,” he says simply.

“And what happened to me not fitting in, that I’ll never be a part of the clan with my baby tail and scrawniness?” you ask, your growing anger clear in your low voice.

Aonung doesn’t reply, just looking you up and down again, and you decide to stoop down to his level, eyes roaming across him, prepared to find some new insult to hurl if needed. He is admittedly very well built, with a sculpted, solid chest tapering into a slimmer waist, with broad shoulders and strong arms. He is broad and tall, something infuriatingly obvious already knew, but you hadn't noticed the sharpness of his collarbones and jawline, or the way the veins in his arm flexed when he tensed. Well you did, but you only noticed when he was moaning beneath you. And then you flick your gaze back up to him and find him glaring back.

“Are you going to storm off again?” Aonung asks, his voice sounding slightly amused as you turn away and stride away from him along the sand.

“No,” you scowl, trying not to let your irritation show too much. You don’t want him to realise how deep he can get. Under your skin. That’s all. But he seems to guess what you’re shamefully thinking, because his voice sounds even more cocky when he speaks again.

“Do you need some help freak?”

“Fuck off,” you growl, still determinedly not looking back at him over your shoulder as you definitely don’t storm away. “I don’t need help, least of all from a cocky, brainless, dull, oblivious, pestering, rude, taunting, tiny-dick-”

“Right,” Aonung laughs, and you can practically hear the amusement in that deep voice. You can also picture the smirk fixed on those fish lips as he watches you stride away. “Quite tiny-dicked, wasn’t I?”

You turn with a furious hiss, only to find him feet away, laughing at you. His eyes are sparkling with amusement at the sight of you, flushed and irritated and hair streaming behind you. He’s got you right where you had him yesterday, furious and frustrated while he can just enjoy the sight.

“Why are you still so cocky,” you snap, jabbing him in the chest. He doesn’t shift in the slightest, and if anything, he looks even more amused, grinning from at least a foot above. “I won. I beat you every time, but you are just so infuriatingly, incomprehensibly fucking arrogant that anything I say, any time I win, nothing can get into your stupid, cocksure head.”

You pointedly smack the top of his head, and he grins even wider, before reaching out to grab your wrist before you can hit him again.

“Let me go.”

“You know,” Aonung says, fangs glinting in his wide smile as he stares down at you, “you really shouldn’t be attacking your future Olo’eyktan.”

“You really should let me go,” you say bluntly, trying to tug your wrist free from him without looking like you’re struggling. “Before I smack you so hard that you never get to become Olo’eyktan.”

Aonung just laughs, pulling you an inch closer so once again, you have to tilt your head right back to maintain this glare. It seems unfair, that you always have to be the one working to bitch stare this stupid infuriating freak.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means let go of me before I smack your aquatic ass back to Eywa,” you hiss. Aonung’s mouth twitches again, but to your surprise, he lets you go. He doesn’t step back though, and when you try to walk around him, he just grabs your shoulders to stop you passing.

“Where are you going?” he sighs, as amused as ever.

“Away from you,” you snap.

“You’re going the wrong way,” Aonung says, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he glances over your shoulder, and you attempt to shrug him off and continue in your way.

“Like I’d believe you,” you huff. “After you left Lo’ak outside the reef.”

“The village is back this way,” Aonung says tightly, his amusement starting to finally fade somewhat as you finally manage to shove him off and start storming the other way.

“Yeah, I don’t really trust you,” you call over your shoulder.

“Fine,” he shouts back. “Get lost then, I don’t fucking care. Maybe there’s an akula around here that can make itself useful and finish you off.”

At that, you stop. Chest heavily as you suspiciously contemplate what to do, you wonder vaguely why he’d lie. But also, him telling the truth and actually trying to get you back to the village doesn’t seem like a very likely possibility either. You squint suspiciously at him for a few moments, and he just glares straight back. Reluctantly, you let your arms drop to your sides and you do the walk of shame back towards him.

“Decided to trust me then freak?” he asks with a cocky little grin.

“Don’t make me regret it fishlips,” you say shortly.

As you storm away, you can feel Aonung’s gaze blazing into your skin, and after a few moments, you can’t take it any longer, rounding on him with narrowed eyes and folded arms.

“Can I help you?” you snap. “Is there a reason you keep staring at my body, or are you just planning new ways to call me a freak?”

Aonung rolls his eyes, though he looks a little abashed you caught him. When you’re clearly waiting for an response and it becomes clear his little scoff isn’t answer enough, he clears his throat and pastes a frown onto his face.

“You have a lot of scars,” he says, slightly awkwardly.

“Sorry, is that repulsive to you?” you snap. “Are my freakish blemishes blasphemous to the perfect prince? Would you like me to dress like a fucking nun so you don’t have to see my scars?”

“No,” Aonung says, his frown becoming more gentle, though he clearly doesn’t even know what a nun is. “That is not what I meant. I just… some are very big scars.”

“Yeah well,” you say off-handedly, trying not to let some of your bitterness into your voice as you lower your gaze to your body. You’d rather die than let him think you feel sorry for yourself. “You’re very sheltered in the reef, very safe. Not everyone gets that privilege.”

Aonung’s frown becomes a little more comprehensive, and he blinks a little. “What did they all come from?”

“Why are you so curious?” you snap defensively. “Because if you’re going to taunt me about that, you’re fucked up-”

“We have to train together for who knows how long,” Aonung cuts you off, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying we have to get along, you’re probably incapable of holding a conversation longer than two minutes without rage and violence anyway, but if we have to train all the time, I should know if you’re injured.”

“I’m fine,” you say shortly, tail wrapping defensively around your leg. “They’re all old anyway.” When Aonung’s clearly waiting for you to say more, you sigh and continue. “Mostly from training when I was younger, some from my iknimaya and encounters with animals in the forest.”

You hope to Eywa that’s all, because you don’t really feel like going into the nitty gritty of the other ones right now. Unfortunately, Aonung has a knack to do exactly what you don’t want him too.

“And this one,” he says, nodding to your hip. You freeze and shift uncomfortably. It’s hidden, as you’re always careful too, beneath the string of your tewng. A circular marr in the skin between your hip and stomach, perfectly round.

“What one?” you say, hoping he’s not talking about what you think of.

But he doesn’t just say it, point out that you’re hiding it, he reaches out and brushes his finger over the small bullet wound concealed under the delicate string of your tewng. Instantly, you flinch away and hiss, tail flicking up defensively and ready to fight by instinct. Aonung just drops his hand away, and you don’t need to even look at him to know he wants an explanation of it.

“It’s a bullet wound,” you sigh. “I was shot by an avatar in the forest, when we were ambushed. I was hit while escaping with Kiri.”

“Seems like something you should mention,” Aonung points out. “You know, getting shot seems kind of prudent.”

“I’m surprised someone so dense even knows that word,” you mutter to yourself, before speaking so he can hear. “It’s not that important really, I’m more focused on my family.”

“You were shot,” Aonung says, squinting at you as though confused. “And you’re thinking of your family?”

“Yes,” you say defensively, face feeling hot. “I mean, I had to protect them. Kiri and Lo’ak were scared, and I didn’t want Neteyam to get any blood on his hands-”

“And you have it then?” Aonung asks quietly. “Blood? On your hands?”

Your silence is answer enough, and his eyes widen slightly.

“We were at war,” you say stiffly, not quite sure why you’re trying to justify yourself to this skxawng. “I had to kill to survive, and I would happily kill to protect my family. I just did what was necessary.”

Aonung just stares at you. You wonder faintly if maybe you have something on your face, or maybe if your flight had made the wind blow your hair everywhere. Then you wonder why the fuck you’re even thinking about your appearance. It doesn’t make any difference to Aonung what you look like, you’re going to look like a freaky foreigner anyway.

“How’d you even see that anyway?” you ask dully, turning back and continuing to walk. He catches up beside you, staring down shamelessly. You feel a small pang of irritation that he can stare so casually; you’d have to lift your head up to glare at him, which seems like a lot of fucking effort when you don’t even want conversation.

“It’s pretty clear,” Aonung says, which doesn’t exactly clear things up. “It’s all pale and-”

“It’s always hidden,” you say stiffly.

“Well,” Aonung says, a certain slyness to his deep voice that makes you scowl and finally look up at him. “Only hidden when you’re wearing your tewng. So without it- OW!”

You storm ahead, having already whipped your tail across his chest and stomped on his stupid foot. You ignore the flush in your face, feeling stupid that you thought he wouldn’t mention it again. Stupid smug skxawng, needing to remind you that you fucked.

“You’re so childish sometimes,” he sulks, rubbing his chest, which now has a purplish streak from where your thin tail had whipped him.

“And what are you then?” you roll your eyes. “Because last time I checked, I wasn’t chatting about us fucking like some pathetic virgin.”

“You wish,” Aonung scoffs. “I was just saying it was interesting that no one else has seen you without your tewng yet-”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you say slyly. That finally shuts him the fuck up, and he stops dead in his tracks. When you look up to grin victoriously, his eyes are narrowed and his face is deader than you’ve ever seen it. The coldness in his eyes, the anger that you don’t quite understand, only fuels your triumph that you finally managed to wipe that smirk off his face. “What’s wrong? Upset you didn’t get the first hit of the pretty new thing?”

“I don’t like sharing,” Aonung says stiffly, and you scoff.

“Good,” you snap. “Because there isn’t anything to share, I’m not yours. I’m also not some delicate little nun, just because you think I’m a peculiar freak doesn’t mean other people find me unappealing-”

“Who?” he asks, his voice a crisp, cool rumble.

“Like I’d tell you,” you roll your eyes.

“They wouldn’t.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite,” you hiss at his sharp words, stepping in to glare at him. Again. “You’re looking down on your other clan mates for fucking me when less than a day ago, you were fucking moaning under me. You got fucking hard by me shouting at you.”

You expect Aonung to get angry again. He looks like maybe he’s about to shove you, maybe yell at you, maybe even grab your kuru again. There’s a certain dark, cold anger in his eyes, the same one he always gets when this happens, when you’re close to him, shouting him down and glaring furiously. But then his scowling lips loosen into a small smirk, and you brace yourself for some infuriating stupidity.

“I only wish they did a good job,” he says coolly. “I don’t like you, but I can’t have you getting a poor idea of the Metkayina. Honour my clan, protect my people, you know.”

“Your interest in my sex life is suspicious Aonung,” you say, eyes narrowing as you try to figure out what he’s doing. “What should it matter to you? Because I know I didn’t ruin any standards for Omatikayan sex, not with the way you were moaning.”

“Was I disappointing to you princess?” Aonung smirks, not in the least deterred by your dig at him. “And don’t bother lying,” he adds amusedly, when you furiously open your mouth. “I was there. I felt the way you were squeezing me-”

“And you liked that, didn’t you.”

“Yes,” he says, unabashed. He’s staring down at you in a way that makes you deeply suspicious. “But if you want to be pleased, all you have to do is ask.”

“You don’t like me,” you point out. It’s a basic fact, a mutual one at that, and he just nods.

“No, I don’t like you,” Aonung says simply, casually. “But I can’t have you sauntering around with the worst opinion of me. Infuriating I can handle. Taunting, yes. Pestering, I try my best. Cocky, absolutely. But tiny-dicked, or unsatisfactory… I’d rather get shot too.”

“What are you suggesting then?” you say wearily, eyeing him suspiciously as his smirk widens. You didn’t mean to sound quite so open to ideas, but he certainly looked like he was about to suggest the hell out of something.

“Let’s cut the crap. We both left satisfied last night, and don’t lie to my face and pretend you’ve had better. You help me, I help you.”

“And what does that mean?”

“I’m not going to pretend I didn’t have a good time,” Aonung says bluntly, and you look at him in surprise. You weren’t at all expecting him to be so open, and somehow it doesn’t feel as satisfying as you’d hoped. Somewhere deep, you’re too suspicious about what he’s about to say next to feel any pleasure from his words. “And you know you’d be lying if you said you didn’t. No matter how many moans you bit back doesn’t change the fact your lips were bloody from trying to be quiet. Even when you closed your eyes, I could see them rolling back. You weren’t as sneaky as you thought princess, forgetting I could feel you clenching, hear your heavy breaths, your heartbeat-”

“Stop!” you snap, scrunching your face up to hide your embarrassment, to cover it up with yet another wave of irritation and shoving him hard in the chest. “Just SPIT IT OUT!”

“I can help you out,” Aonung says slyly. “And you help me, whenever we need… release.”

“What?” you snap. You scowl, then consider it. He had been good, if you’re listening to him and stop lying to yourself. Not just good. Eye rolly, leg shaky, heart thumpy good. So good that you had to physically bite yourself to stop yourself from letting him know just how good he was. And then you scowl again. “Are you sure you’ll be able to keep up, fish lips?”

Aonung rolls his eyes, but before you know what’s happened, he’s flipped you onto the ground. Body trapped under his, arms pinned above your head. Your faces are inches apart, eyes scanning over each other, his breath fanning hotly against your neck. You’re aware of your situation. He’s smarter this time, legs trapped under him, arms pinned back. You can’t escape. And you aren’t going to flatter him by trying to. Instead, you find yourself nodding imperceptibly, your legs spreading unconsciously. Traitors.

Aonung smirks and hitches himself up slightly so he can slide further down your body. His fingers trail over your body, over your waist and the darker blue stripes across your stomach.

“You’re so strange,” he taunts you.

“Arent you supposed to be proving some kind of point right now?” you point out. “Insulting and freak-shaming me isn’t exactly a great way to get into my pa-”

He’s got experience, that much is for sure. You can tell by his expert movements as he swiftly unties your tewng, or when you shift, and he reaches to pin your hips still against the sand. There’s a moment of self-consciousness where you squeeze your thighs, and he frowns up at you. Then his strong hands are muscling them apart, and before you know it, his face is buried between your thighs.

When his nose nudges again your clit and he licks a long stripe up your cunt, you let out a small hiss and immediately reach to grip at his braided hair. He’s obviously hell bent on proving himself, because when he points his tongue and darts it into you, your hips rut straight into his face. And to his credit, Aonung doesn’t protest or make any snide comment. He sticks to his job, and he does a damn good one at that. Which is infuriating, by the way.

Because he is smug about it. He’s mean with it. He never stays somewhere to long, and when you try to tug his head, he grins against you and closes his lips around your clit and sucks. Hard. In a way that makes your head spin, and the first time he does it, you can’t catch yourself before a loud whine escapes your lips. He ignores your tugging, choosing to move your hips to his leisure rather than putting in the copious effort of moving his now slicked, shining face.

But he knows he’s doing well. He can obviously tell, given the way you’re rutting against his lips and tongue and even fangs as though your life depends on it. When he slides in a finger, you clench so tight to it you might as well have tried strangling him. You have no patience for humiliation, you’ll deal with his certain taunting and teasing once you’ve cum so hard Eywa will blush.

You wonder blindly where the fuck he learnt all of this, and if he usually puts in this much effort for people. Other girls wouldn’t be as difficult to please, you conclude. He’s putting in the fucking work. Stupid skxawng. You’re humping your cunt into his mouth hard enough that you probably would have caused a pretty serious neck injury if he wasn’t stupidly, ridiculously massive, but he’s just pulling your ass even closer to the point your little whimpers that slip through your mouth are audible.

And then he’s pulling away. You scowl and gasp, reaching to tug his head back towards you, but he just laughs crudely and pins you back up against the sand. You squirm and struggle with him for a moment, but when his hips slot between yours and his tented tewng slides against your clit, you’re cut off with a lewd groan of frustration.

“So wet, aren’t you?” he taunts, grinning at your slick smeared across his tewng now. You make to protest, to snap at him or maybe even shout, but his hips roll fluidly against you again and you let out a humiliating whine. “So eager. You’re the fucking hypocrite, whining for me.”

“Fuck off,” you mutter, face flushed and trying to pretend like your voice wasn’t actually as hot and bothered as it came out.

“Just say the words,” Aonung mock-coos. You try to turn away, to break the stare, but his face just follows, and you continue to be trapped in that smug, blazing gaze. “Say them, and I’ll help you out.”

“You’re a fucking perv,” you hiss, trying to level your breath, but his hips roll against you again and your growl is cut off by another lewd moan.

“Last time I checked, I wasn’t the one losing her mind over a few touches,” he grins. “Go on freak, just say it.”

“Fine,” you snap, relenting when he digs you a little deeper into the sand with a slower thrust against your clit.

Aonung smirks, looking infuriatingly delighted by himself. There’s a minute where you want to smack him right then and there, drag him by the kuru and drown him and maybe even toss him off your ikran, but then there’s a deeper, more urgent desire to get your annoyance fucked out of you. Stupid horniness, getting in the way of perfectly logical plans of justified murder.

“What was that?” he grins, hefting you towards himself in a way that grinds him in the perfect spot, and you bite down the moan you nearly scream. “I need words.”

“Fuck me then,” you growl, frustration etched in every fibre of your being, in your words and face and glare. And especially in your aching core.

“On one condition,” Aonung says. He has some twisted enjoyment of this scene, you splayed out and half-naked below him, teeth sunk stubbornly into your lips, yet not strong enough to hold back the stream of frustrated, lewd whines that slip through your obstinate cracks.

“What,” you seethe, seconds away from strangling this skxawng with your kuru. He takes his sweet fucking time before responding, thoroughly enjoying your squirming figure below him as he lazily rolls his hips against you.

“You stop holding back those moans of yours,” he whispers, hot and heavy right against your neck. Where he can doubtless hear, even feel how urgent and desperate your pulse is. “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

You growl in frustration, pushing aimlessly at his shoulders in an attempt to do what you had yesterday, ride him until he was the one moaning and quailing beneath you. But his solid form stays stubbornly above yours, that stupid smirking face grinning right down at you.

“I thought this was about you trying to please me,” you grumble, letting your head fall back against the sand in irritation.

“You really are a brat,” Aonung grunts. His voice is getting more tense, eyes darkening further, and you realise all his attempts to tease you, all his efforts to drive you to a pleading point are edging him in the process. But you don’t have time to think of some sly plan, some way to taunt him later and a clever idea for now. You’re horny and impatient and you aren’t someone who takes teasing kindly. You aren’t one to give in easily, but you’ve protested enough.

“Fine then,” you huff, tossing your head so your hair’s out of your face. “Give me something to moan about, then we’ll see what happens.”

Aonung grins, finally sliding away long enough to disregard his tewng, and then he’s right back above you, lining himself up and holding your hips down to keep you still.

“You want something to moan about?” he grunts, snapping his hips forward in one fluid, deep movement, burying himself deep into you.

And you do. The sound you let out is a hoarse gasp, a breathless cry, but it’s strangled before it’s even fully out of your mouth. Aonung pulls out to the tip, where you’re gripping him so tight there’s no fucking possibility of him slipping out, before pushing back in with the force of a fucking rocket.

You aren’t even sure if you can moan, not when he’s literally fucking the breath out of you with each unrelenting, ravenous thrust. There isn’t much you can do, not much you think you’d be able to do regardless, when you’re pinned below him. You’re just being fucked further and further into the soft white sand, which feels like some ironic comfort to his insatiable pace.

But when he lifts your hips up a little, slamming into a new point that knocks a fucking cry out of you, you find your fist instinctively sinking into your mouth to hide it. Instantly, Aonung’s hand is pulling it carelessly away, eyes blazing as he pushes it away from your now vulnerably empty mouth.

“What did I say freak,” he snarls.

“You’re a fucking sadist,” you spit. “Calling me freak when you’re trying to fuck the breath out of me.”

“Call me what you like,” Aonung says carelessly. “Just don’t hold it back.”

And then, before you can snap back a retort, that familiar heat is growing again. Aonung can feel it too, by the way you’re clenching around him so tight you may as well be trying to strangle him. But there’s certain things you’re still trying to hide, especially now that you can’t even have your moans to yourself.

Like the way you’re watching his muscles ripple with each movements, arms tense and flexed beside you, back rippling and shoulders broad above your slimmer figure. When you think about his hands, the way just one could wrap easily around your whole throat, you moan like a fucking whore and tighten around him in a way that has him groaning.

And then finally, out of nowhere although it was a long time coming, the wave crests, and your vision fades to blinding white. You clench like a vice around Aonung, and he fucks out through it with deep, hungry thrusts. You’re barely aware of the face you’ve never come this hard in your life, or that you’re moaning loud enough on this echoey ass beach that the village can probably hear.

When you finally come down, Aonung’s let himself go. You yelp as he speeds up now, brutal and animalistic as the last tenterhooks of his final restraint snaps and he buries himself deep inside you. He's hissing a million unintelligible words against your skin as he spills himself inside you, rocking his hips the whole time until he finally comes to a shaky stop.

You both breathe heavily for a moment, Aonung having decided to unceremoniously flop onto the sand (which mostly means his massive body is crushing you). When you finally have enough breath, and probably forty perent of your usual life, you weakly shove at him.

“Get off my skxawng.”

He obliges, grudgingly, rolling the last few inches so he’s flopped and spent beside you. Who’s also flopped and spent. Neither of you speak. You can’t think of anything to say, and you wonder vaguely if that’s just you being fucked out or your just lost for words.

“Have an answer yet?” he says after a long moment.

“We have to go to training,” is all you say, sitting up with a groan and sliding on your tewng. Aonung huffs a laugh, also sitting up and watching you struggle to clothe yourself.

“Of course,” he rolls his eyes. “Ow.”

You leave him there on the sand, striding away back to the village before his amused voice calls out behind you.

“You’re going the wrong way again skxawng!”

──────⊱⁜⊰────── ༊ Taglist: @hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re @yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean Okay let me know if i forgot someone hope you pookie pies enjoyed 🙃

[hongtiddiez]

last twilight ep 10 thoughts, feelings, etc

back at it again at the krispy kreme friends. i cried this episode for so, so many different reasons. i'll also show you guys my raw reactions at the end of this, the insanity you guys don't see because i want you to respect me a little.

i didn't make one of these last week because i felt like that episode didn't need any words. some things you just need to feel and to talk about them cheapens what it truly is. that's not to say i didn't absolutely love everyone's posts and meta, i just thought anything i had to say could be felt in the episode itself and i didn't need to fumble my way through it.

Day is so at peace with what is going on and it's so beautiful to see, but the fact that he has to comfort his mother, that she's held onto this delusion that magically everything is going to be okay, is pretty irksome. she's had bare minimum a year, i think nearly two at this point, to accept the truth and she just hasn't and now it's biting her in the ass. but once again, this is something so realistic. i literally JUST dealt with this myself with my mother-in-law in October. once again P'Aof captures the truth of people and our natures.

and it's no wonder things have been so strained between Day and Night. she constantly forces Night to be Day's jailer, to escort him to his cell because the warden said so. it's a horrible position for her to put Night in and it's no wonder he feels so alone and abandoned by his family. it's no wonder Day resents him. Night is trying so hard to make them both love him again and he's been trapped in the middle of a war of attrition and paying penance for something that is in no way shape or form his fault. and then to later learn she HAS blamed Night? it's a horrible situation for him to be in, something he never deserved.

this was so sexy of Mhok, as most things are. you should have been there. it should have been you doing that for your SON. you should have taken the time to be there for him, to see that sight with him, to give him what he wants. but you weren't. you never are.

Day's mom stresses about Day's safety but safety is about so much more than a physical state of being. Mhok has done so much to ensure Day's mental safety and well being, he's done so much to improve Day's every day life. but that doesn't matter to her because she always refused to acknowledge things had gotten that bad. in another life Day never met Mhok and i wonder if things took a dark turn. i don't think Day was on a good trajectory.

here we reach bunn cries phase 1. i was so worried here that Mhok meant their entire relationship but i'm glad to see he just meant this chapter. they've started a new book together; no longer one about a caretaker and his charge but a man and his lover. what a gorgeous way to convey that journey. P'Aof i love you, do you know?

Night, i know i wasn't sure about you for a long time but you've really become one of my favorite people this episode. even Night can see his mom taking away Day's agency, can see her taking away everything Day has become this last year. he doesn't want his brother to disappear again, he just got him back.

god Day's bravery here. he's become so confident, so self assured, because Mhok taught him that he could be, that his blindness didn't make him weak. i know i say it every week lately but i'm so PROUD.

FINALLY SOMEONE SAYS IT. the way she took his phone away INFURIATED ME. you're taking away an important tool of freedom and agency from your FULL GROWN ADULT SON. where the fuck do you get off? and talking about doing things her way under her roof. if it was me i would be out of that house so fucking fast, staying with literally anyone else. the tragic thing is Day doesn't have that option. his disability has left him a victim of his mom's bullshit, given her a huge way to control him. it's disgusting, i'm sorry. i've tried to give her the benefit of the doubt for so long but she went way, way too far this episode.

even Night is sick of her shit and knows this is fucked up. Night once again i'm so sorry i doubted you. he knows how good Mhok is for Day and how good they are for each other. Mhok has only ever been kind to Night and i think that has gone a long way in Night's defense of him as well - not that i think he wouldn't have done it without that but i certainly think it has helped.

and what a fucking breakthrough this was. Day once again telling someone 'i see you.' Day is so good at seeing people once he lets go of his preconceived notions an biases. i can't imagine what a relief this was to Night to know it wasn't just his perception of the situation but something other people see and acknowledge. and he brushes it off, says it's because Day's a crying baby, but they both know that's not all of it.

bunn cries phase 2 is here. i BURST into ugly tears at this moment. it wouldn't be bunn meta if i didn't share a personal anecdote so here we go.

ANECDOTE START ->

i mentioned in my last post, prior to episode 9, that my dad was shit. i'm talking had me, an infant, in the middle of a meth den, in the middle of a raid level of bad. one of my earliest memories is a police officer kneeling down and talking to me while i colored in a coloring book and they searched the apartment. (my mom had no idea until a few years ago when a family friend shared this story. he protected me, thank fucking god.) my real dad went on to get clean (as far as i know) but was emotionally abusive among a whole slew of other issues.

when i was two years old my stepdad came into my life. he would've been just 27 at the time. he fell in love with my mom but wasn't sure if he wanted the responsibility of a kid. my mom said okay and broke up with him. they spent months miserable without each other (they've both told me their sides of this story) until my dad said okay, i can do this, and came back. and you know what? he was amazing. he didn't always get it right but he tried. he stayed up and read me The Hobbit and did silly voices for the dwarves and sang the songs and tucked me into bed and he loved me. (we have matching tattoos from that exact copy of The Hobbit, which i still have tucked away safe.)

we butt heads SO MUCH my teenage years. he had a temper and i was depressed and angry and dealing with so much teenage bullshit. but he still took me to breakfast every sunday, just the two of us, and we'd go see movies together. sundays were our day. he always called me his kid and people joked that somehow magically my mom had his kid before even meeting him. we even look alike. we have all the same tastes.

now as an adult we get along really well. (we still butt heads but it's bc we're exactly alike.) he and my mom have been together almost 30 years. he recently came into my office, a little tipsy, and hugged me and spent almost an entire hour telling me how much he loves me, how proud he is of me, how grateful he is that he had me as his kid, how having me is better than any blood child they could've had. (they tried for years but my parents were never able to have any kids.)

<- ANECDOTE END

some of the best family in the world is those that choose to be your family. i was never his responsibility, not really, but he put everything into being my dad. from just this little statement from Night i see so much of my dad in this moment and i couldn't fucking take it.

Night, i love you. i love you so much. he says it so effortlessly, so confidently. what a man.

so i acknowledge here that their mother is finally starting to get it. she's starting to get things right. she even makes Night's favorite food and makes sure he knows he's loved. she takes the time to try and understand Day, to blindfold herself like Mhok did, etc. and i acknowledge it takes people their own time to come to terms with things, to accept things, and maybe her journey of acceptance was a little longer than others.

however.

this scene shows that she always had the option to cancel. she could have always done this for Day. she could have been there. she could have taken him to the mountain and seen the sunset with him. i have to wonder if Mhok's comment really got to her, i have to believe it did. i think she finally realized that she can no longer be the one that's blind. she has to see reality. it's a big step for her and i'm happy but i'm still so annoyed it took this long for it to happen. but hey - parents fuck up. they do. they fuck us up, even if they don't mean to. once again it's something very, very real from P'Aof, even if i don't like it.

my first knee jerk reaction to this moment was wow, she's infantilizing Day again, but then i sat and really thought about it. in the context of this moment, i think this is okay. sometimes it's just nice to be cared for and Day seems completely receptive to it. fuck, i'm 31 and sometimes i just go curl up with my mom and let her pet my hair, sometimes she makes me my favorite food because she knows i had a bad day, sometimes she babies me a little because she knows i'm having a bad day with my disability.

not everything is infantilization. sometimes it's love and care, the only way they know how. sometimes all you want is a parent's familiar love from years ago. so in the context of everything, i think this was a really nice moment to see, Day taking comfort in his mom's love again.

and despite everything Day still managed to see Mhok, to show him he cares, he thought of him, and wouldn't leave him alone. and then he gives him an oven mitt he made himself, he painted himself, because Mhok took him to learn to paint without his sight. they're so fucking beautiful, so kind and gentle and loving to each other. they're so fucking considerate. Day says you're my sun, i believe in you, i'm proud of you, i support you all in one seemingly simple gift.

i'm reserving my thoughts from the preview for next week but i highly doubt things are going to turn out the way they seem to be teasing. i'll wait to see what happens.

as always thank you so much for reading my rambling bullshit. smooches, take care of yourselves, drink water, take your meds, eat something.

tag loves: @nutcasewithaknife @benkaaoi @callipigio @infinitelyprecious

oh yeah here are my raw reactions before i take the time to really think about everything i've watched.

[keytomind]

INSPIRATION 101

This post will be two-fold. You shall see.

Have you ever felt inspired to do better for yourself because someone that you cared about did not see the best in you?

We can dissect all of the flaws in such a person’s thinking, but rather than doing so, let us use such a scenario as fuel for our growth.

When another person whom you cared for begins to say negative things about you by either hurling insults in your direction or invalidating your beliefs, they are only verbalizing their own insecurities and attempting to weaponize them against you. They will call you weak, soft, stupid, and litany of adjectives that will either bring you to tears or bring you to laughter as they do not know you as well as they think they do.

I have been single for going on six years now. There are times that I am incredibly bored and dissatisfied with my life, but it beats the option of being stuck with a person that you are miserable with, just to have a warm body laying next to you in bed at night.

Shortly after this dissolved relationship, I made the greatest purchase of my life: hold up, that was buying a dog… several dogs, actually. OK, the next best purchase that I ever made was investing in a Peloton. I am at the age where running and other cardio becomes too much wear and tear on my bones and joints, and cycling has become the perfect alternative for me. Rather than purchasing a mountain bike to hit the roads, a stationary bike works best for me as it allows me to avoid making any bullshit excuses, because if I was stuck with only an outdoor bike, it is too easy for me to say that it’s too late, it’s dark outside, it’s cold, it’s raining, it’s snowing, etc. When that stationary bike is staring at me in my living room, it holds me accountable from not getting the work done, and consistent accountability is the determining factor towards achieving results, and results are so fucking addicting.

As I rode my bike tonight, I was planning to only do a short ride to break a sweat. I manicured an incredible playlist to get me going and with each mile that logged in the odometer, it only fired me up to keep going farther. And as I rode, all I could think about was that one person who did not value me in the same light that I valued her. She thought that she knew me, but the truth is that she will never get to experience the best parts of me, and as I continue to work and I feel my core burning and my weight dropping to return back to where I want to be, all I could think was “keep fucking going… don’t stop now.”

The second fold of this piece…

In honor of arguably America’s greatest holiday tomorrow, the Fourth of July, I am only reminded of the greatest man that I have ever known and who I miss in more ways than I can efficiently put into words: my mother’s father, whom I called Pappy.

Pappy was a 17 year old boy when he went to war. He lied about his age because his best friend (his brother) was drafted and he wanted to enlist in order to fight alongside him and protect him. (Do they still make men like this anymore? I fucking doubt it.)

As his grandson, I used to ask him all the time “Pappy, what did you do in the war?” and Pappy always downplayed his role, saying that he was nothing more than a truck driver. He told me that he fought in Germany and that he never saw any true battle, but he had scars that said otherwise and he claimed that it was shrapnel that caught him here and there.

When he passed away at the age of 92, we studied his DD214 (his discharge paperwork) when applying for his military benefits and his paperwork stated that he was the recipient of four bronze stars. This honor is only given to soldiers who exhibited incredible valor in the field of battle. When I shared this information with some of the local veterans that I knew, they were all amazed and eager to learn how he earned them, and they were equally disappointed to learn that he never shared those stories with us, although they understood why. Some of those boys left those stories behind because they just hurt too much and they wanted to forget about them.

As a civilian, even I knew that a soldier is not awarded four bronze stars for being “just a truck driver”. My Pappy was so much more than that. Knowing who he was and what he stood for, I know now that my Pappy was a bad mother fucker who somehow had a heart of gold. He didn’t take any shit from anyone because he learned that life was too short and it could be taken from him in a heartbeat.

As I ride my bike, and as I grow tired in my rides and I consider cutting the ride short or taking break, I remind myself that there were times that people like my Pappy were not afforded such breaks. When he was charging unprotected into battle with artillery flying aimed in his direction, did he get a break? Fuck no. Did he complain? Again, fuck no. This is a man, or a young boy, who lied about his age to fight for his country and to protect his older brother from our enemies. If they weren’t given a break, do I deserve one? Arguably not.

On this Fourth of July, and with an incredibly important election on our horizon this November, make sure you thank a veteran for the freedom that you have today. Work a little harder and give thanks for everything you are blessed with in your life, even if it isn’t much, because you could have so much less, and most importantly, none of us deserve it. We aren’t as special as our parents may have conditioned us to believe as innocent little five year old children. There is always someone out there who has it much worse than we do, so quit your bitchin’ and count your blessings because you woke up today and you are still here.

I will end on this note. When I was a youngster, there was a popular TV show called MASH. It was about a medical unit stationed in Korea that helped care for sick and injured soldiers, and most surprisingly, this show was a comedy.

Pappy absolutely hated this show. It disgusted him to even see it advertised, and when it was, or if my grandparents left the TV on and MASH was about to come on, I used to tease Pappy and ask him if he wanted to watch MASH. Every single time that I can remember, he would get up from his recliner, throw his hand at the TV, and he would mutter the same thing: “there is nothing funny about war.”

These words have so much weight for me today, in ways that I simply could not understand as a child.

As a grown man, I feel horrible for every time that I unknowingly teased him about watching MASH. As I said earlier, my Pappy was a bad mother fucker and you could not convince me otherwise. Enjoy your life, count your blessings, thank our veterans (regardless of however you feel about any wars), and pray for America…. and work fucking hard, because nobody owes you a thing except for what you owe yourself, which is to live your best live.

Love you, Pappy 🖤🖤🇺🇸 and thank you for everything

[opyre]

I finally beat the game for myself ! I had watched @otlaw stream it for me when it first came out , but playing it myself definitely brought about so much more wonder and intrigue to the world and characters for me . I have a lot of thoughts about how I'd like to run this blog and general canon divergences that I wish to piece together for the sake of ease of access for all of my writing partners ! this certainly is not all of them , but they are the ones i've given greater thought to thus far . this is a long post , by the way . . . oops .

triggers mentioned as follows :

parental abuse ( mother , specifically ) , religion , suic*de alluded to but not specifically mentioned , possession

first , i'd like to touch on joshua's relationship with his parents .

his relationship with elwin was a bit more strained than the game let on , or how i imagine the relationship between elwin and clive . i think elwin put a lot of pressure on joshua ( intentionally , or nonintentionally ) and forced him to live in a bubble of burdensome expectation . i think he dearly loved his father , but the yearning for his approval oft made their connections rocky . i don't think they had many heart - to - hearts , but i do think joshua admired him . he loved him , of course , but i don't think he felt safe or appreciated around him , and i don't think they knew much about each other beyond the surface level and their inherited family dynamics . his ' inner voice ' section states : ' i don't want to disappoint him . . . '

his relationship with anabella was complicated . anabella made him feel protected , like he had someone who should ( not 'would' , necessarily ) care for him , and he relied on her heavily . she was the parent he looked to most to care for his needs , but unbeknownst to him , she did not care for many . her interests were always self - serving , but as a child , joshua was blind to it , and when he wasn't , he'd simply deny it in the favor of giving her the benefit of the doubt . because he loves her . as his ' inner voice ' section states : ' she can be scary , but it's only because she loves me . ' we can see in the scene that causes her death how joshua just wanted to save her . he wanted to help her . he believed there was still a chance that things might turn around , while jill and clive simply look pained that he gave her the chance and she betrayed it . again . i believe it was a common theme for them growing up . joshua being anabella's defender . not necessarily speaking up on her behalf , but making excuses to make sense of her behavior . i believe he often read between the lines with everyone , and everything . and still does . and there is certainly more to their relationship and the things she does and what he learns that i think about during his time with the undying , but that's for another post and another time .

on the subjects of his relationships with others , i wanted to point out specific variations that i will be adopting into my portrayal with my affiliates ( of these characters listed ) exclusively and a lot of this is stuff we have plotted out together and discussed .

CLIVE ( @otlaw ) : joshua and clive's relationship has so much nuance to it . they were brothers who were raised in a toxic family environment with very different experiences between their parents , the realm , and their expectations . they love each other so wholeheartedly and dearly , but it also does not undo the tragedy of their pasts , nor the tragedy of the night of flames . they are brotherly in the way that they are so aware of each other's flaws , but so aware of each other's strengths as well . certain jealousies plague them , and their guilt in regards to each other seems unending . they are full of love , but they are so riddled by the bitterness and blight ( figurative and nonfigurative ) of this world and the ways their lives have affected not only themselves , but each other . their paths are so closely interwoven . if i can recall , clive is the only person on their side that we see joshua get explicitly angry with .

JILL ( @glacierites ) : screw what square enix did to jill and joshua for real . first amenity : when joshua first awakens with jill at his side after the 5 year skip , he does not simply brush her aside . he blinks awake in a steady realization of who he is with and why he is where he is , but does not presently realize that it is jill who is kneeled beside him . he is transfixed on helping clive , as he gets up to try to save him , but when jill calls his name , he recognizes her immediately . his eyes tear up and he tells her he will return , before priming and flying forth . joshua and jill have a lot of nuance as well , but get along better than clive in joshua in terms of their similar personalities . they spent a lot of time together as clive trained and sparred and share many sacred memories , secrets , and inside jokes with each other . also . he hugs her before they leave for origin . he gives her the moment with clive of course , but i'll be damned if he will hug dion and mid and not jill . he loves jill . that is his family . that is his sister .

JOTE ( @tutelaris ) : jote and joshua are so much deeper and more complex than canon lets on for me ( and prince , but let me not put words in his mouth , haha ) . jote became a trusted companion of joshua's as she was one of the few among his age group and helped to nurse him to health during his five year coma . after awaking , jote as beside him most every step of the way . she helped him with physical therapy and comforted him ( when he had no choice but to let her ) through regaining tragic memories and the nightmares of his past . they shared many deep moments together as he learned to reconstruct who he is as a person , and she learns that she is indeed a person ( as this is how joshua treats her , not just a subject to the phoenix ) . they are comfortable in silence with each other , but they also share secrets with one another , sacred moments and memories , and exclusive behavior and remarks . i like to think that when clive and jill around the two of them they're like 🤨🤨 also note that while i do ship with prince's jote romantically , joshua and jote do not act on romantic feelings for each other until joshua returns from origin in his joshua lives au verse ( which i will expand upon in a future post ) .

*** i also want to note that i am COMPLETELY open to writing with duplicates of these characters and developing separate plots aside ! i am not exclusive to anyone and would love to explore more potential dynamics !

and now for something completely canon divergent that i just think would make things much more interesting : joshua can commune , at times , with the phoenixes of eld , his forefathers . he has always been in touch with his powers , but truly awakened to the phoenix at age seven , two years before the remembrance ceremony . during the awakening to the fullness of his power , he entered a vision - like , dream - like state where he was held in a center room within his mind ( reminiscent of the ruins at phoenix gate ) as his forefathers granted him advice and gave him warnings of the future and what the power of the phoenix truly entails . they spoke much on the healing , and protector aspects of things , solidifying his resolve to one day become a person who can protect the people he holds most dear . but really , to protect everyone he is able . i like to think that they can speak to him , but he cannot speak back , and they only speak through his mind in these visions , when the calling becomes extremely important . it does , however , take a physical toll on his body , oft knocking him from his feet and sending him to his knees in confusion and slight agony and pain .

on the subject of communing with spirits and perhaps , gods : i'd like to think that joshua housing ultima inside of his body did things not just to his body but to his psyche as well . i don't think ultima ever possessed him by any means , like , joshua was always in control of his body and his actions ( illness(es) aside ) , but i think he'd see pieces and fragments of the fallen , memories of ultima's in his dreams , and random glimpses of the fallen and origin .

and while we're talking about 'religion' : i think " the founder " or the man who founded the twins , became someone idolized and almost worshipped over time . he became a legend that was voiced into a god by centuries of cult - like religion that eventually became regionalized as a mass understanding of his sanctity and their gratitude toward him . i think this is why they often use him name in exclamations similar to ' by the [gods]* ' , ' thank the [heavens]* ' , or simply , ' founder ' in a sigh of relief . ** could be substituted with the way they use ' founder ' .

[trigunwritings]

Wait, you like Knives? Dude, he is my favorite! We share a braincell! And with that braincell, please show me some of your headcanons for Knives! Thank you so much.

I do in fact adore knives, he’s just the type of antagonist that makes my brain to brrrrrrr, especially his characterization and motivations from the manga—hopefully Stampede will bring something cool to the table for him! My personal interpretation is a mix of the two for now, but details from the manga are kept vague if needed👌

-

Knives is a complicated individual. A lonely individual. But where Vash hides his pain and anxiety behind a thick facade of humor and light-heartedness, Knives buries it beneath an entire sea of hatred and fear. Humans are wretched, despicable creatures after all in his mind—they have to be, given everything he’s witnessed, everything he’s seen about them. He has to be predator or prey, to use or be used in turn. To him, there is absolutely no alternative; the possibility of being hurt and used and betrayed isn’t worth any joy he might have gotten by being quiet and complacent about the sins he knows humans are capable of.

Where Vash has a savior complex, Knives has a god complex, though they are incredibly more similar than they are different. Both are fueled by fear and loneliness, but shaped differently by the experiences both brothers carry with them from their time as children aboard the SEEDS ship. Knives has to believe himself to be stronger and better than humans, as otherwise there is always a risk that he could be hurt by them, used like a mindless tool for their pure benefit. But at the same time he is so different from his fellow plants—a rarity among rarity—and he craves for some sense of family even if he doesn’t admit it. Even if it’s all pretend. Even if it means he’s playing god to people who still use him, to some degree, for their own gain.

Knives doesn’t like to be touched—he keeps himself at a distance, keeps a literal and metaphorical shield around himself because of that. Humans can never be trusted, even the ones who get on their knees and call him a god. He has to be wary. Lonely. Because of that, the man simultaneously craves for the touch of another being, but fears being hurt by it so much that he’d rather neglect that physiological need.

There was a time when he was younger that he tried to find a semblance of companionship with another plant—just a hug, all he wanted was a hug from a mother who would tell him everything is alright… but it turns out that he can’t even do that. The incident has left him with nightmares to the present day.

Far in the future, Knives does have a dream. A dream that he can one day live without fear and anger, live as a creature not of scientific intrigue and caution, but as just… him. Just another among people like him, ones who don’t look down at him, don’t look up at him, just… see him truly and completely as an equal without the risk humans carry in being such destructive, complicated creatures. He believes, truly, that’s it’s a sin unique to them, as it’s the only way to rationalize all the memories etched deep into his heart.

Deep down, farther than he’d ever admit to even himself, he knows such a dream is impossible; but he dreams anyway, if only to keep away the echos from his distant past—echos of guilt and doubt.

[suffering-is-cute]

i grew up knowing that it wasn't okay for me to be the favourite. my grandmother liked me better than my brothers so I got a larger share at meals. maybe it was the guilt over giving my mother smaller shares than her brothers when she was still living in their house. maybe it was because I was quiet and shy.

my mother would ask me to split what I was given equally. what I was given was taken and redistributed from me. from a young age I was aware that what was mine was not mine to keep. I always kept a careful eye out for the balance, aware that if it seemed I had too much, it would be snatched from my grasping hands. not good to get too greedy. not good to get used to luxury.

everything you earned should be shared with those by your side.

i grew up knowing no everything that looks good is good. sometimes gold is just pyrite. sometimes grass isn't really green. so i lied to give the other party the benefit of the doubt. i made out that all i saw was sparkle.

i kept a careful eye out and i let go of the things i could stomach letting go of before what i actually wanted was taken from me. i hurt myself first to prepare for the inevitable. i grew up believing it was wrong for me to have extra; knowing how to survive. i am very little soft edges and mostly compromise and smiling pretty lies.

All manipulation, all hard corners rounded with stiff fancywork. I am lace starched stiff. I am a lean cat starved to thinness. I can't remember the last time someone actually hugged me without flinching, without drawing back. I never felt like I deserved more than the bare minimum and people could be surprised and how stark I was deep under all my dreams.

Here is the truth, dreams is all I have. I hope that will explain to you why I am needy and clingy. I hope you do not look away from me when I am shoveling delicacies into my mouth. I am ravenous. This starvation is a part of me, too.

If I was able to reach for anything whenever I wanted, perhaps I would dream of less.

I was brought up on the border of the war between my selfish castles in the mirror of the water, the silent dreams given over to the surface of the bath in the tub, the mist on windows drifting down with my touch, and the hard silence that shut me down like a guttered orphan, the forced quiet before a program begins.

The worst kind of wrong is one done with a good reason.

I grew up poor. It has shaped me, this poverty.

[amanitaoneday]

One day I reminisced about the past

S A T U R N

"I don't get you alright?" She walked away from me, clearly frustrated. I should care more but I couldn’t. "I know you're a good person and I know you mean well but I can't keep waiting for you to come back late at night. What are you even doing when you're gone?" I couldn't answer. I felt like this had happened before.

'What are you even doing?'

"I'm sorry. I just need to get air sometimes."

'You always come back smelling like a bar.'

"Saturn I've given you the benefit of the doubt and trusted you but you can't keep leaving me." She stood there crying. I wanted to comfort her but it felt like my feet were glued to the floor.

'Why are you getting mad at me? I asked you a simple question!'

"I'm sorry." She sighed.

'Then just leave me alone if you wanna be like that!'

"So am I."

His words echoed in my head as if these moments were similar but I didn’t want them to be.

"Mr? Mr!" I groaned.

"Mia leave him alone." That voice.

"Why’s he sleeping on your bed? Is he your-"

"Miss Mia thank you for reminding me to walk you to the bus!" I smiled.

I heard feet shuffle then a door open and close. I slowly sat up and looked out the window.

"It's snowing?" Will he be okay? He doesn’t even like the snow.

I sat on the couch and grabbed my computer dragging it to my lap already feeling unwilling to work. I stared at the empty page trying to think but honestly my brain is empty.

"You're still here? I'm shocked honestly." I sighed. I felt something weigh my shoulder down slightly. “What are you doing?" I turned slightly and saw him lift his head up. “Are you writing again?”

"I don't write." He smirked. “I’m serious." He patted my shoulder then walked away.

"You don’t need to hide it from me." I heard him say under his breath. "Don’t be an ass." I put my laptop to the side and turned back to see him flipping me off.

He rounded the couch and sat next to me. "Why don't you take a nap?" He yawned. "It'll help you be nicer." He closed his eyes.

"Don't you have a painting due today?" He opened his eyes. He looked at me with wide eyes.

"Shit yeah I'm surprised Tessa’s not blowing up my phone." He got up quickly and walked to the door.

"Coat!" He’s so forgetful.

He stammered, "I-i know I was just grabbing my keys!" He wasn't. He made an annoyed face towards me before grabbing his coat. "Don't bother me and go back to whatever you were doing." Then he walked out.

Sometimes I like to write in this blog where other people vent and share things they were thinking about that day. I used to write in high school but I don’t write as much lately since-

I sighed and rubbed my face in frustration.

'Have you ever felt useless like a paper crane-'

‘Stupid.’ I repeatedly pressed the backspace.

'Growing up always felt like an ocean. Empty but full of things that are unknown even to us-'

It’s definitely been a few years since I've written all deep and poetic. That’s how it was in high school at least.

I groaned and pushed my laptop to the side again. It’s no point I haven't written in years and all my ideas are something a middle schooler would write. Taking a nap might help?

"It's nice to finally meet you! Saturn was it?" This lady seemed cheerful.

"Yes it's great to meet you-"

"Lily! I'm Sock's mother. It's nice to finally meet one of his friends. I was starting to believe he made you up." She wore a big smile. She seemed super nice and outgoing, very different from Sock. Almost makes me wonder how she’s his mother.

"Mom who was at the door?" This girl peeked her head out of the corner.

"Your brother's friend. Laurie, can you show him to Sock?" She furrowed her brows like she was mad to see me then walked away.

It seemed like she didn't want me here.

"Sorry about her, she doesn't like people. Socks' room is upstairs down the hall on the right." I nodded and noted to myself to follow the instructions so I wouldn’t get lost. Their house was bigger than mine.

"Thank you." I walked by her and up the stairs. I stood at the top looking around.

It was dark and empty.

Do they always keep their house this dark? My sister always leaves the lights on so this is kind of scary compared to the constant light I see. I sighed and made it to the room Lily told me. I opened the door but no one was in there. I turned to the side hearing voices in the door next to his.

"-don't! Just leave!" Out came Sock then the door slammed shut. When he turned and made eye contact with me his eyes widened and he gave a shy smile.

"Let's go to my room! I have to-" he started coughing. "I have to show you my dinosaurs!" He continued saying. He started talking really fast like he wanted to change the conversation.

"Are you sick?" He turned and furrowed his brows.

"No I don't think so." Maybe he's never gotten sick before?

His cheeks were flushed and he would cough slightly every once in a while. He grabbed my hand and pulled me into his room.

"Come come! This is my desk! And my rug! And my dino-" He started coughing. I was concerned but he said he wasn't sick.

I'm not sure he knows what it means. Surely he's gotten sick before. How could he have gone this long without getting sick?

I pulled him to his bed and told him to lay down and that I'd take care of him.

"You don't feel good right?" He shrugged. I sighed then got in the bed and snuggled under the covers with him. "Don't move or it'll make it worse. My dad says nothing good comes with getting sick. I'm not sure what that technically means but I assume it's not great." He turned and smiled. That's when I noticed he had a bandaid on his cheek.

"I don't get what it means either but if you think it's bad then I think it's bad too." He said with so much confidence.

"What happened to your cheek?" He furrowed his brows then widened his eyes.

"My cat scratched me!" He said all worried. "He’s big and scary but he's very nice." But he told me he doesn't like cats. I don't think he even has a cat. "You're making a weird face." I gave him a soft smile.

"Next time it scratches you then tell me and I'll protect you." I wanted to protect him. I don't believe he got scratched by a cat but if he's telling me it was a cat then I'll believe him for now.

"Hehe big brave Saturn coming to m-" He started dozing off. "Hero-" He fell asleep.

I looked around and just noticed how dark the room was too. The curtains were closed except for the little bit of sun shining through.

"-ket? Hello?" I quickly opened my eyes. "I asked if you needed a blanket. You looked cold sitting here, your eyebrows looking angry with your crossed arms." I was greeted with grey eyes staring back at me.

"What? No, I'm not cold." I sat up and rubbed my eyes. "Did you finish your painting?" He groaned then sat down next to me slumped in the seat.

"I got halfway through then Tessa just had to call me and tell me to hurry up and now I don't wanna finish it." He hates being told what to do.

I could tell he was reluctant to talk to me about me being gone and why I left. I could tell by his mannerisms and how he made small talk with me. It's like he's here but in his mind he's distancing himself from me.

He used to never do this but I guess this is what I get for being gone for two years.

"How was your nap?” I made eye contact with him but he looked away quickly. “It's been a couple hours." He rested his chin on his knees and started messing with the bandages on his arm.

It's not like I couldn't tell he was sad with me. I've known him for years obviously it's natural I would know something was wrong. He probably thinks I’m going to leave again; maybe that's why he's been on edge around me? He never fully looks at me just like if I was a ghost that maybe if he ignored my gaze I would go away

"Tiring." I looked away and started messing with my fingers. Maybe whatever I was thinking was useless like all the other thoughts. I might just give up on writing after all.

"You're making a weird face." I turned and saw his grey eyes staring back at me.

"No sorry I was just thinking." He squinted at me before turning away. He hunched over his knees again.

"You don’t need to tell me everything, I don’t expect you to.” He turned to the side where I couldn’t see him. “I know things have been awkward but I know no matter how hard I hope for us to go back to the way we were before you left I just can’t.” He spoke softly as if he was hoping I wouldn’t hear him but how could I not? "I should get back to my painting.” He groaned and changed the subject. “I don't wanna do this." And now he's complaining.

I decided to not say anything about it.

"You had two weeks to finish one painting. You're just now doing the painting." He flopped on the couch being dramatic.

Maybe he really didn’t want me to hear and if I said something he would push himself further away and I don’t think I could handle that right now.

"Fine, I'll finish it. This is the last you'll hear of me. I'm done talking." After that he didn't say anything. He grabbed his coat and walked out leaving me alone with my thoughts.

"They want you to write for their old blog?” She smiled at me. “I remember reading your stuff in high school! I really loved the very detailed piece you wrote when you were-" I shook my head.

"Don’t say what I think it is." She rolled her eyes and smiled. “I haven’t written in years. It was just a hobby back then and I’ve been busy lately with modeling and-.” She sighed. I could tell she really wanted me to do this. I know it wouldn’t turn out well but I knew she thought differently.

"The parties?” I looked away not wanting to admit that. “Your pieces when you were in high school were beautiful.” She was still hopeful. “Look it doesn't matter what you write as long as it's good and from your heart. They remember you, that has to count for something?” I rolled my eyes at my manager. “Even if it was just a hobby it was something people looked forward to. It’s up to you to write for their blog but I know it would turn out great."

I have a hard time believing people would actually like my writing. Part of me thinks they don’t actually want a piece from me and they’re just doing this because they haven’t heard of me in forever. Maybe I should just push it to the side and focus on writing?

I sighed then grabbed my laptop yet again today.

"I said not to open them!" He hid under the blanket.

"Boys, what is going on?" I turned and saw Lily.

"Curtains! Saturn opened the curtains!"

"Well Sock is a crybaby." He came out from under the blanket and gave me an angry look.

"Well you're a jerk!"

"Okay stop calling each other names! Saturn we're going to close the curtains. Sock you're going to apologize for yelling." After that we reluctantly made up and laid in his dark room. He kept his back turned on me.

"Why don't you wanna see the snow?" He didn't say anything. "You can trust me, you know? I thought I was your friend?" He turned around and looked at me as if he was about to cry.

"You are my friend." He hugged my arm. "I'll tell you but it's silly so don't laugh!" I nodded.

I wouldn't make fun of my friends.

'When it snowed you could see the smiling children, the cold and tired ones, and the playful ones but they never tell you about the sad ones.'

"You don't wanna play outside? A lot of kids our age would kill to play outside." I peeked outside to see kids throwing snowballs at each other.

"I don't like the snow. I get sick easily, remember?" But that wasn't the reason why.

'The ones that lock themselves away when they see a glimpse of the white freckles outside, the ones that hide in fear. Maybe returning memories that were once forgotten or ones that were never forgotten to begin with.'

"One day I'll make you go out and play in the snow with me." He looked up from his food with this look in his eye.

"That'll be the day I forget." I furrowed my brows. "And when I'm happy again."

"I thought you were always happy. We're you lying to me?" His cheeks flushed red. He put his head down and continued to eat.

"I am when I'm with you so maybe if I went out with you it wouldn't be so bad."

'The ones that locked themselves away wouldn't forget though, that feeling of fear and sadness whenever they saw the first drop of snow.'

"Peeking through the curtains isn't going to make it stop snowing just cause you wished it would." He turned to look at me with wide eyes.

"N-no I was just double checking." He walked away from the window and came back to the bed. He sniffled and coughed lightly.

"You're already getting sick?" He turned away from me.

"I don't wanna get you sick." He always gets me sick.

'They would be the hopeful ones but just hoping it would end.'

I walked in his room to see him lying in bed staring at the blank wall.

"Bad day?" He moved just his eyes up to see me then looked back at the wall. "Wanna cuddle?" He nodded slightly. He turned and moved towards the wall making room for me to get in.

"Was it 'the cat'?" He didn't say anything but I knew he knew what I was talking about. His silence always spoke louder than any words he's said. His silence was scary sometimes. If he wasn’t yelling at me then I knew something was wrong. It scared me.

He gripped my arm. He brought it closer to himself. All I heard were the soft hums from the heater and his sobs he tried to silence.

"It's okay. You can let it out." He turned to face me and hugged me so tight I thought I’d stop breathing. I didn’t mind though if it meant I was with him.

'It would eventually end but never when they wanted. The sad never win. There will always be the stories about the happy kids but never the sad ones.’

"Tessa didn't call and I finished the painting on time so she should be pretty happy with m-" I closed the laptop and turned to face him.

"You look nice." He furrowed his brows. His cheeks flushed red and he turned away from me.

"You're weird." He quickly went to the kitchen to avoid me.

“What are you looking for?” He sighed and took his shoes off. He slowly made his way towards me and sat next to me.

We sat in silence like we had done so many times. At this point it was getting frustrating.

I don’t know why he is the way he is or why our brains are hard to understand. I want to know him better even though I’ve had so much time to get to know him already. I wish things were different.

“You look nice too.” He nudged me. “Jerk.” Any doubts I had were gone and I felt like part of me was okay with him like when we were kids.

“I want to tell you things and I want to go back the way we were but-” He stared at me like I said something wrong. “-but I know-”

"No.” He got up and started walking to his room. “Now isn’t a good time to talk.” Then he left me by myself again.

Suddenly my doubts returned and I remembered we were not kids anymore and he's still mad at me.

“It never is.”

[uramitashi]

when my friend implies a boy we know is a misogynist, i still have the impulse - you know, to defend him. To say "he's actually not that bad as a male, he's one of the good ones!"

i used to do that all the times when i was younger; i learned it from my mom. I remember being 12 and asking my mother why, why those nude photos of a girl my age circulating are embarassing for her? Why is it not embarassing for the boys who look her up? And my mother having to explain to me, men don't care about you as a person that much. Men will masturbate on the photos of 12 years olds - you included. I remember asking but is dad too? but is my brother too? how can i trust them if they are like that? and with an almost offended frown, she'd snap at me with an oh, but not all men are like that! Why would you even think that?

Growing up, she would do it all the time. Boys being pigs and my female classmates being groomed were just me exaggerating, me acting too much like a radical feminist instead of a normal one.

My mother has hated, without fail, every single one of my boyfriends. She would always remark that i am way, way better than any boy i have ever given attention and they should be grateful someone like me even looked in their direction. But oh how drastically did this attitude change, when i was the one venting about them. How i would become a stuck-up, exaggerated nagging girlfriend who can't accept that no one is perfect and men are just kind of worse than women. How everytime i would lament some sort of injustice - from my brother, from a boyfriend, from a male friend - she would be on first line defending him with sweat and blood. They are not all bad, you know. Give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he means well. Maybe you are exaggerating.

A boy in my uni college acts like a textbook misogynist. He uses girls for their body and services, openly insults women. Some of my old male friends have a single recurrent topic: insulting women. My mother speaks within me: but maybe he's not a lost cause. Maybe they are just dumb in a teenager way and will grow out of it and don't really mean it in a way.

The voice of my mother is the one of a scared girl who can't stomach to see the bigger picture of men's behaviour, of a girl who just want to coexist with them freely; but i have the moral duty not to inherit that.

hes even worse than i thought. maybe he is the one we should stay away from.

[brokenthimbles]

12 - In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been?

19 - What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

24 - How quick is your character to trust someone else?

29 - What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?

33 - In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

37 - Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?

42 - Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?

45 - What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

12 - In what situation was your character the most calm they’ve ever been?

“Other than the near cationic state after my capture? When G was ….. hurt. I never knew my job, my duty, so clearly. Nothing was going to keep me from being at his side, or doing my job. The whole world came into complete focus…..

Or really, when he’s pulled me into his chest. Sitting on the floor near our fire place, a book in my hand as I read aloud. The whole world falls away and it’s just peaceful, quiet, perfect moments……”

19 - What is your character’s biggest relationship flaw? Has this flaw destroyed relationships for them before?

The need to protect, to mother, to give all of herself in order to be what her partner needs. This flaw doesn’t so much as destroy her relationships, but rather destroy her when she is with a taker. Someone who doesn’t also give to her…… which is why Alf and G have become such important people. They give as much as they reluctantly receive. IT’s balanced. Not like when she was with a Peter or a Thomas.

24 - How quick is your character to trust someone else?

“When I was young? Yes. Trust was easy to come by. Not so much now. Call it being older, wiser….. or traumatized…. Trust is not so easily given not true trust. Benefit of the doubt, kindness, always…. But to trust with all I am? It takes time, or I guess a grand gesture of proof. “

29 - What did your character dream of being or doing as a child? Did that dream come true?

“A mother…….. sadly no.” she hums. “There were some injuries and I was told it was impossible… then you lose….. no. But I became a nurse so I’m like everyone’s mum…..”

33 - In the face of criticism, is your character defensive, self-deprecating, or willing to improve?

 Smiling she whispers. “Happy are they that hear their detractions and can put them to mending.”

37 - Is your character more concerned with defending their honor, or protecting their status?

“Honor above all else. Ultimately we must live with the choices we make, and all we truly can control is our selves. Honor… duty are a key foundation for me.”

42 - Has your character ever had a parental figure who was not related to them?

“A detective named James. He was one of the men who found me after I was taken…. After I killed…… he helped me as a child understand what had happened…… I still visit his grave from time to time.:

45 - What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

“I don’t know…… I don’t think this is it…. If feel my brother… others I’ve lost. There, maybe we become memories, stories, heaven? Souls….. I do believe we have souls…. What they become I know not, and it does scare me….. not knowing, but to die would be an awfully big adventure, just not one I’m ready to embark on any time soon.”

[mmhaterade]

The 2023 Hater's Guide to the East Region.

This blog is not in any way affiliated with the NCAA, its entities, subsidiaries, or member institutions. This is a humor site and should be treated as such. We're all on our way out -- act accordingly. 

1. Purdue (29-5). Since the 1993-94 season, Purdue has been undoubtedly much better in men’s basketball than their fellow in-state rival Indiana. During this time, the Boilers have 635 wins (580 for Indiana), 7 Big Ten championships (3 for IU), 22 NCAA tournament appearances (18 for IU), 10 Sweet 16 appearances (4 for IU), 3 Elite 8 appearances (1 for IU), and a whopping twelve top-4 seeds in the tournament (3 for IU). Purdue has also been lucky enough to have employed just two head coaches during that time, while IU has cycled through the husk of Bob Knight and four other coaches (now a fifth). And yet despite turning into a juggernaut and dwarfing all the success of their hated rival…IU still lives rent free in the head of every Boiler fan. Rent free because this team will ALWAYS be the little brother to Indiana basketball. 

2. Marquette (28-6). Marquette is good for a Final Four run once every quarter of a century. Unfortunately, we are still five years away from this inevitability, but any showing other than last year’s evisceration at the hands of North Carolina would be a welcome sight for a program forced to endure Steve Wojciechowski for seven (!!!) years. Holy shit, he was there for seven years?!?! To experience Wojo’s coaching is to know what it’s like to wear a ball gag combined with a Roundy’s paper bag (with no holes) over your face. This year’s team was picked to finish ninth in the Big East -- by a bunch of idiots who underestimated the magical power of 77 ounces of Real Chili. No school has a cooler victory chant than “Ring Out Ahoya,” and fuck you if you think otherwise. P.S.: Tyler Kolek has previously or is currently finger-banging your sister.

3. Kansas State (23-9). Reading about this squad’s history is simply depressing, considering their best run (Elite 8 in 2010) is better known for a double-overtime thriller where Gus Johnson orgasmed on live television. If you search “Kansas State men’s basketball history” on Wikipedia, you receive an error message that redirects you to the page for the Kansas Jayhawks. SI once published a fluff piece on famed wide receiver Jordy Nelson. The author loves to visit abandoned farms, pull down their pants, and rut mud. Wait, that may actually be a sociology class at K-State.

4. Tennessee (23-10). Historically, Tennessee ranks third in the SEC in all-time wins yet has only one Elite 8 appearance and has only won their conference tournament twice since 1943. Sounds like Kentucky has owned the shit out of them for the last 75 years! Their Wikipedia site also asks if you meant to search for their women’s team, because of course you did. Speaking of them, do you remember Tyler Summitt? Are you wondering how he is doing after being named a head coach at such a young age? Well, he had an extramarital affair with one of his players, his wife was criticized for mentioning she hired him as an assistant at the Ohio high school where she was employed, and he’s receiving his mother’s state pension which will pay him $173,000 a year for the rest of his life. I hope he gets pegged by Ron Jeremy wearing a barbed wire condom.

5. Duke (26-8). My greatest regret in life is that they were not the first #1 seed to lose to a #16 seed. Do you want to know why people hate Duke? It’s not just because they win a lot of games, are always given the benefit of the doubt, and are ESPN’s favorite team. The real reason people hate Duke: every single person associated with this school, be it their faculty, staff, alumni base, fans, or even tangential supporters is a sniveling asshole. Fancy yourself not giving the proper respect to the Blue Devils for a 26-win season or an inevitable march through a mirthless conference tournament? You can fully expect to hear some sanctimonious whining until you bend the knee. Coach K retired last year and yet he will not GO AWAY. He is the Jason Vorhees of college basketball. They are going to trot Mr. King of the Assholes out for every UNC/Duke rematch for the next twenty years; after he dies, his goddamn casket will be wheeled out to the court. I have nothing good to say about this vile school. Fuck this fucking team forever.

6. Kentucky (21-11).

7. Michigan State (19-12). Tom Izzo is 68 years old but looks 88. Just look at him – he looks so inept; you can almost picture him trying to use FaceTime while screaming a spiel of f-bombs. The former Division II All-American has never left the state of Michigan save for a two-month stay as an assistant coach at Tulsa back in 1986 (Editor’s note: he is probably wanted for murder there. He has managed to coach the Spartans to eight Final Fours since 1999 (including three straight from 1999-2001) but has one championship (2000) and just one other championship game appearance (2009). Izzo does have an awesome recruiting class arriving for 2023, but in the meantime his best player is…Joey Hauser? Joey Hauser gets posterized more than Lauren Boebert got raw dogged during her days as an escort. 

8. Memphis (26-8). Fun fact: putting “Memphis State” on the uniforms guarantees you will forget about the vacated national championship game appearance. Memphis? Never heard of them! Memphis State? Yeah, great up and coming program! Completely different school! Derrick Rose? Never heard of him!  The Tigers’ current head coach is best known for starring in a 1994 movie about “blue chip” basketball recruits being paid to attend fictional Western University. Memphis' top assistant coach left his two previous head coaching jobs (at Missouri and Tulsa) amidst NCAA investigations. A perfect fit! The NCAA may be a corrupt, money-grabbing institution, but what kind of illegal activities draw the attention of the NCAA while coaching at Tulsa? Midget strippers for recruits? Dungeon methamphetamine lab? Fans of this team are super into barbeque bukkake.

9. Florida Atlantic (31-3). This is nothing more than a made up college who recruited Smash Williams of Friday Night Lights. Here’s a series of headlines detailing the adventures and exploits of FAU’s #1 fan, Florida Man: 

Florida Man Breaks into Joe’s Crab Shack, Steals Alcohol, Leaves Poop as Payment

Florida Man Busted with Meth, Guns, and Baby Gator in Truck

Naked Florida Man Humps Tree, Punches Deputy

Drunk Florida Man Drives Lawnmower on Highway

Florida Man Gets Trapped in Porta-Potty, Busted for Drugs

10. USC (22-10). Coach Andy Enfield will always be remembered for orchestrating Florida Gulf Coast’s Dunk City. Still amazing ten years later! However, USC is at least the third program in this year’s field to have a “Kevin O’Neill era” at some point in their history. In case you’ve forgotten (and you probably have), Kevin O’Neill got into an argument with a prominent booster from a former employer (Arizona) while coaching at USC. USC has pretty much whitewashed any record of this guy coaching for them but the point remains: if your favorite team has a “Kevin O’Neill” era, your school has made a grave error. Here's former Marquette coach Mike Deane ripping Kevin O'Neill.

11. Providence (21-11). Ah, the luck of the weird creepy Friars. Providence is among the luckiest teams we’ve seen. This should tell you everything you need to know about the best season (last year) in their program’s history. Look at that chart about halfway down, among all the horrible low-level teams, it’s Providence! Not to be confused with the University of Providence in Great Falls, Montana because of their equal amounts of overweight white hags – which is interesting because Providence didn’t admit women until the 1970s. That was not long ago!

12. Oral Roberts (30-4). Oral Roberts was an American televangelist whose preaching emphasized “seed faith” which strangely, has nothing to do with masturbation. Roberts made a living extracting money (er, contributions) from poor folks via direct-mail campaigns, eventually leading a $120 million-a-year organization! Too many religious leaders use their sway as a tool to criticize those they feel are weak-minded or need saving. And they always need money! The late George Carlin once said “Religion convinced the world that there’s an invisible man in the sky who watches everything you do. And there’s ten things he doesn’t want you to do or else you’ll go to a burning place with a lake of fire until the end of eternity. But he loves you – and he needs money! He’s all powerful, but he can’t handle money.” Oral Roberts was no different – the money he raised went towards fine Italian silk suits, diamond rings and gold bracelets (always airbrushed out in photos), three Mercedes cars, and a home in Beverly Hills. Roberts was sued in 1988 by City of Faith Medical Center, who claimed Roberts and his son Richard were frauds who did not visit or heal patients in the hospital. That’s a perfect summation: these Golden Eagles are frauds.

13. Louisiana (26-7). Making their first tournament appearance since 2014, the “Ragin’ Cajuns,” coached by noted Creole chef Tony Chachere, whose roots date back to 1905 when he founded this college originally known as Southwestern Louisiana. They will be a popular pick in the first round due to their surprisingly competitive games as a #13 seed: upsetting Oklahoma in 1992, a five point loss to Tennessee in 2000, and a six point loss to Louisville in 2005 (since vacated). Their beautiful swampland campus features a full-scale hunting and fishing camp. You will remember their most famous player Elfrid Payton as “oh yeah, that one guy!” Whenever you play this team, you receive a free entry into the Tony Chachere's Creole Club.

14. Montana State (25-9). Montana might be a gargantuan place, but there is no reason for this state to have TWO universities, particularly when they both offer the exact same majors of study in Cattle Decapitation, Crisco Wrasslin,’ and Bobcat Normalization. All of their dorm rooms come with built-in sleep apnea equipment. Their live mascot is a 450-pound vegetarian named Lard Biscuit.

15. Vermont (23-10). Beautiful state? Check. Cool college town? Check. Legal weed? Check (if you are 21 or older). Killer mascot? Check. The 2004-05 Vermont Catamounts in the NCAA tournament introduced me to the genius of Gus Johnson. His play-by-play call of this game is sublime; when UVM guard T.J. Sorrentine hit a LONG three in overtime to extend a narrow Vermont lead over heavily favored Syracuse, Gus lost his mind. Given the chance, I would pick Vermont every year in our annual NCAA draft/pool, knowing full well they will not advance. They are allergic to offensive rebounds, have not beat a top-125 team all year, and must be sacrificed to meet Weber's insatiable blood lust.

16. Texas Southern (14-20) or Farleigh Dickinson (19-15). Texas Southern, of the Southwestern Athletic Conference (only two teams with winning records) is becoming a regular “who gives a fuck, we are watching the NIT game instead” play-in team. FDU finished second to Merrimack, losing in the conference tournament final. Merrimack is ineligible for the Big Dance as they are still transitioning from Division II to I. So FDU is fortunate to be playing at all (not for us, they fucking suck)! I wonder if the guys on the teams selected for the play-in games ever feel like Chris Farley’s character in the classic SNL skit Japanese Game Show. No, no…you’re not watching a tournament game, It’s a totally different game!

[impressiverunaway]

It's about that time (part 1 of 2)

That I hear from this "man" again. Like clockwork, he'll come back with some weak apology explaining himself and giving false promises implying things will be better. I've prepped for this. He's fucking weird. He uses people. Has no desire to better his life. Doesn't follow through on a single thing. Going nowhere. I'm not even hurt or offended with his behaviors towards me. I'm appalled and his way of living. Initially, my standards for men had not existed. I didn't care where a man was in life, more importantly what he's got in his pocket. I've learned that I cannot live by that standard to get to where I desire. He's always been someone that's been around. I met him in 5th grade, we had a class together. In High School we had a couple classes together and had a mutual friend group. The type where we had the same friends, but hardly every hung out at the same time. Maybe a few kid parties where the biggest interaction we had was a "hello". A girlfriend recommended that I try dating someone from my past... that was a mess. So back to not having materialistic standards. This permitted me to give a 30 year old man, working at Arby's, sharing a studio with his father, sleeping on a couch, with no car, plays in a band and produces music, a chance. I've given men the benefit of the doubt. I'm also not in the best of places in life, and that is due to a recently diagnosed mental disorder that has made life before extra challenging. I live at home, and I don't have a professional career. I'm also in debt and have struggled financially. In the time I have met him, I have been working my ass off. I got my diagnosis, got stabilized on medication and have been going to therapy. I found a job, returning back to a management position I had once before. Repairing family relationships and friendships. Completely decluttered and organized my living space. Building a healthier lifestyle. Managing my expenses. Researching a return to school. Lots and lots of healthy habits and life improving moves. I have made leaps and bounds within my life in a matter of a few months. He, on the other hand, has not done a damn thing. Not a single sign of real change. All talk. I wanted to help, I tried to in fact. I already know this is the type of man who lived the "anti" "rebellious" lifestyle, on I am sure his parents put their all into parenting him, only for him to turn them down. Now, he is living the "my parents didn't teach me anything, I've been doing this all on my own" bullshit. Would work, if you were actually doing shit with your life. And honestly, I have found my sympathy for others diminishing. I've had a lifelong emotional dysregulation disorder and depression since I was a child, one that has made every area of life for me a challenge. I have a mother that has experienced her own trauma before she met my father and while with him. My father is fucked, and I got stuck with him in the custody hearing. Narcistic, undiagnosed. But something on that level is wrong with him. My mother was a buffer, before she got out. Then I was until i got out. I have a younger brother as well. To this day, we are all affected by this family dynamic. My father has a new wife, that is experiencing the exact things my we experienced. Every time I truly believe my dad has turned over a new leaf, he burns his new image to the ground. Rudely reminding me that he has not changed and bringing up a lot of past traumas and abuse from my past. The last thing I need in my road to fully recovering. Real problems. Real struggles. I am worried, for whatever and whenever this man will reach out to me again. Showing up at my house at 4am was stalkerish. Every day at work I'm half expecting him to just show up. This weekend I'm expecting him to knock on my window again. I'm partially premeditating a punch if he shows up at my house and throwing him out if he shows up at my job. It does suck knowing what could have been and realizing that it's something that would have never worked out. It's sad, knowing that he will never go anywhere in life.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Politics and Violence- Part 1

Pairing: Elliot (Euphoria) x Reader

Summary: Fezco was protective brother, more so than most. But given the state of his job that him and their other brother, Ashtray, run, who could blame her. They had a rocky history as a family between their grandmother falling ill, childhood trauma and the world of drugs. This takes place right at New Years, the night of the inevitable fight between Nate Jacobs and the readers brother, Fezco. That night, she meets Elliot in the laundry room of the bustling house, the pair kicking it off and exchanging phone numbers.

Song: "Rich Girl" by Daryl Hall and John Oates

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Heavy talk of drugs, violence, swearing, mentions of sex.

A/n: It's finally here! I'm so excited to share it with you guys and I hope you all know that I love you ENDLESSLY.

My older brother would tell you that my biggest fault was the fact that I was ‘too trusting’ and that it would eventually be my downfall.

I had always tried to see the best in people. Like the bad people that would show up on the seven o’clock news and the villains in my favorite stories. They had something about me that excited me, a deepness, a story, a reason for their actions. Even the darkest of people had a reason, an explanation, for why they were the way that they were. Even mine and my brother's abusive, narcissistic father. He never wanted kids, he didn’t intend to get my mother pregnant, so his plan was to make our lives miserable for making his life miserable. Granted, I knew it wasn’t exactly our fault but I could still see that humanity in him. Even when he would go too far.

I would stretch myself too thin for those around me, going above and beyond to help the people who didn’t deserve it- deserve me. I never realized, until I was older, that I didn’t owe anyone anything. I just always wanted people to give me the benefit of the doubt if the time came about. So I gave the people around me the benefit of the doubt, even when they didn’t deserve it. Especially when they didn’t deserve it.

My younger brother would tell you that my trust is what makes me likable. It was always something that comforted him, that he knew, no matter what he did or how he acted, he could trust that I would always love him. I was painfully aware that my trusting nature could potentially get me in some trouble.

I would consider myself a nice person, maybe too nice of a person to those around me. I wasn’t gullible or innocent by any means, knowing my worth and that I had the ability to knock someone out if I wanted to. I was brought up with the knowledge that I needed to watch my back 24/7 and that I had to be careful when it came to any positive emotion that I could ever feel. I tried to be careful and maybe it was because of my upbringing, but I couldn’t not depend on people that showed me the slightest ounce of care. I’ve gotten my heart broken a few times because of it, lost a few friends along the way, even gotten into huge fights with my eldest brother because of my trusting behavior. But I wanted my little brother to know that, though we were taught one thing, it was okay to be different. That it was okay to let someone in, to open up and share things about yourself.

The two of them were very bad at that.

Fezco and I were always close.

We were only a year apart in age, our birthdays falling on the exact same day. He had protected me since we were young, never letting our father beat up on me but to choose him instead. He’s always been my rock, the light at the end of the tunnel, my best friend. He was a difficult person to deal with, especially when we were in middle school. He refused to talk, he was impossible to communicate your feelings to, but I couldn’t ask for a better friend and brother. He always took care of me, made sure I had anything and everything that I needed and he watched over me and our youngest brother when other people had let us down.

He’s saved my life on multiple occasions.

When we moved in with our grandmother, I was more than excited. She was spunky, had a massive ego and this attitude that would rock men to their core. She never really settled down after divorcing our grandfather, always referring to him as a ‘sick son of a bitch’. I was excited to be out of our old house, finally safe, sound and happy. We finally had someone to show us the ropes, though they were a bit rocky. She wasn’t the best role model I guess, the police banging on our doors and heavy drugs that were shared being normal things in her life- in our life. We just grew up with it. It wasn’t this taboo thing that we strayed away from and we both were damn good at learning. Fez went as far as dropping out of school to help her, deciding it was more for him than learning equations. Him and I differed in that sense, I planned on going all the way through high school to graduation. Fez and I were both very involved in her drug runs, being her little sidekicks. I loved when she would refer to us as that, the shocked looks that we would get would always make me giggle with pride. No one fucked with us while we were with her, their eyes nervous as Fez and I would dump the drugs out onto the table in front of them.

When Ashtray first came around, I was so stoked. He was this perfect, little baby that I could take with me wherever I went, dressing him up and taking care of him like he was my kid. It wasn’t that far off, he pretty much did whatever I said and he would just follow me aimlessly. I wanted him to feel loved and cared for, even though he probably didn’t even realize what his short life had become yet. But it was hard to not feel terrible, especially when my gram explained that his mom wouldn’t be coming back for him. It broke my preteen heart into pieces to see the infant cry, crying out for anyone to care or love him.

But I did. I loved him more than anything in the whole wide world and I knew that Fez was adamant on protecting the both of us from that day on.

We were both lucky to have Fez because one day, our gram just stopped. I know that Fez holds onto copious amounts of guilt regarding that day. I don’t remember much about her going to the hospital or her coming home. I don’t remember anything of what the doctors told my brother, just that she most likely wasn’t coming back and that we would just have to wait and see. All I knew was that one day she was this spit fire soul and the next day she was comatosed, silent, and none the wiser to my tears. I lost the only woman in my life, the only person who had ever taken care of me other than Fez. Ash wasn’t that old, but he was old enough to understand what was going on. After that, everything then fell on Fez and I; her work in the drug world, grocery shopping, bills, taking care of Ash- It was all on us.

We did good for ourselves, Fez and I taking care of gram as much as we could, getting her the things she needed to be okay. It seemed like we were just preventing the inevitable but I knew that Fez was the one who couldn’t give her up, hoping she would come back to it one day. Ash grew up to become a good kid, rough around the edges and kind of homicidal but, kids, am I right? He turned into a mini Fez, his hair, the tats, his violence and words. He slipped right into the world of drugs with no problem, him becoming even more fearsome than Fez was at his age. I was proud of him. With everything that happened to him, he had every reason to turn out a little fucked up. But instead he was loyal, strong, fierce, and fuck did he protect the hell out of Fez and I.

We were a family, even though we were a bit dysfunctional most of the time. We argued a lot over how we should handle our business so eventually I took a step back, letting the boys take over. I would help them with the behind the scenes stuff, counting bills and pills as they told me about their newest deal or business partner. Ash would always be so excited just to come home to tell me about all that he did, his cheeks red and eyes wide in excitement. It’s one of my favorite times with the boy, seeing him giddy and happy reminded me that he was still a kid. Fez was more of the reserved one, not really sharing much about his day to day life outside of our home and drug dealing life. He had changed over the years, more stoic and quiet now than he used to be and I would be dumb to say that I didn’t miss his old self. The self that would’ve stayed up all night eating candy with me while watching movies.

“Yo, sis, you comin’?” Fez asks, holding his hand out to help me out of the car. Snapping out of my thoughts, I slip out of the car, Fez’s hand pushing the door shut behind me. Ash hops his way into the booming house in front of us, a smile on my face at his excitement. He always liked big parties like this. Between the attention and the money he would bring in, he was like a kid in a candy shop. Fez and I on the other hand weren't the biggest fans of these types of parties. They were just too much and I truly felt like I was moving up in the world, that I had grown out of these types of parties. Fez just came for the money and the drugs, a blunt already hanging from his lips as he leads me through the crowds. He knew I got easily swarmed with anxiety in situations like this, needing to stay close to him out of fear that I would be swept away.

These high schoolers were a different fucking breed with the amount of drugs they did, sex they had, and liquor they sipped. My grandma would’ve liked what teens turned into, their chaotic energy would’ve made her proud.

“You wanna hit?” Fez asks, his nimble fingers handing me the blunt as I let out a brief sigh of relief, taking it gratefully. He just laughs sheepishly and knowing at my nerves, his eyes scanning over the crowd.

I knew from this morning, his angry huffs being heard as he sat at the table, that this party had him on edge. With the recent issues that he had been having with one of the jocks that attends the high school, I suspected that he would get into trouble tonight. He was loyal to his friends, especially Rue, taking care of the girl like he did me. He would rather die than let someone he loves be harassed and mocked by a punk.

But sometimes I wished he would just keep his head down and mouth shut.

My mind spins from the drug as I relax into the couch a bit, my eyes spotting some of Fez’s friends in the crowd. I didn’t have many people that I would consider friends, most of them being Fez’s friend like Rue. For as much shit Fez talks about my ability to trust too easily, you’d think that I would have way more friends than I really do. You’d think that I would be out there, handing my soul to anyone who would hear my sob story and that I would have millions of people swarmed around me. I’m the most introverted out of my family, keeping my head down and my nose out of other people's business. Fez, though quiet and stealthy, has always been the opposite.

The booming music makes me uneasy as my head spins, my stomach swirling uncomfortably. I turn my head to look at my brother, his eyes already on me as his eyebrows pull together. I know that he had contemplated leaving me at home, telling me to curl up in my pajamas and to stay safe. He didn’t like bringing me to gigs like this out of fear that he had to watch me the whole night. But he came to the conclusion that he didn’t want to leave me at home because he didn’t want me spending my New Years alone. The only reason I ever came in the first place was because the two of them wanted me to. Ash never stuck around long enough for me to hang out with him, his crazy-ass always outside with the younger kids, selling them shit and laughing up a storm. He was charming, I’ll give him that. Fez typically stayed by me out of pure courtesy but I know that he wished to mingle, to meet new people. I didn’t want him to feel like I was holding him back.

“I’m good, Fez.” I give him a reassuring smile, my mind spinning with thoughts that say otherwise. He looks unconvinced as he shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders. I adjust myself in my seat, handing him the blunt as I stand, brushing my anxiety off. “I’m gonna go walk around alright?” I offer, watching as he cringes, his eyes swimming with distaste for my idea. His blue eyes shimmer with worry as I roll my eyes, waving him off. “I’m gonna go hunker down in a bathroom or some shit. Play games on my phone- you know me, Fezco. You’ll find me.” I snort, watching as a laugh rumbles from his chest, his eyes rolling playfully as he sends me a stern nod. Making my way away from him and through the crowd of dancing teens, my feet carry me into a vacant hallway. The emptiness soothes my mind a bit as I make my way further into the house with a sigh.

Pushing open the first door that I see, my eyes lock with a boy, his eyes wide as he stares at me, dumbfounded. I hesitate for a moment, my lips parting but no words come out. He just sends me a nervous smile in return, his brown eyes searching through mine. I laugh nervously, my eyes looking back out to the crowd that seems the opposite of enticing.

“Are you trying to find a place to hide too?” He calls out, catching my attention as my gaze flickers back to him, my heart pounding at the sight of his soft smile. Sending him a small nod, my breath catches in my throat as I look over him. He’s handsome- which is a fucking understatment- his eyes are soft, brown and deep as they twinkle. I close the door as he leans against the washing machine behind him, the quietness of the room calming my mind a bit. “I’m Elliot.” He smiles, holding his hand out to shake. I glance bashfully between his hand and his eyes, reaching out timidly to shake it as he chuckles. “You’re quite the talker, aren’t you?” Rolling my eyes, I take a deep breath as I finally find the right words to say.

“I’m Y/n- sorry, I hate parties and I’m really fucking awkward apparently.” I giggle, rubbing a hand over my face as I lean against the wood door behind me. He watches me intently, his lip pulled in between his teeth to conceal his wicked grin.

“You wanna smoke, Y/n?” He asks, the sound of my name leaving his lips making my heart pound wildly against my ribs. Sending him an excited nod, I make my way over to him, hopping up to sit next to him on the appliance. I watch his thin fingers work at the joint in his fingers, my mind spinning to inappropriate places at the sight. He lights it, taking a small hit before handing it to me. He laughs hesitantly as I take a deep breath, holding the smoke in my lungs as my eyes flutter shut. “Fuck, that was a big hit, hot shot.” I giggle, blowing the smoke out into the air between us as he grins.

I’m not sure if it’s the weed or if it’s the pure sex that drips from him, but the way that his blonde curls sit atop his head makes me want to grab onto him and kiss him senselessly. Everything about him was so fitting; his jokes, his voice, his laugh, his hair, smile- fuck, everything. He was comforting but not in the way that typically comforted me, in a different but good way. Fez’s words of warning run through my head as I let myself converse with him more, the hours passing as we sit on top of the washer and dryer.

We’re facing each other now, our knees bumping as we pass the blunt back and forth. “So, tell me more about yourself, mystery girl. I’ve never seen you around here before.” He mutters, his lips wrapping around the joint as I laugh quietly, shaking my head.. “Trust me, I’d remember you if I saw you before.” He snickers, his eyes flickering over my body as my dress suddenly feels way too revealing. In a good way. I wanted him to look.

“Smooth.” I mock, my snickers making his eyebrows sky rocket in shock.

“I think I’m really charming- you don’t think I’m charming?” He gasps with a toothy grin, his lips parting in genuine wonder. I shrug playfully, taking the joint from him as he continues with a scoff. “Fine, what do you think I’m like? What’s your first impression of me?” He asks with a shrug, a laugh immediately leaving my lips as my feet sway back and forth beside him.

“You know that lamb that Mary had-”

“-okay, fuck you.” He cuts me off with a laugh, my head tossing back in loud giggles. I can feel his eyes on me as he shakes his head, clicking his tongue. “Fuck, you’re a brat, aren’t you?” My thighs clench at the nickname, my head nodding proudly as he smirks. A second goes by, our eye contact not breaking as my tongue slips out to wet my lips. He watches my every move, his eyes flickering back and forth between mine and my lips.

“Fine, I’m a brat and you’re way too forward.” I point out, his eyes rolling as he waves me off. I liked that he was forward, it took pressure off of me especially the way his mind appeared to be reading my own. Every word that left his lips was tuned into exactly what I wanted him to say and every move he made was calculated to fit mine.

“Oh, you want me to be less forward? Okay fine- sure.” I can tell that the task would be next to impossible as I watch him anxiously bite at his plump lips. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he inches closer to me, so close but not close enough. “Do you wanna, like, makeout?” He asks as a teasing smirk forms on my lips, my eyes rolling as I reach out to shove him.

“That’s pretty forward, Elliot.” I warn playfully, tilting my head at him as his jaw slacks, a quiet, but forced, moan leaving his lips.

“Fuck, say my name again-”

“Stop!” I giggle, cutting him off as his hands reach out, wrapping around my waist. He pulls me into his lap in one fluid motion, my hands hovering over his shoulders. He stares up at me with pure desire, my eyes flickering down between us as my hips hover nervously over his. His fingers gently knead at my waist, my whole body relaxing into him a bit as I sit myself down. “I’m not normally this forward but,” pausing, his eyebrows tick up as his chest rises and falls in quiet gasps, “I’m perfectly okay with where this is going.” I whisper, his head bobbing in a silent nod, agreeing with my statement.

“I’m not sure it’s a good thing we met.” He whispers, my hands wrapping around his shoulders as my brows pull together in confusion. “I see myself ruining you.” He chuckles, my head shaking at his misplaced anxiety. If anything, I’d ruin you.

“It’s funny that you think you have that much power over me.” I whisper with a laugh, my nose bumping against his as he gasps, his arms pulling me tighter against his chest. I feel his heart thump violently, my proximity making him nervous.

“I was trying to be charming.” He whispers, his breath getting caught in his throat as he looks up at me. “It’s hard to, uh, keep up with you when you’re sitting on my lap.” He confesses, my cheeks warming at his words as I shrug teasingly, not having a care in the world. He pinches my side with a laugh, a small squeal leaving my lips. “Brat.” He mutters, his lips gently pressing against my jaw as I gasp. He takes advantage of my shock, his hands traveling up my body to rest on my cheeks.

Smashing my lips against his, a moan leaves his lips as I pull myself impossibly closer to him. He gasps, his hips jumping beneath me as I giggle, my fingers tangling in his hair. His hands have no idea where to go, both of our minds swimming with pleasure as the taste of weed mingles between us. His fingers dance under my dress, resting atop my thighs as I tug gently on his hair, his head thumping against the wall behind him. I let out a small giggle at the noise, a hushed laugh leaving his lips as I trail my kisses down the column of his throat.

“Fuck, babe- stop.” He mutters, squeezing my hips gently as I pull back to look into his eyes. His pupils are blown, eyes wide as he catches his breath carefully. “Like, don’t stop, but stop or else I’m gonan fuck you so hard and I don’t wanna do that right now.” He chuckles as his eyes flutter shut, the threat making my heart skip a beat. “Fuck.” He reaches up, covering his face with his hands as I snicker, my cheeks flushing as my mind wracks over what I just did. I just kissed a random dude on New Years Eve for the hell of it. Go me. “So, here’s what’s gonna happen,” he pauses, my hands sliding down from his shoulders to rest on his chest, “I’m going to give you my number and I’m gonna get to know you better.” He whispers, a small smile stretching across my lips as I nod, biting at the inside of my cheek bashfully. “Then I’m going to fuck you so hard- shit.” He laughs, my head leaning forward to rest on his shoulder. He just rubs up and down my back as I huff, my eyes flickering over to the clock on the wall. Fuck, midnight already passed.

“I have to go.” I mutter, my hips rising off of him so I can slide off of him and onto the floor. He just sends me a pout, moving so his weight rests on his hands that grip the edge of the appliance. My thighs clench at the sight as he leans over, his eyes captivating me once again. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I hand it to him, his grin proud and happy. “I’ll text you when I get home?” I offer, his head bobbing in a quiet nod as he types his number into the device. When he hands it back to me, I just motion towards the door almost silently asking him if he was coming with me.

“Uh,” he mutters, his eyes flickering to his lap as he clears his throat, “I’m rock hard, so…” He trails off, my hand flying up to cover my mouth as I giggle uncontrollably. He looks away sheepishly as he palms himself, a small groan leaving his lips as he sends me a nod. “I’ll find you later and if I don’t, I can promise you that you’ll see me soon.” I nod with a small sigh, sending him a quick wink before my hand pulls the door open.

Once it’s shut, I immediately go into my phone, trying to find the contact information that he added. My jaw drops as I stumble past an unknown name, my head spinning as I lean against the wall. Did this fucker really just name himself ‘brat tamer’ in my phone and not expect me to see it? Holding in a giggle, I hold my phone to my chest. My feet carry me down the hallway, my mind elsewhere as shouts and screams spin around me.

When my eyes connect with my brothers, his shirt is covered in blood, his feet marching towards me. My eyes widen in shock, the happy moment completely forgotten as he grabs my upper arm, pulling me with him as he looks for the nearest exit. People gawk and stare as we pass, watching as we finally make it out into the cool air as I struggle to keep up with him.

“Fezco, what the fuck?” I hiss as he opens the car door for me, Ash sharing a similar look as he turns the car on. We both look between each other and Fez, the man not answering any of our curious questions. He just shoves me down into the backseat with a huff, the door slamming brutally in my face. I look at Ash with worried eyes, his head shaking as he glares at Fez who throws himself into the passenger seat. My mind swims as Fez continues his vow of silence, Ash eventually pulling out of the driveway to make our way home..

A little while later, my finger hovers over the send button as I stare at Elliot’s contact. The whole way home, I fought the urge to text him until it was too strong to ignore. He had told me to call him or text him, he even seemed eager about it. So why not, right? What’s the worst that could happen?

To Brat Tamer: Really? Brat tamer?

I chuckle quietly as I slip under my covers, the silence of my room making me nervous as I wait for his reply. I only hoped that he shared the same excitement as me, his eyes trained on his phone as he waited for my message. I felt bad that I didn’t get to see him before I left, being brutally rushed outside and shoved into my car. I wasn’t sure how I was going to explain it to him but I would figure something out. My phone buzzes in my lap a few times, the messages that come through make my heart swell in my trembling chest.

From Brat Tamer: Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite bratty girl.

I’ve been waiting for you to text or call.

My fingers type back a quick reply at his teasing, my cheeks flaming with heat as I smirk.

To Brat Tamer: I see you haven’t lost your forwardness in the hour that I’ve been gone.

The little bubbles pop up at the bottom of the screen, my body falling back onto the bed as I squeal quietly, his response driving me insane.

From Brat Tamer: Shut up and call me, brat.

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Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex--awesome--22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @popehaywardssecretgf

Euphoria Taglist: @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx@ssprayberrythings @username-lols @pessimisticbiitch @urmomsangel @rosepetalsparks@bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila

Elliot Taglist: @vintagebitc @kaitieskidmore1

[graniairish]

Walking on eggshells

So this is my first own story here. I hope it is written in an understandable way. (Please ignore any grammatical errors. English is not my mother tongue.)

Title: Walking on eggshells

Words: 6761

Warnings: language (some explicit words), harassment and insults, heartbreak

Summary:

Daryl and reader have been close friends since the early days in Atlanta. They are deeply in love with each other but have no clue about it.

At some point new people join the community, including a young woman who is immediately after Daryl.

Reader is not exactly thin, no size zero, but also not fat, rather curvy, feminine. Even in this apocalyptic time. (you are just the way you are.)

Daryl has withdrawn more and more from reader, avoids contact. Reader believes he does that because he now has a perfect woman by his side.

However, Daryl avoids reader because he does not know how to deal with his feelings.

One day reader goes on a run that goes wrong. To save their group, the reader does a suicide stunt, that can cost her life.

--------------------------------------------------

"Ya even know what ya're doin’?"

Those were the first words Daryl Dixon had ever said to you.

It was still at camp in Atlanta. Daryl stood over you, the sun behind him, as he looked down at you as you made a stew from a basket full of leaves and mushrooms.

“Believe it or not, I know what I'm doing here. My mother taught me as a child which mushrooms and plants are edible, and which can be used as medicine."

He nudged his nose up in a nod.

"If ya say so."

With that he dropped something in front of you.

"Maybe the whole thin’ tastes like somethin’ with that," he said before he turned around and made his way back to his brother.

Your eyes followed him - confused. Only then did you notice that he had thrown about a dozen freshly hunted squirrels in front of you.

Maybe the grumpy redneck was not that bad after all, you thought to yourself with a smile as you started to skin and gut the dead animals.

It was not long before a friendship developed between you. You were the only one he really let near him after the disappearance of his brother and Sophia's death. And after the farm was overrun by Walkers, he was by your side to comfort you.

He was always there for you, just as you were for him. You cared for each other.

But you only noticed how deep the feelings really were on your side when Daryl - after the incident with Woodbury - had turned his back on you and everyone else and disappeared into the woods. Just to be with his brother.

The realization that you were infinitely in love with the withdrawn redneck hit you hard. And just seeing him walk away hurt you so much that you could not breathe.

Without knowing it, Daryl had broken your heart into a million pieces.

It felt like he took a part of you with him.

More and more you withdrew from the others. From time to time, you even slept in the old management office of the Prison, far away from the cell block, from everyone else, from your family. You just wanted to be left alone in your grief and heartbreak.

In the first time you had gone through hell emotionally and a psychological breakdown would not have been long in coming. And if it had not been for Maggie, you probably would not have found your way back.

She had been your solid rock and, without you really noticing, had become your best friend - your sister.

And after a while it got better. It did not hurt that much anymore. Although it was not quite true. It still hurt - hurt infinitely - but the distances that those waves of grief hit you grew larger.

And then suddenly Daryl was back.

It was a shock to you.

And the moment he moved back into his cell in the cell block, you moved out. There was no trace of you or your belongings in the whole building anymore.

Quietly, and without anyone noticing, you moved into the management's office - permanently. The thought of being so close to him - physically - without actually being able to be close to him was just unbearable for you.

And so you had retreated.

Daryl did not seem to mind. It almost seemed as if he had not even really noticed it.

You hardly had any contact with each other. He rarely talked to you, and if he did, then only what was necessary and as monosyllabic as possible. He even seemed to be avoiding you.

But that's how life works - hard and unfair.

And you cannot choose who to fall in love with.

The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return. But it only worked like that in movies and love songs, right? It did not work that way in real life, at least not for you.

As time goes by you had devoted all your concentration to your small farm. Your mother taught you how to handle plants as a child. In your previous life - before the apocalypse - you also had a vegetable garden with which you mostly tended yourself. So you knew the job and it was easy for you.

You lived in your own little world where you worked side by side with Rick and spent your meager free time with Maggie. Sometimes Carol would join you, but you had already noticed that she somehow always dropped a few comments about Daryl.

You did not want to talk about the redneck, let alone think about him. So, you ignored her as best you could - or at least her suggestions.

But it was not that easy. Your whole prison family knew how deep your feelings were for Daryl. No matter how hard you try to hide it, hide yourself from it.

Then Woodbury fell. New people came to the Prison and with them a young woman - Michelle. Probably only in her mid-twenties, model type, blonde, pretty. A typical homecoming queen.

To you, she made it seem like she had never worked hard in her entire life. She was the type of person who always muddled through, for her own benefit.

And just a few days after moving in, she was permanently on Daryl's heels. She asked questions, talked to him, spent most of the days near him.

But worst of all, she was openly flirting with the man you loved, and he did not seem to mind. Your stomach cramped painfully at the sight, and you had not been able to eat for two days.

Your heart, painstakingly patched together, broke one more time. After that you had avoided Daryl and his blond girl for almost a week, avoided them like the devil had shunned holy water.

But it could not go on like that. And at a certain point you realized: as long as Daryl was happy, nothing else mattered. At least for you.

To make matters worse, there was that cruel little voice in your head that kept whispering to you why Daryl was interested in Michelle and not you. It kept talking to you, all the time.

And then the little wheels in your head started spinning until you were caught in a vortex of thoughts.

She was thin and delicate; you were rather well built.

Her shoulders were narrow; yours were broad.

Her stomach was flat; but you had unmistakable love handles.

She had a firm, shaped ass; you childbearing hips - as your mother used to call it.

Her golden blonde hair always fell in gentle waves down her back. You always had your y/h/c ones in a messy bun. And after hours of hard work in the gardens, you always looked like a half-plucked chicken.

You would never have any chance of comparing yourself with this beautiful, gorgeous woman. Michelle was perfect.

You were just you.

But the worst part of this whole thing was that this woman could not leave you alone. She had won, the man was hers. What else did she want from you?!

Every now and then she dropped small comments, out of the earshot of others. But so that you could hear them very well.

"Hard to believe how one can be so well fed.”

“Are you secretly eating your way through our supplies?"

"Given your size, a whole bunch of Walkers could get fed up with you for a week."

It hurt, hurt infinitely. But you were willing to endure everything. You did not want to make a scene. Did not want to get upset, maybe to draw more unwanted attention to yourself.

In the depths of your heart, you only wanted one thing. You just wanted Daryl to be happy. Everything else does not matter to you.

But what you failed to notice in all your self-doubt and self-sacrifice was: Daryl was not happy.

You were both blind to each other's intentions, had no idea why the other acted the way he was doing.

But the inner circle of your family, especially Maggie and Carol, knew what was going on. And having to watch the two of you - while you did not notice it yourself - slowly but surely drove everyone to despair.

The whole thing was like a fucking soap opera!

You and Daryl had barely spent time together and avoided each other as best you could, so you had not noticed all the little signs that spoke volumes to all the others.

How his ears turn red when you have been near him.

How he sometimes looked at you a little longer than others.

How he changed his shifts in the guard tower just so he could take care of you when you were near the fences during your work.

The moment Daryl faced you for the first time since his return, the floor was torn from under his feet. When he saw your y/e/c eyes looking at him, he felt his heart swell. Warmth spread in his chest and he had thousands of butterflies in his stomach. The redneck had never felt anything like that before and it terrified him.

It was something he could not handle.

He knew he screwed up when he left you because of his brother. The way you behaved towards him was unmistakable. Daryl did not want to endanger the little friendship that was still between you. He could not risk losing you for good.

So he gave you your freedom and just adored from a distance - without you noticing.

But from a certain point in time all his thinking was focused only on you. Or rather, to hide what he really felt about you - how much he loved you.

Daryl was so busy hiding the love he felt for you that he did not even notice how much this young woman from Woodbury was constantly flirting with him. Of course, it had not escaped him that she ran after him like a lost puppy; and yes that annoyed him.

But weren't all of these newcomers a pain in the ass?

He was not interested in this blonde woman, not a little bit. Daryl does not care about her; he does not even listen to her most of the time.

If he was honest, he did not even know her name.

---------------------------------

In the last few weeks, it had become routine for the redneck to be on guard duty in the early hours of the morning. Not just because he was an early riser- and finally got some peace up here from the intrusive people from Woodbury - but because you went to work in the vegetable gardens shortly after sunrise every day.

And from high up there he had the opportunity to watch and admire you unnoticed.

You have always been used to working hard, and everyone who saw you knew that you had no problem with it and that you could lend a hand. Rick once joked that you could overshadow any Amish when it came to your work ethic. You just shrugged your shoulders and replied that you had no problem with that as long as you didn't have to pray for hours.

So you and Daryl spent the mornings together - without your having a clue about it. You, lovingly watching over the plants in the vegetable patches, he on the guard tower, lovingly watching over you.

As the sun rose higher and higher on its way across the sky, it made the sweat shimmer on your skin as you patiently devoted yourself to each of your tasks without taking a break. The black tank top you wore on that hot summer day stuck to your body and framed it perfectly. Your figure was like an hourglass, and each of your curves came out sensually.

At least as far as Daryl could tell. For him you were perfect, just like you were. He could watch you for hours without getting tired of it, could watch you for the rest of his life.

Only when the crotch of his jeans became uncomfortably tight did the redneck look away from you. His thoughts had taken a suggestive course, and the images that emerged in his head were by far no longer suitable for minors. Daryl would surely spend this evening in his fist again - dreaming of how you would feel lying under him, how you would smell, how you would taste, and what sweet noises would come over your lips if he would touch you where you needed it most.

"Everything's okay," he heard a familiar voice next to him.

Damn it, did the time really go that fast? Was his shift already over?

"Are you okay? You seem a little distracted to me."

Carol had come to relieve him. But Daryl, in his fascination for you, had not even noticed her.

"’m okay."

"Yes, of course, and your thoughts were on the task in front of you the whole time."

There was unmistakable amusement in Carol's voice. With a knowing smile, the woman leaned on the railing and watched you work for a while.

"Can you please finally tell Y/N that you love her. So that we can finally all get on with our lives? It's really not nice to see you two walking around each other on eggshells."

Daryl was embarrassed. He was caught with his hand in the cookie jar by Carol. Still, he tried to stay as cool as possible.

"I have no idea what ya're talkin’ about."

But the woman was not easily fooled. She knew very well what was going on in the man in front of her. Just as she knew how you felt about him.

"I hear what you say, but your ears say something else.”

Daryl flinched. Sometimes he hated the way his body betrayed him.

“What the hell,” Carol had to keep from laughing “I didn't even know that they could get so red."

"Stop it woman."

Again and again, Carol tried to get her friend to finally confess his love to you. Because in her eyes you were both wasting valuable time. And being able to spend time with loved ones was the most important thing now.

You had not noticed any of this. You were too busy tying up the tomato plants and removing the leaves so that they brought the greatest possible yield. After all, many mouths had to be fed, and you all needed supplies for the coming winter.

And it was precisely these necessary supplies that prompted Rick to ask you to go on a run the next day with others. Of course, you immediately agreed, after all, everyone went on these runs at some point. It wouldn't be your first time, and certainly not your last time, that you would take part in something like this.

But who could say that in these uncertain times?

What you did not know at the time was, that Michelle would be there too. Maybe then you would have refused. But now you sat in the back seat of the pickup truck in silence, staring stubbornly out the window.

Michelle just a few inches away from you.

It had been clear to Maggie from the start that this constellation would not bring any good. However, even the young woman would not have expected what dimensions the whole thing would take. And in what a heartbreaking catastrophe it would end.

During the entire journey Glenn and Maggie tried to break the mood. The four of you sat in the truck and drove a few hours until you finally arrived at your destination.

It should be a simple thing - in and out, quietly, quickly, unseen.

But what no one had expected was the behavior that Michelle had displayed when it came to doing her part. She had absolutely no desire to be actually a part in this job.

And Michelle let the three of you feel that very clearly.

She neither wanted to help find the necessary supplies nor carry them; even found it outrageous that she had been asked by Rick to join in and risk her life. She had never had to do this before, why now?

It took you so much strength to stay calm and not yell your opinion on Michelle's face - or beat her across the street.

You did not like this woman, not a bit. For you, she was a narrow-minded, self-centered, selfish slut who cared about only herself. And what Daryl saw in her was incomprehensible to you.

But when Michelle began to risk all of your lives because of her loud behavior, even Maggie's patience ran out. The eternal insults in your direction were just the cherry on top. Maggie would have liked nothing more than to give this snotty brat a huge slap in the face.

But to make a shitty day even more shitty, that was unfortunately your smallest problem.

Michelle's loud complaints drew the attention of more and more walkers, and at some point, you had difficulties getting back to your car.

You had just successfully cleared a pharmacy when you saw the horde slowly approaching on the street.

That was by far the worst scenario, and your greatest fear.

It was all happening so quickly, and the only thing you thought was that Michelle had to make it back to the Prison alive. You could not risk Daryl losing someone he loved again. No matter what a fucking bitch she was. You knew it would destroy him.

The way back to the pickup was long and the Walkers unfortunately closer than wanted. The heavy backpacks did not make it any easier to escape them quickly. So you stayed back when Maggie, Glenn, and Michelle started running back towards the truck. You knew your partners needed a distraction to make it through.

And what could be a better distraction than you.

"Come to me you damn motherfuckers! Here I am! Come and catch me you bloody bastards! You ugly fuckers!" you screamed on top of your lungs, tried to make as much noise as possible.

The walkers slowly turned to you and came to hunt you down - to kill you. You would be their lunch. Scared to death your heart was beating so hard in your chest that you thought it was about to pop out.

From that point on, you could not remember anything. Your brain just shut down, went into survival mode. You only ran on instinct, no more active thinking.

In a way, like the Walkers you tried to escape from.

Maggie turned when she heard your voice, and the blood froze in her veins. She thought you were right behind her, but you were still near the entrance to the pharmacy and the horde of walkers was on the way to you.

"Y/N!" her voice was desperate.

She was about to turn back to you – to help you - but Glenn could not and would not let that happen.

"Come on Maggie, we have to get the car. We'll come back for her; I promise."

Glenn took his girlfriend's hand and pulled her forcefully with him.

Michelle had not noticed anything of that, she was the first to take a seat in the pickup and firmly locked the passenger door behind her.

When Glenn finally started the engine and Maggie - now in the back seat - turned her eyes back to the pharmacy entrance, you were gone.

Your best friend was in a panic.

"Where is she? Oh my god, where is she?"

Only then did she see you on the canopy of the building - the backpack with the bandages still firmly strapped around you.

"On the roof, Glenn, she's on the roof! We have to get her!" the young woman screamed in desperation.

She could not and did not want to lose her friend. Not now and not like this.

“and preferably before these things figure out how to climb”, was Glenn's addition when he turned the truck and drove towards the pharmacy.

"Are you crazy," squeaked Michelle, "do you want to die just to maybe save her life?"

Maggie's eyes darkened, and Glenn realized immediately that she had now reached the limit. Another word from Michelle and his girlfriend would feed this woman to the Walkers with no trace of guilt.

"You shut up now, bitch! You're to blame for all this shit. If you’d shut your damn mouth and done what we've all done hundreds of times before, none of this would have happened! These fucking things would never have noticed us."

Michelle gasped to give Maggie a neat answer, but Maggie was faster.

"If I hear one more word from you, if you just beep, I'll feed you to these Walkers!"

Michelle's reply was interrupted by the gruesome sound of breaking bones as Glenn brutally drove through the horde of walkers who were now confused and trying to understand what was going on around them.

You were still standing on the roof. Your gaze was focused on the scene before you but not fearful, as if your self was not there at that moment.

"You have to jump," Glenn called to you when he brought the pickup to a stop right under the roof.

And with that you jumped onto the back of the truck. The fall was higher than expected, and there was a thump as you hit the flatbed. Immediately Glenn had accelerated the car again and drove away as fast as he could in the direction of Prison.

Desperate, Maggie kept calling your name, but you just did not answer. Maybe you were in shock. After all, it was not common practice to voluntarily sacrifice oneself as a meal for these monsters.

A few miles out of town, Glenn finally stopped the car, and Maggie was by your side in an instant. But she was not prepared for what she saw. You were passed out and a small pool of blood had formed under your head. The thud she had heard - when you landed - had been your head when it hit the loading wall.

"Oh my God."

Immediately Maggie was at your side, looking for your pulse with trembling hands. And there it was - weak - but she felt it.

"Please open your eyes Y/N/N", the young woman pleaded as she lovingly brushed the hair off your face.

"Maggie?" Glenn's voice was timid, almost frightened, as he stood next to the pickup and stared at your broken body.

"We have to get her to my father as soon as possible!"

Maggie's harsh words seemed to loosen Glenn from his stupor.

"Okay, no problem, I can do that."

And with that Glenn was back behind the wheel and gave full throttle. Maggie stayed with you on the flatbed, took off your backpack and trying to stop the bleeding on your head.

-------------------------------------

Rick and Daryl were in the courtyard of the prison, discussing the next runs when the pickup truck drove through the gates with screeching tires. It was immediately clear to both of them that something bad must have happened.

Without wasting time, the two men ran towards the car.

"What happened", Rick called out.

But Daryl could not hear Glenn’s answer. Everything around him fell silent and vanished when he saw you - bleeding, passed out - in Maggie's arms.

Without thinking further, he jumped on the flatbed and leaned over you. He caressed your pale cheek with trembling fingertips before desperately looking for a pulse on your neck.

Frightened, he held his breath until he felt it, your heartbeat.

Even but so weak.

"We have to take her to my father."

Maggie had not even finished the sentence when Daryl had already taken you in his arms - bridal style - and was on the way to the infirmary with you.

With a lover's desperation, he clung to you as he ran all the way.

“Don't do this to me. I beg ya, please don't die to me."

-----------------------------------

Daryl never left your side for a moment. He sat like a statue and held your hand. He did not say a word, did not move. Neither when Hershel examined you, nor when he sewed your laceration.

He listened quietly to the vet's diagnosis and what he thought might happen in the next few hours or days.

Only when Maggie came with a bowl of water and a cloth to wash off the dirt and blood did he break free.

"Let me …" Daryls voice cracked, and the knot in his throat made it difficult for him to say anything else.

He took everything from Maggie's hand and put it on the little table next to your bed.

The redneck looked broken. The young woman could clearly see how much he loved you. And she knew that if you died, Daryl would vanish. He would just cease to exist.

“I'm so sorry,” Maggie said quietly, and a tear rolled down her cheek, “I thought she was right behind me. But … but she wasn't."

"It's not ya’ fault." Daryl's voice was barely perceptible.

Slowly he dipped the cloth into the warm water and began to carefully wash the blood off your face.

"Daryl I’m ... I’m"

"I know."

“Y/N is strong, she is tough. She will be okay."

Daryl just nodded absently while he concentrated fully on washing the blood off your temple.

And so Maggie left the redneck alone with you in the infirmary.

With trembling hands, he began to clean your neck. Little by little he washed your whole body- took care of you quietly and lovingly- making dirt, blood and sweat disappear, made you as clean as he saw you before you went on that fucking run.

Then he sat there, hour after hour, just looking at you, holding your hand. You looked so fragile. You lay there injured and pale, almost like a corpse. Only your quiet, even breathing told Daryl that you were still with him.

Inside Daryl, everything contracted painfully at the thought that you might not wake up again. Slowly he leaned towards your face. He looked at every birthmark, every wrinkle, every freckle, as if he wanted to burn them into his memory.

“I don't know if ya can hear me,” he finally began with a trembling voice.

“But I ... I ... I “, he had to laugh bitterly.

“’m a bloody coward. Why can' I jus’ say it?"

Daryl took a deep breath, he had to get his fear under control somehow. He had to tell you. He would never forgive himself if he did not do it now.

What if you died.

"I love ya Y/N. 've been in love with ya since ... I actually have no idea how long. But I love ya. I should have told ya much earlier. I don' know why I didn't. But I love ya."

Daryl fought back tears but lost.

"Oh God please, I beg ya, please come back to me. Give me a chance to show ya how much I love ya. Just one chance to prove myself to ya." and with that Daryl collapsed on top of you, crying and sobbing.

----------------------------------

It took you two days to open your eyes again. Two days in which Daryl had not left your side. Two days of going through hell and back again. In which even he had sent a quick prayer or two towards heaven.

It was as if you had been awakened from a deep sleep far too abruptly. And it took a while before you knew where you were. You felt dizzy and tired. Your head hurt like hell. And you were confused.

First, why you were in the infirmary, and second, why Daryl was sitting next to your bed looking like he had not slept in days – your hand in his.

"Hey," he whispered, "how are ya feelin’?"

"Tired", your voice was scratchy from not using it for a long time, "my head hurts."

“You hit ya head bad. Hershel had to patch ya up."

"What happened?"

"Can't ya remember."

"No ... Yes …. but not ... not really ... only up to a certain point."

You were nervous, were not used to Daryl being so close to you. You did not want to make a fuss about yourself, and yet you liked the attention this man was giving you.

“I can still remember the horde of Walkers who came up to me, but then … nothing ... I can't remember what happened then."

You had not noticed that tears had started to run down your temples until Daryl lovingly wiped them away with his thumb.

"Hey ... shh ... take it easy. Everythin’ is okay. Everyone’s fine. Please don't get upset, ya have a concussion. Hershel says ya need a lot of rest now."

And suddenly you were silent. Never before had Daryl spoken to you with such a loving tone in his voice or had touched you in this way. You did not understand what was happening here.

But he said you had a concussion. Perhaps it was to blame for this filter through which you noticed this whole interaction.

“I'll let Hershel know that ya woke up. I'll be right back; promise."

Confused, you looked after the redneck. Something had happened that you had no idea about. But you did not want to worry about it now. Your head hurt too much, and you just wanted to sleep.

---------------------------------------

When you opened your eyes again, Hershel was sitting in the chair on which you had previously seen Daryl.

"It's nice to see you again with your eyes open Y/N," said the older man with a friendly smile, "you worried us very much."

"‘m sorry. "

"It's okay. How do you feel?"

"Okay. Tired, head hurts."

"Something else?"

"No, except that I feel like I'm wrapped in cotton wool."

Hershel sat and listened to you before nodding.

"Daryl said you can't remember what happened."

"Not really."

"Don't worry, that's nothing unusual with this type of head injury."

He patted your shoulder encouragingly.

"Will I be able to remember one day?"

"You know kid, sometimes it is really good not to be able to remember some things."

"Probably."

“But now you should rest first. I know you have questions, but answers will come later. After all, you have to regain your strength."

------------------------------------------

You knew you had slept, but not for how long. Because the next time you opened your eyes, Carol was sitting on that same chair. But there was something else. Could it be that it smelled of her venison ragout?

"How are you, Y/N/N?"

"Still tired, but the headache is almost gone."

"Good to hear. You gave us all a real scare."

"I'm sorry."

"Especially Daryl. I've never seen him so frightened."

You looked questioningly at the older woman next to you. You were used to it that she kept dropping allusions about Daryl - at least when she talked to you. But you just did not understand that statement at all.

Daryl was never afraid of anything. Why would he ...

"Well. Are you hungry?" Carol had a friendly smile on her face when it broke your train of thought.

At that moment, your stomach made a loud rumbling noise.

“I'll take that as a yes,” smirked the gray-haired woman, “Daryl went hunting so that I could cook this. He knows it’s your favorite."

Unsure you looked at Carol before you took the bowl from her hand and slowly began to eat. It was true, that was your favorite food - if there was such a thing at all in times like this.

"You know that he loves you," she suddenly began out of nowhere

"Of course, we are family," did you try to belittle the matter.

“Okay, let's reformulate the whole thing again. Daryl is in love with you, absolutely and one hundred percent madly in love with you. A 'you're the only one for me' love. Without any misunderstanding."

When she said that, you choked on the stew right away and now you sat in front of her, coughing and snorting.

“And I know you love him too. So don't try to deny it at all. Everyone here knows that. Or how blind do you think we are? Although ... apart from Daryl. He has no idea. He probably wouldn't even understand if it bites his ass.”

At this picture you had to laugh.

“Sometimes you have to take a leap of faith in order to reach their goal. You two really have to start talking clearly to each other. You two belong together like pepper and salt Do you actually notice how much you waste your precious time? Neither of us knows how much of it is left. You should know that now, because honey it was damn close."

---------------------------------------------

Sleeping was your main occupation right now. A concussion took time and a lot of rest to heal. So it wasn't uncommon for your life to consist of short scenes at the moment.

With a sound - like a purring cat - you stretched in the hospital bed before opening your eyes. You no longer had any sense of time, and only the sunlight falling through the barred windows told you that it was probably afternoon.

"Hey."

Only now did you notice that Daryl was with you again.

"Ya feel better?"

"Yes."

Daryl seemed kind of nervous. But that wasn't possible, why should he?

"I've been here before, but ya slept and I don't want to wake ya", his words just gushed out of him.

Could it be? Was he nervous?

"Okay ... yes ... uhm ..."

You were easily overwhelmed with this situation, and somehow your head just seemed to have been swept clean. You could not find any words.

"We take turns. Hershel thinks there should always be someone with ya. Because of the concussion. Rick has already been here, and Maggie of course."

"And Carol."

"Yea."

"I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For the food. Carol said you went hunting especially for it."

"No problem."

“I still appreciate it. And for ... that you are here ... with me."

He nudged his nose up in a nod.

And then there was silence. The conversation with Carol kept going through your head. What she said. Could it really be true?

You knew that Daryl has always been more of a man of action than a man of words. And it was clear to you that if you did not take the first step now, you two would probably never get anywhere.

"Carol spoke to me", you started when you sat up

The man across from you was obviously nervous now. You could tell all too clearly by the fact that he was starting to chew the inside of his cheek.

"With me too."

"Apparently something like an intervention is going on here, could that be", you smiled, trying to loosen up the mood a bit.

"Seems so."

Daryl looked at you for a few moments. You could see the wheels turning in his head.

"I'm a coward, Y/N," he finally began.

You had expected a lot, but not a statement like that.

"No, you’re not. How did you come up with such an idea?"

"I was a complete idiot and too cowardly."

"What are you talking about Daryl."

In your opinion, this was going completely wrong right now. You actually wanted to tell him you loved him, and now it seemed to end in a vortex of self-doubt.

"I love ya, Y/N.”

And with that your thoughts became silent.

“I am terribly in love with ya. And out of fear I didn't say anything. But then I saw ya lying on the flatbed of that fucking truck, covered in blood and passed out. At that moment, my heart stopped. And I swore to myself that when ya're okay again, when ya've got throu’ this, that I'll finally tell ya what I feel for ya. Y/N I love ya. "

During Daryl's monologue you forgot how to breathe and just listened intently while thousands of butterflies fluttered around in your stomach like they're having a bloody party there.

It took you some time to realize that Daryl was waiting for a reaction from you as he gnawed his thumb in fear.

"I love you too," it gushed out of you before you even realized you had said something.

And then there was silence again. You and Daryl just looked at each other. Unsure what to do now. After all, you were both in uncharted waters.

"And ... and now," you asked uncertainly.

"Don't know," Daryl just shrugged.

"I mean ... um ... are ... are we ... together now?"

You carefully ventured out of cover.

"Um, yea ... if ya ... if ya want that."

"Oh my god, yes please", you replied in one breath.

Suddenly the tension between you had dissolved and you both had to laugh. It was so surreal. Two adults acted like teenagers in love who had no idea what to do.

But then Daryl slowly leaned in towards you. Your heart was pounding when you could finally feel his breath on your face. But before your lips touched, he stopped. He wanted to give you the opportunity to evade him if you did not want this.

But you wanted it, wanted it more than anything else in your life. And when you had overcome the last few inches, you finally felt his lips on yours.

The feeling was amazing. As if at that moment an electric shock had run through your whole body, and at the same time it was like coming home.

Everything around you no longer existed, was no longer important. Here and now, it was just you and Daryl. The way his lips moved with yours, how his fingers slowly ran up your arms until they were in your hair.

Everything was so intense. And when you finally parted to take a much-needed breath, Daryl leaned his forehead against yours.

"Ya have no idea how long I've been dreamin’ about this."

"Probably as long as me."

-------------------------

When Rick was about to visit Y/N in the early evening hours, he saw Carol and Maggie standing in the door to the infirmary.

"Everything's okay," he wanted to know.

The two women turned around with their index fingers over their lips.

"Shhhh."

Both did at the same time.

"Be quiet and come here," Carol whispered, "you really have to see that."

Rick approached the two women curiously. What could be so interesting that Carol and Maggie were half-hidden behind the door, staring into the infirmary?

He was confused, but when he saw what fascinated them so much, his heart swell. A satisfied smile played on his lips, as he was seeing what was going on less than five paces away.

Daryl was lying - half sitting - on the bed. His back supported on the wall behind him. Y/N was snuggled close to him, head on his chest and her arm wrapped around him. Absently, the fingers of his right hand traced patterns on her upper arm as he read to her from an old paperback.

Everyone could see the love that bound these two people. And thank God the two finally understood that.

"Seems like we finally have a happy ending," said the former deputy with a broad smile.

"Thank God", Maggie exhaled, "nobody wanted to watch this puppy love shit anymore."

“Yes,” laughed Rick, “but you have to admit there was something exciting about the whole thing. As if it had been our very own little soap opera."

"You're right, but I prefer my best friend happy."

"And what do we do now. I mean this seemingly endless heartbreak theater has come obviously to an end."

"Gossip- Rick is afraid he'll get bored?"

Maggie's voice was teasing.

"No, that's not how it was meant."

"Don't worry, Rick," said Carol with a smile, "I think the whole thing has a sequel anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, has someone told Michelle yet?"

All three looked at each other with big eyes before they having to resist laughing convulsively.

This story could get really interesting after all, they agreed.

part two

[maaaddiexo]

Too Late | T. Scamander

Mainlist | Serieslist

Theseus Scamander x reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of death

-

It had been two months since that dreaded night in Paris. Where Queenie Goldstein and Credence crossed the threshold of blue fire and disappeared with Grindelwald into the night sky.

Two months since you’d smiled.

Two months since Leta.

Everyone at school had ostracized her. Everyone except you. The girls called her wicked; you called it getting even. They called her dangerous; you called her brave. They called her a lost cause; you called her worthy. You saw it that night in the cemetery, when she sacrificed herself for everyone else. You felt her loss that night and every day after that. Because after defeating the Fiendfyre dragon in the cemetery, everyone had searched out the others, reeling in the loss of someone. But you remained standing alone in the cemetery.

Forgotten.

Everyone had left, gathering back in Nicholas Flamel’s house, drinking tea and eating croissants while you wandered the streets of Paris for hours. Eventually, you apparated back to London, stumbling through the front door of your parent’s house. For two weeks, you stayed hidden beneath your covers, trying to ignore the grief of being forgotten by your friends and losing your best friend. Worst of all, you faced it all alone. 

Until Tina Goldstein appeared on your front porch holding a bouquet of white lilies in her hands with a timid smile. Everything crumbled that moment. You collapsed in the doorway, finally able to share your grief with someone after holding it in for so long.

Two months later, and Tina was still the only one to contact you. You hadn’t been particularly close before that night in late September, but you were now. She’d convinced you to leave your house once a day for a walk anywhere of your choosing and encouraged you to write about your friend, replacing the grief with love. What ended up happening was the two of you walking to a location of your choosing and you’d sit in silence for the most part, writing in your leatherbound journal – dark red because that was Leta’s favourite colour – and Tina keeping you company. It was winter now, and you were returning from an indoor garden thirty minutes away from your house. Tina was on assignment, but you’d promised to still leave the house while she was chasing down leads on Grindelwald.

Like always, the walk back to your parent’s house was quiet, your eyes were puffy, and your nose was running – both from the cold and from crying.

You were halfway down the street when you heard your mother’s voice carry through the air. “Like hell you’re entering this house.”

“Mrs. Y/LN-”

You looked up. A curly-haired boy was standing on your front porch, bundled in a wool coat with red cheeks. Newt Scamander. Your blood boiled and your heart stopped at the sight of him. Anger and grief rolled up in one messy ball. Where was Theseus, you couldn’t help but wonder.

“Don’t you dare knock on this door like you and your brother didn’t break my daughter’s heart, abandoning her in that cemetery up until today. Without a word! Get out of here. I don’t want to see either of you again.” The door slammed shut and Newt’s shoulder’s slumped and he carefully turned, walking down the stairs and then sitting on them, defeated.

You wanted to walk away – you didn’t want to talk to Newt. But it was starting to drizzle and the backyard was fenced in. If you wanted to enter your house, you’d have to pass by Newt. And you weren’t a bitch – you wouldn’t ignore him like he ignored you.

“Hello, Newt.”

The boy stood up – too quickly at that – and stumbled back, groaning when his back hit the lip of the stairs. You didn’t show any sympathy to the boy and moved past him. “You deserved that, y’know.”

“Y/N, wait. Please. Can we just talk?”

Angry tears welled in your eyes and you whipped around. Newt looked like a wounded puppy at the rage in your eyes. “You had two months to “just talk” to me. Nobody reached out to me after Leta – not you, not Theseus. And I get it – you were grieving. But guess what? So was I. I lost her too. And I had nobody. Nobody. The time for talking is over, Newt. Get off my steps.”

~

It was another two weeks until Leta’s birthday and Tina met you on your front porch with more white lilies. Together, you apparated to Paris and entered the Lestrange Mausoleum. Leta’s coffin was obviously empty, but it didn’t make seeing it any easier. Flowers had already been laid on the floor, but the room was empty. Tina placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll wait outside.”

“You don’t have to, T. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

Tina smiled. “I’ll wait. I won’t leave you.”

The words were comforting at first, but then a stab to the heart when she was gone. Theseus and Newt had left you without a second thought. You laid the flowers on the floor, feeling the tears spill onto your cheeks as you leaned forward. You touched her stone, running your fingers over the engraved words. Leta Lestrange. Beloved by all. Except she wasn’t beloved by all. It was just something people wrote, you guessed. 

“Hey, Leets. I, uh, I know what you did that day. I never got to say thank you for it. And, uh,” you blinked. You couldn’t see anything through your tears. “Those girls who called you wicked back at school? They were wrong. You were brave and selfless. And I’ll never forget it, Leets. Never.”

The smooth marble was cold against your forehead and your eyes burned. Salty tears slipped past your lips and onto your tongue. You were breathing heavily and yet no air reached your lungs. At least I’ll be with Leta, you thought. you didn’t know how long you stood there sobbing before you were finally interrupted.

“Y/N.” Theseus. His voice was hoarse and raspy – clear signs he’d been crying – but you still recognized it easily.

You looked at your shoes, sniffling. “Theseus.” His fingers brushed against yours but you pulled away. You’d been close once – two months ago, actually. Secret glances, fingers brushing, and sitting too close to each other at dinner. But that was all gone now. That all disappeared when he’d put himself far before you.

“I’m sorry for not reaching out sooner-”

“Don’t, Theseus. Not now. Not here.” At first, you hadn’t wanted to be angry with him – even though he left you alone in the cemetery. Him and Newt. But the anger started to grow after a week without contact. After three, you’d given up on giving him the benefit of the doubt and concluded that you weren’t worthy enough for a phone call. Two months later and he’d proven that. If you hadn’t come across each other here, he likely still wouldn’t have reached out.

Theseus rolled his lips and nodded, pocketing his hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry - for your loss, I mean. I know she was your best friend.”

You sucked in sharply, standing up straight. Those words hurt because they were so true. You gripped your red wool coat tightly and moved past Theseus. “I need to go.”

Tina was outside waiting for you, murmuring with Newt but stepped back when you ran out. It was raining now. Fitting, you supposed. Leta loved the rain. “You ready, Y/N/N?”

You nodded wordlessly and felt Theseus’ hand on shoulder. He spun you around. You were too numb to stop him. His eyes were glassy and sad. “I’m sorry, Y/N. For everything.”

You wanted to accept his apology and let him take you back to his house where you’d curl up in his favourite armchair and laugh with him and Newt and Tina, but you weren’t ready for that. Would you ever be? His actions created wounds that ran deep. You pushed his hand off your shoulder and stepped back. “Two months, too late, Theseus.”

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 3

Continuing the story of how you and Sirius became friends; as James and Remus grow closer to you, Sirius continues to treat you coldly until a late night encounter makes him question everything.

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2   CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 3 .:Resistance and Reconciliation:.

~Previously~

“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”

“Did you ever ask them about it?” Remus pressed.

“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”

Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.

“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius sat on the stone ledge on the window of his dorm room, looking out towards the Black Lake. He could see the push and pull of the wind as the thin branches of the ash trees bowed gently with the rhythm. In the reflection of the glass he could see James and Peter behind him experimenting with an altered set of wizard's chess, complete with fire-breathing knights and bishops that threw daggers, while one of Remus' records spun in the background.

Despite everything he could have been thinking about at the moment, his thoughts, irritatingly enough, drifted to you. He frowned slightly as he leaned his shoulder against the window, annoyed that you occupied even a portion of his mind. He just couldn't understand you. Somehow you had turned James, who had once openly proclaimed you his sworn enemy, into something close to a friend in the span of a year. You had no qualms with pranks pulled on you, yet you were fiercely protective when they were directed at others. You were always smiling, yet your temper took no prisoners. If you weren't a Slytherin you might even be attractive.

The thought made him bolt upright. Where the hell did that come from? He almost laughed. No. Absolutely not. He was Sirius Black, he could get anyone he wanted in this bloody school, and he certainly wasn't going to busy his mind with you. What the hell was wrong with him? It's not like he noticed the way you smiled to yourself when you were reading, or the fact that the sound of your laugh got stuck in his head like a song—

No. Stop it. Get your head straight, they're evil.

Sirius exhaled deeply, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. For some reason that thought didn't sit right in his brain, and the longer he sat with it he came to a horrifying conclusion:

Maybe Remus was right.

The only time you'd really been nasty to them was when they'd instigated it first, or whenever they had a go at Snivelus, which had become less and less frequent; Sirius suspected because of your tentative friendship with James. He'd always just assumed you were like the other Slytherins he'd come to know. There's been hearsay circulating around you, especially given your family's reputation, but you yourself hadn't really done anything to prove the rumors. Maybe you really weren't like your family at all. Maybe you were like him. . .

Suddenly, he caught movement in the corner of his eye, not from his friend's reflections but from outside the window itself. A figure emerged from the lamplight of the castle gate, making their way towards the edge of the forest. If the green lining of your school robes and (h/c) hair didn't peak his interest, the flash that he saw of your face as you shot a quick glance over your shoulder confirmed it was you.

Sirius' mind began racing as he watched you disappear into the foliage, and suddenly every thought that had given you the benefit of the doubt vanished. He'd heard the rumors about the gatherings in the forest, everyone had. He'd even caught Snape practicing dark magic there himself one of the first nights they'd used the Shrieking Shack passageway.

He jumped off his perch by the window and grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill, drawing a rough outline of the perimeter of the forest. He labeled the Black Lake so his spell would have a going off point and pressed his wand to the still drying ink.

“Revelare Popularis,”

The enchantment was a work in progress— a technique he'd learned from a seventh year. It wasn't exact, but it was enough to tell him if anyone else was in the forest right now. His eyes darted across the paper as he scanned his makeshift map, and the color drained from his face as he saw names suddenly appear in a cluster by the lake: Mulciber, Wilkes, Avery, and Malfoy.

Was this it? Were you really one of them? 

James looked up from his game as he saw Sirius grab his leather jacket off where it hung from his bedpost.

“Going somewhere?”

“(L/n) just went into the forest,” Sirius said, “I'm following them.”

“Why, Sirius?” Remus said sardonically, having had enough of his unusual grudge against you, “We're not really ones to talk when it comes to sneaking around the forest at night, now are we?”

“He's got a point,” James said, “I mean, what do you think you're going to see?”

“What do I think?” Sirius scoffed, pushing the paper into Jame's hands, “what does it look like?”

James looked down at the parchment blankly.

“What am I looking at?”

“A variation on Revelio,” Sirius explained quickly, “if you have a location in mind it shows you who's there, but only at the time the charm is cast.”

“Are you kidding me?” James' jaw nearly dropped, “You're just now showing this to us? We could have been taking advantage of this spell to dodge Filch this whole time!”

“I'm serious.”

James had to fight hard not to make a joke out of that one.

“If (L/n)'s meeting up with those guys it can't be for anything good,” Sirius continued, “and I'm gonna find out exactly why.”

Before any of the boys could get another word in, Sirius took off running down the corridor. James groaned, rebelling against the urge to slam his head into the wall.  

“I've got to stop him before he does something stupid,” he said, pulling a coat on over his shoulders, “You with me, Remus?”

“Probably not the best idea,” Lupin reminded him, “the moon's full tomorrow. I won't turn, but in the direct moonlight I may get a bit. . . well, you know.”

“Right,” James sighed, running a hand through his hair in distress, “Peter?”

The boy jolted as he was addressed, his eyes quickly cast down to his twiddling fingers.

“I. . . w-well. . .”

“Fine,” James said, waving them off in annoyance, “I'll go at him alone.”

___________________________________________________

You took a grateful breath of the crisp night air, letting the wind whistle through your hair and clothes. You loved your common room, but it could feel constricting at times, especially when there were nights as beautiful as this taking place.

Your eyes drifted up to the moon, smiling at the sight of it. It was nearly full, only a sliver of white missing from the very edge of the sphere. The sight alone was enough to make you feel more at home in your own skin, an inexplicable sense of comfort washing over you. You hadn't been able to really let loose and just run in so long. You'd made doubly sure no one had followed you into the forest, but you still gave your surroundings a quick once over. You jumped as the sound of leaves crunching suddenly asserted itself behind you and you lit your wand quickly, turning to see who it was.

“. . . Black?”

“Sorry, were you expecting someone else? One of your pureblood friends, maybe?”

The confused look on your face only made his anger flare.

“Don't act coy,” he asked harshly, “just what are you playing at?”

Your back straightened in surprise, taken aback by his words.

“Excuse me?”

“I've seen you talking to my brother, Rosier, Snivelus, and all those other Slytherins. Don't think I don't know what you're doing,” the words flew out of his mouth before they had time to pass through his brain, every irrational irritation he had regarding you spewing out of him at once, “I've had to sit through it, you know. All those dinners where my parents talk blood politics with all the fanatics who think just like them. I've listened to your mother brag all about your pure blood line and how her child is 'so eager to carry on the family traditions'. So whatever you're planning by getting close to James, I'm not going to let it happen.”

You felt like you were frozen in place, staring at him as your throat tightened into knots.

“My mom?” you said, voice suddenly small, “Sirius. . . my mom passed away when I was little.”

Your words hit the Gryffindor like a truck.

“. . . what?” he asked dumbly, his brain delaying slightly in processing what you'd just said.

“She got sick. . . an experimental spell gone wrong. If you met someone with my family's name that spoke like that, it was probably my aunt. My cousin goes to Ilvermorny. That's the child she's talking about, not me. The divide between purebloods and muggleborns is even more severe in America, if you can believe it. . . ”

Sirius faltered, this new information going against everything he'd heard and thought he knew about you and your family.

“But,” he hesitated, “your father—”

“Put up the image he had to in order to keep me safe,” you said. You knew he was documented as being very open about his pureblood pride and distaste towards muggles, but it was a cover more than anything, “Since he stopped speaking with my aunt and moved us both away from the estate, she's acted as the new head of the (L/n) House, and that was years ago. . .”

You trailed off awkwardly, not feeling very self-righteous in your explanation.

“I know my family doesn't have the best reputation. . . that's probably why you hate me, huh?” you chuckled humorlessly, wincing at how harsh the words came out. But if you were honest, you were hurt that out of everyone in their group, Sirius was the one that didn't even seem to want to give you a chance. You were the one who had extended the olive branch in the first place on the condition that they ease up on Severus.

“Hate you?” Sirius echoed hollowly, feeling guilt creep up on him like a shadow, “that's. . . shit, no, that's not—”

“Everte Statum!”

You gasped as Sirius was suddenly shot backwards, his body flipping wildly through the air from the force before being slammed against the trunk of a nearby tree. His head spun, heavily disoriented as his vision shifted in shades.

You had drawn your wand on instinct, looking around for your attackers when you saw a black-clad figure lift their hood, revealing a long mane of white hair that stood out starkly in the night.  

Malfoy.

“Well, looky here,” Mulciber taunted, revealing himself behind you, “we've caught the two biggest blood traitors of the last century having a touching little moment together.”

Laughter echoed from the trees, Wilkes emerging from the shadows. You took up a defensive position as their group surrounded you.

“Now, let's not be hasty, Mulciber,” Lucius said, “their father may have disgraced their house, yes, but they didn't have a choice. It's not too late for them to make the right one now.” His lips turned up into a snarl as he regarded Sirius, “get away from that blood traitor, (L/n), he'll rub off on you.”

You grit your teeth hard, preparing to cast a spell when Malfoy put his hand up in a silencing gesture, the pretentious little prat.

“Ah, you don't want to make any rash moves either, (L/n),” he said, looking to your left. You followed his gaze to see Avery coming out of the foliage, grappling with someone under his arm.

“Potter?!”

James smiled weakly as Avery held him in a choke hold, a bit of blood dripping down the side of his head.

“Hey,” he said, humor still light in his voice, “So, this didn't exactly work out as planned.” He groaned as Avery's elbow was driven into his stomach, effectively silencing him.

As soon as you tried to move towards him, Lucius had his wand pointed at you.

“Let him go and get lost, Malfoy,” you said lowly, “you've taken this far enough.”

“You've been avoiding us, (L/n),” Lucius said, ignoring you entirely, “Snape may have come up with some rubbish excuses for you earlier, but you can't keep running from this.”

“If practicing curses on first years and terrorizing other people is how you plan on using magic, then I don't want any part of your little cult,” you spat, “face it, Malfoy— you lot need me, but I don't need you.”

Lucius exhaled sharply, his genuine surprise at your resistance replaced quickly with anger.

“Think about what you're doing, (L/n),” he said, his eyes narrowing dangerously, “don't be a fool like your father.”

That did it.

With a growl you unleashed an orange bolt of energy from your wand, your Stupefy hitting Lucius square in the chest. Mulciber was quick to retaliate with a jinx of his own, which you quickly nullified with a shield charm. Shock flashed across his expression at your casual use of nonverbal magic, and he recovered one second too late.

Sirius was back on his feet, petrifying Mulciber and swatting Wilkes away like a fly with the knockback jinx before either could cast a spell at you. You and Sirius found yourselves back to back, fending off Lucius as he continued to direct a steady stream of curses in your direction. Sirius managed to create an opening for you and you turned to where James was being held.

“Evanossa!”

A flash of blue hit Avery, who shrieked in horror when he saw that the arm he was using to hold Potter had turned gelatinous, fingers drooping down like melting ice cream. James wasted no time paying him back in kind for roughing him up earlier, sending him flying into the oak tree and using the water from the Black Lake to freeze him there before joining you in the fray.

“Expelliarmus!” he called out, sending Wilke's wand spinning out of his reach and leaving only Malfoy against the three of you.

Lucius faltered for a moment as he stared down your group of three, but held fast.

“Leave it, Malfoy,” you said, “it's over.”

He growled under his breath, taking up an obvious offensive stance, but you were too quick.

“Ebublio!”

Lucius gasped as he suddenly found himself encased in a giant bubble, his knockback jinx ricocheting off the inside and hitting him in the back of the head. He pounded against the bubble in frustration but found it to be thick as Plexiglas and just as strong, unable to pop it. Suddenly, he was hoisted into the air as you raised your wand higher, directing him farther and farther away until he was hovering directly over the Black Lake.

“Let me go this instant!” he growled.

A devilish smile graced your features.

“You got it.”

“No, wait, don't you dar—AHH!!”

You turned your back on him, your breaking eye contact promptly bursting the bubble and sending him flailing into the water a few feet below.

You chuckled as you sent a few quick counter-jinxes out from your wand, restoring Mulciber's range of motion and liquefying the ice that trapped Avery.

As soon as Mulciber was unpetrified he took off running towards the Lake where Lucius was furiously treading water, tripping over his feet as he dragged Wilkes along with him. Avery limped after them, defrosted but still chilled to his bones (which you had been so kind to also restore).

“I'd fish him out quickly if I were you,” you called after them, “the giant squid is more active at night.”

“You're out of your mind, (L/n)!” Avery turned around and yelled, but with fear evident in his eyes, “You'll live to regret this, mark my words. The Headmaster—”

“Would love to know who cast the first spell, I'm sure,” you said darkly.

Avery stammered out some lame response under his breath before turning around and running after the rest of group, retreating.

Sirius turned to look at you, awestruck and chocked full of adrenaline. Maybe you really weren't so bad after all.

“That was. . .” James trailed off, grasping for the words and blurting them out as soon as he found them, “Brilliant, (Y/n). You're bloody brilliant.”

You felt your face heat up, not expecting that. You and James had stopped trading insults and threats (serious ones, anyways) and your teasing had become well meant, but neither of you had crossed the threshold of actually paying the other a compliment before.

“Thanks, Potter,” you said, unable to fight the smile on your face. You turned to Sirius briefly. “I hope this cleared some things up for us,” you said, “I'd really like to try and be friends, so. . .”

“Yeah,” Sirius said, wanting to kick himself at the way you turned him into a monosyllabic neanderthal with just a look. You gave him a small smile before turning back to James who was trying desperately to hide his limp and aching rib cage.

“Alright, let's get you to the hospital wing, Potter,” you sighed, “you look like a cheap action star in a muggle movie.”

“Uh,” James said nervously, “better we not. If I go to Madame Pomfrey three times in one day she'll never let me hear the end of it.”

“And who's fault is that?” You huffed, slinging an arm over his shoulder and helping him walk, “at least let me patch you up, then.”

Sirius followed some distance behind you, watching as you walked James back towards the castle and laughed at his occasional jokes. This one night had just turned everything upside down for Sirius. This whole time he was sure that he didn't like you because you were a blood-purist Slytherin and he was jealous that you were taking his best friend away from him; but the way you had stood up to Lucius and his goons made your position on blood politics very clear, and the tight feeling that struck Sirius' chest as he watched you cozy up with James made him reevaluate just which one of you he was jealous of.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Sirius?”

The man blinked, slowly coming back to reality. You were looking up at him in concern, your head resting lightly on his shoulder. It took an embarrassing amount of his willpower to keep from leaning forward just a few inches and kissing you.

Could you pick a worse time, you numbskull? He thought, mentally smacking himself for even thinking about it.

“Are you okay?” you asked hesitantly after he stayed silent.

“I'm alright,” he insisted, giving you a reassuring smile, “just. . . thinking about how far we've come.”

His answer surprised you, though not in a bad way.

“I suppose we have,” you smiled back, “this is a far cry from you scowling at me from across the Great Hall over your breakfast.”

“I did not scowl,” Sirius scoffed playfully, nudging you away with his shoulder.

“Right,” you grinned, “scowling, glaring, glowering, whichever you prefer.”

“I said I was sorry,” he said, putting his hands up in mock surrender, although you both knew you weren't really upset about it. You'd long since forgiven him for his initial misjudgment.

When your light laughter died down, your head found itself lulling to the side again, tiredness taking over your mind as you rested against Sirius once more. When you tilted your head up to look at him he had a surprisingly pensive look on his face. Your eyes traveled across his expression, his gray eyes almost taking on a deep shade of blue in the shadows of his room. You noticed how much younger he looked when he was smiling; it was in moments like these when it really set in how long you had known each other, because you could see the years in his eyes.

Your own flickered down to his lips in spite of yourself and Sirius' heart skipped a beat, fearing you could feel it racing in his rib cage. When had you turned him so soft? He chuckled inwardly. Long before he had fully come to terms with how he felt about you was the answer. Even when he was in Azkaban, with two of his closest friends dead and the world convinced he was at fault, even if he had to live with the fact that he would never see you again, he still thought of you, and that kept him alive, sane— himself. But now you were here in front of him, and he was terrified that at any moment you would vanish into thin air and he would find himself back in that horrible cinder block cell, face to face with a dementor as it took his last memories of you away from him.

Your hand squeezed his, almost as if you had read his thoughts— as if you were assuring him that you were real, and you weren't going anywhere. You noticed him leaning in closer, even if he didn't, possessed by some invisible force. You were nearly about to meet him halfway when you were suddenly startled apart by the sound of quick, heavy-footed steps bounding down the stairs.

You both looked at each other as if you had just awoken from some sort of trance, instinctively putting some distance between yourselves as you shifted away awkwardly.

“I. . . I should probably get to bed,” you said, your face warm.

“Right,” Sirius said, reluctantly getting up from his seat at the edge of his bed, “I've kept you up long enough, I'm sure you're tired. . .”

Before you left his room you turned over your shoulder, a small smile on your face.

“It's really good to see you again, Sirius,” you said earnestly, “we should catch up for real later.”

“Definitely,” he said, a bit of his old self reflected in that smirk of his, albeit forced.

You steeled yourself, turning the doorknob and closing the door behind you gently before you did something to ruin the friendship you had just gotten back after over a decade. You shook the thought aside, your head hurting. You really did need to sleep after today.

You were about to head into your room, but something in you didn't feel quite right. You'd definitely heard someone go down the stairs, but you hadn't heard the front door open or close. Dread pooled in your stomach at your gut feeling, and you found yourself inexplicably making your way back down the stairs.

The house was eerily silent now that its residents had either gone off to bed or disapparated until the next meeting in a few days time. You'd left Sirius upstairs, and you knew Harry was staying here for the time being until school began, but everyone else had gone home. So then why did you still feel someone else's presence so acutely?

You stared at the empty hallway leading to the front door, taking a cautious step forward; the image in front of you didn't feel real. The colors were too saturated, the edges too sharp, and the surfaces too smooth. And that's when it hit you. The smell of rain. Leather-bound books. Lavender.

You froze, staring at the seemingly empty space in front of you.

“Severus?”

The potions master didn't dare make a sound, thinly veiled behind his invisibility charm but clearly not well enough. He was standing not three feet in front of you, taking in the sight of you as if it were the last thing he would ever see.

He panicked slightly as he felt you reach out to him with your mind, shutting himself off expertly. Your hurt expression as you were unable to detect anything pained him, but he wouldn't dare think that he deserved to say anything to you. What was there to say after everything he'd done?

Your gaze roamed the empty hall, and for a moment he could have sworn you stared him right in the eyes.

You knew he was there.

The moment lasted no longer than a second before you looked away, turning to go back up the stairs. As soon as your back was facing the front door you heard it open then close gently, and the tears you had been fighting to hold back finally spilled over.

Read chapter 4 here !

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