#like i couldn’t stop other than like small intervals

[just-jammin]

i think there’s like a quarter of whatever was inside left—

gonna eat some Shapes

they taste nice! :D

[lanadelspray02]

HOLD ME ANYWAYS: CHAPTER 10

paige x azzi

Hey guys! Enjoy this chapter. I have a feeling y'all are going to love it. Let me know your thoughts :) Also, thank you for showing so much love on the last chapter, I truly appreciate it <3

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

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The arcade lights faded behind them like a distant echo, swallowed by the dark as Paige pulled out of the parking lot. The road ahead stretched long and quiet, streetlamps flickering in rhythmic intervals like they were trying to keep time for a heartbeat that had gone too fast for too long.

Neither of them spoke.

Azzi sat curled in the passenger seat, her forehead lightly against the window, breath fogging the glass in small, uneven bursts. The unicorn plush was tucked in her lap, arms wrapped around it like she didn’t quite know where else to put her hands. Her other hand rested near her mouth — not touching, not biting, but hovering. Like she might say something. Like she might unravel.

Paige gripped the wheel with both hands, her knuckles pale. Every few seconds, she risked a glance sideways. At Azzi’s profile. At the tension in her shoulders. At the silence that had spilled between them like something sacred and broken all at once.

She wanted to speak — God, she wanted to say anything. To ask if she was okay. To say she was sorry, even though she didn’t know what for.

But the truth clung to the air between them like smoke: if she said the wrong thing now, it might ruin everything.

So instead, she turned the music down and drove slower than usual.

The windows were cracked just slightly, letting the cool night air drift in — soft and steady. Her playlist had looped back to the beginning without her noticing. Some low, instrumental R&B track hummed faintly through the speakers — no words, just rhythm. Just feeling.

Azzi shifted a little in her seat, not looking over. “You don’t have to drive so slow.”

Paige’s voice came out quieter than she meant it to. “I didn’t want to rush.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away. Then, softly, “Thanks.”

The word landed between them like a fragile glass.

Paige nodded once, though she wasn’t sure Azzi saw it. Her heart was a mess — too loud, too raw, like it couldn’t decide if it was proud of how gently she was handling this or terrified it still wouldn’t be enough.

She wanted to rewind to the photo booth. To freeze the moment where Azzi had leaned in — eyes soft, breath held, heart wide open — and hold it like proof that it had been real. That it had meant something.

But she also couldn’t forget the look on Azzi’s face when she’d pulled back.

The fear.

The heartbreak.

Like she’d remembered something all at once that made it impossible to stay.

Paige swallowed hard and turned onto Azzi’s street.

The driveway came into view faster than either of them expected.

She slowed to a stop at the curb. Let the engine idle.

Azzi reached for the door handle, then paused.

“I’m sorry,” she said, so quietly Paige almost missed it.

Paige’s fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “For what?”

“For… leaving. Running. I didn’t mean to.”

Paige looked over, their eyes meeting in the soft golden wash of the porch light through the window.

“You don’t have to explain,” Paige said, even though every nerve in her body ached to know. “Not now.”

Azzi blinked. Her jaw moved like she was holding something back.

Then she opened the door.

The cold night air rushed in around them.

She stepped out, the unicorn still clutched tightly in one arm. The door closed softly behind her, and Paige watched as she walked up to the front step.

She turned back just before reaching the door. Rested her hand on it. Eyes lifted to meet Paige’s one last time.

“I’ll text you when I’m in.”

Paige nodded. “Okay.”

The door opened.

Then closed.

And just like that, Azzi was gone.

Paige sat there for a long moment, hands still on the wheel, heart still in her throat.

Then, with a quiet breath, she pulled away.

She didn’t cry.

But something in her chest cracked anyway.

Azzi stepped into the house as quietly as she could, easing the door shut behind her until the latch clicked softly into place. The hallway light was off, but the warm flicker of the TV spilled into the entrance from the living room — soft and golden, like a candle left burning through the night.

Voices — familiar, animated — drifted into the air.

She slipped off her sneakers by the door and padded forward in her socks. The ache in her chest hadn’t gone away. If anything, it had only sharpened. But the moment she turned the corner and saw them all curled on the couch, something in her body exhaled.

Katie, Tim, and Ruby were bundled together under a huge crocheted blanket — the kind Katie had made years ago during a nesting phase that came right after Azzi had given birth. Toy Story was playing on low volume, Woody’s voice floating through the room in bursts. Tim had one arm around Katie, the other lazily scratching Ruby’s back, while Katie’s fingers were threaded through Ruby’s curls in slow, sleepy loops.

Ruby was half-asleep, head tucked under Katie’s chin, bunny tucked tight under one arm.

Azzi paused in the doorway, the arcade-won unicorn plush still clutched in her hands — the one Paige had refused to give up on until she’d won it. She held it now with quiet reverence, the weight of what it meant pressing into her palms.

Katie looked up first, her eyes catching Azzi’s in the glow of the screen. She didn’t speak. Just smiled gently and nodded toward the hallway — the silent signal: she’s almost out. You’ve got bedtime.

Azzi nodded back, then stepped forward, crouching beside the couch.

Ruby blinked awake, her eyes heavy but clear. “Mama…”

“Hey, baby,” Azzi said softly. “Time for bed.”

Ruby made a noise of protest but didn’t fight it. She was too tired. She let Azzi scoop her up — blanket and all — arms looping around her neck like a habit.

Katie stood and handed her the bunny, tucking the blanket back over her shoulders.

Azzi followed the familiar path down the hall and into Ruby’s room, lit only by the soft glow of the unicorn nightlight in the corner.

Ruby murmured something incoherent as she curled back into her pillows, already drifting.

Azzi tucked her in gently, pressing a kiss to her forehead before stepping back — and then paused, remembering.

She turned, reached for the unicorn plush still tucked under her arm, and brought it to Ruby’s bed.

“Hey,” she said, teasing softly. “So… I may have brought home a prize. But it was technically mine.”

Ruby blinked one eye open, then both. “What is it?”

Azzi held the plush up by its glittery horn. “A unicorn. Won fair and square.”

Ruby’s whole face lit up — sleepy, delighted. “For me?”

“I said it was mine.”

Ruby pouted immediately.

Azzi sighed dramatically. “I guess you can borrow it.”

She laid the unicorn beside her daughter, tucking it gently against her chest. Ruby’s arms closed around it without hesitation.

“You win it?” she asked.

Azzi smiled faintly. “Nope.”

Ruby looked up at her, head tilting. “Then who?”

Azzi hesitated — just a moment — and then said softly, “A friend. Her name’s Paige.”

Ruby yawned, settling in again. "The smiley one right?”

Azzi’s chest tugged. “Yeah. The smiley one”

“Mmmkay,” Ruby mumbled, and then she was out — unicorn cuddled tight under her chin like it had always been there.

Azzi sat beside the bed for another minute, brushing a few curls from her daughter’s cheek. She watched her sleep. Watched the rise and fall of her tiny chest. Let the stillness press into her, grounding and heavy.

Then she rose quietly, slipped from the room, and closed the door halfway behind her.

She walked the length of the hallway in a fog, her mind nowhere and everywhere at once. The arcade. The laugh. The look in Paige’s eyes.

The photo booth.

The countdown on the screen.

The warmth of Paige’s leg pressed against hers.

The look — the way Paige looked at her, like she was something to be reached for, not figured out.

Azzi had leaned in.

Paige didn’t pull away.

Their noses almost touched.

And just when Azzi thought she could do it — could leap off the edge and maybe be caught —

That old voice in her head screamed:

She doesn’t know about Ruby. She doesn’t know who you really are.

Don’t let her kiss someone who doesn’t know. Its not fair on her.

So she pulled back.

Too fast.

Too scared.

Azzi sat on the edge of her bed, the plush lavender elephant Ruby had given her hours earlier still lying there. She stared at it, unmoving, her pulse thrumming against her ribs like a warning.

She hadn’t cried in months. But tonight, her chest split open — not with sobs, but something quieter. Something lonelier.

The kind of ache that came with letting someone get close — only to run when it mattered most.

She rubbed her eyes with the bottom of her crop top, then stood abruptly and walked back to the living room, barefoot and unsteady.

The TV had gone dark, credits long since finished. But Katie and Tim were still sitting on the couch with lukewarm tea and the kind of quiet that only comes after waiting.

Katie didn’t even flinch when Azzi stepped back into the room.

“You ran again, didn’t you?”

Azzi sank into the armchair with a heavy breath. “Is it that obvious?”

Tim lifted an eyebrow. “You came in looking like someone unplugged your soul"

Katie gave him a warning look, but didn’t argue.

“I didn’t mean to,” she said finally. “I just… panicked. It felt real.”

Katie leaned forward, her voice gentle but firm. “It is real.”

There was a long pause.

Then Azzi whispered, “Her name’s Paige.”

Tim gave a little nod like he’d guessed it already. “Basketball?”

Azzi gave a faint laugh. “Yeah.”

Katie’s brows lifted slightly. “So… this Paige. She the one who got you that unicorn thing?”

Azzi nodded. “She basically emptied her wallet trying to win it.”

Tim smirked. “Bold move.”

Katie’s expression softened. “You like her.”

Azzi looked down with a smile “I really do.”

“So what happened?” Katie asked, scooting forward a little.

Azzi closed her eyes. “I almost kissed her. I wanted to kiss her. But then I remembered she doesn’t know. About Ruby. About… all of it. And I just—ran. Again. It wasn't fair to her.”

“You were scared,” Katie said.

Azzi nodded.

“And you’re allowed to be scared,” she continued. “But fear can’t be the one driving this.”

Tim leaned back, arms folded. “I mean, worst case scenario, she sucks. But best case? She’s exactly what you need.”

Azzi’s voice was small. “What if I tell her everything and she doesn’t want that kind of life?”

Katie met her eyes and didn’t blink. “Then she’s not the one. But sweetheart… I have a feeling you wouldn’t be sitting here if you didn’t already know deep down that maybe she is.”

Azzi blinked back another sting of tears. “She makes me feel… like I can breathe. Like I’m not just surviving. But I don’t want to let her love a version of me that isn’t whole.”

Katie reached out and squeezed her hand. “Then let her see the whole thing.”

There was a long silence.

Then Azzi whispered, “I think I’m ready. I have to be ready.”

Tim smiled gently. “About time.”

Katie leaned over and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “We’re proud of you, you know that?”

Azzi nodded, throat tight.

And for the first time in a long while, she felt something else underneath the fear.

A little flicker of peace.

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

The door clicked softly behind Paige as she stepped back into her dorm, the hallway light flickering overhead before finally stabilizing. She didn’t bother turning on the overhead light — just toed off her sneakers, dropped her bag next to the wall, and let the shadows wrap around her.

Her limbs felt too heavy to move. Her chest, too tight to breathe properly.

Azzi hadn’t kissed her.

Paige kept replaying that moment like it was a video she couldn’t stop rewinding. The angle of Azzi’s body, the look in her eyes, the way her breath had trembled in the stillness between them.

The way she’d almost leaned in.

And then didn’t.

Paige stood frozen in the middle of the room, her keys still in one hand, the other curled loosely at her side. The hoodie Azzi had returned earlier was folded neatly on her desk chair. Paige hadn’t touched it since she got home. Couldn’t. Not yet.

A breath shuddered out of her.

She walked over, dropped her keys into the small ceramic bowl Nika had made for her at some half-forgotten team bonding event, then sat heavily on the edge of her bed.

For a moment, she just stared at the floor.

And then, without really meaning to, she reached into her pocket.

Her fingers closed around the photo booth strip like it had been waiting for her — smooth, slightly crinkled at the edges. She pulled it out and held it up to the soft glow of her desk lamp.

First photo: goofy faces. Azzi’s nose scrunched up, Paige’s tongue out.

Second: smiling, close. Natural.

Third: Paige mid-turn, caught looking.

Fourth—

Her breath caught.

That frame.

Azzi looking at her. Inches away. Lips parted. Paige could still feel the weight of the almost-kiss hanging between them.

She traced the edge of the photo with her thumb, then leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

“What are you doing?” she whispered to herself.

She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or throw something just to feel something else. But all she could do was sit there, feeling like she’d been left on the edge of something she didn’t know how to name.

The room felt too quiet. Too still.

So she grabbed her phone and opened her texts.

Nothing.

She checked her notifications.

Still nothing.

She clicked into Azzi’s thread anyway. Scrolled up, rereading the messages she’d sent before.

Maybe Azzi didn’t—

Her phone buzzed.

Paige jumped like it had shocked her.

Azzi:

made it home. thanks again for tonight

Paige stared at the message for a long time.

It wasn’t a paragraph. It wasn’t a confession. But it was something. Azzi had texted her. She had said thank you.

She was still here.

Paige’s thumb hovered over the keyboard.

She typed:

I meant what I said in the car.

Paused.

Deleted it.

Tried:

You’re welcome. You were amazing tonight.

Deleted.

Started again:

You looked really happy tonight. I liked that.

Backspaced.

Eventually, she just sent:

Glad you made it inside okay. Sleep well.

It felt like a lie. A safe lie. But she couldn’t do anything else right now — not when the air still felt charged with all the things they hadn’t said.

She set the phone down, face-down again, and sat back.

The room swallowed her in silence.

A minute later, the door creaked open.

Nika.

She poked her head in, towel around her neck, clearly fresh from a night shower. “You look like a kicked puppy.”

Paige didn’t answer.

Nika slipped inside fully and sat cross-legged on her bed without asking. “So…?”

“So nothing,” Paige muttered. “It was good. Then it was… weird.”

“Weird how?”

Paige didn’t answer right away. She reached for one of the photo booth strips on her desk and handed it to Nika.

Nika scanned the photos — the smiles, the closeness, the unfinished moment.

Then she looked up slowly. “Oh.”

Paige leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “She pulled back.”

Nika frowned. “After that?”

Paige nodded.

“She say anything?”

“Nope. Just left.”

Nika handed the photos back, her voice gentler now. “You okay?”

“I don’t know,” Paige admitted. “I keep thinking… maybe I shouldn’t have leaned in. Maybe I misread everything.”

“Or maybe she’s scared,” Nika said. “She looked scared the first month she got here. But she also looked at you like you were the only thing in the room, every time.”

Paige didn’t speak. Just nodded, quietly.

Nika stood, stretching. “Don’t spiral too deep, Bueckers. Maybe give it a minute.”

“I gave it a minute,” Paige said. “I gave it all night.”

Nika paused at the door. “Then give it a day.”

When she left, Paige stood, walked into the bathroom, and turned on the shower without waiting for the water to warm. She stripped out of her clothes robotically and stepped in, letting the steam fog the mirror and blur everything.

She stood under the spray, unmoving, her forehead resting against the cool tile.

The water was too hot.

But she didn’t turn it down.

When she stepped out, skin pink and towel clutched tight around her chest, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Her eyes were red.

She didn’t know if it was from the water or everything else.

She dried off slowly, threw on an oversized tee and boxers, then climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

Her phone sat on her nightstand.

No new notifications.

She left it there.

Turned off the light.

Let the dark come in.

And for the first time in a long time, she whispered to herself something she didn’t want to believe:

“I think I’m falling for her. Like for real falling.”

Then she rolled onto her side and let the silence settle around her.

The photo booth strips remaining on her desk.

That last photo still staring up at the ceiling.

Still waiting to become something more.

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

Azzi woke slowly to the tickle of something fuzzy beneath her chin and the familiar weight of a tiny foot pressed against her thigh.

The sheets were tangled, the air still with sleep, and nestled beside her — all soft curls and steady breaths — was Ruby.

The unicorn plush rested on Ruby’s belly like a loyal companion, its glittery horn crooked slightly, battle-worn from bedtime adventures. One of Ruby’s arms was flopped across Azzi’s middle, the other hugged the stuffed toy tight against her chest, as if it might disappear if she let go.

Azzi smiled to herself and let her eyes close for another moment.

Then: “Mama?”

Azzi cracked one eye open. “Hmm?”

Ruby tilted her head up, curls wild from sleep. “Where did the unicorn come from?”

Azzi smirked. “You don’t remember me sneaking in last night and slipping it under your arm like a fairy godmother?”

Ruby frowned. “No.”

“Well, maybe it magically appeared,” Azzi said, voice low and teasing. “You do have excellent toy karma.”

Ruby sat up slowly, still holding the unicorn. “Who gave it you?”

Azzi stretched a little, yawning. “Someone very determined. She tried, like, twelve times to get it out of the claw machine.”

Ruby’s eyes widened. “Twelve?!”

“At least,” Azzi said with mock seriousness. “She was very committed to winning it. Almost lost her mind when the claw dropped it on the eleventh try.”

Ruby giggled, curling closer. “Was mad?”

Azzi shook her head. “No, just dramatic. But she finally won it.”

Ruby hugged the unicorn close and grinned. “She must really like you.”

Azzi went quiet for a second, her smile lingering. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Maybe.”

Ruby looked at her for a long moment, then rested her chin on the unicorn’s glittery head.

“She made you smile,” she said simply.

Azzi blinked. “What?”

Ruby gave a little shrug. “You’re smilin’ right now.”

Azzi glanced away, caught, but her smile only grew.

“she your friend?” Ruby asked, curious again.

Azzi nodded slowly. “Yeah. Her name’s Paige.”

Ruby seemed to consider that for a moment, then whispered, “She got nice name.”

Azzi laughed under her breath and brushed Ruby’s curls back from her forehead. “Yeah, she does.”

They lay there like that for a minute longer — just quiet, wrapped in soft light and small truths — before Azzi sighed and gently shifted out of bed.

“Go back to sleep, Roo,” she murmured, kissing her cheek.

Ruby snuggled deeper into the pillow, unicorn still clutched tight, her voice already fading as she mumbled, “Tell her thank you… for the corn…”

Azzi paused in the doorway and whispered, “It’s called a unicorn.”

But Ruby was already asleep again.

She padded down the hall in her socks, the soft hush of old wood beneath her feet grounding her with each step.

The kitchen was already humming with quiet life. Tim was standing at the counter whisking pancake batter, Katie seated on the lounge nearby with the newspaper folded in her lap and her reading glasses perched halfway down her nose.

Azzi hovered in the doorway for a second, unsure.

Katie looked up first. “You look like you’ve been thinking all night.”

Azzi huffed softly. “I barely slept.”

Tim glanced over, pausing mid-whisk. “You want coffee or tea?”

“Tea, please.”

She moved into the kitchen slowly and slid onto the barstool at the counter, hoodie sleeves pulled over her palms, heart heavy with everything she hadn’t said last night — everything she still didn’t know how to say now.

Katie set the paper aside and joined them at the table, her gaze gentle but watchful.

Azzi finally spoke.

“I think I need to tell her today.”

“Paige?” Katie asked softly.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah.”

Tim set the whisk down and leaned on the counter, giving her his full attention.

“I don’t know how,” Azzi said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve run from this conversation every time I got close. I almost told her last night. We were in the photo booth, and she looked at me like… like she could see the whole truth and still wanted me anyway.”

She swallowed hard.

“But then I panicked. Again. Like you already know”

Katie didn’t say anything. She just waited.

“I keep thinking,” Azzi went on, “how do I even start that conversation? ‘Hey, by the way, I have a two-year-old. Surprise!’ Like how do you say something like that without completely changing everything?”

Tim poured her tea and set it gently in front of her. “You just say it,” he said. “Because if she’s worth your time, she’ll listen.”

Azzi stared down at the steam curling from the mug.

“It’s not just about Ruby being part of my life,” she said slowly. “It’s about what that means.”

Katie nodded once, inviting her to keep going.

“It’s… the diapers, the schedule, the lack of sleep. It’s the mornings where I can’t go to class because Ruby’s sick or daycare’s closed. It’s bedtime songs and tantrums and needing to make every decision like someone else’s entire world depends on it.”

Her voice trembled a little, but she didn’t stop.

“It’s the fact that I can’t just be someone’s girlfriend in the way people our age usually are. It’s not movie nights and road trips and waking up late. It’s bath time and night lights and packing snack bags for the week.”

She exhaled, long and heavy.

“I don’t know if Paige is ready for that. If she even wants that. I don’t even know if I’m ready to ask her to be ready.”

Katie reached over and squeezed her wrist gently. “You’re not asking her to become a parent overnight. You’re asking her to see you — the whole you. That includes Ruby.”

Azzi blinked fast, trying not to cry.

“And if she can’t handle it,” Tim added gently, “then better to know now than later.”

“I’m just scared,” Azzi admitted. “Not because I think she’s cruel or selfish — she’s not. She’s so not. But because I like her. So much. And I’ve never brought anyone into this part of my life before.”

She looked between both her parents. “Not since… you know.”

They both nodded. The air thickened briefly, but not painfully.

Katie leaned forward. “Azzi. You’ve built something beautiful here. With us. With Ruby. You don’t have to apologize for protecting it.”

“But you also don’t have to hide it,” Tim added.

Azzi sat still for a moment, the warmth of their words settling into the quiet ache in her chest.

She wrapped her hands around her mug and let the silence breathe.

Then, finally: “Will you guys look after her for a couple hours?”

Katie smiled. “Of course.”

“She still asleep?” Tim asked.

Azzi nodded. “Yeah. But when she wakes up, she’s going to ask about her unicorn. And probably demand pancakes.”

“We’re ready,” Katie said.

Azzi stood slowly, then crossed to hug each of them — first her mum, then her dad, resting her chin against his shoulder longer than usual.

She turned back toward the hall, brushing her hands down the front of her hoodie.

No more running.

Today, she’d tell Paige the truth.

Not just about Ruby. But about all of it — the fear, the complexity, the love.

And she’d find out — once and for all — if Paige wanted to step into that world with her.

The knock came at 10:03 a.m.

Paige hadn’t expected anyone. She was still in her sleep shirt, hair tied up in a lazy half-bun, sitting cross-legged on her bed with her laptop open and untouched. The photo booth strips from the arcade still on her desk — just where she’d left it the night before — but her eyes kept drifting to it like it held more answers than she had questions.

She froze at the sound of the knock.

Not a group chat knock.

Not a Nika-barging-in knock.

Just… a knock. One time. Quiet. Like whoever was on the other side didn’t know if they had the right to be there.

Paige stood slowly, padding across the room, heart already skipping ahead of her brain.

She opened the door.

Azzi was there.

Hair down, cheeks a little flushed from the morning breeze, her hoodie sleeves pulled down over her knuckles like she’d been twisting them the whole walk over. She looked like she hadn’t slept much either.

Paige blinked. “Azzi.”

“I should’ve texted,” Azzi said quickly, quietly. “I just… I didn’t want to give myself time to back out.”

Paige opened the door wider. “Come in.”

Azzi stepped inside without hesitating, and Paige shut the door behind her — slowly, carefully — like any sudden move might send the whole thing shattering.

The room was warm, lit by the pale morning sun spilling through the blinds. Quiet. Still.

Azzi didn’t sit. She just stood near the center, hands in her sleeves, heart beating so loudly she could barely hear herself think.

“I need to tell you something,” she said, voice steady but soft.

Paige nodded once. “Okay.”

Azzi looked at her, really looked at her — the sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder, the nervous way she was tugging at the hem of her shirt, like she didn’t know where to put her hands.

“You remember the unicorn?” Azzi said.

Paige blinked. “Yeah. Of course.”

Azzi gave a half-smile. “It’s already her favorite.”

Paige’s brow furrowed, confused. “Her?”

Azzi took a breath.

“I have a daughter,” she said gently. “Her name’s Ruby. She’s two and a half.”

The silence that followed wasn’t shocked. It wasn’t cold.

It was still.

Like the air itself had paused to listen.

Paige didn’t move.

Azzi kept going.

“She’s mine,” she said, a little quieter now. “All mine. I’ve raised her with my parents’ help. Since high school. I don’t talk about it much. Most people don’t even know unless they’ve met her.”

She paused, breathing carefully.

“And that’s why I’ve been so careful. So slow. So hesitant. Because Ruby isn’t just part of my life. She is my life. And liking you — being around you — it scares me.”

Paige’s eyes hadn’t left her. She didn’t look stunned. Just… focused.

Azzi shifted her weight.

“It’s not just about Ruby,” she said. “It’s about what that means.”

Her voice cracked a little, but she didn’t stop.

“It’s… the diapers, the schedule, the lack of sleep. It’s the fact that I can’t just be someone’s girlfriend in the way people our age usually are. It’s not movie nights and road trips and waking up late. It’s bath time and night lights and packing snack bags for daycare.”

She laughed once — low and self-deprecating.

“I don’t get to be spontaneous. I don’t get to just disappear for a weekend or skip a practice without thinking five steps ahead. I have this little person who depends on me. Who comes first. Every time.”

Another pause.

Azzi looked at her hands. “I should’ve told you sooner. But I was afraid you’d see me differently. That you’d feel like you had to pull away. Or worse, like you had to stay out of obligation.”

Her voice dropped even lower.

“And last night… the photo booth… I wanted to kiss you. God, I almost did. But then I remembered everything I hadn’t told you, and I panicked. Because it felt too real.”

She finally looked up again. Her eyes were glassy.

“I know this is a lot. I don’t expect anything from you. I just… I needed you to know. All of it.”

The silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It was full. Full of breath. Full of truth.

Paige walked forward — slowly, like she was approaching a flame.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at her. Eyes soft. Grounded.

Then, quietly: “You could’ve told me sooner.”

Azzi’s shoulders tensed — just barely.

But then Paige added, gently, “But I’m glad you told me now.”

Azzi blinked.

Paige kept going. “I don’t know everything. I’ve never… I’ve never liked someone who already has a life of loving a person like that. But I want to learn. I want to try. Because I like you, Az. More than I’ve let myself admit.”

Azzi’s throat tightened.

“I don’t need perfect,” Paige said, her voice barely more than a breath. “I just want real. And you — with Ruby, with all of it — that’s real.”

She hesitated for only a second before letting the truth slip out, raw and aching.

“God, I want you so bad.”

Azzi’s lips parted, like she had something to say — like a thousand words were tangled in her throat — but none of them made it out. Her chest rose sharply, then fell, as if the force of wanting Paige back hit too fast to contain.

So Paige moved closer.

Not in a rush, not in a way that asked for anything too soon — just enough to let Azzi know she wasn’t afraid to close the space between them. Just enough to say I’m here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Paige murmured. “Unless you ask me to.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath, her shoulders dropping as if she’d just unclenched something she’d been holding tight for too long. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, then opened again — searching, soft, open.

And then — finally — her hand reached out. Slowly. Tentatively.

Her fingers grazed Paige’s before curling around them, like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to hold on until Paige laced theirs together, grounding them both.

Paige took one more step, closing the last inch of space between them. Close enough for their breaths to mingle. For Paige to feel the heat rolling off Azzi’s skin. For everything unsaid to hang like mist in the air.

“I want to know her,” Paige whispered. “When you’re ready.”

Azzi’s eyes shimmered, lashes wet. She nodded, just once.

“I’m scared,” she confessed, voice catching. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“I know,” Paige said, brushing her thumb gently across Azzi’s knuckles. “Me too. But we’ll learn — together.”

The silence that followed didn’t feel heavy this time. It felt safe.

Like a pause between heartbeats.

Like a promise.

And then, slowly — like she was testing gravity — Azzi leaned in.

Paige met her halfway.

The kiss was quiet.

Unrushed.

Not the kind born of desperation or heat, but of ache — the kind that had bloomed slowly, patiently, through every look and every moment they hadn’t let themselves want this too much.

Azzi’s lips were soft against hers, trembling just slightly. Paige cupped the side of her face, holding her gently like she was something precious. And she was.

When they pulled apart, their foreheads stayed pressed together. Neither of them moved. Neither of them had to.

Azzi smiled, small and unguarded — a crack of sunlight breaking through after a long, grey storm.

Paige tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You smiled again.”

Azzi laughed, breath catching.

“Get used to it,” she whispered.

Azzi didn’t let go of Paige’s hand as they stepped farther into the room.

Her pulse was still wild beneath her skin — not from nerves anymore, but from something deeper. Something fragile and real and almost brand new. And maybe… maybe safe.

Paige gave her a small, wordless smile and nodded toward the far corner of the room. “You can sit wherever,” she said, voice softer now. “Sorry it’s a mess.”

“It’s not,” Azzi replied, even though there was a hoodie on the floor and a half-finished smoothie on the windowsill. “It’s… you.”

That made Paige flush, but she didn’t look away.

Azzi’s eyes wandered as she moved to the edge of the bed — and that’s when she saw them.

Tucked just above Paige’s desk lamp, curled at the corner like it had been handled too many times, was the photo booth strips.

Azzi reached out, hesitating only a second before gently pulling it free.

Four small frames.

The first — chaotic joy. Their ridiculous faces. Azzi with her nose scrunched, Paige’s tongue out.

The second — them leaning close, smiling like they’d forgotten the camera.

The third — Azzi mid-glance, just turning.

The fourth — that moment. Inches apart. Azzi leaning in. Paige waiting.

Azzi swallowed.

“You kept these,” she murmured, fingers trailing the glossy paper.

“Of course I did,” Paige said from behind her, quietly but without hesitation.

Azzi turned.

Paige walked forward and took the strips gently, fingers brushing Azzi’s again. Then, without overthinking it, she hung the strip on the pin board.

She handed Azzi the other one.

“This one’s yours,” she said.

Azzi stared at it, something warm and unruly blooming in her chest. She took it carefully, holding it like it mattered.

Then Paige sat down on the bed beside her, and Azzi followed.

They lay back — slow, quiet — side by side on top of the blankets, shoulders almost touching, eyes fixed on the ceiling like the space up there could hold the weight of this new beginning.

After a few beats, Paige whispered, “Can I ask you something?”

Azzi turned her head slightly, hair brushing the pillow. “Of course.”

“What’s she like? Ruby.”

Azzi smiled — small at first, then brighter as she let the question bloom in her chest. “She’s funny. Loud but shy when she first gets to know someone. Smarter than I ever was. She loves music, but only the chaotic kind. And she makes up words for things she doesn’t know yet. Last week, she called cucumbers ‘green noodles’ and now we’re not allowed to call them anything else.”

Paige let out a soft laugh, and Azzi felt it echo in her ribs.

“And she is obsessed with that unicorn, by the way,” Azzi added, turning her head fully now. “Like, fully obsessed. Slept with it on her chest like it was guarding her dreams. I tried to move it this morning and she acted like I’d just taken away her firstborn.”

Paige blinked, grinning. “Seriously?”

“She made me tell her how you won it,” Azzi said, laughing quietly. “Wanted every detail. I think she thinks you’re, like, some kind of claw machine goddess now.”

Paige pressed the back of her hand over her mouth like she was trying to hold in a laugh. “I mean… I did go twelve rounds for that thing.”

“She respects the grind,” Azzi teased, eyes soft.

“I like her already,” Paige whispered.

Azzi felt something in her chest tighten. Not painfully — just fully. “She’d like you too.”

They lay there in silence for a moment, the kind that wasn’t empty, but full — of what they weren’t saying yet, of what they were slowly beginning to believe.

Then Paige exhaled. “I’m scared.”

Azzi blinked, turning again. Paige was staring at the ceiling, hands folded over her stomach like she was afraid of what might spill out.

“I want to get it right,” she added. “I really, really want to get it right.”

Azzi scooted closer until their shoulders touched. She didn’t speak for a second — just let her presence do the answering. Then she gently nudged her elbow against Paige’s side.

“I don’t expect perfect,” she said. “Not from you. Not from anyone.”

Paige turned her head this time, slow and searching. “But you’ve done it. You’ve raised her. You’ve made a whole world for her.”

Azzi nodded, a little breathless. “Yeah. And I’ve had help. And I’ve made mistakes. And I still don’t know what I’m doing half the time.”

“You make it look like you do,” Paige murmured.

“That’s because I have to,” Azzi said softly. “Because she needs me to. But I mess up. I cry. I freeze. I forget to wash her favorite pajamas and then have to bribe her with rainbow cereal.”

Paige laughed again — a low, warm sound. Her face was still turned toward Azzi’s.

“I just…” she hesitated, then added, “I’ve never had anyone rely on me before. Not like that.”

Azzi’s face softened.

“She wouldn’t expect anything from you,” she said. “Not at first. She’d just be curious. You’d have time.”

“You think she’d like me?” Paige asked, and the vulnerability in her voice cracked Azzi open.

“I know she would,” Azzi said. “You’re kind. You’re patient. You make me laugh when I don’t want to. You went to war with a claw machine just to make a two year old happy, even if you didn't know it yet. That’s… not nothing.”

Paige turned onto her side, slowly, propping her head up on one arm. “You make me want to be someone she could count on. I want to be someone you can count on.”

Azzi mirrored her, rolling onto her side so they faced each other, their knees just barely brushing.

“She doesn’t need perfect,” Azzi said again, voice gentler now. “She just needs someone who shows up. Someone who sees her. The same for me.”

Paige reached out and, without thinking, tucked a loose strand of hair behind Azzi’s ear. Her fingers lingered, brushing gently against Azzi’s cheek like she was memorizing the moment by touch alone.

“I see you,” Paige whispered, voice low, rough with emotion. “And I want to see her too.”

Azzi’s breath caught. Her throat tightened, the weight of those words pressing deep against something tender inside her. She blinked once, slowly, as if to hold back the welling feeling behind her eyes — then looked at Paige.

Really looked.

The space between them buzzed, alive with everything. Paige’s gaze dipped to Azzi’s lips for a fraction of a second too long, then flicked back up. Her breath hitched, almost imperceptibly.

And Azzi leaned in — slowly, carefully — not for a kiss, but like she was being pulled by gravity into the one place that had started to feel safe. Her forehead almost brushed Paige’s, her nose nearly grazing hers, the closeness teasing something electric between them. But at the last second, instead of closing the distance, she tilted sideways and gently let her head rest against Paige’s shoulder.

Paige exhaled. A shaky, quiet release of air like she’d been holding her breath.

She didn’t say anything — just shifted her body ever so slightly and wrapped one arm around Azzi’s back, pulling her closer with the kind of touch that said I’d wait forever if you asked me to.

They stayed like that — curled into each other, quiet, warm, steady.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Azzi didn’t feel like she had to hold it all alone.

For the first time, Paige didn’t feel like she was standing outside someone’s life, hoping to be let in.

They were in it together now — not fully, not perfectly.

But enough.

Enough to begin.

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

It had been quiet for over an hour.

Sunlight spilled through the dorm window, catching on the soft edges of two girls wrapped loosely around each other. Paige’s arm was tucked protectively beneath Azzi’s waist, Azzi’s head resting in the crook of Paige’s shoulder. Their breathing had evened out somewhere between conversation and calm — and sleep had crept in before either of them could stop it.

It was the kind of peace neither of them had realized they’d been craving.

Then—

BANG.

The door flew open like it had something to prove.

“PAIGE. You left your....”

Nika stopped dead.

Mouth open. One foot already in the room. She blinked.

Azzi jolted upright, heart leaping into her throat.

Paige groaned under her breath, arm still tangled around Azzi’s waist. “Nika, what the—?”

Nika’s eyebrows flew somewhere near her hairline. “Oh my God.”

Paige sat up, blinking sleep from her eyes, and shoved her hair back. “Can you knock for once in your life?”

“Can you warn me when your life becomes a rom-com?” Nika replied, full of unrestrained glee. “Am I dreaming? Did I walk into a moment?”

Azzi flushed. She was still half-tangled in the blanket, and her hair had definitely flattened weird on one side. “Hi,” she said awkwardly, giving Nika a small wave.

Nika pointed at her like she’d just found Bigfoot. “You! You were here! Like—here here!”

Paige rubbed her face. “We were sleeping, Nik.”

“Oh, I see that,” Nika said, leaning against the doorframe like she was settling in for a front-row seat. “I just didn’t know we were moving on to ‘falling asleep cuddled and looking soft as hell’ stage.”

Azzi gently pulled away, brushing down her hoodie and smoothing her pants. “I should probably… get going,” she said, voice quiet, eyes darting toward Paige.

Paige looked at her, the change in tone instantly grounding her. “Right. Of course.”

Azzi’s gaze softened as she stood. “I promised I’d be home before lunch. Ruby’s probably driving my parents wild by now.”

There it was — not a full explanation, but enough of one. Paige nodded, her heart tugging with something gentle and slightly aching.

“I’ll walk you out,” she said.

Azzi smiled at that. “Thanks.”

As they passed Nika on the way to the door, she held up both hands like she was blessing them. “Y’all are lucky I’m respectful. I could’ve had my phone out already.”

“Please don’t,” Paige muttered, brushing past her with a glance that said do not make this a thing.

Azzi just laughed softly, her cheeks still pink.

They walked slowly down the dorm hall, the air between them warmer now. Settled. Sleep-soft and unhurried.

Outside, the breeze had picked up — early spring and sweet. The kind of air that carried the hint of new things.

Azzi reached her car and paused by the driver’s side, fingers lingering on the handle. Paige stood just behind her, hands in her pockets.

“I’m really glad you came today,” Paige said.

Azzi turned to her. “Me too.”

There was a pause, shy but not cold — just full. Like neither of them quite wanted to leave.

“I’ll text you,” Azzi added, quieter this time. “When I get home.”

Paige nodded, stepping forward. “Okay.”

Then, without fully thinking, Paige leaned in and wrapped her arms around Azzi — pulling her into a hug that wasn’t rushed, wasn’t uncertain. Just real.

Azzi folded into her easily.

When they pulled back, Paige hesitated for only a second before leaning forward again — pressing a soft, unassuming kiss to Azzi’s cheek.

Azzi’s breath hitched.

Her eyes fluttered shut for a heartbeat, then opened again. “You’re dangerous,” she whispered, teasing — but her voice was warm.

Paige smiled. “You bring out the risk-taker in me.”

Azzi ducked her head, grinning now, and pulled open the car door. “See you soon?”

“Definitely.”

She slipped into the driver’s seat, still smiling as she buckled her seatbelt. Paige stood at the curb, watching as she pulled away — one hand raised in a little wave, the other still warm from where it had touched Azzi’s skin.

And for a long moment, she just stood there.

The breeze ruffled her hair.

And somewhere deep in her chest, Paige let herself hope again — not just for something real.

But for someone.

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

Azzi stepped quietly through the front door, slipping her shoes off by muscle memory and catching the faint sound of chatter from the kitchen.

The house smelled like roasted vegetables and something warm with garlic — the kind of familiar, grounding scent that told her her parents had been busy while she was gone. The low hum of music played through the Bluetooth speaker on the counter, Stevie Wonder crooning something lazy and upbeat.

Katie looked up first, a wooden spoon still in her hand and her apron smeared with a streak of tomato sauce.

“There’s our girl,” she said, eyes soft.

Tim turned from the sink, hands dripping from rinsing a bowl. “Hey, sweetheart. You okay?”

Azzi smiled and let her bag fall to the floor before padding into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Katie stepped closer, brushing a curl from Azzi’s face in that habitual, motherly way. “You told her?”

Azzi nodded, then let the breath she’d been holding spill out slowly. “All of it. About Ruby. About why I panicked. About the photo booth.”

“And?” Tim asked, voice calm but curious.

Azzi let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “She listened. Like, really listened. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t try to fix it. She just… stayed.”

Katie exchanged a quiet look with Tim — one of those shared glances that said we knew this girl was different.

“I told her I was scared,” Azzi continued. “And she told me she wanted to try. That she wants to know Ruby. Wants to show up.”

Tim dried his hands, then stepped around the counter and kissed the top of Azzi’s head. “That’s a good thing, kiddo.”

“It really is,” Katie added, squeezing Azzi’s hand.

Just then, Ruby came flying around the corner, socks sliding on the hardwood, tutu bouncing like it had its own gravitational field. “Mamaaaa! I hungry!”

Azzi crouched automatically and caught her mid-run, scooping her up and swinging her gently to her hip. “You hungry, huh? What do you want?”

“Chicky nuggets,” Ruby said, completely serious. “With sauce. The good sauce.”

“We’re having grown-up lunch today,” Tim said, reaching for plates. “Roast veg and pasta. No nuggets.”

Ruby sighed like the world had betrayed her.

They all sat at the table together — Azzi nestled beside Ruby, her parents across from them. The food was simple but delicious. Ruby picked around the spinach and tried to trade her carrots for extra pasta, which Tim accepted with mock seriousness like they were bartering ancient artifacts.

About halfway through the meal, Ruby looked up from her fork and blinked at Azzi with all the subtlety of a detective. “Where you go?”

Azzi smiled, brushing a curl off her daughter’s forehead. “I went to see Paige.”

Ruby’s mouth puckered. “You always see Paige without me.”

Azzi raised a brow. “I do not.”

“Yes you do!” Ruby pouted, crossing her arms. “You always come back smilin’ and say nothin’. I wanna see the girl who won unicorn.”

Azzi blinked. “Wait—you wanna meet Paige?”

Ruby nodded dramatically. “She won me Sparklehorn.”

Katie choked on a laugh. “Sparklehorn?”

“She named it this morning,” Azzi said with a grin. “Don’t ask me why.”

“Sparklehorn is my best fwend,” Ruby said firmly. “And I wanna say thank you to the girl who got her.”

Azzi tilted her head, something soft blooming in her chest. “Wanna make a video? We can send it to Paige.”

Ruby gasped like she’d just been offered a Grammy. “Yes pwease!”

They cleared the plates first — Azzi balancing Ruby on her hip while loading the dishwasher one-handed, Tim and Katie moving easily around them. It felt easy. It felt… full. Like something whole she hadn’t let herself hope for.

Later, in the lounge, Ruby climbed up on the couch with Sparklehorn tucked under one arm, eyes wide and serious.

“Okay,” Azzi said, holding up her phone camera. “Say whatever you want.”

Ruby grinned into the lens. “Hi Paige! Fank you for Sparklehorn. Mama says you had to fight a big claw monster to get her. You did a good job. You should come over. We have snacks.”

Azzi snorted, nearly shaking the camera.

Ruby waved Sparklehorn’s hoof. “She says hi too!”

Azzi stopped recording and was still laughing when she dropped onto the couch beside her. Ruby leaned against her side with all the trust in the world, Sparklehorn tucked into her lap like a sidekick.

Azzi opened her messages, found Paige’s name — already pinned at the top — and sent the video without a caption.

Just the video.

Just her daughter.

Just the start of something new.

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

Paige was still lying on her bed when her phone buzzed.

The room was quiet again — Nika had disappeared with a wink and a "you owe me details later," and Paige had sprawled out on her bed staring at the photo strip on the pin board. She hadn’t moved in a while. The last few hours replaying like a movie she never wanted to end.

Buzz.

She blinked and reached for her phone, thumb swiping lazily across the screen.

Azzi:

Video

No caption.

Just the blue bubble and the little preview still of Ruby — wide-eyed and smiling, the unicorn tucked under her arm.

Paige sat up fast, suddenly wide awake, and hit play.

The second the audio kicked in, something tugged in her chest.

“Hi Paige! Fank you for Sparklehorn. Mama says you had to fight a big claw monster to get her. You did a good job. You should come over. We have snacks.”

Paige’s hand flew to her mouth, a startled laugh escaping before she could stop it.

Ruby waved the plush’s glittery hoof like it had its own personality, then added in a rush,

“She says hi too!”

The clip ended.

Paige didn’t move for a full ten seconds.

She just stared at the screen, like maybe the weight of what she was holding would settle a little slower if she gave it time.

Then she hit replay.

Twice.

By the third time, her smile was so wide it hurt.

She couldn’t believe this was real. Couldn’t believe Azzi had wanted to share that — her daughter, her world. Couldn’t believe Ruby looked so much like her: the same curls, the same round eyes, the same crinkle of her nose when she smiled.

Azzi’s mini twin.

Paige felt like something had cracked open in her — something she hadn’t even realized was locked.

Not just because Ruby was adorable. Not just because she was holding Sparklehorn like a prize from a fairytale.

But because Azzi had sent this. Because Azzi had let her in.

And for a girl like Azzi — guarded, strong, private in the most sacred ways — that meant everything.

Paige laid back down, clutching the phone to her chest, letting the silence stretch.

It wasn’t loud or dramatic, the realization that settled over her next.

It was quiet.

Soft.

But it was full.

She was falling.

Harder than before. With more clarity than she'd let herself admit.

Not just for Azzi.

But for the world Azzi had built. For the daughter who waved with glittery hooves. For the mess and the beauty and the love that came with all of it.

For them.

She didn’t reply with words.

She just hit the heart on the video and sent back a picture — one she’d taken earlier and never meant to keep.

Azzi asleep on her shoulder.

Peaceful.

Safe.

Captionless.

Letting it say everything she didn’t know how to yet.

And then Paige tucked her phone under her pillow, exhaled, and closed her eyes.

For the first time in a long time, she let herself dream about a future that looked like this.

Sticky fingers. Laughing toddlers. Toothbrushes by the sink.

Love that wasn’t simple.

But was real.

And hers.

[noosayog]

gravitate ft. miya atsumu

wc: 2.2k part 2 of 2

part 1

contents/warnings: fwb dynamic, a lil bit of jealousyyy <3, angst to fluff, suggestive but sfw, she/her! reader, referred to as girlfriend, wife, reader has minor social anxiety

Atsumu thinks he did the right thing. 

It’s the truth after all, that even if he got a committed partner now, he wouldn’t be able to give them the time and attention they deserve. 

It’s the responsible thing to do. 

Never mind the fact that he’s fallen absolutely head over heels for you. It’s okay, though, because you had always seemed so on board with casual. At the end of the day, he’d only be hurting himself by getting more involved with you; you were the better one at drawing boundaries and saying goodbye.

Yet, after that night, he’s never been more grateful for a lull in the season, a brief break before the games begin again. He could dedicate time to practicing and conditioning and more importantly, no games meant no afterparties for him to give himself the wrong idea.

The idea that you might also have feelings for him. 

It’s wishful thinking right? He’s reading into the fact that you asked if he could wear his jersey right? Logically, he couldn’t stop you from wearing it, so why did you ask? Some roundabout way of asking if that would give all your friends the wrong idea? Of course it would. They would never miss out on a chance to clown him. 

All to say, the break in the season gives him some time away from you.

It’s all completely ironic though because all it does is gives him nothing but more time to think about you. The longer his runs are, the more time his brain has to drift to thoughts of you. At the gym, every rest interval between sets is spent remembering your smell, taste, sounds. And rest days, rest days were the worst. 

The time passes excruciatingly slowly and quickly at the same time until the season picks up and your unsaid meeting time comes around again. 

– 

A part of him had expected that you might not show up to the after-game party after what had gone down between the two of you. 

That’s if you even see what happened as note-worthy. 

So when you show up, laughing it up and enjoying yourself like nothing happened, he’s convinced that he did indeed make the right decision. This is and always has been casual to you, like what was agreed upon. It’s like a stab in the chest, but a foolish part of him thinks that means maybe the two of you will casually be drawn together at some point tonight and he’d be able to take you home and get the small piece of you he sees as his. 

But, damn, he had missed you. He can’t help the way his eyes drift to you every 5 minutes to see when he’ll finally be able to catch you alone. 

Typically, it wouldn’t take long, since he knows you tend to run low on social battery within a couple minutes of mingling. But tonight, you’re like a different person, talking and drinking all night. Every time he looks over at you, you’re a part of some circle of friends laughing like you’ve been friends forever. 

As the night drags on, Atsumu gets antsy, glancing over every other minute. He finally catches you when you break away from your group. 

“Hey,” he says, hoping he sounds significantly less – just less – than how he actually feels. “I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to you all night, miss Popular.” 

You raise a brow at him. 

“I haven’t seen you talk to this many people ever,” he jokes. 

You give him a weak smile at that. “So you think catching me during my one and only break is gonna win you any favors?” 

He relaxes a bit at the quip. “My company should count as a break.” 

You laugh and he grins back. At long last, the sound he’d been wanting to hear all night. Not aimed at some stranger, not the forced robotic sounds he knows you offer out of politeness. He’s about to throw his arm around you and lead you to someplace quiet when you seem to catch the eye of someone you know. You wave them over and he suppresses a groan. 

How many more minutes until he can have you to himself? 

A girl he dimly recognizes from some other gatherings wanders over to the two of you and Atsumu’s eyes narrow a fraction when you take half a step back to let her get closer to him. 

“Atsumu, this is Yukie. Yuki, this is Atsumu.” 

“Hi! Nice to meet you!” She comes in for a hug and almost instinctively, Atsumu shifts his body to turn it into a side hug. He pats once at her shoulder before pulling away but she keeps her hold around his side for one second too long to be friendly. 

“Well then,” he hears you say. His gaze whips to you, like knows what you’re about to do and can’t believe you’re doing it. “I’ll leave you kids to talk alone. I need to take a bathroom break. Don’t have too much fun!” 

Don’t have too much fun? He mocks you in his mind. Could you make it any more obvious? 

Atsumu pries the hand from his side off, intent on chasing you but Yukie steps in his path, starting to chat up a storm, leaving Atsumu frustrated but trying not to be rude. Something akin to rage starts to fill up in his gut, clouding his brain with impatience to end this conversation already and find you to figure out the what fuck your intentions are here.

He finally got one moment, just one moment alone with you after weeks of nothing and you just pass it off to someone else like you don’t give a damn. 

It takes several reassurances that he’d be seeing her again at other mutual friends’ gatherings to break away, and he immediately weaves through the crowd to find you. Fuck subtlety and whatever cat-and-mouse bullshit the two of you used to play.

He half expects you to have gone home; he could feel the social exhaustion oozing out of you in waves even in the couple of minutes he did manage to get with you. So imagine Atsumu’s surprise when he does indeed find you still present, chatting up Tobio-kun of all people. Sure, being high school friends with Shoyo-kun means you had the same relationship with Tobio, but why the fuck do you have a hand on his shoulder, doubling over with laughter as if listening to Tobio’s jokes made your whole night of small talk worth it. 

The red hot feeling bubbles over, and before he knows what he’s doing, he stomps over to rip your arm off Tobio’s shoulder. 

“What? You just pawn me off to some other girl so you can go off and find someone else for tonight?” 

Tobio, bless his heart, with all his social ineptitude picks up the cues and makes himself scarce. 

You shake Atsumu’s searing grip from your wrist and put some space between you two, but he’s not having it. He steps even closer, backing you up until you hit the wall. Suddenly, the hallway seems too empty, too quiet. Atsumu doesn’t hear anything over the roaring in his ears anyway. 

You only look at him for a moment before closing your eyes and turning away. “What are you talking about, Atsumu? It's not that seri-” 

“It is and you fuckin’ know it.” 

“Atsumu, I don’t think this is the place to talk about this– ” 

“So come over to mine. Let’s talk.” 

“Atsumu…” 

“Please,” he’s damn near begging, one degree from being on his knees.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

He grabs your chin and forces you to look right into his eyes. “And why not? I think we both know something happened tonight that we need to talk about.” 

“Tonight?” you echo. You slap his hands away and shove at his chest, forcing him half a step back. “Something happened last time too and you didn’t seem to wanna talk about it then. Well, now it’s my turn to tell you. Nothing happened tonight, so there’s nothing to talk about.” 

His chest aches, so much so that he can’t get any words out as he processes what you’ve just said. So he didn’t do the right thing after all. 

The aching intensifies hearing you refer to whatever went down tonight between you two as “nothing.” 

He takes a deep, heavy inhale before eking out, “don’t say that, baby. I’m sorry. Can we please talk about this?” 

“I don’t want to. In fact, Atsumu, I don’t think we should-” see each other anymore. 

“No,” he cuts you off. “Whatever it is you’re about to say, my answer is no and that’s final.” 

“And what I want doesn’t matter?”

“It does! But I won't allow you to make that decision for us until we talk properly.” 

“I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you anymore.” 

“Just-” 

What should he say? What can he say? He’s running out of words to convince you and you’re not budging. It’s pure panic that arises in his throat when he watches you desperately try to pry his fingers off your wrist. 

He grips tighter. He has a feeling that if he gives up now, it would be that easy for you to venture beyond his reach. You’d never come to another one of these gatherings. Maybe he’d get a glimpse of you at a game against Tobio, you wearing an Adlers jersey with a #20 printed in the back and fuck- 

That’s such a terrible image, he almost feels like physically doubling over to soothe the stabbing jealousy in his chest. 

“I love you,” he utters out. 

“What?” 

His forehead comes down to rest on yours, pouring out his entire being into those three words again. “I love you.” 

“Atsumu! That is not casual!” you whisper urgently. 

He can’t help but laugh. It’s a mixture of relief that the confession has finally freed itself from the confines of his ribcage and at your alarmed but adorably frank comment. 

“No,” he agrees. “It’s not.” 

“So then… why did you… that night…” 

“That night, I was an idiot that didn’t realize how much I felt for you. I took for granted that I’d always be able to see you again like this and have you like I always have. But I don’t wanna live on hope or ‘next time’ anymore. I wanna know that I can and when I will see you again.” 

Foreheads still pressed against another, he leaves you with nowhere to run. You close your eyes. He does too. 

“So will you please come home with me so we can figure this out together?” 

Much like that very first night at the bar, you waver between going back out to the party or staying with him. He sees the indecision in your eyes and for those few moments, he walks on a tightrope and you hold the scissors. 

“Okay,” you whisper, so quiet it barely makes a sound. 

–

“Missed you so damn much.” 

“Atsumu, wait-” 

It’s immediate when his door swings open. Suddenly, you’re pressed against the wall and the door slams shut. Atsumu pushes closer one leg forcefully opening yours up and picking you up by the thighs. With nowhere to run, you wrap your legs around his waist and open up for Atumu to deepen the kiss. 

“Thought we were gonna talk,” he hears you say between breaths. 

“Later,” he rasps, kissing you harder and starting to rock his hips against you. “Missed you so fuckin’ much.” 

“Me too,” you admit quietly and that’s all you get to say before you succumb to his desperation. 

– 

“You know,” you say, much later that night as you rest your cheek on his chest. “You still owe me an explanation. Just ‘cause we slept together doesn’t mean I totally forgive you.” 

Atsumu considers making a quip about how you being here with him, drawing indiscernible patterns on his torso with your finger, wearing his clothes, sleeping in his bed, smelling like him is making it look pretty good for him, but he figures he flew way to close to the sun for today. 

“I know. And I promise we’ll talk more. No more dinin’ and dashin’ in the mornin’, yeah?” 

You consider this for a moment, before propping both arms on his chest and resting your head on your fists thoughtfully. 

He thinks it's the cutest thing he’s ever seen. 

“Just so I don’t misunderstand anything again-”

“You’re not misunderstanding anything, I promise.”

“I know, but I have to hear it.” 

“Will you be my wife?” 

“Atsumu!” 

“Okay, okay sorry. We’ll do that later then. Can we start with girlfriend?” 

“Hmm… I’ll need to think about it. Not sure how I feel about a guy who goes straight to home plate before he even takes me out to dinner.” 

“Y’know what, now that you mention it, I don’t know how I feel about a girl who goes home with a guy she just met-” 

“Shut up.” you snort and something’s definitely not right because every sound you make is the most adorable thing. He swears he’s got hearts in his eyes.

“And ‘Tsumu?” 

Lovestruck, he croons, “yeah, darlin’?” 

“I’d love to be your fiance.” 

“That’s my girl.”

[pedriache]

Hi sorry if I’m insisting but are we getting anything for Jobe soon?

Kingston — Jobe Bellingham.

Pairing: Jobe Bellingham x Fem!Reader

Summary: Starting a new relationship came with it’s perks, and your boyfriend seemed to love learning everything about you.

Word count: 587

Disclaimer/s: this is purely fluff!

A/N: i have sm req’s piling up, sorry if i don’t see them all xxx i’m trying to get around to them more though!

Sitting across the wooden table from Jobe, you fiddled with the plastic coffee cup in your hand. You were nervous, he always made you nervous. Especially when he looked at you in the way he did.

His lips curling at the sides, showcasing the dimple you loved so much. The way his blinking came in short intervals and fluttered quickly, like he would miss something if he kept them closed for too long. The corners of his eyes crinkling when you said something that made him laugh, oh God you couldn’t even think about his laugh or you’d go nuts.

Jobe was a listener through and through, he always urged you to speak more, to tell him things you enjoyed, the things you were passionate about.

That’s what he was doing right now. He’d asked you about your favorite animal, to which your face had brightened at.

That expression was why he asked these questions. You talking about something you were passionate about seemed to bring out an expression he rarely got to see.

You’d stopped speaking suddenly, though. Confusing the boy. “Is something wrong?” He asks, eyebrows pinching together in concern.

“I’ve been speaking this whole time.” You point out, “it’s not fair.”

Jobe chuckles at this, his head dipping down before he looks back to you. “No, no, I want to hear you talk.” He explains, “I want to know these things.”

Oh, that got you.

Your dace flushes a crimson red, “that’s sweet, Jobe. But, it’s not fair because I want to know these things about you.” Bringing the cup to your lips, you take a quick drink and motion for him to speak. “Tell me about something you like, other than football.” You finish after swallowing.

Jobe’s eye’s widen dramatically, “me? Love something that isn’t football?” He feigns offense, hand clasping over his heart.

Laughter bubbles in your chest as you roll your eyes. “I’m being serious! Okay, if you were able to be anywhere right now, where would you go?”

“Why would I want to be anywhere else right now? I’m with you.” The corners of his lips twists into a small smirk. He was being oh so cheesy, and it made your knee’s weak.

Your head lulls to the side, a groan escaping your lips. “Oh my lord. I’m trying to get to know you, Jobe!”

Leaning back in his seat, the brunette crosses his arms, eyes flickering across your face. “What?! I’m being serious!”

“You’re insufferable.” You point at him accusatorially. “I’m not answering another question until you give me a serious response.”

Jobe huffs, “okay. If I could be anywhere, and it wasn’t with you,” he adds, just to tease you, “i’d probably be in Madrid, with my mum and Jude.”

“Aww, Jobe Bellingham, are you a momma’s boy?” You ask, humor evident in your tone, teasing him right back.

He gasps, “is it so wrong to miss my mum?” Jobe clutches his hoodie, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ll be sure to let her know you’re making fun of me for loving her.”

“Wha—hey! Do not go telling the poor woman such things.” You lean forward, propping your head into your palms. “So, let’s go question for question, okay? You ask me one thing, I ask you something after I answer. That way, it’s fair for both of us.”

Jobe leans forward, mirroring your movement. He grins widely, “Okay, but i’m going first.” He insists, leaving you with a small smile pulling at your lips.

“Go ahead.”

Likes , comments , & reblog’s are all appreciated <3 + lmk if you want dt’s on any of my future posts , specific or all!

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !

[theemporium]

witch!reader being drained from using too much of her powers and she just slumps over onto the back patio couch and passes out and wakes up to find two wolves nosing at her with worried whines and she’s like “hi Charles, Max” and then falls back asleep while the boys are sharing a look and going WHAT THE FUCK

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

You found it oddly endearing that the boys thought you were clueless to their secret.

You had known what they were the second you met them. You felt the shift in their auras, felt the rush of their true selves when you touched them for the first time. You knew. And you knew how protective wolves could get when it came to their kind, to their pack and the bonds they formed. You respected the fact they wouldn’t want to tell you instantly, but you knew. 

The relationship grew stronger when you came clean about yourself (though you hadn’t done much to hide it), and both boys had accepted you instantly. There was no fear or hesitation or concern about the powers you harboured. If anything, it made them love you more but it wasn’t enough for them to come clean. And once again, you respected that. 

But it was sweet how unbelievably unsubtle they were with their attempts to hide their secret. You don’t think they realised how bad they were, but it amused you nonetheless. It became pretty obvious to you who the two wolves at the bottom of your garden were, or the reason they were following you when you would head into the woods to collect some ingredients. 

Yet, it still warmed your heart every time you saw the two large wolves—one dark brown and the other blond—always checking up on you.

And truthfully, you hadn’t meant to reveal your knowledge of their secret in such a way. 

It had been a long week. With the moon in the perfect position, aligned with the planets and stronger than it ever could be on a full moon, you had been overworking yourself. Most other witches had covens, they had someone else to supply them and take off the stress of the magic. But that wasn’t the case for you, and it meant that every spell was quickly dwindling your reservoir to the point of exhaustion. 

You tried to pace yourself, to give yourself enough time between spells to rest and rejuvenate. But the planets were shifting and you were losing time and you pushed yourself over the edge for one last spell. 

You didn’t remember making it back to your house, not a second of the walk back from the woods in your memory. You didn’t remember crawling up the steps of the patio. And you certainly didn’t remember passing out on the couch outside, your body falling into some makeshift comatose state to try and reserve what little energy you had left. 

Everything was bleary when you felt someone nudging your arm. 

You waited for it to stop but it never did. The nudges became more insistent, and then you felt someone nudging your leg too. You made a noise of discontentment but your eyes remained shut, which didn’t seem to please whatever was nudging you. 

You felt a little more awake when you heard a low whine. It sounded scared, like a plea for help rather than anything else. It sounded concerned. You tried your best to force your eyes open, to blink them open to see whatever was nudging you.

It took a few seconds for coloured splodges to become actual shapes but once your eyes focused on the two wolves in front of you, you couldn’t help but let a smile take over your face.

“My boys,” you murmured happily as you let out a deep sigh. “Just such caring puppies, hm?”

If it was possible for wolves to look comically confused, you would have thought you were seeing said expression right then.

You let out a small snort. “Of course I know it’s you.”

Both wolves stayed frozen in their spot as you reached out towards them, your fingers brushing against their fur before your hand fell limp at your side again. You blinked, a little slower and your eyes stayed closed for much longer intervals too. You could practically feel the concern radiating off them.

“M’fine,” you murmured as you nuzzled your face into the couch cushion with a sleepy smile. “Just a lil’ tired. Just…need a nap.”

Everything felt far too fuzzy and it didn’t take long before the exhaustion won over your body, pulling you back into a deep sleep before you could even realise the boys were shifting back into their human forms.

“Mon amour,” Charles whispered in a worried voice, kneeling beside the couch as he gently stroked his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “She’s out cold.”

“She needs to rest so she doesn’t burn herself out completely,” Max said with a frown on his face, shaking his head. “She was reckless. She could have hurt herself if she wasn’t careful.”

Charles hummed, nodding his head in agreement. “And she knows.”

“We were stupid for thinking we could hide it from her,” Max replied honestly before he grabbed a blanket, placing it over your body before you got too cold. “Let’s take her inside, help warm her up.”

Charles turned to the other boy, eyes wide and a little glossy. “Will she be okay?”

“We’ll take care of her,” Max reassured him, running a hand through the boy’s hair until he melted under the touch. “C’mon, I’ll make us some dinner for her to wake up to too.”

.

[hvlplvss]

| welcome to the moulin rouge

summary: in which colby’s girlfriend stars in the hit broadway musical, moulin rouge. with little knowledge on the musical, he’s surprised when he first watches it.

warnings: smut, dirty talk, fingering, shower sex, praise, slight degradation, cream pie, hair pulling, slight edging. lmk if i missed anything !!

authors note: for those who haven’t watched moulin rouge, i recommend searching ‘welcome to moulin rouge-west end cast’ to get an idea about it. but if you don’t want to, it’s a musical based on a cabaret club and y/n plays one of the main girls from the club. i highly recommend it if you have never watched it!

y/n had recently been casted as ‘nini’ in one of her top three musicals of all time. moulin rouge. ever since the musical had come out, she’d adored it. knowing that she would love to be in it herself one day.

and that day was here. it was the opening night for the new cast of moulin rouge. she was also performing amongst some of her most favourite broadway performers.

her boyfriend colby and his best friend sam, who she were also really good friends with, had bought tickets for the first public opening show. they decided they might as well buy the most expensive tickets, which were the ones right at the front of the stage, where you got your own little table for two.

in true honesty, y/n had barely spent any time with colby recently. she’d been so busy at rehearsals and taking promotional pictures. so the only time she saw him, was once she arrived home, which was usually later than 11pm.

the boys sat at their table at 7:28pm, waiting for the show to begin. sam turns to colby, “so you have no idea, what this show is about?” sam asked.

colby shook his head in response, “nope. i’ve watched loads of other shows with y/n, but she won’t let me watch this, cause she wants me to see her in the show first,” he explained. “have you seen it?”

sam nodded, “yeah. y/n told me to watch it before we came to see this,” he answered. colby rolled his eyes, but a small smile stuck on his face. but he was slightly confused. how come sam could watch the movie, but he couldn’t?

the lights slightly dimmed, taking colby out of his confused state. aaron tveit, who y/n had spoke about, walked out onto stage and past the two boys, where he stood to the left of them.

aaron looked around the audience, then he looked back to the bright glowing red ‘moulin rouge’ sign. aaron lifted his hands slightly and the sign lifted up, clearing the view of the stage. the music began, a low thudding noise, with a drum every few beats.

aaron disappears off of stage, and a spotlight flashes on the back wall, where there is a silhouette of four girls. colby could recognise one of them immediately.

‘hey sister, soul sister, flow sister’

the curtain they were standing behind lifted, revealing his girlfriend. colby’s eyes widened in shock at what his girlfriend was wearing.

y/n stood there in barely any clothing. it was all lingerie. black to be specific. her hands and arms adorned red velvet gloves which stopped at her bicep. she wore black stockings, which were connected to the black corset like bodysuit by a thin piece of fabric. the corset revealed a great deal of cleavage, and left little to the imagination.

as the four stepped forward beginning to dance, colby didn’t know what to do with himself. his girlfriend dancing half naked on stage in front of hundreds of people.

the dance was as sexual as you could get, grabbing onto your own waist, dropping to the floor. doing anything that was vaguely provocative. and colby still didn’t know how to react.

what really riled him up though was when another character came on stage, someone called ‘the duke’ something like that anyway, colby wasn’t in the right mind set to even focus on that.

y/n had gone over to said character, and in simple words, had to rub herself against him. colby’s eyes stared dead at y/n. he wasn’t mad or annoyed. but he was so jealous.

the interval had just begun and colby still couldn’t stop thinking about you. sam spoke up, “you good there, colby?” he asked.

colby nodded, looking over to his bestfriend, “did you know all about that?” colby questioned.

“what your girlfriend being half naked on stage?” he answered, colby nodded, “well yeah, she’s been showing me behind the scenes things for ages. she wanted all of it to be a surprise for you,” sam added. colby hummed in response, turning back to look at the stage as the show resumed.

colby and sam walked out of the theatre and round to stage door, to meet y/n after the show. when they arrived there was a slight crowd stood there, asking for photos and signatures and what not.

y/n was amongst them, signing playbills and taking photos with fans of the show. colby and sam stood back from the crowd, allowing y/n to take her time. but colby didn’t want to wait. he was desperate for his girlfriend.

after what seemed like forever, the crowd had dispersed, meaning y/n could make her way over to the boys.

“there she is!” sam smiled, hugging y/n and telling her congratulations. she thanked him and then turned to her boyfriend.

y/n reached to kiss colby on the lips. and just from that, she could tell. she knew colby was riled up. y/n grabbed onto colby’s hand, as sam led the way to the car.

the three arrived home not much later, as they opened the door, y/n spoke up, “i’m gonna go shower real quick,” the boys nodded and y/n ran off upstairs.

“i’m probably gonna go to bed now,” colby stated, “it’s already pretty late,”

sam nodded, with a slight eyebrow raise of disbelief. he knew his friend wasn’t going to sleep, he knew exactly what was going on with the boy. but he wished him a goodnight and walked off into the kitchen.

colby walked up the stairs and into his room. he could hear the shower running from the en-suite, which was connected to their room. he could also hear y/n’s light humming of some of the songs from the show.

colby began undressing himself and walked into the shower with y/n. “you know, what you did to me, y/n?” colby suddenly asked.

y/n jumped in shock at the boys voice, “shit colby, you scared me,” y/n smiled, turning to face her boyfriend, taking him all in.

“you know, how i felt? when i was sat there watching you,” he repeated, “seeing you dance against everyone,”

y/n bit her lip, trying to hide her smile. but colby could tell. it was a habit she always had.

“you think it’s funny? that your boyfriend was sat in the audience with a hard on?” he asked seductively, “it won’t be funny soon,” he said lowly.

colby grabbed his girlfriends cheeks and brought his lips to hers roughly. he held her face with one hand and her lower back with the other.

colby wasn’t playing nice at all. the rough yet passionate kiss was clear enough to say how frustrated he was.

colby’s mouth left hers and began making it’s way down her neck, biting harshly, causing y/n to let out a whimper. “come on, let me hear you,” colby said.

y/n had only seen her boyfriend like this a couple of times. usually when he’s jealous or wound up by something.

“don’t tease, baby,” y/n pleaded.

colby hushed her, “i’m taking my time. just like how i had to sit there for two whole hours, watching you dance about with barely anything on,”

colby grabbed her tit, going back to roughly kissing his girlfriend. y/n let out a moan, but it was sealed by colby, who’s mouth covered hers.

colby let go of her tit and reached down, letting his fingers cascade down y/n’s sides. she arched into his touch, “so needy,” colby spoke against her lips.

his fingers finally reached where she needed him the most. his thumb pressed firmly on her clit, rubbing in circles.

y/n moaned out, leaning her head on colby’s chest, letting the water from the shower run down her back. colby removed his fingers, causing y/n to let out a small whine.

“you’re such a desperate whore, aren’t you?”

“only for you,” y/n answered.

“only for me, huh?” colby smirked, “you’re mine, aren’t you.” y/n nodded, “say it, y/n. say you’re mine,”

y/n removed her head from colby’s chest and looked him directly in his eyes, “i’m yours, colby,”

colby nodded in approval, “good girl,” y/n’s head went back onto colby’s shoulder, as two of his fingers pressed inside her cunt, stretching her out.

y/n stifled a moan. as her boyfriend worked his fingers inside of her, she latched her mouth onto his lower neck, causing colby to groan.

she littered dark purple bruises across his neck and chest, admiring her work after each one. she knew he’d eventually get her back for the mess across his neck as he couldn’t show it all over social media, or else people would talk.

colby could feel y/n approaching her orgasm, so he removed his hand. causing y/n to remove his mouth off of colby, “what-”

colby hushed his girlfriend, “want you to cum at the same time, baby,” he answered.

he aligned his cock with her pussy, letting it glide against her folds, teasing her.

“please colby,” she begged.

“awh, you’re begging now? that’s cute,” he answered.

colby slid his cock in slowly. y/n moaned out and colby let out a low groan, watching the pleasure that washed over his girlfriends face.

he wrapped one arm around her waist and placed his other arm on the back wall of the shower.

after a few seconds, colby began moving his hips. snapping up into y/n, causing her to moan out loudly. her arms clung onto colby’s shoulders, staring directly at him.

she grabbed onto colby’s wet hair, and slightly tugged, causing the boys head to loll back.

“you getting close?” colby asked. y/n nodded, her bottom lip coming between her teeth, “thought so. feel so tight, baby,”

y/n pulled colby in by his hair to kiss him roughly, which made him speed up his hips. colby mumbled against her lips, “cum for me,” he looked at his girlfriend, who stared directly back at him.

colby felt y/n release around him. he wouldn’t last much longer himself. his hips stilled, realising himself inside of y/n.

after a few moments, he removed his cock from her. placing a kiss on her forehead and then a soft one on her lips.

“you okay?” he asked.

she nodded, “are you?”

“i’m more than okay. and i’m so proud. so incredibly proud of you,”

“well, if when you come and watch me perform and it ends up like this, you might have to come watch me a few more times,”

[twilights-800-cats]

<< Chapter 14 || Chapter 15 || Chapter 16 || From the Beginning || Patreon >>

Chapter 15

Mistyfoot charged through the forest, her paws flying across the trail. Mousefur and Ferncloud followed without question, driven by the horrible silence and the scent of blood in their noses. Mistyfoot’s heart pounded in her chest as she considered every possibility, trying to predict what they might find once they crossed the border. She hoped and prayed to StarClan that the screech hadn’t belonged to any cat she knew.

They quickly put the ShadowClan border behind them and pushed through the thick undergrowth surrounding the greenleaf Twolegplace, finally stopping inside the unnatural clearing to catch their breath. The green plane that stretched before them was empty but for the Twoleg trash cans that studded the ground at regular intervals - and, at the base of the nearest lay a small, dark heap, their blood sprayed against the hard material, still fresh and dripping.

“Oh, no!” Ferncloud breathed. Her eyes went round, the whites showing. “That’s Willowpaw!”

A chill took Mistyfoot’s pelt. Willowpaw! Her heart beat faster. The ShadowClan apprentice was barely older than Larchpaw - they had gotten close along the Great Journey, along with Rushpaw, Willowpaw’s littermate. Their mother, Finchsong, was a close friend of Ferncloud’s. Mistyfoot swallowed.

The three she-cats rushed over to Willowpaw. The small tom lay prone on his side in a pool of his own blood. Mistyfoot gagged at the intense smell, and Ferncloud whimpered at the sight. Mousefur turned away, scanning the area.

“Is he alive?” Mousefur asked, her ears flicking to and fro.

Mistyfoot forced herself to stare at Willowpaw. The dark gray tom was still, his spine pressed against the trash can as if he’d been tossed at it. One of his limbs looked broken or at least out of place, and he was covered in more fresh scratches than Mistyfoot could count. She couldn’t fathom how he might be alive after losing so much blood, but there was just the faintest stirring of his whiskers - somehow, he was alive. Stunned, but alive.

“He’s breathing!” Mistyfoot called back, hope catching in her voice.

“Who did this to him?” Ferncloud wondered desperately, her eyes big and watery. “A fox, maybe?” She gently touched a paw to a batch of scratches. She hissed, “Mistyfoot, these look like cat’s claws!”

Mistyfoot couldn’t deny that. The marks matched Ferncloud’s paw, though off by just a hair. She saw her friend’s spotted legs tremble, and, her voice wavering, Ferncloud asked, breathless, “What do we do?”

“Clean him up and stop the bleeding,” Mistyfoot ordered swiftly, trying to keep her head above water. Ferncloud immediately set to work, lapping gently at Willowpaw’s pelt with her tongue. Mistyfoot lifted her muzzle and glanced at Mousefur, flicking her tail to beckon the smaller she-cat over.

“Who do you think did this?” she asked quietly.

Mousefur peered at Willowpaw’s body. She reached out and gently turned over one of the apprentice’s paws, bending down to sniff the bloodied pads. Mistyfoot swallowed around the lump in her throat. Willowpaw still had his claws out - the young cat had put up a fight.

“Not a Clan cat, that’s for sure,” Mousefur answered, “and there’s no fur caught in his claws. There is a scent, though I don’t recognize it.”

Mistyfoot closed her eyes and leaned closer, sniffing. Other than blood and ShadowClan, there was another scent - part of Mistyfoot had expected the stranger she had been chasing around ThunderClan territory, but it wasn’t. There were two scents, for one, and for another...

“I know those scents,” she murmured, lifting her muzzle. She met Mousefur’s eye. “When we were exploring the territory and trying to find camps, we ran into a pair of kittypets. They attacked us for even getting near their nest. It’s been a while, but that’s them.” She could confidently say: “I’m sure of it.”

Mousefur tipped her head, confused. “Kittypets did this?”

Mistyfoot sat back onto her haunches. The more she thought about it, the more certain she became - those two kittypets had to be the problem ShadowClan was facing. One glance at Willowpaw all but confirmed it. If they were willing to do this much to a cat as young as him, Mistyfoot did not doubt that they were behind Orre’s death, too, and the multiple new wounds on the ShadowClan warriors.

But why? Mistyfoot wondered, her head spinning back to that first encounter. Those two kittypets had fought like they were willing to kill, but they hadn’t pursued once they were driven off. I thought we had sent them a message - Stoneheart nearly clawed one of their eyes out! Didn’t they learn their lesson?

She swallowed again, the smell of Willowpaw’s blood growing overwhelming. “We need to get him someplace safe,” she meowed. Ferncloud was trying to stop the bleeding, but she wasn’t a medicine cat, and she didn’t have anything to work with here. Mistyfoot looked to Mousefur. “You grab one end, I’ll take the other - we’ll drag him into the woods and-”

“You will do no such thing!”

Mistyfoot felt the claws shortly after - they pressed into her pelt, breaking the skin as she was thrust against the hard earth. She heard Mousefur grunt a tail-length away and then a strong, defensive hiss from Ferncloud over by the trash can.

Mistyfoot struggled against the bulky black-and-white body pressed against her, looking for purchase with her paws as the scent of ShadowClan choked her - eventually, her hind legs found her attacker’s belly, and she pushed with all her might, sending them flying.

She got to her paws, bristling. She was face-to-face with Skipnose, the young black-and-white cat panting a tail-length away. Off to the side, Mousefur was wrestling with Pinewhisker, while Ferncloud was squaring up to Pansytail, the tortoiseshell ShadowClan warrior lashing her tail with a fierce expression. Focusing back on her opponent, Mistyfoot crouched, prepared to fend off another attack from a furious Skipnose.

Pansytail spoke up, suddenly: “Everyone, stop!”

Skipnose unbent his spine immediately. Ferncloud relaxed, exhaling with relief. Mousefur had Pinewhisker pinned, the small brown tabby tom wiggling beneath her as he flailed desperately.

Mousefur dodged a paw swipe and growled, “Stop that, already - we didn’t do this!”

“She’s right, Pinewhisker,” Pansytail urged quickly. “Stop. We don’t have time for this.”

Pinewhisker slowly came to a stop, and it was only when he sheathed his claws that Mousefur let him go. The brown tabby, bristling, immediately got to his paws and lunged for Willowpaw, his apprentice, nearly pushing Ferncloud out of the way to see him.

“He’s alive!” Pinewhisker breathed raggedly. He pressed his muzzle against Willowpaw’s. “Oh, thank StarClan!”

Mistyfoot felt a pang in her heart. She knew what it was like to be so frantic over an injured apprentice - Willowpaw had a chance that Shrewpaw didn’t, though, and she wanted more than anything for their fates to differ.

“The kittypets did this, didn't they?” Mistyfoot wondered, looking at Pansytail. She didn’t know who was leading this patrol, but Russetstar’s mate was the senior warrior from ShadowClan here. “What were they called again?”

“Jacques and Susan,” Pansytail recited bitterly, as if their names were toxic. “And yes. They did this.”

“We didn’t see anything,” Mousefur explained. “Just heard him screech. Their scent trail was well hidden.”

Skipnose muttered, “Him hollering was probably what scared them away. They would’ve finished him off otherwise.”

“Silence, Skipnose,” Pansytail growled, grimacing.

Mistyfoot peered at the ShadowClan cats. “Let us help you take him back to camp.”

Pansytail’s frown grew deeper, but Mistyfoot hadn’t missed the way that her eyes were darting around - she was still on the lookout for the kittypets. Just the three of them taking Willowpaw home would put them in a vulnerable spot if they attacked. With Mistyfoot, Mousefur, and Ferncloud helping them, striking a group that large would be foolish.

The ShadowClan warrior seemed to understand that. Pansytail gave the faintest of nods. “When we reach camp, you’re to leave immediately,” she decided.

“No,” Mistyfoot declared. She raised her chin. “I’m going to talk to Russetstar. Something has to be done about this.” Knowing the full scope of the problem might get Tinystar to listen, though Mistyfoot was certain Russetstar wouldn’t allow an outsider to see how vulnerable ShadowClan truly was.

Pansytail curled her lip, and Skipnose bristled. Pinewhisker didn’t share his Clanmate’s obstinance; he was too busy trying to drape Willowpaw across his back with Ferncloud’s help, the young apprentice’s blood dripping down his back and legs.

Skipnose huffed, looking offended. “This is none of your business, ThunderClan.”

“Skipnose, please,” Pansytail hissed. Turning back to Mistyfoot, she mewed curtly, “I’m not sure what you expect from her, but you can try.”

Mousefur gave Skipnose a sharp, scrutinizing look. The tom stubbornly stalked past her, sidling up to Pinewhisker to help take some of Willowpaw’s weight off of his Clanmate. He dipped his patchy muzzle to Pansytail, and, their group ready, they set off, heading across the clearing and toward the trees, with Pansytail leading the way and Mistyfoot, Mousefur, and Ferncloud surrounding Willowpaw and his carriers.

They moved carefully through the woods. The ground here was softened by shed pine needles and flatter than ThunderClan’s territory, made almost deafeningly quiet by the thick pine trees that muffled the world with their size. Were the air not permeated with the stench of Willowpaw’s blood, the scents would be musty and sharp, teasing the nose to sneeze and break the silence.

Mistyfoot hadn’t been here since their first quick jaunt around the lake. She recalled that the land closest to the water, over by RiverClan territory, was swampy, more like ShadowClan’s old territory used to be. The ground was drier here, though, with only a hint of moisture trapped beneath the thick layer of pine needles.

She tried to recall where ShadowClan’s camp was - she knew it was someplace well-hidden, barely visible even when one looked right at it. Perhaps that was why it was so hard to picture since only Stoneheart had gotten a good look at it.

She had plenty of time to think about it, though. Pansytail was moving along very slowly, slower than Mistyfoot had realized. At first, she thought it had been for Willowpaw’s sake, but since there was little to make them stumble here, Mistyfoot soon came to another conclusion - ShadowClan wasn’t confident in their own territory anymore.

A more careful look at Pansytail confirmed it. The tortoiseshell she-cat was practically tip-toeing, her ears swiveling in every direction to catch any stray noise. Every few paces, she would stop to scent the air. A bird chirping far off made her pause, her tail stiff and ready to signal. Mistyfoot glanced at Mousefur, who had also been watching Pansytail, finding her Clanmate’s confused expression grimly vindicating.

This wasn’t a hunter, confident in her territory - this was prey.

Their journey was long, made longer by Willowpaw’s injuries. As the sun began to trail across the sky, they headed down towards the lake and then began to follow the very edge of the woods, where solid ground gave way to a boggy shore. Glancing behind her, Mistyfoot could see the forest and the Twoleg halfbridge that jutted out into the lake just around the bend of the water - ThunderClan felt so far away right now, and she guessed that they wouldn’t be back before nightfall.

They’re probably so worried, she thought, troubled. She imagined Nightfrost’s face when she and her patrol didn’t return and felt a pang of sorrow in her gut. Was he already looking for her? What would he think when her scent trail disappeared over the ShadowClan border?

While she was worrying, Mousefur sidled up to Pansytail’s shoulder and asked, “So how did two kittypets manage to strike fear into the hearts of ShadowClan?”

Pansytail growled low in her throat and Mistyfoot heard Skipnose hiss. But it seemed that Mousefur hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true - it was Pinewhisker who muttered, “They know our every move.”

Mistyfoot, confused, tilted her head. “How can that be?” ShadowClan were the most secretive of all the Clans - there were stories of them turning even a simple question like what one of them had for breakfast into a puzzle.

“And why would they even care?” Ferncloud added.

“It’s not like we haven’t asked!” Pansytail shot back, her ears flat. Her eyes flashed angrily. “They want to drive us out, and it seems like they’re enjoying themselves while they do it.”

“They take our prey from right in front of us,” Skipnose growled. “And they always strike when one of us is alone, or they’re evenly matched.” He spat, “Cowards!”

Mistyfoot glanced at the ShadowClan cats, noting that she could see the outlines of their ribs rippling faintly beneath their pelts. They weren’t starving, but the kittypets were ensuring ShadowClan couldn’t enjoy the full bounty of their new home.

“The way they fight reminds me of BloodClan,” Pansytail added, shuddering along her spine. “They don’t have a code.” She glanced back at Willowpaw. “They don’t care how much they hurt someone.”

Mousefur lashed her tail. “And Russetstar is letting this just go on? It’s two whole kittypets! You’re ShadowClan!”

Pansytail stopped short, arching her back. The patrol halted around her as she glared at Mousefur and hissed, “You think we don’t know that?”

“We can’t even get close to their nest without them running for their Twoleg,” snapped Skipnose, “and he’s just as bad as them! He threw things at us! When Orre and Blackfoot led a patrol to negotiate with the kittypets, their Twoleg rushed out and hit Orre so hard with something that... That...” Skipnose swallowed his words, his eyes glistening with sorrow.

Mistyfoot swallowed, horrified. That’s how Orre really died? Great StarClan!

Pinewhisker adjusted Willowpaw’s weight on his shoulders. “And we never know where they’re going to come from. They pop up out of nowhere, and when they flee, it’s like they disappear into thin air.”

Mistyfoot’s pelt prickled. Out of nowhere? Disappearing? How can that be? Her tail trembled. A horrible thought occurred to her: Do they know about the tunnels? Are there more of them on ShadowClan territory?

“This hasn’t been easy to deal with,” Pansytail hissed, baring her teeth. “But we can handle it.”

“Can you?” Mousefur questioned. “Does Russetstar have any sort of plan?”

Pansytail scoffed, tossing her head. “Come on,” she snapped, “we’re almost there.”

And they were - Pansytail led them upslope between the pines, weaving between cedars and the occasional stunted oak or beech. The land here was low and easy, and Mistyfoot thought it looked familiar - this area had more undergrowth than most of ShadowClan territory, with briars and brambles tangling along the ground and dark-leafed ivy growing up the trunks of the trees.

Slowly, it came into view - the huge cedar with its peeling, graying bark and its impossibly large, fan-like branches. In a hollow beneath the boughs, Mistyfoot recalled, was ShadowClan’s camp.

In the moons since coming to the lake, they had built up a wall of briars and ivy to keep out nosy intruders, and the camp wall was almost indistinguishable from the world around it. Pansytail led the way inside, disappearing into a nearly invisible gap in the tangled barrier. Mistyfoot followed, her heart beating quickly - seeing another Clan’s camp was always a tense situation, and ShadowClan kept their camp so hidden and private for a reason.

It was cool and dark beneath the boughs of the cedar, and when Mistyfoot emerged, she had to squint to take in ShadowClan’s home as the sun barely penetrated between the huge, fan-like branches. It was bigger than she had realized, with a clearing carpeted in soft pine needles and lined with dens that seemed to be made from trees that had fallen long ago and grown hollow and gray. Mistyfoot could only guess at which den was which, but at the back of the camp, a cave hidden deep beneath the roots of the protective cedar was no doubt the leader’s den.

Confirmation of that came as Russetstar slid out from the darkness, her shoulders sharp in the shadows and her eyes even sharper as she saw the ThunderClan cats in her camp. By now, the others had made their way through the entrance, and the scents of ThunderClan and blood filled the hollow. Every cat turned their heads, and to Mistyfoot it seemed as if every warrior had unsheathed their claws, too. Her pelt prickled ominously. She searched for Stoneheart, but couldn’t find him.

Pansytail met Russetstar in the center of the clearing, the two discreetly touching noses. Pinewhisker and Skipnose slid off to the side, heading for one of the hollow logs with Willowpaw bobbing between them - Littlecloud emerged quickly, bristling, and from the crowd of ShadowClan cats came Cedarheart and Finchsong, tails bushing as they rushed over to see to their son.

“Is that Willowpaw?” breathed Rowanclaw from off to the side. The dark ginger tom stepped forward, eyes wide as he held back Rushpaw with one leg. He looked to Mistyfoot and asked, “What happened?”

“ThunderClan,” Russetstar mused before Mistyfoot could answer. As Blackfoot came to her side, her gaze slid to Mistyfoot, deep green to dark blue. “What is the meaning of this?”

Ferncloud and Mousefur kept close, their bodies stiff and ready to flee. Mistyfoot took a deep, steadying breath. Time to be deputy, she thought.

“We heard Willowpaw scream in the forest while out hunting and went to investigate,” she said, raising her voice. She was aware of every ShadowClan cat glaring at her. One wrong move, and she’d be lining for their nests. “We found him in the greenleaf Twolegplace, wounded. His attackers had fled.”

“They know,” Pansytail murmured into Russetstar’s ear. Russetstar curled her lip in response, looking disgusted.

Every warrior had something to say about that revelation - their grumbles filled the hollow, trapped by the boughs of the cedar. Blackfoot glared at Pansytail and hissed, “You told them?”

“We figured it out ourselves,” Mousefur grunted, glowering at Blackfoot, “thank you very much!”

“For the most part!” Ferncloud added swiftly.

Mistyfoot raised her tail to speak. “Pansytail did tell us, but only because we asked, and she felt she had to,” she meowed, hoping that absolved the ShadowClan she-cat. Mistyfoot swallowed. This was her chance. She stared squarely at Russetstar and declared, “ShadowClan is in trouble. Let us help you, Russetstar.”

The protest was immediate and vicious: “We don’t need ThunderClan’s help!” hissed Talonstripe.

Tallpoppy bristled from the back: “You’d tell us how to make dirt if we let you!”

“Don’t forget about what happened to WindClan,” growled Redclaw. Her eyes were narrowed to slits. “We still don’t know if they were behind it!”

“We’re ShadowClan,” added Blackfoot. He stood up straight and tall, declaring, “We need no Clan’s help!”

“Tell that to the bones I see sticking out from your pelt,” Mousefur shot back, baring her teeth.

Blackfoot growled deep in his throat, taking a step forward. Mistyfoot spotted the gleam of claws, and her tail bristled anxiously.

“Enough,” Russetstar meowed tersely. The protests of her Clan died instantly. Mistyfoot felt a spark of admiration for the strong she-cat, who could command her Clanmates without moving a whisker. Still staring deep into Mistyfoot, Russetstar offered, “Make your case, ThunderClan.”

Mistyfoot took another deep breath. “This is no way for a Clan to live. You think you can handle this on your own, but Orre is dead, your Clan is being injured on the daily, and Willowpaw is badly hurt. Eventually, there won’t be anyone left to fight.”

Tallpoppy hissed, “You don’t get to talk about Orre!”

“Tallpoppy, enough,” Russetstar said patiently. She gestured for Mistyfoot to continue.

“You’re being hunted in your own territory,” Mistyfoot pressed on. She took a step towards Russetstar, aware that she was pushing her luck with every word. “Please. I’m sure that together, we can devise a solution before you lose more cats - before they see ThunderClan as fair game, too.”

“Tinystar is behind you on this?” Russetstar wondered quietly.

Mistyfoot swallowed her words. She looked around the camp again and wondered where Stoneheart was - surely her brother was here right now? Wouldn’t he defend her?

Russetstar sighed. “I see,” she murmured. Louder, she meowed, “I appreciate your concern - but this is not ThunderClan’s problem.” Her gaze hardened. “ShadowClan handles ShadowClan affairs.”

Mistyfoot burst, “But you can’t! You aren’t! A pair of kittypets are getting the better of you, and you’re letting it happen!” Her fur bristled with frustration.

Blackfoot snarled, his muscles tensed to spring. Russetstar slapped her tail in front of her deputy, her eyes narrowing. “Watch your words, Mistyfoot,” she meowed carefully. “You may have earned great respect for bringing us here, but what you’ve gained, you can lose in an instant.”

“The same goes for you,” Mistyfoot returned sharply. Her heart beat swiftly in her chest as she raised her chin. “You told Tinystar that he needed to appoint a deputy so that he looked like a real Clan leader - well, he did, and here you are now, letting your Clanmates suffer because ShadowClan is proud enough to give all the advice they want, but they refuse to take it.”

Mistyfoot narrowed her eyes. Russetstar’s gaze was intense, daring her to speak on: “Talk to Tinystar,” Mistyfoot insisted, willing with all her might for Russetstar to listen. “If you ask, he will help - but that means admitting you’re a bad leader, too.”

“You’re out of line, ThunderClan!” Blackfoot snapped.

“Be hunted in your own territory, then!” Mistyfoot shot back, glaring at Blackfoot. Her paws were trembling. “Just remember who let that happen!”

“It’s time for you to leave,” Russetstar decided, her voice dripping with anger.

“Agreed,” Mousefur grunted. “This was like talking to a stone.”

Mistyfoot swallowed, cursing herself inside. Had she really blown up her opportunity to help so swiftly? Some deputy I am! She glanced around at the gathered ShadowClan cats, feeling the anger and animosity in their gazes as they glared at her - all but Rowanclaw, who could only stare at his own paws.

“Let’s go,” Ferncloud whispered. She was shivering. “I don’t like this.”

“Neither do they,” Mistyfoot mumbled back. “They’re just too stubborn to see it.”

Russetstar offered no escort, perhaps because she hadn’t the cats to spare or perhaps because ShadowClan warriors would be watching them the whole way home from the darkness. Either way, Mistyfoot gathered up Mousefur and Ferncloud with her tail and led them out of the hollow, feeling the cold eyes of ShadowClan on her with every step.

———————————————————

Tinystar was waiting for them when they returned, sitting on the root of an alder tree just outside the thorn tunnel. The stars of Silverpelt were dancing above, surrounding a waning moon, and the three she-cats were dragging their paws at this point, exhausted.

“Go inside,” he told them, flicking his tail at Mousefur and Ferncloud, “rest. Mistyfoot, stay here.”

Mistyfoot obeyed, watching her friends slip into the thorn tunnel and disappear into camp. No doubt they would be bombarded with questions after being gone for the whole day - perhaps that was why Tinystar had chosen to wait out here for them.

She glanced at Tinystar. He looked serene in the fading moonlight, expressionless and considering, but Mistyfoot could sense his temper boiling beneath his pelt. The wrong words would bring it out, and Mistyfoot wasn’t sure what the right words were anymore. All she wanted was to curl up in her nest and sleep, but a deputy could never just do that.

“When you didn’t return, we tracked your scent to the ShadowClan border,” Tinystar meowed quietly. His pale eyes rested on Mistyfoot as he meowed on, “Several warriors wanted to take a party across the border to investigate, but I had half an idea of what you might’ve been doing, so I ordered them to wait.”

He sighed, gesturing with his tail for her to come close. “What happened?”

Mistyfoot sat down beside the root, curling her tail around her paws. Tinystar was quiet and contemplative as she told him about finding Willowpaw, and taking him back to ShadowClan to be taken care of. He said nothing as she talked about the two kittypets harassing ShadowClan, and he let her get through her attempt to convince Russetstar to ask for help without complaint.

“They can’t handle this on their own, Tinystar,” Mistyfoot finished, hoping he understood this time. She looked up at him, imploring him to listen. “Russetstar is letting her pride cloud her judgment. We have to help them.”

Tinystar blinked. “I don’t disagree,” he mused, his tone mild, “but my answer is still the same. Unless Russetstar asks for help herself, ThunderClan will not get involved.”

The fur between Mistyfoot’s shoulders bristled. “Cats are dying, Tinystar!” Fury boiled inside her belly, and she sank her claws into the earth. “You’re just going to let this happen? This isn’t you at all!” She glared at her leader, disbelief turning her pelt hot. “The Tinystar I know wouldn’t hesitate - he’d put together a patrol and come to Russetstar with a plan to save her Clan, not sit here and say there’s nothing to be done!”

Tinystar narrowed his eyes. He sighed between his teeth and muttered, “That Tinystar is several lives ago, now, Mistyfoot.” He blinked at her. “Following your heart has consequences, and what you think is right doesn’t always end up that way.” His eyes softened. “When you’re a leader, you’ll understand.”

Mistyfoot stared at Tinystar. She hissed, “Fear won’t stop me like it’s stopped you.”

Carefully, Tinystar meowed, “You would disobey me?”

“If it spared warriors a needless death, yes,” Mistyfoot said firmly. Her heart thundered in her ears as she glared down at Tinystar. “Always. Every time. It’s what you taught me to do - you might’ve forgotten it, you might’ve lost faith in yourself, but I haven’t. I won’t.”

“And when you must bury the consequences of your actions?” Tinystar wondered softly. “When you have to live with the knowledge that your choices hurt others, your friends and your kin, even when all you wanted was to help?”

Mistyfoot swallowed. “I don’t know, but isn’t that something everyone has to deal with, leader or not?” she dared to say. “I used to be terrified over every decision I made. For the longest time, I thought I was the reason Mosspaw died, or Shrewpaw, or... Or Stormfur, even.”

Crickets began to sing in the night. She sighed. Tinystar didn’t know the truth about Stormfur. “But I’m not. Or maybe I am? Agonizing over it makes me miserable. It keeps me from pressing forward, from learning what to do better next time.” She stared at Tinystar again, desperate for him to understand. “I can’t live like that anymore. I’m trying not to. Tinystar...” She hesitated but rested her tail across his shoulders. “You can’t live like that, either.”

Mistyfoot blinked. “We believe in you. All of us. You brought us so far, through so much. We need you, and we need you to be you - the cat who did anything and everything to help others. The cat who gave up his life for ThunderClan. The cat who saw past where someone comes from or who their family is. ThunderClan - all the Clans - wouldn’t be here now without that part of you.

“Things have changed since we crossed the mountains, for sure,” she finished, her heart thudding in her ears. She was whispering now, emotion choking the strength out of her words: “But never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that part of you would die with the old forest.”

She waited for him to growl, or snap, or even launch himself at her, claws unsheathed. But he didn’t. He stared up at her for a long moment while her words faded into silence, and then he lifted his muzzle to the stars.

He chuckled. So quietly that Mistyfoot barely heard it.

“You’ve changed so much in the seasons I have known you, Mistyfoot,” he breathed. His voice was soft, his eyes tinged with sorrow. “For the better, I hope.” He flicked his tail. “Go and get some sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

“What about ShadowClan?” Mistyfoot pressed. Had she finally, finally gotten through to him? “Are you going to help them?”

“I never said I wouldn’t,” he reminded her gently. Tinystar blinked evenly. “We shall see. Russetstar knows that we are willing. It’s up to her to remember herself - but if you spoke to her as you spoke to me just now, it won’t be long.” He smiled at her. “Unfortunately, we must wait.”

Mistyfoot frowned, disappointment flashing in her pelt. “I get that. I do. But what the both of you need to realize is that while you’re worried about us dying, waiting around for the right moment to make the right choice, we’re dying anyway.” She swallowed around a lump in her throat. “And we’re dying feeling like you’ve given up on us.”

Taking a deep breath, she murmured, “I couldn’t live with myself, knowing that.” She met Tinystar’s eyes and saw the stars twinkling in those icy depths. “The Tinystar I know, the one that I’ve looked up to since I was a kit, the one who saw me as more than my mother... I know he would feel the same.”

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Ok ok, but the prompt “if you die, I die! Don’t you get that?!” with Peter yelling it at Tony 😂😂

Fine. Fine. Yes. Let's reverse it. Another mini!

874 words, a little more angsty with a hurt Tony Stark and a very passionate Peter Parker. Enjoy!! :D [Click here for a reversed use of this prompt]

If You Die... Part. 2.

As Tony came back to awareness the first thing he noticed was the incessant beeping of a heart monitor. It was one tone after another, in two second intervals. Beep… Beep… Beep... He tried to turn away from it, but he couldn’t get his body to cooperate. He was exhausted in a way he’d never felt before. His limbs felt like lead and his eyes refused to open. 

For a few minutes, he simply laid there mildly aware of his surroundings but lacking the energy to interact with them. Beep… Beep… Beep… The sound was starting to get on his nerves. He wished it would stop. He tried to clench his fist but managed nothing more than a small twitch of his finger. His forehead creased slightly in concentration. Another two fingers moved, flexing upward and dropping back down to the sheets. That seemed to get the attention of whomever was in the room. His hand was suddenly engulfed by a firm warm grasp.

“-ister Stark?” Tony used all his strength to turn towards the voice. His head moved marginally but he managed to crack an eye open. “Mr. Stark?” As his vision focused he was able to see Peter hovering above him.

He parted his dry lips and pressed his sandpaper tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Kid?” he rasped. It came out in barely a whisper. But he was certain Peter heard it. His kid’s hand tightened around his own and tears started to break free from his eyes.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter leaned forward until his head was resting heavily on his chest. Hot tears were soaking into his shirt and wanted nothing more than to comfort his kid. He felt more alert with his eyes open and his strength was slowly returning. He pulled his heavy hand out of Peter’s grasp and repositioned it so he could wrap his fingers around his kid’s wrists.

“I’m right here, Buddy,” he murmured, while fighting his other arm off of the mattress. Eventually, he managed and was able to get his hand to the back of his kid’s head. “I’m right here.”

“You almost weren’t!” Peter stood up, sniffed and ran his free hand over his cheeks. “You almost- You almost died, Mr. Stark!”

A painful lump formed in his throat. He looked at the bleached-white sheets and tried to swallow past it. “But I didn’t.”

“But you could have!” Peter shouted. Fresh tears started to flow. That time, he didn’t try to stop them. “The doctors said- they said you might not- We almost lost you!”

Tony licked his dry lips and coughed. Seconds later, a nurse walked into the room, raised his bed and offered him some water. Once he’d had a few sips, she started tugging at the various tubes and wires. She shined a light in his eyes and started asking questions. He answered them with an absentminded nod or shake of his head. His gaze had yet to leave Peter. Even from across the room he could see his kid’s puffy eyes and tear streaks cheeks,

The nurse finished with him and started talking to Peter. He couldn’t hear what she was saying but he could see his kid nod his head. Then, the nurse was gone and Peter returned to his bedside still sniffling. 

“You can’t do this again,” Peter said, his voice eerily calm. He gathered a shuddering breath and pressed his lips into a tight thin line.  “I can’t- you were in a coma for three days! You can’t-”

All of a sudden Peter’s anger and upset finally made sense. Tony’s eyes momentarily winded in response. Three days was a long time to wait for someone to wake up. “I’m sorry, Bud. I never-”

“You can’t die!” Peter shouted loudly enough to make Tony flinch. “If you die, I die! Don’t you get that?” His fists balled up by his sides as his face crumpled in anguish. “You- you’re the only one I have left!”

Not quite understanding, Tony pulled his brows together. “You have May, your friends and-”

“They aren’t you! I need you, Mr. Stark!” Peter’s voice cracked on the last syllable. He ran his hands down his face and crossed arms defensively over his chest.  “I’ve already lost my mom and dad! Then I lost Uncle Ben too! I need you!”

tony felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. “Pete. Honey-”

“Stop it! Stop- Don’t patronize me!” The anger didn’t last long. Within seconds Peter was back to leaning over the bed, one arm wrapped around Tony's stomach. “Just- next time let someone else make the sacrifice play! Because, selfish or not- I need you here!”

His kid was crying again and Tony could feel his own eyes starting to water. “Oh, kid. That’s not- that’s not selfish, Buddy. That’s-” 

Peter squeezed him tightly enough that it was starting to hurt. He didn’t complain. He simply held on with equal ferocity, 

When Peter let go, it was so he could look Tony in the eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.

Tony smiled and placed his hands on either side of his kid’s damp cheeks. “I- I love you too, Pete. So much. And I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: angst???

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

it’s the OTHER moment youve all been waiting for

part forty

❝ CRISIS ❞

TUESDAY — AUGUST 21 — 11:49AM

BENTLEY LIKED QUARANTINE MORE THAN ACTUAL SCHOOL.

It was actually much, much nicer. He got to do his work at his own pace, got to spend the whole day with his friends, didn’t have to deal with Tyler, and didn’t have the stress of classrooms and late bells and all the things that stressed him out about public high school. He didn’t have to wake up at six every morning, didn’t have to change out of his pajamas. The only thing remotely similar to a normal school day was the fact that a nurse came in every evening to change the filters in Bellamy’s machines. But it was quick, and she never spoke to anyone else. Everything was peaceful.

The Dad 1, Dad 2, Dad 3 group chat was blowing up again with Dick, Jason, and Bruce all checking up on them in varying intervals. Asking if they were sick, how they were feeling, if they liked the quarantine, what they were doing in class. The normal stuff. 

Chloe had stopped texting Bentley almost three days ago, now. He didn’t want to bother her if she didn’t want to talk to him. He asked how she was feeling and she left it on read, so he just… y’know. Didn’t text her again. What was he supposed to do? Blow up her phone?

Vera and Layla facetimed and called him often, to talk about everything and nothing and do classwork together. Vera never spoke about her brother, not even about the funeral that Layla had told him she went to, or about being drunk that night, so he never did, either. He just talked to them about whatever it was they brought up. Which was usually, like, being mad that theater was canceled, or that Vera’s band couldn’t practice, or that figure skating was off for the quarantine. Things like that.

Overall, it was pretty… chill. Bentley preferred it over speed walking across campus to seven classes anyways. His teachers had very few expectations — as long as he got the week’s work done by Friday, he was good. So pretty much all the other days he decided he'd do nothing at all.

Like today. It was Tuesday, but he was waiting until Thursday and Friday to worry about work, so he was sitting at the dining table at almost noon, playing a mean game of uno with Asten, Varian, Koa, and Bellamy. They’d played it four times already and Bellamy had won every single game. He was sitting in a living room chair at the head of the table, with Varian and Koa on the bench to his right, and Bentley and Asten on the bench to his left.

“I’m starting to think this is rigged,” Koa muttered with a sigh, bluish-green eyes flicking across the fan of cards in his hands. “All my cards are the same color.”

“It’s probably because you can’t shuffle,” Varian shot back with a playful glare, and Koa gaped across the table at him.

“I’m the best shuffler here! I can even do the bridge thing!”

“Being able to do the bridge thing does not make you a good shuffler,” Varian retorted.

Bentley glanced at Bellamy, who was right across from them with a small smile tugging up on his lips. Bentley smiled, too -- it made him really happy to see Bellamy feeling safe enough to smile and laugh with all his roommates. Bentley remembered how difficult it had been for him, moving into the Manor with everybody. The strange combination of trusting them immediately but also being terrified they’d end up like his dad… was hard. It took him a long time to get used to that sort of thing -- trusting people, being with them all the time, sharing parts of him he typically wasn’t allowed to or had been too afraid to share before. He didn’t know Bellamy’s story, and he didn’t plan on knowing it unless Bellamy wanted to share it. But he was glad that, whatever his past may have been, that he felt safe with them.

Amidst Koa and Varian’s bickering, Bellamy reached into the center and put his final card on top of the deck, again. “I won.”

Varian and Koa both silenced and glanced over at him. Then Varian exclaimed: “Are you serious?!”

“I think he’s a magician or something,” Koa added.

Bentley glanced up at the soft clack of a door, eyes catching on Valor and Rockie as they came out of their bedroom for the first time that day. He expected them to still be in their pajamas, but they were both fully dressed -- Rockie in black jeans and a black shirt, and Valor in joggers and a big blue hoodie that covered his wings.

“And where are you two going during quarantine?” Koa questioned, glancing backwards at them with a mischievous look on his face.

“On a city adventure,” Was Valor’s cheeky response. “Wanna come with?”

“No thanks, I’m trying not to catch the plague,” Koa replied, turning back to the table and gathering everybody’s cards again. “My immune system is such trash that I catch anything that even thinks about going around. It was a literal miracle that I didn’t get sick when Varian did.”

Valor didn’t say anything, but pointed at Varian, who shook his head immediately at the very thought of stepping out of their dorm. “I am not going to risk catching that again. I thought I was going to die.”

Valor scrunched his face up, then shrugged. “Any takers? If not, we're heading out without you.”

Bentley glanced at them, his eyes catching on Rockie's green ones for a second. There was something in them. Something subtle, and he didn't really know what it was, but it was there.

“I’ll go,” He muttered, and Asten glanced over at him, as did everyone else. “I like going to the city. Just let me put some clothes on.”

Valor shrugged. “Okay."

Bentley glanced over at Asten, who was right next to him, vaguely moving his hands under the table. Is that okay?

I think they’d both take a bullet to protect you, Asten signed back. Just reply if I text you. Ringer on.

Bentley gave him a thumbs-up as he hopped up from the table, hurrying into their room and changing into jeans and an old red hoodie of Tim’s. He shoved some money in his phone case if he would need it, and made triple sure his ringer was on before he journeyed back out to the living area.

Apparently, Rockie had made and drank an entire cup of coffee in that time, because he was washing a mug in the sink when Bentley came back out. (He swore he was in his room for less than five minutes.) Valor was standing against the wall next to the door, looking at something on his phone.

“Ready?” He questioned, and when Bentley nodded, he put his phone in his pocket and swung the door open.

“Don’t get sick!” Varian called as the three of them filed into the hallway. Rockie, who was the last one to leave, gave them a two finger salute.

“If we do, we’ll make sure to bring it home to you!”

There was a series of muted groans that came in response as they closed the door. 

As soon as they were in the hallway, cut off from the dorm, Rockie's entire demeanor changed startlingly fast. His entire body seemed to deflate, his posture going closed off, eyes immediately dulling as he brought a hand up to rub at one of his temples.

Bentley blinked, glancing at Valor, who was also watching him with a visible level of concern.

“Are you okay...?" Bentley asked quietly, falling into step on the right side of Rockie as they made their way down the hall, Valor staying tight to his other side.

“Yeah,” He shrugged. Bentley wasn't too convinced, though -- he seemed to have lost color just since the door had closed, and his entire mood was different. Like he had taken off a mask or something.

Bentley didn’t say anything, just sort of looked at him. 

Rockie glanced over at him, made eye contact for a second, then looked away and sighed: “Okay, well, I feel like absolute shit. But it's fine.”

"We're going to pick up a refill of his medicine," Valor butted in, glancing over at Bentley. "He gets grumpy without it."

"Feel like shit on it. Feel like shit without it. The pharmaceutical industry is laughing in my face right now," Rockie muttered.

Bentley wasn't sure what to say, so he didn't.

"Exhibit one," Valor continued, gesturing to Rockie, who rolled his eyes. The three of them stopped at the elevator, which was new because Bentley had never actually taken the elevator up to their room before. Ever since he, Asten, and Bruce took the stairs, that was always just what he did.

"Is your stomach feeling bad again?" Bentley questioned, glancing at Rockie as he mashed the elevator button.

"Like it's dying. Among other things. Like my will to live,"

Bentley, again, didn't say anything. He and Valor caught each other's eyes, but unsurprisingly, the older boy didn't seem very caught off-guard. (After all, he was Rockie's roommate.)

"Exhibit two," He continued.

Bentley stayed mostly quiet, venturing into the elevator with them without saying anything. Rockie usually didn't talk much, but then, his silence was shrouded with something different -- something cold and mean that made Bentley sort of wary to speak at all.

Valor didn't seem to care, though, because while they were waiting for the elevator to reach the bottom floor, he shoved Rockie's shoulder so hard he collided with Bentley. "Lighten up."

Bentley halfway expected him to, like, punch Valor in the face or something, but he didn't.

"Sorry," Was what he said instead.

The elevator dinged, and they all stepped out.

The lobby of their building was empty, as expected. It smelled like sterile cleaner, and the sun was shining brightly outside, making the entire room much brighter than the fancy light fixtures on the ceiling ever could.

The three of them went off campus the same way they always did -- through the parking lots behind their buildings. The entire school was, more or less, dead. Not a soul was venturing outside but them. Bentley had almost expected there to be security to keep kids from leaving their buildings, but there wasn't a single human being in sight across the entire part of campus he could see.

Didn't the website brag about security? How come he hadn't seen any since he'd gotten there?

The walk through New York City was far less exciting than normal, probably because Bentley just kind of kept looking at Rockie to make sure he was okay. Even if the walk was kind of weird, he didn't hate it -- He wasn't sure why, but Rockie had specifically singled him out in the dorm and basically stared him into coming with them. Bentley would be lying if he didn't say he was a little bit honored to be chosen to tag along when Rockie was 'feeling like absolute shit.'

That's about when it dawned on him why exactly Rockie may have invited him, and it made the whole thing just a little bit worse.

He could've invited him along because he wanted to be with someone else who dealt with her.

Something mean seemed to bloom in Bentley's chest when he realized that maybe his medicine wasn't the only problem there. (And if she was part of it, why couldn't she just leave them the hell alone?!)

They didn't go to Times Square on the way like they had the other day. Which Bentley didn't mind -- because it was so loud and bright and so much there that it would probably bother Rockie if he had a headache of any kind. It was actually a little shorter to go straight to the sketchy pharmacy than it had been going through Times Square.

Bentley and Valor floated around the building as Rockie got his medicine, then left with him, just like Bentley had the first time. Except much quieter.

They were about halfway out of the city when Bentley realized they weren't going the same way they'd come.

"Where are we going?" He questioned softly, and both Rockie and Valor glanced over at him.

"To see Georgia," Rockie replied flatly, looking forward again. Bentley pretended he didn't want to cringe. "She's working today."

(Rockie was going to see her at his worst, little did he know she was...)

Bentley chose not to think about it, as best he could.

They made it to the diner a a few minutes later. It was hustling and bustling like the rest of New York -- Bentley could see waitresses buzzing around on roller skates, delivering food to tables through the window.

The three of them went inside, greeted by a myriad of smells and the overlapping chatter of a few dozen people spread across the interior of the building. Bentley glanced at all of the waitresses that were rolling around, but... none of them were Georgia.

He wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

Rockie seemed to have the same dilemma -- he kept looking around for a few minutes from the doorway, then went in and actually glanced into one of the doors off to the side (a break room or kitchen, maybe?) Before he came back over to them with a perplexed look on his face.

"She isn't here," He stated simply.

Bentley said nothing, and Valor hummed thoughtfully. "Do you think she goes outside for her breaks?"

Rockie shrugged, but went back out the door anyways, Valor and Bentley staying close behind. He looked around the crowded sidewalks, and when he didn't see her, turned to go check the alleys on the side of the building that wasn't on a street corner; where the dumpsters and stuff were, Bentley guessed.

He was too busy looking at his feet and wondering where Georgia was that he ran directly into Rockie's back when he stopped dead in his tracks at the mouth of the alley.

Bentley glanced up at him, and then in the alley, where he was looking, and-

Georgia was there, in her little waitress dress and rollerskates, her hair straightened instead of braided, and she was...

...kissing someone else. A guy, in a uniform similar to her's.

Bentley seemed to malfunction, all of his signals firing at once when he realized that he was there and they were there and Rockie was there and he was looking at them and it was all really happening right then-

"...Georgia?"

Again, Rockie's response surprised him. As opposed to absolutely exploding or going off the rails, he just... whispered. It was just one word but Bentley practically felt the years of betrayal building up behind it like a dam that was holding too much water. When he listened, Rockie's heartbeat was through the roof.

Georgia immediately turned on her heel, shoving the guy away from her with all of her might with a sudden: "Oh my God!"

And they all just stared at each other. Georgia stared at Rockie, and he stared at her, and Bentley stared at Rockie, and Valor's eyes flicked between them all, and everyone was quiet.

"Wha-what are you doing here? B... Babe?" She asked, stuttering and stumbling all over her words, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of her neck.

"Babe?!" The other guy (that Bentley thought should really go away now.) asked incredulously. "You didn't tell me you had a-"

"Go back inside," Georgia replied without looking back at him, keeping her stunned, wide eyes glued on Rockie. The guy obeyed without protest, even slamming the door behind him.

And then they all just stared some more.

"Georgia?" He asked again, sort of in disbelief, quiet, but with something else, too, that Bentley couldn't place.

Georgia looked around like she was trying to maybe find a way out of the conversation, and when she came up with nothing, looked back over at them with tears pooling at the bottom of her brown eyes. "Rockie, you... you can't blame me. I can't get anything out of you anymore, you hardly even kiss me..."

"Are you seriously trying to defend yourself right now?" It was Valor who spoke up that time, quiet, too, but with the same tone of voice he used on Tyler Abbott after Koa was hurt.

Rockie just looked at her. And Bentley thought he might start crying, but he didn't. It was just nothing -- this freakishly blank look on his face, like he was rethinking absolutely everything he'd ever said and done.

"Rockie, please, c'mon..." Georgia continued, and she even had the audacity to come up closer to him, a few tears falling down her face. "I can't-"

Everything happened really fast. Rockie dropped the brown bag from the pharmacy. There was an incredibly quick succession of three click, click, clicks, the clank of something heavy and metal hitting the concrete. Then Rockie had her by the throat, shoving her back against the wall with his bare hand. His glove was on the ground.

And the only thing Bentley could think in that moment was: oh shit.

Rockie's eyes turned this almost hauntingly white color, and so did her's. His hand started to glow like something out of an action movie, and his feet slowly left the ground as he started to levitate a few inches off the concrete, siphoning the power out of her like some kind of leech.

And it was over as fast as it started -- because Valor grabbed him by the shoulders and jerked him off of her, very nearly tossing him to the other side of the alley.

"Stop!" He ordered, glancing between them with a look of pure disgust splayed across his features. He picked up Rockie's glove and held it toward him. "Go back to the school. Now."

Rockie stared at him with his (green again) eyes for a solid ten seconds.

"Until you two can talk about it, go," Valor continued. Taking another step toward Rockie, he whispered: "Please. You aren't in the right headspace for this. Not right now."

Rockie looked at him for another few seconds with that blank, empty look on his face, before he took his glove, clicked it on, and left.

Georgia turned to go, too, but Valor grabbed her by the arm before she could even get two steps off. "Don't fucking move."

And then he pointed at Bentley. "Go with him."

Bentley turned to go, but Valor continued with an audible urgency in his voice: "Bentley, I mean it -- stay with him, don't let him be by himself. Break the damn door if you have to."

So Bentley went.

--

He nearly had to run to keep up with Rockie on the way back to Redwood. Bentley couldn't really focus on anything other than the fact that Valor had been so hellbent on not letting Rockie be alone. He wasn't sure why, but he would be damned if he didn't do it -- he couldn't screw up when his friends were counting on him for something as simple as company, even if Rockie probably didn't want it.

They both flew up the stairs when they got back to their building, and Bentley could've swore he almost lost him there. Rockie pushed the dorm door open so violently that it slammed against the wall hard enough to probably make a hole in the wainscoting behind it.

Everyone inside jumped -- Varian, Bellamy, Asten, and Koa were still playing uno but abruptly stopped when he came in, and Bellamy jumped out of his seat and onto his feet like he thought Rockie was coming to personally murder him.

Bentley hardly had time to close the door behind them before Rockie's bedroom door slammed with a wham! loud enough to shake the walls of the entire dorm.

And then it was quiet.

Bentley glanced over at the table, barely hearing the quiet questions Varian and Koa asked him. He only looked at Asten, who already seemed to know what was going on and looked absolutely petrified -- kind of like he might vomit on the spot.

Something in Rockie's room shattered.

Bentley turned on his heel and went to the door, repeatedly telling himself that this was what Valor explicitly said to do. He tried the handle and found it unlocked, so he pushed it open, went inside, and closed it back.

The bedroom lights were off, the blackout curtains keeping it pretty dark inside. The bathroom light was on.

Rockie was standing at the sink, not looking in the mirror, just kind of staring down into the basin. There was glass around his feet that Bentley could see the ceiling in. The mirror.

His own heartbeat was sort of loud in his ears (because Rockie really could kill him so fast), but he he inched his way closer to the door anyhow. He didn't know what to say. What the hell was he supposed to say? Why couldn't he think of anything?

When he got close enough, he spotted the mirror above their vanity -- completely shattered to pieces with only a few slivers left in the frame, and shards of glass peppering the countertop and sink and floors. Thankfully, there was no blood, due to Rockie's gloves, he guessed.

Bentley looked at him, but all he got was the same empty look from the alley.

Bentley tried to come up with something to say and failed, but it didn't matter anyway, because Rockie just looked at him and immediately started freaking sobbing without any warning at all. The bad kind that was so hard it was dead silent.

Bentley sort of felt like he had whiplash from how fast everything went down, and how fast Rockie's mood changed, and he might've even felt like crying, too, but he didn't.

He just sort of gently grabbed Rockie's arm and tugged on him a little, to get him out of the bathroom because there was glass on everything and he didn't trust him to not accidentally cut himself. He expected him to fight back, but he didn't. He just moved with him. Bentley thought he was actually doing okay at leading him to his bed before Rockie hit the floor only halfway there, and Bentley did, too, because he was holding onto him. But it was okay.

Bentley never left.

--

tag list that KINDA works lmao

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere

@skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

[fever-project]

Succession of the Third Kind - LU AU

The Chain begins to learn about the Downfall Timeline, and the secrets Legend holds. Ao3 Link Here. After the Finish the Prompt thing I did I suddenly got inspired to write this. Well, I’ve been trying to write this before, but the first version was literally just one sentence and the second I just did not like. Focusing on Legend and eventually the doppels once I get to them. The abandoned doppel is the only one here so far.

This is not sci-fi, unfortunately. There are no aliens. Sorry if the title mislead you into thinking that. Four/Vio’s POV.

Chapter 1 - Four’s Successor

The reveal of Four’s ability to split went far better than he thought it would. Vio looked out at how Wind was running circles around Red, his kid curiousness taking full force as he asked them loads of questions. Red tried his best to answer them, but he kept looking at Vio for help. He was the smart one after all.

But Vio preferred to just sit down and read a book, rather than interact with people. Blue was arguing with Warriors and Twilight about something stupid, Time and Sky were off to the side and looking after Red and Wind, and Green was chatting with everybody else.

Except for Legend, who was leaning against the next tree over. Staring at him.

“Are you wondering why I’m not with the others?” Vio asked without looking up from his book, but he wasn’t reading anymore.

“Kinda,” Legend answered, still not looking away from him. Does he even blink? “I’m just thinking.”

“Hmm. Nothing important it seems.”

“You don’t know that.”

Vio sighed and closed his book, looking over at Legend. His face was blank, blinking seemingly manually at odd intervals. Did he always do that or was that a new thing? Hopefully it was a new thing.

“Are you okay?” Vio asked, more confused than concerned.

“Eh, I’m fine. You?”

“Obviously,” Vio stood up, “But you seem like you’re trying not to fall asleep or something. No one’s forcing you to stay awake you know?”

“I think I’m your successor,” Legend dumped out of nowhere. Vio blinked a few times, stumbling back. He knew that they obviously weren’t on the end of the timeline compared to the others, but he couldn’t yet figure out where in the timeline he was. If Legend only just figured it out-

“You have the Four Sword, don’t you?” Vio asked, having regained his composure. Legend slowly got off from the tree, stretching, looking away from Vio. He waited for the veteran to speak, he was patient.

Vio looked back over to the others, the joyous scene continuing from before. He remembered that Four still hadn’t revealed the whole shrinking thing, and wondered about what would happen when he did. They’d probably let him ride on their shoulders, and coo at how small he was. Yeah, that’s what they do.

“Happy at the scene, or that I could be your successor?” Legend asked, making Vio straighten up. He didn’t know he was smiling.

“The scene. And we still haven’t confirmed that you’re my successor.”

“That’s fair. Just depends on whether you’re…” he trailed off, grimacing. He looked over at the others, staring at Time for a bit longer than the others before continuing. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” Legend stared at Vio until he nodded his head in agreement, “But I know of the Hero of Time. He was before me, but I’m not sure if he was before or after you.”

“Well I’ve never heard of him so-“ Vio stopped abruptly. If Legend wasn’t his successor, “-Is Time my successor?”

“Could be,” Legend had the same blank look on his face as he stretched again, “But he clearly never heard of you.”

“But you have?“

Legend makes eye contact with him, briefly. His eyes carry as certain sadness to them as he spoke, “I’ve…been to your tomb.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Well that’s not too surprising, I guess,” Vio waved off the way his stomach had dropped, “Of course I’m dead by your time.”

“So was the Hero of Time.”

“Now how long we both were dead is the important question.”

“I…think you could’ve been dead for longer.”

“Then Time’s my successor.”

“Seems like it.”

“And you’re his.”

Legend flinches. Vio doesn’t understand why he would. Was he just wrong about that then?

“Are you Twilight’s-“

“Third option.”

“Wha-“

“Third. Option.”

Vio’s brain works quickly to figure out what Legend’s trying to say. Twilight is one of the options, Time is also an option, and then there’s Wind. But he obviously isn’t Wind’s successor, and Time and Twilight are somewhat close in time. Twilight and Wind are both Time’s successors from two different timelines, but a third timeline could exist. That was the third option.

“A third timeline!” Vio’s eyes widened, a smile encroaching upon his face as he figured it out. Legend laughed heartily.

“Yeah. I was thinking about telling Time after we all figured out the timeline stuff about both Wind and Twi, but…"

“Something happened to the Time before you.”

“Annnd that’s why I’m talking to you now. I’m just hoping you won’t tell Time.”

“So you’re withholding the information you know about me over my head, so I won’t tell, aren’t you?”

A moment of silence passed. Vio looked at Legend right in the eyes, his blank look annoying him. That’s Vio’s thing damn it.

Unexpectedly, Legend laughed, a sly sort of laugh, accompanied with a sly smile. He had to have picked up on Vio’s thirst for knowledge, his need to know more, he had to. He still didn’t know if Legend had the Four Sword. Or what happened with Time. Or why Legend was in his tomb. Vio needed answers. He needs it.

“If I was Blue I would’ve strangled you,” Vio said a nonchalantly as he could.

“Uh huh, sure, sure,” Legend waved his off as he looked at nails, “Listen, I’m telling you this because I can’t tell anyone else. Even though I’m technically Time’s successor, I feel more like I’m your successor. I know more about you and that sword compared to anybody else here. Except you guys of course.”

“…What do you know about it?”

Another moment of silence passed. How annoying. But he must have a reason for this. Vio sat back down on the ground, letting out a sigh. He returned to his book, and a while passed before Legend speaks again.

“So, why are your names so basic?”

Well that definitely wasn’t what Vio was expecting. Might as well answer this since it’s not like the veteran would answer any questions he had. Not like he had anything better to do. Might get him to open up a bit more as well.

“We were around ten and Red couldn’t think of anything better,” Vio closed his book again, “At least I think it was Red, I could be mistaken. What names would you choose?” Legend scratched his chin, thinking. Whether he was actually thinking or not, Vio couldn’t tell.

“I…would name us after the goddesses,” Legend began, already baffling Vio yet again, “The red one would be Din, green would be Farore, blue would be Nayru, and purple would Hylia, now that I know of her because of those guys.” Legend gestures over at Wild, who was currently running around with Warriors and Red, all of whom had Fire Rods, with Sky, Twilight, and Green chasing after them. “Should we check up on them?”

“Us,” Vio said simply, “Name us.” Legend made a strangled type of noise. A Freudian slip, was that what’s it was called? Vio looked at Legend directly in the eyes again, the blank stare now gone, uneasiness clear as day.

“I never used the Four Sword,” Legend quickly spat as he crossed his arms, looking away from Vio’s inquisitive stare.

“I never said you did,” Vio said with a small smirk, “Who knows, it could be something different, yet similar to my experience. You are my successor after all.”

“…Yeah, I guess I am.”

Their conversation ended there.

▲

“Alright, whose time is this?” Time asked. The group looked around the forest they were now in. It was a pleasant and rather normal looking one, save for the logs large enough for a person to walk through and the random swords on pedestals dotted around the place. The one next to Four was made out of cardboard, for some reason.

“It’s my time,” Legend said. That immediately excited Four. The last time they were in his time, it was brief, only being in his house for a few hours as they met Ravio. Then the black blooded monsters appeared as well as the portal, so they left without even seeing most of Hyrule.

And now Four knows this is his future, one of his futures, at least. He was a little curious about where his tomb would be. A little sacred as well.

But first they needed to get out of the forest.

“We’re in the Lost Woods, north of Kakariko Village. And don’t even bother with the swords-they’re worthless,” Legend said, annoyance tainting his voice for some reason.

“These remind me of my first attempts at making a sword,” Four remarked, poking one of the swords, and it wobbled like paper. Actually, this one was made out of paper. Why? Who would do this?

“How likely are we to get lost in these ‘Lost Woods?’” Wild asked, leaning over Legend, who scoffed.

“Not likely, it not that big,” Legend grabbed Wild and went over to grab Hyrule, pulling them both along. “Just follow me, I know the way out. We’ll be in Kakariko in no time at all.”

“Thank you Legend,” Time spoke, “Don’t wander off you lot, just follow the veteran.”

And so they did. Four held the back with Twilight and Wind, Warriors and Sky near Time, and Wild and Hyrule were with Legend.

The vet lead them through the logs, the occasional fucking crows being the only monsters they encountered. It was a nice and short walk all things considered. Four could see Wild pick up a few swords that were made from actual sword materials, and Four got a couple as well. They were shoddy, to put it nicely. But he could probably salvage something if he had the right tools. Soon enough they were out of the woods.

“Alright guys, we’ve made it,” Legend announced once they all filed out. Four could see the village in the near distance. It would likely take less than an hour to get there.

“Woohoo!” Wind cheered once he stepped out, “When are we going to your house Leg?”

Warriors snicked, as he always does when someone calls Legend ‘Leg’, “Yes Leg, where is your home and your rabbit-themed friend?”

Legend groaned, “It’s east of the village. Let’s just stop there and restock or whatever.” He slumped over as he made his way towards the village, mostly ignoring how Wild and Hyrule tried to talk to him.

“Do you think he’s okay?” Wind asked as he leaned over to Four and Twilight.

“He could be tired,” Twilight looked over at the vet, “But he has been acting strange lately.”

“Yeah! Ever since…” Wind trailed off as he looked over at Four. “I-I mean who knows when he started being a grump you know-“

“Wind, it’s fine,” Four sighed, “It’s…a bit complicated.”

“He’s your successor isn’t he?” Warriors suddenly appeared behind them, causing them all to jump.

“Gah! Wars!” Twilight lightly slapped Wars’ arm, glaring at him. He chuckled and rubbed the back of his head nervously.

“Whoops, sorry,” Warriors said with a smile, “I just saw him talking with the purple you for a while, so I assumed you must’ve had an important conversation.”

“Like Legend being Four’s successor?!” Wind looked very excited at the thought, before his face scrunched up, “But when are you guys in the timeline? Probably before Time, right?”

Four shrugged, putting on the best poker face he could. Which was much easier when it was just Vio doing it.

“How about we talk about this after we find a place to rest,” Twilight reasoned, “Also, we’re falling behind.”

The four of them rushed to catch up with the others.

Four soon figured out he was right about it not going to take too long to get to Kakariko. The streets were lively, the people were nice, although a one did run away from them-from Legend. Legend proudly stated that the woman had once reported him to the knights after he was framed for kidnapping the princess, when he was ten years old nonetheless. Now she was way too scared to even go near him, and everyone seemed to hate her. Four also hated her now.

Everyone restocked on their resources, and Four visited the blacksmith with Legend and his posse. The blacksmith and his family were very nice, not looking down on Four like most blacksmiths usually do. Four and Wild gave him the swords to to melted down, which wouldn’t give much useable materials because of the way they were made. But Four didn’t really mind that. He and Wild payed the blacksmith, they all said their goodbyes, and went out to find the others.

Four and Legend didn’t speak to each other the entire time they were there.

Night soon arrived, and with it, the gaggle of heroes arrived at Legend’s house.

“I’m home Ravio!” Legend called out as he opened the door. Immediately, Ravio’s little bird, Sheerow, flew right into his face. Some Links-especially Wars-laughed at how much Legend was taken aback by it.

“Mr. Hero! You’re back!” Radio called from within the house, “Come in, come in. Oh! And I see your family has came along again as well.”

The group headed in, and noticed that the place was a lot neater. It looked like there was slightly less stuff, but most of it was there, either organized in neat boxes or large, nice display cases. Everyone immediately started to wander about, each trying way too hard to stop themselves from touching everything. Four did not know why they were like this. Four did not know why he was like this.

“Did you move my stuff?” Legend sounded like he was trying to hold back his anger. His hooded friend shrunk back, holding his hands up in defense. Sheerow was now perched on top of his head.

“Listen, listen. I can explain, alright? I simply reorganized everything because I kept tripping on everything,” Legend shrunk back this time, a bit embarrassed, “It’s simply safer this way.”

“Some stuff is missing,” Wild muttered. How he noticed, Four didn’t know.

“Oh! I put some things in the basement. I also made a basement!” Ravio said cheerfully, Sheerow chirping along.

“I wonder if there’s anywhere to sleep,” Sky asked.

“I wonder too!” Ravio said, still somehow chipper, “I have made myself a cot to sleep on,” he gestured over to the dark purple mattress at the uppermost left corner of the room, “I don’t know where your bed went Mr. Hero, but I forgot to ask you before you left.”

“You didn’t find the attic?” Legend asked. He was fiddling with a yellow cape with red accents.

“There’s an attic?”

Legend sighed as he strode towards the upper right corner, slinging the cape on. In a swift motion he pulled out his sword, half-swording it and hooked the cross-guard onto something. A quick pull and a set of stair fell down to the floor.

“That’s the attic,” he stated simply. A couple of them oohed and aahed. “Now, I’m going to sleep in my room. Have fun!” In an instant, Legend jumped up, higher than usual and it quickly clicked in Four’s mind that it was because of the cape.

Everyone was surprised, no being able to react in time to stop Legend from going up into the attic and pulling up the ladder, cackling like a mad man as some of them-mostly Ravio, Time, and Sky-tried to get him to stop and be normal. It didn’t work as Legend was successful in locking the attic door behind him, and no one could unlock it.

Four noticed something on the wall near the door hatch. He resolved to check it out later.

“…Well,” Ravio twiddled his thumbs, “I can make some room for some sleeping bags! Free of charge, since your Link’s…family.”

“I don’t wanna sleep in a sleeping bag again!” Wild and Wind both whined.

“Ravio,” Warriors snapped to get his attention, “Is there any space in the basement?”

“Well, yes, but it’s cold down there. I uh, I can-was going to move these boxes down there, but if some of you help, I’ll give you all discounts for future purchases!”

“Well-“ Time began before being quickly cut off by Wars.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t we help? Come on men! Let’s assist our merchant friend.” The rest of the Links sighed. Of course they would help but it not like they wanted to move boxes all night before they could go to sleep. It’s not like it would take too long with all of them working together, they just wanted to go to sleep as soon as possible.

Legend was a lucky man indeed.

After clearing enough space, everyone obviously went straight to sleep. Ravio was the only with the bed, and it was clear that he felt a bit bad about it. Would’ve felt even more bad if Warriors didn’t keep encouraging him the whole time. What was the deal with that? But nobody really questioned him, because fatigue was starting to get to all of them.

But Four couldn’t sleep. He said he’d go out for a walk before he did and no one objected. In reality, he was going for a bit more than just a simple night walk.

It didn’t take long to find one. A Stump Entrance. A Minish Portal. Jackpot.

Four stepped on the stump and shrunk down, falling in between the cracks of the wood. He had missed jumping on the mushrooms within these Stump Entrances. The tiny stones that once framed the portal door with were worn and chipped, maintenance having stopped long ago.

But the Minish were here, he knew it. Where they’ve gone now, he didn’t know. He at least hoped that they were still around long after he was dead. They were no longer in Hyrule, or this part of Hyrule. As he made his way back to Legend’s house, he wonded how Ezlo was doing, what could’ve happened to him. He thought about Vaati, who once was a Minish as well. Did Legend know about him? Had he ever even heard of the Minish?

These thoughts continued once he finally got to the home. There was a small door near the front door, big enough for only Minish to go through. At least they were still here when the house was built, at the very least.

Four had to be very careful when traversing around the home. It was like a maze to avoid his sleeping companions, to not wake him up. After a terrifying time of almost getting smacked by wondering hands, he finally reached the corner the attic door was at. And Four silently cheered when he noticed the very worn engraved steps going up the wall, with a tiny hole up on the top. He was very glad for his Grip Ring, but he still almost fell down numerous times. But he eventually got to the attic.

The first thing that pulled his attention wasn’t Legend, no. It was a mask that he’d only seen before in the hands of Wild. Four now understood why Legend thought it was one of a kind. And now he understood it really was dark magic.

It was covered by a glass case, hanging upon the top of wall. Shaped like triangle, fitting perfectly between the roofs. The dark magic still seeped through, barely, but Four could feel it in his tiny form. He forced himself to look away, for fear that it’ll convince him to try to covet it’s power, like how Time had once described the legend behind it. The old man knew more about that mask than just that legend, even if tried to make it seem like he didn’t. Why did Legend have this mask? And how did he get it? Was it all connected to Time?

Four turned his focus to Legend, the scene before him being a surprising sight. He was sitting on a wooden stool, a stone statue the same size as the vet in front of him. It looked like him too, except for the outfit and hair being much more simple and blocky. It was chipped in various places, and Legend was repairing them at a rapid pace. It must’ve looked a lot worse before he started working on it, Four knew.

The statue had an odd mask on where its face would be, two large hollow holes for the eyes and a smaller one for the mouth. There was…an aura, around it, that Four could sense. Not really an actual aura, per se, but a feeling, a feeling that made it seem more than just just a statue. Like it was alive, yet resting, somewhat similar to an Eyegore Statue and yet very, very different. It was like it was in a deep slumber, like it was never alive to begin with yet it’s heart was beating proudly.

An odd sight for Four’s eyes.

Four wandered about the attic, looking around Legend’s quaint room. The closet was slightly ajar, enough for Four to see what was inside even if he wasn’t Minish size. But if he was normal size, he wouldn’t be able to jump inside of it. There were a lot of colorful outfits inside, and he felt a bit overwhelmed. The closet was also much bigger on the inside, like an actual walk-in closet. Legend really did love his magic items huh. The outfits were also probably magic items as well, due to the fact that Four couldn’t ever imagine Legend wearing full body tights. One of them was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen, and the other was clearly based on Tingle.

There was also one that looked a bit like Time’s armor, with a mask hung next to it that had the markings that Time had on his face, except the red markings were under both of the eyes. The eyes are painted to be entirely white, an odd, but important choice to note down in Four’s opinion. But it was yet another thing related to Time, Legend’s actual predecessor. Yet he told him that he felt more like Four was his predecessor, despite having so many things connected to Time. He still hasn’t found the Four Sword. And despite his efforts, he couldn’t find it within the closet. He did, however, find a number of different tunics in different colors. Most of them green, but there was a certain set of tunics that caught his eye.

The tunics were simple, each having matching, lighter shirts of the same color. There was a swirl on the belt buckles, reminiscent of Wind’s. There was a red one, a green one, a blue one, and a purple one, the last one looking newer compared to the rest.

Before Four could question why that was, Legend suddenly opened the closet. The tiny blacksmith quickly ran to hide underneath one of the many different robes. Peaking from underneath the robe, he saw Legend grabbing the purple tunic he was just looking at and walked out. Four scrambled to follow him as quietly and sneakily as he could.

Legend thankfully didn’t notice the tiny hero behind him as he walked over to the statue, now fully repaired in such a short time. Or it could’ve been a long time, spread out across many months or many many years. He put the clothes onto the statue, an anxious look on his face as he did so. Four was also a bit anxious, deciding to wait this out before tying to figure out what exactly was going on.

Legend cheered silently as he finished dressing the statue. Four found himself cheering alongside him.

“Looking good Hylia,” Legend whispered with a wide smile, “Hylia. Yeah, that’s a good name for you.” He sat down on his stool, examining the statue from there. Four inched his was towards the hole near the door, since it seemed like Legend was almost done with this.

“I just need to figure out how to make you like the other two,” the other two colors, Four noted, “But I don’t really want to go back to Hytopia. Hmm…” Legend bit his lip as he thought about what to do. Four was finally at the hole, standing in front of it. Without a warning sign of any kind, Legend glanced over to the attic door, to where Four was.

The both of them froze. Legend definitely noticed the colorful little speck that stood out like a sore thumb against the wooden floor. The vet’s eyes were wide, but didn’t move much other than that. Four didn’t want to move at all, his mind racing on what to do now. Legend kept staring at him, wide-eyed and unblinking, for the longest time. What was less than a minute felt like hours as Four became more and anxious about what his friend would do.

Legend inhaled sharply as he pressed his lips together, leaning back and closing his eyes.

“Well then,” Legend spun towards the statue, leaning forwards, propping up his head with his hands, “I suppose I could figure out something with the Four Sword. That could help. But that’s something for another day, don’t you think?”

Four fervently nodded, but he didn’t think Legend could see that. Either way, he then ran out out the attic, slowing his fall down with his Roc’s Cape. He was able to glide away a good distance, soon able to go through the small door, go to Minish Portal, turn back to normal size, and return back to house through the normal door. As quietly as he could, he wormed his way into his sleeping bag.

He couldn’t fall asleep. All he could do was wait for night to pass, and process what just happened.

His shadow was definitely laughing at him.

[cinnanaan]

I’m revamping this at a later time, so you can have this version.

Elias Bouchard rounded the corner of the tight hall. It was dark, and cramped. Black lights illuminated neon markings on the walls. He passed by black painted doors. Thick paint chipping away, to reveal chunks of green, or deep red underneath. Each door had an illuminated neon painted symbol. A bloody knife in bright pink. A theater masquerade mask in orange on the next door. Two faces, one with eyes open, one with eyes closed on the door opposite.

All around him were the muffled sounds of pleasure. Breathy little moans. Muted sounds of begging. The thwack of something being slapped.

Elias ignored it all. Keeping his eyes on the door at the end of the hall.

Fresh black paint, against a striking illuminated neon green eye. Wide open, and watching him approach.

Elias swallowed. The warmth that always came with keeping this appointment settled firmly between his legs. He smirked, and straightened his tie, as he came to stand before the door.

He raised a hand, and knocked lightly twice.

“You may enter,” a voice called.

The door opened easily, and Elias felt his mounting excitement in a shiver down his thighs.

The room was well lit. The walls were dark, highlighted by a deep red glow in intervals. Various toys lined the walls. Whips, vibrators, gags, mostly black, but some colored a soft pink. All framed by heavy curtains. The poster bed off to the left of the room, was large, with shiny black sheets. A metal chair sat across from it, restraints sat loose on the arms and front chair legs, ready for use.

But across from the door. On the other side of the room, stood why Elias was really here.

The owner of this room was short, and had a thin frame. His dark hair, highlighted with hints of white and grey, was loosely braided. The braid hung over his right shoulder. He wore a waist corset, and matching corset collar. Dark colored, the thread the cinched them close a deep red. His legs were covered in dark stalkings. They went all the way up to the garter belts attached to the lacy floral lingerie that adorned his waist. The sole of his black heels was the same deep red, matching the corsets.

His body language told Elias he was already in a mood. And Elias couldn’t hide his excited smile.

“You may shut the door,” the voice commanded.

Elias did as he was told. Shutting the heavy door. But he didn’t move after it thunked close.

“Lock it,” came the next instruction.

Elias felt his cock leak as he clicked the lock.

“Come here,” the voice said after a minute of making Elias stand with his hand still on the lock.

Elias turned, and walked towards the figure. He reached the middle of the room, and heard a sharp, “Stop.”

Elias froze. His cock twitched.

The figure turned slowly. Elias’ insides fluttered as he was fixed with a steely gaze. His braid fell off his shoulder as he continued to turn. He faced Elias, arms crossed, riding crop gripped in one hand.

Elias bit his bottom lip as green eyes bore into him.

“Get down on your knees,” commanded the small man.

But Elias was feeling bold today, every bit as much as he was looking forward to this. He ignored the command.

The figure tilted their head, and Elias saw their eyebrow twitch. He dropped his crossed arms, and his heels clicked as he strode up to Elias. Getting right into Elias’ personal space. Even with the tall heels, he was shorter than Elias. Elias looking down at him, as he glared up at Elias.

“On. Your. Knees,” his voice dripped with dominance.

Elias’ everything shivered. He carefully began to lower himself. Careful not to touch his beautiful dominatrix as he finally did what he was told. Lowering himself down onto his knees.

Now he was looking up at the shorter man, and Elias had never felt like he belonged somewhere more in that moment.

“Good boy,” the dom said sweetly, reaching out to caress Elias’ face.

Elias sighed, barely audible, at the touch. Just beginning to lean into the palm, when it was gone.

“Is what I would say, if you were a good boy,” his dom began to walk around him, running the riding crop slowly over his chest. “Sit.”

Elias dropped immediately, sitting with his legs underneath him. Gripping his knees, all too eager to hear how he was not in fact a good boy.

“You missed our last appointment,” his dom said, as he circled Elias, running the riding crop up his chest, over his shoulder, and down his back.

“Mr. Sims, I—-,” Elias started.

Mr. Sims was infront of him immediately. The riding crop slapped sharply under Elias’s chin. Not enough to cause pain, but it made Elias shudder as his chin was raised slowly. He was once again faced with those green eyes. Forced to meet them, despite their utter disappointment in having to look upon him.

“Did I say you could speak?” Mr. Sims said in a low voice.

Elias swallowed, and shook his head.

Mr. Sims sighed, flicking the riding crop out from under Elias’ chin, “Honestly. You miss one session, and you forget whose in charge.”

Mr. Sims took a step back, crossing his arms once more. He stared down his nose at Elias.

“Who is in charge?” Mr. Sims asked. “Speak.”

“You are,” Elias answered quickly.

“Correct. Good boy,” Mr. Sims reached out and gently patted Elias’ head.

A fresh wave of wet spread between Elias’ thighs. But once again, the gentle touch was far too brief. Mr. Sims was once more circling Elias. His heels falling heavy on the carpet.

“Which is why I cannot fathom why you would waste my time,” Mr. Sims shook his head, and Elias stayed still, wishing he would touch him again. “My time is so precious, you know? I could be spending it with someone far more important. Instead of waiting around for you.”

Hit him, punish him, remind him that he belonged on the floor like a dog.

Look at me. Punish me with your gaze.

Mr. Sims was behind him. He leaned down and grabbed a fistful of Elias’ hair. Elias shivered as he felt warm breath on his ear.

“Is my time not precious to you? Speak,” Mr. Sims growled in his ear.

“Your time is very precious, sir,” Elias shuddered out the words loudly.

“Good boy. You are so right,” Mr. Sims released Elias’ hair, and Elias bit back a whine.

Mr. Sims walked slowly around Elias again. He still wasn’t looking at Elias. He looked bored, as he pulled out a black handkerchief from inside his corset, and began to clean the riding crop. Just the end, where it had touched Elias.

“Which is why, dog. I won’t be playing with you today,” Mr. Sims said, keeping his back to Elias.

Elias stopped. Staring at his dom’s back. He made to stand, made to grab him.

“Jon, wait—-,” Elias reached out, but the man whipped around.

“Color?” Jon asked.

Elias swallowed, regretting breaking character, but nodded, “Green.”

Mr. Sims nodded, and swatted away Elias’ outstretched hand. He took a step forward, lifted one of his heels, and brought the red sole down on Elias’ crotch. Elias bit back a shuddering moan as the tip of his cock was pressed down against the floor, the cock cage he always wore before coming here, keeping his shaft from being fully stepped on. Mr. Sims grabbed his hair, and forced his head back. Making sure this lowly dog met it’s master’s eyes. Elias see the small key to his cock cage dangling from one of Mr. Sims’ ears. Glinting in the light.

“This is a lesson, dog. You will come when you are told to come. You are on my time. You are here by my grace. You will learn not to waste my time again,” Mr. Sims hissed, leaning down over Elias.

Elias listened to every word with reverence. He had truly overstepped. Forgotten his place under his master’s heel. Where he belonged.

“Do you understand?” Mr. Sims’ gaze bore into him. “Speak.”

Elias squirmed, nodding, and gave a quick bark.

Mr. Sims smiled gently down at him, “There’s my good boy.”

He released Elias’ hair, and stepped back. He turned away, and walked back to his dresser, where he was standing before. Elias watched him go sadly, but was ready to accept his punishment.

“Stand. You are dismissed,” Mr. Sims called over his shoulder.

Elias got to his feet on shaky legs. A wet spot now visible at the crotch of his pants. He turned, feeling pins and needles down his legs from where they had started to go numb. His cock still strained against his cage as he slowly made his way to the door. He had just unlocked, and opened the door. A couple and their master stood in the hallway, pausing upon the door next to their’s opening.

“Oh, and puppy?” Came Mr. Sims voice.

Elias looked back. Very aware of those green eyes looking at him again, and the gaze of the people outside the door now blatantly listening in.

“No touching yourself until our next session, okay? I’ll know,” Mr. Sim’s smiled at him, and waved good bye.

Elias did as the wave commanded, and stepped outside the door, closing it behind him. He straightened his tie, and pulled his suit jacket down to hide the obvious stain of arousal at his crotch. He ignored the eyes on him of the others in the hall as he raised his chin, and walked down the hall and back around the corner.

[downwiththeficness]

Shadow and Veil-Chapter Forty Five

Summary: Eva Moore’s life was a carefully constructed fiction.  Every day, she did exactly what her mother in law, her husband, and his  best friend expected of her. No mistakes. And, that was going pretty  well for Eva right up until a huge complication literally tried to run  her over. Now, she’s faced with trying to keep the pieces of her life  from falling apart while attempting (and failing) to keep her feelings  for her husband’s new business partner at bay.

A/N: This fic is a sister-fic to A Need So Great and A Need Unleashed.  You do not need to have read ANSG or ANU to read this fic, but there  are Easter eggs from those fics in Shadow and Veil for readers with keen  eyes.  This fic is explicit for canon-compliant blood, gore, violence,  and sex. As such, it is intended for an adult audience, only. A/B/O  dynamics come with their own warning. Anyone under the age of 18 should  not interact with this work. I do not consent to reposting this work to  other platforms. Reblog only to Tumblr.  

Word Count: ~3,300

Start from the beginning    Previous Chapter  Next Chapter  

Masterlist Read on AO3

Three days.

Eva had been in that house for three days.

Mostly, she sat in the armchair and watched the TV with Alexei. Josh, eager to please his friend, had it brought in from somewhere. She’d managed to find a channel with telenovelas (although not her telenovela) and happily explained some of the major plot devices to a dubious Alexei.

During commercial breaks, Eva did what she could for him, although he was further along in his healing than she anticipated. He could walk, if slowly. His range of motion was almost at a hundred percent. And, he was itching to do something other than lie around all day. Eva felt for him. She was also itching to do something. Escape, mainly.

She just couldn’t find her opening.

If it wasn’t Juan at the door, it was another man named Xavier. They rotated on twelve hour shifts at six and six. Eva could only assume it was the same for the man at the door. If that weren’t enough, Myra had a habit of stopping in at regular intervals, claiming that she was checking on her ‘patient’.

She would come in, ask Alexei how he was doing. Sometimes she would give him a small bit of news from town. Every time, she ignored Eva. Which was fine. Eva didn’t much feel like making small talk.

Alexei didn’t seem to sleep. At least, not deeply. He dozed now and again, sometimes falling into a light slumber that lasted maybe twenty minutes. Even then, he startled at the smallest noise. She had to be very, very quiet if she wanted to work on getting the cuff open.

There were no pins like the one Horacio had taught her to use, just a pair of scissors that she’d disassembled. They were small enough to fit into the lock, but not so small that they could catch the hooks to loosen the cuff. It was frustrating work made even more frustrating by the fact that she never got more than a moment to herself.

Eva felt like she was being constantly watched—by Alexei, by Myra, by Juan and Xavier, by Josh. She couldn’t even breathe without someone noticing. It was starting to stress her out, and Eva needed to be calm about this.

After another round of failing to unlock the cuff, Eva tossed the scissors aside and started to look for another tool. The bathroom was full of gauze, and antiseptic, and all kinds of medicine, but little in the way of long, thin, tiny pieces of metal.

Sighing, Eva stood and dragged the chain along behind her into the bedroom. Alexei was snoring softly and the TV was on mute. The room was quiet. Suffocating.

Crossing to the window, Eva looked out onto the street. No one was on an afternoon stroll. No children played with brightly colored balls. There were no street vendors with fruit. It was empty. Barren. Lonely.

Which was kind of weird.

This was a new development, looked like a nice place to live. There should be all kinds of people putting in offers for the available houses. The street should be busy with cars going to and from work in the morning. But, it wasn’t. There wasn’t even a mailman.

“Napping the day away, Alexei?”

Eva turned to find Josh sauntering into the room with a grin. He looked markedly improved. The shadows under his eyes were gone and he’d taken the time to put on a suit. His jovial attitude was as natural as it had ever been, which meant he had some kind of good news to share. Good news that may not bode well for Eva.

Alexei stirred and opened his eyes, “I was having a beautiful dream of kicking your ass.”

Josh laughed, “You’ll get to live out that dream in a few months.”

“Can’t wait,” he replied. Then, “Been in this bed too fucking long.”

Sitting nearby, Josh gave Alexei a sympathetic look, “You’re right. How do you feel about a little field trip?”

Alexei lifted a brow. Eva held her breath.

“Got a new med for you.”

A groan, “Not another experiment.”

Josh held up his hands, “Its just a protein modifier. It’ll help with your muscle tone.”

“A fucking walk would help with my muscle tone, Josh.”

Eva, who had been standing across the room listening to them argue, finally saw her opportunity, “He’s right. He can’t sit here all day watching TV.”

Josh glared at her, “Are you a doctor, now, Eva?”

She shrugged, “Seems like common sense to me.”

“Leave her alone,” Alexei groused. “She’s been putting up with an injured man for three days.”

Angry, Josh stood and paced towards the door, “She’s the reason you’re injured.”

“Diego is the reason I’m injured. Which reminds me, where are you with tracking the man down?”

Josh crossed his arms, “I’ve had men at his apartment. He hasn’t returned. I think someone tipped him off—maybe the complex manager.”

Eva tried to keep her breathing steady while she listened for any small detail that could tell her where Horacio was and what he was doing. If he wasn’t at the apartment, where was he staying? With Javier? Were they anywhere close to figuring out where she was? How long would that take?

“So, you’ve lost him.”

“I haven’t lost him,” Josh sneered, “He’s just being sneaky.”

Alexei rolled his eyes and looked at Eva, “You’re coming with me on the field trip. I need someone with common sense along for the ride.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“I don’t think you have a choice. Get the chain off her and bring me my cane.”

Josh, who had never taken an order in his entire life, stood up.

Stunned by the strange turn in their dynamic, Eva stood back and watched Josh do as Alexei asked. He left the room and came back with a cane, then pulled a set of keys from his pocket to unlock Eva’s cuff.

Free for the first time, Eva tried to act natural as she reached for her clutch. Josh caught her arm and tugged her towards the door, “You won’t need that where we’re going. Out. Let me help Alexei get dressed.”

Dismissed to the hall, Eva stood awkwardly near the door while Juan waited at the top of the stairs. He was still wearing a bandage from where she’d hit him. It was clean, at least, no residual blood. She hoped he wasn’t going to hold it against her. Seek revenge, and all.

She tried to smile at him, “Uh, sorry about your head. And your arm.”

Juan looked away briefly, “Its fine.”

“Cool,” she replied, not knowing what to make of his response, “Cool.”

The door to the bedroom swung open, Josh waltzing through it with a pleased expression, “Let’s go!”

Behind him, Alexei moved along with his cane. Slow. Steady. Eva had to squash the urge to move to his side and assist. He’d probably rebuff her, anyways. Even injured as he was, Alexei was still a proud man. Together, they followed Josh down the stairs and out the front door to where the car was waiting. Same car, different driver.

Alexei got in the passenger’s seat and Josh climbed into the back with her. Eva would have rather sat next to Alexei. He would have, at least, made conversation. Instead, she was stuck with Josh practically bouncing in his seat with anticipation. Just watching his boyish glee made her stomach turn over.

The drive was very, very short. A matter of a minute and a half. The neighborhood was more or less sitting in the back yard of a warehouse. Eva stared at the brutally minimal construction, the complete lack of any character. From the outside, there was no way to tell what went on within.

It had to be the factory.

Eva turned her head left and right, staring at the cars around them. She looked at every face, hoping to see Horacio looking back at her. He knew where the factory was, knew Josh was staying somewhere nearby. He could be prepped right now to bring her back to where she belonged.

No luck.

“So this is where you’ve been working?” Eva couldn’t help but to ask.

Josh shook his head, “The main plant is about ten miles from here. This is where I do my experimental work.”

Eva felt her heart drop. Horacio knew about the main plant, but there was no telling if he had any idea about the magnet location. A ten mile radius could take weeks for him to work through to find her. It was looking more and more like Eva was going to have to get away from Josh, herself.

The car pulled to a stop in the back near a pair of large loading docks. Inside, massive fans pushed the air towards a ventilation system that was far more advanced than it had any reason to be. Not for simple manufacturing.

Josh strode ahead of them with purpose, making his way towards a supervisor’s office. The supervisor rose to greet him, speaking in heavily accented English. Eva listened to the conversation with half a smile, wondering if Josh had made any attempt to learn the language or if he demanded all his employees speak in his native tongue.

“The samples are ready, yes,” the supervisor assured him. “In the spare office, like you said.”

“Great! Thank you. Wonderful work, as always.”

Eva nearly laughed at Josh’s flamboyant enthusiasm before she caught herself with a light cough. The supervisor glanced at her in curiosity, but seemed to know better than to comment. Josh had him well trained, already.

The spare office was exactly like it sounded. Spare. A desk, some chairs, and a few filing cabinets. On the desk was a black case and a sharps container.

Alexei sat heavily in one of the chair, “Alright, let’s do what we came here for.”

Josh waggled his finger at him, “You just rest there for a minute. There’s no rush.”

“I’m going to miss my show,” Alexei grumbled with a pointed look.

Eva covered her smile with her hand. She worked to school her expression and couldn’t quite manage it. Was her life this ridiculous back in Louisiana? Was Josh?

He opened the up the case and began sorting through its contents with a frown. “Oscar, get Michael in here,” he ordered. Then, louder, “Michael!”

After a moment, the supervisor peeked his head in, “Its, uh, Miguel, Dr. Moore.”

Eva’s hand, which had been covering her mouth, moved to cover her eyes.

“Whatever,” Josh retorted, “There was supposed to be four vials in this case. I only see two.”

Miguel squeezed awkwardly past the driver and held up his hands in supplication, “Yes, sir. The, uh, product, did not come in.”

Josh’s eyes narrowed and his frown deepened, “Why?”

“There was an accident on the highway. Our truck was overturned,” he answered. “I was told that you were aware.”

“I am obviously not aware,” Josh muttered, “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be asking about it.”

Miguel, sensing danger, put his hands together and said, “I am sorry.”

Josh looked at the man for a few seconds in anger, then waved him away, “Have them ready for me by the end of the week.”

“Yes, sir.”

Miguel scuttled from the room while Josh set up the two vials and syringes, saying, “Honestly, you can’t find good help in this country.”

Alexei rested his hands on his cane and fixed Josh with an annoyed expression, “Does this mean that we came here for nothing?”

Josh’s brows lifted, “No, no. You’re still going to get your shot. Eva will just have to wait for hers.”

Eva was all surprise, “I’m getting a shot?”

“Yep!”

Alexei rolled up his sleeve, “Why is Birdie getting a shot? Is she injured, too?”

Josh circled the desk with the vial and syringe in hand, “I guess you could say that.” He drew the medicine in to the syringe, “I know that you’ve noticed Diego forced the bond on her. You can’t be too weak as to miss that stench.”

Alexei’s eyes met Eva’s with the barest hint of sympathy, “I noticed.”

Eva tried not to convey anything with her expression—positive or negative. She leaned into old habits and made her expression neutral and passive.

Josh chuckled, as if he’d made a particularly funny joke, “Can’t have her smelling like a dirty drug dealer, can I?” A pause while he administered the injection, “I’ve got a lovely little cocktail that should eliminate the bond entirely.” With a happy smile, he added, “Its new!”

Alexei looked shell shocked, “That’s impossible. You’ll kill her.”

Throwing the syringe into the sharps contained, Josh replied, “Nothing is impossible with the right formulation, Alexei. I think I’ve found something that will do that job nicely.”

Eva had never been more grateful for a car accident in her life. But, deep down, she knew it could only provide a slight delay in Josh’s plans. As soon as he got his hands on the new batch of product, he would be bringing it to the house to test on her—and, God help her, if he was anywhere near successful. Even if she didn’t die from the shot, itself, Eva would die from the force of the bond breaking apart.

Alexei noticed her vague panic and started arguing with Josh about how dangerous it was to perform that kind of procedure outside of a clinical trial. He spouted off facts Eva didn’t even know he had picked up over the years, relaying his points in words she had absolutely used in the past.

“And,” Alexei concluded, out of breath, “there is an easier way to fix this problem.”

Red faced and frustrated, Josh made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “Alright. Let’s hear it. What is this better way?”

“We kill him,” Alexei said, simply.

Eva felt her heart constrict at the suggestion. She held it back by the skin of her teeth.

Josh paused, as if the thought had not occurred to him, “You think it will be that easy? To kill Diego?”

Alexei nodded, “We have something he wants.”

“So we, what, lure him into a trap and put a bullet in his back.”

“I’d prefer his head.”

“Good point,” Josh acknowledged. He looked at Birdie with an assessing gaze, “You think he’ll go through all that trouble just to get you back?”

Eva, uncomfortable, replied, “He can get an accountant anywhere.”

Alexei groaned and put his head in his hands. Then, after a long breath, looked up and said, “She’s his bonded omega. It doesn’t matter if he wants her, or if he needs her. If Diego is going to have any kind of sanity, he’s going to get her back. That’s how it works.”

The room fell into silence while Josh thought about Alexei’s proposition. His mouth screwed up in thought and his eyes settled into the middle distance. Alexei watched Josh with a focused look, possibly trying to will the other man to agree with him.

Across the room, Eva crossed her arms and hoped Josh would side with Alexei. Best case scenario, Horacio got information as to her whereabouts. At minimum, it would buy her time that she might not have had otherwise.

“Alright,” Josh said after taking his time to seriously consider what Alexei was saying, “I guess we’ll have to extend an olive branch to him.”

Alexei, looking at little relieved, said, “How are we supposed to do that when you can’t even find the man?”

Josh smiled, “I have some contacts in the area. Locals, you know? I’ll give them a little incentive to get me information.”

Humming doubtfully, Alexei replied, “You haven’t tried that already?”

“Well, I’ve been a little busy making that protein modifier for you,” Josh shot back, defensive. “I haven’t even heard a thank you.”

“Thank you,” Alexei murmured dryly.

“Honestly,” Josh bit out, “I work day and night to get our life back together and this is how you treat me?”

Alexei lifted his chin, “I got shot in the head, Josh.”

Josh drew back a little, “Yes. I know. Thank you for not dying.”

“You’re welcome.”

Eva stood there during this whole exchange, growing increasingly confused. She was used to their arguing, but actually resolving the issues between them was new. In the space a few minutes, they had gone from being at each other’s throats to...whatever this was.

She didn’t like it.

Alexei pushed to standing with a tired groan, “Are we done here?”

Josh nodded, “Yes. I suppose we are.” Then, “Myra’s making a nice gumbo for dinner—just like home. What do you say we eat downstairs tonight?”

Eva did not get to eat downstairs. As soon as they were back in the house, she was pushed back into Alexei’s room and chained for safekeeping. This time, she didn’t mind it so much because she finally had something more precious than gumbo—privacy.

With care for how she disturbed the chain behind her, Eva picked up her clutch, intending to find a spare hair pin in its depths. What she found, other than money, lipstick, a scarf, and Horacio’s spare lighter, was a gun.

How could she have forgotten? Fucking how?

For three days, she had the ability to fucking shoot someone, and Eva had fucking forgot about it.

She was an idiot. An absolute idiot.

Cradling the weapon against her chest, Eva decided that she needed to use it wisely. She only had the advantage of surprise once, and there were a lot of variables to work out to make sure she used that advantage efficiently. A gunshot was going to make sure everyone in the house, and possibly the neighborhood, paid attention.

Eva stopped—what if she wasn’t in the neighborhood?

What if she waited just a little bit. For the next field trip. For the next dose of Alexei’s medication.

She could get out of that warehouse quick-like, and then the highway was seconds for her running feet. It wouldn’t matter who chased her, someone would see. Someone would stop.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Eva carried the gun into the bathroom and closed the door. She then lifted her shirt and (after double checking the safety) tucked the gun into her bra. Turning side to side, she examined the way the fabric fell over it, hoping that everyone would be a little too busy to notice the slight hump between her breasts. Wanting extra security, she pulled the scarf from her clutch and draped it beneath the collar of her shirt.

There. Much better.

Later, Eva curled up in the armchair with TV muted and Alexei half asleep. She stared out the window towards the warehouse, calculating the distance in her head. The angle of the house and the height of the window weren’t much more than guesswork, but Eva thought she could make it if she hauled some serious ass across the road.

The next day, she would keep careful watch to see when the traffic was the most dense. From there, it would be a matter of working to manipulate Josh into letting her out of the house for even a few minutes.

Pressing her hand to her chest, Eva felt the weight of the gun. The metal was warm from her skin and strangely comforting. She could do this. She could do this.

Alexei stirred, half awake. Eva watching him turn over restlessly. She would need to sleep, too, if she wanted to get away safely. Knees to her chest, Eva closed her eyes and tried to pretend she was at home, in Colombia. She tried to pretend that the fan was going at top speed above, that Horacio was laying next to her, and that tomorrow she would wake up to the smell of coffee and the sound of him puttering around the kitchen.

[vincess-princess]

The Weavers

made a moodboard to put in the header until i finish the art im currently drawing <3

Chapter 1

Ch. 2

Word count: 2126

One cage replaced another, but at least he could stretch his legs and arms in this one. There was even a wooden bunk there, providing some refuge from the cold emanating from the stone. On the other hand, now he couldn’t see anything but stone walls, and the only barred window was so up high he could never hope to reach it even if his legs were still working. He detested being confined to a small stone box, constantly feeling like the walls closed in on him, crushed his chest, making him suffocate and scratch his skin till he drew blood. When the sun shone into his window, he would drag his body to the sunny spot on the floor and curl up there, catching the rays of warmth on his skin like a man dying of thirst would catch drops of water.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed since he was thrown in here. He could no longer keep track of the changes of the day. He noticed humans walked past his cell at similar intervals, their heavy boots booming against the stone floor. Every time they neared his cell the speed of their steps picked up. It brought him a hint of satisfaction. Even at this pathetic state they were still afraid of him. He couldn’t do anything to them, not like he could before, without the burning bracelets on his wrists, but they didn’t know that.

Pathetic, useless, worthless, degraded. His life was worse than his death could ever be. Yet the days came and went, and he still couldn’t get what he wanted. It even became somewhat funny. He was such a failure he failed to die. Truly an achievement. Fortunately, none of his kin lived to see that.

One time, when the rays of sunshine on the floor were slowly turning red, loud voices from the corridor awoke him. Humans patrolling the corridors didn’t usually talk, just breathed heavily in their metal head coverings. These two- three? no, two – talked out loud, and very emotionally at that. Once voice was raspy, like its owner’s throat had been cracked and mended, speaking in hurried whispers. The other was ringing, clear, replying in a laconic yet authoritative manner, cutting short every sentence the first one began. For some reason, some sicklish gut feeling, he didn’t want these two to reach his cage, to look at him with their round-pupiled eyes, eyes of a daytime predator – which they were, in a way. Humans’ looks felt like bugs crawling on his skin; only when he wanted to smack them, there never were any. Neiro remained silent all that time since the flash, but he still tugged the string, begging for these two to pass by his cage and not stop. But Neiro, of course, didn’t hear him.

His eyes caught a glimpse of fire reflecting off slimy walls of the corridor. Voices grew louder, steps slower. He pulled himself up on his arms, crawled away from the bars and leaned against the farthest wall – if he had to face them, he would not do that from the floor.

They showed up from behind a wall, and his stomach tied into a knot. One of them was a human that caused the flash, the presence in his Neiro. The other was a thin, white-haired human of a darker complexion, bent with age. Dark-brown hands flailed helplessly around the other one, as if they wanted to touch but couldn’t. The human in a red tunic – it had a different pattern today – didn’t seem to notice the old human’s efforts in any way and strode forward confidently. He could hear their breath, though, and it was fast and shallow. Scared, he smiled. You can fool your companion, but not me.

They stopped talking when they noticed him watch them. The darker human shuddered visibly and pulled the human in red by the arm away from his cage. The human in red didn’t budge, just shook callous, trembling fingers off. Their eyes locked again.

It was less intense this time – no flash - but the feeling was there, the presence of another mind in his own head. It resembled somewhat the thread-pulling he did with his kin, but closer, more personal, more intimate, like the thread was so sensitive a mere directionless thought could trigger it. Like someone was peeping inside his own mind and fumbling in there, trying to catch his thoughts and feelings like fish in a creak.

Humans didn’t have access to Neiro. But there were no more alves around, and this didn’t feel like typical thread-pulling. More like a forceful invasion... very typical for humans.

The red-clothed human stopped dead in his tracks, their eyes widening and breath quickening. Were they feeling something too?

The human rubbed their temples, their brows curving, looking completely confused. The alv wasn’t sure if human and alvish emotions matched, but he could still tell.

Then the human raised their head abruptly, narrowing their eyes, and a wave of resentment washed over the alv, resentment that wasn’t his.

Then the human reached for his weapon.

***

Stormwell stepped into the dungeon behind Stern and carefully closed the creaking door. As the servant promised, the guards were absent, although a moshu stick in an ashtray on the table was still smoldering. They would be back soon. There was little time.

Stern took a torch off the closest bracket and turned to Stormwell. The light of the fire danced in his milky eyes, cast a grotesque shadow over his features.

“Are you sure, master Storm?” he whispered, looking around hastily. “His High Honor wouldn’t like you to be here.”

“His High Honor won’t be disappointed if he never learns about it.” Stormwell pushed past Stern into a narrow corridor, a cold stone wall by his left side, a row of cells by his right. The air smelled of rusty metal and torch smoke. “And he won’t, right, Stern?”

“Of course, master Storm,” Stern bowed his head with a sigh. “Then we shall hurry. We’ve only got a few dectas[1] before the new shift arrives.”

“It’s enough.” Not looking back, Stormwell set off into the darkness of the corridor. He didn’t really need the torch light – it was distracting him even. But others didn’t fare so well in the dark, especially old man Stern. He could hear his heavy, whistling breath behind his back – he struggled to keep up with Stormwell’s pace.

Stormwell didn’t slow down. Stern did his job already, nothing bad would happen if he fell back a little. It was even better, in a way. He didn’t want anyone to interfere.

“Master Storm! I can’t keep up with you!” he heard Stern’s voice. Just once in his life could people leave him alone when he wanted them to?

“You don’t have to!” he said, irritated. He knew the old man would rather fall dead than lose sight of his fosterling – and Stormwell couldn’t suppress a wish for him to opt for the former.

But Stern was the only one in court who never recoiled from him. As annoying as he was, he was also devoted, and that was rather scarce for Stormwell.

Stormwell slowed his pace. When he felt the heat of the torch, he turned to face Stern.

“If we don’t get there in time because of you…” his threat trailed off. He knew very well it wouldn’t be Stern who’d be questioned and pestered endlessly over this. “And I don’t want you to get in my way when we get there. Stay back, I’ll handle it myself.”

“Handle what, master? You never told me what you want to do with the creature.”

“I-“ Stormwell himself didn’t know exactly why he was going down here. The creature was about to die anyway, if not from starvation (it almost doesn’t eat, he was told) then from the surgeon’s blade. It was rare to encounter an alv in the mountains, and they needed to learn everything they could about their capabilities while they have a living specimen.

For some reason, he wanted to look at it before the experiments took place. “I have some ideas.”

“It’s not going to be anything dangerous, is it?” Stern clarified carefully. Stormwell could understand his worry, but his growing irritation prevented him from sympathizing with it.

“Whatever I do, it’s none of your business. I can handle everything myself. Do you doubt me?”

“No, of course not! It’s just that His High Honor-“

“Shh.” Stormwell raised his hand, silencing Stern. Distant anticipation stirred inside his stomach. They were approaching the right cell.

“Stay back. I’ll handle everything myself,” he said again, wrapping his palm around the hilt of his sword.

Stern gulped audibly. Stormwell could almost see his worry for his master battling with his innate fear of alves. He had come from the lands where they were plenty, killing travelers and wreaking havoc in settlements that had set down too close to their territories.

Maybe he should fear too - but all he felt was curiosity. Maybe some faint uneasiness. Maybe.

He grabbed the torch from Stern and stepped forward. He knew the right cell even before he looked inside it – a strange anticipation spiked in his chest, making his heart race.

The creature was half-lying, half-leaning against the farther wall, the flame of the torch reflecting in yellow, cat-pupiled eyes, casting a shadow over thin, sharp features. Charcoal hair, thick and straight, was weaved into a complex braid that hadn’t lost its tightness even now, curled like a snake on the knees of the alv. Black lines formed intricate patterns on the skin of dark, rich green color. It reminded Stormwell of skin drawings he saw on some travelers – but the alv was covered in them head to toe, and there was no discernible meaning to them. For a second he was bewitched by these intricate cobwebs, but then shook himself out of it. It was trying to enchant him. These creatures, he heard, could kill a man with just a glance.

That very moment the yellow eyes opened wide, and the alv’s gaze met Stormwell’s. Shivers went down his spine, even though nothing particular happened – he wasn’t dropping dead, or even getting mind-controlled, and the strange flash in the circus tent didn’t come back. He was just tired… overwhelmingly tired and disenchanted, and the feeling grew and grew, and the ground felt wonky under his feet. But he wasn’t tired just a decta ago. Where’d this come from?

“Master Storm?” he heard Stern’s worried voice, pulling him out of his trance. “Master Storm!”

“Huh?” He turned back to Stern, and the feeling started to slowly fade away. “What?”

“Are you alright? You’re pale as Astor!”

Stormwell rubbed his eyes. He’d never felt so tired. He wasn’t even aware his body was capable of feeling this way – a young, strong, lithe body of a fifteen-year-old should never know such fatigue.

“I’m… alright,” he said slowly. “Just a bit dizzy. Haven’t had lunch.” It was a lie, obviously, but he didn’t want Stern to panic. They still had to get back somehow.

“Master Storm, but what if it’s the alv-“

“It’s not,” Stormwell interrupted him angrily. “Do you think I can’t see the difference?”

“You can’t, master. These creatures will make you cut off your own hand with a smile on your face,” Stern suddenly said calmly, all panic gone from his voice. “We don’t have much time, master.”

“Yes, I understand. We’ll be moving in a moment,” Stormwell murmured and turned back to the cell.

The alv was smiling. He swore to Decantah, the alf was smiling, with slightly pointy teeth, unnaturally white even in dim light of the torch. The yellow eyes focused right on Stormwell, and he realized – the creature was laughing at him.

He gripped the hilt of his sword so tight his knuckles went white. A crack crept across the torch in his other hand, deceptively slowly, until, with a loud crack, the stave fell apart. The flame went out.

Damn it. He could manage well without light, but Stern, already half-blind, would definitely break a leg, if not his neck.

“Master Storm?! What did it-”

“Shh, shh. I did it. I’m sorry.”

“You? Why?”

“You talk like I control it,” Stormwell grumbled.

“I can’t see a thing,” Stern said piteously.

“I will lead you. Take my hand.”

His hand found Stern’s, wrinkly, dry and warm. Light was coming from afar, but no torches were lit in this section of the corridor. If they wanted to impede an alv with this, Stormwell thought with sudden derision, then they only made patrolling harder for themselves. He- it didn’t need light to see them well.

[1] 1 decta ~ 6 minutes

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Happy Monday! Hope all is well is your world. Any PFR snippet to share today? 😊

Sure! Let’s pick up right where the last one left off, in the heat of chapter two. Fair warning that this story is far from being posted so it hasn’t been edited, but this should begin to sketch out the general tensions of the piece:

Jane pulled her close, front to front. Maura’s brain powered down. When Jane’s hand splayed against the small of her back, her sex powered up. “It’s how we talk to each other, isn’t it? What’s wrong with that? English can be sexy, too.”

“When it’s…” when it’s coming out of your mouth. Maura stopped herself with a touch on Jane’s shoulder. She rubbed there, moved to raise her other arm, but Jane grabbed it.

Jane stared. “Uh uh,” started Jane. “This ain’t dance class. C’mere.” Then, she splayed the fingers of her left hand over Maura’s hip, tugging it forward until Maura turned, back against Jane’s front.

The spell had been broken and reality disoriented Maura. Lights peppered the otherwise dark club at intervals in time with the song’s drums, and she caught glimpses of people in positions just like hers, but they were moving. There was sweat and sloshing mixed drinks and sloppy kisses shared from awkward angles that somehow still looked salacious enough to cause pregnancy. Is that what they would be doing? Could she do that?

“Don’t worry, we’re gonna go slow,” Jane whispered into her ear, as if reading everything Maura had been thinking. And then, as if to disperse all of that insight, Jane doused Maura with ice water. “It’s just for fun,” she said, and Maura shuddered.

“I don’t -” I don’t want that? I don’t want it to just be for fun? Is that what Maura really meant? She couldn’t have said. The tequila melted her inhibition and her limbs started to loosen.

Jane took advantage, and if she heard Maura’s half sentence, she didn’t acknowledge it. Both hands went to Maura’s hips, and shoved them back into Jane’s front. Then, rather than forcing Maura to move while the music sounded around them, Jane moved. First, it was her left thumb in one of Maura’s belt loops, a seatbelt to keep her in place, and then it was a slow cock of her waist, up then down - slow. “Not about the beat yet. Just about the motion. Go with it.”

“O-ok,” Maura answered. She closed her eyes so that she could feel herself against Jane, so that she could feel Jane moving and then follow it. Since when had Jane assumed the role of temptress in their friendship? Since when had Maura wanted to be tempted? Since, apparently, Maura’d gotten the hang of winding her hips and they’d sped up to match the music. Then, oh, Jane dropped back while keeping her pelvis forward and the training wheels dropped off.

At that moment in Jane and Tatiana’s sequence, Tatiana had employed ungodly amounts of confidence and had bent forward, letting gravity and her knees shake her ass in ways… well. It was new to Maura. And it was calculus to this very algebraic equation she and Jane were building.

But, on top of that, when Jane dropped away to watch, something hooked into Maura’s heart and pulled. The injury tasted like reflux and hurt like a burn. Not like the tequila was making a reappearance, but like, oh fuck it.

Maura turned, and wrapped an arm around Jane’s shoulders. She kept up their sensuality strong with the sway of her body and pulled Jane close.

Jane straightened her back and stood up straight, bringing Maura closer because of the way Maura still hung on her. She curled one brow. “Miss me?” she asked with a drunken little chuckle.

Maura pouted. “I wanted to see you. What is the point of this if you can’t see the person you’re trying to seduce?”

Jane’s chuckled turned into a bark of laughter. “Oh I could see you alright,” she said, her hand resting on the top of Maura’s ass as it moved, though it slowed. She made a show of peeking around to look right at it.

Maura smacked Jane’s shoulder and huffed. The song wound down while they swayed together, and she sighed. “I’m getting quite drunk,” she admitted.

“Yeah me, too,” Jane moved to a respectable hug across Maura’s back and sighed. “And you know what that means,” she said, “gotta get more shots till the awkward goes away.”

Then Jane turned Maura’s jaw toward Frankie’s small table closer to the edge of the dance floor, and tossed a glance in that direction. Frankie lifted a few beers at them as he sported an ear-to-ear grin. “Oh no,” Maura lamented, “I’m going to regret this in the morning.”

“We all are,” Jane said, pulling Maura by the hand back toward their group. “Let’s live a little anyway.”

“You’re certainly uninhibited!” shouted Maura as they moved through bodies.

Jane pulled her closer until they were flush again, Maura’s front to Jane’s back. “Blame the Casamigos, kid,” said Jane.

“Or should I blame the very beautiful Martinez sibling we’ve encountered?” Maura replied much more quietly than her last statement.

“Yeah, I guess you could do that, too,” Jane said through another laugh. When they approached, Frankie shoved a beer in her face. She put her hands up even though Maura took hers. “Uh uh,” Jane told her brother, “bathroom first. It better still be here when I get back.”

[wrienne]

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 15: Gunshot

Months passed. Or well, that’s what it felt like. You lost all sense of time as well as the day and night cycle in the blackness. At times, you even lost your ability to sense space. Some days, the room could be small and cramped, like you were stuck in a tiny box at the bottom of the ocean. Yet other days, it felt like you had been locked inside a gigantic warehouse by the docks or a shopping mall with no inner walls or floors.

Of course, you inspected the room the best you could, swiping your hands and feet all over the walls and the floor for some kind of tool or opening to exploit. The tiniest nail, glass splinter, wire; any kind of crack, depression or hole - really anything that might be useful.

But there was nothing.

The frustration made you want to scream, and you probably would have without Jung-Hyun there with you. With him, the coldness was never unbearable and his stiff, somber voice soothed your restless mind. It wasn’t as if though you two were conversing; no, you rarely exchanged more than a few words every so often. But Jung-Hyun kept quietly counting to himself at regular intervals. It took you a while to figure out what he was doing, and when you did, you couldn’t hide your surprise.

“Jung-Hyun?”

It could have been days after the two of you had last seen sunlight, or even weeks. You were tired, as you so often were in that dark, cold room, and leaned against the side of his body, which, at least to you, seemed to grow hotter with each unknown hour that passed. Though that might just be because you were getting a cold. Your throat had started to become scratchy, and you had caught yourself before you could sneeze more than once.

The answer didn’t come until after he had finished counting. “Yes?”

“Are you maybe counting the thuds from upstairs?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Some of them are footsteps.”

“And?”

“I want to know how many there are.”

“Why would you want to know that?”

He didn’t respond. You felt a chill crawl down your back and curled up into a ball. Your stomach growled, but that wasn’t the biggest concern you had at that moment. You needed to go to the bathroom.

Over the course of your stay, a woman you presumed to be Yoo-Jin, the “boss’ girlfriend” and apparently the person who chose the building you and Jung-Hyun had been brought to, visited regularly. You only knew she was a woman thanks to her physique, since she, too, wore a balaclava to disguise her facial features. And though she never spoke to you, you were always grateful to see her.

It was only thanks to Yoo-Jin’s visits that the two of you received food, albeit nothing but a few spoonfuls of rice and half a bottle of water that you needed to share, and the chance to relieve yourselves. She also helped you cling to a semblance of an awake and sleep rhythm, since she came two times over a stretch of time before being gone for what felt like a much longer duration.

Occasionally, you thought you caught a flash of regret in Yoo-Jin’s light brown eyes whenever your gazes accidentally met. Her body motions and unavoidable mannerisms also quite obviously belonged to a timid person. You didn’t think she was fully on board with the criminal activity conducted by her supposed boyfriend - or girlfriend - and his - or her - underlings.

But she didn’t stop them either.  

Yoo-Jin’s visits might have been a good chance for you and Jung-Hyun to escape. However, the woman was always accompanied by at least three armed men. Their eyes never strayed far away from Jung-Hyun, who barely moved whenever they showed up.

That was another concerning element. It was only during Yoo-Jin’s brief stays that you were able to gauge Jung-Hyun’s physical state for more than a few seconds, and each time, your heart sank.

Bruises and scrapes aside, Jung-Hyun looked as if though he had been tied up and beaten like a dog. And you wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly what happened to him. Because whenever the door opened and Yoo-Jin wasn’t there, you knew that Jung-Hyun would be dragged out of the room. The first times a handful of men had barged in to get Jung-Hyun, you tried to fight them, but all that earned you was a slap hard enough to send you whirling to the ground. Jung-Hyun had said nothing, but there had been a silent pleading in his brown eyes for you to stay still.

And so, you obeyed. You did not cry; you did not scream. Even if it felt like an eternity passed before he returned. Even if he sometimes returned drenched. Even if he always returned with fresh bruises.

Even if you were absolutely terrified at the prospect of being left alone in the dark.

“Do you think Yoo-Jin will be here soon?” you asked.

“Yes. I can hear her footsteps.”

You frowned, and even though you could not see, you found yourself staring skyward. “How can you make out hers from everyone else’s? How do you even know which thuds are footsteps and which are just random sounds?”

“I guess, mostly. But hers are easy to identify - she’s the only one who doesn’t walk like they teach you to do in the military.”

You swallowed. At the mention of the military, you couldn’t help but be reminded of Jong-Yeol, who still couldn’t get rid of his old habits while being in service. And that hurt.

Because as soon as you thought about Jong-Yeol, your thoughts inadvertently always veered further. Toward your mother, who probably was busy hiring a whole army of detectives, if not even mercenaries, to find you. Toward your father, who most likely had buried himself in work to forget about his worries at least temporarily - and whose weak health gnawed constantly on your mind. Toward Se-Eun, who you hoped would be able to concentrate on her life even with the heavy cloud of concern that surely hung over her regarding your disappearance.

Toward Jungkook, whose career you prayed your disappearance wasn’t disturbing.

Even though you still could not remember the last time you and he had met, you knew that there was something you needed to tell him. Or was it the other way around? Your head felt like it would burst whenever you started thinking about the strange pain in your heart that surfaced whenever Jungkook’s name appeared in your mind.

And so, once more, you pushed all your thoughts of the outside world aside and focused on the present.

“Oh,” you uttered weakly. “That’s a good point. But how many do you think they are?”

“Anywhere from nine to fifteen.”

“Oh. Is that a lot?”

“Yes.”

The conversation fizzled out just like that. You didn’t know what it was, but Jung-Hyun’s silent disposition seemed to grow more and more dominant the longer you remained in that room. He didn’t stay close to you either, not unless you asked him first. And when he did wrap his arm around you, it felt reluctant, but not in the way reluctance might normally feel like. It didn’t feel like he was avoiding you on purpose.

Rather, that he avoided you because he needed to.

Sometimes, when the cold wasn’t so horrible, you fell asleep alone. If you had to be honest, you didn’t really want to since Jung-Hyun was so irresistibly warm and just… large. It was stupid, but when you fell asleep next to him, it felt like you were protected.

Like things weren’t so bad, after all.

Anyway, one day, or night - or really, anything - you woke to the sound of him huffing and panting strenuously. Your first thought was to ask him what was going on, but you refrained in the last second. While pretending that you were still asleep, you kept your breathing calm and somewhat noisy, and continued to listen. Soon, there were quiet clapping strewn in between the heavy breaths.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Jung-Hyun? What are you doing?”

It went deathly quiet. You almost thought you were stuck in a dream - or rather, a nightmare - when Jung-Hyun’s stiff, somber and slightly out of breath voice broke the silence.

“I’m exercising.”

Your eyes widened. “What? Are you out of your mind?”

“I need to keep my body strong if I want to get out of here.”

“But you’re hurt!” You scrambled in the direction of his voice and bumped into his back. “You need to rest,” you said and grabbed his shoulders. They were hot to your touch.

“When I get out of here, I will. Until then, I cannot afford to.”

“You’re acting crazy,” you said, your heart squirming with fear at the thought of Jung-Hyun having lost his mind.

“Maybe. But my thoughts are still mine.”

“You’re hurt,” you said again. “What have they been doing to you?”

No reply.

“Jung-Hyun,” you said firmly, no longer patient enough for a future explanation. “Answer me.”

“They want to know the secrets of my late boss.”

“And?”

“...I don’t understand.”

“What have you told them?”

“Nothing.”

“Is that all they want from you?” you wondered, your concern morphing into anger, a much more easily manageable emotion.

“It seems that way.”

“Then just tell them!”

“I can’t. I don’t know who their boss is but it’s clear he or she isn’t loyal to the Hwan Song Sung Pa.”

Your grip around Jung-Hyun’s shoulders tightened. “You’re not a part of this scene anymore,” you told him. “Why not just tell them what they want to know and get out of here?”

“Do you think they’ll just let me go after that?”

A flicker of irritation had entered Jung-Hyun’s stiff, somber and usually emotionless voice for once. You pursed your lips and loosened your hold of his shoulders. “I guess not,” you said dejectedly.

There was a long pause. You were just about to withdraw to the corner you had been sleeping in when a hand came to rest on top of yours.

“Thank you.”

His gesture and words startled you. “For what?”

“For worrying about me,” said Jung-Hyun in a calm tone. “But you really shouldn’t. Think about yourself first, (Y/N).”

“It sounds like you’re going to leave me.”

“I’m not. But you’ll leave this place before me.”

“We’ve already discussed this,” you said with a frown. “We’re walking out together.”

“That’s not possible.”

You backed away from him with a sigh, too frustrated to be near him, even less touch him. But your rising levels of frustration weren’t caused solely because of him.

Because you, too, knew, deep down, that the chances for Jung-Hyun to leave that basement as a free man were slim to none.

More time passed. Again, it was impossible to say whether days or months or just a few hours had passed. You and Jung-Hyun exchanged even fewer words than ever before, but your roles had reversed after the last argument. It was you who shied away from physical contact and communication, and it wasn’t until Jung-Hyun offered his warmth that you even considered touching him. Your stubbornness would come to bite you in the backside, however, for within a handful of visits from Yoo-Jin, you started coughing.

Strangely, this elicited a new development in Yoo-Jin’s visits. Both your and Jung-Hyun’s bowls were filled with more rice, and she even came with what looked like leftover soup. There weren’t many ingredients remaining within it, but it was still hot enough to burn your tongue and therefore more than you would have ever dared to ask for. One time, Yoo-Jin even brought you a thick, knitted cardigan you could wear.

“Thank you for everything.”

You were inside the bathroom combined washroom that was situated next to the stairs leading up to the ground level. Yoo-Jin was inside as well, probably to keep an eye on you, but she stood with her back toward you as you finished your business.

Now, you weren’t going to lie, you had imagined sneaking up behind her and knocking her out numerous times. But you knew that would benefit neither you nor Jung-Hyun. The men were still waiting on the other side of the door and the window was barred from the outside. Also, to be honest, you didn’t want to harm her. Sure, she hadn’t done anything to help you, but you doubted she had much choice in the matter, considering her relationship with the men’s boss.

“What?”

Yoo-Jin’s voice was sharp, but not even nearly as piercing as your mother’s, and you shrugged it off easily.

“For the food and the cardigan,” you replied as you washed your hands in the dilapidating sink. The fact that clean water somehow could run through the rusted faucet shocked you every time you touched the sluggish handles.

“Can’t have you getting pneumonia or something serious like that. Not with all the money you have on your head.”

“Ah,” you said, hesitating before you spoke again. “How… how much time has passed since I was brought here?”

Yoo-Jin turned around. “Are you done?” she asked harshly instead of responding.

“Yes,” you replied immediately.

“Then get moving.”

You scratched your arm and continued to do that even after you had been locked inside the dark room again. It had been dark outside as well, you had seen that through the frosted window. But you still had no idea where you might be. Or well, judging by the occasional car rumbling past over the seemingly countless of times you had been to the nearly disintegrating bathroom, you had to be somewhat near civilization. And the orange light you had seen belonged to a street lamp most likely.

Jung-Hyun had said that the men - and Yoo-Jin - were the Hwan Song Sung Pa’s Seoul subunit. But Seoul was huge. You knew its inner parts very well, and could probably find your way home so long as you could see the Han River. But without any point of interest in sight, you would have no way of knowing where to go once you and Jung-Hyun escaped.

Because, yes. You were still fixed on the idea of getting out of that room together with him. Partly because you just straight up refused the notion of leaving him there, all alone and with nobody to lean on. And partly because you found it eerie that you hadn’t been bought out by your parents already. If you now were a hostage, why hadn’t you been extracted? What was taking your parents so long? Money, your only way of escaping, couldn’t be the issue.

Right?

Even more time elapsed. Your restlessness fueled your frustration over your and Jung-Hyun’s predicament, until it reached a point where pure hopelessness clutched your senses. You were colder than ever and started feeling more apathetic despite the increasing portion sizes of your daily food intake. Perhaps Yoo-Jin noticed, because you suddenly found pieces of grilled meat and kimchi hidden underneath your rice. Although you were thankful and your body truly relished the taste of something other than the same dry rice and hot but runny soup, her efforts did nothing to stop the growing hole inside your chest.

Jung-Hyun also seemed to have noticed the shift in your attitude. He talked more, which would have made you glad ordinarily, but this wasn’t your normal world. This was a nightmare with no ending or beginning, a constant circle of the same things coming and going.

Were you going to be stuck down there forever?

Click .

You had barely registered the sound of the door unlocking before two sets of hands pulled you off the floor. Your eyelids flew open, and you found yourself propped up on your feet by a masked man on one side of you each. The silhouette of a third man towered above you in the doorway.

“Now, now, no need to stand up.”

The man in the doorway’s words had been aimed to your right, where Jung-Hyun was slowly getting to his feet. Your heart threatened to break as you took in his appearance. He was more bruised than ever, with scrapes covering practically every inch of skin that wasn’t hidden underneath his now dirty, bloody t-shirt and sweatpants, and he pressed a hand against the side of his stomach where you remembered that he had been cut. He couldn’t even stand straight and had to lean with his whole body against the bare wall.

“Her ransom has been paid,” said the man. “I’m only here to escort her to the exchange point.”

Immediately, Jung-Hyun deflated. Relief smoothed the tight expression he until then had been wearing, and he slowly sat down again. You, on the other hand, wasn’t so glad.

“I’m not going without him,” you said. Although you had hoped to sound demanding, your voice was weak and even broke toward the end of the sentence.

“Don’t be difficult, little heiress. We’re taking you to freedom.”

This caused the man on your left to snicker, and you tensed. “No. Either Jung-Hyun’s coming with me, or I’m staying.”

“Don’t listen to her.”

You stared at Jung-Hyun in disbelief. He wouldn’t look at you, however, and kept his eyes firmly planted onto the man in the door opening. “Just take her with you, Jun-Ho.”

The man in the door opening, or Jun-Ho, glared back. “Don’t say my name, you dog. Boss isn’t here to stop me from giving you exactly what you deserve, so you better fucking show some respect, traitor.”

Traitor? You sent Jung-Hyun an inquisitive glance, which he ignored.

“What’s wrong with me saying your name, Jun-Ho?” he asked in the most playfully taunting tone you had ever heard from him. It wasn’t much, but it was such a stark difference to his usual voice level that your jaw fell open.

“Get her out of here,” said Jun-Ho without breaking eye contact with Jung-Hyun.

“Really?” asked the man left to you.

The one to the right of you also spoke. “But I thought you were desperate to--”

“Shut the fuck up and go. I’ll join you and the others soon.” Jun-Ho dropped some familiar-looking fabric and plastic ropes in the hallway and cracked his knuckles as he stepped into the room. “I just need to show this dog his place.”

“Are you sure we should leave?”

“Look at him!” exclaimed Jun-Ho as he gestured in Jung-Hyun’s direction. “This piece of dog shit can’t even stand up straight!”

“But still, he’s--”

“I know who he is,” said Jun-Ho sharply and produced a pair of matching brass knuckles from the back of his jeans. “But not even the Black Dog can bite after all the beating he’s been fed. Can you even feel your face, Jung-Hyun?”

“Jung-Hyun!” you called out, desperately digging your naked heels into the concrete floor as you tried to tear yourself out of the men’s grip. “I’m not leaving without you!”

“Just go.”

His voice was gentle, almost painfully so. You nearly wrung every muscle in your neck in your attempt to look back at him as the two men forcefully pulled you into the hallway, but caught nothing but a reassuring nod from Jung-Hyun before a blindfold covered your vision. You punched and kicked and struggled, causing both of the men to swear profusely, but managed in the end nothing. You were bound, gagged and carried away and upward with tears soaking through the thick strip of fabric wound around your head.

“(Y/N) bit someone - mind telling me who it was?”

That was the last you heard of Jung-Hyun before a door closed behind you, and his familiar voice - and presence - was no longer.

Your fighting spirit withered. What could you do? Nothing. Absolutely nothing, except for sending a prayer to the universe that Jung-Hyun would be alright. That he wouldn’t die or have to suffer before you would come back to him.

Because once you got out, you were going to invest every won Phoenix Inc. had in order to find and save him.

The loud, cheerful sounds from the TV were so alien to you, you suddenly fell in a daze. Because it felt like you were hallucinating. Perhaps you really had lost your mind in the blackness and were nothing but dreaming at the moment. Perhaps the sharp smell of cigarette smoke and the heavy sweetness of soju and beer and something else was just a figment of your imagination.

Perhaps the feeling of being carried up another set of stairs was just your delusional mind playing a trick on you.

Wake up, you told yourself. Wake up, you crazy woman. Wake up!

But you didn’t. No matter how hard you tried, the whole world remained dark. No matter how hard you tried to envision yourself back in the pitch black room that had been your prison for who knows how long, you couldn’t regain consciousness.

That’s when the horrific realization dawned upon you - you weren’t dreaming. You were in reality.

And the two men weren’t taking you outside.

With a terror you could have never imagined even in your worst nightmares, you wriggled and struggled against the men, who were holding you like you were a heavy package. The man holding you by your legs dropped you as you managed to get in a nice kick with both of your feet and all the strength you managed to muster. You yelled into the gag as your heels collided against the hard edge of a step on the staircase, but the pain was still overshadowed by your fear. It felt like there was a tiny crawling creature growing rapidly inside your stomach, like those monsters from the Alien movies, and it was doing its best to eat its way out of your chest. You would have actually almost preferred that, because at least the fear would have escaped your body and would no longer be your problem.

But now, it simply stayed in your system, suffocating you, consuming you up from the inside.

“Fuck! Stay still, you bitch!”

A punch in your stomach nearly made you throw up. Your throat stung as the taste of bile filled your mouth, and you knew you would have puked if you had more food in your stomach.

“Mmm!”

Despite your breathlessness, you managed to muster a scream as a pair of hands returned to your legs. You screamed again, until it felt like your lungs would collapse, yet you still couldn’t even drown out the sounds coming from the TV below.

Or the growing sounds of people - men - conversing.

“We’ve brought her!”

You groaned as you were thrown onto what felt like a rugged carpet. Your cheek and knees burned against the scratchy material, and the smell of something sour penetrated your nostrils. Although you tried your best to situate yourself upright, you couldn’t do more than just lay there on your stomach. An unnatural silence fell around you and even the TV sounded like it was several miles away.

Because you knew you were far from alone.

Your heart slammed harder against the inner side of your ribcage than ever, and you could hear your blood rushing through your ears as the silence continued. You felt several pairs of eyes on you, and the sensation made your skin crawl with unease.

Please, just be a dream.

But it still wasn’t.

You felt like a prey that had wandered straight into a group of predators. An immobilized, defenseless prey in a den of hungry, greedy predators with no sense of human morals and ethics. You couldn’t even see. You couldn’t even talk.

You could only hear and feel their hands.

Of course, you tried everything. You tried to roll out of range even though it felt like your shoulders were going to dislocate. You tried to get the gag out of your mouth in order to bite whoever and whatever came near. You tried to kick and squirm and pose as much of a threat as you could.

However, all that your struggles rewarded you with was a continued series of laughter. Raw, cold laughter that couldn’t possibly belong to another human.

“Should we take off the gag?”

“Gag stays,” said a second voice. “The fuck are you looking at me like that for? Didn’t Gyoung-Su show you his wound? He nearly lost his finger! You want her to bite off your dick?”

A third voice laughed. “I don’t think Dae-Chul would mind. He always has the craziest girlfriends.”

More laughter. Too many for you to actually place.

“Untie her and hold her down, for fuck’s sake. I can’t get it up when she’s rolling around like a crazy bitch.”

You stopped breathing. You recognized that grouchy voice. It was the man who had carried you down to the basement in the first place.

“Oh? She went still.”

“I think she recognizes your voice, Gyoung-Su! Isn’t that cute?”

There was more laughter, but you barely registered it. A cigarette-heavy breath rolled off your cheek, causing every hair on your body to stand on edge, and a pair of lips brushed against your ear.

“We’ve got a score to settle, you heavy bitch. Or well, I guess I shouldn’t call you that since you don’t look so heavy anymore. I think I actually like how you look now.”

You felt the fabric grow wet against your eyes again, even more so than earlier, and your body started shaking uncontrollably in terror. You couldn’t even flinch away from him as you felt a hand ghost down your back and squeeze your backside.

“Aw, fuck, Gyoung-Su! How can you be that close to her? She stinks all the way from here.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I could fuck her even if I got paid.”

“Don’t be pussies,” said the grouchy-voiced man whose name you now knew was Gyoung-Su. “I know you’re afraid of what the boss will say, but if we all keep out mouths shut about it, he won’t know. And to ensure that you pussies keep your word, you need to stick your dick in her. Now untie her!”

“But isn’t she still a hostage?” It was the younger man’s voice, the guy who had untied you and taken away the blindfold and gag when you first were brought to the basement. “And what about Yoo-Jin?”

“Boss’ bitch is sleeping with earphones on as usual. She won’t hear anything.”

“Haven’t you watched the news lately, kid? Her company is on the border of ruins! Her family will never be able to pay the ransom.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Phoenix Inc. in ruins? How could that have happened? Was it because you had been kidnapped? But no, your parents could have just stepped in again, even if it risked your father’s health. It couldn’t be something like that.

“Yeah, and even if they will, it won’t be soon. We’d all have to work our fucking asses off for the rest of our lives to pay that stupid amount.”

“Doesn’t that make you mad, though? This rich bitch probably spent that amount every week. Enough money for a whole family to live comfortably for the rest of their lives. Don’t you think she should pay for her greed?”

“Well,” said the younger man’s voice. “I guess you can put it that way…”

“That’s more like it. Now shut your mouth unless you want your hyungs to do it for you.”

You didn’t know how many pairs of hands struggled with your plastic ropes, but you were determined, despite your crippling fear, to not just give in. You couldn’t lose this battle without a proper fight. In fact, if you just managed to kick or punch someone, you would allow yourself the win.

You would allow yourself to forget what was surely going to happen to you.

You weren’t able to do either of those things, however. For just before the ropes came loose, which was the moment you had waited to pounce, a cold, metal piece pressed against your left shoulder blade.

“I know what you’re thinking, bitch,” said Gyoung-Su. “But you’re not going to do anything unless you want a bullet through your spine. Or--” the cold sensation moved upward, toward your head, and stopped on your bottom. “--here. Understood?”

You nodded so frantically the tip of your nose scratched against the mat, completely choked up with fear to even utter a yelp.

“Good. Now, who wants--”

Gyoung-Su wasn’t able to finish his sentence. Because as soon as the pressure from the pistol disappeared, you counted to two and punched in the direction of his voice, which had still been close to your ear. Even though your strike had been in an awkward, backswing angle, you still felt something relatively soft bend underneath your knuckles. Something warm sprayed across your knuckles, and although you had begun scrambling to your knees in order to further hit Gyoung-Su in a blind but desperate rage, a pair of hands managed to catch fistfuls of your hair. Another pair grabbed your wildly swinging arms and held them over your head.

You yelled into the fabric inside your mouth as you were dragged away from a howling Gyoung-Su, but it was more out of disappointment than pain. You wanted to hurt him so much more. Until the point he couldn’t even open his mouth anymore. Until you could get rid of the disgusting feeling coating every cell that he had touched.

“Fuck, is she really a conglomerate heiress? She’s fucking insane!”

“Yeah, I’m not touching her.”

A tiny ray of hope illuminated your fear-clouded heart. This was good. If they thought you were too disgusting and crazy to touch, then you would be safe. You would probably still not be able to get out of there since you were still blind. But at least they would take you down to the basement, back to Jung-Hyun, where you could together plan an escape. You were going to survive this.

However, even that tiny ray was extinguished as a third voice spoke.

“Are you kidding? These are the fun ones!”

To your horror, someone started forcing up your skirt while the two men who had grabbed your hands and hair respectively grabbed you with renewed strength. You attempted to worm out of their clutches, but they weren’t underestimating your strength anymore and held you so hard you lost feeling in your scalp and hands. Tears gathered anew in the corners of your eye as a sickly sweet soju breath washed over your nose, and it was only barely you managed to dodge away from the mouth that accompanied that breath. The man didn’t seem to mind, however. He started licking your cheek, his stubble scratching your skin like microscopic razor blades, while he forced his body between your legs. Your muffled screams turned into pitiful sobs as the sound of an unbuckling belt reached your ears, and the already bottomless dread inside your chest tripled as he merely snickered in response.

“This is going to hurt, little heiress. But don’t hold back - I like hearing your voice.”

You wished you could have just passed out due to all the panic accumulating within you. You wished there was some kind of mental technique that you could use to just turn off all your senses. You wished you could die on command, and as the man’s fingers reached the waistband of your underwear, you screamed at your heart to stop beating.

And suddenly, you felt nothing.

For a moment, you really thought you had died. You had heard stories about ancient warriors and devoted servants who were able to kill themselves using nothing but mental strength, but you had thought those were nothing but legends. Had you perhaps been stupid for thinking that?

No. Reality soon settled when you realized the faint pounding sound in the back of your head was the rhythm of your heart. However, nobody was holding you down and you were able to squeeze your legs together again. There was another distant sound, a wet, repeating sound that crystallized the more you focused on it. Still, you couldn’t fully put your finger on what it was.

Not until you reached up for your blindfold and untied it.

The room you found yourself in was in utter chaos. Rotting furniture, dirty clothes, soju bottles, beer cans, empty takeaway boxes lay scattered everywhere. Moonlight poured in through the barred windows, drenching everything in a pallid light, and the sour smell of old sweat and spilled alcohol, mixed with something darker, something heavier, something metallic made you wrinkle your nose. And it wasn’t difficult to understand why.

For spread throughout the room, just like the rotting furniture, dirty clothes, soju bottles, beer cans and empty takeaway boxes, were the bodies of fourteen men.

Their balaclavas had all been torn off. Some wore guises of shock, others of fear while one or two looked like they had expected to die. Among the lattermost was the owner of the younger male’s voice, whose eyes you recognized. Nobody moved.

All except for one.

You didn’t know who it was. If it was Gyoung-Su, or the man who had pulled up your skirt. It did not matter, though.

Because nobody, not even the two of them, deserved the ruthless, methodical beating Jung-Hyun inflicted on them.

“Jung-Hyun?”

Even though the tape had made a loud tearing sound in the deathly silent that dominated the whole house, which you realized it was, he didn’t react. It wasn’t until you spoke his name that he froze, mid-punch.

“Jung-Hyun?” you whispered again.

“I saved him for last. The man who was on top of you.”

You shivered, but not because you were cold. Because although you understood mentally that it was Jung-Hyun who had replied, it didn’t feel like him. It felt like another person, a stranger, had replaced him. It felt as if though he was possessed.

“Okay,” you said as you shakily pulled down your skirt and got to your feet. “But don’t you think you’ve done enough? He’s barely breathing.”

“Yes. I wanted to drag this out for as long as I could.”

“Please,” you pleaded and took a tentative step toward him. “It’s enough, Jung-Hyun. Please stop.”

“I will. But not yet.”

And with that, he slammed the man’s head into the edge of a table. First once, then twice. Then again when a piece of the table broke. Then again when that piece broke. Then against the floor.

Jung-Hyun kept going until there no longer was a head you could distinguish.

When his grip of the man’s neck finally loosened, it almost felt reluctant. His face was shadowed by his own silhouette, but you saw that he kept looking at the bloody and beaten body. Like he was waiting for it to just rise again. Or perhaps secretly wishing it would.

Just so that he could break him again.

However, when Jung-Hyun finally turned to face you, there were tears in his eyes. Tears of relief, sadness, shock - perhaps all of them combined.

He reached out for you with a blood-soaked hand. “(Y/N)--”

The next word never reached your ears. Because in that instant, your whole world was torn asunder by a sound so loud your hearing went missing temporarily.  

A gunshot.

And as Jung-Hyun crumbled to the ground, his face locked in pain, he revealed the shooter standing behind him.

[logankocon1]

Asteroids Development Post

Looking back on my original elevator pitch for this Asteroids game, I didn’t realise how much would be required to develop the simple Asteroids-style mechanics and the extra abilities for the player. This post will detail the process I went through and the final outcome for my rendition of Asteroids.

Similar to the platformer, my basis for developing this game was to follow the tutorial slides, creating a simple but functional game. After the tutorial, I had functioning ship movement (following the mouse cursor), a working gun that fires bullets in a set interval, a system for spawning large asteroids with a random texture (from a set of 3), and a simple game over screen.

The first thing I developed on my own was the firing engines mechanic (dash). This was trivial, as all I needed to do was add a large force for about a second when the “shift” key was pressed, then set the motion of the object to zero, resetting movement after the dash. However, I wanted the number of possible dashes to be limited, so I added a new “Charge” variable that incremented for every asteroid destroyed and was spent to use special abilities. At first, I set the cost to 5 “charge” but decided 10 was more balanced after some testing. I also decided I wanted a visible fire coming out of the back of the ship while it was dashing, and the given triangular ship texture was too simple. I created a new ship texture and a variant with fire coming out of the ship. 

Player ship texture

Next, I wanted to add more variety to the asteroids, similar to the original game. I made it so that when an asteroid is destroyed, two smaller asteroids spawn, flying in random directions. To do this, I added a medium asteroid and a small asteroid object, and spawned them with a force towards a random angle when a larger asteroid was destroyed. No asteroids are spawned when a small asteroid is destroyed. They also spawn with a random texture, giving more variety. 

To add the beam weapon ability, I created a custom beam texture that would temporarily spawn in front of the player when “1” was pressed on the keyboard. After the beam sprite is spawned, I also stop the player, making it so that the position of the beam is fixed and giving a moment of vulnerability to the player every time it is fired (this is a design choice). I also have to rotate the beam to match the angle the ship is facing. To create the mine ability, I created two more custom textures: a mine texture and a (really bad) explosion texture. When the player presses the “2” key, it spawns a mine object at that position that will, after a few seconds, spawn an explosion object, which is much bigger and destroys anything it collides with (player included). Finally, I set a required charge cost for both abilities and subtracted that amount from the charge when they are used.

Mine texture

Beam texture

For balancing the ability costs, I found that the dash costing 10 charge felt like a good balance, and I knew I wanted the other abilities to cost more than the dash. At first, I tried having the beam cost 20 and the explosion cost 30, which felt like a good cost for the beam ability only. Because of the delay between dropping the mine and the explosion, and the fact that it can also kill the player, the mine was much less effective than I imagined it would be. To fix this, I brought the mine’s price down to 20, same as the beam. This made the game feel more balanced and had the extra bonus of the player having to know fewer numbers. 

One final thing I did, mostly because I just couldn’t get the idea out of my head, was to update the game over screen, making it a view of space with destroyed ship pieces floating about. I created three new textures made from different parts of the ship texture, and added them as three new objects in the game over screen. I added an event that, at the start of the game over scene, created these three new objects and gave them a light force drifting away from each other. Finally, I moved the “game over” text and displayed the score.

Now, I never actually added any shop or roguelike mechanics that I outlined in the elevator pitch. I should probably stop saying I’m going to do that. Truthfully, I didn’t actually think I would have the time to implement any of this, but it sounded like a really cool idea for a game, and if I did have time, I would’ve, so I included it in the elevator pitch. I’m not sure this is the right approach, but it’s what I did. For the next game, now that I’m equipped with much more knowledge of game development and GDevelop, I will create an elevator pitch based on what I think is fun AND what I can implement in a relatively short amount of time.

Basic gameplay video

More gameplay videos can be found in the posts above.