#it's such a telltale sign that someone is just waiting to be worse to you than they already are

[cigarette-room]

i cannot explain how much you need to run when you tell someone they're being bad to you and they go like "oh you haven't met the REAL bad yet" mf ur not the joker from the movie joker i promise u 😭

[imaginespazzi]

Part 12: Fleeting Moments Of Forever

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 13

I let my guard down and you pulled the rug (I was getting kinda used to being someone you loved)

(In which a depressed by recent events author spreads her depression)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff if you squint really hard, Hurt with a little bit of comfort if you squint really hard again (basically just squint you guys!)

Words: 12.3K

TW: Swearing (as per usual), a man (ew), brief reference to parental abandonment

A/N: Good morning/night my lovelies <3 Not quite sure what to say when it's one in the morning and I'm slightly delirious but I'm only a couple of hours late with this. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm sure I will once again be spammed with asks calling me evil, but remember lovelies, it's for the plot! I will be editing this chapter at some point tomorrow because I just really don't have the energy to edit but I wanted to get this out for you guys by tonight. So if you're reading tonight and see mistakes, please feel free to point them out and I'll fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see in the future. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves!

May 2033

~ A few minutes ago ~

Azzi feels like shit as she runs up the stairs behind her daughter. She feels like a shit mother, she feels like a shit sister-in-law-sort-of-kinda-thing and most of all she feels like a shit ex-girlfriend-turned-complicated-current-situationship-or-whatever. And saying those complicated relationship titles in her head only makes her feel worse. Because really it should’ve been so simple; it had been so simple. And Azzi had chosen to make everything complicated and difficult instead. 

Drew’s words had been like a shot going down wrong, an accusation she knew she deserved but one that stung all the same. Paige’s silence -the fact that she hadn’t been able to give Azzi the assurance that she’d forgiven her- had been like the terrible chaser after that only made her feel more nauseous. And the after effects of it had been Azzi exploding all her feelings on her baby girl who’d just wanted some damn soda.

Letting the guilt fester, Azzi pushes open the door to Paige’s bedroom to find Stephie cuddled up against lavender pillows, one of Paige’s few hoodies that hadn’t made it to the Fudd household draped around her tiny little body. Azzi’s heart constricts at the sound of her daughter’s hiccoughs, tightening even more when she notices the wet patch Stephie’s tears have created against the pillow. 

“Stephie-bean,” she says softly as she climbs onto the bed, reaching out to brush a hand across the little girl’s curled up frame. 

“Go away Mama. I’m mad at you,” Stephie’s petulant reply is immediate as she shrugs off Azzi’s hand, furling away further into herself. 

“I know sweetheart-”

“You yelled at me,” Stephie continues, trying to keep her voice as firm as a five-year old’s can be but it’s too many emotions for such a little soul and Azzi can hear the telltale sign of a fresh new set of tears just waiting to fall. 

She tries again, gently pulling Stephie’s back against her chest and this time, there’s little resistance as the little girl goes easily into her mother’s arms. Azzi tightens her arms around Stephie’s waist, pressing a litany of featherlight kisses into her hair in between apologies, “I’m sorry. Mama’s so sorry sweetheart. I shouldn’t’ve yelled like that baby-”

“No you shouldn’t’ve,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, as she turns her body around to face her mother’s and Azzi’s hands instinctively move to wipe away the tears tracks on her face, “you were so loud. I don’t like when you yell.”

“I know bean,” Azzi says, the tight grip of remorse squeezing her heart harder at the melancholy in her daughter’s words, “but Stephie baby you know soda’s bad for you-”

“But it’s Friday Mama and I only wanted a little,” the little girl whines immediately, “I swear Mama I would’ve only had a little bit and then I would brushed my teeth so hard and they’d be sparkling white like this,” she pulls her cheeks wide open so she can bare her pearly white teeth at her mother, “see!”

And despite that heavy pit in her stomach, Azzi can’t help the slight peal of laughter that rumbles throughout her and elicits a matching grin from her daughter. She ruffles the little girl’s hair before pulling her flush against herself, Stephie’s head burrowing itself into the crook of her neck and for the first time tonight, Azzi finally feels like she can breathe again. Because at the end of the day, what matters most is the child wrapped securely in her arms and as long as she has Stephie, Azzi thinks, no matter what, she’ll find a way to survive. For Stephie. 

Something soft and fluffy brushes against her skin and Azzi reluctantly unfocuses from Stephie to find that the arm of the hoodie that had previously been draped over her daughter’s body, is now wrapped around both of them. Paige’s hoodie. She stares at the material, eyes blinking back tears as that wretched feeling of something’s missing whirls around her. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling; this secret craving that Azzi had often found herself hiding away from when she and Stephie were alone. A craving to have Paige there too, a craving for the two of them to be cradled in the blonde’s strong arms, a craving for this almost perfect picture to be complete. And now that she’s had a taste of what it’s like to have that - these past few weeks having felt like a tester of what it could be like to live in a dream that Azzi had thought she was no longer allowed to dream- Azzi wants nothing more than for it to be permanent. 

Another wave of guilt crashes against her as her mind flickers back to the bitter note she’d ended the conversation down stairs on. The stinging emphasis she’d placed on my daughter echoes loudly in her ears and even though Azzi knows that technically she hadn’t said anything untrue, the image of Paige’s face falling -the sparkle in her eyes dimming at the reality of the younger woman’s words- makes Azzi’s heart stutter with regret. There’s a part of her that thinks it’s all happening too fast, a part of her that’s in a constant duel with the rest of herself that’s ready to call Stephie theirs. And she knows it’s only been a couple of weeks -knows that it’s a little insane to have already carved out a place for forever on a shelf that’s plagued with uncertainties- but the truth is that there’s always been an unfilled space in Azzi and Stephie’s world that’s just been waiting for Paige to step in and claim it. It’s always been hers; they’ve always been hers. 

“Mama,” Stephie’s quiet voice mumbles against her chest and Azzi distractedly hums in return, “why does Miss Buecks have to learn to say no to me?”

“Because she likes to say yes a little too much and she definitely likes to say yes to you but if she keeps saying yes all the time, she’s gonna spoil you. Well more than you already are that is,” Azzi teases goodnaturedly, tugging at Stephie’s nose. 

The little girl pouts loudly before indignantly refuting her mother’s statement, “I am not spoiled. I’m a good girl. A very good girl. A very, very, very, very, very-”

‘Okay, okay, okay,” Azzi says, hushing the little girl with a slight laugh before she can continue to repeat herself, “you’re my very good girl who’s just a little bit spoiled.”

“Maybe a little bit,” Stephie admits, scrunching her nose, “but how come you never make Aunty Leen or Aunty J or Aunty Tessie or any of your other teammates say no to me?”

“Because-well,” Azzi struggles to find the words, “Miss Buecks is- she’s just- it’s different and she’s around a lot more,” she’s around all the time, “and so she’s gotta learn to say no to you sometimes.”

“Like Pops had to learn to say no to me if he wanted to keep helping Nana babysit?” Stephie asks earnestly and Azzi laughs at the reminder of how she and Katie had basically had to force Tim into learning how to say no to his persuasive granddaughter. 

“Yeah something like that,” she says with an amused grin. 

“So Miss Buecks is like-” Stephie pauses, hesitating slightly before a soft smile -one that bears an uncanny resemblance to the one her mother sometimes has when thinking of the same woman- appears on her face, “she’s like family?”

Azzi’s breath hitches in her throat; the delicate mix of sincerity and innocence in her daughter’s voice makes her pause. Because Stephie says it like it’s the most simple yet most important truth in the word, that’s it’s common knowledge she’s known all her life. Paige is family. 

“Yeah,” the brunette breathes out finally, the edges of her lips slightly upturning into a grin that matches her daughter’s, “I guess she is.”

Stephie nods quietly as she mulls over her mother’s answer and Azzi can practically see the cogs turning in her brain before her daughter’s dark brown thoughtful eyes look back up at her, “so does that mean we can keep Miss Buecks forever?”

“I-’

“I mean cause you said she’s family right?” Stephie babbles on, ignoring the way Azzi’s eyes have widened considerably, “and family- family is forever right Mama? That’s what they say? So- so if Miss Buecks is family that means she has to stay forever? We get to keep her forever?”

Azzi blinks rapidly at the onslaught of words falling from her daughter’s lips. Stephie makes it sound so simple; she makes a forever with the three of them sound like a given, like something that’s meant to be. And it makes her think of that night eight years ago, when Paige had made it sound just as simple. 

Be mine forever. 

It was Azzi who had made it complicated; obsolete even. 

But, she thinks, she won’t this time. As she looks back down at her daughter, the hopeful smile on Stephie’s face as she awaits Azzi’s answer, feels a little bit like fate is giving her another chance; a clear sky to re-write her own destiny in the stars. This time, with Paige. 

“Do you- do you want that,” Azzi asks slowly, “do you want to keep Miss Buecks forever?”

If possible Stephie’s smile grows even larger as she gives her mother what can only be described as a ‘duh’ look, “of course Mama. I want Miss Buecks forever and ever and ever. You want that too don’t you Mama?”

Azzi pauses for a second, letting herself be immersed in the idea. 

“Yeah,” she says softly, her eyes suddenly misty. And she knows that there’s still so much left unresolved, that tonight had revealed a chiasm of problems they’d have to still build a bridge over to get back to each other. But for a chance at a forever Azzi had thought she’d long forsaken, Azzi’s willing to try, “yeah I think I’d like to keep Miss Buecks forever too.”

The squeal Stephie lets out practically bounces off the walls in tandem with the little girl springing off the bed and Azzi laughs as her daughter wraps her small hands around her mother’s much larger ones, trying to tug her along. 

“Stephie wait sweetheart, what are you doing? Where are you going?”

Stephie sighs impatiently, “we’re going to Miss Buecks, Mama. We can’t just make this decision without her,” she continues matter-of-factly, “we have to tell her.”

“Tell her what Stephie?” Azzi laughs as she finally lets her daughter pull her off the bed and start dragging her out the door. 

“We have to tell her that she’s family and we have to tell her that we want to keep her forever.”

***

They’re about halfway down the stairs when Azzi begins to hear the whispered hissing of an argument between Paige and Drew going on in the kitchen and she feels dread wrap itself around her whole body. It doesn’t take a genius to gauge that it’s likely about her -more specifically about her and Paige’s relationship- and suddenly it feels like something dark has been cast all over her, stomping out the brightness that she’d felt just mere moments ago. 

Azzi hesitates on the last few steps, causing Stephie to impatiently look up at her as she contemplates whether or not to interrupt whatever altercation is going on in the kitchen. For as long as she’d known them, Paige and Drew had never seriously fought but then again, when Azzi had known them, Drew had been a child; a kid who would never have doubted his sister's decision, or Azzi’s for that matter. But the man that had walked into their lives tonight is one that had been witness -perhaps even a victim- to all the terrible decisions the two of them had made in the last eight years. It’s only natural, Azzi thinks, that he’d be wary of their relationship. He’d seen the burn marks that their relationship catching on fire had left on his sister’s skin and it was only natural that he’d blame the woman who’d held the matches. 

“Mama,” Stephie presses as she tugs at Azzi’s hand, “come on,” she whines, “I wanna see Miss Buecks.”

“Steph-” Azzi tries to say, her instincts going haywire when she hears Paige’s voice more clearly now -stop it Drew- but then Stephie pulls hard and she’s practically tripping down the rest of the stairs, trying to keep balance as the little girl holding her hand continues to drag her towards the kitchen. 

They’re still speaking too quietly for Azzi to pick up exactly what they’re saying but there’s a resigned urgency in Drew’s voice and a fearful sadness in Paige’s that makes bile rise at the back of her throat and suddenly Azzi’s very sure that whatever this conversation is, she really doesn’t want to hear it. But her feet keep moving, letting Stephie lead the way as the claws of it takes a second for everything to fall apart sink into her heart. 

“-there’s a reason you only wanted to be here for this season,” Azzi hears Drew say as they finally reach the kitchen door and she forces Stephie to a halt. Every part of her is screaming to take her daughter and turn away, to not listen to wherever this conversation she clearly wasn’t meant to hear is going.

“I know,” Paige whispers and Azzi’s heart stutters as she takes in the blonde’s red-rimmed eyes as she leans against the table, “I know.”

Azzi opens her mouth, ready to alert the brother-sister duo of their presence but before she can say anything, Drew’s speaking again and as the words roll out of his mouth, Azzi feels her blood run cold. 

“Stick to the plan Paige. Let the Liberty be the end goal. You’ll be in New York by the end of October.”

The plan. Liberty. New York. October. 

The words run around in a frenzy through Azzi’s brain creating a mixture of confusion battling with the sense of an unwanted realization that makes her feel dizzy. It’s like someone pricking a needle against the bubble of forever she’d just let herself believe in and there’s a loud pop echoing in her head. The noise hurts. Azzi had known Paige’s contract with GSV was only for a year; she’d even considered -perhaps even expected- that when Paige had signed it, she probably wasn’t planning on staying forever. 

But that was then. 

Surely things would be different now. 

“Miss Buecks,” Azzi’s dragged out of the cacophony of her mind by the sound of her daughter speaking. Stephie’s voice is wracked with fragility as she clings tightly onto her mother’s hand, her face morphed into a combination of betrayal and please tell me i’m wrong as she looks at Paige, whose face has gone ashen at the sight of the two of them standing by the doorway, “you’re moving to New York?”

“Stephie,” Paige whispers, eyes brimming with tears as she falls to her knees in front of the little girl, hand moving to grip her her shoulders, “sweetheart I-”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie says again, her usually boisterous tone replaced by a meek, desperate one, “are you going to New York? Are you- are you,” her voice breaks and the next words come out in a barely there whisper, “are you leaving us?”

Say no, Azzi thinks, please say no, say you aren’t leaving, promise you’d never leave. But as she watches Paige open and close her mouth, choking on air as she tries to give an answer, she knows it’s wishful thinking, knows that it’s a promise Paige isn’t going to make. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s voice is shaking, holding back her tears as tight as she’s holding onto the hope that Paige will give her the answer she wants- the answer she needs, “are you leaving us?”

“I-” Paige bites her lip, hands running up and down Stephie’s shoulder and arms, almost like she’s trying to memorize what it feels like to be able to touch her, almost like, she’s not sure when she'll get the chance to have her this close again again, “I don’t- I don’t know sweetheart I-” 

It’s the wrong answer and Azzi closes her eyes as Paige cuts herself off with a small gasp of air when Stephie rips herself out of the blonde's grasp

“No,” the little girl says harshly, pushing herself behind her mothers legs. 

“Stephie-bean,” Paige says helplessly, looking from the little girl to Azzi. 

“No, no, no, no,” Stephie says; each no is louder than the last, “how you don’t know? You’re an ‘dult. ‘Dults are big. They know everything so how you don't know Miss Buecks?”

“It’s not that simple bean-” Paige tries to say, her hands outstretched towards the little girl, fingers clenching and unclenching like they don’t know how to be still unless they’re clasping onto her. 

“It is,” Stephie yells, “are you leaving us or not? Yes or no Miss Buecks?”

“I-” the blonde splutters, still unsure of what to say. 

“Stephie,” it’s Azzi who cuts Paige off this time, opening her eyes as she bends down in front of her daughter, pulling the little girl into a hug, “baby it’s okay. It’s going to be okay-”

“No it’s not,” Stephie screams as she wrangles herself out of her mother’s grip, the force of it causing Azzi to stumble backwards and something like if you’re going to hold me, hold me forever catches in her throat when Paige instinctively reaches out an arm to wrap around the her waist to keep her steady. The contact makes Azzi shiver and she has to fight the urge to let her shoulders relax, the urge to let herself melt into the warmth that Paige has always exuded.  They stare at each other for a second, Azzi trying to drown herself in the ocean blue of the blonde’s eyes as Paige tries to find some semblance of stability to hold onto in the brunette’s earthy ones. 

“Azzi,” Paige breathes out, that one syllable coated in layers of emotions that Azzi thinks she’d be willing to spend an eternity peeling through if it would bring her one step closer to keeping the woman in front of her from leaving, from going to fucking New York. 

“Mama I wanna go home,” Stephie’s adamant voice pierces through the silence and Azzi tears her gaze away from Paige -but not before she can catch a brief glance of the older woman’s face contorting in pain- to look up at her daughter's cloudy face. 

“Stephie-bean,” Paige speaks before Azzi can, heartbreak laced in her tone as she practically pleads with the little girl, “sweetheart please-”

“You promised you’d try to stay” Stephie bursts out, big fat tears cascading down her small face, “do you even rem-ber? At Nana and Pops’s house when I was scared you left you promised you’d try. But you’re not- you’re not even trying to stay Miss Buecks,” the little girl accuses, “you- you- you lied to me Miss Buecks.”

“I didn’t Stephie- I didn’t lie-” Paige tries to explain between her own tears and they’re still pressed so close together that Azzi can feel every shake of the older woman’s body against her own, “I didn’t lie sweetheart. I’m still- I’m still trying-”

“You’re not-”

“I am. I am Stephie. It’s just-” Paige’s eyes flicker towards Azzi who flinches at the unspoken implication, “it’s complicated.”

“Then un-comp-icate it,” Stephie stomps her feet petulantly before a series of heavy sobs wracked her tiny body and she heaves loudly, clutching at her chest. 

Concern floods through Azzi’s veins as she shuffles towards her daughter, still on her knees and Paige follows her lead, the two of them inching closer, “Stephie-”

Something shifts as Stephie looks at the two of them through tear-stained eyelashes; the anger and fight slowly dissolving into the air. And then, if possible, her face crumples even more before she’s falling into Paige’s lap, one arm tightly wrapping around the blonde’s neck as her other hand reaches out to grab onto Azzi’s bicep, binding the three of them together in a mess of limbs on the cold kitchen floor. 

“Please don’t go Miss Buecks,” Stephie wails as Paige clutches the little girl firmly against her chest, her hands brushing through her dark curls as she tries to comfort her, “please, please, please Miss Buecks I don’t want you to go. Don’t go to New York. Please don’t go. Please stay- stay with me and Mama forever. Please Miss Buecks.”

“Stephie-”

“Please don’t leave us Miss Buecks,” Stephie cries, her breathing unnaturally heavy as she shakes in Paige’s arms and Azzi reaches out a hand to soothe her back, trying and failing to keep her own tears at bay. Azzi’s chest tightens as Stephie continues to babble, begging Paige to stay as the blonde continues to hold her, droplets of water streaming down her face as she gently rocks the little girl back and forth. Because despite the way Paige has practically melded Stephie’s little body into her own, Azzi can see the way that the older woman still can’t seem to say the words that the little girl wants to hear, can’t seem to bring herself to guarantee forever. And it feels like the threads of the dream she’d just started weaving, are slipping out of her fingertips. 

Azzi doesn’t know how long they sit there -Stephie still pleading in Paige’s arms and Azzi stroking her back- but eventually her daughter’s words begin to turn into nonsense, her breathing slowly evening out until there’s nothing but silence; the gravity of her emotions having lulled her to sleep. The silence is deafening as Azzi tries to figure out what exactly she should do next, take her daughter and run or succumb to that part of herself that wants to follow Stephie’s lead and beg Paige to never leave them. She still doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, what sort of plan Paige has about moving to New York and if she’s honest with herself, there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to know; a part of her that wants to go back to ignorant bliss they’d been living in for the last few weeks. But as she stares at the dried tear tracks staining her daughter’s face -that familiar guilt of all we do is hurt the people around us reverberating between her and Paige- Azzi knows there’s no going back. 

“We should talk,” Paige says finally, her voice small as she looks at Azzi, “please.”

Azzi swallows as she wipes at her tears, ignoring the way Paige’s eyes trace her fingers, like they wish it was her brushing them away instead. She ignores the part of heart that wants that too, wants Paige’s comfort, just wants Paige. 

“Yeah, yeah I guess we should,” she says finally, “but um- I should- um,” she gestures towards Stephie’s sleeping body, “should uh- probably put her to bed first.”

“Right- yeah- yeah of course,” Paige nods awkwardly as Azzi reaches to pry Stephie off of her. 

The little girl lets out a low sleepy whine, her hands tightening around Paige’s neck, “no Miss Buecks don’t let me go.”

“Stephie,” Azzi’s heart breaks at the fear etched on her daughter’s face, despite being fast asleep, at the idea of being taken away from her Miss Buecks. 

“I’ve got you sweetheart,” Paige whispers softly against the little girl’s hair before looking back at Azzi, her eyes swimming with guilt, “I can- I can take her upstairs.”

A part of Azzi wants to say no, wants to start taking out stitches in the places where Stephie and Paige have already sewn themselves together. There’s a part of her that regrets having ever given them the needle in the first place, a part of her that wishes she’d never let her daughter get so attached, when there were so many uncertainties about the strength of the thread between them. 

But instead she says, “fine,” as she follows Paige up the stairs, heart constricting at the softness with which the other woman holds her little girl. 

“Put her in one of the guest rooms,” Azzi calls out quietly when Paigs starts to turn into her own room. 

The blonde stops in her tracks, turning around to face Azzi and she has to look away when she sees the stricken expression on Paige’s face. They were meant to be having a sleepover. The night was supposed to end with the three of them curled in Paige’s bed, supposedly watching some random movie but in actuality, Stephie would have dosed off in the middle of it and Paige and Azzi, with their hands entwined over the little girl’s body, would have spent the rest of it talking about everything and nothing. That’s how it was meant to go; it was meant to have been just another night like any of the other ones they’d spent together the last couple of weeks. But now that normalcy seems like an out of reach fairytale. 

“Az-” Paige tries to argue but there isn’t much fight in it and just the slight defeated shake of Azzi’s head is enough to have the older woman biting her lip and doing as she’s asked.

Azzi hangs back by the doorway as Paige gently places Stephie down on the bed, pulling up the moss green covers over the little girl’s body. It feels wrong, Azzi thinks, as her mind drifts back to a few moments ago when Stephie had been cuddled in Paige’s purple bedsheets; that had felt right, like a place her daughter could truly belong. She shuffles her feet nervously as she watches Paige caress Stephie’s cheeks before pressing her lips against the little girl’s forehead. 

“I love you Miss Buecks,” Azzi hears Stephie mutter and she digs her fingernails into her palms. 

Paige lets out a quiet whimper, shuddering slightly as she echoes the words back, “I love you more Stephie-bean.”

That should be enough, Azzi thinks, it should be enough that Stephie loves Paige and Paige loves Stephie to keep them together. And it’s not fair that it isn’t but if there’s anyone that knows that sometimes love isn’t quite enough to keep two people together, it’s Azzi. There’s too much there, too much history and she’d been naive to think the past wouldn’t cast a dark shadow on her present. 

The walk back downstairs feels like it takes an eternity; like they’re climbing back down from a tall mountain. Azzi walks ahead of Paige and she can feel the blonde’s gaze lingering on her back, can practically feel the tension vibrating off of her body at the prospect of the talk they’re about to have. Drew stands at the bottom of the stairs, nervously pacing with his hands stuffed in his pocket. His eyes move up to meet Azzi’s when she finally reaches the last step and he looks a lot like the little boy who’d once accidentally spilled a glass of water all over one of her favorite books. He has that same guilty look he’d had back then when he’d apologized profusely, swearing he’d save up all his pocket money just to buy her another one.

“I’m sorry,” Drew says in a rush, “I didn’t know you guys were coming back down and I didn’t know Stephie was gonna hear that-any of that. I swear Azzi- you know I wouldn’t have said any of that shit if I knew she was gonna hear-”

“It’s fine Drew,” Azzi reassures him, hesitating slightly before reaching out a hand to gently pat his cheek and she’s relieved when he doesn’t immediately back away, “I know you didn’t mean to.”

Drew lets out a small sigh of relief, “okay good cause I really didn’t. I uh-” his gaze flutters between Paige and Azzi, “I’ll um- I’ll let you guys talk now,” he pauses in front of Paige, who looks about as miserable as Azzi feels, “love you no matter what Paigey,” he whispers before giving her a quick peck on her forehead and squeezing her shoulder. 

And then it’s just the two of them and the heavy burden of everything they can no longer ignore. 

***

April 2027

Azzi grips the armrest tightly, her eyes screwed shut as the plane shakes rapidly while preparing to land. For someone who’s pretty-well travelled and has dealt with her fair share of turbulent plane rides, Azzi still finds herself going ridgid every time an aircraft she’s on starts getting a little too bumpy. She can practically hear Paige’s teasing voice -even after all this time- calling her a big baby but the blonde would have laced their fingers together anyway, distracted her with some random story and she’d have held on to her hand -no matter how sweaty- until the plane stopped moving. 

God, Azzi misses her so fucking much. 

But hopefully she won’t have to for much longer. Azzi’s not quite sure what’ll happen after she lands in Dallas, hasn’t -in a very un-Azzi-like step- even really practiced what she wants to say. But, and she knows it’s a little dramatic but she thinks she can probably come up with a mix of apologizing, begging for forgiveness and declaring her undying love that would atleast get Paige to consider giving her another chance. 

There’s this hollow ache in her chest that hasn’t gone away for the last two years. And Azzi had tried to ignore it, had tried to shift her focus to everything else -everything good- that was happening in her life. But even after she’d had an All-American last season at UConn, even after she’d let that team to a back-to-back national championship, even after she’d been the first pick of the 2026 draft to GSV, even after she’d won rookie of the year, there was a still lingering pain -a deep rooted sense of something she’d lost- etched through her whole body. The thing is that Azzi knows she can survive -can even succeed- without Paige- but she doesn’t want to. Not anymore. 

The decision was a long-time coming, the inevitable leap of faith to chase after what she wanted most in the world. But it had all clicked into place at the most mundane of times. She’d been at the park on her regular morning run and she’d seen a family -two women who’d looked at each other like they’d stop breathing if they looked away and their beautiful baby girl who was happily swinging in between them- and suddenly everything else had felt so insignificant in comparison. She’d been forced to admit the truth she’d been trying so hard to run away from. That was the future Azzi wanted -perhaps not immediately but eventually- and she wanted it with Paige. 

Azzi hadn’t let herself overthink it, knowing that if she gave herself enough time, she’d more than likely talk herself out of it. Instead, she’d booked the tickets from San Francisco to Dallas in a rush and then called Ice -the newly anointed Dallas Wing rookie- and it hadn’t taken much to convince her former teammate - who’d all but squealed at the idea of her ‘parents getting back together’- to pick her up from the airport and drive her straight to Paige’s. 

“She’s gonna be so happy,” Ice had assured her, “I mean I’ve only been here like a week but I know for sure she misses you Az. Oh my god this is so exciting,” and Azzi had laughed as she’d listened to the sound of her friend giddily clapping, “I’m so excited for the two of you. You belong together.”

A serene smile crosses Azzi’s face, and she knows it must look a little ridiculous just smiling to herself like this, but all she can think about is that she’d be with Paige soon. And she’s not naive enough to think that everything would miraculously be okay; she knows just how deeply her rejection must have pierced into Paige’s soul. But if the other woman gives her the chance, Azzi’s ready to spend an eternity making it up to her. 

She sucks in a deep breath as the wheels of the plane collide with the runway, her eyes crinkling slightly as she realizes the weather app had lied to her and instead of the ambient evening she’d expected, it’s torrential downpour outside. In hindsight, maybe that should have been her first sign. But for now, Azzi smiles at the raindrops trickling down the window, clichéd memories of kissing in the rain -”baby come on, it's romantic, who cares if we get sick”- flooding her brain. 

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Dallas Fort Worth International Airport. The time outside is currently 7 pm in the evening. We hope you had a good flight and on behalf of Delta Airlines, we wish you a pleasant stay,” the pilot’s voice croons throughout the speakers as Azzi fidgets with her necklace, her last Christmas gift from Paige. 

Just a little while longer baby. I’m coming to you. Forever. 

***

The nerves she’d kept at bay hit Azzi all at once as soon as she climbs into Ice’s car; the thoughts of everything that could possibly go wrong barrage into her mind as she watches the windshield wipers furiously fight against the rain. What if Paige doesn’t wanna see her? What if Paige isn’t willing to give her another chance? What if Paige hates her? 

“Dude,” Ice groans, briefly looking away from the road to flick Azzi’s arm, “I can literally hear you thinking. Chill the fuck out!”

“I’m trying,” Azzi whines, leaning her head against the cool window, “Fuck, Ice what if this is the dumbest shit I’ve ever done in my life? What if she sees me and is like ‘what the fuck are you doing here,’ what if she tells me go home? Oh my god Ice why the fuck did you let me do this?”

“Let you?” Ice splutters indignantly, “oh no no no. You are not putting this on me. You didn’t even let me say anything when you called. It was literally ‘hey Ice, I’m coming to Dallas, make sure you pick me up in 6 hours okay thanks’ and next thing I know you’re in Dallas,” the younger girl mimics the phone-call as Azzi continues to groan. 

“This is why I leave the spontaneous shit up to Paige,” she says, stressfully rubbing her face. 

“Yeah but-” Ice gives her a lopsided grin, her tone softening considerably, “she’s gonna love that you did this for her Az. Trust me dude- the two of you- you’re meant to be. Everyone’s always known that. She’s gonna be so fucking happy to see you.”

“Thank Icey,” Azzi says softly, dragging in another deep breath, “I needed to hear that.”

“Any time Az, any time,” Ice reaches over to squeeze her hand and Azzi finally lets herself relax into her seat. 

The rest of the car ride consists of reminiscing their time at UConn -it’s strange to think that they’re both alums now- and Ice telling Azzi stories about her move from Connecticut to Texas. Anticipation builds in Azzi’s stomach as she glances at the GSP, eyes fixating on the ‘3 minutes till your destination’ bubble on the bottom left corner. 

Her destination. 

Azzi thinks no matter how much she’d tried to fight, no matter how much she’d tried to turn and walk the other way, all roads were always meant to lead here. Paige was always meant to be her final destination. She’s not one for fairytales, doesn’t think life began with once upon a time, but as Ice’s car comes to halt opposite the blonde’s apartment, Azzi hopes that her life has a happily ever after where she and Paige get to write the ending of their stories together. 

“We’re here,” Ice says slowly, smiling ear to ear as she turns towards Azzi, “go get your girl.”

“Okay, okay-” Azzi whispers to herself, “you’ve got this Azzi. Just fall to your knees and tell her you’re sorry and that you love her,” she shoves Ice when the younger girl snorts at her little pep talk and then breathes in deeply, “it’s gonna be okay. I’ve got this. I’ve got this!”

“You’ve got this,” Ice affirms, forever a supportive child.

Taking one more breath, Azzi’s just about to step outside, when she sees her. Paige is walking, almost running towards her apartment. Despite the rain, in typical Paige-fashion, the blonde doesn’t have an umbrella. Strands of wet hair are plastered against her forehead and little droplets of rain cascade down her face and neck. Her shirt sticks to her body so that Azzi can see the definition of her abs and the younger woman would love to take a moment to appreciate just how fucking hot Paige looks but instead, her eyes follow the bulge of the blonde’s biceps down to where her hands are interlocked with someone else’s. Someone else who’s not Azzi. 

She gasps for air but she swears it’s carbon dioxide that settles in her lungs instead because god, does it burn. 

Paige is laughing, eyes twinkling as she and a beautiful woman -a beautiful woman who isn’t Azzi- race to get out of the rain. She hears Ice curse behind her, sounding just as confused as she feels as the two of them watch the scene unfold in front of them, watching Paige and the woman come to halt right in front of the blonde’s apartment building. 

“Az maybe we should-”

“Who is that?” Azzi cuts Ice off, her eyes still transfixed on the two smiling women. 

Ice sighs, “her name’s Olivia. She’s a reporter for the Dallas Morning News-”

“And who is she to Paige?” Azzi asks bitterly, as if she doesn’t know the answer, as if the way Paige is wrapping an arm around that woman’s waist isn’t enough of an answer in itself. 

“I don’t know. Azzi I swear I didn’t know she had a-” Ice hesitates, “she hasn’t told me anything about another woman. 

Azzi doesn’t say anything, hand tightly gripping the car door she hadn’t even had a chance to open as she watches Paige brush a loose strand of hair out of the woman’s face. 

The tip of the dagger pierces against her heart. 

The woman smiles at Paige as she wraps her arms around the blonde’s neck and now they’re pressed flush against each other, barely any space between them. 

The dagger digs deeper. 

Paige caresses the woman’s cheeks. 

The dagger twists. 

It happens in slow motion; Paige moving ever so slowly as she presses her lips against the woman’s. 

And the dagger lodges itself somewhere so deep inside Azzi, she thinks it might be permanently entrenched inside her soul. 

It’s funny, Azzi thinks as she watches the two women break apart -their hands intertwining again as they start walking into the apartment- anyone else watching this scene would perhaps think of it as something straight out of a romantic comedy. But to Azzi, it feels like the climax scene of a tragedy. 

“Can you take me back to the airport?” she says slowly, still watching Paige’s retreating back. 

“What- no Azzi I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ice disagrees immediately, “c’mon we’ll go back to my place and I swear I have some good vodka left over from my housewarming party-”

“Ice please,” Azzi begs, her voice hoarse, “I just wanna go home. Please.”

“Okay, okay. Whatever you say Azzi,” Ice concedes softly, already starting to pull away from the curb.

“You can’t tell her about this, you know that right?” 

“Az-”

“No Ice. She’s moved on and she’s allowed to move on,” the words feel like thorns on the tip of her tongue, “she looks happy. I won’t ruin that. You can’t tell her. You can’t ever tell her.”

“Fine,” Ice nods reluctantly, “I won’t say anything.”

Azzi allows herself one more look back at the apartment, allows herself one more second to dream of Paige running back outside, spotting her and telling her that all of this is just one big misunderstanding, telling her that she hasn’t found someone else, telling her that she’s still Azzi’s. But dreams aren’t reality. No, reality is the fact that Paige looked happy, looked happy with someone that wasn’t Azzi. And even if that damn fucking dagger -sharpened with the image of Paige and someone else- is making her bleed out, Azzi thinks that her heart will still a find way to keep beating, as long as she knows that Paige is happy. 

*** 

The almost two thousand dollar last-minute flight back to San Francisco passes by in a blur. Azzi feels like she’s sleep-walking as she gets into the uber, pressing play on a voice message Ice had left her from after she’d gotten on the plane. 

“Azzi please text or call me as soon as you land. I’m really worried about you dude. I’m so fucking sorry. I had no idea. I texted Adam after -he’s a team manager that’s really close with Paige- and I guess she and Olivia have been dating since the end of the season last year but Paige is keeping it highkey on the DL like the team barely knows and I swear Az- I didn’t know. Fuck please don’t do anything stupid Azzi. Text me as soon as you hear this and then just- just go home and sleep and call me tomorrow morning. I love you Az, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Since the end of the season, Azzi thinks slowly, her brain still a fuddled mess. That meant that Paige had been with someone for almost eight months. And Azzi knows she has no right to feel this hurt, let alone feel that tiny spark of betrayal that’s lingering underneath it. She’s the one that had let go; it’s only natural that Paige would eventually find someone else to hold on to. 

“Where to Miss?” the uber driver asks as Azzi’s typing out a short ‘landed’ text to Ice. 

It’s almost two in the morning and sleep prickles against Azzi’s eyes, her body feeling barely functional but the urge to just forget is stronger than the wave of tiredness washing over her body. And so she ignores every good instinct she has and instead of giving the cab drive her home address, Azzi tells him to drive to the nearest bar instead. 

It’s a heat-of-the-moment decision -taken as sordid images of Paige wrapped around another woman cloud her ability to think- and she doesn’t know it’s about to change the trajectory of her whole life.

***

May 2033 

The silence in the living room is deafening as Paige and Azzi find themselves sitting on opposite sides of the sofa. Azzi’s fingers tap against her thighs; resisting the impulse to reach over and touch the other girl, comfort her and be comforted in return. This night has felt like one of the longest in her life, all the hits falling like dominoes with the two of them at the end of the line. And perhaps it’s the way she’s starting to feel the bruises now as she absorbs everything that’s happened tonight that has her thinking fuck it and turning to Paige with a pleading look on her face. 

“Can you just-” Azzi hesitates as she scooches just slightly closer to the other woman who regards the movement with wide eyes, “I know- I know we have to talk and we will but I just- it’s been a long night and I’m just so fucking tired and I just- I miss you-” she says and she’s not sure how it’s possible when Paige has been here the whole night but it’s the truth, “and I just- can you just hold me? Please?”

Paige is so still that for a moment Azzi thinks maybe she’s asked for too much but then the older woman is moving -so fast like she’s scared the brunette will change her mind- and Azzi feels herself being lifted sideways onto Paige’s lap. The blonde’s grip is iron tight as Azzi buries her head into the crevice of her neck, breathing in the smell of all things Paige. She reaches her hand out gently, placing it against the older woman’s chest, trying to stabilize the two of them to the steady beat of Paige’s heart as the other woman rubs her hand up and down Azzi’s back. They stay like that for god knows how long and Azzi wishes she could just keep them like this forever, in each other’s arms. 

But they need to talk. 

And Azzi reluctantly untangles herself Paige, closing her eyes when the blonde lets out a soft whimper. She doesn’t move all the way to the other end of the sofa this time; choosing instead to sit right next to Paige with their legs pressed togethers and it’s not nearly enough -too little when all she wants is to be consumed by Paige-  but at least it’s something. 

“I was going to tell you tonight,” Paige starts slowly, “you remember in the car when I said I would explain the whole Angie thing to you, well that- that’s part of this whole mess.”

Azzi furrows her eyebrows, “Angie? What does- what does she have to do with this?”

“I’ll get there okay- just- just let me start from the beginning,” Paige says nervously, “just listen okay.”

Biting her lip, Azzi nods, signaling for the older woman to continue. 

“I didn’t want to come to GSV-”

“Because of me?”

Paige sighs, “yes. It- it just- it felt like such a bad idea at the time. You broke my heart Az,” she shoots Azzi an apologetic look when she flinches at the bluntness of it, “and coming here- being around you- I was scared it was gonna be a reminder of that all the time. Every time I’ve seen you these last couple of years Az- it’s hurt. And I just didn’t- I couldn’t live with that every day.”

It’s not something Azzi wants to here but she understands it; she’d felt the exact same way when Colleen had first told her about GSV being interested in Paige. 

“But more than anything,” Paige continues, “I was scared that coming here meant giving you a chance to do it again. Because the two of us being together for more than just a fleeting moment- well it felt inevitable that something would happen and I was just so scared that it would be something bad. And so I fought Talia every step of the way until she forced me to come here and I met Stephie,” a soft smile flitters across the blonde’s face, “and she just- she said I’d look good in purple.”

Azzi laughs, “and that’s all it took huh?”

“You know me. A little bit of flattery will get you everywhere,” Paige grins, “but it wasn’t just her,” she nudges Azzi, “it was you. I was so sure you were gonna tell me to turn it down, tell me that there was no way this was gonna work. But you didn’t. You’re always surprising me I guess. Baby you said you wanted me on your team and that was it for me. No matter how much I said I needed time to think or whatever, as soon as you asked me to come here, I knew I was a Valkyrie.”

“I lied to Colleen that it was for the team,” Azzi admits, “think I even lied to myself about it that I wanted you here to help us win a championship. And yeah maybe that was a little bit of it but I just-” she looks down shyly at her lap, “I just wanted you. Here. With me.”

They’re quiet for a little bit, letting their confession dangle in the air until Azzi breaks it, her mind back to focusing on the revelation from before, “I don’t get it then Paige- what was Drew talking about then? What is this whole plan thing with the Liberty? Being in New York by October? I know your contract is for a year but I just-” she shrugs, “I just assumed you were gonna renew with us so where- where does New York even come into play in all of this? I’m just- I’m just so confused.”

Paige chews at her bottom lip and fidgets with her fingers, two tell-tale signs of her nerves as she keep her gaze firmly away from meeting Azzi’s, “I guess- I guess all my fighting against GSV got through to Talia and after I’d made up my mind to sign with the Valkyries, she- she figured out a verbal deal with the Liberty. They didn’t- they didn’t have the money for me this year but next year with Sabrina retiring- next year they will and GSV knew they were gonna get Angie to be their point guard of the future and it all just- it all made sense. I’d stay here for a year, mentor Angie so she could be my replacement for next year and then I’d-” 

“Then you’d leave,” Azzi says bitterly and this time it’s Paige who flinches, “but you said- you said Stephie and I convinced you to come here- so- so what? We only convinced you to come for a year?” she asks, her tone sharper than she intended it to be. 

“No it wasn’t- it wasn’t like that,” Paige tries to justify, “I just- it scared me how easy it was for me to be convinced. It was one moment with Stephie- one moment with you- and I was ready to make a decision for my future based just off of those two little moments. Do you know how scary that is? And I knew- I knew that coming here- being around the two of you would just- it would make me fall so fucking fast -and it has- and I was just so scared that I’d get my heart broken again and I just- I needed an escape plan.”

“You needed an excuse to leave us,” Azzi says venomously. 

“That’s not fair Azzi,” Paige says quietly, “you have to understand how afraid I was of history repeat itself Az,” she reaches for the younger woman’s hand, enveloping it between her own, “when I lost you the first time, I was so fucking broken and it took me so long to fix myself- I- I don’t even know if I did ever fully fix me. You can’t blame me for being scared of having to go through it again.”

Azzi’s quiet for a second before she finally lets out a sigh because Paige is right and she can’t- she won’t hold whatever decision the other woman had made before they’d found their way back to each other, against her. 

“Okay. Okay. I- I get it. I get why you were scared. I get why you had a whole backup plan and-,” she grins teasingly at the blonde, “and now I also get why you were such a bitch to Angie.”

Paige laughs a little, pressing her forehead against Azzi’s and closing her eyes, letting themselves melt into a comfortable silence as they bask in each other’s presence and for a moment’s Azzi feels floaty and free until Drew’s words replay themselves inside her head. 

“Paige,” she says slowly, earning a little hum of acknowledgement from the other woman, “it’s over now though right? The deal- you- you’re gonna tell the Liberty that it’s off? No more New York right? Not even as an escape plan?”

The blonde stiffens, her eyes opening immediately. 

“Paige,” Azzi presses, lifting her forehead so she can study the older woman’s face properly,  the false comfort of a few seconds ago being replaced by a leaden pit in her stomach. 

“I- I don’t know,” Paige whispers, so quietly that it takes a couple of seconds for Azzi’s ears to even pick it up. But when it does finally register -the repeat of what she’d said to Stephie-  it feels like something’s slowly cracking inside Azzi, until the cracks get larger and larger and something shatters, the pieces of it lodging themselves in every organ of her body.

“You don’t-” Azzi swallows, pulling her hands out Paige’s, “you don’t know?”

“Az-”

“No,” Azzi holds her hand out in a stop sign as Paige tries to grab for her, “how- how can you not know,” she keeps speaking even when the blonde tries to reply, “Paige you- you were the one who pushed for this. You were the one who begged- who convinced me to try. Why- why would you do that? What have we been doing for the last few weeks Paige if you’re still thinking about leaving at the end of the season? God Paige- how can you even say that you don’t know?”

“I thought I did,” Paige bumbles out, “these past few weeks have been everything to me Azzi and I thought I knew but tonight- everything Drew said-” she stops suddenly and Azzi knows whatever the young man had said isn't something Paige wants to repeat back to her. 

“What did Drew say?”

Paige hesitates, “he thinks you’re gonna break my heart and that I’ll lose you and that I’ll-” she clutches her throat like the next words are physically painful to say, “that I’ll lose Stephie.”

“And you- you think he’s right?”

There’s heartbreak etched all over Paige’s face as she shrugs helplessly, “you’ve done it before Az. You let me go. You- you said no-”

“And you’re one who left,” Azzi bursts out, tears cascading down her face as she rises to her feet. 

Paige guffaws up at her, “what?”

“I know I said no but you left literally the next fucking day before I could say anything else. God Paige, I know I fucked up and I know that it’s mainly my fault. Trust me I’ve regretted it every single day,” Azzi sobs, “but you- you left Paige. I know I let you go but you didn’t hold on to me either. You just- you left.”

“Azzi-”

“I understand why you had an escape plan before,” Azzi says, wiping away her tears, “but I can’t be with you if you still have one now. Especially not when Stephie’s involved. She’s already so fucking attached and if you can’t promise not to leave her then I- I can’t let her get anymore attached. I can’t watch my baby girl cry like she did tonight- not again Paige.”

“Azzi,” Paige says again, like it's the only word she knows; the only word that matters. 

Azzi falls to her knees in front of the other woman, wrapping her hands around Paige’s tightly wounded fists. 

“I get that you’re scared and I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry that I’ve made you feel like heartbreak is inevitable with me,” she presses a kiss against the blonde’s knuckles, “but Paige I- I can’t- live like this, I can’t live knowing that you could leave me -leave us- any second. I need you to trust me, I need you to believe in us and I need you to tell me you’ll stay. And if you can’t do that then-”

“Please don’t say it,” Paige breathes out, her shoulders radiating with tension. 

Azzi stands back up slowly, delicately placing her lips against the  older woman’s forehead. She feels Paige shudder under her touch as she tries to put every little bit of emotion, every little bit of please choose me, please choose us, please choose to stay, into that kiss. 

“Just- just think about it- sleep on it I guess. Take your time Paige but I- I need more than ‘I don’t know’ as an answer,” she says finally, the words lingering between them as she brushes away a couple of strands of the blonde’s hair before letting out a sigh as she puts some space between them, “I should go.”

Paige’s fingers immediately wrap around her wrist as the other woman blinks up at Azzi with pleading eyes, “don’t go-”

“Paige-”

“It’s late. Stephie’s asleep. Just- just stay.”

You stay, Azzi wants to scream because how can Paige ask her to do the one thing that the older woman herself is scared to do. But she’s exhausted and driving home -to a house that’s entrenched with the memories of the last few weeks but wouldn’t have Paige in it- sounds like something dreadful. And so she nods, shooting Paige another longing look before she heads towards the staircase. 

“Az,” she hears the other woman call out just as she’s about to climb onto the first step, making her stop and turn her head over her shoulder. 

“Yeah?”

“You know right? You know that- that I-” Paige gulps, “you know that I lo-”

“No,” Azzi says immediately, shaking her head rapidly, “say it to me when you can tell me you’ll stay.”

*** 

May 2027 

Azzi taps her foot incessantly against the hardwood floor as her gaze nervously flitters towards the front of the restaurant, where a man in a light blue polo shirt and dark jeans has just walked in, his own eyes scanning the premises in search of someone. She has the ridiculous urge to shrink in her seat, to hide away from his wandering eyesight as if he’s not the reason she’s here in the first place. Taking a deep breath and counting to ten Mississippis, Azzi finally raises her hand, trying to wave him over. 

“Tristan,” she calls out, attempting to arrange her features into a smile to match his when the man in question finally spots her. 

“Hey,” Tristan choruses, his eyes twinkling as he slips into the seat opposite Azzi, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kinda shocked you called. Not that I’m not happy- I mean, who wouldn’t be happy if a pretty girl called but I- I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Azzi tries to give him a humorous grin, “so you just gave me your number expecting nothing?”

She’s trying to make a joke but it comes out flat and she hopes he can’t read just how uncomfortable she is; won’t call her out for the uneasiness that she knows is radiating off of her. 

“Expecting? No. Hoping? Definitely,” Tristan smirks and Azzi’s reminded of the charm he’d exuded that night in the bar. 

The memory makes her want to throw up- well she supposes it’s probably not just the memory but also her little situation. She regards the man in front of her warily; he’s not bad to look at and at first glance he doesn’t exude any major red flags. And she’s almost ready to give her way-too-fucking-drunk past self a pat on the back because she'd made multiple dumb-as-fuck decisions that night -exhibit a: fucking a random stranger in a bar while mourning her ex- but at least she’d had the sense not to choose a complete psychopath. 

“Well I called,” she announces awkwardly. 

Tristan raises an eyebrow, “it’s been a whole month.”

Azzi bites her lip, “better late than never?”

The man in front of her snorts, “I suppose so but honestly I wasn’t expecting you to call at all. I mean- I figured you’d have gotten back together with your ex.”

That causes Azzi to suck in a sharp breath, her fingers digging crescent shaped scars into her palms. 

“I mean,” Tristan continues, oblivious to the way his words cut into the woman in front of him, “you just- you sounded like you really loved her and the way you talked about your relationship- it just- it sounded so perfect and I know I don’t know her and I know- I know you mentioned she was seeing someone else but you just- your relationship like- that shit sounded unbeatable and so I just- I guess I just assumed that if you wanted her back-  she’d want you back-”

“She’s engaged,” Azzi says loudly and it would be comical how quickly that shuts Tristan up if it wasn’t for the fact that saying those words out loud, feels like shooting an arrow into her own heart. She can still see the engagement announcement floating behind her eyes; can still so clearly see the pictures of Paige down on one knee for a woman who was beaming down at her, for someone who had said yes. 

“Oh,” Tristan’s saved from having to say anything more when the waiter appears with a menu. 

“What can I get you guys today?” the waitress asks cheerfully. 

“Just the salmon for me please,” Azzi says, still a little lost in her thoughts. 

“And for you sir?” the waitress turns to Tristan after jotting down Azzi’s order. 

“I will have the chicken with a waldorf salad on the side but with no nuts please; I’m allergic to most nuts,” Tristan responds politely as the waitress nods and starts to walk away but it’s the last part that perks Azzi’s ears up. 

“You’re allergic to nuts? Is that like- is that genetic?” she asks. 

Tristan seems a little taken back by her curiosity of his allergy but he nods his head yeah and Azzi pencils that little fact into her brain, figuring it would be an important tidbit to share with her doctor. 

“So your ex is engaged,” Tristan repeats, looking apologetic when his bluntness makes Azzi flinch but it’s replaced by a smirk as he lounges back in his seat, “so you called me for what? A rebound? I mean look Az, you’re a gorgeous girl but only being called for a rebound might just give a guy a complex.”

She knows he’s trying to be suave -charming even- but instead all it does is give her the ick and Azzi’s reminded of why she’d avoided men since her mistake of a boyfriend back in her senior year of high school. Hell, she’d only dated him because she and Paige had been trying their hands at another attempt of being just friends and the blonde was dating some pretty girl. But he’d been the first and last man she’d ever been with -which wasn’t surprising considering it had taken her and Paige only a year after to finally get together- until that night at the bar. 

Azzi barely remembers anything about that night beyond flashes of memories but she remembers the morning after clearly, remembers the regret that had coiled itself around her ribs. She’d practically run out of the hotel room, barely managing to keep the tears at bay in the back of the uber. She hadn’t even made it to her bedroom, breaking down in the middle of her living room floor as everything that had happened the night before -seeing Paige with someone else, being with someone else- hit her like an avalanche. Azzi doesn’t know how long she’d sat in a sobbing mess on the floor but at some point she must have fallen asleep, because her next memory is Colleen towering over her, a look of pure concern on her bestfriend’s face as she shook her awake. And then she was crying again, this time wrapped in the comfort of Colleen’s arm as she let the regret of all her mistakes -from the past and the present- flow down her cheeks. 

All she’d wanted after, was to just forget about the night -forget the image of Paige kissing a stranger, forget the image of herself walking up next to a stranger- and for a little while, the world had even granted her that wish. That was until a mandatory pre-season checkup had given her news that would make sure she’d never forget that night. 

“Azzi?” Tristan clicks his fingers in front of her face to get her attention, “you still with me?”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to come back to reality instead of staying lost in her mind. Taking a deep breath, she finally puts into words the truth that has become the epicenter of her world. 

“I’m pregnant.”

Tristan stares at her with a shell-shocked look on his face, his eyes unblinking and wide as his mouth slowly morphs into a ‘O’ shape, “you’re- you’re pregnant?”

“Yes,” Azzi nods, her tone shifting from nervous into something more businesslike, “and before you ask, yes it’s definitely yours. But you don’t have to feel pressured to be involved beyond whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m more than financially capable of taking care of a child by myself and I’m very lucky to have a great support system in my friends and family so I’m not depending on you for any-”

“You’re keeping it?” Tristan cuts her off, sounding almost disbelieving that, that was the choice she was making. 

Azzi stops at his words, tongue darting out to wet her lips. She’d gone back and forth with the decision from the minute she’d found out. Most of the factors in Azzi’s life pointed towards an abortion being the best thing for her. She was an athlete at the beginning of the peak of her career and she was only 25 years old, a young adult who’d just started this journey of life. For all her responsibleness, Azzi was still figuring out how to take care of herself. How could she possibly take care of a baby? 

She’d been just about to call Dr. Myers when instead her phone had opened to the instagram app; Paige’s engagement announcement the first thing on her feed. 

There’d been a thousand and one emotions that burst through Azzi but she’d fixated specifically one of them; loneliness. It was a ridiculous thing to feel for a girl whose family had moved across the country for her; whose best friend had become her manager and followed her to a brand new state. But Azzi felt it every time she was alone, sometimes even when she was surrounded by hundreds of people. She was so fucking lonely. 

And that’s when she’d decided she wanted this baby, a baby she could love and a baby who’d love her back, a baby who would fill this aching whole in her heart. A baby that would be hers. 

Azzi would never be lonely again. 

“Yes,” she answers Tristan’s question without a hint of hesitation, “I’m keeping the baby.”

“Wow- okay- this is- sorry,” Tristan shakes his head, his previous casual demeanour having changed to something far more rigid, “this is just- it’s a lot to process.”

“I understand,” Azzi says gently, “take your time.”

Tristant stares down at the table for what feels like an eternity and when he looks up, well, Azzi doesn’t really know the man in front of her at all- hasn’t even had the chance to ask him his last name, but she knows what the guilt in his eyes means. She remembers seeing it when she’d met her own biological father, only once, only for an hour and never again but a snapshot of it has been saved to her brain ever since. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, standing up from the table, “I can’t do this. I’m not ready to be a father. I can’t have a baby. Fuck me. I’m barely an adult. I can’t take care of a child. I’m sorry, I just- I can’t.”

“I understand,” Azzi replies clinically even though her stomach lurches a little at the rejection, at the realization that her child would grow up with the ever-present question of why didn’t he stay, just like she had. 

Azzi hadn’t called Tristan for lunch with the intent of getting anything out of it. The plan had simply been to do her due diligence by telling the father of her child that she was pregnant. After that, the decision would be in his hands and she’d made peace with the fact this -what had just happened- could be one of the outcomes. She hadn’t come here under the guise of reconnecting, finding a husband or any of that, not when, even thinking of any of that -despite the fact that Paige is engaged to someone else- feels a little bit like cheating. But Tristan's response still stings. 

Because he might not have been her first option to raise a child with-really she’d only ever wanted any of that with one person- but Azzi thinks if he’d wanted to try, she would’ve liked having a partner to watch her child grow up with

“I’m sorry. I’m really, really, really sorry,” Tristan repeats again as he starts to back away, “I wish you-” his eyes flicker down to her stomach, “I wish both of you the best.”

Azzi nods, “thank you,” and the words of gratitude are for a little more than just his best wishes. 

Tristan pauses for one second, hesitating as he looks at Azzi's belly one more time with an indecipherable emotion in his eyes, something a little like regret. But it’s not enough to make him stay and Azzi watches, with a hand on her stomach, as he turns walks out of the restaurant. Through the window, she watches him walking down the street, getting smaller and smaller until he rounds the curb, disappearing out of sight. And Azzi lets out a breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. 

“Oh,” her head snaps towards the waitress, who’s carrying two plates of food and looking awkwardly at Tristan’s abandoned seat, “your uh- your friend- where is he?”

“He’s gone,” Azzi says quietly. 

“Is he coming back?”

“No,” Azzi shakes her head, “no, I don’t think he is.”

*** 

May 2033 

The memory burns against the back of Azzi’s eyelids as she lies, wide awake, in Paige’s guest room with Stephie tightly snuggled against her chest. She’s not sure what exactly had triggered the memory because honestly, she doesn’t think about Stephie’s father -her sperm donor to be more accurate- that often. He’d existed for a mere second in the clock of her life, disappearing almost as fast as he’d appeared. But there’s a part of Azzi that will always be thankful to him, because he’s part of the reason she has this beautiful little girl who’s sleeping in her arms. 

A little girl who she loves and who loves her back, a little girl who’d filled the aching hole in her heart. A little girl, that was hers. 

And Azzi hasn’t been lonely ever since she’d been handed her little girl. 

Until tonight.��

Her eyes drift to the other side of the bed and she can’t help but focus on just how empty it looks, can help but be immersed in the feeling of something’s missing. It’s the first night in weeks that the other side of the bed isn’t filled and everything about it feels so fucking wrong. Azzi sighs, resting her cheek on Stephie’s head as she rubs her hand up and down the little girl’s shoulder. She can’t sleep and she knows -by the little telltale frown on her daughter’s face- that the little girl might be asleep, but it’s the kind that’s deeply troubled. 

She’s just about to close her eyes for another unsuccessful attempt at letting her exhaustion lull her into a slumber, when she hears the sound of footsteps right outside her door. Azzi rises up slowly, gently disentangling herself from Stephie as she squints through the little gap between the door and the floor. It doesn’t take a genius to know who it is and Azzi’s heart thumps anticipation as she watches the shadow of feet pacing back and forth. Suddenly they disappear and disappointment -even it’s ridiculous to feel it after the events of the night- courses through Azzi. Sighing to herself again, she lays back down, closing her eyes. 

A minute later they shoot open at the sound of the door being pushed and Azzi sits back up again, something like relief -something like i’m so glad you’re here, i'm so glad you came back please don’t ever go again- rushing into her veins. It takes a second for her eyes to adjust to the sight of the figure in the dark but once they do, Paige is practically illuminated by the moonlight streaking through the windows.  The blonde looks at her, not a speckle of shock at the fact that she’s awake because Paige knows her, knows her the way Azzi had known Paige was awake too, knows that they’d never been particularly good at falling asleep after an argument. 

“Can’t sleep,” Paige admits out loud in a whisper, nervously shuffling her feet by the doorway. 

“Me neither,” Azzi confesses, her hands brushing through Stephie’s hair. 

Their revelations -and the i can’t sleep because i can’t sleep without you hidden behind them- hang in the air, waiting for the two of them to say anything else as they stare at each other in the dark room. 

Paige speaks first, stumbling towards the bed, “can I just-”

“Yes,” Azzi breathes out before the question’s even finished, “please.”

Despite the urgency in their words, Paige is slow, climbing into bed, like she’s waiting for Azzi to take it back. The blonde slips underneath the covers, her hands immediately moving to rub Stephie’s back where they collide against Azzi’s fingers and that lightest bit of contact elicits a breathy gasp from both of them. There’s so much still left to say, so much still left to fix, so much they’re not sure can be fixed, but as Azzi slowly lies back down, her fingers interlocking with Paige’s over Stephie’s tiny body, she thinks that she might not survive, if these fleeting moments don’t lead to forever.

[court-jobi]

Phantom Spasms | Headcanons

Pro-Hero!MHA x Reader: Kirishima, Midoriya, Tamaki, Shinsou, Bakugou

Words: 3.8k

Prompt:

A telltale quiver wracks your body every now and then. Trembling: like a ghost which holds its wrenching fingers in wait to play piano on your nerves and muscles- attacking your body without warning or mercy. Once upon a time, those unsettling sensations would have been the sign of a flare-up or overextention… but now, phantom spasms merely unlock memories of pains seen and unseen. How will your hero best soothe your aches?

Warnings: desc. of injury/ body aches, language (because BK exists) HURT/COMFORT/FLUFF assorted

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

A/N: Still working through some fun asks, but here's some headcanons since it's been a minute~ show weeks are crazy for me (my theatre kids get it) Happy Halloween and Happy Booping, yall!

--Eijiro Kirishima

The first time you jumped out of your skin at work due to someone's hand landing on your back, Sero simply figured you spooked easily from behind. You made a joke right away to his teases. Then another time, you pinned whoever it was to the wall, when it happened to poor unsuspecting Mina at a party. You apologized and everyone laughed the overreaction off- sweet ‘Pinky’ included. 

But it wasn’t till it happened a third time at night -in your kitchen- with your own sweet-spirited Kirishima, that he finally became the one to learn what the reason behind your jerks stems from.

You were a little down in the face, getting some ice cream when he sleepily trudged out of bed for some water– and to find his sweetheart who’d left him cold and lonely. He found you up and tracing the bottom of your dish with your spoon, and made to come behind you with a hand to your waist– when you gasped. Flinching hard and snacking him with a grab– to root him to the spot and rear up to hit your attacker-

"OW- babe, it's just me!!" 

Your eyes widened and back stayed arched until you kind of stuttered and rubbed it with your free hand. Your gaze fell away to Kirishima’s arm- with stinging tears and guilt. You’d drop the scoop carelessly on the counter and regulate your breaths, all in hopes this could be perceived as another nervous-nelly reaction and not sign of what this actually is… something worse. 

"I-I’m sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, baby-" Kiri carefully raised a hand to brush your face into a sweet caress. Like magic, his touch soothes and your back finally eased up and let you sigh.

"No. I'm sorry. God, did I hurt you?" you straightened and rubbed at his arm yourself.

"Nah, it's fine, manly hit tho, babe!" He brushed it off until his laugh died seeing your eyes. "Hey. You ok? Is... something wrong with your back?" Kirishima smooths your hoodie’s folds back over your shoulders and down your arms to casually hold your waist."You were... rubbing it, just now."

"...happens more than I let on..." you sighed a little dejected. "Old injury, just - spasms- sometimes, when someone comes from behind me and I didnt notice." 

Kirishima’s gears worked together through the drowsiness,, "so... when Mina?"

"Yeah."

"And when Sero came in the-"

"Not as bad, but yeah," you nodded.

"Oh God, babyyyy," he lifted you and rubbed the outsides of your thighs when he sat you on the counter, shifting the ice cream remnants aside and caressing your low back. "Why didn't you say anything? I never would have teased you like that! Damn, I give you surprise hugs all the time..."

"It's not all the time!" you tried to assure him. "I usually hear you or know it's coming, and it's nice. It's really nice." 

A fond smile brings you to run a hand through his floppy hair. 

"I.... it actually feels better when I know it's you at my back. It feels... safe, y’know?"

He hummed and lifted his brows, raising his hands to your cheeks and giving you a sweet kiss. 

"Then consider me your personal koala, angel. I've got your back." The reassurance would touch you at its sweetness– till you see that he glanced down to your cleavage. "And your front, too."

"Oh hush, Kiri."

He laughed at the far more tame slap at his chest and tickled your sides to get you to join in. Once calmed down, you hugged Kirishima tight from your spot on the counter and so did he- now taking careful, soothing rubs on your back. 

"I love you so much, baby. Tell me anytime it hurts from now on, ok?"

-- Izuku Midoriya

It was in training at Grounds A when it began storming outside, so you figured you’d stay a little longer and not fight the bad weather on the roads. If nothing else, it gives you extra time to watch him practice his new and improved shoot style. With the new suit came a learning curve, so Izuku practically lived on campus nowadays, long after his classes were over. Before he could take to the streets, he’d need to learn how to work as a hero again, merging his physical disciplines with the new tech he now wears to protect himself. 

Happy to spend any break with him and support him on his hero track, you came anytime Izuku called and asked for you to take notes. He’d call out how high he guesses he can reach, and you’d yell the actual figure back as soon as he landed; as a game of sorts to see how far he could go. 

Izuku shouted one simultaneously with a thunder crack and while you did answer, it sounded faint. He looked back through sweaty bangs and he noticed you kind of spoke it downwards to the ground- and you were rubbing at your back with an awkward reach.

"You ok?" Izuku called– you looked up suddenly and smiled to mask the quivering sensation as it died down.

"Yeah, I'm good! Go again!"

A few more rounds passed and in between kicks, the thunder cracked again. Even Izuku cringed at the sight out the window, seeing how nasty it was getting. The passing worry over ‘Kacchan’ being out in this drek came through a mutter when he bounded back to your side with a solid thud on the ground, looking to you for perhaps some reassurance– 

– at least he was seeking you out, until he realized he was the one who needed to attend to you. Izuku’s eyes went wide and he rushed to your side with a higher-pitched call of your name.

Shoulders held uncomfortably straight, you were half slumped on the railing, trying to regulate your breaths. 

Izuku huffed over to your side in a second, the flash of electric teal ebbing through his suit's grooves catching your eyes as he worried in front of you. 

"I'm really fine," you rasped, "it happens’a lot– more annoying than anything." You chuckled as it eased up and allowed you to carefully kneel to a sit. Izuku crouches by you too, easing you down slowly.

"Honey, that's not normal! What's happened? Are you ok?? " 

He is quick to start mother-henning you, cupping your cheeks… and you had to smile.

"It’s just a phantom pain," you twisted and pointed at the back "Not even really ‘painful’ anymore, even- just.. strange. Like, have you ever had a bad dream that something's poking you in the back, but nothing’s really there?"

He sweated through that strange scenario, "Uhhhhh, no? I've never had that before..."

"Well, it’s a thing. The doctor checked me out," you brushed off all the same. "Just the thunder spooked me, and it acted up. Loud noises make me jump., and everything siezes."

Izuku is still hard to settle, so you give him the speed-read through what happened to you. A rookie mistake of pushing yourself beyond your limits when you were young resulted in a (potentially) life-long bout with strengthening your core, keeping good posture… years have been spent working around the scar tissue under the surface as best as you can manage.

"Scar tissue?"

"Yeah, right... here." 

You thumbed at the spot of your tremors, 

"Surgery took care of it. There's not even a bad incision- it just..--”

-a low rumble shook the sky-

“- teases, sometimes. Under the surface."

"Oh," Izuku mumbled, noting you seemed embarrassed, “So it’s like a missing limb? Amputees will say that, I hear. Aizawa has before, too, after what he did with his leg...”

Thinking back to a darker time, you’d felt the same of yourself… when you worried whether or not you’d walk again. It has been so scary, feeling that there should have been horrible pins and debris sticking out of you with how your nerves twisted and pinched all around the site of your wound. As much as you wish it wouldn't, sometimes it feels like yesterday that you were laid up in the hospital for endless scans and tests for weeks on end.

Simply put, you agree so as to not worry him more: “In a way, yes.”

"-But it’s not hurting you?"

"Not... ‘hurt’ exactly, just feels kinda queasy."

Izuku’s powers of observation can read as overwhelming, though right now, you think it’s sweet how he’s taking in every inch of you to memory. He's running through a thousand and one solutions- you know the signs.

He got an idea. 

"Hey, well, let me rinse off and we can stay in and watch a show until this storm lets up! That way, you won’t be alone! And I'll sit at your back... I can rub it, if it helps?" His ears got a little pink as he rambled through, but you smiled up at his eyes sweetly. 

"That'd be nice~"

-- Tamaki Amajiki

Tamaki laid curled up in his favorite spot on your chest: his long-sleeved hand rests tucked into himself while he nuzzles into your neck. It’s his favorite spot since he could hear you and feel all of you so well, but you didn't have to see his face.

He admittedly had fallen asleep there, even though a storm had started. Poor baby can sleep through almost anything as long as you're still enough (as his pillow).

But today? When your jump underneath him roused him, he suddenly went self conscious,

"mmmmmAHHH, s-sorry, I didnt- I... hey, what are..."

A moment’s delay, Tamaki noticed your pained expression as you let out shallow breaths. 

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you??"

"No, honey, no, you’re... ahh... yer’fine...." you tried to press your tummy back down and nuzzle back into bed. You were clearly preoccupied and not able to fully focus on resolving his quivering self as quickly as you normally would. 

"Y-you’re shaking..." Bridging up on an elbow off of you, Tamaki sounded concerned and a little more commanding. He could be very protective once he knew there wasn't a risk of embarrassing himself, "Tell me what hurts, love."

He laid on his side and regarded every twitch of your face as you glanced his way. For all his shrinking into himself and generally submissive nature, no one stands in your corner like Tamaki Amajiki. Now with your roles of confidence reversed, you felt ashamed not telling him sooner.

"It's just... my low back." You turned to face him, thumbing it, and he instantly touched the spot, your skin jumping at contact but settling as he palmed it. "It acts up sometimes... old injury and all."

"Do I need to take you to the nurse?"

"Oh no," you brushed off, "there's nothing she'd do anyway- it's supposed to go away on its own." Then another thunderclap brought it on again, and he tightened onto you again.

His little face dropped, feeling horrible that you were suffering all this time. After your initial recovery, physical therapies, even taking you to and from your yoga classes, Tamaki had foolishly assumed you’d made a full recovery without an ounce of lingering trouble.

 "I can't believe I didn't see this before. God, I'm a terrible boyfriend…" he mumbled into your shoulder, holding on for comfort as he tucked you under his arm so your back laid mostly on the bed again and he shielded you from on top. You cooed at his self deprivation and just petted through his hair.

"Tama-honey,” you tapped his chin to look up at you, "you're the best boyfriend I could- ever- wish for.”

And it's not a lie- never a lie when it comes to him. Had he only been in your life during your recovery from that pesky broken leg back in your teens, you're sure you would have bounced back ten times faster.

You're here now," you sunk adorably under him to make him feel bigger, "why would I ever feel anything but completely safe with you?"

His little lip quivered into a smile and he leaned to kiss your nose and cheek to which you sighed at both touches happily. "What should I do? To help, I mean?"

You keen a little at this caring attention. You rarely told him to do anything due to his fawning -and already skittishy- nature that simply wanted to be held and adored when in your company… but with how gentle he's being, this opening makes you answer him honestly. What's so wrong about giving him a reason to please you?

"Back rubs are nice~”

When you turn over gingerly and he starts to pet along your back, you wiggle your hips a touch.

“You can go under, hon. I won’t break, promi-”

“U-UNNDER?!” 

You giggle into the pillow. Simple back scratches will have to do for your shy darling.

-- Hitoshi Shinsou

You haven't noticed much pain since you were in the hospital, post-accident. The meds they gave you were gold, and just about knocked you out within fifteen minutes of a dose. Truly all you’d wanted was to go home and ride out your recovery, but everyone on staff urged you to take the PT seriously, as it would help you in the long run. Your chief cheerleader -and drill sergeant- was none other than your partner in both heroics and love, Shinsou.

Once settled in your second story apartment, you really hedged against leaving to brave the stairs unless absolutely necessary. But even when you needed to for an appointment, Hitoshi was there, taking you by the hand to support you step by step. There to help you shower, there to help you dress until you could proudly manage on your own. But even then, you claimed you relied on his witty banter more than anything else… He’s strong in every sense of the word, and stoic where you need him to be, even now off duty. You missed heading out to fight crime with him, but ‘all in good time, sweetness’ was his anthem during your six week long ‘house arrest’.

Being home was such a happy change of pace from the white hallways of the triage floor; you were actually eager to tackle the monotony of chores again. Shinsou had encouraged you to rest, but didn’t fuss or demand it when you went piddling around the apartment. It wasn’t until you were putting dishes away that you had your first, huge flare-up.

You couldn’t even call it pain- just the most intense muscle spasm and queasiness you've ever felt that shook you from your low back up your spine. The sensation honestly scared you. The mug in question immediately retreated to the counter and you stumbled beside the fridge -balancing on the counter- your breaths fast and short as the tremors vibrated in you, 

"Hi–Hitoshi?!" You called weakly, trying not to panic.

He was there in a matter of seconds; he’d already heard the crash and was on his way to investigate. You heard him curse lightly before coming up beside and behind you, lowering your arms from their mismatched hold on whatever cabinet handles you could grab and placed both palms on the counter, 

"Let go," he prompted, and you obeyed without any coercion. When you held onto the flat surface, he took your waist in his hands to steady you. "Don't tense- breathe through it, deep breaths."

"What's happening…?" you can’t turn to look, even though you wanted to.

"It's in your back, right here?" Shinsou laid a warm palm on the queasy area, and you whimpered an affirmation. "You're ok, sweetheart. It’ll pass- it's just a spasm. It'll pass... just breathe."

You forced yourself an inhale that’s not as slow as you know he’d prefer, but Shinsou doesn’t correct you. Here he stands, rubbing your back with two expert fingers and his thumb over the bundle of nerves where your initial surgery had been. It seemed to help because breathing got easier. 

"That's it,” He whispered close to your ear, closing his eyes to pray. "You're doing good." He kissed a few spots on your shoulder as you relaxed as the minute wore on, him rubbing your back and you sinking away from the counter as your back bowed back from its arch.

"Oh my God...." you breathed.

"Better?"

You nodded. He looked up and saw the open pantry and let out a little breath. He kept a hand on your waist and put the mug up himself.

"You know things like this are why I'm here. Don't push yourself."

You soured at that, "I should be able to reach things in my own kitchen..."

"You will- just not right now." Shinsou said firmly, but in a tone that softened at the end whenever he was with you. You turned your back to the counter,

"Thanks," you breathed out, rubbing up his arm. "That was... really wierd. And kinda scary."

"The same happens in my neck from time to time. Not so much anymore. It will fade after a couple months." 

You exasperated at the sound of that time frame. Shinsou had suffered a bout of whiplash after a villain sting earlier that year, and you remembered his more subtle shudders and shivers indicating his nerves were getting back to standard operating procedure. That neurological progress took nearly half the year, just as he said.

But Shinsou knows your brand of impatience all too well. He lifted your chin to his gaze, more concern than scolding, 

"-which is why you need to take your recovery seriously. I know you wanna bounce back fast; I can help you get there. You know what to do. We want to avoid these as much as we can."

You nodded, but your chest still sunk. You know more practically that you couldn’t bother him every time it happened, yet you now fear what would happen now if he hadn't been here. He’s only off night duty for another week, so after this weekend, you’ll be managing life solo, more or less… 

But despite any lingering discomfort showing on your face, Shinsou would do anything to see it go away. He pressed a kiss to the soft edge of your eyeline and leaned his forehead to yours, rubbing your back comfortably in his hold- making your hands naturally hold back on his arms to make him stay. He brought you gaze back up, 

"Hey sunshine..." 

You opened your eyes to see his small smile. Makes him look all the more sleepy, but it’s such a soft sight, you’re happy to see it all the same.

"Do you trust me?"

You smiled back a little brighter. "I do."

"Then you should let me help you when you need it. I'm counting on you to tell me when that is. Promise?"

"I promise." You closed your eyes, just soaking in his presence. "I just want to be normal, babe."

He nuzzled noses with you, "Normal is subjective. You're healing, and that's nothing to be ashamed of."

You had to smile at his logical reasoning– takes after his mentor. So you nodded and asked if you could turn in and start up a bath, even if it was a little early in the day.

He massaged the soft skin by your ear and responded, "of course, love. Whatever you want."

--Katsuki Bakugo

You had rare help in the kitchen most days at this hour, since Bakugou was still on some personal leave from his agency (a forced break from his pr specialist who's placed him in time-out from the public eye). Given the availability he now has should be regarded as a gift, he was there to readily help you and no doubt distract you with kisses while you worked. His teasing has carried on throughout the afternoon as he cleaned up behind you, and was working on washing up the last few dishes when you were getting out a stockpot for dinner.

Crouching a little too fast to reach it on the low shelf, the shooting queasiness had your back bowing, and breath expelling out of your lungs in a gasp not unlike ‘fear’. You flopped almost immediately to your butt and pivoted with your back to the cabinet as you let out an uncontrollable moan.

At the sound of a hushed 'ughhh not again' in your first language, Bakugo peeked from the other end of the island and couldn’t find you at first… so he leaned off to the side and found your crunched body on the floor.

With a loud curse, he dropped everything and rushed to your side, 

"What the hell happened??" Bakugou’s hands went everywhere, from your hands to your shoulder, scanning your legs and your tense face for signs of a cut or a bruise you could have made this quickly.

"Babe, I'm fine, this is normal f’me."

"THE FUCK YOU’RE FINE– you're on the DAMN FLOOR!" He went to pull you up bridal style but you stopped him suddenly,

"No, no don't!! It's just gotta pass first…"

His eyes went wide and felt panic creep down his back. Bakugou flopped criss-crossed on the floor, and ran a hand through his hair- all that’s left was to watch you helplessly, which was the last thing he wanted to do in this moment. Surely he could do something. The waiting made him angrier than ever for a split second, until he reigned in some breaths himself. Eventually, the blond just reached a hand out to rub your knee. What else was he supposed to do?

You sensed your boyfriend’s now silent concern, and sent a little weak smile his way as it started ebbing away, 

"It's already better. My back just seized up sometimes, it's just an old injury that acts up every now and again. I usually don't do ‘squatty’ movements like that- things that tax it,” -you wink a little playfully- “Rookie mistake~”

Bakugou nodded, yet just stared at your core as it leveled back to normal.

"Sorry about that. Getting older sure doesn’t help these things~" You breathed out as you sat up normally-- only to have Bakugou launch at you fast and grip you to him–

You yelped at his sudden reach but brought a hand to his back– strange, that you think you might need to soothe him instead with how hard he’s breathing– 

"Katsuki?"

"Don't scare me like that again, dummy," he croaked out, nuzzling his face into the warmth of your neck and cradling your head to him in the dearest way.

Really, you should know better by this point. He can be battered and bruised beyond recognition and won’t pay a bit of attention to himself… but when you get so much as a paper cut or a wasp’s sting, and he will nearly go ballistic to tend to you.

[seenoversundown]

Amongst The Stars: Chapter Ten

Josh x Quinn (Nonbinary OC) Warnings: The Kiss, Tears, Alcohol Consumption, Purple Nurples, These guys pulling their heads out of their asses (kind of), Josh is kind of hot???, Relationship discussions Word Count: 4.5k Summary: Josh has always loved love,  and he's finally found it. Buuuut, he can't exactly tell anyone. Join him as he navigates the ins and outs of his sweet, secret romance. Author's Note: *Kicks a door down* WE'RE BACK BABY! Sorry for falling off the face of the earth with Josh. This chapter is soooooo important to the overall story, and I needed to do some rewrites to make it perfect. Also, as a consolation for the wait… we have Willa and Sam in this chapter. Enjoy 😘. 

“Maybe I want your love forever. Is that so bad to say? Maybe we’re meant to be together if God had his way. And if you ask why I’ve stayed, and I’ll stay for all I know, It’s ‘cause the stars said so." “The Stars” - Chelsea Cutler

I can’t believe I shoved him. For the last 72 hours, that moment has played in my head on a constant loop, and each replay is worse than the previous. It’s like an out-of-body experience. Whenever I replay the memory, I see Josh’s look of hopeful shock when he pulled back from the kiss as if he couldn’t believe he’d drummed up the courage to do it. I see my hand press into the center of his chest, and then my arm extends, shoving him back from the hug I had originally wrapped him in. The hug where I turned it into a kiss. I see the sheer rage on my face as I ask him, “Is this the reason you wanted to help me? You found out I was single, and you wanted to make a move?”

I see Josh floundering, trying to explain himself as I tell him to leave my house. 

Every time I think about it, my heart breaks a little bit more. The worst part is Josh is still respecting my wishes. I told him not to contact me, and he hasn’t. But I only want to see his name pop up in my notifications. I’ve had a lot of time to think over the last several days, and I’ve concluded that my reaction was borne from confusion. My feelings for Josh are scary. They’re big, and they don’t make sense, but I’ve been deluding myself by denying them. Craig, the world’s most unobservant man, could see them, but I couldn't. I wasn’t able to see it until it was too late, and I’d already ruined my chance before I even knew that I wanted it.  

I’m startled by a knock at my door. 

“Quincyyyyyyy,” Willa whispers from behind the door, “Can I come in?” 

I pull one of my pillows over my face to hide that I’m on the verge of tears before I shout back, “Yeah, it’s unlocked.”

“You’ve been in here for days, babes,” Willa grabs the pillow and tries to pull it away from me, but I hug it tighter. “Tell me what’s wrong.” 

“‘M just a little sad. S’no big deal.”

“I can see that,” She tugs on my arm, trying to get me to sit up, “and it seems like it might be a big deal.”

I finally sit up and look her in the eyes. She gives me a sympathetic smile when she clocks my red-ringed eyes.

“I promise it’s fine,” I shrug, adjusting the pillows behind me as I lean against the headboard. 

“You are three seconds away from crying. It’s not fine,” Willa quickly sits down in the space I just vacated by sitting up, “But you’re allowed to be not fine. You just need to talk to someone, preferably me, about it.”

My lower lip starts to wobble, a telltale sign that tears are coming, and Willa wraps me up in her arms. 

“Wilson, I think I messed up big,” My voice is pathetically tight. 

“Did something happen when you went to get your stuff from Greg?” She’s rubbing gentle circles along my back. 

“Something like that,” I trail off, offering no additional context. 

“I knew I should have taken off,” she starts, “I’ll kill him if I ever see him again. Did Josh at least stand up for you?” 

At the mention of Josh, my tears start falling freely. I nuzzle a little closer against Willa.

“Wait - did Josh do something?” 

I shake my head because how am I supposed to tell my best friend that I am insane and deeply infatuated with a man I’ve known for weeks? How can I tell her I ruined everything because I couldn’t dissect my feelings well enough to understand them? 

“How many men will I have to kill?” Willa whispers more to herself than me, and it causes me to snort out a snotty laugh. 

“Please, no murder charges, Willy. I can’t bail you out on a student teacher’s salary.”

“Oooh, There they are! Cracking jokes and everything,” She chuckles, “If photography doesn’t pan out, I may go into therapy.” 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, there.”

“Hey, seriously. I can tell you’re not ready to talk about whatever happened. But please know that I’m here whenever you are,” She pulls me in for one more bear hug, “And for the love of god, please take a shower, you greasy little gremlin.”

I roll my eyes but can’t stop another laugh from escaping me as I get out of bed and walk over to my dresser, pulling out a fresh pair of joggers and a faded band tee. 

“I’m showering because I want to, not because you told me to, by the way,” I shake my fistful of clothes in Willa’s direction. 

“Mhm, I’m sure!” 

I feel much more like myself after my shower, though I’d never tell Willa that. She’s already left the apartment by the time I’m out of the bathroom, so I begin plotting. I’ve learned a lot about Josh over the time we’ve been talking. He likes chocolate, cheese, and wine. So, I dig through mine and Willa’s pantry, searching for the makings for a picnic. There are a few things that I need to go to the store for, namely wine, cheese, and salami.  So, as I’m walking to the store, I pull out my phone and click into my messages from Josh. 

Me: Hey, can we talk?

His response is immediate as if he’s been waiting to hear from me

Starlight✨: Please Me: Today? Starlight✨: Can we meet in person if you’re comfortable?

My heart melts; he is still putting my comfort above all else.

Me: Sure, where? Starlight✨: The bar? I can send you a pin Me: That works! 

Josh sends me a pin of his location, and I immediately put it in my Maps app. It’s about a 15-minute walk from my apartment, so I let him know that he can expect me within an hour and a half. 

I grab everything needed for my impromptu charcuterie board and quickly head back to my apartment to piece it together. I try to stay pretty grounded while cutting the salami and cheese into thin slices and adding them to Tupperware containers. Just because Josh responded doesn't mean he’s forgiven you. It doesn’t mean you have a chance. This becomes my mantra as I’m finishing up. I’m not trying to make myself feel bad; I’m simply trying to remain realistic. And the truth of the matter is, it would be completely understandable if Josh never forgave me. But it is a good sign that he texted back so quickly. 

I finish slicing and add the containers of meats and cheeses, a pack of crackers, some chocolates, and the bottle of wine to a cooler I’d found sitting on the pantry floor. I sling the cooler over my shoulder and pull my phone out to text Josh, letting him know I’m on my way, and I head out into the world. 

My body is full of nervous energy as I walk over to Caravel Tavern. I consider that I may meet his brother today, which makes me sweat. I’m barely even in his life; I don’t need to meet his family yet. That’s ridiculous. But, thinking of his brother and the bar does help to take my mind off of the fact that the outcome of today’s adventure could make my life better or it could break my heart. So, with that knowledge in mind, I turn down the cobblestone street the bar sits on and wipe my sweaty hands on my pants as I stare at it. I hype myself up again. You can do this, Quinn. He’s just a boy, and I finish my trek up to the front door. 

I don’t see any signs of life; the “Open” light is shut off from the night before, no cars in the front parking lot, no music playing behind the door. The uneasy feeling grows in my chest. Why would Josh tell me to meet him at an empty bar? Surely, he isn’t playing a prank on me… though I wouldn’t blame him if he were. Setting those feelings aside, I decided to try the door, and to my surprise, it opened, and a bell jingled to signal my arrival. 

I step over the threshold and take in my surroundings. The walls are covered in various pieces of art, a refurbished piano sits in one corner, and a vintage jukebox sits against the wall next to a hallway that I assume leads to bathrooms. I lock eyes on a cardboard cut out of Young Bob Seger that seems entirely out of place, and I laugh. This place just screams Josh, I think to myself, remembering the organized chaos of his bedroom that I caught glimpses of over FaceTime. But, after looking around, I can see there are hints of others in here as well—a painting of The Queen Anne’s Revenge hanging on the wall and other pirate-themed items. Vintage jazz posters are thrown in every now and again, and framed ticket stubs from various events that happened over the years. 

God, this place is so cute.

My snooping is interrupted by footsteps coming down the hallway beside the jukebox. 

My heart clenches as I meet Josh’s eyes for the first time since The Incident. 

He raises one arm in a half-hearted wave and flashes me a sheepish grin.

“Well, fancy seeing you here.”

“Sorry to intrude,” I giggle, “but some dude asked me to meet him here?”

Josh cracks a full-fledged grin, and butterflies erupt in my belly.

Maybe this won’t be so bad. 

“Speaking of, do you care if we take this somewhere a little quieter? My brother will be here,” he glances up at the ornate clock behind the bar, “literally any second. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but he’s been on an absolute warpath for days. Something about some ‘crazy,’ his words, woman he met.” 

“No, I fully understand. My roommate is dealing with something similar, and she’s been an absolute terror about it.”

“Wonder if the situations are related,” Josh jokes before leading me to a stairwell at the back of the bar. 

I hear the bell on the door chime, and Josh lets out a dramatic sigh, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Hang out here while I deal with my brother?” 

I nod, then watch as he walks back the way he came. 

I pull out my phone and mindlessly scroll through apps while I listen to the vague chatter of Josh’s brother. 

I'm so curious. I just have to see how the nice guy I talked to on FaceTime could switch to warpath mode.

“SHE - SHE FREAKIN POKED ME AGAIN, MAN.”

Is he really that pressed about being poked? And I have to suppress a chuckle at the thought of some woman jabbing her fingers at this guy to teach him a lesson.

“And I’m sure you deserved it,” Josh responds thoughtfully. 

“DESERVED IT?! SHE’S INSANE!”

Oh yeah, buddy, you absolutely deserved it, I think, as Josh’s brother continues. 

“I’M STARTING TO BRUISE! LOOK AT THIS!”

“Hey, pull your shirt down,” Josh sighs, “Have some decorum, we’re in public.”

“That’s not very progressive of you, Josh. FREE THE NIPPLE!”

“I’ll free your nipple.”

A high-pitched squeal follows that statement. 

“Now, if you don’t mind, can you stop your incessant whining long enough to watch the bar until Jake gets back?” 

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope,” Josh pops his P for emphasis. 

I see Josh round the corner with a soft smile on his face. 

“Sorry about that,” he starts, “Want to head up to the roof? We should have some privacy there for at least a little bit.”

I gesture for him to lead the way and can’t stop myself from asking, 

“I’ll free your nipple. How exactly does one do that?”

“It’s quite simple,” he says as he boots open the rooftop door, “Pinch and twist.”

We step out onto the roof, and I’m in awe at how beautiful it is up here. There’s a small sitting area with a loveseat that overlooks the street below. There are multiple strings of lights hung above our heads. Various potted plants are artfully scattered across the area. There’s even a small bistro table in one corner. 

As I’m taking in the area, Josh leads me to the loveseat and gestures for me to hand him my cooler, setting it on the ground beside him, before asking me to sit. 

“Quinn,” he runs one hand through his hair, “I have to be honest. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from you again. And the thought of that damn near broke my heart. I’m not asking for anything from you. I want-“

“Josh…” I try to cut him off, but he barrels on through

“I just want you to listen to me. I’m so sorry for acting out of line. You see, the thing with me is-“ 

“Josh.” I try again, more forcefully. 

“The thing is, when I’m in something, I am all in. And I know it’s weird, and it’s fast, but I am all in where you’re concerned. You can tell me never to talk to you again, and I’ll listen. But I had to tell you. This,” he gestures between us, “is real for me. And I-“ 

I get up from the couch and stand directly in front of him. 

“Josh, please stop talking,” I finally get out, as I grab the front of his plain white t-shirt and pull him closer. 

He slowly nods, his eyes flicking back and forth between the grip I have on his shirt and my lips. 

“I came here to do this,” I whisper before I close the distance between us and press my lips against his. 

It only lasts for a moment before I pull back. Josh makes a sound of protest before trying to pull me back in. 

I have to focus. I can’t get lost in this yet. 

“I have to say my piece, Josh,” I say pointedly, “this is real for me too. It’s been real for longer than I wanted to admit. My ex saw it, and it’s part of what led to our break up. He was able to piece it together before I was.” 

Josh sucks in a deep breath, staring deep into my eyes, searching for any hint of dishonesty. 

Content in whatever he found, he lets his breath go and nods for me to continue. 

“I reacted… poorly,” I wince, “when you kissed me because you scared me. This scares me. It’s absolutely terrifying that I feel things for you that I never felt for my ex—“ I pause to collect my thoughts, “I moved here with Craig, you know. I thought I cared enough about him to move across the United States with him… but what I felt for him isn’t even a drop in the bucket of the feelings you awoke in me. You have ingrained yourself within my soul in a matter of weeks. And that is terrifying.” 

He opens his mouth to respond, but I wave him off and continue my spiel. 

“This sounds fucking crazy, but after that first night we FaceTimed, I changed your name in my phone to Starlight. Because talking to you, getting to know you, made me realize I’d been living in a cloud-covered night. You dispelled those clouds and let a little starlight back into my life. And, I guess this is all to say that I hope you can forgive me. Because the last three days have been miserable, and I don’t want to lose you again.” 

Instead of responding, Josh pulls me into a crushing hug and holds me for what feels like an eternity, nuzzling his face against my neck. He eventually pulls back, gently cupping my face in both hands. I lean further into his grasp, closing my eyes and humming a contented sigh as he uses his thumbs to caress my skin for a moment before he begins peppering my face with tiny kisses, starting with my cheeks before moving to my nose, forehead, and even my eyelids. 

“I’ve come to care for you a great deal,” he presses a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth, “and I’m glad you feel the same.” 

He finally reconnects our lips, and my heart melts.

I wrap my arms around his neck and weave my fingers through the fluffy hair at the nape of his neck. I give his hair a tentative tug, and he rewards me with a soft gasp.

I’ll file that little bit of information away for future use… 

I use his gasp as an excuse to deepen the kiss, gently running my tongue along his lower lip, waiting for him to grant me access. And he does. Our tongues tangle together, and I get lost in the feel of Josh’s hands sliding down my sides and coming to rest at my hips. He grips my hips and forcefully pulls our centers closer, grinding his hardness into me, and I let out a little groan. 

I crack one eye open, searching for the loveseat behind us, and slowly begin walking Josh backward until his knees hit the soft fabric, and he sits down, bringing me down on top of him. As I readjust to straddle his lap, his hands find their way back to my hips. 

He gives one of my hips a little pinch, and I pull back, breathing heavily.

“Quinn,” he chuckles, “We have to stop.”

I let my lower lip come out in a pout, and he leans up and nips at it before continuing. 

“I would love nothing more than to keep going,” he shifts his hips to grind his hard length against me once more as if to emphasize just how much he does not want to stop, “But I think that with how fast our feelings are moving, we should take this side of our relationship little bit slower.”

I consider his words for a moment and know he’s, without a doubt, correct.

I grab the sides of his face and gently kiss the tip of his nose, “No, you’re absolutely right.” 

I attempt to dislodge myself from his lap, but he holds me still for one more moment. 

I look down at him, cocking one eyebrow in question, and watch as a wicked grin overtakes his face. 

“Plus, you know,” he presses his lips against my ear and whispers, “The first time I have you, it’ll be all to myself. No one else will be around to hear the little sounds I’m going to coax from your sweet mouth.”

“You can’t say things like that to me,” I nuzzle into his neck and sigh. 

He simply hums in response and lifts me off of his lap. 

Still catching my breath, I watch as he rubs his hands together and then gently pats his thighs. 

“I don’t know about you, my dear, but I’ve worked up a bit of an appetite,” he flashes me a cheeky smile. 

His ability to flip in and out of various personas will always amaze me. 

“I did bring a little picnic,” I tuck a stray bit of hair behind my ear, then glance down at my fingernails, “I was hopeful that this would go well and we’d get to share it.” 

He stands and not so subtly adjusts his pants before grabbing the cooler I brought and shooting a questioning glance my way. I nod and follow him to the little bistro table in the corner of the roof.  “You do know the way to a man’s heart,” Josh lets out a long sigh, patting his belly. 

“I think anyone can be won with a little bit of cheese and a good wine, regardless of gender,” I say through a fit of giggles, feeling a little loose from the now-empty bottle we’ve shared.

“Too true, Bug,” he snaps as if he’s figured out the answer to a riddle that only he was in on, “what a universally human experience.” 

“Bug?” I ask, stuck on the pet name. 

“Oh yes, that’s what I’ve been calling you in my head.”

I gesture for him to continue. 

“See, it started because I thought about how you’ve already wormed your way into my heart and mind. But I didn’t really assume a prospective partner would enjoy being called a worm. So… Bug.” 

“That is weirdly sweet,” I let out a small laugh as I leaned over the table to give him a quick peck. 

When I pull back, I see Josh intently staring over my shoulder, brow furrowed in concentration. 

I whip my head around to see a door I’d been too distracted to notice; the curtain covering the glass gently swayed like someone had just been peering out of it. 

“What’s that door go to?”

“That’s my apartment,” he says, brow furrowing deeper, “I’m curious who was just at the window. Because my brother should be working.” 

He shrugs it off and stands from the table, extending one hand to me. 

“Would you care to dance?” 

“There’s no music,” I respond questioningly. 

“Don’t need any. We’ll make our own.” 

I roll my eyes, he’s so cheesy, but accept his hand and allow him to lead me in a vague approximation of a waltz. 

As he twirls me around the rooftop, giggling every time he missteps, I think that I could get used to this. He’s so full of love and light, and he has such infectious positivity that it’s hard for me to believe I’ve gone nearly my whole life without being drawn into his orbit. 

I let out a laugh as he dips me, almost dropping me, and I think about how it just makes sense that we’ve found each other. And how it finally feels like all the pieces I never knew were missing are finally clicking into place. 

You know you can’t be with him publicly yet, a voice in the back of my mind says. I hate that I know the voice is right. I want to show him off. I want to bring him to Willa — to subject him to her judgment because I know he would pass every test with flying colors, and I know that Willa would love him the second he opened his mouth to introduce himself. But I can’t do that yet. 

“Josh,” I cut him off mid-dip. 

“Mmm, one second, I’m concentrating very hard on not dropping you,” he grins down at me before pulling me back up into his arms, “okay, proceed.” 

“We need to talk about what we are, what our expectations are,” I stare deep into his eyes, willing him to understand that this isn’t a bad thing, just a necessary evil. 

His smile drops for one single second before he understands. 

“Of course, Quinn. Communication is essential.”

And I’m so glad he feels that way. I’m not used to that type of thing in relationships. 

“But, before that,” he ponders, looking toward the setting sun, “would you like a blanket? It might get chilly if we’re out here much longer.” 

I nod and return to the loveseat, waiting for him to return. I run through the conversation in my head, thinking of how to word my request. I want Josh to know that being secretive is purely necessary. I can’t leave him feeling like this is what I want because it isn’t. I don't want to hide him away; he deserves to be in the sun. 

I’m pulled out of my thoughts by him plopping down next to me, a giant quilt under one arm and a new bottle of wine under the other. He unfurls the quilt and gently tucks both of us under it before pouring us each a fresh glass of wine.  He hands me the glass, sets the bottle on the ground beside us, and turns to face me, “Okay, whatcha got?” 

I suck in a deep breath and decide just to spit it out. 

“I want to be with you,” I start, seeing a smile light up Josh’s features, “But I think we need to keep this a little bit quiet for the time being.”

He casts his eyes toward his glass and thinks briefly before responding. 

“I can see why that may be necessary,” he says as he leans forward and grabs one of my hands, entwining our fingers, “The timing of this could be perceived as suspicious.” 

I use my thumb to trace light patterns against his palm, losing myself in the feel of his soft skin as I think of how to word my following statement. 

“Mmm, just a little suspicious. I don’t want to hide you because we know the timeline of our relationship. But others won’t necessarily be so quick to trust us.”

“You do have a point, Bug,” he replies quietly, turning his eyes to his wine. 

“So, would you be okay with being discreet for just a little while? Just long enough that I can introduce you to people without accusations hanging over our heads.” 

“I think,” He cuts his eyes back to mine, and I see a twinkle of mischief dancing in them, “sneaking around could be fun. I’d quite like to keep you just to myself for a while.” 

I sighed in relief as Josh leaned forward for a quick peck. 

“Thanks, partner,” I tip my imaginary cowboy hat, and Josh bursts out laughing, his tongue slightly poking out through his teeth. 

“Though, I must warn you,” he pulls a little note out of his pocket and hands it to me, “I do believe we were being spied on earlier.”

I open it up and see 

“Bit more wine?  (Love you, Bub)”

Scrawled in messy handwriting, I immediately knew that Josh’s brother must have taken a break and been at the door before our dance. 

“Don’t worry, Bug. I trust him with my life. Our secret will be safe.”

And for some reason, I know that Josh is right. 

ATS Masterpost | The Caravel Tavern Series | Masterlist

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[vermil1ion-sky]

Reader getting injured in a fight and trying to act tough.

Characters: Scaramouche.

Just a little something to start posting aghdhgfhjd

-

"You're an idiot." You turn to glare at Scaramouche, who stands in the doorway of the bathroom. "Careless."

"Alright I get it okay?" With a sigh, you turn back to the mirror, cleaning the fresh cuts on your face. "Would it kill you to be nice just once?"

"This is me being nice." Scaramouche frowns. "I could say worse things right now, and it'd all be justified"

You roll your eyes, still carefully cleaning your injuries. "It's not my fault I got ambushed, the forest has good places to hide..."

"Or maybe you're just not observant enough of your surroundings."

You wave a hand dismissively at him and out of the corner of your eye, you can tell he's really annoyed. Yeah, you got a couple of scratches out of a fight, you think that’s a normal thing to happen

"Whatever. I could've dealt with them fine without you jumping in."

Scaramouche scoffs, crossing his arms while looking amused. "Oh yeah? Because from where I stood, you'd be fertilizer in the Avidya forest had I not 'jumped in' then." He takes a step forward making sure he's in your line of sight and smirks mockingly. "Would it kill you to admit you needed my help?"

You push him away slightly, turning to look at him with an annoyed look. "If you're not going to help then I suggest you get out and do something else other than mocking me."

He doesn't move, just stares as you try to mentally block him out. You wipe the largest cut on your cheek a little too harsh and it makes you flinch. "Damn it..."

Scaramouche sighs and opens his hand towards you, like he’s waiting for you to give him something. You look at him quizzically. "...What?"

He definitely looks more annoyed than before, grabbing the cloth you were using to clean your cuts. You’re about to protest, and he grabs your chin, making you turn towards him. “H-Hey! What-”

“Be quiet.” Scaramouche keeps your head steady and, to your surprise, he picks up on cleaning your wounds. He sees you looking at him confused and he simply raises an eyebrow. “...You said I should leave if I wasn’t going to help... so...”

‘I don’t want to leave you’ 

Is what you interpret from his words, or lack thereof, and you feel a fluttering in your heart, praying to any archon listening that he didn’t notice the way your heartbeat accelerated and how the tip of your ears feel warmer.

You stay still, his grip on your face surprisingly... soft, for someone as brash as him. He’s entirely focused on making sure your cuts won’t get infected, he passes a particularly sore spot, making you flinch but his hand keeps you in place.

His thumb softly caresses your cheek, maybe a reflex or maybe it’s his own way of comforting you.

Soon enough, he finishes. He throws the now used rag to the trash, letting go of your face. You stand there awkwardly for a little while, unsure of what to say, until you decide to break the silence.

“... Thanks...” Scaramouche looks at you and you expect him to tease you, to call you the names you’re both used to throwing at each other. It’s how your relationship works; tough words easily mistaken by outsiders as a mutual hatred, as two enemies merely tolerating the other, about to rip each others’ throats any second. Little would those people know it’s just your strange way of showing affection.

Strange, but it works well enough for the both of you.

Scaramouche simply sighs, rubbing the back of his neck - a telltale sign that he’s embarrassed, you’ve come to learn. “...t’s fine”

“...I mean it... Not just now but, um, before...” You look away, refusing to make eye contact; refusing to acknowledge that you’re about to say ‘you were right’ to your boyfriend of all people. “I really did need the help so, uh... y’know...”

The air is silent, awkwardness hanging in the air as you’re both standing there, not saying anything... The tension slowly feels like its draining everything from you.

So with a deep breath and a lot of courage, you step forward towards Scaramouche, and you grab his face, lightly squishing his cheeks with your hands. Before he’s able to protest, you pull him closer, pressing a kiss to his cheek and whatever he was going to say dies in his tongue instantly. 

“... Thank you for looking after me.”

What you thought would’ve been a solution to the silence ended up making it worse, as the air feels almost suffocating now. Slowly but surely, you feel your face heat up with embarrassment; the way Scara looks at you with surprise plastered all over his face certainly isn’t helping. You quickly let go of his face as if the mere touch burns your skin.

You turn to leave and maybe hide in your bed until the embarrassment passes but you’re janked back by your wrist, twisting around and clashing into a strong pair of arms, his lips capturing yours in an intense kiss that you can’t help but melt into. All the emotions Scaramouche can’t show with words, you can feel in the kiss.

He pulls away first, keeping his face close to yours. There’s a tenderness to his gaze that you rarely see, a vulnerability he shows to no one but yourself. His hand cups your cheek and you instinctively lean into his touch, craving whatever form of affection he’s willing to give right now; his thumb brushes over your bottom lip and he leans forward close to your ear, his breath tickling you and making you shiver.

“... Don’t start getting into fights just to make me kiss you...”

With that alone, the soft atmosphere switches to your usual bickering state. You push him away, jokingly and he knows it, covering your ear, the frown on your face completely negated of it’s intimidating intent with how red your cheeks are.

“You are insufferable.”

“Yeah... but you like it.”

[lazywriters-blog]

THE LOVELY NEIGHBOR ON THE LEFT

WARNING: May contain triggering content, mentions of harming oneself, and yandere content.

SUMMARY: Jealousy never looked good on anyone, but you thought it looked worse on your lovely gentle neighbor.

Author's note: My deepest apologies for taking so so long to get this out, life slapped me hard in the face and I reeled back, took awhile to get back up. I did realize that betrayal comes from the closest. Hopefully, this will make up for the time I've made you wait.

Her keys rattled as they spun and around in the lock hole, undoing the seal for her late afternoon chores, adjusting the plastic bags in her hands, and moving inside, pocketing her house key she looked at the clock, it reads 6:00 PM.

She couldn't wait to get out of her clothes and lay down.

Carrying the bags to her kitchen she dropped them on the counter letting them sit in the cold air and focused on going to her room to fresh up, stretching out her arm to reach for the switch she thought back about what she should do first.

But when she stopped to see her room in the dark when her hands struggled to find the button, she saw a figure sitting on her bed, and she held her breath staring at the unknown person making themselves comfortable on her mattress.

She turned her eyes to her closet, preparing a plan if she messes up, she should have a rod resting somewhere in the house, she knows she put it in one of her wardrobes.

"You never told me..." he started, he sounded so pained and sad, she instantly recognized the voice belonged to her lovely neighbor. Her fingers worked to turn on any source of light, wanting to take a step back as soon as possible and run out of her home.

Unfortunately for her, he stood up and quickly confronted her panic-stricken face, "Don't run away from me, we can talk." he tried to reassure her, making himself seem as small as possible despite his towering physique slowly walking closer.

She felt like a bunny caught in the spotlight, waiting for the chance to run after she has fooled the wolf in sheep's clothing. She thought he was harmless for the longest time she knew him.

But she was certain she didn't leave her front door unlocked for him to enter.

"Okay- we can talk, what is it?" she softly replied, her shoulders raised while she attempted to draw in a deep breath. He smiled hearing her response, a sort of shy grin she couldn't visualize anyone who forayed into their neighbor's house doing. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I- I umm... Didn't know what to do after I came to... Know of something."

"But I'm glad you are so understanding of me. It's honestly the best thing about you." she glued her gaze on him, eyes peeled open searching for telltales signs of danger. Quietly shuffling back whenever he closed his eyes to gather his thoughts and word his worries. "I know, you probably didn't mean to lead me on. Perhaps, you were just being friendly, and I-- I misunderstood things. But, lately... I've been thinking about you. More than I should."

He held his hands, pressing his trembling lips together, and stared at her. With tears in his eyes.

"I've been thinking of things I shouldn't! It makes me feel bad even thinking about it! I can't go on without addressing it though... I promised myself I wouldn't hesitate, and I would do my best even if it isn't needed, I would keep on trying until I've become what I want."

His hand reached out to clasp her arm but she hastily changed positions and widened her eyes, shrugging him off to make sure she didn't trap herself.

His eyes grew big, then he controlled his breathing. The pain had been written all over his face, now it heightened to a level she has never seen on the grown man no matter how he was cared for.

His lips quiver and willingly tears poured down his cheeks and he sobbed like as if he had just lost a dear friend to death.

"Why... Are you moving away from me? I would never hurt you. Am I a bad person? Do you see me as someone who would want to harm you?"

She didn't say anything, whatever he was going about wasn't normal in her eyes, something was wrong and they knew it.

"Now you wouldn't even answer me?" he gasped a breath through his mouth and fell to his knees, hiding his eyes and allowing himself to grief over a simple matter in a dangerous situation.

He had broken into her house and this would be the first time she's witnessed this.

The sympathetic side of her felt bad about it, the rational part of her just wanted to stay away. Letting him cry and lose hold of himself seemed like a bad idea though, she wouldn't know what to do then, she's a normal person with average talents, and running and dodging wasn't one of them.

She should de-escalate this.

She should make her way out of this with words.

Steadily crouching to him, she placed a hand on his back and gently rubbed his clothed skin, he looked up at her with teary eyes he bit his lip, and smiled a little, grief replaced with a flicker of hope.

"I was thinking, I'm sorry. What is bothering you?" she spoke, "I can't help you if I don't know anything."

He sniffled and locked eyes with her, raising his head back to better look at her controlled features, his eyes briefly traveled to her hand warming his skin, and sheepishly grinned, "Do you... Care about me?"

She wouldn't be telling a lie the first time he asked, "Yes, I care about you. You are my... Bestie." and suddenly, his smile fell.

"Best friend...?" he muttered.

"Yes, the best friend who happens to be my lovely neighbor on the left, and also the one who I'm trying to comfort right now." she smiled.

He remained mum, absorbed in the moment to think about what she said, dancing around a touchy topic that made him break-in the first place. To talk to her, to understand her better than those who have already taken her away from him.

He looked up when her hand squeezed him, and he really couldn't stomach the thought of her kissing someone else and having a family!

"Are you going to get married soon?" he asked, playing around with the subject and dragging on the dread like it was some sort of petty bet.

"...how did you know that? I haven't told anyone around here." she frowned and leaned back, "Did you... How did you find out? Are you mad I didn't tell you sooner?"

"I think, our kids would be cuter." he leaned close, "If it was a girl she would have my features, and if it was a boy he would have yours, their eyes would be a combination of ours, and our son would be mischievous like you. He would have your lips and my nose. Our kids will be so beautiful." he stopped breathlessly, narrowed eyes unfurling in pure glee.

"You would be the best mother, you would play with them and ask them what they wanted to eat before even making anything, you'll love them and I'll love them so much."

"Izuku, stop. We're not even... Married. What are you going on about, this isn't like you at all." she cupped his cheek and hoped it would get him to shut up and not make her run away without a plan B.

"I know... I never thought I would obsess over our kids but after I found out more about you, I couldn't help it! It was the only thing keeping me from losing hope of ever being with you! You'll be perfect and I'll be perfect for you!" he chanted, and just as easily as she had hushed him from crying, it was easier for him to ignore everything and sob.

"It was the only thing keeping me from killing myself! I want to see our kids grow and be successful and they could see how their mother and father loved each other! How much they were willing to sacrifice for them! They would want to find someone like us for themselves--!"

"Stop! What has gotten into you!?" she quickly grabbed his shoulders and shook them, staring at him frightened of what he was implying. They never had anything going on between them. They were just neighbors.

That was the extent of their relationship.

"Do you want to see me kill myself?" he asked pain-stricken by her words, but oddly calm. It made her shudder.

"No!! Are you out of your mind right now? Why the hell would you do such a thing?!"

"So you do want me hurting..." he mumbled quietly to himself, then he laughed but it seemed more so like he was crying. Throwing himself into her arms, he hugged her torso tight and nuzzled into her neck. "I'm sorry... Can you be with me? Can I stay here with you? I don't want to be alone right now... I really need you."

Slowly drawing out a breath she hoped he didn't heed, she patted his back, "Hmm..." she replied, awkwardly sitting on the flour and hugging him was something she did not anticipate upon stepping inside.

Maybe she should have taken her time.

How should she even begin to drag him out of her house and take a sign of relief? She didn't want him near.

"You'll always be with me, right?" he whispered in her eyes, arms lowered to her waist as she stared back at the room, the bed he had been sitting down just minutes ago.

But the topic had been so heavy, it felt hours had passed instead.

"If you want me to--" she answered softly.

"I want you to." he quickly interjected, taking a deep breath and caressing her neck. "Please."

She wasn't weak.

It would just take her longer to fool the wolf in her home.

[angelic-writer]

Whumpcember Day 11 - Infection

CW: Character death, Gore

Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed from the empty alleyway as Adam kept his gun close to him. There should be some food around here...

He moved some boxes around, trying to find some unopened cans. Hopefully, they haven't been spoiled by now. They have been without food for a while and the others were getting hungry and agitated. He volunteered to go alone despite Thatcher's objections.

He took slow, deep breaths as he approached a crate. Just as he was about to take a peek inside...

Something jumped out of the shadows, grabbing Adam's arm. He felt a jolt of pain before he pulled his gun out and shot it in the head. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it was a zombie. Wait a minute, that thing...

He looked at his arm. It was slowly dripping with blood. There was a noticeable bite mark on it, a telltale sign that he would be one of them soon. He hadn't realized he had started shaking, his chest tightening as he tried to breathe. He couldn't focus, his mouth moving to say the word "No." over and over again. He felt hot and cold. His heart pounded in his ears.

How was he gonna tell the others...?

How is he gonna tell Jonah? Cathy?

--------

There was a deathly silence at the table. Adam's sleeve was rolled down, showing his bite mark for all to see.

".......What do we do now?" Sarah asked.

Adam remained silent.

"Well... There are a few options... None of them is gonna end with Adam surviving..." Mark spoke.

"M-Maybe Adam won't turn into one of them. He's dealt with worse things before and he lived through it. He might make it through this one!" Cathy shakily said.

"I appreciate your optimism, Cathy, but you know what happens once you get bit. I'm sorry, but..." Thatcher sighed. "I'm afraid there's no saving him."

Jonah looked at Adam, not sure what to say to him. But he already knew what he was thinking. 'I'm so stupid! I should've gone with someone!'

Thatcher took out his gun and laid it on the table in front of Adam. He blankly stared at it. He hadn't said a word since the revelation.

"We're gonna be leaving soon, anyway. If you're gonna turn soon, we don't want anything to happen to us. This is the only way, unfortunately." Thatcher tried to keep his voice calm, but he couldn't ignore the aching pain in his heart. He had grown to care for these kids. They didn't deserve to be living this hell all alone. And now, Adam might become a walker or even worse... an Alternate.

I should've been the one to get bit. I should've been taking his place. But... What would Ruth think?

She wouldn't want him to become undead. She would want him to survive, to keep moving. So, this is what he has to do. And that includes leaving one of his own children behind to turn.

-------

As the days went by, Adam grew worse and worse. He had developed a high fever, he had started shivering and he was starting to cough up blood. He pulled the blanket closer to him in a futile effort to keep himself warm. The group had left hours ago, probably scouting out the area for another safehouse. He closed his eyes.

He hadn't touched the gun that Thatcher gave him. None of them wanted to put him out of his misery. Maybe they all had the same idea of false hope. That maybe Adam will be immune to this disease. Despite them losing the people they care about, they still stuck together. If it was any other group, they would've thrown him to the wolves. He could tell that they were hurting even when they tried to smile.

Jonah kept telling him stories about the high school shenanigans they would get into, Cathy kept giving him some of her favorite plushies... He tried to hold back the tears that were welling up.

He doesn't want to die. He doesn't want to become one of them. The tough boy exterior that he had built up had finally crumbled, finally revealing just how scared and alone he truly was.

He never got the chance to apologize and make peace with Evelin. He will never be able to see Cathy curl up to him and act like a cat. He won't be able to hear Jonah's obnoxious voice again.

Mom... Dad... If you were here, you would tell me it'll be okay.

As his vision faded, he could see a life he could've lived. With his mother and father, living a peaceful life without any zombies to worry about.

Perhaps... In another life....

His heart slowed.

And slowed.

And slowed....

And became still.

-------

Thatcher's arm was shaking as he and the others stared the horde down. They didn't seem to show any sign of stopping. The group had run out of bullets and they were worn down from hunger. They had no idea a large group of them was waiting when they stopped to rest.

Cesar gripped the crowbar, covering his bleeding arm with one hand.

"Ces, let me take a lo-"

"I'm not bitten!! You saw what happened!!"

Fred and George shielded their sister as she sobbed, trying to make herself look small. Sarah's arm trembled as she stood in front of Evelin, trying to put on a brave front. Jonah kept pulling the trigger to blow the zombie's heads off even though the gun was empty.

Thatcher couldn't believe what was happening. In the span of ten minutes, they were surrounded. Sure, the group had dealt with the same thing before, but that was before they met Thatcher. Now, the same thing had happened again.

And Ruth wasn't there to help him this time.

I'm sorry, Weaver... I-I failed you... I failed all of them. I promised to protect them when you died. But there's just too many of them.

He wasn't brave like everyone was telling him. He was a coward. Always has and always will be. Nothing would change that.

Just as he was closing his eyes to embrace the end, he saw something in the horde. At first, it looked like any other zombie that was wearing a blank hoodie. Then, he caught the tuft of blonde hair and it immediately clicked.

Oh god.... Adam...

He broke down right then and there. He collapsed to his knees and began to sob. Someone was yelling at him to get up, but the words faded away. He should've put Adam out of his misery when he had the chance. He should've put a bullet between his eyes. He just couldn't stand everyone's hurt looks whenever they saw him so he left with them and never looked back.

Why am I always such a fucking failure?!

His thoughts were cut off by something grabbing at him. Snapping out of his trance, he tried to fight the zombie off, but it was too strong. There was screaming. The zombie was dangerously close to his neck.

It was pulled back. A pair of hands grabbed its jaw and pulled. Its head was pulled apart, spilling brain matter onto Thatcher. He stared at what just killed it.

Adam?

He only glanced at him for a moment before he turned to Cesar. He ran at him with frightening speed, causing him to scream and raise his crowbar. Mark tried to get in front of him, but Adam pushed him away, grabbed Cesar's wrist and snatched the crowbar out of his hand. He turned to the horde, let out an animalistic growl and ran.

The streets were filled with the angry screams of Adam Murray as he bashed their heads in. Despite turning into one of them, he still had his humanity. Despite his differences with them, he will not stand by and let his friends be killed.

Blood, bone and brains soared through the air as he swung at them with stunning accuracy and grace. He was like a samurai swinging his sword and slicing up his enemies. He danced in the blood flowing out like ribbons. One zombie grabbed him by the arm, but he threw it to the ground and smashed its head in like a pumpkin. He felt the rage and he welcomed it. Embraced it.

So this is what it is to be a zombie. They must be so confused right now. I'm one of them now so why am I turning on them when I should be focusing on their food?

Who am I kidding? They're dead. They don't have cognitive thoughts anymore! They don't care what they think!

As soon as it began, it was over. The horde that was so overwhelming before was now a big pile on the street. Adam Murray was the only one left. He stood over them, staring at the decayed bodies of what they once were. He turned to the other survivors who were too shocked to even move. Stepping over the bodies, he walked over to them.

Jonah jumped and tried to step back, but his back hit the barricade. His breathing quickened as the reanimated body of his friend slowly stepped toward him. He screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the pain of being bitten, but it never came.

He felt him stroke his face. He pried one of his eyes open to see what used to be Adam looking at him with... recognition? Curiosity?

And then, he spoke.

"Jonah....? I-Is that you...?"

Tears poured down Jonah's face as Adam held him close. Everyone else continued to stare, the shock never leaving their faces. He clearly looked like a zombie, but he still had the ability to speak, to fight, to recognize who Jonah is.

Is this another mutation of the virus? Did Adam become an alternate? All these questions still plagued their minds as Jonah started to cry and embrace him.

[inscrutable-shadow]

Whumptober 2023 Days 4, 18 - wasn't what you wanted (but i had something to give)

@whumptober-archive

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?”

No. 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”

Blindfold | Tortured For Information | “Hit them harder.”

contains: gore, captivity, vampire whumpees, immolation

too long? read on ao3!

Avrae thought she really should have expected something like this. Waking with the red-hot sensation of silver blistering against bare wrists and frigid air tickling her ribs, perhaps not exactly, but some form of capture or another. One could only be public enemy number one of most of vampire-kind for so long before someone succeeded in kicking the shit out of you. What she genuinely didn’t expect to see was the bruised and battered face of one Thanatos Iuventus, being hauled around by his hair and generally looking worse for wear. He was also shirtless, and covered in what was presumably his own blood, red as it was. Their captors were Daxerine, and everyone knew Daxerines had black blood.

“Well, well, miss Angel of Death. Looks like we’ve caught two birds with one stone. I must admit, when your Harbinger was spotted in the area, I was quite worried, but once we’d caught him, my fears were quickly dispelled.” Avrae recognised this man from the briefing documents: Edric Godfrey, the current Lord Viarossa and the target. He and six of his scions were slated for elimination, leaving the two remaining members of the Viarossa bloodline to be folded into the new House Penumbrae, which was eagerly waiting to seize assets as soon as Avrae reported mission success. Lord Godfrey shook Thanatos a bit, which only served to increase his dishevelled appearance. The limp strands of dark hair clinging to his face, caked with blood and sweat, made him look a bit like a damp raven. Did he always look so wretched? Honestly. Typical Iuventus.

Thanatos’s breathing scraped raggedly from his throat and his eyes (faintly glowing red, a telltale sign of a hungry vampire) darted wildly around the room. He got his mouth halfway around “Ten- ugh…” before his face hit the floor.

Godfrey, who’d dropped him, stepped over his body into the room. “He hasn’t been of particular use to us, I’m afraid. I can’t imagine what you use him for.” The answer to that was obvious, even from here. The runic sigil tattooed onto Thanatos’s chest could be easily read by anyone who understood the magic as a planar focus. It was what let her shadow-walk over long interstellar distances to carry out the hits. Thanatos would go the slow way, and as soon as she was in, he’d take his leave and head for the next destination. She rarely saw him, and to be honest, that was just fine with her. “Fortunately, he brought you right to us. I trust you’ll be of much more use.”

“What the fuck do you want, anyway?” Avrae asked, ignoring Thanatos’s quiet whimpers. 

Godfrey leaned over her, careful not to touch the silver chains. “I want your list. Everyone slated to be executed. Everyone your new council of feral mongrels has deemed unnecessary.” His voice dipped to a malevolent growl as he spoke, and he cleared his throat and swallowed the emotion. Quite a bit of vitriol there, ‘feral’ was an insult vampires reserved for the most absolutely despised.

“Look in a mirror. You’re priority one, asshole.”

Her neck snapped to the side as he backhanded her across the face. This was enough to rouse Thanatos from his stupor of self-pity and put the fear back into his eyes. He pressed himself into the wall, hoping Godfrey would forget about him. Avrae couldn’t tell if he was putting on an act to appear non threatening or if Lord Viarossa had just put the fear of God into him. No time to ponder it, though. “Don’t get smart with me. If you don’t talk willingly, I’d love to convince you. Your friend here can tell you just how much I enjoy it. Get him up,” he ordered, and two other men stepped in to chain Thanatos to the opposite wall in a reflection of her own restraints.

Thanatos didn’t even flinch as the silver closed around his wrists. He was clearly used to it, and the scars on his arms confirmed that. Silver was the only thing that could scar a vampire, and its use was considered taboo for intraspecies disagreements. This ‘Culling War’, as it was being called by people on the wrong side of it, had seen all of those conventions thrown out of the nearest airlock. It was clearly meant to send the message that nothing was off the table, probably not even sunlight. She didn’t see the pale scarring of previously sun-scorched flesh anywhere on Thanatos’s exposed upper body, though, so that was a mercy. Meant they hadn’t been pushed that far yet. For the best, really, even the strongest stomach could turn watching charred skin slough off of muscle. 

“You remember this, don’t you, Harbinger?” Godfrey crooned, tipping Thanatos’s chin up with his left hand and bringing the right up toward an already red mark on the man’s side. The pulsing crackle of an electric baton drew both Avrae’s and Thanatos’s wary attention. “Why don’t we show her what we’ve been doing for the past few days?”

Thanatos went rigid and averted his eyes from the implement, his breathing settling into an uneasy rhythm. He didn’t flinch away as Godfrey brought the arcing electricity teasingly close to his skin. Avrae swallowed. She wouldn’t do him the dishonour of looking away, but it had been several centuries since she’d watched someone be tortured in front of her. That much disuse could make even the most hardened killing machine go soft. Though she’d never been as hardened as others had hoped. She’d always taken too greedily to peace, ached too desperately for normalcy. She would sand off her own sharp edges if it didn’t happen quickly enough on its own. Maybe that’s what had made her brittle, caused her to shatter, a hopeless, broken thing. (She just wanted to be like them.)

The contract had reforged her, made her a weapon again. She’d almost expected it when they’d approached her and offered a new assignment. It had been odd, not being wielded. It had felt good doing what she was made to do. Somehow, it didn’t feel good to watch Thanatos (delicate, rail-thin, craven Thanatos, whose greatest pre-vampiric hardship had been paternal pressure into an annoying career and who’d looked as if he were one cough away from an early grave every time she’d seen him) go through something she would have been expected to withstand as a child. It was just electricity, just pain. It was impossible for it to damage him permanently. Physically, at least. The sunken, haunted eyes told a different story.

The first scream was cautious, curated. Clearly intentional, gauging the atmosphere, probing Godfrey to see how far he wanted to go this time. Hoping that would be the end of it. The second had a bit of despair to its edge.

The third was real.

Long, drawn-out wails of utter agony rang through the small room. Red Lichtenberg figures blossomed across his side, like grasping fingers stretching toward the sigil on his chest. There was nothing Avrae could do to help Thanatos. They would just have to wait until Godfrey got bored. Asking him to stop would be a display of weakness, and she didn’t have the information that would theoretically save him. She didn’t even know who the target after Godfrey was supposed to be yet. Thanatos might, but if he did and wasn’t telling, he had more iron in him than she’d given him credit for.

Minutes pass and Godfrey shows no sign of slowing down. Thanatos gives no suggestion of wanting to beg for the pain to stop, either. His cries are entirely wordless and stop as soon as the prod is moved away from his skin. Either he’s already tried and knows it’s pointless, or it’s his own brand of defiance. Avrae’s tired of it either way.

“Is there a point to this or do you just like hearing him scream? My hearing’s very sensitive, so if it’s the latter, could you move this show somewhere else?” She made a point of ensuring her expression was as bored as possible, something she’d had quite a bit of experience with since becoming nocturnal.

Godfrey rounded on her, shaking the baton under her nose. “It could be you next. Ruin that pretty skin of yours. Unless you have something to tell me?”

“Nope.”

He growled in frustration and tipped her chin up with the end of the prod. “I don’t think you understand the severity of what I’m asking you.”

She smirked, shifting against the silver chains. “No, I think I get it. You think I’m the only method the Council has of getting this done? I’m the merciful route. You could kill me right here and it wouldn’t save you. You could know every name in the ledger and you couldn’t do jack shit about it. Either the High Council does this, or the Galactic Council does. They won’t be kind enough to leave two of your scions. They will gladly exterminate every single one of us. If my options are you kill me or they kill me, I’ll take silver over the stake or the sun.”

Lord Godfrey’s expression hardened into a scowl. “I’m going to leave you two to talk for a moment, and when I come back, I’ll immolate him.” He said the last few words slowly, leaning over her position sitting on the floor. Thanatos’s eyes flickered with some emotion, but quickly returned to glassy diffidence. “Let’s see where we stand after that.” Godfrey indicated to the other two men to leave the room, and the iron door scraped shut.

The room was silent for a few moments, then Thanatos made a sound that might have been a sob, but was stunted and malformed. He took a shuddering breath. “I… don’t want to die, Tenebrus.”

“Well, yeah. Expected as much.” She sighed. “I suppose you want me to get you out of this.” Thanatos said nothing. “You’re nothing but trouble, you know that?”

He blinked slowly. “I apologise.”

It wasn’t really any fun poking at him if he wasn’t going to fight back at all. “Do you have the info he wants?” Godfrey probably had cameras in here, but there wasn’t really any point in bluffing about this. They’d cross that bridge when they came to it.

He shuddered. “No. They give me the next location once they’ve confirmed you’ve reached the destination correctly. I’ve been here since before then, and I’ve got nothing through the datastream. I don’t know if signals can get through here.”

“Mm. I used your locator to get through, popped into an ambush. These assholes’re lucky I didn’t walk through them. If signals have trouble getting through, the Council might not even know I got here.”

“Would they send someone for you? If they knew?” Both of them knew Thanatos was a bit of a sacrificial lamb for this enterprise. If something untoward were to happen to him, he’d be replaced, simple as. Avrae was a bit more difficult to substitute. The Council might make an attempt at recovery rather than giving her up as lost.

“Dunno. Any chance of your uh… partner?” Most of the rumours about Thanatos, if you heard his name at all, centred around the idea that he was banging an extremely powerful magical being. Avrae didn’t quite believe it, but far be it from her to understand a fae’s sexual preferences.

He hesitated, then sighed. “No. None at all.” This sentence seemed to drain him more than even the torture had.

“They wouldn’t stop you burning to death?”

“Ae’s not available. Won’t even know what’s happened to me for a few years.” Oh. That was… awful, actually. Did this partner of his even know he was out here fighting a war?

“Okay. So we’re on our own then. I can break the chains, but the manacles won’t let me shadow-walk. I’d still be trapped.”

“You’re strong enough even with the silver? I suppose your physical enhancement must truly be S-class.” Sure. Whatever. If that made it easier to believe.

“Door’s silver-lined too. If I can get out of the silver while it’s open, I’ll be able to teleport and it’ll be easy to get you out then.” He had no reason to believe she wouldn’t just leave him there once she was free, but also, if he could have got himself out, he probably wouldn’t still be here.

Thanatos’s brow furrowed. “The only way to get you out would be if he- ah. I may have a solution.” She waited, but he failed to elaborate further.

“And?”

“Trust me. Play along. Let me show you what purpose a Iuventus serves.” His eyes had never looked defeated, except for the brief moment when he’d thought of his partner, but now she detected a glimmer of defiance or even mischief. What was he planning? She nodded, willing to let him take the lead.

He was quiet for several seconds and then raised his voice. “I want to confess! Please! You can’t silence me, Tenebrus. I won’t die for this cause!”

Godfrey immediately opened the door, much too eagerly. “Oh? Finally changed your tune? I almost thought I’d have to use this.” Behind him, his goons wheeled in what Avrae recognised as an ultraviolet spotlight. That thing could render a vampire to ash almost sooner than he could scream. She’d be astonished if Godfrey could watch that without vomiting.

“No, please, I don’t want to die!” Thanatos’s pleading was fervent, almost fanatical. “She can do what she likes to me. I… I can’t die. I’ll give you the information.”

‘She can do what she likes to me,’ eh? Avrae thought she might be picking up what he was putting down. “If you don’t shut the fuck up, you pathetic coward, I’ll make you fucking wish I’d immolate you. You think silver hurts? I’ll flay you and sun bleach your organs. Keep you nice and well fed, so you keep regenerating. You’ll beg for death by the time I’m done with you—”

“Promise me you’ll protect me! If you’ll protect me from her, a-and from the Council, I’ll tell you anything you want to know!” he begged Godfrey, on his knees at the man’s feet, or as close as he could get at the end of his chains.

Godfrey grinned. “Of course, anything you like. We’ll set you up with your own private estate, far away from all of this messy business. The Council will never find you, not even with their bloodhounds.” He shot a glance over toward Avrae. Oh, that was rich.

Thanatos’s laugh was almost manic. “See, Tenebrus? You have no hold on me. You would have to rip the tongue from my mouth to silence me now.”

Oh, okay. “Maybe I will, shitstain!” She pulled hard against the chains, and Godfrey’s eyebrows raised, momentarily alarmed. Yeah, get scared. “Maybe I’ll rip your larynx right out of your throat, see how much you spill then! I should have known when they assigned you to me it’d be something like this. You’ve never been anything but a liability.” It probably wasn’t necessary to drag him this badly, but she really wanted to sell it. “I’ll send you right back to your lover with no eyes, no tongue, and no dick.” One sharp pull, and the silver chain disintegrated.

Thanatos’s shrieks and chokes as her hands wrapped around his neck sounded pretty real, even though she wasn’t actually trying to suffocate him. She hoped he had a plan for this, cause she’d be obligated to actually kill him pretty soon if she didn’t want to lose face. Godfrey’s men were trying to pull her off of him at least, though they weren’t being very successful. She checked behind her quickly, and to her astonishment, they’d abandoned the spotlight blocking the door from closing. If she could get out of the manacles, they were free. The split second her eyes were off of Thanatos’s face let her also be surprised when her wrists erupted in pain.

“What the fuck?” she yelled and immediately dropped him. He’d bitten her, he’d actually fucking bitten her! Hold on. A green substance that was definitely not the typical vampire venom was eating through the metal around her hands. It was melting her flesh too, but that could probably be fixed. She held her arms toward her body to hide what was going on and let Godfrey’s men pull her back.

“Oho, looks like our Harbinger has a few thorns of his own. Don’t worry, Angel, we’ll take good care of him. And you. Once we don’t need you, I’ll take great pleasure in making you answer for what you’ve done.”

“Yeah, uh-huh,” Avrae murmured as the shackles hit the floor. One blink, and one of Godfrey’s men had a hole through his heart. Another, and the second went down. They were in the dossiers anyway. She’d have had to do it eventually. “Tell me all about what I deserve. I’ll make sure to take note of it. Don’t think you’ll get the chance to do anything about it, though. Why don’t we see what this thing does?” 

She kicked a gobsmacked Godfrey into the path of the spotlight and threw one of her shadow blades at the switch. The spectacle was just as horrifying as she’d imagined. Every inch of the vampire’s skin melted, then charred, then turned to ash, revealing new flesh which then did the same, his whole body bursting into white flame and rendering down to a pile of fine grey dust in seconds. Thanatos whimpered behind her, probably imagining himself in that position.

She turned to him. “Well. That was something. The fuck did you do, anyway?” The only response he gave was a moan, and she realised his lips, fangs, and tongue were being liquefied by the same substance he’d put onto her wrists. He probably couldn’t talk at all. “Were you keeping that acid in your fangs the whole time?” He nodded wearily. “Shadow’s fangs. You’ve got more balls than I thought.” He huffed and looked away. Shit. He was going to need to regenerate, or more likely, some kind of medical care.

She snapped him out of the shackles and heaved him over her shoulder. “You really are no end of trouble.” Thanatos made a sound that might have been a cough and might have been a laugh.

taglist: @albatris, @milkshakes-lust-and-chiral-dust, @thethistlegirlwrites, @athenswrites

[socalwriterbee]

Almost

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Tessa Martinez (f!MC) x Ethan Ramsey

Song Inspiration: Unfinished Business (Acoustic) by Neriah x JC Stewart

Rating/Warning: Angsty(ish)

Word Count: 1,337

Summary: After a night spent together, the reality of what happened three years ago starts to hit Ethan.

A/N: I made it! I thought I wasn't gonna make it in time for the deadline but it's still Friday here. I am participating in @moodmusicmonday Luck of the Draw and the song that was given was Unfinished Business by Neriah. I was going back and forth with two stories for this song, which is an incredible song!

A/N 2: I must apologize, this time around I may not have understood the assignment but what a worse time to get some writers block. Sorry for any spelling errors and other things!

Characters and some storyline mentioned belong to Pixelberry

Enjoy!

It was just shy of three years.

Three years when she said goodbye.

Had there been days where I could say good riddance? There were but I ended feeling like shit because I remember the last words I said to her when we signed on the dotted lines.

‘We were never a mistake.’

We weren’t.

I did what I did best when those thoughts crept in, I drank them away. They had no place in my head much less my heart.

She moved to another state, there was nothing holding her here anymore. But damn if I could still feel her presence everywhere I went. At least when I didn’t wallow in self pity and actually made an effort to go out. 

She was at Donahues, she was next to me when the silent city of Boston passed me by on my runs, whether it was in the morning or late at night, she was next to me with a gleam in her eye as she took in the opera. 

And now?

Now she was next to me or had been. The room I found myself in felt cold, there are no personal touches, nothing that makes it a home. Because it wasn’t.

Nothing that makes it her.

With my hands behind my head, I stare at the ceiling, the sound of the shower running, creeping through the small opening of the bathroom door mixing with the sound of her voice as she sings a song I don’t recognize. 

Somethings never change.

Was I the only one who heard her sing or at times hum in the shower? Had there been others in the same exact position I found myself in? I shake those thoughts out of my head, of course there had been, one look at her and how could you not find yourself falling in love and in my case more in love with her.

My mind goes back to earlier that night at Donahue’s. I had been outside in the beer garden, knowing she was going to be there, thanks to a certain friend of hers. So I waited patiently for her to find me because if Sienna told me, she told her.

And find me she did. Greeting me with another drink when she sat across from me and I did everything, and I mean everything in me to control the mix emotions that were running through me. If anyone would have told me that I’d be feeling like this ever, I’d call bullshit. I didn’t show emotion, I hadn’t been one to believe in love, I never got that butterfly flutter in the pit of my stomach, I never got the urge to take someone right then and there until her.

Again.

There I was taking in the loose dark waves of her hair, framing her face as a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, the iris of her brown eyes getting darker as we stared at each other. Similar thoughts running through us, we still knew our telltale signs of want. 

Three years had gone by and she looked the same, three years later and she was still beautiful. My wife. Fuck, ex-wife, she still took my breath away.

Me, on the other hand, I was looking older that was a given. Specks of gray touching my brown hair, a few wrinkles setting in the corners of my eyes. She had broke the silence between us, we had gone down memory lane. But in my mind I was going down my many what if’s.

That trip to Cape Cod…what if I made the effort to spend more time with her?

My return from the Amazon… what if I didn’t go? Would we had more time together?

What if I had been a better husband? What if I loved her the way she deserves? What if we started a family? What if, what if, what if!

“Ethan.”

I follow the sultry low voice and stop when my eyes fall upon Tessa standing against the doorway in only a towel. 

Letting out a groan at the sight in front of me, Tessa raises an eyebrow at me. “I’ve been calling you but you seemed lost in thought. You ok?”

Pushing myself up the bed into a sitting position, my back against the headboard, the tangled bedsheet covering my lower half. My gaze following her every movement until she is at the side of the bed.

“I’m fine.”

Tessa stares back at me, not believing the words that came out of my mouth. I’d like to believe that there was a time in my life that I didn’t overthink things but it felt like we still could make it. Getting lost with her in her hotel room, I thought it would help to get her out of my system but just like before she dug herself deeper into my soul.

Had that been my mistake? Not me falling for her but thinking she would fall for me again.

There was a dip in the bed as Tessa climb on and sat next to me, sitting with her legs tucked under her. “What are you doing tomorrow?” Tessa asks, the softness of her hand covering the back of my hand.

“I have the day off.”

“Yeah, ok. That wasn’t what I asked Ethan.” Tessa says, moving closer. I could see her fighting her body to stop from straddling me, my own body itching to reach over to her and wrap her around me. “Maybe we could have dinner.”

“I—.” I begin to say but close my mouth just as fast.

“We’re friends, aren’t we? Come on Ethan, it’s just dinner.”

I didn’t know what hurt the most, didn’t know what caused this feeling that felt like a punch to gut that took all the oxygen from my lungs. Showing her tonight what she still means to me wasn’t enough because right now in her mind I was just a friend. 

Not her ex-husband and certainly not her lover. 

There was a world where it was me and her but that world no longer exists.

“I’m gonna go.”

I go to slide my hand from under hers, when she tightens her hold. “That’s not what I meant.”

But it was.

Three years ago I didn’t think I would be the one still feeling like this. I promised myself that I wouldn’t let anyone in the way I had Tessa. I saw the look in her eyes when we signed our divorce papers, she thought we were forever and at some point I did too.

I had turned cold, showing no emotion when Tessa showed her emotions on her sleeve. I needed to let her know that we weren’t a mistake so she could move on.

Now it was time for me. Funny to think that after three years and after seeing her again, the failure of our marriage was finally hitting me.

Tossing the covers to the side, I get out of bed, no need to feel embarrassed by my nakedness around her, gathering my clothes that was scattered across the floor mixing with hers, I begin to dress.

Running my hand through my hair once I was dressed, Tessa in the same spot on the bed, watching me, never saying a word.

One word was on the tip of my tongue, that one word that would truly be the end of us, but I couldn’t say it and god I’m trying, my mouth going dry.

Tearing my gaze away from her, I take the few steps that lead to the door of her hotel room. My hand steady on the door handle, we got so close or at least I thought so. That was what that sucker punch feeling was, the almost. 

The almost.

“Goodbye Tess.”

My words meet the closed door, I don’t bother looking back. The silent hallway greets me as I walk out the door leaving Tessa. 

We got so close but any unfinished business between us was done.

[camels-pen]

greater good

Summary: Tim becomes the first magical boy.

warning: major character death

Ao3 Link

When Tim clawed his way back to consciousness, his eyesight blurry and unfocused, it took him a moment to recognize his surroundings.

At first, he thought he’d woken up in the Batcave’s medbay, staring up at the stalactites and sleeping bats. He relaxed automatically, noting a familiar black shadow just out of his peripheral.

Then the ringing in his ears died down.

Someone—Oracle—was in his comm, trying to get him to respond. The sound of bat-grade explosives going off followed the shadow—Batman—as he led someone around the roof. Notably, leading them away from Tim.

He tried pulling himself up, tried to assure Babs he was fine, but even the slightest twitch sent a feeling of unimaginable pain through him, only able to silently hiss. Nothing was wrong with his throat as far as he could tell, but the pain stole his voice every time he tried opening his mouth.

Tim had forced himself to move around, operate a jeep, and carry Pru when he got his spleen stabbed, but this? This was so much worse. 

He couldn’t use his grapple like this. He’d have to wait and hope that Bruce could handle whoever he was fighting on his own. 

Speaking of which, who was this person? Tim couldn’t remember fighting anyone before he blacked out. He and Bruce were swinging past WE last he checked. 

Did someone get the drop on Tim and Bruce had been fighting them ever since? And if so, who?

Resigned to his predicament and wanting answers, he slowly turned his head to watch the fight.

It was a young girl wielding a spear. She didn’t seem to be getting much hits in, as Bruce was largely unscathed, but that wasn’t the main thing on Tim’s mind.

He groaned internally. Of course, right after saying that whole speech over the comms about how bo staffs are the best long reach physical combat weapon, he gets taken down by someone with a spear. Bruce is probably gonna tease him when they get home and Damian’s never gonna let him live it down.

A pained grunt from Bruce brought Tim back to full attention. Within the span of a few seconds that Tim was distracted, there were almost a dozen new cuts in the armor, several of them bleeding profusely.

Tim’s eyes widened. Did she have enhanced speed? What—

Batman threw down a smoke bomb, the thicker kind that are usually meant to flush people out of a building and not typically meant to be used like the standard ones due to the sheer amount of smoke output from the capsule. 

In a moment, Batman was in front of him, grimacing as he knelt by Tim’s side. 

Something glinted over Batman’s shoulder.

He got one arm under Tim’s legs and the other behind his shoulders, leaning over Tim as he prepared to get up—

And Tim—

He still couldn’t speak—

Couldn’t warn—

The spear was thrust straight through the centre of the bat symbol, splattering blood all over Tim’s face.

Bruce coughed, like all of the air wooshed out of his lungs at once. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth.

And Bruce—he didn’t go down. He removed the hand under Tim’s legs, likely trying to reach for another smoke bomb, but—

The spear was torn out of him. Then thrust back in. Through his heart this time.

Then it was torn out again. Then back in. Right lung.

Then out. Then in. Left lung.

Out. In. Brain.

Then. It stopped.

“Huh. Guess this means the Batman wasn’t a witch after all.” An unfamiliar voice said. “Oh, you’re still alive? Woopsie. Well, if he wasn’t a witch, then you probably aren’t either. So don’t worry kid, I won’t kill ya.

“And I suppose I should say sorry for my mistake. Or rather, sorry that I’m not sorry?” 

The telltale sign of shifting gravel as someone jumped off the roof barely registered. 

“Why?” he croaked, some time later, finally able to speak the words that were repeating over and over in his mind. “Why did you protect me? Why didn’t you run?”

His father stayed silent, still leaning over him. Both of Bruce’s arms moved to either side of Tim’s body while he was being stabbed. The final blow had knocked him over, but in the end, Bruce was still covering him.

Tim laid there, unable to move as his father’s body slowly started to cool on top of him. 

He screamed.

---

“I’ll admit, I was surprised. You’re not within the usual age range or gender demographic,” a little white creature said. “But your potential far outweighs almost all of the girls I’ve ever seen before.”

Tim stared blankly at it. With each breath he felt his dad crushing his lungs with his weight.

The creature’s tail curved over its head. It stared at him with unblinking red eyes.

“So, what do you think? Would you like to become a magical boy, Timothy Drake-Wayne?”

---

The Wayne family and their friends were all gathered round their dining room, setting down dishes of food and messing with table settings. The smell of mouth watering homemade meals filled the air. The pictures on the wall shuddered as Damian jumped on Steph’s back and she stumbled into the wall, laughing. The others were either engaged in some kind of conversation or presumably in the kitchen with Alfred.

Dick appeared through the doorway, looking the same as ever, followed by—a surprised inhale—Jason, looking haggard, but otherwise… happy.

The others sat down, starting to dig into the food when Jason spoke up.

“Wait.” All eyes turned to him. “We’re missing someone.”

“Oh, he’s probably in the Cave. You know how he gets with cases about missing kids.” Dick set down the last plate he was carrying and moved to the empty spot beside Cass. “I’ll get him when we’re done.”

“No need.”

Dick jumped before turning to glare. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“Oh, I think I am,” Bruce said with a smirk. “I also think you need to work on your situational awareness.”

“Come on, I’m never fully alert when I’m home. ‘Home’ is literally in the name.”

He didn’t hear much else after. Alfred closed the cracked window and they all settled down for the meal.

“You’re not going to join them?” Kyubey asked, sitting on the fresh layer of snow dusting the ground.

“No.” Tim watched them a moment longer through the window, an it’s better this way trapped on his tongue, before turning and walking in the opposite direction. “New intruders?” 

“There’s a new magical girl who just crossed the Kane Memorial Bridge. It seems she’s lost.”

“Fine.” His costume—not the Red Robin one, a new one meant for fighting magical girls and witches alike—took the place of his hoodie and jeans. A large black and red poleaxe appeared in his hand. “Let’s hope she listens better than the last one.”

[jodilinbio]

NOTE: This next section was updated in 2002 and edited for sharing in 2024.

I’ve been home for ten months now, and so far, there have been no additional legal problems—nothing major, anyway. However, we did have to shell out an additional $60 to get me a mental health screening that was supposed to be covered by the state. Part of the terms of my probation stated that I must have an “immediate” mental health screening. Well, six months isn’t very immediate, so why they didn’t do this while I was still in jail beats me. But you know how it is—the courts can bend the rules as they see fit.

I know that as long as we live in this house, we’ll always be potential targets of the very sick people who turned my life upside down, all in the name of hate and revenge. The question is: how much hatred do they still harbor toward me, and how brazen and invincible do they feel about showing their dark side even more?

“Don’t worry about it,” Tom assured me. “Their connections are in Phoenix, not here.”

But I do worry. After all I’ve been through because of these sickos, I can’t help but worry. It’s been five long years now, with them obsessively making my life a living hell, with nearly two more to go, at the very least. I have no reason to believe they’re just going to go away.

“Why should they?” one inmate said to me while I was still in jail. “They already know they can get you through our joke of a legal system, so why should they quit torturing you now just because you moved? Look how much worse they’ve affected your life from a distance than when they were just a few feet away. You said it yourself; they took full control of your life. Before, they were just a noise nuisance. Well, honey, it’s up to you to take back your life because they aren’t about to give it to you.”

Fortunately for me, I have an uncanny knack for sensing impending danger, though I don’t usually sense good things on the horizon. Right now, I don’t sense any immediate trouble. If they’re going to get me through the law and set me up again, I wouldn’t expect it to happen until the end of probation. If they plan on coming after us or doing something to the house, it would probably happen right after the probation ends. It’s going to be hard for this sick bitch to suddenly have no connection to me. I know her type—someone who likes to be in control. First, she lost the connection she had to us by being our neighbor. When she loses the connection and control she has through the law, there’s no telling how she might react.

Still, I get a little paranoid every time I hear a vehicle drive by. I’m always looking out the window. Not just because I enjoy the wildlife and the beauty of the view, but because I’m always watching for the telltale sign of dust that says someone’s coming down the road. I hope and pray it’s just some harmless soul who doesn’t care that I exist any more than I wish to acknowledge their existence.

In November, the pump on the well went out, and we had to shower at Mary and Dave’s place. We got a bigger pump and switched from plastic piping to galvanized piping, which cost over five grand. Tom’s mother paid for it, and while I’m very grateful, I also feel she owed us, considering the time and money she took from us early in our marriage. Even though the time can never be replaced. She was supposed to give us money, as well as Mary, David, Ray, and Steven—money that both she and Dad agreed to give us before he died. But she never did.

In February, our heat pump sprang a Freon leak.

Backing up to my release: I wasn’t let out of my cell until 5 a.m., but that was okay because they usually pull you out at 2 a.m., and I’d have just sat in the crowded, smelly holding cell even longer, with no place to lay down and relax. I actually fell asleep while waiting.

As the escort and I passed J Dorm on the way to the outtake area, the door opened, and out popped Pérez. “I saw your name on the list, and I wanted to say goodbye,” she said, extending her hand toward me.

I was glad I got to say goodbye to her, along with a few others who were awake, pressing their hands against the Plexiglas window, to which I pressed mine as well in a final farewell.

Due to only sleeping a couple of hours and being so excited, I didn’t really say all the things I wanted to say to her, but that would come later in a letter I wrote to her a year after my release. Instead, I excitedly exclaimed, “This is it! I don’t believe it! The time’s finally come!”

“I told you it would,” Pérez said.

After sitting in the holding cell for about an hour, we changed out of our uniforms and left. Tom pulled up in the car, and I ran out into the parking lot and jumped in next to him. We hugged and kissed on the way out of the lot, then headed for a fast-food drive-through. Oh, how wonderful it was to have burgers, chicken strips, fries, and shakes! Real, honest-to-God American food. Chinese and seafood were my favorites, and I was determined to catch up on that as well.

After getting our food, we headed toward the house with me chatting excitedly about seeing Houdini. That’s when Tom told me he was dying, and I nearly choked on my chicken strip. Here was yet another thing these degenerate fucks had taken from me—the last six months of Houdini’s life. He looked awful when I got back to the house, and he died two days later. Harry, the rat Tom got to replace Ratsy, died shortly after as well. A few days later, we went to the pet store and bought Sneezy and Little Buddy.

Sneezy’s the strangest rat we’ve ever had. All rodents are curious, love to explore, and would gladly escape their cages if they could, yet Sneezy, who has worse allergies than I do, never does. I could leave the cage door open forever, and he’d never climb out.

Little Buddy is by far the best rat so far. He’s smart, playful, and loving. He loves to come out and explore, and he loves attention too. I share my weekly treats with him. He really loves ice cream, but most rats will eat almost anything!

We only had one mouse left by the time I got home, so we bought a few more the same day we got the rats. I’ve tried breeding black-and-white mice, which are Teddy Bear’s favorite, but so far, I haven’t been successful. I have plenty of others for her to choose from, though, if I do end up seeing her.

At first, I thought Teddy Bear wouldn’t wait and that she’d contact me around Christmastime, but then I realized that being the dedicated professional she is, she’d definitely wait the whole year. That’s okay, though, because I know good things are worth waiting for, even though I miss her a lot.

I opened my Christmas presents, which had been sitting there for four months.

On top of having satellite TV, we also got a satellite connection to the internet. MP3s had become a big thing, and I was having fun collecting them.

At first, I was overwhelmed by all the appointments I had to keep up with. I had to go somewhere related to my probation at least three times a week. Two days after my release, which was on a Monday, we went to Phoenix to the probation office. We met with a guy I’d never heard of before. I filled out forms, got treated like a child with all the things I wasn’t allowed to do, and then waited until mid-May for a courtesy transfer since I now lived in Pinal County instead of Maricopa County.

Then we went to Casa Grande to meet Scott, the guy who would be my probation officer. Scott was a somewhat short, stocky guy, the same age as me. I nicknamed him “Apple Cheeks” because of his chubby face. I never disliked Scott, but I never liked him either. The humorless guy always struck me as the insensitive type. I’m polite towards him, but not friendly. That’s how I usually am these days toward most people anyway.

We went through the whole spiel again about what I could and couldn’t do, but as far as I was concerned—although I didn’t tell him this—no one was going to tell me how to live my life once I was back in the freedom of my own home. If I felt we needed a gun, we’d get one. If I wanted to associate with Paula, who had a record, I would do so. No state, county, or person was going to pick and choose who I associated with, where I went, or what I did. It was my life, and goddamn it, I was going to take charge of it once and for all! I was powerless when it came to payments, reporting, and house calls, but I was determined to be in the driver’s seat of my life in as many other ways as possible.

Although I’ve considered absconding many times to break free from the hold these twisted people still have on me, I’m sticking around and enduring the bullshit I don’t deserve, hoping that someday it’ll finally be over. Maybe I shouldn’t be optimistic about this, and maybe running would’ve been the right thing to do in this case, but with nowhere to run to and my determination not to let these assholes run me out of my own home, I’ve decided to stay put.

The Casa Grande visit turned out to be one of the most humiliating and degrading experiences of my life because I had to pee in front of a female probation officer for their routine drug test.

Besides having to pay $40 a month in “processing fees,” I have to report to Scott twice a month and deal with unwanted home visits from him as well. I don’t mind if he visits when I’m awake, but I’m not fond of people inviting themselves over while I’m sleeping. His visits are erratic. For the first four months, he came once a month. Then a few months went by without any visits. Lately, he’s been coming every two to four weeks, though January was the only time he came twice in one month. Still pretty ridiculous for a letter.

The community service turned out to be easy enough, and I was surprised that it was something I could do at home. I was grateful to have a tub separate from the shower stall and one that was so big because it was needed to soak labels off bottles. Gina, who ran the community service at the town’s recycling center, had us come in, pick up empty wine bottles, then soak them until we could scrape off the labels. After that, we’d drop them off at some guy’s place where they used the bottles to make decorative pieces. They melted the bottles down to make things like plates for pots and other items. Every other week, I picked up a couple of hundred bottles. By September, I had completed my community service.

I saw Helen about half a dozen times between June and October. She had supported me with cards and visits to the jail, and she continued to be encouraging after my release.

About a month after I got out, Mary contacted me. She asked if I’d be willing to help her write a book about her life. She told me she was determined to do this, even if it only helped one person, and I agreed to help her. We started exchanging letters, and in them, she included bits and pieces of her life for me to type up. I don’t know if we’ll ever get a book published, but anything’s possible.

I told her about Teddy Bear, and she told me the last time she saw her, she had dyed her hair dark red, to my surprise, and was growing out her bangs. I can’t wait to see her, either way!

Though we have home improvement plans, such as fencing off the property, building porches and a garage, putting in a pool, and planting privacy plants, there’s no telling when we’ll have the money to do it all. We’ll probably have to do it a little at a time.

As I predicted, Maricopa is slowly but surely building up.

For now, I try to take it one day at a time and hope for the best. I hope these people will someday be part of our past, rather than part of our lives like they have been for so long now.

Instead, I hope to have Teddy Bear as a wonderful addition to my life soon enough, though I can never know for sure what will happen between us or if I’ll even see her again.

Tom, the man I’ll love forever, still works at Bank of America and is mostly on the third shift these days.

[kinocollectives]

Signs That A Content Marketing Agency Is Right For You

While in the process of hiring such an agency, mistakes may occur - just remembering this from childhood has taught us not to see failure as something unchangeable but as an opportunity for growth is important in helping achieve success.

Here is a post that will assist in helping you identify what qualities should be present when looking for a Content Marketing Agency Singapore, and we will cover aspects that indicate whether an agency is only in it for financial gain.

Our topics will be straightforward yet effective; these methods have been tried-and-tested multiple times over. As a result, you are sure to gain some invaluable information by reading this blog.

Let's begin by outlining some telltale signs that content Marketing Video Production In Singapore agencies might be right for you.

Conversation Proves It

Our ancient methods still work effectively today. Through conversations, it's possible to determine whether someone is lying. Even though agencies might not want you to speak directly on the phone, you can still assess their intentions through chat.

Use logic and evaluate what they say so you know what is real and what may be exaggerated. To assess whether their claims are valid or not, learn more about the services you plan to utilize. Be careful, though; scam Brand Video Production Company Content Production Company can easily be identified. They'll make claims that sound too good to be true or offer promises too good to be true.

What happens if you encounter a fraudulent agency? Report them and spread the word so others won't fall prey to their scam.

Content Marketing Agencies that Produce Results

Results should always be the goal when hiring a content Marketing Video Production Services Singapore agency; you want results for your business! Content Production Studio often have many followers but no tangible results to demonstrate their worth.

Keep in mind that following an agency won't do you any good; what you need instead is one with a proven track record. Ask them for reports, case studies, screenshots and client testimonials so you'll know if their motive is genuine or focused solely on building more followers.

Be wary of agencies that make excuses when showing results; this should be an instant red flag and indicate they may not be suitable to hire. If this occurs, do your research on potential agencies before making your choice.

As previously discussed, an agency's failure to reply quickly to your messages prior to beginning a project can indicate their likelihood of doing so during its duration. Our next point sheds more light on this subject.

People Reply On Time 

Expecting people to respond on time can be frustrating; yet we expect agencies we hire to respond on time can be even worse. Imagine not receiving their response after having hired them? Now THAT would be truly disheartening.

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[sweatydestinyblaze]

Killua x Mika x I don't want this child.

“Killua, I want to tell you something,”

Mika said as she approached Killua, who was exercising .

Killua stopped his exercise and turned to face Mika, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"What is it this time? You know I hate being interrupted when I'm working out."

He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Just spit it out already,"

he growled impatiently, not able to hide how irritated he was by her presence.

“Do you remember when you told me to take birth control pills so that I wouldn’t get pregnant while having sex together?”

Mika says in a low voice.

Killua frowned, recalling the conversation.

"Yeah? What about it?" He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a nearby weight bench.

"Well,"

Mika began hesitantly, looking down at her feet.

"I went to see the doctor last week for something else and they asked if I was on any form of birth control. When I told them no...they said there might be some risks."

She swallowed hard before continuing.

"It turns out those pills don't work as well when you take certain antibiotics at the same time. Apparently, one of the ones you gave me interferes with their effectiveness."

Mika looked up at Killua beseechingly.

"I know we haven't had sex since then but what if..." Her voice trailed off nervously.

Killua's eyes widened in surprise.

"What are you saying?"

He demanded, his voice raising slightly in alarm.

"You mean...you could be pregnant? But we only had sex that one time,"

he said incredulously. It was true they hadn't used a condom during their encounter, but still - it seemed impossible for her to already be showing signs of pregnancy after just once!

He looked Mika up and down quickly, trying to spot any telltale signs himself. His heart began racing as he realized how serious this situation could be if she were indeed carrying his child.

His hands trembled slightly as he took hold of both of Mika's shoulders firmly.

"I need you to take another test right away,"

he ordered sternly, his gaze fixed on hers intensely.

"And make an appointment with your doctor too."

"I don't want Killua, I don't want that. I'm tired."

Mika says nervously.

"I just want us to have a small child...is that a problem?"

Mika replies shyly as she looks at him. She knew that Killua hates children.

Killua felt a flash of anger at Mika's words.

"What do you mean, 'is that a problem?' Of course it is! I never agreed to having kids!"

He shouted back at her in frustration and annoyance.

He took a deep breath to calm himself down before continuing more quietly but firmly

, "I made my position clear when we first started sleeping together; I don't want children."

He paused for emphasis before adding forcefully,

"And even if I did change my mind someday, it wouldn't be because some antibiotic messed up your birth control pills without telling me!"

Killua crossed his arms over his chest again, glaring at Mika challengingly as he waited for her response. He knew they would have to talk this through - but he wasn't prepared for just how serious the situation had become yet.

"But"

Mika was going to speak but Killua held his jaw.

"No."

Killua interrupted her harshly, cutting off whatever she was about to say. He shook his head firmly from side to side, adamant that there would be no discussion or negotiation on this matter

"This is not something we can just brush under the rug and pretend didn't happen,"

he told her sternly.

"You need to take another test - today - and make an appointment with your doctor immediately. And if you're really pregnant..."

His voice trailed off ominously as he locked eyes with Mika, daring her to continue down this path.

Killua knew their relationship had always been tumultuous at best; adding a potential child into the mix could only make things worse. But even more than that, he couldn't fathom becoming a father against his will – especially when it meant being tied down by someone like Mika for years to come...

“And what if you are pregnant, what will you do?”

Killua's eyes narrowed in suspicion at Mika.

"What are you getting at?"

He demanded warily, his voice low and threatening.

"You think I won't step up and take responsibility for my actions? You know damn well that isn't true."

His jaw clenched tightly as he thought about the possible consequences of Mika being pregnant with his child - both emotionally and practically speaking.

He took a deep breath to calm himself down again before continuing more evenly but firmly:

"But just because we have this potential issue doesn't mean things should stay the same between us,"

he said forcefully.

"Our relationship has always been messy at best; adding something like an unwanted pregnancy into the mix could only make things worse."

Killua paused for effect, wanting her to understand where he stood on this matter clearly.

"I'm not ready – or willing – to be tied down by someone like you for years on end while raising another person who shares half their DNA with me...so if you truly want what's best for all involved, maybe it would be better for everyone if..."

“So what, Killua, what?”

Mika says.

"...you and I go our separate ways."

Killua finished coldly, his gaze fixed on Mika's face without any hint of emotion.

He knew it wasn't an easy decision - for either one of them - but he also couldn't imagine continuing down this path together under these circumstances. Not when so much was at stake – including potentially their future selves and the life they would have to share if things didn't change soon.

illua took a step back from her then, opening up some space between them once more.

"Just think about what I'm saying,"

he told her firmly before turning away and walking towards his room. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in Mika's ears as she stood there alone, wondering just how much everything had changed in such a short amount of time...

Mika stood there for a moment longer, trying to process what had just happened. Killua was usually so harsh and demanding but this time he seemed almost...scared? Or maybe it was something else entirely – like the realization that their lives were about to change forever whether they wanted them to or not.

Either way, she knew she couldn't ignore his words - or his feelings on the matter. Even if she did somehow manage to convince him to keep things between them going despite everything else...wasn't that just delaying the inevitable? And possibly causing more harm than good along the way.

With a heavy heart, Mika turned around and walked back towards her own room without saying another word. Maybe things would have been different if she hadn't taken those antibiotics maybe not. All she could do now was face whatever came next with as much grace (and fortitude) as possible.

As she closed her door behind herself, Mika took a deep breath before reaching into her pocket to retrieve her phone.

Mika quickly typed out a message to her doctor, explaining the situation and asking for an appointment as soon as possible. She then searched online for information about birth control pills and antibiotics – hoping against hope that there was some other explanation for all of this.

As she waited for responses from both sources, Mika sank down onto her bed with a heavy sigh. It felt like everything in her life had been turned upside-down overnight; she couldn't help but wonder how things would play out from here on out...

At night, Killua was sitting on his bed until Mika entered.

“Killua, I want to tell you my decision... My decision is that I will keep the child,”

Mika says.

Killua's eyes widened in surprise at Mika's words.

"What do you mean? You can't be serious..."

He trailed off, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"I know this wasn't part of our plan,"

she continued hesitantly, taking a seat across from him on the bed.

"But I've been thinking about it a lot lately - and deep down inside, I feel like having a child with you would bring us closer together somehow."

He scoffed at her words.

"That's ridiculous! We're barely hanging onto our relationship as it is; adding something as huge as parenthood into the mix would only make things worse!"

Mika took a deep breath before continuing more earnestly:

"I understand that maybe we haven't always gotten along or made the best choices for each other. But don't you think maybe having a child could change all that?"

Killua's face darkened at Mika's words.

"No, I don't think it would change anything,"

he said firmly, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Our relationship has always been tumultuous at best - adding a child into the mix will only make things worse.

" He crossed his arms over his chest defensively as he stared her down. "And what kind of life are you planning on giving this poor kid anyway? With both of us fighting all the time and never able to agree on anything?"

Mika opened her mouth to respond but Killua cut her off with an upraised hand.

"I mean look at how we've been living lately! Always arguing about everything under the sun!"

He shook his head again, more adamantly than before.

"We're not ready for something like this – or each other."

" I know that you You love me, obviously you are tired of me, Killua"

Killua scoffed at Mika's words.

"Don't flatter yourself,"

he said bitterly, rolling his eyes.

"I've never been in love with you,"

he continued harshly.

"And even if I was once upon a time...well, let's just say that's all water under the bridge now."

Mika opened her mouth to respond but Killua cut her off again.

"Look, we both know this isn't going to work out between us - especially not with a baby involved."

He stood up abruptly from where they were sitting on the bed, turning away from her and beginning to pace back and forth restlessly.

"Obviously not,"

Killua retorted harshly, the word

"tired"

seeming to echo in his ears.

He took a deep breath before continuing more calmly:

"Look, I'm not denying that there have been some good times between us - but those were few and far between."

He shook his head sadly as he thought about how things had deteriorated over time.

Mika opened her mouth to say something else but Killua held up a hand again to stop her.

"Please just listen for onc he said wearily."I care about you - maybe even still love you in my own twisted way. But our relationship has always been too volatile; adding something like having kids into the mix would only make things worse down the line."

"Okay then let's break up if you want then me and my baby will go forever Killua"

Mika says stupidly...

Killua stopped in his tracks, whirling around to face Mika once more.

"What did you just say?"

He demanded, his voice laced with disbelief and anger.

"You heard me,"

she replied defiantly, her chin raised stubbornly despite the uncertain look in her eyes.

"If this is what you really want - if having a child together would make things too complicated or messy for your liking – then fine."

Mika took a deep breath before continuing more calmly

"But know that I'm making this decision with open eyes and an understanding of all the potential consequences involved. And also..."

She trailed off meaningfully as their gazes locked intensely again.

Mika looked at Killua for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she nodded slowly and stood up from the bed as well.

"Alright,"

she said quietly, turning away from him to gather her things together.

"I guess this is it then."

She paused in the doorway leading out of their shared room, glancing back over her shoulder one last time before speaking again

"Take care of yourself, Killua... And maybe we'll both find what we're looking for eventually."

Without waiting for any response from him, Mika turned and walked down the hall towards her own room – leaving behind not only the man who had once been an important part of her life but also the dreams they had shared about building something more together.

As she closed the door behind herself with a soft click, all that remained was silence…and memories fading into obscurity like dust motes dancing in a shaft of sunlight.

[kandyrezi]

anonymous said: Hey howdy hey! Can I request some yandere headcanons of Emalf from okegom please? anonymous said: May I request Yandere! Emalf headcanons? Your writing is just so amazing! You are so talented! anonymous said: could I rq yandere emalf headcanons (sfw and/or nsfw)? tysm!

[ ♡ / ♢ ] Yandere!Emalf HCs; (+ nsfw.)

: - : - : - : - : - : - :

» Emalf is a mixed baggage of obsessive, selfish - and to a somewhat milder degree - a sadistic yandere. This demon is really the dictionary definition of ‘persistent’ - his arrogance knows no bounds, you can ignore him and reject his advances all you want, he’ll just believe you’re playing hard to get. The more you keep at it, the likely is he to resort to threats of making sure you won’t be trying to run from him. His patience doesn’t run infinite, and he'll be more than just a bit brutal if he feels like it.

» Emalf is heavily dependent on your attention and affections, and he’s not exactly subtle about his intentions either; waiting for any opportunity he can come on to you when he’s sure there won’t be anyone to interrupt the two of you... and even if there was, he’ll wedge himself in the conversation between you and whoever is tryina' take his girl/guy's attention from him.

» Yeah, he acts like you're already dating, even when you're not.

» If he suspects anyone of trying to get a little too 'friendly' for his liking, or if someone's openly flirting with you "without any effin' shame", he’ll interrupt the little ‘chitchat’ between the two of you, just to sneak an arm between your waist and pull you closer to him a—telltale sign of making it clear you've got no interest in anyone besides him.

» He has no problem killing people for you - he most definitely will and won't try to hide it either - whether they just pose as nuisance for you - or for the more likely reason - anyone he considers a threat.

» (any remains of them get tossed over for Poemi to play with in one of the cells.)

» Emalf can’t keep himself from running his mouth; he’ll show off to you and brag about his strength, skills, his ultimate familiar, so on and so forth. C'mon, babe, did you see how weak those girls in the gray world were? Took 'em out one-on-four no problem.

» His persistence might wear you down with how enamored he is, yet luck has never been on his side when subject comes to romantic love. The first one ran away from the flame underworld to devil-knows-where whom he hasn't heard from since, the second one completely blew him off and then beat him up with her friends.

» ‘You know how the sayin' goes... third time’s the charm, eh?’ he thinks to himself with a dose of self-deprecating irony - except he doesn’t plan on doing much waiting around for something to happen this time. His capability for unrestrained cruelty should not be overlooked – he’s not afraid to get rough even if it’s someone he has an infatuation with.

» He wants you to like him back like he does, but even if you don't, he won't let you go. Once he finally has you (in his clutches), the obsessive tendencies ramp up and he becomes even worse than before. There's nothing holding him back from doing what he wants to you then.

⌜nsfw.⌟

» Emalf is rough and won't hold back with you—when you're pulled into his bed and he has his way with you, you’ll always be waking up the following day with mild bruises, bites, and scratches that draw blood. It’s his preferred way of permanently marking you as his. It’s usually worse when he's taking you away from whatever task you were busy with before, simply because he can’t contain his horny moods.

» He's not as kinky as you might have expected, he just has a really high sex drive, but he's willing to try just about anything at least once if you ask for it (he probably has a mild daddy/DDLG kink though, likely the only slightly freaky thing he's into).

» Fingering might not be a good idea, with how scaly and rough his hands are... unless you're into a little bit of pain on the receiving end. No matter how rough he is, he still has enough restraint to at least make sure you're okay afterwards.

» Remember Emalf being unable to keep his mouth shut? Yeah, it also applies when you're having sex.

» If he has no duties to attend to, or orders to fulfill, he will drag you back into his room at any possible opportunity—his stamina is almost never-ending; he can go for hours on end, at least once a day.

» He's normally the dominant one, but he does sometimes like the sight of you on top of him—he's into orgasm denial as well, both receiving and giving.

» The Flame Underworld may be humid all year around, but that doesn't mean he won't want to cuddle up together afterwards (he's needy as all hell, but you already know that), most of the time he'll just have you slumped on top of him, or him resting his head on your chest.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Like My Father: Part 11

A/N: Violence and a few triggering topics/conversation in the second half

“I haven’t spent much time in here.” You observed, trailing your fingertips along the edge of the storage cabinet along the far wall, the rows of books stacked neatly on dark shelves had spines illuminated with silver or gold letters.

Across from the shelves and the storage cabinet were two matching love seats made of soft white leather and dark cotton throw pillows that had been set against the puckered armrests. There was a single folded blanket that had been set in the middle of the couch on the left, the flannel pattern a clashing distinction from the rest of the room.

The desk was stationed near the back of the room, and there were matching storage cabinets behind the desk that matched the dark wood aesthetic.

In the open-faced cabinets were some files that had been set in clear bins, a few framed degrees and other legal forms that would aid Andy and the ‘family’ in general. On the desk was a closed laptop with a phone to the right, the device was connected to the landline and security system that was still used throughout the house.

“Your father did his best to protect you from this world.” Andy had closed the door behind you both, his footsteps muffled on the area rug that sat below the couches and met the edge of the door.

When he had stepped off the area rug onto the hardwood, you had winced softly at the sound that hit your ears with grating irritation. Despite the coffee and the pastry that you had eaten, you were still dealing with the lingering aftereffects of the drugging, and it was affecting you almost as if you were suffering a hangover.

“If he wanted to protect me from this world, then why did he give it to me?” You turned slowly and settled your gaze upon Andy, watching him attempt to keep the noise down as he pulled the rolling leather chair out from under the desk to sit on the cushion.

Even as he had lifted the laptop and began to type on the device, giving whatever credentials he needed to have access, he tried to be quiet. You watched him focus, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pursed with all the telltale signs of a man who was concentrating on the task at hand like the seasoned lawyer he was.

“Andy,” you stepped forward, drawing yourself nearer to the desk, “do you think my dad made a mistake? Do you think he should have just…married me off?”

Andy had raised his head and looked at you with the same furrowed brows and pursed lips, only instead of being focused and concentrating, he had appeared confused. He leaned forward and rest his elbows on the desk with his fingers intertwined and resting under his chin, he was watching you with intense focus.

He was giving you the entirety of his attention, looking at nothing but you while the facet of emotion in his eyes shifted, and his scent was radiating and pulsating with comfort and ease, he was your alpha and he knew you needed comfort. He was waiting for you to finish, he had every right to cut you off and degrade your worries as an alpha. He could have very well shot you down with an alpha command, one that would have settled in your skin with no chance of ignoring the demand.

He could have overstepped and taken those liberties with you because of the differences in your designations, other alphas had done worse to omegas, and other alphas have demanded more.

“No,” his voice was even and he spoke with unkempt truth.

“Honey, your father would have never done that to you. Your father believed that you could do this. He didn’t want to see you married off to someone who would try and tamper your spirit and that fire. He knew that this whole family, this empire, needed an omega. Despite what everyone else may think, despite what they may all believe, you were purposely chosen for this. Your father didn’t want anyone else to do this, he knew that you could and you would be the only one he would ever give this to.”

“And you? And you all?” You questioned them, even if you had already been reassured of everything. You were in charge now, this was your responsibility and if you had failed it would be your failure.

“We’re all here for you.” Andy had tucked his chin into his chest and drew in a soft breath. “You are ours and we are yours.”

“Everything we do, we do together.”

“If you fail,” Andy had whispered to you, “we all fail. We’re here for you, we’re all here for you.”

You nodded your head and shuffled toward one of the chairs in front of the desk and slowly sat down on the cushioned surface before you tucked your feet under. You had drawn your bottom lip into your mouth and nibbled on your flesh, your eyes captivated by some of the artwork that was on the walls.

There was lingering silence between you two, lingering quietude that had remained comfortable enough for you to be able to focus on the mess in your head and the interior design of the office your father had once loved.

“I don’t understand this, I hate this. This is so stupid.” Your frustration had come out as a huff, and the book in your hands was tossed to the couch.

“You’re not trying.” Ari had gently scolded you from behind the desk, his gaze flickering from the computer to you and your position halfway off the couch.

“I don’t want to try, Ari. I don’t want to try. I want to forget this and get ice cream.” You turned your head and blew out a puff of air, annoyed while rolling your eyes when he laughed and shook your head.

“Nice try, finish your homework.”

“Blowhard.” You muttered under your breath and pushed yourself back on the couch, flopping down on the cushions and then you reached under your back and removed the book from where it was trapped.

“You can have ice cream when you’re done.” Ari had relayed the hopefulness when you had opened the book and held it above your face, however, you were far less interested in reading as you were pressing him for a few ins and outs of the business.

Before you could even open your mouth to speak, the office door had flown open with a large crash and a man was dropped to the carpet uncouthly. Ari immediately stood and walked around the front of the desk, tension in his shoulders and back as he moved toward the door.

“Get him the fuck out of here.” Ari had hissed, standing between you and the man laying on the carpet, blocking you from seeing what was going on while his scent and the prowess of his designation had kept you frozen in place.

“Ari-“

“Now!” He growled and shoved one of your father’s men back, only briefly glancing over his shoulder toward you and then he looked away. “Get him the fuck out of here, now.”

The limp man was lifted from the floor and the door was slammed with a solid thud that rattled a few pictures on the wall. Stunned silence had fallen between you two, your mouth opened and closed a few times as you fought for any words to become vocalized. There was so much you wanted to know and ask, so much you wanted to dive into but no words would form on your tongue.

At least, not until Ari had turned and ran his fingers through his hair. “You wanna skip this and get ice cream?”

“Uhh…yeah. Yeah.” You snapped the book shut and discarded it, quick to stand and shuffle toward him.

“Good, get your things.”

Brick and mortar were the perfect substance to act as the grater for skin and bone. It was a single strike that had him sent flying into the rough surface, and the cry that followed hit their ears. Neither one was apologetic, neither one had any qualms about spilling blood and cutting flesh, not when they had questions that needed to be answered.

“You have two minutes.”

“I don’t know! I don’t know! I don’t-“ Their target had cried in protest, pleading with them despite being one of the men on shift when the bottles had been filled and corked.

The local brewery and winery had been a favourite of their guests, and until now it had been without fail. Until the moment someone had slipped roofies into the bottles before they were corked, there was never a doubt for the local favourite.

“You were here, you knew something.”

“There are cameras! Check the cameras!” He squealed and drew in a sharp breath when Ari lifted him from the ground and held him against the wall.

Ari had looked back at Nick as he began unsheathing one of his favourite knives, the glint of the metal surface reflecting the sun’s rays.

“We already checked the cameras and they were found faulty. Now, you were on shift and everyone you work with has thrown you under the bus. You can either tell us who gave you the brilliant idea or Nick will start cutting nonessential pieces off of you.”

“I’m starting with his dick, he doesn’t need it.” Nick had stepped toward the target and turned the knife in his hands, allowing the decrepit man to visually see the weapon that was going to be used on him.

“He’s losing patience, now-“

“I don’t know! I don’t know his name! Please, fuck-!” He whimpered in Ari’s tight hold, his feet dangling above the ground as the inability to breathe had become stronger when Ari tightened his hand around his throat.

“I got a message, a text asking if I want to make some money. I was told to spike the drink and send it to the party, I didn’t know-“

“He’s lying, you’re lying. You better start telling the truth or you’ll find yourself missing an invaluable piece.” Nick had stood on the other side of Ari, his fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of the knife.

“I can usually make it easy on a person but for you-“ Nick glinted, he had tilted his head and cast his darkening blue eyes upon the quaking prick.

“I’m telling the truth! I swear! I have the message, I have-“ he shook in Ari’s hands, quaking and whining as he begged for release.

“The message is gone.” Ari’s fingers flexed, and his hand tightened as the man attempted to claw and strike at him.

“It was an alpha!” His hands loosened on his body, his mouth parted as he hastily sucked in air. “AN ALPHA!”

“What alpha?” Nick’s jaw clenched, the veins in his neck protruding as a settled force of rage was starting to course in his body. “What fucking alpha?”

“O-one who was b-betting on having your bitch-“

“Cut out his tongue.” Ari dropped the quim to the ground, allowing Nick to step forward and press the blade of the knife against his lips.

“You should mind how you speak to her. She has a lot of power at her fingertips.”

“I-its not m-me. It’s his words.” He raised his hands in protest, begging Nick and Ari for mercy. “He called her a bitch. He said that he was expecting to bed the bitch and inherit it all.”

“Cut off his dick and his tongue.” Ari’s clear and crisp voice heralded his calm fury. He was pissed beyond all measure but he was controlled, his anger was bedded down under great restraint.

“I told you everything! I told you everything I know!” He pleaded with Nick, his voice getting muffled when a dirty rag was shoved into his mouth.

“Keep your hands still, I don’t want you dying from this.” Nick placed his foot on the target’s chest and cut away the fabric of his jeans, exposing his withering dick to the open air.

“You know,” Nick raised his head and locked eyes with their prey, “we’re not just doing this for our boss. We know things about you, a lot of dirty details that your rich daddy had covered up.”

“You like them young, don’t you?” Ari spat at him, disgusted and vigorously pissed off at the sick man trapped against the ground. “You need to learn how not to fuck with vulnerable people.”

His cries came as Nick pressed the tip of the knife against the poor bastard’s flesh, drawing a few pebbles of blood.

“Trust me, this is good for everyone.” Nick pressed harder, he worked the blade over and over like he intended while their target thrashed and screamed into the cloth.

Nick had stood back once his first task was done, cutting off the ill-gotten member and wrapping it in a cloth. He had stared down at the weeping target, Nick’s lips stretching into a smirk before he whistled for Ari.

“You need to be marked, you need to wear your charges so everyone knows.” Nick grabbed his right arm and lifted it while Ari helped him hold the bastard down.

He pressed the knife to flesh again and carved out the disgusting and revolting word into his forearm, marking him permanently with the engrained and damning charge.

“Now everyone will know what a piece of shit you are.” Nick wiped the blood off the knife and spat it on their victim’s body. “You disgusting fucking pedophile.”

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[biggirllifestyle]

Lost Charms

Summary: Prince Charming isn't as charming as you had thought him to be.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC

Words: 1k+

Warnings: Steve Rogers is a huge asshole, Angst.

A/N: I've been out of the game for a while but I can't believe I wrote the kind of like angst, also this is kind of a blurb for a bigger plot that I haven't decided if I'm actually gonna write so hopefully it works out.

Part 1. | Part 2.

Steve stood next to you his hand laced in yours as you buzzed up to your roommate, you could have easily opened to door with your keys but buzzing up was a telltale sign for each other that you had arrived safely. It only took a few seconds before you were buzzed in, Steve's hand was still holding on as he followed you inside he made no indication that he was waiting on you to invite him up and you felt yourself grow warm at how different he was from the other guys you've ever dated. 

“I’m really glad you agreed to go out with me tonight,” Steve said his smile was soft and he seemed to take a step closer his thumb grazing over your knuckles, “I think this has been the most fun I've had in such a long time, I feel like this was the first time I was able to be myself.” 

He leaned forward until he was practically towering over you his hand reached up to caress your cheek, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you stared up into his eyes and you couldn't help but melt at how blue they were with just a hint of brown in them. Just as you were about to lean in to kiss him the ding of the elevator broke your trance, you stepped away from him looking back to see who had interrupted your moment. What you hadn't expected was Kate an enraged look across her face, a stony-faced Yelena just a few steps behind her, the moment you were within Kate's reach she yanked you away from Steve as she shoved you behind her. Yelena caught you as you stumbled, you were shocked by her attitude so different from earlier today before you could even ask what was wrong Kate shoved her phone into Steves's face. 

“What is this?” She hissed out, her words covered in venom that even made you flinch you've only heard Kate use that tone with one other person and that was her mother, so for Kate to be reacting this way whatever was being displayed on her phone must have been serious. 

You glanced up to gauge Steve’s reaction but his expression was closed off nothing that gave away that he was affected by what he was being accused of. Kate was still tense her hand shaking where she was gripping her phone tightly her knuckles pale white. She repeated herself her voice much firmer than before and you couldn't help the way panic began to bubble up deep within your belly as you imagined the worse. 

“Kate, what's going on?” You tried to hold her hand but it was like it had been super-glued to her side, “You're scaring me.”

That seemed to have done it, as she finally glanced back at you she sucked in a deep breath her gaze snapped back at Steve her glare full of hatred. Yelena had not made any move to get involved which was a little alarming because most times she was first in taking the lead when confronting someone and looking back at her you could see that her gaze was sharp as she stared at the situation. Kate moved to hand you her phone when Steve’s hand shot up to stop her, an intense stare-off commenced until she ripped her hand away with a snarl, handing you her phone where a convo was displaced. 

The moment you made sense of what was being said you couldn't help but feel sick, displayed on Kates's phone was a group chat consisting of messages from Steve and his friends as they made a bet on who could ask out the ugliest of woman. Bile rose in your throat as you got to the part where Steve declared victory after you had agreed to go on a date with him as he stated his reasons on why you were the ugliest of them all and apparently they had no shame on nicknaming you, Ms. Piggy. 

You felt like your lungs were about to constrict as your vision wavered, you looked up at Steve who was now sporting a look of distress.

 “I can explain,” He choked out, “Please let me explain.”

You scoffed, tears were threatening to spill and you felt like you were seconds away from passing out but you choked out your next worst with as much venom as you could muster. 

“I don’t need an explanation from you, it's very clear that this was just a cruel stunt you and your buddies wanted a big laugh about. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but I want you to stay as far as possible away from me,” 

Steve looked hurt by your words and you couldn't help the flare of rage at his reaction when your whole world felt like it was falling apart. You turned away your body feeling overstimulated as the last few moments kept replaying, Kate had already cached up with Yelena throwing furtive glances to make sure you were still following. You knew you shouldn’t, you knew you should fight it, but you glanced back at Steve who was still staring after you with a heartbroken look plastered across his face, you paused before entering the elevator and hesitated a few moments. You hesitated before turning back to face him a flicker of courage emerged, at this point, it was too late for you to hide your tear-streaked face from him but you didnt care. 

“You know for a second I really did think that you were nothing like the villain people painted you out to be,” You paused swallowing the lump that was forming. “ But it seems that I was wrong.” 

Steve let out a few tears at your words stepping forward with a hand extended towards you. 

“Please!” He pleaded. 

You turned away from him, and as the elevator door closed behind you his footsteps echoed as he ran towards you until you finally he was shut out.