#me: hang on what if i spend 2 hours writing THIS inSTEAD

[indecisivemuch]

Lovesick & Lovelorn

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You thought that Luke Castellan, your best friend, did not reciprocate your feelings for him. To cope, you wrote letters addressed to him and kept them in a box. What happens when one of your sisters finds it? Inspired by 'To All the Boys I've Loved Before' (fluff, best friends to lovers; you thought it was unreciprocated feelings, happy ending).

Note: Ahh, I'm so happy the show got renewed for season 2.

Word count: 3.3k

You were deeply convinced your fate was tied to one with eternal lovelorn. 

Three years ago, you arrived at Camp Half-Blood and settled into the Hermes cabin before you were claimed by your Godly parent. It was there that you met Luke Castellan - one of your soon-to-be best friends. Though, you knew you were doomed from your first glance into his eyes. Then came his friendly smile and an offer of a handshake, where his hand engulfed yours.

At first, you thought that silly little crush would dissipate. But over time, as you became close friends with the Hermes cabin counselor, you were almost convinced he was faultless. You seemed to adore every little thing about him. Along with the fondness that grew in your heart was also self-pity. At one point, even looking at him hurt because you knew he did not return your feelings.

Hence, the letters.

In between your memories of Luke were letters you wrote throughout those years just to cope with the unreciprocated feeling. It was painful, but what else could you do? You truly believed confessing would put your friendship at risk. Neither did you feel like dealing with the heartache of a rejection. So you never uttered any of your feelings to him, continuing to imprint it on lined papers instead.

You scowled as the pen you were using ran out of ink, leaving the latest edition of unspoken words unfinished. Wordlessly, you fold the incomplete letter into an envelope and shove it into the turquoise box you bought while returning from a quest once. You neatly put the box under your bed.

“Y/N, it’s time to head out,” one of your sisters repeated. Two minutes ago, people were starting to leave, so those on cleaning duties could clean up your cabin. Since you were mid-writing, you hastily asked for a few more seconds. Now, you were the only one left besides two of your sisters.

“Yes, sorry,” you quickly muttered, exiting the cabin and almost immediately bumped into Luke. “Hey, what are you doing here?” you asked.

“I’m here for you. I thought we should hang out,” Luke answered ever so casually. Yet, your heart swelled at the thought that he was there for you. Before you could reply, you two were interrupted by another camper, who told you that one of your other best friends needed you and that it was an emergency.

“I’m so sorry, we’re gonna have to take a rain check on that hangout,” you informed Luke. You slowly started walking backward and away from him. “I’ll see you later, though?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Come find me whenever you’re done, yeah?” Luke requested, hoping to spend time with you later. His soft look made you pause mid-step, almost as if your foot had been cemented to the stones beneath. You nodded absentmindedly before snapping out of that state to comfort your friend.

After two hours of listening to your friend and comforting them, you finally left their cabin to search for Luke, who previously told you to find him after. However, around half an hour later, you slowly gave up at the thought of doing so, feeling almost defeated.

As you turned to head back to your cabin, you spotted the Hermes counselor exiting his. You called out his name, watching his back stiffen before he turned to you. You ignored the odd behavior and recalled, “I’m free now if you’re down to hang out.”

“I’m so sorry, but I’m really busy right now.”

“Uhm, well, I guess I’ll just meet you at our spot whenever you’re done then?” you suggested. You and Luke fell into a routine of star-gazing every night.

Laying under the dark sky that painted your whole horizon often made you feel small. But something about that was so calming, especially considering most of the time, you were suffocated by the weight and duties of being a Demigod. You wondered if it was the moment or if it was Luke’ presence that aided your momentary peace.

“I really, really can’t tonight, I have a lot of things to do.”

“Oh… that’s okay. I’ll see you around?” you replied, watching as Luke fidgeted and gulped while attempting to look normal. It was futile, really, because being best friends meant you could sense when the slightest thing was even off. He nodded, and you retreated to your cabin with thoughts swirling in your head.

Then came the next few torturous and confusing days. For the last two years, Luke would always approach you - almost daily, and vice versa. Being best friends with Luke has been wonderful. Every day together felt like a blessing.

Now, it seemed almost like he was avoiding you. He would find a new excuse whenever you approached. He wouldn’t even look in your direction. Yesterday, you made eye contact with him, and he turned away abruptly, facing his back towards you.

You had enough after day three. You went to your cabin after dinner and reached under your bed with one hand. You did not want to, but this would perhaps be your first-ever letter of anguish about Luke Castellan.

The box…where is the box?

You peered under your bed, mouth hanging open when your eyes could not spot it either. You looked up and around, hoping maybe you had misplaced it somewhere, even though part of you knew you had put it under your bed. You have always done so.

“Hey, have you seen a turquoise box?” you asked your sister as she walked by.

“Oh, the rectangle one, about this big?” your sister reconfirmed, using her hand to show you the size she indicated.

“Yes, that one.”

“Oh, I gave it to Luke.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I was cleaning the cabin three days ago, accidentally knocked it over and saw letters addressed to him. He was right by the door, so I thought maybe I should just deliver them to him.”

Blood drained from your face, and your heart plummeted. Anything else your sister seemed to be talking about started sounding like murmurs, and you could not focus on a word she was saying. Your worst nightmare seemed to have arrived. Somehow, your friendship with him had ended without you knowing. No wonder he has been avoiding you these past few days. He has read them all.

“I need to go,” you quickly muttered, storming out of your cabin. You could feel your body slightly shaking from the panic. No amount of Demigod training had prepared you for moments like these. Then you saw Luke walking over you…with the box in his hands. You took a deep breath and practically forced your voice box to work.

“Listen, Luke—”

“I didn’t think you’d buy birthday gifts that early, Y/N,” he interrupted.

“What?” you questioned and observed the sweet smile gracing his Adonis-like face.

“This?” he gestured to the box. “Your sister gave it to me and said it was from you. Though I thought I should give it back ‘cause it’s not my birthday yet, you might have wanted to give it to me yourself.”

“Oh…” it was the only thing you could utter as it dawned on you what he had perceived the situation as. “Wait, so you haven’t opened it?” you clarified.

“Nope.”

“...So we’re ok?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?” your mouth hung slightly agape at his words. As you scrunch your eyebrows, you could see how his fingers fidget somewhat, almost as if he could tell you would bring his odd behavior up.

“You’ve been acting really odd the last few days, Luke. It had me worried. I thought I did something wrong. It seems like you were avoiding me.”

“I was just really busy with counselor duties,” he dismissed it. However, something about it made you a bit hesitant to believe his words. You did it anyway, nevertheless. You blamed it on your stupid heart.

“Yeah, but—” you stopped, not wanting to stir anything. “Ok then, I’m going to put this away, but I’ll see you later, yeah? Maybe we can finally not rain check again?” You hated how hopeful you sounded. You’re glad that the sun had set a few minutes ago, blessing you with enough degree of darkness to hide your facial expressions from being as evident as they would be in daylight.

“Of course, I’ll see you later, Y/N,” despite the dark and only dim lights from nearby, you noticed there was something different about him. Luke was wearing a nervous smile, almost sheepish like a schoolboy. There was a glimmer of amazement in his eyes like he was in disbelief. Though it was definitely overpowered by a glaring degree of warmth. He was looking at you like all those writers have written down in the books you have read before - something along the lines of adoration and love.

You shook those thoughts away again, refusing to somehow fool yourself into believing he could reciprocate those feelings.

“Yeah, see you,” you muttered, hand gripping tightly on the box as you took it from his hold. As soon as you reached your cabin, you opened the box to peer inside. You immediately sighed in relief upon seeing the copious amount of letters with your handwriting on them, all with Luke’s name on the front.

However, your eyes landed on one unfamiliar one. It had your name on it, written in a familiar wonky handwriting that you have always found endearing.

You sat on your bed, taking the letter out delicately, almost in disbelief. Then, dread overtook any other emotion. Was this Luke’s way of letting you down easy? By pretending to not have read any of your letters and rejecting you through the form that you express your love to him? — you had to physically shake your head at that thought.

You took the letter out of its envelope and started reading: 

‘Dear Y/N,

This is probably the 40th time I tried writing this letter. It feels impossible to try and convey everything onto one piece of paper.

You deserve someone to at least view you as their muse rather than always being the writer. 

Hence why, for the past few days, I had to physically drag myself away from you every time you tried approaching me because I knew if I didn’t, I would just end up spilling my feelings out right then. I knew if I even looked at you, I would have just abandoned this letter idea and run to you. You should have seen me yesterday. When we made eye contact, I had to turn away from you because having the knowledge of you liking me back was enough to knock all the air out of my lungs. I was a flustered mess from just that eye contact.

I doubt my words could rival what you have written about me. You once wrote how it hurts to love someone this much and to always be the poet but never the poem. Well, I’d like to thank you for making me your poems. However, now it is your turn. Allow me to be your poet.

You occupy my mind like it’s your castle. If I had to name everything I love about you, this letter would never end. But for starters, here are some of the first times:

The first time Chiron introduced you to the Hermes cabin, I could not take my eyes off you. Chris had to nudge me away. Just from that alone, a part of me knew I was in trouble. I think I came to the conclusion that I did not want to hold anybody else’s hand after just shaking yours.

2.5 years back during a campfire in June, even when the fire had died and the air grew cold, our voices still filled the air. Conversations just flow when I am with you. I remember never wanting that moment to end. Then you started talking about constellations and told me about the ones above us. Right there and then was the first time I had the urge to kiss you, and to show you that I was just as obsessed with you as you were with stars.

The first time I realized I was in love with you was while coming back from a quest 2 years ago. I remember feeling so numb coming back. The world almost seemed monotone, and I wondered for a second, what if I had made one wrong move? Just as I returned to camp, you bolted and hugged me. Somehow, it felt like I had just taken my first bit of fresh air after drowning for so long. I vividly recall shutting my eyes as I hugged you back because I felt like I was finally home. I remember never wanting to be away or out of your hold as others approached and rushed to get me into the infirmary for checkups.

It was only when I was lying on the infirmary bed that it hit me like a train that lost control. A large proportion of why I fought so hard was to come back to you. You’re my best friend, Y/N, and my place of solace and peace. Then came the realization that I was in love with you. I remember everybody else’s voice drowning out as I focused on that thought. It was strangely calming, as if my heart had known all along but was waiting for my head to catch up. Then I remember just smiling as I looked at the ceiling, unafraid of the new feeling.

Last year, the day we went on a quest together lapsed with Valentine’s Day. Every moment felt extra sweet. Us sitting on the train, staring outside the window together like a couple going on a trip. My mind savoured the small things like you falling asleep on my shoulder with my coat around you and us holding hands as we walked through the crowd to not get lost among couples - which I like to imagine that others had thought we were one as well. It was the first time I allowed myself to pretend this is how it would feel like if you were mine and how our lives together would be if we were not Demigods.

I thought for sure you would have realized something by the way I was staring and acting around you that I was irrevocably in love with you. After reading your letters, I realized that you did see it. But you refused to believe that I could ever be in love with you. Well, I hope my letters will reverse all your doubts, because Y/N, it is so easy to fall in love with you. 

In fact, the world I built up in my head during last year’s quest had consumed my thoughts enough to make me frown at the idea of returning to camp, where it would not just be the two of us anymore. Loving you has never been something I was afraid of. Loving you has been an honour every single day, even if you never knew of it. 

It’s also somewhat funny that I was heavily lovesick while you were lovelorn. But I promise, Y/N, that from this second on, I intend to make you know that you are loved and that I am so deeply in love with you.

Again, I never intended for you to wait for three days, but I ended up throwing away every letter I started because I felt like none had suffice. I didn’t want to mess it up and give you something less than you deserved. I wanted to do something nice for you. I promise I’ll make it up for those three days if you allow me to. But one chance is all I need.

If you are willing to give me that chance, you know where to find me.

Sincerely,

Luke Castellan’

Upon reading his last words, you immediately left your cabin with the letter in hand. You jogged to the spot where the two of you would always meet to stargaze together. Almost instantly, you saw his tall figure under the moonlight. As if he could sense your presence, the Hermes boy turned around and gave you a sweet smile.

“You meant it?” you asked as you raised the letter up, slowly approaching him.

“Every single word, including all the unspoken ones I intend on telling you from now on,” the way he said it felt like he was swearing it on his own heart. “In fact, I would have written more down, but I knew I was keeping you waiting for too long,” he explained as you stopped right before him.

Something about this moment felt cathartic. Three years of dancing around unspoken words and yearning led to this moment. Luke grabbed your hand and rubbed his thumb over your knuckle. You peered up at him, and it was then that you finally accepted what his looks meant: he was in love with you, and there was no doubt about that. There was no more denial on your end that Luke Castellan was enamored with you.

“Will you let me be your poet, Y/N?” he breathlessly referenced the words you and him had both previously written like he had been waiting for this for a lifetime.

“Of course,” you answered almost without hesitation, watching his eyes soften even more, if possible.

“Is it ok if I ask you another question?” he asked again, his other hand caressing your cheek.

“Yeah?” Your face flushed as you saw his brown eyes dart to your lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

This time, you didn’t say anything. You’ve written down way too many words in the past three years. You decided actions would speak louder in this case. So you pulled Luke down by his camp necklace, hands gripping the beads on it as you tiptoed up to reach his lips. 

Luke physically melted as he brought one hand to your waist to hold you up as he leaned down from the height difference. Everything Luke had imagined before could not match the kiss he was finally sharing with you - the kiss that seemed to seal his lips into a spell that would forever leave them unable to belong to anyone else. It felt like heaven and hell combined because he knew that this was going to ruin him forever, and every second he spent with his eyes shut would be one where he had this feeling and moment sown behind his eyelids. 

You had the same line of thoughts. The wait was long, but you felt like it was worth it. Under the stars, you may feel small. But standing there next to Luke, you finally realize it doesn’t matter. Because he was holding you like you were the only thing that mattered.

You were his sun, moon, and everything in between - no constellations could ever measure to you.

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

masterlist

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taglist: @nininehaaa @perseus-jackass @tanifsblog @bubbly0 @hinata7346

[blkgirl-writing]

Hi, I saw your smut requests post and was wondering if you could write one about touch starved Gale finally being alone with reader/Tav and getting his satisfaction? (Yeah, I got inspired by your nsfw headcanons about him, how could you tell?) Please and thank you!

PS Can I be 🧀 anon?

What happened at the moon lit pond

Gale X Fem!Reader

Baldurs gate 3

It’s been, probably three years since I’ve written a full fanfic? I’ll admit I’m probably a little rusty. Thank y’all for hanging in, and I hope this fulfills our nerdy wizard boy needs. thank you so much 🧀 anon for the request! I hope you stay and request some more.

Important tags: lots of pining, some angst (no sad ending), smutty (male and female Masterbation, male giving female oral), spoilers for gales mid game story, romance, Gale is an anxious mess, The thought of gale brushing his hair from his face got me GOING 😩

Word count: 1.9k

(Part 1.5 HERE) (PART 2 HERE)

(Gale headcanons that inspired this here)

-

Gale didn’t know how to handle these new feelings for you. He makes a fool of himself everyday, it seems. He always offers you a slice of his bread, even if you gave your own, he saves some of his own morning coffee for you, since he wakes up earlier, and even warm it up for you with a spell.

He simply wanted you to like him. That would be all he needed, but anything else that may follow that would be a true blessing. Gale wanted nothing more than to make you laugh, to see your smile and know he was the reason why, to camp and be the first and last person you’d speak to before sleep.

Gale wouldn’t let his mind wander much past that, or he tried to not let it. The occasional dream would slip through where you were his, and he was yours. It simply put him in panic mode In the waking hours, trying to not be obvious, scared you’d find out, what exactly? He wasn’t sure. You were too kind to break his heart so effortlessly, like he feared you would.

Endless scenarios danced in gales head of rejection, humiliation, and what would happen if he let himself go, life he was tasked to do. It wouldn’t take much, to convince him to live. Friendship, a place to call home, even if it was ever moving. Company he could entrust his life to. It was all so appealing. Luring him into life, breathing a new passion into his purpose, one he’d lost many years ago, sometime when he was alone for so many years.

Those thoughts seemed to linger on forever, sweeping over his barely conscious brain to awaken him again, rustling him from what could be a good nights rest. Eventually, Gale decided to just get up and go for a walk.

Camp had been set up in one of the most beautiful places any of you had seen. Waterfalls tinted emerald green, sand fine and shimmering in the light, may it be sun or moon. I’m one of those waterfalls, he found you.

Waist deep in the pond. Skin and hair dripping wet, shining more than usual water would, adding a silver glow to the night. You looked better than a goddess could ever imagine, and still, his eyes never dipped below you shoulders, even though he deeply wanted to look lower. Instead, he stood there, looking like a fucking idiot, gods know how long. Maybe a tree branch snapped, or maybe you finally snapped out of your trance, but your head whipped in his direction, eyes darting across the small beach, only relaxing when you realize only gale stands before you.

“Oh, Gale, it’s just you…” you let out a deep, jagged breath, the anxiety flowing out of your body just as quickly as it racked through it.

“Just? Are you disappointed?” Gale smirked, although his heart raced in his chest, one word and he'd sulk back to camp, but gods he wanted to stay and spend the whole night with you under the stars.

“Far from it, really. I was just thinking about how much you’d enjoy this view if you were here” you tore your eyes away from Gale, focusing on the stars. “I thought it may remind you of waterdeep. You paint a very beautiful picture of home.”

“I can think of a few things much, much more beautiful than Waterdeep,” his voice low, raspier than usual. Easily explained away from the lack of sleep or old sleeping bags, not for what it really was. Deep yearning, wanting, needing.

“I’d love to see them someday, then.”

“We’ll just have to get you a mirror, then,” “All the beauty in the world would reflct

"Gale, I-" You finally looked into his eyes, he wore his heart on his sleeve, at least for a moment. Those puppy eyes, dark bust glistening in the full moonlight, his hair messy from turning in his sleep, he wanted you, in many more ways than one. Gale's emotions could never be that simple, of course.

"Well," you walked towards him, water inching lower and lower, revealing more and more of your body, yet gales eyes stayed on yours. "Why don't you join me for a swim. It's a beautiful night."

"an offer I could not refuse." Gale's face was plastered with that cocky smile, the one that could melt anyone into a puddle in seconds.

He might have been a gentleman and kept his eyes upwards, but you were not so much, Gale untied his robes, gods why were there so many damn layers? It was quite a sight, his little mannerisms that showed more of him to you than he had shown to you. He was nervous, his fingers missing the simple ties frequently, he got annoyed by his hair getting in his eyes, a grimace appearing before he swept his hair behind his ear.

Your eyes lingered on his circle smoke tattoo, his toned arms, his downright massive hands. he was more tan than you realized, To be fair, he's always covered in those loose robes, leaving you to wonder what was underneath. You were more than happy to finally be finding out. But not below the waist.

"Isn't it a bit cold to be this naked?"

"The water is warmer than the air, I promise." You extended a hand out to Gale, even though he was feet away from you. "Come on, Gale from Waterdeep being afraid of some cold water? Sounds redundant."

"You got me there." He finally stepped into the glimmering pond surrounded by rocks and sand, enough to have your own little corner, to lessen the echo if it was needed. The whole camp didn't need to know all of your business. It must've been a magical lake, as both you and Gale noted separately. Unnaturally still, even when you moved freely, small glowing lights pooled at your sides, occasionally bubbling into the air once you leaned against a large, bright rock.

"May I ask what you were doing out here at this hour?" Gale spoke, still much further away from you than he wanted to be,

"Can I not take a mid-night swim?" You raised your brows in a questioning glance his way "A woman needs time to herself. These days and nights have been very stressful."

Gales very audible oh, slipped through the silence. "You don't have to relax alone." His eyes finally gave in to the need, scanning your body with a low moan slipping past his lips. His excitement was immediate, brushing against your lower stomach all the way past your navel.

"You've wanted this." You stated, brushing your hand against his thigh.

"There's plenty of magic around us, I want the Gale right in front of me." You dared to inch even closer, his thigh fully slipping between yours, inches away from touching your pussy. His hands floated inches from your waist, "Let me give you everything"

"Give me everything" With that, Gale's hand grabbed your waist, gently guiding you onto his thigh, motioning your hips down and swaying only him. The sensation sent sparks flying through his body, you were right in front of him, completely bare and rocking with pleasure onto him. Better than any dream he'd thought up, any fantasy that ran through his head even at the most inappropriate of times. Yes even during the throws of battle. Even in hard times like that, he was so drawn to you.

Gales other hand came up to your jawline, tilting your head so he could latch his mouth around your neck. Deep marks left behind while he inches his way in hickeys up your neck, jaw, and finally to your lips. Any semblance of anonymity flew out the window, not a single person could miss what he gave you, artfully placed dark spots painting your skin. "I have never seen such a beautiful being in my life"

"I could say the same about you gale," You said betwixt breathy moans, picking up the pace of your grinding hips against his thigh, his hand on your waist moving between a tight grip on your ass, and a light but so effective caress of your clit. Every time you got so close, his fingers moved, he was teasing you. His cocky smirk felt even through his kiss.

"I want you to come on my mouth." As if he was reading your slightly frustrated thoughts, "I want to taste you in my dreams."

All you could manage was a frantic nod, a mumbled yes, and shakily hoisting yourself up onto a rock that was perfect for gales pretty head to be between your thighs. Gale pushed your thighs apart with one hand, which stayed firmly grabbing onto you. The other sneaked up your thigh, tracing patterns along your skin. "Gale, please," you whispered out of pure desperation. The only warmth coming from your feet still in the water, otherwise your skin exposed to the biting air.

"All you had to do was ask, my lady" Gales fingers easily slid into you, curling up and pumping in and out, while he leaned into your pussy, maintaining eye contact as he placed one kiss just to the right of where you needed him to be. All he needed was to be touched, to touch you. Your legs wrapped around him to get Gale even closer, urging him closer.

"Touch yourself" Barely a whisper, but Gale caught it, and certainly didn't need to be told twice. Secretly, he could cum from this alone, your taste, how soft you were, how loud you could get. It was more than enough to orgasm right there with you, however, that is not exactly how he wanted your first sexual experience to go. His hand clutching your thigh came to his cock, rubbing much faster and harder than he was fingering you. he was eager. He wanted this to last forever, he wanted you to cum again and again and again into his mouth. He wanted his face even more dripping from your juices.

"Gale I can't hold it-" You nearly screamed, his tongue swirling and sucking, lightly biting, it was almost too much. Then, he moaned. A loud, deep moan and that was it. Vibrations running through your body from his mouth. there noise that left your mouth could've been heard across Baldurs gate, you silently thanked this magical pound for being so secluded, as you would be borderline embarrassed if people heard. Gales didn't come back up for hair until he was sure you were finished, getting every last drop of you.

"You certainly are loud" Gales tone was so smug it almost made you laugh. You gripped onto his shoulders as he swept you down from the perch, pressing his whole body to yours. After all that, after her definitely came, he was still so hard, and so pressed against you that you couldn't help but gasp. "I want to hear that again."

"Hear what, exactly?" you teased, lifting a finger to trace his chest.

"To hear you cum," his lips dipped down to your ear, slightly nibbling on it, before he rasped "and to feel you on my cock."

-

Part two, here

(Requests Open)

[imaginespazzi]

Part 4: Warning Bells

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

I don't think I can do this again (do you remember it too?)

(In which a self-admittedly all over the place writer takes you on a bit of a rollercoaster)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Pining (the usuals)

Words: 6.1K

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Guess who made a deadline again? I'm as shocked as y'all are but I do wanna just warn y'all that August is gonna be really busy for me so as much as I'm gonna try to stick to schedule, there's a pretty good chance I won't. I really appreciate y'alls feedback with live-reacts/long reviews and it's truly the motivating factor behind my writing so pretty please keep sending them. I did edit (as usual) but please let me know the most likely existent typos anyway. As always, let me know what you liked, disliked and what you wanna see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033 

Here’s what Azzi has learned about motherhood: having kids means that there will come many times in your life, when you will look around you and wonder how the hell did I get here. It’s that thought that’s currently plaguing her as she finishes hanging up the WELCOME HOME banner on the living room wall in her ex-girlfriend’s new apartment. And when she’s talking about kids, she’s not talking about her five year old who’s currently sticking purple hearts on every surface she can find. No, she’s talking about her 6’5 teammate who she’d once “adopted” as a joke in college, but who’s basically become her surrogate child ever since they’d ended up on the same WNBA team. 

It had started as a casual conversation when Jana, as she often did, had shown up for an impromptu lunch. The topic of Paige was hard to avoid considering it was Stephie’s favorite subject, heightened by the fact that Paige was coming back soon and Stephie was far too excited to finally have her Miss Buecks back. Jana was more than happy to indulge the little girl in conversation about what Paige had been like at UConn. And if Azzi had lost herself in those memories for a moment, transported back in time to a world that had once been blooming with promise before wilting in a darkness she’d created herself, well, she’d done an excellent job not letting it show on her face. 

The real issue had started when Jana had casually let slip her idea of surprising Paige with a little welcome party. And as Stephie had started reciting all the different things they could do -because of course me and Mama will help you Aunty J, Azzi had glared at Jana, only to receive an innocent smile in return that told her everything she needed to know. She’d been set up. 

That’s how, instead of spending her Saturday curled up on her comfortable couch with a book in her hands, Azzi is here instead and in true fashion, she’s the only one actually getting anything done. Jana, who had just left about twenty minutes ago to pick Paige up, had invited some of the other girls on the team to come help out yet, something about more hands on deck. Those supposed helpful hands had spent the last hour blowing up and popping balloons and getting nothing else done.

“I can’t believe y’all have me decorating for the woman who cost me my first national championship,” Joyce laments, “I still have nightmares from that game.”

“You gotta let that hurt go Aunty Joy,” Stephie says impishly, mimicking what Jana would normally say whenever the infamous 2025 South Carolina vs UConn national championship got brought up. 

“Don’t sass me Miss Stephanie,” Joyce sticks out her tongue at the little girl, throwing a purple balloon at Stephie’s head, “hasn’t your Mama taught you that we don’t mock people’s pain.”

“Ignore her Steph,” Tessa says, bumping her former Gamecock teammate as she shares a devilish grin with Azzi’s daughter, “she’s just upset she only won one. Some of us have two.”

Joyce guffaws, throwing another balloon, this time aimed at Tessa, “dude we’re supposed to be on the same team. What would Coach Staley say to you teaming with UConn people of all things to bully me?”

“She’d thank me for making sure you didn’t get a big head,” Tessa snipes back. 

Whatever response Joyce has to that quip is cut short by the doorbell ringing and Azzi feels her heartbeat quicken as Stephie lets out a squeal, dropping everything to go answer it. Things had been different since the facetime call almost two weeks ago. They’d accidentally on purpose settled into a routine where Stephie would call Paige at exactly 7 p.m. and Paige would answer on the first ring, promising to stay on the phone till the little girl fell asleep. And it would’ve been fine if that’s all it was. But then Paige started staying on the phone till after Stephie fell asleep and suddenly it was like they were back to their teenage selves, talking about everything and nothing, trying to learn every page of each other’s story all over again. 

Azzi had missed so much about Paige in the last couple of years but there was nothing she’d missed more than just talking to her best friend. She’d missed the way Paige would tell a story, going off on a million tangents in between. She’d missed the way her eyes would light up when she got to a particularly exciting part of the story, specks of gold shimmering in the blue like sunlight hitting the ocean. She’d missed the way Paige’s hands would be flying animatedly all over the place, even when she was whispering. She’d missed the way the blonde would pause halfway through to observe if Azzi was still listening, making sure all of the attention was still on her. And she’d missed the way that when it was Azzi’s turn to speak, Paige would hang onto every word like it was gospel, intently listening like she’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t recite everything Azzi had just said from memory. She’d missed the way Paige would let her emotions freely flicker across her face, because whatever happened to Azzi, Paige felt it too. 

She’d missed and missed, convinced the pain would be the end of her, until she’d tricked her mind into forgetting. And now Azzi’s beginning to realize that remembering it all again, might just be the thing that kills her. 

“Nevermind,” Stephie walks back to the room, sulking slightly, “it’s just Aunty Liyah.”

“Oh thanks Stephie babe. That makes me feel so wonderful,” Aaliyah says, walking in behind Stephie with an offended expression on her face, “and here I thought bringing cupcakes would make me popular.”

“Tell me those are store-bought Chavez. I ain’t trusting them if you made them yourselves,” Joyce says, side-eyeing the cupcakes. 

“Trust me I would never waste my precious time baking for y’all ungrateful ass-”

“Aaliyah,” Azzi shoots her younger teammate a sharp look.

“-ungrateful people,” Aaliyah corrects sheepishly, “cupcakes because y’all clearly don’t appreciate me.”

“I pre-ciate you Aunty Liyah,” Stephie says innocently, trying to get a better look at the aforementioned cupcakes, “you got the pu-ple ones right? They have to be pu-ple for Miss Buecks.”

Aaliyah bends down to Stephie’s level to show her the box of sweet treats “the perfect purple cupcakes for your Miss Buecks. How come you never wanna do nice things like this for us Stephie?”

“Because Miss Buecks is special,” Stephie retorts matter-of-factly.

“Oh so we’re not special?” Tessa asks, raising an eyebrow at Stephie.

“‘Course you are but Miss Buecks is special-er.”

And while her teammates all pretend to dramatically gasp at that, shaking their heads at Stephie, Azzi feels like someone’s squeezing her heart, twisting and twisting but never fully breaking it. She wonders if that might hurt less.

It’s another 10 minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Azzi watches her daughter’s face break into an incandescent grin, filled with hope, as she rushes to open the door because it has to be Paige this time. Azzi follows after her, trying to keep her breathing under control as anticipation clings to her nerves. Azzi’s gotten so spectacularly good at lying to herself that she tells herself this next one with ease: there’s not a single part of her that’s eager to see Paige again. 

“SURPRISE,” Stephie screams, flinging the front door open with as much strength as she can muster. She doesn’t give Paige a chance to react before she’s throwing herself against the blonde’s legs, hugging her thighs. 

It takes a second for Paige to register what’s happening, but when she does, it’s Azzi she’s looking at. Everything seems to move in slow motion as they stare at each other, the reality of the moment suddenly settling in. Paige is here. In Oakland. They’re going to be teammates; they’re going to see each other almost every day. Just like they used to. Except nothing is like it used to be and as that bitter truth comes up like bile in Azzi’s throat, she has to force herself to look away. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie calls out, tugging at the hem of Paige’s white shirt to get her attention, “do you like my surprise?”

Paige tears her eyes away from Azzi, leaning down to pick Stephie up before peppering her faces with kisses and making the younger girl squeal in delight, “best surprise ever.”

And Azzi really, really, can’t watch this. Not when it makes her want to walk over and cocoon herself in with the two of them, makes her want to pretend that she’s living in another life, one where she hadn’t thrown away the chance of a happily ever after with the girl she’d fallen in love with at fourteen, 

“Oh yeah Stephie, your surprise. Take all the credit. Not like the rest of us did anything,” Joyce rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, before pulling Paige into a one-armed hug, “welcome to the Bay Area Bueckers.”

Tessa and Aaliyah are next, both sharing warm hugs with their new teammate. Once they’ve had their turn, all eyes seem to turn to Azzi expectantly and the brunette blanches under their gaze. Other than Jana, who suddenly seems pretty heavily interested in the doorframe, the rest of her teammates don’t know about her past with Paige. So it’s only natural they’d expect her to greet Paige with all the cordiality of an old friend. 

“Y’all good?” Joyce asks slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you want me to introduce y’all or?”

“Shut up,” Azzi murmurs before drawing in a deep breath and stepping towards Paige. She tries not to fixate on the way Paige’s jaw flexes when the blonde swallows, tries not to think about all the patterns she’d once carved against that little patch of skin because she knew it drove Paige insane. The thing is Azzi can’t even really remember the last time they hugged beyond a for-the-cameras one at a game. But as she wraps her arms around Paige, the older woman’s breath tickling against her ear as she grips Azzi’s waist, it doesn’t feel that much different from how it used to be. Paige’s arms are still safe and strong and Azzi still wants to melt into them. But what’s different is that Stephie’s in between them now, tiny hands securely fastened around both of their necks. And Azzi almost, almost gives into the feeling of belonging as she whispers two simple words that mean just a little too much.

“Welcome home.”

***

Seven pairs of eyes watch as the movers move box after box after box into Paige’s apartment, until there’s more cardboard than floor visible. The three non-UConn girlies are wide-eyed as they watch the pile grow endlessly. Meanwhile Jana is laughing while Azzi tries to hide a smile behind her hands as the realization that she’d have to unpack all of her stuff hits Paige in waves, and her expression grows more and more somber. Once the movers are finally done, it’s Stephie, whose hand is still firmly clasped in Paige’s, who breaks the silence. 

“You have a lot of things Miss Buecks,” the little girl crinkles her nose, as she points out the obvious, “do you really need all of this stuff.”

“Of course I do Stephie,” Paige says indignantly and Azzi scoffs, earning her a withering glare from the blond. 

“Aight well it was nice to meet you-” Joyce starts, slowly backing away from the mess until Jana blocks her way. 

“Oh no you don’t. I told y’all we were all gonna help her move in. Call it team bonding,” the Egyptian says, her voice vaguely threatening. 

“Most of the team isn’t even here,” Aaliyah points out cautiously. 

“That’s not the point,” Jana rebukes, “alright team listen up. Here’s how this is going to go-”

“Maybe Paige should take charge. It is her apartment,” Tessa says slowly. 

“If we put Paige in charge she’ll tell us all to go home and procrastinate doing anything until after the season,” Azzi says, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. 

Paige pouts, “hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Oh you absolutely are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“O-kay,” Jana claps, breaking apart the bickering, “it’s good to see the two of you are apparently younger than Stephie,” she holds up a hands a both Paige and Azzi start to splutter in their defense, “now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted. We’re gonna split this up. Joyce and I are gonna do the living room. Aaliyah and Tessa, y’all are gonna fix the guest room. Which leaves,” Jana smiles, and it’s only because Azzi knows her so well that she can read the menacing sparkle behind it, “Paige and Azzi to tackle the master bedroom.”

They both open their mouths to protest but are quick to get cut off by an excited Stephie, “I’mma help Mama and Miss Buecks!”

“Of course you are, why would you ever help anybody else? Clearly you don’t love us anymore. Not since your precious Miss Buecks got here,” Joyce says dramatically and while Paige smirks and the rest of the girls pretend to act mock offended, Azzi uses the distraction to sidle up to Jana. 

“What the fuck are you playing at El-Alfy,” she hisses under hear breath.

Jana shrugs innocently, “the master bedroom is the hardest because Paige has so many fucking clothes so I’m letting y’all old heads do it. Some of us are below 30 ya know.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Azzi snaps. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fudd,” Jana says airily as she starts to unpack a box, leaving Azzi muttering curses under her breath. 

“Hey-”

Azzi spins around at the soft voice, only to find herself crashing against a solid body. It’s instinct, the way Paige’s hands immediately reach out to steady her and it’s instinct, the way Azzi’s hands grab at the lapels of the blond’s shirt. Goosebumps trails up her skin as Paige's breath, hot and heavy, fans across her face. They’re too close; way too close and yet the idea of stepping away feels like a sin. Azzi gulps as her thumb accidentally brushes Paige’s collarbone and the other woman shivers under her touch. She thinks she could probably get drunk off the feeling of knowing that she can still affect Paige like that. 

“You uh-” Paige swallows, fingers squeezing involuntarily against Azzi’s hip, “you don’t have to listen to Jana. I can- I can figure it out myself.”

“N-no,” Azzi stutters and she wonders if Paige feels a high from the way she still affects Azzi too, “there’s um- you have- uh- you have a lot of stuff. I can-,” she sucks in a deep breath, “I’ll help.”

“You sure?” there’s a vulnerable edge to Paige’s tone and any resolve Azzi could ever have melts immediately. 

“I want to help,” she says softly, letting a small smile slip onto her lips. 

The smile she gets in return is bright and sparkling, just like Paige herself and Azzi’s heart lurches, pleased to be the one receiving it, pleased to be the one who’d elicited it, “Good, cause I really wanted your help.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to ignore the warning bells blazing in her head at the fact that they’re still holding each other, “why’d you pretend you didn’t?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it first,” Paige says, biting at her bottom lip. It leaves a light mark and Azzi finds herself wanting to soothe it over with her own tongue.

She thinks it might have been easier if it was just a little harder to fall back into Paige. It shouldn’t be so simple to fall back into late night conversations, so simple to fall back into easy teasing, so simple to fall back into feeling at peace in Paige’s arms. But it is. 

“Mama, Miss Buecks,” it’s Stephie who breaks their bubble but instead of jumping away from each other like they should, they step apart only enough to let the little girl into the space between them, so she can lace her hands through both of theirs, “are you ready?”

“Before you go Paige,” Tessa calls out, holding up a clear bag of corner guards and edge protectors, “what are we doing with these?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously, “you um- you put them on the edge of like tables and stuff.”

“Bro but they’re for people who have children?” Joyce says, giving Paige a weird look, “you have a kid we don’t know about?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Stephie for a brief second and Azzi freezes, a warm realization tickling up her spine. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, their wings fluttering to the beat of what’s mine could have been ours. 

“Of course not. I’m just super clumsy so precautions and all that,” the blond explains, shooting Jana a glare when the taller woman barely masks a giggle, “quit procrastinating by asking all these questions and get to work.”

“Has anyone ever told you the importance of first impressions? Because I’m telling you Bueckers, using your teammates as unpaid labor the first time you meet them is not it,” Aaliyah gives Paige a pointed look. 

“This wasn’t even my idea in the first place,” Paige defends. 

“True,” Tessa nods with a sickly sweet smile, “but you’re gonna pay for the pizza anyways.”

“I’m not pay-”

“PIZZA,” Stephie squeals, “Miss Buecks you’re gonna get us Pizza?”

“Yeah Miss Buecks,” Azzi smickers, crossing her arms as Paige’s stubborn retort dies on her lips, “you gonna get us pizza?”

Paige glares at her before she’s swinging Stephie up onto her lap again. And she really needs to stop doing things like that because it’s not remotely good for Azzi’s mental health to watch the way Stephie seems to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, “of course I am Steph, what do you want?”

The two of them are lost in their own world discussing pizza toppings as Paige starts walking over to the master bedroom, until suddenly they're both turning around, looking at Azzi with identical expressions. And the brunette feels her heart tap out this could be my everything against her ribcage. 

“You coming Azzi?”

“Mama, are you coming?”

I’d go anywhere with the two of you, Azzi thinks as she nods her head, a light skip in her step as she moves to catch up with the two of them. 

“Of course I’m coming.”

***

Less than 10 minutes into trying to unpack, Azzi realizes that she’s the only one trying to unpack anything when she looks up from where she’s been folding t-shirts -trying and failing at not breathing in their familiar scent- to find Stephie decked in a colorful cardigan that goes all the way down to her toes, her feet clad in a pair of PB4’s that must be three times the size of her own shoes. A pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses hide almost her entire face as she strikes pose after pose and Paige diligently takes pictures of her. 

“YES Stephie,” the blond indulges, “work it girl. There you go babe, hold that pose for me. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

Stephie giggles and Azzi feels her heart constrict. Her favorite sound in the whole world has never sounded more like a signal for danger. 

“Ahem ahem,” she coughs, narrowing her eyes at the two people in front of her, “doesn’t look like y’all are unpacking to me.”

“Mama Miss Buecks has so many pretty clothes,” Stephie gushes, completely ignoring what her mother just said. 

“They’d look even prettier folded in her closet,” Azzi says pointedly. 

Stephie pouts, “you don’t think I look pretty?”

“You look really pretty in my clothes Stephie,” Paige cuts in, tapping the little girl on the nose before she turns her gaze towards Azzi, “just like your Mama used to.”

The silk material shirt slips out of Azzi’s hand as Paige’s words drizzle around her, like the rain after a drought. It takes every little bit of strength she can muster to force herself to ignore Paige’s words and pick up another shirt to fold even if she can’t stop the rouge tint that colors her face. There’s this part of her that’s been dormant for years but every little interaction with Paige threatens to awaken it and Azzi’s scared that if she lets that happen, she’ll never be able to put it to sleep again. 

“Just- just focus on unpacking,” Azzi mutters darkly. 

She spends the next hour or so, keeping her eyes downcast, her complete focus on the task at hand. Because if she looks up, if she lets herself see the way Stephie and Paige are folding clothes together while giggling about something, if she lets herself see the way Stephie climbs onto Paige’s back so the woman can give her a piggyback to the closet to deposit the folded clothes, she thinks she could fall in love with this moment, capture it behind her eyelids and let it live there forever. But this moment doesn’t belong to Azzi. Because Paige doesn’t belong to Azzi. Not anymore. 

Azzi’s taken away from her thoughts when she feels a tiny hand wrapping around her neck from behind, Stephie’s warm body pressing against her back and just like that, all the tension in her muscles seem to dissipate. 

“What’s up sweetheart,” she asks, turning her head to press her lips against her daughter’s temple. 

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says sweetly, “just wanted to give you a hug.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of helping Miss Buecks unpack?” Azzi asks slyly, pulling Stephie from behind her, so the little girl’s lying on her lap instead. She can feel Paige’s eyes focused on the two of them and even without looking, she thinks she knows what she’d find in them if she did. 

“Of course not Mama,” Stephie grins and then squeals as Azzi begins to tickle her. 

“I think you are,” Azzi sings-songs as she continues to poke at her daughter’s stomach, reveling in the way it makes the child laugh. 

“N-no Mama stop, stop,” Stephie manages to wrench herself out from Azzi’s grip, darting to hide behind Paige’s legs, “Miss Buecks save me.”

“There’s no saving you now Stephie-bear,” Azzi roars dramatically as she picks herself off the floor, smirking at her daughter as she wriggles her fingers menacingly. 

“You know what the best way to stop someone from tickling you is Stephie?” Paige says slowly, sending the little girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Don’t you dare-” 

“You tickle them back,” Paige yells and Stephie eyes widen with excitement, “did you know your Mama’s extremely ticklish?”

“Paige no,” Azzi starts moving back, hands held in surrender. 

“You started it.”

“Yeah Mama, you started it.”

“Paige. Stephie. Ple-” Azzi cuts herself off with squeal as two sets of hands start mercilessly prodding at her ribcage. She can’t get away, not when Paige has her securely wrapped from the back and Stephie’s pressed against her front, both of them laughing maniacally. They’re a mess of limbs that’s becoming harder and harder to tell apart as the three of them topple onto Paige’s bed. And Azzi thinks maybe she doesn’t want to escape it at all. She thinks she’d like to freeze them in this moment instead. Forever. 

“Pizza’s here,” someone yells from the living room and it’s Stephie who stops first, immediately jumping off the bed at the mention of food, leaving Paige and Azzi alone. On Paige’s bed. Barely an inch of distance between them as they try to catch their breath. It’s Azzi who sits up first, smoothening the wrinkles on her shirt. And just as she’s about to stand up fully, she feels a hand circling around her wrist. 

“It’s gonna be weird being alone tonight,” Paige confesses softly and Azzi feels her breath hitch.

“Didn’t you live alone in Dallas? At least after the divorce?” she tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the last word, a bitterness she knows she has absolutely no right to feel. 

Paige shrugs, her shoulders brushing against Azzi’s, “I did but I knew Dallas. I don’t know this place.”

“What exactly are you asking me?” Azzi asks even though she knows. 

“I’m not asking you anything. I don’t know if I have that right anymore” Paige says softly, letting go of Azzi’s wrist as she starts to walk towards the living room, turning her head back slightly once she gets to the door, “I’m just telling you I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

***

Damn Paige Bueckers and her vulnerable eyes and her earnest tone because Azzi would, really, really like to be enjoying her slice of pizza right now. Instead everything tastes like ashes as Paige’s unsaid plea rings in her head. There are so many reasons why Azzi absolutely shouldn’t give in, why she should grab Stephie, get into her car, drive home and never look back. This involuntary dance the two of them are starting is far too familiar to what they’d done when they were teenagers and the vivid memories of the day the music stopped and they’re feet stopped moving still haunt Azzi every time she lets herself think of it for a little too long. And she shouldn’t push herself into this fire again, not when there’s Stephie to think about, but there’s a tiny little problem. She thinks she might be addicted to burning in Paige’s flames. 

So when the pizza’s done and the house is more or less in order, and her teammates are ready to leave, looking expectantly at Azzi, she finds herself leaping into lava, “um- I think Stephie and I are gonna stay for a little bit longer.”

“We are?” Stephie asks, a huge smile stretching the length of her face as she looks up at her mother. 

“Yeah. Um- Paige’s bedroom still um- still needs some work,” Azzi tries to justify her decision, ignoring the heat of the blond’s eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck staring at her. 

Joyce raises a perplexed eyebrow, “it looked done to me.”

Paige clears her throat, “there’s definitely uh- a couple more things that need to be handled.”

“It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime. I could stay and help-” Jana begins, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“No,” Paige says, a little louder than necessary, “I mean you’ve already done so much for me today Jana,” she manages a smirk, “let Azzi pull her weight a little bit too ya know.”

Janna narrows her eyes but doesn’t push it. It’s oddly domestic, standing side by side with Paige bidding goodbye to their teammates, Stephie in between them happily waving at the people that are leaving. The warning bells get louder and louder; Azzi continues to do nothing to stop them. 

“Mama, how long are we staying?” Stephie asks innocently. 

“We um-” Azzi chews at her lip, finally giving into the temptation to look at Paige, “we’re gonna stay with Miss Buecks tonight so she doesn’t feel alone.”

The shrill scream that escapes Stephie’s mouth could probably break glass as she turns herself around to grab at Paige’s waist, “Miss Buecks I’m gonna stay with you! We’re gonna have a sleep-over.”

Paige laughs, kneeling down so she’s face to face with the little girl, “yeah we are.”

“Are you scared to sleep alone too Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks cautiously, cupping Paige’s face with tiny hands. 

“Just a little bit,” Paige admits, leaning into Stephie’s touch. 

“Me too,” Stephie whispers shyly, “that’s why I sneak into Mama's bed and she gives me lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Mama’s cuddles are the best,” she turns to Azzi, “Mama will you give Miss Buecks cuddles tonight too?”

“I uh-” Azzi swallows, taken aback by the question, “I thought you didn’t like sharing Mama’s cuddles?”

“I don’t,” Stephie agrees, “but I’d be okay sharing them with Miss Buecks.”

***

Azzi had planned -a loose term because really she hadn’t planned on any of this- for her and Stephie to take the guest room. Paige had been ready to give up her own room on the grounds of politeness. And Stephie was insistent that she needed to sleep in between both Mama and Miss Buecks tonight because it’s a sleepover we all have to stay together. Obviously out of the three of them, only one of them was going their way and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that would be.  That’s how they’d ended up here, dragging chairs and pillows and blankets into the middle of the living room to create a makeshift fort. 

Azzi’s putting on the finishing touches, stringing purple fairy lights Paige had produced out of nowhere, when Stephie emerges from Paige’s bedroom where she’d gone looking for something to wear in lieu of pajamas. 

“Mama look what I found,” Stephie beams, proudly pointing at the black t-shirt she’s found that covers her whole body, “it’s you and Miss Buecks when you were littler.”

It’s their SLAM cover t-shirt and Azzi feels tears prickling at her waterline as she’s met with the picture of a younger version of the two of them. Back when they’d been so hopeful and carefree, ready to take on the world as long as they could do it together. Back when they’d been 2 in a million.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Azzi whispers, unable to stop herself from running her fingers across the version of who they used to be. She wonders what those girls would think of them now; those girls who’d laid and bed and pinky promised forever. She thinks they’d probably be appalled at the fact that Paige and Azzi had spent eight years barely speaking. She thinks maybe they’d hate her for what she’d done. She thinks maybe she hates herself a little bit for what she’s done to them. 

Paige is leaning against the wall, her voice quiet when she speaks, “I couldn’t let it go.”

And they both know she’s not talking about the shirt. 

“Can we watch a movie?” Stephie asks, diving into the fort and peering up at the two adults. 

Paige recovers first, “yeah- yeah of course Steph,” she looks at Azzi, “do you- do you want something else to sleep in?”

“I’m good,” Azzi says, trying to inconspicuously brush away a rebellious tear. The shirt she’s wearing feels itchy against her skin but she doesn’t think she could handle wearing something of Paige’s. She scooches into the fort, leaning back against one of the pillows and Stephie’s quick to curl into her and Azzi absentmindedly rubs her hands down her daughter’s back. Paige switches on the TV, letting Stephie dictate a movie choice before letting herself into the fort, laying down on Stephie’s other side. 

“Miss Buecks come cuddle,” Stephie demands from where her head is laying on Azzi’s chest. When Paige hesitates, the younger girl takes it upon herself to pull Paige’s arms over her, making the older woman lie on her side so she can drape her hands over Stephie's stomach, accidentally brushing against Azzi’s ribcage. Stephie lets out a satisfied sigh, lying back down against Azzi, crossing her arms so she can hold Paige’s hand with one and latch onto her mother with the other. 

“Perfect.”

And it is. The sound of Stephie’s chatter slowly fading away mixed with Paige’s quiet breathing is the perfect lullaby and Azzi finds herself drifting off into the best sleep she’s had in years. 

***

Sunlight peeks in through the window and Azzi groans at the interruption. Her whole body feels a little stiff, not used to sleeping on the floor like this. A quick glance at her phone tells her it’s 7 a.m. and Azzi’s just about to let herself fall back asleep when her eyes land on the two sleeping figures next to her. Stephie’s face is buried in Paige’s neck, one arm slung over her waist. Paige, mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps, has both hands fastened on the younger, holding her tightly against her chest like she’d fight the world if someone tried to steal her from her grip. They look happy, content, at peace. And Azzi can’t breathe. 

The warning bells in her head create a cacophonous commotion that she can no longer escape. It hits her like whiplash that she can’t do this. She doesn’t know what had gotten into her last night, why she’d agreed to this, to any of this. But she can’t do this. 

“Stephie,” Azzi whispers urgently, trying to pull her daughter out of Paige’s grasp, “Stephie wake up.”

“Az?” Paige asks groggily, stirring in her sleep, “what’s going on?”

“We need to go home,” Azzi says and she can’t bear to look at Paige. 

“What?” Paige is far more awake now as she glances at her phone, “it’s 7 am Azzi. What’s the rush?"

Azzi ignores her, still trying to wake Stephie up who groans, “Mama too early.”

“Steph-”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is firm as she wraps her hand around Azzi’s wrist, slipping Stephie off of her, “what is going on.”

Azzi grits her teeth, “nothing’s going on. We just need to go home.”

“Azzi-”

“We shouldn’t have stayed last night Paige,” Azzi bursts out and Paige freezes. 

“Come out of the fort Azzi,” the blond says, her voice eerily calm as she stands up. Azzi follows after her, heart beating rapidly against her chest as she tries to keep the tears at bay. 

“We need to go home,” the brunette repeats, struggling to breathe, “this was a mistake,” Paige flinches and Azzi feels a knife turn in her own hurt, “we can’t do this.”

“Do what Azzi?” Paige asks exasperatedly, still trying to keep her voice low for Stephie’s sake. 

“This,” Azzi all but shrieks, throwing her hands up, “it’s too much, too quick and Stephie- Stephie’s getting attached and I can’t- I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“Because these last two weeks she couldn’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Because you’re all she talks about sometimes. Because she’s gonna want you forever,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “and she can’t have you forever.”

“Az-”

“And you’re getting attached too. I see the way you look at her and it’s amazing but it’s not- it’s not sustainable Paige. For either of you. Because you’re gonna find someone soon,” the words taste sour on Azzi’s tongue, “and you’re not gonna have time for her and missing you is going to kill her and the guilt of that is going to hurt you. I’m trying to pro-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige’s voice is hard now, eyes gleaming with fire, “you’re basing all of this on a hypothetical that might not even come true. You’re not protecting anybody. You’re projecting.”

Azzi reels back, “I am not projecting.”

“Yes you are,” Paige hisses, “you’re not scared of Stephie or me getting too attached. You’re scared of yourself getting too attached.”

“Mama? Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s tired eyes look warily between the two of them, “what’s going on?”

Azzi plasters a smile on her face as she picks up her little girl, trying to pretend that the truth in Paige’s words haven’t just made her feel hollow, “we’re going home Stephie.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Stephie fights against Azzi’s grip, looking helplessly at Paige, “Miss Buecks I wanna stay. Can I please stay?”

“You have to listen to your Mama sweetheart” Paige says softly, heartbreak written over her face as she moves to press a kiss against Stephie’s knuckles, “but I’ll see you soon okay. I promise.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers and Azzi has never hated herself more as she rushes out of Paige’s new house, willing herself to not look back. She buckles Stephie in the back, pretending she doesn’t see the way Paige is watching them leave from the porch, like she’d do anything to stop it. And then she drives away. 

It isn’t until she’s safely in the confines over her own room, that Azzi finally lets the tears fall. And she consoles herself with the fact that it’s okay to crack her daughter's heart, to crack Paige’s heart, to crack her own heart, if that’s the only way she can stop their hearts from breaking altogether.

[apollo-likes-writing]

LAPIS LAZULI - 2. Opulence

Character(s): Veritas Ratio/Lapis Lazuli, Jelena/Topaz

Tags: Long fic, mentions of sex (not explicit and not between Ratio and Topaz), arguments, Ratio's backstory.

Word count: 2,787 words

Summary: He missed an important meeting after a night out and Topaz is incredibly pissed at him for it. Lmao.

Author's Note: I know I said I'd post this at the weekend but executive dysfunction decided to beat my ass so y'all are getting it on Thursday instead lol.

Just want to note I am not writing explicit smut in any of this fanfiction. Read my boundaries if you'd like to know why. This was inspired by the incredible @havanillas with her roleswap!AU! Have a look!

This is off topic but, as someone who has family near Florida, I wish anyone affected by Hurricanes Helene and Milton and the Super Typhoon in Taiwan/China safety and peace.

Account Masterlist | Fic Masterlist | Prologue

10:39am - Wednesday

The sound of a phone ringing wakes him up, which is strange because he could have sworn he put it on Do Not Disturb the night previously. His arm reaches blindly for his phone on the bedside table. As he does so he smacks his knuckle against the corner of the wood and swears loudly as pain shoots up his arm. He continues his hunt regardless, the tinny jingle of his ringtone starting to bounce around his skull irritatingly. It takes him a while, but he finds his phone and grasps it tightly, bringing it in front of his face and promptly blinding himself as he turns it on. Topaz is calling. Of course she is. 

The man grumbles and sits up in his bed, squinting at his colleagues name for a few seconds before begrudgingly tapping the green button to answer it.

“Topaz! My friend! To what do I owe the pleasure?” The man begins with forced positivity, placing his forearm over his eyes and willing his phone to suddenly have a crappy connection.

“Lapis, where in Qlipoth's name are you?” Topaz’ exasperated voice rings out. “You were supposed to be at the meeting over an hour ago.”

“Oh shit, that was today?”

“Yes, Lapis. It was.” He can hear how clearly she wants to throttle him through the phone. The idea makes him suppress a laugh. “Where are you?”

Lapis eyes the other side of his bed. There, the tanned shirtless back of his chosen boy-toy of the night lays there peacefully, facing away from him in a blanket of black curls. “That doesn't matter. Fill me in on the important, definitely-not-going-to-bore-me-to-death stuff.”

Topaz sighs. “Diamond and Jade are throwing a business party on Friday and they want us to attend.”

“Sounds dull,” Lapis replies simply, grinning slightly at the snort his colleague lets escape in response. “Do I have to go?”

“Yes, Lapis Lazuli of Stratagems, you do,” she answers irritably.

“Ooh, my full title. Am I in trouble?” he teases.

“You will be if you don't show up. Meet me at HQ in thirty minutes.”

With that, Topaz hangs up and Lapis throws his phone back onto the bedside table frustratedly. He crosses his arms and rubs the bridge of his nose, feeling the makeup he forgot to take off last night on his fingertips. The sensation of a hand soothing against his thigh meets his senses and Lapis looks down at his current companion, who has now turned around to face him. He's cute, Lapis admits, which is the main reason why he decided to spend the night with him. His dark skin is littered with lovebites and his coily hair fans out below his head, now slightly messy. It was his eyes that struck Lapis when he first saw him though: a beautiful hazel with flecks of teal dotted about in them and large pupils. 

Those eyes are currently looking up at him from where he lays next to him, gently massaging his thigh in a surprising show of domesticity.

“Are you alright?” the man asks, slightly guarded.

The Stoneheart nods. “Yes, just work stuff. None of it concerns you.” He sneaks his hand onto his companion's head and plays with his hair absentmindedly.

“I don't think I'm smart enough to understand it anyway, Mr. Corporate,” he teases. “But a party? That sounds fun. Are you going?”

“I'm going to have to,” Lapis replies, sighing. “Don't get me wrong, I like parties as much as the next man, but this one is for work and I have to save face which is boring.” He tilts his head back and pushes his palms into his eyes, groaning loudly as he watches a kaleidoscope of colours burst behind his eyelids. The man beside him chuckles warmly.

“You're Lapis Lazuli. A party is no big deal to you, right? Just go there and rub shoulders with whoever you need to rub shoulders with then drink until you do it willingly.”

He has a point.

“Good idea,” he answers, taking his hands away from his face. He pulls the duvet off and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, shivering at the cold air of the surrounding room now hitting his bare skin. He sits there for a while, head lowered, as he musters the motivation to stand up. He does so after a few moments and then hunts around the room for his clothes so carelessly thrown about the night before. He's half-dressed when he turns to his company. “Unfortunately, I've got to go out and attempt to be a human being to prevent my colleague from murdering me,” he says, receiving a laugh from the other man. “You're welcome to anything in the kitchen. The door will automatically lock when you leave, so don't worry about that. Please don’t steal anything — it causes a great deal of hassle that I wish to not be caught up in.”

“Wow, it’s like I’m in a hotel,” he giggles.

“Yeah, well room service isn’t included. Sorry.”

He’s followed out of the room by a hearty laugh. He heads to his bathroom and goes about his morning routine, brushing his teeth and his hair before rooting through his makeup bag to wipe off the old and do his skin care before renewing it. He nearly pokes his eye out with his eyeliner in the process and groans as he smudges the red under his eyes. He finishes soon afterwards and pointedly ignores the hickeys on his own chest and neck (his colleagues have seen worse anyway). He leaves and nabs a banana from the fruit bowl on the counter on his way out of the building, shoving it in his pocket.

It’s raining when he gets outside, raindrops splashing on cement and dirtying the bottom of his trousers. He sighs irritably and rings up his chauffeur to collect him. He draws upon his Imaginary energy and creates a black umbrella for himself as he waits impatiently in the rain, eyeing the sky every now and again when thunder rumbles nearby. 

To his chauffeur’s credit, a slick limousine pulls up only two minutes later. He enters smoothly and wrings out his umbrella before he closes the door behind him. He takes a seat at the back of the car, not bothering to put his seatbelt on.

”Good morning, Sir. Where will you be headed?” his chauffeur asks on the other side of the window that separates driver from passenger.

”Morning, Connors,” Lapis replies, running a hand through damp hair to neaten it. He debates in his mind whether he should piss off Topaz even more or actually do as she asks. He decides on the former. “Take me to that coffee shop on 4th Avenue,” he asks. Connors nods his head and puts his foot on the accelerator, pushing the car forwards.

Lapis watches the buildings of Pier Point fly by as they drive past. Tall skyscrapers touch sturdy bubbles that float above them that act as buildings in their own right. Billboards and screens advertise various IPC products that Lapis knows definitely do more harm than good but are still being sold regardless. Neon signs point to bars and restaurants with the aim of drawing the eye but only succeed in forcing the viewer to look away to prevent themselves from losing their eyesight. It is meticulously blinding and doesn’t do any favours with the slight hangover the Stoneheart is nursing. 

Connors turns a corner and travels on a road away from the cacophony of light and sound, slowing to a stop outside an easy-on-the-eyes building. He states, “We’re here, Sir,” and Lapis gives a non-commital grunt of affirmation before reaching for his umbrella and leaving.

”Stay here, Connors. I’ll be five minutes,” he directs before shutting the door and heading inside.

The coffee shop is a homely one. Mismatched chairs are tucked under old wooden tables and there is, oddly, a wide variety of clocks dotted around the walls. Cool browns and soft whites meet Lapis’ eyes as he scans the cozy place. A kind-looking woman stands behind the counter, blending a coffee mixture and pouring it into a cup. Once done, she turns and hands it to the patron on the opposite side of the cash register.

“That will be £5.50. Scan or swipe when you’re ready,” she says, her smile evident in her tone of voice despite the obscene price of her drinks. The customer mutters their thanks and turns away, giving a wide berth to Lapis as if he was poisonous to the touch (with his reputation, he probably was). Lapis pays them no mind and strolls up to the counter with the manner of a man much more care-free than he actually is. Once the barista looks up, her wide smile turns into a grin. “Lapis Lazuli, my loyal friend! Nice to see you again.” The way the woman looks him up and down as if he were something tasty does not go unnoticed by the executive, but he ignores it.

“Morning, Oti,” he responds, matching the smile of the woman opposing him.

“The usual?” Oti asks, already reaching under the counter for a cup.

“The very same,” Lapis replies easily. While his order is being made (a large salted caramel frappé with coffee and cream. Fancy and expensive – just like him), the feeling of dozens of eyes digging into the back of his neck reach his senses. This is not an abnormal occurance. Lapis Lazuli is a top dog around these parts; there will be several people who work under his chain of command in this cafe alone. There's a kind of power trip that occurs whenever he thinks on it. Money talks, as the saying goes.

A plastic cup (not biodegradable? Naughty boy-) filled with a delicious-looking iced frappé, whipped cream placed perfectly on top in a swirl that pokes out the hole in the semi-circular lid, is placed on the counter. A paper straw is poked inside it and is then pushed towards him. Lapis looks at it for a moment and smiles.

“Looks as delicious as ever, Oti,” he comments, picking it up and taking a sip. “Mmm, and tastes it too.”

“I'm glad you like it,” Oti replies, smiling. “That'll be £6.60.” Lapis digs in his pocket and fishes out his phone, tapping the top of it against the pin machine without paying any mind to the price.

“Brilliant. Thankyou, Sir. Come back soon!” the barista calls as the bell to the door rings out when Lapis leaves.

11:25am - Wednesday

IPC headquarters is as busy as it always is. Busy-body staff briskly walk past him with respectful (and scared) nods of acknowledgement as Lapis strolls through the main entrance. Soldiers and guards stand to attention and salute him. which he ignores in favour of heading to the secretary’s desk. There is a line that stands between him and the workers, but they all shift out of the way with terrified looks on their faces at a simple clearing of his throat. Lapis shoots them all a superficial smile and steps forward, reaching the desk and leaning on it comfortably.

“Good morning,” he begins, winking at the woman behind the desk. She looks up and startles at the sight of him, her face turning an ugly shade of red.

“Ah! Lapis Lazuli, Sir! What can I do for you, Sir?”

“Nothing much,” he replies with vague condescension. He takes an obnoxious sip of his coffee before continuing. “A little birdy told me that P45- Topaz is looking for me. Where is she?”

With trembling fingers, the woman taps on the keyboard and looks something up on her computer. “Sh- She's on the 57th floor, Sir. Room Six.” Lapis gives a hum of affirmation and leaves, slinking back through the queue and heading for the elevator.

When he finds Topaz, she looks like she's ready to strangle him.

“Does your watch work?” she asks as soon as he opens the door.

“Mmm, yes. It works perfectly fine, thankyou for asking. Why do you ask?” Lapis answers after another long sip of his coffee, finding great joy in the anger of his colleague.

“Okay, next question.” She strides up to him and plants herself a few inches away from him. She's a foot shorter than Lapis and has to look up at him, the irate look on her face reminding him of an angry bird. He decides not to point that out. “Do you know how to tell the time? Because I could have sworn I told you to meet me fifteen minutes ago.” She has the audacity to take the coffee out of his hand and slam it on the table beside them. He shoots her a small glare before fishing into his pocket and pulling out the banana he retrieved earlier, peeling it with a controlled slowness that would annoy anyone (including him if he wasn't the one doing it) and taking a large bite.

“Topaz, I have a PhD in mathematics. I can assure you that I know how to tell the time,” he says, mouth full.

“Then why, in Qlipoth's name, are you only here now?”

“Because I find great enjoyment in pissing you off. Was that not obvious?” he replies, gesturing between the two of them with banana in hand. Topaz opens and closes her mouth several times, finding the choice words she needs to get this over with as quickly as possible.

“The party is at 8pm on Friday. Black tie, so wear something decent for once. Opal is breathing down my neck to get you, Sugilite, and Obsidian on board and, surprisingly, Obsidian has been the most agreeable. Unlike you and Sugilite, she was actually there at the meeting this morning. I now see why you weren't in attendance.” She gives him a once over, gesturing to the lovebites on his chest and neck. 

“Y’know, I do actually have a social life, Topaz,” Lapis states. “You should try it some time.”

“I'm not saying you shouldn't have, uh- hobbies, Lapis. What I'm saying is that your job should come before them, or did you forget that?”

Lapis shrugs. “I'm here now, right?”

“That's not the point. You have duty here as one of the Stonehearts. Not a duty to your favourite casinos and clubs.”

“Let a man live a little, alright? I spent half my life in academic squalor seeking the attention of an Aeon that clearly wanted nothing to do with me. My life's work was made entirely useless. I might as well have received the attention of the Nihility if the Preservation didn't snap me up first.”

“Oh boo hoo, cry me a river,” Topaz snaps. “At least you have people here who give half a rat's ass about you.”

“That's becoming ever more debatable by the day,” Lapis seethes, demeanour now serious.

“Well too bad. You're here now. The only way you're getting out of this place is in a wooden box.”

“I can say the same for you, Topaz. How deep has Jade's manipulation really gone? I can't tell what's you and what's her anymore.”

“You don't know anything about me. You've been a Stoneheart for - what - a year? 10 months?” Topaz jabs a finger into his collarbone. Lapis doesn't move an inch.

“I don't need to know you. Your denial of it is proof enough.” Lapis smiles again, this time less cheery and more angry. The movement of his lips more a grimace than anything else. Topaz steps away from him, glaring daggers into his very soul. If Lapis wasn't, you know, Lapis, he would have wilted on the spot at such a murderous stare. She turns and stalks to the tall window of the room; a dreary view that shows the cityscape of Pier Point through the gloomy rain. 

“At the party,” she begins, facing away from him. “At least try to present yourself as a decent human being, alright?”

Lapis gives her a long, hard look, watching her through the reflection of the window. “You and I both know that's not possible for either of us. We've got too much blood on our hands.” He snatches his coffee from the table and heads for the door. His hand rests on the handle before he turns back to face the woman, who is still facing away from him. “Oh, and Topaz?”

She twists around and looks at him this time, watching him with a weary look that makes her look decades older than what she is. 

“What?”

“This could've been an email.”

He ducks out of the door before a stapler is launched at him from across the room.

--

Reblogs appreciated! <3

[banj0possum]

I need more jock x reader with reader having a big attitude and shows big disinterest in Brandon🥰

Jock x Gn Reader pt. 3

there was also an anon who requested reader topping Brandon so ill add it in as well :3

🏈 You've been tutoring Brandon for a few weeks now. Even after he passed that english test, he insisted you'd tutor him even in other subjects.

🏈 Of course you didn't care because you never wanted to tutor him in the first place.

🏈 No matter how clear your explanations are, he never got it until an hour of guiding him step by step, it was terribly draining to you and the alone time you were supposed to spend instead of teaching a dumb jock like him what 2+2 was.

🏈 Despite you thinking he's all muscle and no brains, Brandon's pretty smart, he gotta keep his grades up for football somehow, but the more time he spent playing dumb, the more time he spent with you, zoning out of your cute face that gets upset when you notice him staring at you googly-eyed, snapping your fingers at him to wake him up.

🏈 He won't say it out loud, but he relished the thought of your annoyed face, it awoken a part of him that he didn't even know existed.

🏈 Brandon would spot you amongst the crowd during break periods and if he tried to tease you or mess with you, you'd give him a sharp glare, sometimes grabbing his wrist or arm to stop him from wrapping an arm around you or playing with your hair.

🏈 It aroused encouraged him honestly.

🏈 His friends would notice him talking and hanging out with you more often and would ask him about you, Brandon confessing his slight big crush on you.

🏈 They'd coach him, telling him sweet poems to write, pickup lines, gifts, gestures to make you notice him, even his friends' girlfriends would tell him things they felt would work with you.

🏈 He had a few tricks he used on girls to get with them, but they never worked with you, so he might as well try.

🏈 He'd try to impress you, lifting weights, working out, all to get your attention. A compliment, a glance, even a scoff over how much he's trying, please notice him!!!

🏈 You rarely did, but whenever you do, you'd go out of your way to push him off his high horse, lunches bought for you were repaid with you teasingly treating him to food, even feeding him which flustered him to no end.

🏈 Cheesy flirts were deflected towards him whenever you gave him little touches and the like. You made him feel so small, so inferior...he loved it.

🏈 You'd walk in the room, and he'd be in a strange pose looking at you come in, his head resting in his hand as he spread himself on your couch.

🏈 "Is it just me or did it just get hotter in here?"

🏈 But you paid no mind, in fact, you leaned over him, your hands supporting you on both sides of him evidently trapping him as his face goes red by you glaring at him. "Uh-uhm...wow, now it's actually getting hot in here..whew!"

🏈 You hated it, but his little moves started growing in you, eventually earning smiles and giggles from you as you hid your face from him, but you always scoffed and shoved him away afterwards.

🏈 But that changed when you heard from one of your friends that he turned down a girl who wanted to sleep with him. He'd never do that! Unless he already has someone in mind...oh no..

🏈 You tried your best to avoid him that day but of course he found you, he was about to spew out another pickup line when you grabbed him by his letterman jacket's collar and slammed him into the lockers, pinning him.

🏈 You asked if all along his flirting and gifts were all a ploy to get you to fuck him through seething teeth.

🏈 His sweat dropped as you pinned him, his face getting redder by the second.

🏈 He gets shy all of a sudden, looking down like a sad puppy, pulling at your heart. You sigh as you let go of him, walking away from him.

🏈 "One chance, my house." You say as you leave him there with his hand on the parts of his neck that got red from you grabbing his collar.

🏈 When he saw you leave, he pumped his fists in the air and ran to tell his friends you asked him out.

🏈 He drove to your house in the best clothes he had without making him seem desperate. He knocked on the door and you let him in. He's been to your house many times but never because of another reason than tutoring, this seemed more intimate to him somehow.

🏈 You sat him down and you two talked, if he really liked you, if he really wanted to be with you, if he really liked you not just for a one-night stand.

🏈 "Y-you really thought that?...Sorry it's just- I'm not good at this...actual relationships I mean..I know it sounds bad but-...yeah it is..but I really like you (Y/N)! You're smart and funny and awesome! and really cute..."

🏈 You never saw him so genuine, something in the way he sat so curtly, avoiding eye-contact with you, you knew he wasn't lying.

🏈 Your glare softened and a smile starts appearing on your face. You scoot nearer to him to ruffle his hair before pulling his head towards you for a kiss.

🏈 He melted into the kiss, putting a hand on your cheek, deepening the kiss.

🏈 You suddenly grab a chuck of his hair, pulling his head back. "If I find out this is all a joke, your ass is grass you hear me?"

🏈 b o n e r

[nerdallwritey]

˖⁺‧₊˚✦ 𝓛𝑒𝓉'𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒹𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒶𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 ✦˚₊‧⁺˖

Hi, I'm Emma! Welcome to my writing blog, where there's banter abound!

I'm currently writing Astarion x f!reader fics, but am open to requests! Be warned: My content is NSFW so if that's not your thing, feel free to skip it! MDNI

Where else can you find me?

AO3 // Main Blog (I reblog tons of bg3 stuff over there!)

𝔅𝔢𝔞𝔲𝔱𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔞𝔯𝔡 - (Posted in order chronologically)

An Evening to Ourselves (18+): When Astarion propositions you for the first time, you're anything but excited. // AO3

“I, uh-” It was too much. The look on his face was too intense. You felt too exposed despite the layers of armor currently clad to your body. “I’m scared,” you admitted quietly. “Don’t be,” he whispered, leaning in and kissing you on the cheek. “I’ll be gentle.”

Just to Ruin Me (18+): The morning after you spend the night with Astarion, you learn another thing or two. // AO3

“You don’t have to tell me any of this right now,” you said. “A lot has changed in the past few hours and there’s no rush in sharing these things with me. I know how hard it was to talk about your past the first time.” “It was necessary, though,” Astarion looked over at you, his expression determined. “You needed to know what we might be up against. And you might need to know this too.” “If you want to tell me, then I’m happy to listen, but please don’t force yourself for my sake.” Astarion released a puff of air from his nose. “You keep doing that.” “Doing what?” “Asking me what I want. Letting me choose.”

Cheeks All Flushed (18+): It's time for the Tielfing party! Antics ensue. // Part 1 // Part 2 // AO3

You looked at him thoughtfully. “Hang on, weren’t you and Karlach trying to get drunk?” Astarion giggled stupidly. “Yes.” You snorted. “How’d that go?” “Fine,” he sighed. “Takes me a lot longer to get drunk. What with the dead liver and all.” You furrowed your brow. “Wouldn’t lacking a working liver make you drunk immediately?” Astarion whined, “I don’t know, but Karlach is completely inebriated and I only have a buzz I can already feel fading.”

Perfect Every Time (18+): Before your party travels into the Underdark, you and Astarion catch one last sunrise together. // AO3

You got up and joined him in the ankle deep water. “Do you want to try right now?” Astarion thought for a moment and clicked his tongue. “I have a better idea, actually.” He gave you a sideways look, his lips quirking up slightly.  “What?” you matched his smile. Rather than answering, Astarion reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.  You furrowed your brow. “Looks an awful lot like you’re preparing to swim.” He started fiddling with the clasps on his pants and groaned in your direction. “Swimming is not the only thing one can do while submerged in water, dearest.” He gave you a sensual smile that sent heat to your cheeks. 

Worth the Peril (18+): Upon arriving in the Underdark, you go down in a battle, leaving Astarion to pick up the pieces. // AO3

In another life, Astarion would have made a decent barbarian.  Despite Karlach’s cheerful demeanor, for the most part, barbarians were known to be violent, brutal, and cruel. All things that Astarion could easily tap into if the situation called for it. And right now, he was entering a rage.

About to Strike (18+): The gang finally makes their way into the Shadow Cursed Lands. // Part 1 // Part 2 // AO3

Before Astarion could protest more, you took a sip of the drink. He gasped. “Darling, what do you think you’re doing?” “Building trust,” you said, smiling at Jaheira. Her features echoed your own and she took a sip as well. “Ah, what the hells,” Karlach said. “Bottoms up!” She downed her own goblet. “You’re all idiots and I hope you die,” Astarion crossed his arms.

More to come!

ℜ𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔰 - (Ask box is open!)

Awfully Fond of You 🪴 (18+): Instead of sleeping with Astarion on the night of the tiefling party, you ask to bathe him instead. // AO3

You gathered the bucket that was still floating nearby and submerged it until it was filled about halfway with water. “You can either dunk yourself, or I can pour this over your head,” you held the bucket out for Astarion to see. “I’m actually quite enjoying you taking care of me, darling. I trust you won’t drown me.” “A mistake,” you said, pretending to dump the bucket over his head all at once. “Can vampires even drown? It’s not like you need to breathe.” “I’d rather not find out, if it’s all the same to you,” he smirked. 

𝔄𝔯𝔱 - (Please feel free to draw scenes from the story! Just tag me!)

xxnashiraxx: - Birdie (my Tav!) sthormii: - Mine (from About to Strike)/Fangs (from Just to Ruin Me)

[a-soft-hornytiny]

Loved.

Summary: They don’t love me as much as I love them was what you thought while leaving for the better. And it was too late when they realized how important you are to them.

Word count: 1.5k+

Genre: Angst

Pairing: poly!ateez x neutral!reader

Warnings: neglect (be careful while reading) let me know if i missed something.

Notes: this is an anon request, thanks for requesting. It reminded me of the reaction i did to you distancing yourself hehe i rarely write angst and im not sure how happy i am with it but I hope it’s to your liking! 

Part 2 is up!

Taglist: after the cut (let me know if you wanna be added)

—————————————

Where did it go wrong? You thought while frantically packing your things. You had spent hours and hours to find what you did to deserve this but you couldn’t find anything. Nothing pointed towards you doing something wrong but nonetheless you were here, aggressively stuffing your things into a bag while tears were streaming down your face. 

It had started about a month ago. You should’ve been suspicious when they started coming home even later than usual, some of them not at all. Always telling you that there was a meeting at work and that they had already eaten, leaving you to sit at the dining table alone. In the beginning you had still waited for them, hoping every day that at least one of them would be there and have dinner with you but it was always the same.

“Sorry.” “The boss invited us for dinner.” “I’m so tired I need to go to sleep.” “We had take out at work.” 

It left you confused. There was a time where they fought about who can sit next to you during the meals but now it seemed like they didn’t care anymore. You had only realised what exactly was happening when you saw a picture on Wooyoung phone. A picture of them with one of their colleagues. A beautiful woman with a bright smile, surrounded by your boyfriends. 

Jealousy had immediately risen inside of you but you didn’t say anything. It was not like they weren’t allowed to spend time with other people. Instead, you let your doubts eat you from the inside. Did they eat with her every day? Was she the reason they stayed at work longer than they would normally? Was she better than you? 

The worst part was that they didn’t notice. They didn’t notice how you felt and that you were distancing yourself. You would’ve thought that at least one of them cares. But all they cared about was being with that woman. 

What hurt you the most was that they didn’t tell you about her. If they had been honest with you, you wouldn’t have created all these scenarios in your head. But they lied to you. 

“Yeosang?” You tried to get his attention by tapping his shoulder. It was rare that all eight of them were at home. You wanted to talk about it. Voice your anxious thoughts. Letting them go. “Who is that woman you all have been hanging around?” You asked him because you knew he would be honest with you. The room instantly became silent.

“Oh? Do you mean Haeun? She works with us.” Yeosang answered, not giving you a lot of information. “Why do you ask?” 

You didn’t know what to say. “I-.. I’m just curious.” You stuttered, looking down at your feet. 

“She is really fun to be around! Recently she even invited us for dinner and paid.” San said excitedly. His words stabbed right into your heart. This was worse than you expected.

They weren’t cheating on you. You somehow could feel that. It was worse. They hadn’t been doing anything with a bad intention. They simply enjoyed spending time with her. 

They took you for granted. 

From that conversation on you decided not to chase after them anymore. You didn’t wait until they came home to eat dinner. You didn’t ask them how their day was. The few messages that you got during the day, you ignored. If they wanted to tell you something they could tell you in person. 

Your boyfriends on the other side didn’t realize how much time they were spending with Haeun. And how less they were spending time with you. 

The first one to notice that something was weird about you was Mingi. He had always left you a message during the day. Sometimes about work, what they ate for lunch or when they would be coming home. And normally you would respond relatively quickly. But you didn’t answer at all.

He sat in his practice room, eyes glued on his phone. Read two hours ago. It said on his screen. Mingi had voiced his concerns to the others but they disagreed saying that you didn’t behave differently. But he missed you. He wanted to eat dinner with you. Yes, Haeun was fun and when she first got introduced to the team, it was exciting to meet someone new. But he missed the familiarity. It had always been important to Mingi that he was not taken for granted and now he was afraid that they had done exactly that to you. 

But he didn’t act on his feelings. He didn’t want to cause drama where there was none.

The second one to miss you was Jongho. “Y/n what do you…” He wanted to ask you for your opinion on his singing when he turned around and faced an empty room. Right, Y/n isn’t here. He reminded himself, immediately feeling a sting in his heart. Every Tuesday you would follow him to practice and listen to him sing. But as soon as he thought about it he realized that you hadn’t been there in multiple weeks. Jongho instantly remembered Mingi’s concerns and decided to go look for him.

When they finally opened up about their feelings and what they had been observing, Mingi and Jongho went to tell the others. 

Before they could even finish what they were trying to say, Seonghwa tried to call you. He was blaming himself for not giving you the attention you deserved. He wanted to beat himself up. It was so clear now that Mingi and Jongho had mentioned it.

How could they neglect you like this and not even notice? 

And that was the same question you asked yourself as you zipped up your bag. Just as you wanted to put your phone into your pocket, it started ringing. It was Seonghwa. You took a deep breath as you declined the call and left the apartment.

You didn’t know for how long or how far but you needed to get away. Right after getting into the taxi you had ordered, you turned off your phone indefinitely.

“Y/n isn’t answering.” Seonghwa announced, his voice shaking. 

“Get in the car. I’m driving us home.” Yunho said, leaving the room with big steps. The others following him. Yunho’s mind was racing. He wanted to stay calm. He needed to stay calm. He had to be strong. It didn’t matter how he felt, all he wanted was to see your face and make sure everything is fine. It was all just imagination. You will be waiting at home. He tried to tell himself while he was getting into the car. 

Hongjoong was trying to remember any signs of you changing while he was squeezing himself into the car. He had never been home as much as the others so it wasn’t strange for him to eat alone or to sneak into the bedroom without waking anyone up. But something had been strange. This morning, when he came out of the bathroom, he caught you staring at him. And he could swear you had tears in your eyes. But since you didn’t say anything he had assumed you were fine. This damn assumption.

When they finally arrived at their apartment, San immediately jumped out of the car and ran to the door.

“Y/n? Y/n!” He called you before he even entered the building. Wooyoung and Yeosang were right behind him. After finally opening the door they stormed in searching for you in their home. The rest followed them slowly, scared to not find you. 

It wasn’t until he heard a sob that Wooyoung slowed down. A sob? He made his way over to your room, gently pushing the door open. His eyes widened as he saw San kneeling in front of your bed, a note in his hands and his face buried in your sheets. 

“Sannie?” Wooyoung slowly walked closer to his loved one. “Y/n…” San sobbed, not able to form a sentence. “What is it Sannie?” Wooyoung kneeled down next to him, softly taking the note from his hands. As he started reading, tears formed in his eyes. 

And that was when the others finally found them. They looked at Wooyoung, hope and pain in their eyes at the same time as he slowly shook his head. Yeosang’s legs gave in as he saw the expression on Wooyoung’s face. You were gone. No no no that’s impossible he thought, staring to the ceiling with a blank face. You couldn’t leave them.

Still not wanting to believe what was happening, Yunho harshly snapped the note out of Wooyoung’s hand. 

I am going on a trip. Don’t text or call me, I need time to think. I hope you understand. I loved you so much.

His head went numb.

Loved. 

————

Tags: @jonghoisbabie @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers-writes @serialee @crimsonbubble @cometoceantrenches @em--ilysm @deja-vux @kawaiiloli00 @ddeonghwva @aaaaajonghooooo @sansbun @cookies-n-joong @plonys @hijirikaww @nari-nim @yunkiwii @mingi-ivity @racheloveyunho @seongsangsgf @jhmylove @lizsvcks @yunhobabygurl @leoninadecorazones @kerra-that-one-random-fangirl @star1117-archives

————

[masonmountt19]

I LOVE YOU

Summary: Mason has been going out almost every weekend instead of hanging out with you so you confront him

Warnings: little angst, no happy ending

It was 4pm on a Friday afternoon when you arrived home from a long day of hard work. Mason had training that day but texted you saying he was going to visit his parents and will be home around 6pm. You decided to clean the house before making the dinner, you thought you could make Masons favourite dinner and watch a movie when he comes back as the both of yous haven't done that in a while.

Just a bit after 6pm Mason arrived home, you heard him drop his bag down by the front door which you hate but didn't mind it as he was probably tired from training. 'hey babe' Mason said before heading straight up the stairs which didn't give you a chance to say anything back. Weird you thought but you follow him up the stairs. 'Mase,where are you' you said, 'in the bedroom' he replied. You open the door and see him changing into nice clothes. 'Where are you going Mase?' , 'Me and the lads are going out to the club tonight, you can come if you want but none of their gfs are going' .

'When are you going to spend at least one weekend with me and not going out with the boys all the time Mase, I've just made your favourite dinner and then was thinking about watching a movie or something but no you decide to go spend your night with the boys instead of me, do you know how that makes me feel?, I feel so insecure seeing all those girls your with when I'm not with you Mase, I love you and right now it doesn't feel like you love me'. ' Y/n I'm so sorry you feel like that love, I didn't know you would feel like that and I should've known and I'm sorry and I do love you, but this is the last time I will go out with the lads without you,ok ?'. 'No Mase it isn't ok , if you walk out that door I will not be here when come back, I'm not having this anymore'. ' I'm sorry y/n but me and the lads have already decided that we will go out tonight, I promise I will make it up to you tomorrow and everyday '. 'You know what, do what you want to do, I don't care anymore, have fun Mase' you said walking out of your shared bedroom slamming the door. 'You know what, maybe I will ' Mason said to himself.

As you were eating your dinner on your phone you then heard Mason coming downstairs, grabbing his keys and slamming the front door. 'Bye then I guess, dickhead' you whispered to yourself. An hour later turns into 2 hours and soon enough it is 12am. You've had enough of this bullshit so you called Mason 10 times which he didn't pick up at all, you called all his other friends he's with loads of times and they didn't answer at all. As you are scrolling on Instagram you seena picture you had hope to never see on Ben Chilwells close friends story.

Tears had start to form in your eyes. 'I can't do this anymore' you said before running upstairs and packing everything you owned while leaving the hoodies and football shirts Mason had let you wear in his wardrobe. Walking downstairs you looked for a piece of paper to write a note for Mason.

Dear Mason, I did warn you about walking out that door, and what do you do? you walk out the door. I honestly can't do this anymore Mase, you are always training on the weekdays and when you have free time you spend it with your friends instead of me and your family, you are allowed to spend time with your friends but you never spend time with me anymore, I love you so much but right now I don't know anymore as you aren't showing me love anymore Mase, you know my past and right now it feels like deja vu. I'm sorry Mase but we should break up, its for the best.We could of sorted this out if you had listened to me earlier. Dont bothered trying to text or call me or my friends and family as this is all your fault.

From y/n.

You grabbed all your stuff, took your key for Masons house and left it by the note and walked out of the house, heading to Kai and Sophias house.

Masons Pov

I didn't realise it was 3am until I got home. I knew something was up when I didn't y/n car in the driveway and no lights were on and no curtains/blinds were closed. I walked through the door and into the kitchen when I saw a note on the counter. My stomach dropped when I read it.

Dear Mason, I did warn you about walking out that door, and what do you do? you walk out the door. I honestly can't do this anymore Mase, you are always training on the weekdays and when you have free time you spend it with your friends instead of me and your family, you are allowed to spend time with your friends but you never spend time with me anymore, I love you so much but right now I don't know anymore as you aren't showing me love anymore Mase, you know my past and right now it feels like deja vu. I'm sorry Mase but we should break up, its for the best.We could of sorted this out if you had listened to me earlier. Dont bothered trying to text or call me or my friends and family as this is all your fault.

From y/n.

'No she can't be serious, I can't belive I've fucked up, I love her, I really do' I said begging to cry

[earlgreytea68]

I admire your writing SO MUCH. What is your writing routine? Or do you have any writing tips you might like to share?

Awwww, THANK YOU! That is really so lovely to hear!!

My writing routine changes from time to time, which I mention because sometimes it's worthwhile to switch up your routine if it stops working for you.

I always advice trying to write at least a little bit every day, even if it's just a sentence or a paragraph. And rather than framing it that way -- a sentence, a paragraph, a hundred words -- I set aside time to write. Even if I only sit down for five minutes and spend the whole five minutes re-reading what I wrote last time, keeping the story there in my mind is useful to me.

Because I think you should try to find time to write every day, I try to have a time set aside each day to write. When I was younger, I used to write at night. Then two things happened: (1) I got busier, which meant I was sitting down later and later at night for my writing time; (2) I began to be so tired at the end of the night when I finally got time to write. I didn't really notice that I was tired, what I noticed was I was having a hard time writing. The stories felt like slogs and I wasn't getting anywhere.

So! I read somewhere about someone who used to get up early in the morning to write. Look, I am not a person who's waking up at 5am to write. But some mornings I wake up fifteen to thirty minutes earlier than I need to, and I sit up in bed and I write, and this has worked really, really well for me. My brain is much more awake at the beginning of the day and the words have come more easily and it's been a nice way to ease into the day. The problem is it's not a very long period of time, but it's better than nothing. Again, when I was younger, I used to find the time to write for hours. Life happens. Rather than lamenting the loss of marathon writing sessions, instead I cherish the time that I get.

With that said, you might be like, "Hang on, sometimes you very quickly turn around a fic right after some event has happened, how are you doing that in 15 minutes at the beginning of the day?" Oh, don't worry, I'm definitely not. Because this is my other piece of advice: Sometimes you get an idea that just, like, goes, and when that happens, I write. Now obviously you can't do this if you have other commitments, but anything that I can procrastinate to the next day in favor of writing a fic that feels right there, I do, and I do it without guilt, because I can do it the next day, and who knows if the fic will be there the next day. I don't know if that's exactly advice, because I know I have a much more flexible schedule than many people do, but I did want to explain that I promise I'm not lying when I say usually I only write 15-30 minutes a day lol

So that is my "routine." As for "tips," my main writing tip is to write what you would like to read. If it interests you, then it's done its job. For this reason, I think writing is very personal and there are almost no universal "tips," because different things work for each person. I, for instance, cannot outline and hate to do it; it messes me totally up. I start with a vague idea and a first sentence and I go from there. This works for me. I'm unbothered by not having a plan. It wouldn't work for everyone, so if that idea freaks you out, make an outline! But if you feel like you get stuck at the outline stage, this is permission from me to ignore it entirely and just write.

Other things that personally work for me: I try to trust my characters. If I'm struggling with a story, it's probably because it's wrong, and I need to figure out what I did wrong. Like, the characters are in the wrong place and don't want to do what I'm trying to make them do, that's why they're fighting me.

I try not to write "boring" parts. Like, if I'm bored by what I'm writing, I assume everyone else is, too. Just skip to what you want to write and write that. The "boring" part can't be too important to the story if it was boring.

If you're writing a love story, give your characters time to fall in love. That is not the boring part, I promise. If they had a good date, tell us what they talked about on the date. Write the actual dialogue. Whenever I find myself writing, "They talked for hours," I stop and think if I can put some of that conversation in. That, to me, is the important stuff.

I happen to be an auditory thinker, not a visual one. I think in words, not images. For this reason, my first drafts tend to be a lot of dialogue. When I read them over, that's when I add in beats here and there to pause the flow. A dialogue tag can be a nice beat to make the reader pause and not be overwhelmed by the conversation. If you're struggling with dialogue, sometimes I try it out loud, playing both parts.

Identify what writers you admire do well. Not just "writing." Like, I think some writers write excellent descriptions of kissing, for instance, and I wish I wrote better descriptions of kissing. Once you identify the more specific thing they're doing that you admire, really study how they're accomplishing the effect that you like. What makes that description of kissing so good? Thinking about what makes something seem "good" to you can help you to think about using those same tricks in your own writing.

My only universal rule of writing: Resist epithets. You almost never need them. Just use their name or a pronoun. It will read better, trust me.

I hope some of this is helpful!! I will say that I got a comment recently (I read ALL of your comments and they are all wonderful and also so deeply helpful to me in your reactions to things, even if I'm often terrible about responding to them, they are lifelines for me, please know I read and appreciate so much EVERY SINGLE ONE) and the comment said something like, "I used to read your Sherlock stuff! I can't believe now you're in FOB fandom! Your Sherlock stuff was fantastic, but your writing has gotten EVEN BETTER!" I put this in not to brag about this comment lol, but to say that I agree with it, I think I am a better writer now than I was ten years ago and a better writer than ten years before that. You're always getting better, because you're always practicing and learning for the next story. You might not feel like it's happening -- it's not like I'm like, "Let me go PRACTICE writing now!" -- but it will!

[thecameronchronicles]

Celebrate

TW: smut. Fluff. Language. 

SUMMARY: Trevor makes your birthday one to remember. 

WORD COUNT: 1700

REQUESTED:

@rafecameronzwhore asked

OK IK U JUST GOT BACK AND I FEEL REALLY GUILTY ASKING THIS BUT… 

Rafe and Trevor birthday fanfic (2 separate fanfics) bc my b day is in April (17th) and idk how long it takes you to make a fanfic so I'm requesting it early.

Request: can you make it fluff and smut so like in the morning there all sweet with gifts and lots of kisses and extra love but at night they show you how much the love you iykyk (😉 😉 😉). 

Celebrate

You weren't much of a fan of your birthday as if the last few weeks were any indication, you would be spending it alone. Your boyfriend seemed to make every excuse to not be at your side, taking any and every shift to keep busy. A handful of arguments and you appeared to pass more like ships in the night than the loving duo you'd become since the conception of your relationship. And to make matters worse, you woke up to find the bed empty yet again. Not even able to find his warmth before he had decidedly forgotten about your birthday as he took another early shift. 

Coffee. At least you had coffee. You had every intention of downing the bitter condition in swift gulps to prepare for the lackluster day ahead. But as you came out of the bedroom of the apartment, you stilled in disbelief. 

"Shit!" Trevor exclaimed as a balloon popped once he gave it too much air. But it was one loss in contrast to the countless ones that filled the space. Something that must have taken hours. Something that would have been the excuse as to why you came home to find him making an excuse of another late shift he needed to sneak out for. 

"Trev…" You couldn't even bring yourself to do anything but bury your face in your hands as he was quick to pull you against him. 

"Hey hey hey…what is it?"

"I thought you…forgot or didn't…didn't care…"

"Are you kidding?!" He scoffed. "It's the one day of the year I get to make it about you and you can't protest…come on…" He led you to the table, where a handful of gifts were left. Despite the quick wrapping job done with newspapers and thin strips of tape used to make it stretch, he found a way to adorn everything with his care. 

"Open the small one first, I'll make your coffee." He kissed your head as you pulled it to view. The first gift was a small necklace, perfectly dainty, hanging from a silver chain. The smile on your face was well worth the shifts he'd taken to pay for it instead of having stolen it, which was more tempting as he could spend more time in bed with you. 

"Now that one…" He pointed to the gift on the far left, setting the coffee beside you and pulling up a chair at your side. You opened up the wrapping to find a stack of vinyls you'd been in search of since you started dating. 

"Where did you even…"

"I know a girl…" your brow raised. 

"Just a friend…" he nodded to the final gift. 

"Now don't give me shit about it, okay…I just-" Before he could fumble further, your eyes watered at the thought put into it. A small photo album. But the slots were filled with destinations. 

The Eiffel tower. The Colosseum. The statue of Jesus in Rio. Pictures and notes made by each one. "Ravaging each other in Rio.", "Getting cuddly at the Colosseum," You chuckled at his choice of words, finding it hard to imagine him actually saying them out loud. But now, you had them in writing. 

"I might not be able to take you there this year…but I promise, you'll get to see those places one day." He took both of your hands and carried them to his lips, almost as if he was trying to warm them. 

"I promise, baby." Your eyes met for only a second before you climbed over his lap in a straddle. 

"Whoa, I was gonna make you pancakes with that little face with whipped cream…even got the flavored kind you like-" Your lips fell to his jaw and into his ear, where he dug his nails into your hips as you continued your endeavors. 

"I love you, Trevor…" You whispered into his ear, feeling him smirk as he led you closer against him. 

"I love you, baby…"

"I want you to show me…" 

"Yeah?" You nodded. 

"Consider it my birthday wish…" You bit your bottom lip as he lifted you onto the table, standing between your legs. His hands were soft to divide your thighs wider as he grinned to the brush his thumbs made at your core. 

"Tell me what you want…I want to give you exactly what you want, birthday girl." He kissed you sweetly as you could only nod. 

"My fingers?" 

"Please-" You gasped as he was quick to accommodate. Your panties ruined by the second lap made by his touch around your clit. 

"So wet…" He spoke to himself with pride. 

"Should have gotten you panties instead…" He smirked as your eyes rolled. His humor was replaced with focus as he parted your panties to the side and pressed one finger inside. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yes!" A second made you shudder. 

"That okay, baby?" 

"More than!" You groaned, the heel of his palm at your clit as he made slow work of your inner walls, bending to the perfect degree to tease you. 

"Fuck!" You rode into his hand. "I love your fingers!" You winced as he nodded. 

"I can feel just how much with how hard you're clenching around me…shit…" He moaned to the way you clawed into his wrist. 

"Ride it baby…until you're dripping for me…" 

"I am! Please Trevor!"

"Just ask. Whatever you want, it's yours…" 

"Your mouth." He smirked but didn't take you here. Instead, he pulled you to the ledge of the table, flipping you onto your stomach, and spreading your cheeks. 

"Sorry baby, I'm greedy." He slapped your ass and began lapping at you from behind. The sounds that should have made you blush only motivated the motion of your hips against him. A selection of slaps to your ass were made in the precision of his tongue to your clit so you would be riding that talented muscle when your body leveled back in place. 

"Jesus!" You whimpered, legs trembling as Trevor kicked your legs wider apart. 

"Come for me. Come for me so I can fuck you how you deserve." He slapped your ass again, this time, teasing the separation of your cheeks just to hear that gasp. 

"Ah!! Ahhh! Right there!!!" You confessed as his mix of pistoning fingers, slaps, and tongue has you expelling in seconds. 

"Come here." He growled as he lifted one of your legs to the surface of the table to make his depth surreal as he dropped his own swears and aligned himself with you. 

"Should I give you your age in spankings or orgasms?"

"Oh fuck…" He pushed inside slowly. 

"Decide baby or I'll just do both."

"Both!" You moaned as he began to pump. 

"One down…" He teased, slapping your ass as you were splayed before him,

"Give me that clit, baby…I'm working on two…" You armed your hips just enough to let his hand rest between your legs, but it was a regrettable mistake. He was vicious, rubbing you as you rode against the ridges of his cock, your body already oversensitive. 

"Fuck! FUCK! TREVOR!"

"That's right baby…sing for me…just like that…shit!" He hissed as you rode back into him, the sight of you swallowing him between your thighs was enough to make him buck against you as if he was enraged. 

"Slowly…" he corrected,edging you as you gripped onto the edge of the table as it continued to shake beneath you. 

"Oh my God…."

"Right there, right baby? That spot right there?" He took hold of your hair until you were dependent on only his grip. 

"That's my favorite…because it makes you whimper for me…" You showed the truth behind his narration as his other hand came to your breast. 

"And I know you want this…" He twisted your nipples as your body nearly convulsed. 

"Give me your second…" He groaned. 

"Oh fuck-" You gasped, a silent orgasm reading through you before he pulled you to the kitchen. 

"Three…whipped cream…" He added, pulling the container from the fridge as his fingers replaced his cock. 

"Might be four if you don't slow down!" You wanted as he bent you towards the sink, watching the marvel of your pleasure across your face. 

"I love when you come for me…so fucking beautiful…" 

"Give me…" you tore the whipped cream from his hand and dropped to your knees. 

"Shouldn't I get a candle?"

"Would you settle to blow me out instead?" He winked, you ignored the pun as he winced to the chill of the whipped cream made on his shaft. 

"Slow baby…" but you ravaged him. Cleaning every drop from his thick cock before replacing it and repeating the process until you were nothing but teary eyes and a smirk. 

"You got your cream…give me mine." He lifted you around him and took you again. Hard and fast, a third orgasm rivaling the two before. 

"Couch-" You managed, half blissed and half brainless. 

"The shower. The wall. The bed. We're doing it fucking all…but I gotta come…make me come baby-" You were set over him on the couch. 

"Nuh uh…your pussy…" He slapped your ass as you tried for a continued blowjob. 

"This is for me…" He led you into a vicious bob over his cock, your thighs already clenching to the way his thumb brushed over your clit. 

"Four?"

"Five! Give me two!" Your body screamed against you but you were addicted. 

"Fuck…" he grosned, holding your hips locked as he fucked up into you. His mouth was latched to your breast as you came once more, gearing up for an unbelievable fifth before feeling him come undone with your name a growl from his lips. 

"You get ten minutes and I'm trying you to the fucking headboard until we get to ten…" 

"Then what?" 

"Then spending the rest of it in the shower…dirty girl…" he slapped your ass as you teased his cock still wet within you by a rolling of your hips. 

"My dirty fucking birthday girl…"

TAGLIST: @rafesmoon @maybankslover @puzziepoppin @gillybear17 @onclouds999 @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4tangerine @slvtherinseeker @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @jjmaybanksangel @phildunphyisadilf

TREVOR MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

[awritersstuff]

" I promise"

Guess who is back ! 🤪

A smoky fic that took me 2 hours to write .

Warning - a random oc ,a lot of pet names and a little change in og plot ( not little)

If someone would have told you 1 year before that you will a happy life with smoky, you would have kicked there asses . You knew smoky as the leader of rude boys one of the 5 groups of SWORD but You didn't really cared about SWORD and kurya being the youngest amamiya and a very good doctor your only goal was to find your oldest brother takeru with your other older brothers masaki and hiroto. So you traveled with your brothers to find the oldest amamiya. But you never thought your whole life would change when you found a injured little boy trying to hide in a corner of a dead end of a street . You didn't really care but being a doctor didn't really helped the situation. So you did what a doctor should do you gently picked up the child and gave him a  rescuing smile ,the little boy was too injured to protest . You toke him to a convince strore and started treating all his injuries when his stomach loudly growled.  he shyly held onto his stomach and looked at you . You gave him a sweet smile "it's not a shame to be hungry, that's a basic human need , you know what I am also hungry let's go eat something " . You toke the boy to a small dinner and as soon as the food arrived the boy looked mesmerized "can I really have it ?"  he asked as he was not confirm if he was allowed to eat that food " yes its all yours " you said giving the boy a small smile . The little child became very exited he was about to take a bite of the food as he suddenly stoped like he rememberd something " why are you helping me I don't know you , you don't me , then why " you looked at him in pure shock how can a small child be soo hostile,  but you smiled a little before speaking again " Okey then let's become friends I am yn amamiya and I am new here , it's  nice to meet you " the boy a bit taken aback at first but then he gave you nice smile and introduced himself "I am haru and it's nice to meet you too , yn "  as haru started eating his you asked him " so , where are you from haru , you know I can drop you there " haru looked at you "nameless town" he said his mouth still filled with food . ' No wonder you look so thin' you think to yourself. After finishing your food yn took her bike and went to nameless town.  As they entered the roads she could already feel some eyes on her , as she dropped haru off the bike she looked up in the sky . She could see a back of a man leaning on the railing of a very high building,  yn had a fear of heights so she herself couldn't even imagine standing there . As you turned to take your leave from the town , only to be blocked by a group which you assumed to be the rude boys." What is the amamiya sister doing here ?" Yn turned as she heard a cold voice. A boy with unruly hai stepping down from the metal steps "so, you are smoky "

If someone would have told you will live a happy life with smoky 9 months ago you would have given them a weird look, because how do they know about you and smoky. Even your brothers didn't know that just often you visited nameless town and spended your time with rude boys and the children there . Masaki will be more then pissed when he will find out that instead of hanging out with him when he asked.  You were with your "really good friend" smoky (as smoky told lala) on top of the highest building of nameless town looking at  the city lights as he made you realize how beautiful  his home is "there is nothing more beautiful than home and family"  in smoky's words . But that was a event of 2 months ago right now was a total different story . Smoky was on the bed, shivering from all the pain as you were treating his injuries. 

If someone would have told you that you will live a happy life with smoky 6 months ago you would have busted into tears.  Smoky's condition was getting worse day . Nothing was helping and the wound on his back was also getting worse . After returning from little Asia and losing takeru,  your two brothers got into trying to expose kurya with there previously enemies kohaku and tsukumo  . You still don't understand why masaki decided to trust them but you believed your older brothers.  As for you , you never really thought that you will lose takeru but here we are but now your only goal was to save smoky and the other victims of the disease.  You already lost a brother and losing Smoky,  you swore to yourself that you will , no must save smoky.

"You will live a happy life with smoky" hiroto said to you 3 months ago while you were sitting beside smoky, who was on the hospital bed still not awake. But all you do was give your brother a weak smile. It has been 2 months since the downfall of kurya.  The war was over but still it felt like you are not free.  You still rememberd the day when you reach just on time to help smoky, you don't even wanna imagine what would have happened If you were late , even by a second.

" are you going to stare at me whole night, anjel?" a very familiar voice broke your thoughts as you realized that you were staring at a sleeping smoky  for what it felt like hours . Smoky  lightly turned  his head to the clock on the bed stand and again at you " go back to sleep anjel you have to go to the hospital tomorrow " saying that he hugged you close to his chest " I love you" you said softly,  smoky only replied " go to sleep,  anjel" and a little smile tugged on his face . It still felt like  a dream finally being able to see him smile calmly after being through soo much , everything was finally okey . " your stareing again anj-wait why are crying,  baby " smoky was concerned seeing tears in your eyes "do you need something, honey" smoky asked as he tried to get up from the bed but hugged him even tighter " just don't go , stay with me " you said still crying " I am here and always will  be , my love " " lier , you were about sacrifice your skinny ass just some months ago " you fought back through tears hearing your words smoky let out a heartily laugh as he added " I will my love  , I promise "

Thanks for reading 😊

Love you, byeee 💜💜

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello dear! It's been a long time :)

I've read some of your Mandela Catalog fanfics and they are amazing!

I would like to make a request, how about the Reader (who was a friend of the Murray's and took care of Adam after the divorce as Lynn didn't have much time to spend with him) take custody of him after his parents died?

Adam at least grew up with someone :) and the Reader always sang songs when he got sad about his parents...

But the events are the same as the Mandela Catalog (Volume 1 and 2 etc.)

In the meantime, the Reader ends up dying for an Alternative, after months of the Reader's death, the events of volume 2 happen and then the events of Mandela Catalyst happen.

Basically, Thatcher finds Adam singing one of the songs that the Reader sang to him to calm him down, but since it's not the Reader singing...he can't calm down at all .

Just Angst in general...sorry :)

Oh boy this one hurt a LOT to write. Strap in and be ready for (several) different timeskips (and a whole lot of angst)

.........

--September 1992--

"Hey, [y/n]. I'm so sorry to bother you, but-"

"It's okay. What's up? Do you need me to watch him for a bit?"

"...I actually needed to talk to you about something important, but he hasn't stopped crying, and...shit...I-I just need a little bit of help if that's alright. I can't calm him down."

Hearing Lynn's exhausted sigh over the phone, you frowned slightly. It especially pained your heart to hear her son's wailing in the background, yet you realized she called you around this specific hour last time..with the exact same problem.

It was strange, honestly.

You would've thought she'd figured out what was going on with Adam by now.

"Wasn't Jude there earlier? Don't tell me he bailed and that's why he's-"

"No. He actually showed up this time and watched him while I was in a meeting. Everything was fine..a-and Adam didn't make any fuss when he left. But now he just started up the waterworks again and...god, I don't know what to do anymore.."

"Well you tell the little guy to hang tight, okay?" You reassured her as you grabbed your keys, jacket, and shoes. "I'm on my way over."

"Thank you so much, [y/n]..I'm sorry about this-"

"Don't be. It's not your fault. I'll see you in a few."

"Alright, see you soon."

After hanging up the phone, you headed out the door and got into your vehicle, driving to the Murray's residence.

You've been close friends with Jude and Lynn, having supported them through nearly every milestone of their relationship: when they had their son, when they got married, and....when they unfortunately went through a divorce two years later.

To this day, you still weren't sure what caused their relationship to crash and burn. They were highschool sweethearts who hoped to move into the big city and have kids--the kind of dream any couple would wanna live out.

But then they became incredibly stressed over raising just one child alone, and thought rushing into marriage would resolve things quickly.

Instead, it only caused more friction between them.

Regardless, you still wanted to help them out. So you've offered to watch Adam for a few hours while Lynn went to work, or if she just needed to get out of the house and take a breather.

He's a good kid...aside from being either quiet or having huge crying fits with consistent patterns to them. You suspected he saw something scary and violent on television once and hasn't recovered since.

Lynn mentioned a toddler stress assessment he took, showing his scores ranging from low to zero, indicating he didn't respond to the stimuli properly. She would have been more concerned if other children his age didn't share similar results, all apparently due to them being witnesses to a "phenomena".

Whatever it was, it must've been traumatic enough for him to have these meltdowns seemingly out of the blue.

But you always succeeded at calming him down. Lynn mom had yet to see your methods, though she's convinced you're some kind of "miracle worker", doing a better job at parenting than she or Jude could.

Fortunately, she was going to find out today.

You arrived at the house, exchanging sympathetic smiles with the exhausted mother before she led you to Adam's room. There, he was in the corner bawling his eyes out.

"Adam, sweetie? Someone's here to see you." She cooed, but to no avail as he didn't even look up at her. Sighing in defeat, she stepped aside when you reassured her you'll handle it.

"Hey, buddy. It's me again." You spoke softly, kneeling down on the floor in front of Adam. For a moment, he fell silent and glanced up at you, hiccupping on occasion.

But when you opened your arms up to him, he started crying even louder and clung to you tightly. "Oh it's okay, kiddo. Shhh, I'm here." You hushed, holding him as you stood back up. "[Y/n]'s here now."

He could only blubber your name in response, snot and tears dribbling down his face as he nuzzled into your shoulder. You rubbed his back, wishing you could take away whatever made him this upset.

Since that wasn't possible, you did the only thing you could do in that moment.

And that was sing.

More specifically, sing a song you heard on the radio earlier today. It's one of your favorites, which always helps you calm down after a stressful day; surely it'll help Adam in his case, too.

Although your voice was soft and quiet, it managed to reach his ears as you sang to him, and eventually it worked its magic. His sobs died into sniffles, and then sniffles into silence.

You smiled. "Did you like that one? That's one of my favorites."

He nodded, now resting his head on your shoulder and closing his puffy eyes as you kept rubbing his back, humming softly. Before you knew it, he was fast asleep.

"....are you serious? I've tried singing to him and it does nothing!" Lynn whispered, astonished you were able to resolve that in a minute, when usually it took her an hour.

"Sorry, I guess he likes my voice better." You chuckled lightly, before your eyes shifted around the room. "Where do you want him? The crib as usual?"

"...as usual. I know he's supposed to be grown out of it, but he refuses to sleep anywhere else."

"It'll happen eventually, I'm sure." You set Adam down, making sure the pillow was comfortably underneath his head. Then you turned back to Lynn. "So...you wanted to talk about something?"

"It's..on the kitchen table." She muttered, confusing you as she turned and walked out the room.

You followed her to the aforementioned section of the house, noticing documents on the table. One mentioned child custody, which was signed by her and Jude...but also had a third blank line on it as well.

"Jude and I had a long talk, and...we both decided that if, god forbid, anything should happen to us and we can't be here to take care of Adam...we'd make you his legal guardian." She explained. "I know it's a lot to ask of you right now and I doubt we'll even need this, but-"

"I'll sign it."

She blinked. "R-Really? I mean..there's no rush. If you need time to think about it-"

"My mind's been made up. With those broadcasts having everyone on edge, it's better to be safe than sorry. But I hope it won't come to that." You picked up the pen, clicking it as you sat down to read the document. "I just sign here? Do I have to go to the court?"

"No, you can just sign it and I'll bring it to them tomorrow." She swallowed the lump in her throat, choking back tears of relief. "I-I just want Adam to grow up in a better place and..we trust that you can do that should it be necessary."

Nodding in understanding, you signed the paper, slipping it back into the folder before you gave Lynn a hug. "If this helps you guys out, then it's fine with me. Does Adam know?"

"W-We're gonna tell him about it, soon. But..thank you so, so much, [y/n]. This means a lot to us."

"Of course, I'm here for you and him till the very end."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

--One Week Later--

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Lynn? Are you alright? I was driving by and noticed your door was wide open."

"......"

"Lynn? Jude? You guys here?"

"........"

"....Adam?"

"........"

"Anybody home at all? Hello?"

"........."

"C'mon, this isn't.....wha....o-oh my god. LYNN!! No, no, no, no, no!! What the fuck?!! Why would you...y-you....?! Oh Christ, I'm gonna be sick....I need to call 911-"

"[Y/n]? Where's momma...?"

"A-Adam! Don't go in there. Thank god you're okay, but wha...what are you doing out here by yourself??"

"...looking for my new friend."

"Huh? But..sweetheart, there's no one here but us."

"Not even momma?"

"N-No. She's..gone away for a while. And dad, too. But do you remember that talk we had about me looking after you?"

"Mhm."

"Well, that...starts now. I'll be taking care of you for a little while, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good, good..now let's go home."

--January 2002--

It's been 10 years since the worst night of your life, as well as Adam's.

You lost two of your best friends, and he lost his family.

The sight of Lynn's hanging corpse was forever burned into your mind, and you were still unsure of Jude's whereabouts to this very day. He was never found by the police..although you felt like they were too scared to investigate further and give victims like yourself the proper justice.

Nevertheless, you had a promise to keep. And so you've done your best to raise Adam as his legal guardian. Signing those documents all those years ago certainly streamlined the process of you gaining custody over him, and he didn't protest over it.

You never did tell him what actually happened that night. You don't think you'll ever be able to.

All you said was that you found him alone in that house and took him with you, clueless as to where his parents are. It was only partially a lie, yet you still felt guilty.

You tried giving him a normal life away from Mandela County, as it was simply too dangerous to live there. He grew out of the unusual behavioral patterns of his toddler years, thank goodness, and continued being a generally good kid.

In school, he took up a hobby in filmmaking, while also gaining interest in ghost-hunting shows and other subjects related to paranormal activity, including online forums discussing Alternates.

Although concerned about this interest he's been pursuing, you supported his passions.

After turning 14, he reached that "teen angst" state of his life where he was going through lots of changes and constantly flipping moods like a light switch.

And when you picked him up from school today, that bad attitude reared its ugly head for you to see.

He didn't greet you after getting in the car, keeping his headphones on as he stared outside the window, seething red. You did notice a small group of jocks, one of whom seemed to have a nosebleed while the rest scowled at your son, only to see you were staring at them too. They quickly scampered back onto the campus grounds.

But what you didn't notice was Adam rolling down his sleeves to hide his bruised knuckles.

As soon as you both got home, he threw his backpack onto the nearest table and stormed off to his room without speaking a single word to you.

Now any other parent wouldn't have tolerated his disrespect. But rather than chastise him when you knew he was already feeling shitty, you calmly walked towards his bedroom door.

It was partially open, though you gently knocked just to be polite. "Hey, kid..may I come in?"

"....sure. Whatever."

You pushed the door open more, entering to find Adam curled up on his bed, staring down at his music player as he shuffled through some songs. "Glad to see you're using the MP3 I got you for Christmas."

He didn't respond to that, instead burying his face into his knees and keeping his hood drawn over his head.

You sat beside him, knowing that you'd have to choose your next words very carefully from here on out. 'Wish there was some guidebook on caring for a grumpy teenage boy..but I'll have to figure this one out myself..'

"So..what're you listening to?" You asked, hoping to start up some kind of conversation.

"...if you care so much..it's Radiohead." His voice was slightly muffled, but you understood him as your eyes lit up.

"Oh! I love that band."

"You do?"

"Of course! You think I'm too old to enjoy it?" You feigned hurt, although when you heard him sniffle quietly, you sighed and rested a hand on his back. "Look, I noticed those kids staring when I picked you up. They look like the same jerks I used to meet in school. Did...they say anything to you?"

For a few long moments, he was silent, but eventually answered.

"They called me an orphan, so I punched one of them."

Your heart sunk. "Wha--Adam, you gotta be more careful. You could've gotten hurt or expelled-"

"So what? I'm supposed to just take it?" He glared up at you, his eyes red and watery. "I can't defend myself?"

"...that's not what I'm saying. What I'm saying is that there's other ways we can deal with them without violence. But I agree that what they said was wrong." Frowning, you gently brushed his curly bangs to the side. "They shouldn't be using orphan as an insult."

"Yeah. They think both my parents are dead, but they're liars. My mom's still out there, and if she comes back we can prove them wrong."

Ah.

You could feel this familiar conversation starting up again, but this time you weren't sure if Adam was going to be placated by your answer anymore. The more he pressed about it, the more he got suspicious and tired of the same excuses.

"....are we ever gonna go back to Mandela and try to find her, [y/n]?"

You shook your head. "I'm sorry, Adam. But you know we can't. I...have no clue where we'd even start."

"Then why doesn't she try to find us, instead? She must have escaped those things by now..unless she gave up on me."

"Wha--" You blinked, having no idea how he could've drawn that conclusion so quickly. "What made you think-?"

"I-I mean..it makes sense, right? It's been ten damn years and she hasn't tried looking for us once?" He started getting agitated, taking off his headphones as they no longer comforted him. "Maybe she wanted me out of her life for good. I mean...I'm the reason her and dad divorced."

"Adam, their divorce wasn't your fault at all. I knew your mom for a long time, and she loved you a lot-"

"Then why does it feel like she abandoned me?!!" He snapped, throwing his music devices onto the mattress before scowling at you. "Just tell me the truth, [y/n]!! I can take it. If she said I was a burden, then fucking TELL ME!!"

You took your hand off his back the moment he started shouting, feeling yourself tensing up.

The one thing you hoped not to do was make him angry, and yet here he was...lashing out. But you tried not to take it too personally and stayed quiet.

Not long after his explosion, Adam saw the look on your face and instantly felt remorseful for snapping like that. His face began burning with embarrassment as he looked away, fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

"..I'm sorry, I...I just-"

"I know you didn't mean it. It's alright." You carefully wrapped your arm around him, bringing him closer to you. "But you were never a burden to her. That's the truth. She loved you and wanted you to have a better life..one that she couldn't provide. I know you don't understand everything right now, but one day it's all gonna make sense. I can promise you that, son."

He sniffled and tucked his face between your neck and shoulder, trying to stifle his sobs as he mumbled about still missing her so badly. You held him even closer, feeling the poor kid shaking in your arms.

Luckily, you knew exactly how to remedy this situation.

"Adam?"

"Y..yeah?"

"...do you want me to sing to you like I did before? I know you got your music player, but..my voice might help you feel a little better."

For a moment he was quiet, but you felt him nod against your neck. You smiled and kissed the top of his hood, before quietly singing one of his favorite songs:

"Such a pretty house, and such a pretty garden. No alarms and no surprises. No alarms and no surprises...."

He closed his eyes as he listened to your soft voice, tears dampening the collar of your shirt. He felt like he did nothing to deserve you or all of this love after the way he acted earlier.

You could've left him alone, or got angry right back at him.

But you didn't.

You never stopped being there for him.

After Adam calmed down a few minutes later, you let him go and saw him wipe at his face with his sleeve. While still embarrassed to be seen like this, he did feel a lot better. "Y-You...still got it." He chuckled. "You ever think about becoming a singer? Like in a band or something?"

"In my dreams, yeah. But I told ya I'm a big Radiohead fan." You smirked.

"Alright, alright..I guess you're not too "old" to like it." He rolled his eyes, but eventually leaned back onto your shoulder, relaxing. "Thanks again, [y/n]. I-I..really needed that."

"Anytime." You gently hugged him to you. "I'm here whenever you need me, son. I promise we'll go back to Mandela when it's safer."

"Together?"

"Together."

--September 2008--

You couldn't believe it.

You couldn't.

Fucking.

Believe it.

Adam went behind your back and did exactly what you told him not to do.

He left for to Mandela County in the middle of the night, taking a stolen car. Although he did leave you a note saying he was going on a "BPS mission" with Jonah and promised to be back in several days, you were still quite infuriated.

Especially since you've been meaning to talk to him about this little "group" of his.

All this time, you thought it was just some afterschool club he attended that helped him make friends and even find a girlfriend. He told you all they did was chat about ghosts and research paranormal stuff and nothing more.

But he's been using it as a cover-up to hunt down the Alternates who ruined so many lives, breaking several laws while doing so.

You only learned about all this through Evelin, who called your cell phone just a few minutes ago. The poor girl was in tears, explaining that she and Adam had a huge fight, and apparently he told her some....very hurtful things.

Things you'd never believe would come out of your son's mouth.

You didn't raise him this way at all.

You raised him to be a better person, not a rebel who thinks he can talk to girls with such disrespect and run away from home.

Why would he do this all of the sudden?

Did he just get too impatient?

Did he not trust you anymore?

What ever happened to the promise that you'll go to Mandela together?

Regardless, you apologized to Evelin for Adam's behavior before hanging up. Then you called his number, and he surprisingly answered within the first ring.

Usually it took three.

"Hey, [y/n]. What's up?"

""What's up?"" You mimicked, already growing annoyed. ""What's up" is that your girlfriend called me and said you insulted her. All because she didn't like these little "ghost hunts" you've been doing??"

"Oh fuck, did she really tell you about all our problems?" He groaned. "Look, I'm not the bad guy here. I swear. We had a petty argument and she freaked out on ME, and then I got a little defensive. That's all."

"...a "little"? You made her cry, Adam. I had to help her calm down before she could even talk to me."

"....well it's not my fault if she's too damn sensitive."

You couldn't believe how heartless he sounded, but you didn't wanna stay on this topic forever.

So you sighed, sitting down on the sofa as you wondered how you can convince him to stop these ridiculous "hunts". "Listen, son. I just think this is consuming your life too much-"

"But this IS my life, [y/n]! Jonah and I have been making some serious bank from this! Believe it or not, paranormal investigating IS a real job-"

"But it's not a safe one." You interrupted. "I know how badly you want closure on your mother, but those things won't give you any answers. They're only going to kill you if-"

"I stared at one dead in the face and it didn't attack me."

You froze, feeling your heart drop into your stomach. "...what?"

"Yeah! I found out I'm sorta "immune" to M.A.D or whatever, and I have footage of it!" He bragged. "It didn't hurt me at all. We had a pretty funny staring contest. I can send you proof of it so you don't have to worry about me."

"....I don't want "proof", Adam. I want you to come home."

"....not until I find out the truth for myself." Suddenly his tone turned spiteful. "Unless you know something that I don't."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not a dumb kid anymore, [y/n]. If there's something YOU knew about that night that you didn't wanna tell me before...now's the time."

For a few long moments, you were silent as you thought over his words, although his snarky response made your blood boil even more.

At this point you were fed up you were with him sneaking behind your back like this and breaking his promise. You only sheltered the truth of that night from him for this long because you knew how deeply it would hurt him.

But now he was practically goading you into laying it all out.

Maybe that's what you should do. Just to finally put this to rest and make him give up on these stupid "investigations". He was searching for someone who wasn't even alive anymore.

He may hate you, but if this is what he wanted...it's what he'll get.

"I'm sorry, Adam. But-"

All of the sudden, a loud sound akin to static noise crackled right into your eardrum, causing you to flinch and hold the phone far away from you.

Only then did you notice an unknown caller ID had popped up, the ringtone playing normally. You declined it and tried calling Adam back, but the same mysterious number showed up again before you could even dial anything.

You had no choice but to answer the stranger.

"Hello? Yes?"

"This is no longer your place to spill secrets, I'm afraid." A male's voice, staticky and coarse, droned in your ear. "Only I will reveal everything to our prophet soon enough."

"....your prophet? Who the hell is this?" Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I think you got the wrong number. I don't know any "prophet". Goodbye."

Hanging up, you hoped to put an end to that discussion and reach out to Adam once more-

"Of course you do, [y/n]. He's the son you've taken under your wing."

Every muscle in your body tensed.

The same voice was now inside your own home.

Your eyes searched the living room until you noticed the TV flickering to life, the screen displaying a hooded man with a face that looked as if it were melting.

"How do you know about him?" You scowled. "Don't tell me...you're the creep who kidnapped all those kids back in-"

"You played right into our hands. You've passed our test. I must say you've raised him well..keeping him in the dark about his truth." The Intruder taunted. "But it's time you open your eyes and recognize the favor you've done for us."

"...what favor? What does any of this have to do with Adam?!"

"From the moment you saw that boy's poor mother...he ceased to exist, too. I had taken him only for a moment, and gave you back something you promised to protect. But you've been living a lie, [y/n]. Your "son" was never actually him."

"You mean to tell me he's......?" Your heart dropped into your stomach, realizing what he was implying. But you clenched your fists. "N-No. You're lying."

"You had already failed them before you even realized it." The TV glitched to show the shadow of a certain woman with her neck broken, before displaying an image of the Murray house, before it reverted back to the Intruder's face. "You could've joined them, but we wanted to see how he'd grow under your watchful eye. Now thanks to you, we know we can blend into mankind and watch it rot from the inside out. And soon we'll awaken him, too, and rejoice."

"I don't believe you." You tried keeping your voice steady and calm, knowing he was attempting to inflict M.A.D on you. "If you think he's going to be anything like you freaks...you're dead wrong."

"Oh, but he will. He must. It's his fate."

"If he's one of you, then why would he care for the real Adam's mother like she was his?! And on that note...was hanging her just your little "distraction" so you could-?!"

"You accuse me as if I pulled the rope." He scoffed. "But I didn't. She just lost all hope and faith in finding him. That poor mother, too distraught at the sight of her missing infant---distraught at the sight of her missing infant, missing infant, missing infantmissinginfantMISSINGMISSINGMISSINGMISSINGMISSING...."

His voice suddenly began repeating on a loop, corrupted messages and symbols covering the screen. Through it all, you were still able to make out his haunting gaze and widening grin.

The only way he disappeared was when you grabbed a nearby chair and smashed the glass with it, shattering the screen to pieces. Electric sparks and smoke sputtered out of the TV, but besides that...it was finally silent again.

You huffed and took several steps back.

Yet you had little time to fully process everything he told you as your phone rang again. You hesitantly checked it, only to become relieved at seeing's Adam's number and quickly answered it.

"A-Adam! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, um..are you? What happened? You just hung up on me.." He sounded rather concerned.

"I didn't mean to. S-Something must've disconnected our call.." You scrambled to grab your keys, convinced he was in danger.

'Damnit, I swore I was gonna stay away from Mandela, but if he's still there....and HE knows about him-.'

However before you could get your shoes, you stopped and felt a sudden chill run up your spine.

One that left you with the feeling that you weren't alone anymore.

Your gaze slowly went to the front door, where a tall humanoid figure lurked in the nearest corner. It was overtaken by a huge shadow, although the whites of its elongated eyes were still visible, staring back at you.

Adam's concerned "hellos" on the other end fell on deaf ears as you watched the creature limp out from the darkness, revealing itself to be the most horrifying attempt at human mimicry possible.

The worst part?

It looked just like you.

"I'm here whenever you need me, son." It echoed your voice, stalking towards you and forcing you away from the front door, back into the kitchen area. "Something must've disconnected our call-l-l!"

"Who the hell was that? What's going on?!"

Finally hearing your son again, you swallowed back tears as you shakily reached for a large knife, keeping the phone in a tight grip.

This was it for you.

You've just been a pawn in their plans all along.

The Intruder had intentions to kill you with M.A.D by revealing you've basically raised an Alternate for them, and if that despair alone didn't end your life.....then this beast that somehow got inside your home will surely finish the job.

But screw that. Screw all of them.

You'll fight till your last breath if you must.

Your only regret is leaving Adam all alone when he's already lost so much in his life...but you didn't want him to think you resented him.

"I-I have to go. I'm sorry if I sounded harsh back there. I just want you to make the right choices. But if this BPS stuff makes you happy, then..keep doing what you're doing. Just be careful, okay?"

"Uh, sure. But why are you talking like that, [y/n]??" His voice was growing more worrisome. "Look, I'm sorry. I-I swear I'll come back home soon-"

"Don't worry about me...I'll be okay." You smiled shakily, not taking your eyes off the creature closing in. "Just take care of yourself out there. This world's cruel, but I know you'll kick it in the ass."

"Just wait a damn second! Don't g-!"

"Goodbye, my son. I love you."

You ended the call, dropping the phone to the ground and holding the knife with both hands, finally ready to accept your fate.

The Alternate howled with laughter, before it lunged at you with its claws and jaws wide open.

"GOODBYE-E-E!!!!"

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!!!!"

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Uh-oh! Bad decision, [y/n]!"

.

.

.

--January 16th, 2009--

Adam staggered through the front door to his home, famished, dehydrated, exhausted....

And burdened with knowledge that made him want to die.

Only a few months ago, you disappeared after that concerning phone conversation you two exchanged. He hasn't heard your voice since, and when he returned to Werksha..you were nowhere to be found.

There was no sign of a break-in, or anything of that sort..but Adam was convinced you were taken just like his mom was--obviously by one of the Alternates.

So he went back to Mandela to continue his investigations alongside Jonah, growing desperate for answers. There had to be at least one who knew what happened to you and where you are.

His obsession with these hunts only worsened, turning him into a crueler person around those who questioned his reasons for "chasing" after Alternates. Evelin did break off the relationship for good, seeing as he was too far gone to even reason with.

He knows you would've been disappointed in him...but surely you'd understand why he'd do this. You understood him better than anyone.

You said it yourself. As long as he was careful, he can do whatever he wanted!

Yet nothing ever turned up.

Until the day he and Jonah agreed to help put a cat's spirit to rest, the "owner" offering them $500 a night if they stayed for three in total...

That investigation ended in a huge argument in which Jonah brought up your name and his mother, setting him off and indirectly causing his best friend's death.

And then he was all alone again, but acted like none of it bothered him and tried to quell BPS' online following with a memorial video.

Days later, the Intruder contacted him on his laptop and unveiled the truth about his existence--the same truth he told you before you died.

"Your skin is not your own."

"You're not the real you."

Those words were drilled into Adam's mind, and he could feel his own body going through an agonizing metamorphosis as he forced himself to drive back to Werksha one last time.

He barely was able to drag himself out of the van and through the front door.

But that's when he was greeted by a grisly sight:

Your rotting corpse slumped against the wall, a bloody knife in your palm and a deep slash wound across your throat, your clothes caked in dried blood.

You were never missing.

You died.

And whatever monster brought you back here decided to present you as some twisted "gift" for him.

Adam collapsed and screamed so loudly that it shattered the lights he turned on, deciding right there that he didn't wanna live this way anymore. He couldn't. He didn't wanna become one of them.

He wanted to join you while he still had his humanity left.

Yet despite all his attempts to end his misery, including using the same knife you used to stab himself and consuming enough bleach cleaner he found under the sink to make him vomit his guts out......nothing was working.

His body didn't fail him like he expected.

He still felt his bones breaking in all the wrong ways, and now his insides fucking burned like an inferno.

Eventually, Adam stopped and instead covered your body with his BPS hoodie, sobbing about how sorry he was for not being here for you, before he managed to crawl his way into his room--his one place of comfort.

Having no strength to climb onto the mattress, he just slumped next to his bed, leaning against the nightstand for support. He made the mistake of looking into the cracked mirror beside him...and wailed as he saw the same monster that robbed you of life staring straight back at him:

A gaunt, skinny husk of a boy with pupils of light and a horrifying facial expression that's impossible for humans to mimic.

God, he wishes he spent more time with you...had he known all of this was going to happen..

Did you know he was an Alternate? Is that why you were afraid of him coming back to Mandela?

What would you do if you found him like this?

Would you still hold him?

Would you still sing to him?

Or....

'That's it...I can sing...' He realized, slowly quieting down as he recalled all the times you sang to him whenever he was saddened in the past.

If you were able to calm him down easily, then surely he can calm himself down in a similar way in this situation. It's just his own voice this time around; it couldn't be that much different...right?

It was worth a try.

"...s-such...a...pretty house...and...and such a pretty gardennn...."

He ignored the creaking of the front door being opened, and the footsteps that echoed through the house, slowly approaching his room.

"No..alarms-s-s....and no....a-and no....!"

Suddenly Adam began hyperventilating, eyes filling with tears as he struggled to finish the line, despising the way it sounded.

It wasn't the same.

It wasn't your voice.

It was a voice that wasn't even his own. Just a broken and flawed attempt to mimic the real Adam's--the one who never even got a shot at life before it was stolen away from him.

If this didn't help him..then nothing could..

He wanted you back.

He needed your voice to sing and comfort him, just as you've done all those years ago.

He needed you.

But you're never coming back again.

Up to this point, a certain ex-lieutenant officer with a vendetta against the Alternates entered the bedroom, shining the light around until he found this kid sitting all alone and....

Singing a Radiohead song?

He realized his ears weren't deceiving him, but just as he attempted to confirm his identity-

Adam's jaw unhinged without warning, stretching to impossible proportions as he looked directly into his eyes, screaming and crying out with all the grief left in him:

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!"

[singstaircase]

Those that go knocking on forbidden doors often find the one who guards it – Dominik Szoboszlai

Summary: Dominik suffers the consequences for killing the one he should not have hurt. But maybe there's still hope left for him

Warning: Blood, violence, nightmare, death, disturbing imagery and description, implied mentions of religious elements and of course angst

Well this took a turn I did not expect. Now there's a cult, decades long conspiracy, a century old man and the devil possibly involved

Can be read said a part 2 of If there is something after hell.

Major spolier alert for the game "Faith: the unholy trinity"* If you haven't played the game, I highly recommend playing it.

(Name) smiles at him, so loving that for a moment the pain subsides. For a moment, Dominik forgets she is plunging the knife deeper into his heart. 

Dominik turns and is faced with a distorted version of (Name). It has a gaping bloody hole where the face should be. It can't be her. Suddenly, a hand reaches out from it and pulls him inside.

Dominik turns around and is met with his reflection in the mirror. He's holding onto a key that he can't remember. The reflection has an eerie smile as it brings the key closer to its face.

Without a thought, Dominik jams the key into his eye. Blood starts to pour out and turn the floor black. As he stumbles back, the room suddenly turns dark. 

“Priest…” someone whispers into his ears. The voice sounds familiar, the voice sounds like Ga–

Before Dominik can grasp the thought, the air around him thickens with an ominous presence. A figure materializes in the darkness, draped in crimson robe. Just as the figure is about to make contact with him,

Dominik returns to reality with a gasp. Beads of sweat cover his forehead as he frantically scans the familiar surroundings. The clock's hand is ticking away at 8 in the morning, meaning he'd have to spend another day with only four hours of sleep.

Another nightmare, he sighs to himself. Frustration hangs heavy in the air as Dominik buries his face in his hands. Why is this happening to him? This is the…he has honestly lost count on how many times she keeps haunting him. He's lost count of the sleepless nights at this point.

Nothing seems to work; instead, the nightmares persist and evolve. Everything feels like a nightmare now, sometimes he isn't even sure if what he sees is in reality.

He still sees her in the house, just standing in the corner and watching him. He can't tell anymore what's real or not. It's like someone is trying to show him something. Like she's still out there somewhere, trying to communicate with him.

With a sigh, Dominik reaches towards his bedside desk and pulls out a journal. He's been trying to write whatever he can recall from his nightmares. Seemingly trying to make sense of this nothingness. 

Day-???

I think I am going crazy. I still see her and it doesn't feel like a dream anymore. In my ‘dream’, she told me not to be afraid. In my ‘dream’, she hugged me. When I woke up, it felt real. Too real.

Day-???

I was in the bathroom when I looked up at the mirror. I didn't see my own reflection but (Name). She was looking at me with something I can't quite decipher. It wasn't sadness or anger. But it wasn't a look a human gives you either.I woke up after that.

Day-???

I think I shook hands with the devil. He looked like a long lost friend. 

Day-???

She smiled at me today and I smiled back.

I didn't wake up after that.

September 21

There were new kids at the training today– Conor Bradley and Bobby Clark. Boss seems to like them. Everyone says this is the first time they've been here but I swear. I swear I have seen them before.

In my house.

September 22

I didn't have any nightmares today.

Day-???

Bradley and Clark are weird. Whenever I look at them, I see (Name) nearby. Before I only used to see her in my home. But ever since these kids have come here, I keep seeing her here too.

I don't think these are my nightmares anymore.

Day-???

Isn't it weird now I am having nightmares about something that never happened?

I was in this old house in the middle of nowhere and so was (Name). Of course she was there. But she didn't look like her, it was almost like something was ___ her.

Right in front of my eyes, she ___ someone with their own ___. I have never felt more scared than that moment. I ran to the basement and she chased after me. I called God, anyone, anything to get me out of here.

Then out of nowhere, a figure in white appeared. I begged the figure to let me leave alive. It gave me a choice.

Stay here and try to save (Name) or leave but that would mean ___ (Name)’s soul forever. I was so scared, I just wanted to get out of that place. So, I __. I agreed to ___ (Name)’s soul.

I got out alive. I woke up in the hospital.

Two days later, the police said they found a body that matches (Name)’s description. 

Why did that feel so real?

Dominik's sigh lingers in the quiet aftermath of his journaling session. His eyes remain closed momentarily, when the familiar chime of the doorbell cuts through the silence. 

A brief pause envelopes the room as Dominik hesitates getting up. The doorbell echoes again, demanding a response. Another sigh escapes him as he rises from his place.

His house is quiet now and Dominik hates it. He hates the silence, it feels as if the silence itself is always mocking him. 

Upon opening the door, he finds no one. Just as Dominik's about to close the door,a subtle touch at his feet halts him. He glances downwards to discover a newspaper lying at his doorstep.

In any other circumstance, he would've ignored it but the headline captures his attention with a grip that refuses to release him. The words on the front page bring back a painful truth, a stark reminder of the past he desperately wants to bury.

He should go back but an unseen force seems to guide his movements. Something, inexplicable and compelling, makes Dominik pick up the newspaper. He feels compelled to read on, as if an unseen hand is guiding his eyes across the paper. 

Liverpool mourns the death of (Name) Alexander-Arnold Szoboszlai 

West Derby, Liverpool

S̵̨̗͇̰̭̻̟̣͖̣̟̻̱̻̬̟̘̦̹͇͛ͦͩͫ̿͑͑̇͛ͥ̀H̶̴̡̹͔̘̠̦̆̒̄̄͒͆́̄ͭ̚̕E̷̸͒̿̃̓ͣ̐͌̏̍̾̄̆҉̜̰͖͇̜̘ͅ ̨̬͔̺͍̹̤͉̰̫̝̺͇̭̙̩̻̆ͭ̑̽͒̽ͯ̏̌ͬͫ̀̀Ȉ̶̸̻̱̼̝͆͒̎ͯ͛͆̾̈́̔̓̽͆͜͞S̷̴̯͕̞͈̥̝̥̝̙̩̠̳̍̀͆͋̅ͨͦ͐ͨ͑͛̎̐̿͘͞ͅ ̖͖͈͔̳̬̭̰̰͓̘̤͕̘̽ͦ̆̃̂̃̑́̔̂͟H̸̛̏̓̂̋̓̉ͤ̃̑̍̓̿ͫ̋́ͮ̃͡҉̦̤̘͉̣̥̳̟̠̘̼͈͖̝̳̠E̛̝̱̞̝̻̻̓̒̍̏̒͊͑ͬͮ͗̃̌ͭ́̄̈́͒̇̀R̸̵̿ͭ̋̓̐͘͟҉̗͎̦E̵̲̥̩̭̜͚͇̱̻̙̱͈̟̫̳̬͗̐̂ͭͥͮ͜͞͝ ̰̰̝̟̲̤̲̗̬͙̼͙̤͓͌̈́ͨ̀ͪ̓̿̈́̀̈́ͩ͋̌͛͒̆̐̕͠ͅD̸̵̛̞̥̹̮̲͇̝͉͚̫̙̲̠͙͎̱̄̂ͫ͐̀͡O̢͍̠̖̣̖̗͕͓̳͓̜̱͙̹̽̍̋͂͆͂ͭ̈ͦ͘͢ͅM̧̙̬͚̱͓͑̇̈́̑ͪ̀ͬ̎͐͒ͬ̄͑̐̉̚͘͞I̢̢̮͕̘̱̹͇̔̒͐ͧ͑́͟͠Ń̐̅̿ͤͮ̚͏̷̦̩̼̺̥͈͞͡I̴̵̵̴̺̜̠̼̺̱͖̱͓̻͇͔͖͙̮͈͑̔͑̀̌ͤͪ̋͑̿̾ͨ͠Kͦ̇̿̈͌͑̐̂̔ͮͭ̊̉̚̚҉͍̤̞̖̜̟̟̤̦̰͕͚͇̖̥͚̀͘͝ͅͅ ͦ͗ͯ͆̒ͫ͑̑̂͊̑̚͏̨̝̱̮̩͇͓͙̭͕̭̖̝̼̩̤

West Derby observed their three day long community wide mourning for the slain ____.

The body of (Name) Alexander-Arnold Szoboszlai was discovered in the woods outside of West Derby last week, in what authorities are calling a ritualistic murder. 

Police report that she was apparently stabbed multiple times in the throat and beheaded before being killed in a paganistic ritual. Pandemonium regnat. Her body was partially burned as well. A body part is said to be missing, although authorities would not specify which one.

An investigation is ongoing into the mysterious disappearance and subsequent death of (Name) Alexander-Arnold Szoboszlai. A month into the probe, any official comments on the case have been declined. Trent Alexander-Arnold, the English and Liverpool right-back and brother of the deceased, has publicly pointed fingers at Dominik Szoboszlai, his clubmate and husband of (Name), accusing him of murder. 

Dominik Szoboszlai's team has swiftly rejected these serious allegations. Despite the team's unequivocal denial, the Hungarian footballer himself has yet to make any public comments on the accusations. 

Authorities are urging people of West Derby not to mourn the death of Alexander-Arnold Szoboszlai because, after all, she was a degenerated devil-worshiping thug who was hooked on crack cocaine and hated her parents.

Why even conduct an investigation at all? That's what you would like them to think, wouldn't you Dominik? You actually did the community a favour when you found her in that house. You stalked her through the forest and dragged her into the house. You ignored her cries for help, her pleas for mercy. You put holes in her ruined drug addict body and then you chopped off her heads because everybody knows that removing the head is the only way to kill a snake. Well guess what? YOU DIDN'T KILL THE SNAKE, DOMINIK. YOU CANNOT KILL WHAT CANNOT BE KILLED. THOU SHALT NOT RAISE UP WHAT THOU CANST NOT PUT DOWN AGAIN. THOU COULDST NOT KILL (NAME); THOU SHALT NOT DESTROY MY WORKS FOR THEY ARE THE WORKS OF THE ETERNAL DRAGON. EVEN NOW SHE IS AT THY DOOR. HER HAND IS AT THY THROAT, YET YOU SEE HER NOT. I WILL HAVE THY SOUL FOR I AM THE G O D O F T H I S W O R L D

I AM HERE,  DOMINIK. 

His hands, already shaky, grasp the newspaper with a desperate urgency. As Dominik reaches the final lines of the article, a cold shiver courses down his spine.

Suddenly, the newspaper dissolves into a pool of blood. As Dominik recoils with a scream, his frantic attempts to distance himself makes him stumble in every step.

A red creature starts to emerge from the bloodstained remnants of the article. Dominik's heart pounds in his chest as he retreats, his eyes locked in a terrified gaze on the creature before him.

As the creature lets out a scream, his terror reaches its peak. With a sense of impending doom, Dominik braces himself for the worst. But as soon as it appeared, the creature vanishes into nothingness.

Blinking in disbelief, he finds himself face to face with Conor and Bobby. The sight of the boys covered in blood and ethereal light sends a jolt of confusion through him.

“What a–”

The sentence dies on Dominik's lips as an unseen force starts to drag him backwards. Panic surges through him and his efforts to break free goes nowhere. The touch is surprisingly gentle yet he can't bring himself to remove it. It feels familiar.

Soon, he's thrust into a room and the door slams shut. As the figure turns, Dominik's breath catches in his throat. His eyes widen in disbelief as he stares into the face of (Name).

Nightmarish sounds begin to seep through the door as (Name) draws closer to him. As she sits before him, Dominik finds himself unable to look away. Her touch, light and gentle, sends a shiver down his spine. And he can't help leaning into her touch. 

“(Name),” he says tenderly, intertwining their hands. Her sad smile tugs at his heartstrings. With a gentle touch, Dominik tries to reassure (Name) but her gaze remains fixed on the door.

“There isn't much time,” (Name) murmurs. With a swift motion, she retrieves a necklace. She places it close to her heart, muttering some sort of silent prayer. 

As she places the necklace into Dominik's trembling hand, a wave of inexplicable calm washes over him. (Name) draws Dominik's face closer and her lips press gently against his forehead in a tender kiss.

“Do the right thing, Dominik,” she whispers like a last goodbye. But before he can ask what she means–

Dominik wakes up and he has never felt more exhausted. With a resigned sigh, he reaches for his phone. Alexis has been pestering him for months now to talk to Dr. Martin and today, he finally caves in and gives him a call.

Dominik's the last one to arrive at the training and he's just glad Jurgen isn't angry at him for that. He supposes the bags under his eyes are a dead giveaway of the nightmares. 

For some reason, Conor and Bobby look different to him. The usually hyper boys, are now looking at with a mixture of pity and concern. He can't shake the feeling that they know something he doesn't. 

The big red marks on both Conor and Bobby's arms, same as his, doesn't escape Dominik's eye.

As the training wraps up, the sun begins to descend. The sight that greets Dominik when enters the dining room is the last straw. The once familiar room is now a scene of chaos and destruction, with shattered glass littering the floor and torn curtains hanging in tatters.

Shock overwhelms Dominik as he staggers backwards. He's caught by Conor and Bobby's arms in time. The status of the wall is what terrifies him the most. It wasn't a dream, it was real. All of it.

In what seems like red paint, it says,

“THOU COULDST NOT SAVE (NAME), THOU CANST NOT DO THE RIGHT THING, DOMINIK”

“We had a deal, Mr. Szoboszlai.”

“I have no idea what you mean, Mr. Miller.”

“I promised you that I'll help you gain whatever achievement you desire and in turn, you will help me by providing ‘donations’ for my clinic and apartment complex.”

Dominik wants to laugh. “You think you were the reason I won everything?”

Gary's smirk flutters Dominik's amusement. “You think your broken leg was repaired overnight without the assistance of an unworldly being?”

“I suggest you leave now with dignity, Mr. Miller. Before I call the security.”

“You are going to regret this Dominik Szoboszlai.” 

[ronearoundblindly]

Hello darling! No pressure (I fukin tried to write this anon and YOU WOULD HAVE KNOWN), but I keep thinking about a workaholic reader who needs cared for! It’s the beginning of a new year but she’s already worn out from last year.

You write such a real Steve, can he be stern about it? Tough, rewarding love? And you can request (that I stfu) anything from me, I wish you the whole world 💚💚💚💚

Drag me kicking and screaming :P

Dear bestie,

You bish. Fine. I see what you did there. Be warned, I'mma tap you back for this. Oh, it'll happen...

Not Today

Warnings for...Steve is a bit of a hypocrite? and that might be it? Oh, and Steve uses completely canonical profanity. It's literally the exact same line. You're welcome. WC 3.1k

The tech support department is a team. There are about a dozen people who are tasked with directly answering any Avenger's call at any time, day or night or holiday. You know your own team but not socially since you all rotate and shift hours. It's a fairly lonely job, and that's fine.

The world's superheroes don't know your names, can't distinguish your voices, and don't really care which of you picks up as long as they get the information they need. Steve Rogers is guilty of this, too. It's not on purpose, but he still struggles to remember more than just a 2-D connection can come from technology. Old habits are hard to break.

Then came Thanksgiving, and Steve took several for the team by coordinating casual progress on a few upcoming missions while the rest of the Avengers scattered to celebrate with family. He still saw people; he still enjoyed the festivities. He just also worked.

That's when Steve noticed.

He called your department at 1900h after the big dinner because a document scan was cut off oddly and he needed to see the original. You answered. 

He called again after the house was quiet and everyone slept. At 2300h, you answered. 

With barely-bridled irritation, Steve called instead of a morning run because he needed clarification on a recon analysis. You answered at the ripe 0500h, but he was too distracted to notice it was the same voice until that afternoon.

When it occurred to him that the same person answered four calls in a row, Steve asks for your name, but you politely remind him you aren’t supposed to say it over the line.

“Plus, it’s not important, Captain Rogers. Answering your questions is.”

He doesn’t like that one bit.

After the holiday though, it’s you picking up less often. The others are back in rotation more, and perhaps it was just a fluke, he thinks. If you can’t say your name, you certainly can’t tell him that you filled in for coworkers hoping to spend just a few extra hours with their families.

Your team works out of one central computer lab which Steve knows, but since it’s all by phone and online, remote shifts are common. Steve wouldn’t have time to stalk around the facility anyway.

He lets it go.

On his way out to the landing pad one night, Sam Wilson joins him in the elevator, suited up, ready, and on the phone.

“Thanks, Genie, I’ll call if there’s anything else,” Sam says before hanging up and nodding at Steve. “Ready?”

“Always,” he grunts back. “Who’s Jeannie?”

“One of the techs.”

“She told you her name?” Steve looks stunned. One of your coworkers doesn’t seem to follow the rules.

“Didn’t. She’s just particularly magical…and effectively trapped in a bottle since she’s always on the phone, I guess.”

Oh—Steve gets it now—Genie is like a nickname. That doesn’t explain why it is still you (because he just knows it’s you) answering calls so frequently.

“Are they short-staffed or something? People out on leave?”

Sam shrugs. “I don’t know, Cap. She just tells me what I need to know.”

They head off on their mission.

Steve Rogers doesn’t have much of a social life. Ok, fine, he doesn’t have any social life, but he’s a curious sort of man. It bugs him to not understand what’s going on around him, and in theory, this isn’t a huge mystery. He pulls up the time logs for the on-call analysis team and glances over it.

Whether he expected a simple coincidence or a mostly-female staff now that could sound similar, Steve’s not sure, but what he finds infuriates him by proxy. He stops himself from looking up the personnel file for your employee number though. He’s not so mad as to break that protocol.

For another week or so, he fights the urge to hang up on you and call again since he knows there are likely at least three other people available. It probably wouldn’t make his point clear because Steve doesn’t know what his point is yet. Instead, he grits his teeth and does his work, oblivious to his annoyance growing.

Until Christmas Eve when he walks by the lobby coffee bar just as he’s dialing your team’s hotline.

He doesn’t notice at first but the woman next in a long line to order scurries out to hold the phone to her ear, pinning it to her shoulder and opening her laptop right there as she stands. He hears your response echo in both his ears and looks up.

“You gotta be shitting me,” he huffs, stomping over.

It’s only when he snatches your phone away that you realize he’s there. “Oh, gosh, sir—I mean, hello, Captain.”

“What are you doing?!”

He’s downright terrifying when angry, and his fury coupled with your alarm makes you shrink in your own skin.

“I—I just—“

“What is this? Day nine? In a row?!” His voice cracks slightly as he barks out questions he already knows the answer to. He sees people staring around you, so he points down the far hall. “Conference room, now.”

He keeps your phone in hand and ignores it ringing three times before you even make it to the giant table. You look tired. He complains it’s unhealthy but when you try to say something he cuts you off and asks when you last ate. That’s simple, right? You have to feed yourself.

“I was in line, sir. That’s what I was doing.”

“Then you shouldn’t have answered the phone. Sit there, no, right there.” He points and presses one finger against the wood for emphasis. “You don’t move. You don’t leave this room. I’m taking this—“ he pockets your phone “—and you sit there.”

As he’s about to let the door close behind him, he turns. “And if you so much as touch that laptop…”

It’s explicitly clear that you are still terrified, but you nod.

He comes back with food from their private lounge, a variety since he doesn’t know if you have restrictions or allergies. There’s water and coffee already in the room. He sits and eats something with you, staring until you munch on a few things.

When he’s satisfied, he stands and hands back your silenced phone. “I don’t want to catch you overworking like this again, you hear?”

Your very wide eyes blink twice.

He takes that as yes, wraps his knuckles on the table, and goes back to his own work.

Steve gets exactly what he wants. You log long—but no extra—shifts all the way through to New Year. He never hears your voice when he’s not supposed to.

Except…he celebrated the clock striking midnight with Wilson, Torres, and some other employees on the roof, and after the crowd dissipated, Steve couldn’t get to sleep. He walks (wanders) the halls when this happens. The building is empty.

Of course, the building is not empty, so Steve smacks the glass door open in frustration.

“Nobody works in this lab for third shift.”

You’re startled, ripping your headset off and half-rising from a rolling chair. “This is my shift, and…I’m not nobody.”

“Agreed,” he spits before realizing how that sounds. “Gah—“ he runs his hand through his hair, pulling harder than necessary “—this is insufferable.”

“Agreed,” you mumble, sitting back down with a questioning gaze.

Thinking of nothing else to say, Steve then bursts, “have you at least eaten?”

“Uh…it’s two in the morning. It’s not a meal time.” You flinch at his powerful huff. “Have you? Do you need to eat, Captain Rogers?”

You point him toward a tiny table.

Of course, the phone rings, but he stares you down. “Are there other people working remotely?”

“Yeah but—“

“But what,” he says in a very specific way to indicate there is no correct response except—

“Nothing. I am actually supposed to work though.”

“Seventy-plus hours this week and you still think it’s required?” Steve kicks himself internally. He just showed his hand.

“No…?”

“Just stop—“ He doesn’t get to finish.

His phone rings, and he suddenly can’t say squat. Steve simply answers it, wearing the most sternly disappointed face he can muster, and leaves.

He gets bold. Something about the anger boiling up inside him at the whole situation makes him far more aggressive at trying to change your habits, more so now that he’s seen your face. You’re not a 2-D sound anymore. You’re real, and you really work too much.

He keeps a closer track of the time logs and sees you’ve, in fact, reduced your hours. Then he hears Torres say something about ‘you rock, Genie’ on the phone…nine hours after he spoke to you that morning. So he checks and you’re not on-call. That’s when he realizes you’ve been working after and before clocking in so it looks like you have no overtime.

That’s nonsensical to Steve. He’s livid.

He picks out one of the burner phones constantly available to his Team and does something he’s not super proud of but feels justified in: he looks up your address in your file. It ends up not being a huge deal because you live in an apartment complex almost entirely rented out by compound employees. Still. Steve folds in his own self-condemnation with his fury at your deceit.

And you lied. You lied to him.

He drives over and stands by the door, flips open the phone, and calls the hotline.

“Ready,” a female voice chirps. It’s customary. No chit-chat just immediately prepared to listen to and research the caller’s question, but he can’t be sure it’s you from one word. Then Steve realizes he can’t say anything because he’ll give away that he also knows you have screened his calls from his normal number during times you are supposed to be off.

“Unclear. Weak audio connection. Boosting in three, two—“

Steve pounds on your door because goddamnit, stop working, woman. There’s a very sharp squeak from the phone (and through the entry) before the line cuts out. His heart rate and breathing spike in anger when he hears a muffled, “what do you want?”

It’s sad, not quizzical or alarmed. You’ve looked through the peephole at him.

“Open the door,” Steve says in his Captain voice, and you do, right away, unable to not comply. He wiggles the phone. “I know for a fact three other people are on-call. Explain yourself.”

You’ve also straightened in anger, but the posture is defensive and fragile. “It’s not like my work suffers, and I can keep going—“

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should,” he barks back, stepping over the threshold and blocking the entire doorway. “And you suffer even if the work doesn’t.”

You have no rebuttal for a long moment, frowning at his intrusion until you try again.

“Well, you…you’ve been up since at least five—“

“I have a physical advantage to handle more than you on less sleep.”

Your face sours further. “And that makes you better than me?!”

He’s defeated by that, having first scared the daylights out of you by yelling in the atrium, then interrupting you at the lab, and now showing up at your home to yell some more. Steve isn’t at all sure what’s gotten into him.

His shoulders sink. He finally takes a second to look around.

“You’re done. You are off work for the night. Do not pick up that phone.” He snatches it away again. “Just do something else.”

Without moving your feet, your whole body swivels to look around your apartment. You fill the silence with a short sniffle before confessing, “I…I don’t have anything else to do.”

Neither does he. Steve has not a single clue what he’d do if he were told the exact same thing.

“It won’t fit,” you gasp in frustration.

Steve sighs. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.” He continues to watch you struggle, leaning forward just enough so his breath fans over your face. “Go on. You can do it. It’s meant to be.”

“Shut up,” you whimper before dropping the slippery piece in defeat.

“You know in real life—“ he clucks his tongue “—they make cars big enough for your brood there.”

“Steve, this is the game of LIFE. I don’t know that anyone is supposed to end up with five children and a spouse. I’ll just have to strap him to the top of the van.”

As you delicately lay the little man to the side, Steve frowns.

“That’s no way to treat your beloved second son!”

“Who said it was my son I kicked outta the car?”

He barely stifles a laugh and goes to spin for his turn, but not Steve’s turn.

In order to make the game last longer, and because you both have somewhat alter egos, you are playing with Steve, Captain America, Genie, and yourself.

Genie has apparently been super busy having five children. It’s ridiculous.

So Captain America scores one for his perfect little life: a mansion.

“Look at you, Mister Two-Kids-and-A-White-Picket-Fence,” you chide.

One boy and one girl, of course. It’s now the running joke of the game that everyone’s life is terrible compared to Cap’s, even Steve’s.

Steve has three sons, and he keeps grumbling that he wants a daughter. You have offered him one of yours. He feigned offense. He openly hopes to avoid ending up like Genie though.

“I guess I’m just very dedicated to servicing my customers,” you joke in your best phone voice.

Steve sputters and blushes, putting down his to-go container in favor of sipping more water.

He withheld your phone to order, too, and insisted on paying for the obscene amount of food (because he eats like a horse, it seems). In addition, you are required to have half a glass of water every time your phone goes off. Self-care, he says. Hydration is good.

His phone has vibrated a few times as well, and because he’s him, Steve always answers to make absolutely sure it’s not urgent. He talks in his Captain voice, which gave you the idea to make him play the board game like that. He’s actually quite funny trying to get it together and ‘act the part’ while he spins a tiny rainbow dial that he’s already broken twice.

The air of irritation he arrived with has dissipated, and he smiles more. It makes you smile to see him relax. He’s more animated than you would have guessed. He holds himself very straight and still as Cap; Steve is a lot more approachable and a lot easier to make fun of.

He almost left in a completely flabbergasted huff when his original suggestion was for you to have a hot bath or something. Your quick “what are you gonna do? Watch me?” made Steve nearly crawl out of his skin in apology, but you decided to put him out of his misery and suggested eating instead.

“Right. Food,” he muttered under his breath, “that’s a good, basic life requirement…”

And that’s when you also had the idea for this game.

Best decision ever.

He’s never played, so you only made it through a few turns before the delivery arrived. Steve is practically a natural…a natural loser, that is, and it somehow makes him even more perfect. As Cap, he fights for justice, but he doesn’t fight over game rules or what’s fair about random cards and moving in an arbitrary pattern on the board. He doesn’t care if he wins, and oddly, you feel like the gleam in his eyes says “I’m winning by just being here.”

You feel the same. This is the most fun you’ve had in a long time, and it’s just a stupid foldout piece of cardboard. He’s just that magical.

So you both hide away in your own little bottle all night.

More jabs, more setbacks, more triumphant returns from behind later, and you barely care who wins. You chat absently between every spin. You have too much fun going wild with your alter ego’s stories. Then it’s past the three-hour mark of no-calls and quite late.

The food isn’t all gone, so you hop up to make Steve a doggy bag to take home. He shifts from relaxed to wildly awkward in the space of your walk back over.

“So,” he drawls, staring at your two phones on the coffee table, side by side and silent.

“So,” you mimic with a smirk, “I promise to not work until tomorrow, logged in or not. You have my word. Scouts’ honor.”

“I’d say I trust you—“ he bobs his head around, thinking “—but I don’t, so I might have to check up on you.”

“Oh dear,” you gasp. “A home visit? Expected or unexpected?”

He clearly feels bad about how he ended up here for the night, but Steve steps forward to take the wrapped offering of leftovers.

“Maybe expected. Next week? Same time?”

“Sure. I can survive on eating once a week.” It’s cheeky and a little forward of you, implying you might only eat with him and so he should see you that much more, but Steve beams.

He squints a little. “Or maybe sooner?”

“I’d like that. This…this was fun.” You step closer to gently kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Captai—Steve. Thanks.”

“Next time, I want a daughter,” he laughs, tilting to kiss your cheek, too, and then he jumps back and slaps his forehead. “No. Not like. I’m so sorry. That came out all wrong.”

You cackle while he still tries to correct himself.

“We can play the game. And in the game, it would be nice if—would you stop? I didn’t mean it like that.”

A few big breaths has you settling but just barely.

“I know, but hey, maybe next time you’ll be the one tied up?”

Steve swallows hard with huge eyes.

“To the top of the van, that is, because you would give up your seat for the children, right?”

Yeah, he would, he agrees and sees himself out, adding one more good night as he plucks his phone back, pushing it into his pocket next to the burner.

On his ride home, he already has the urge to check.

“Hey,” you answer immediately. “What’s up?”

“You aren’t supposed to pick up. You promised,” he snorts, smiling.

“But I knew it was you.”

He’ll be mad at that eventually. He should be mad at that. He could give another Captain speech about overworking and caring for yourself and yadda yadda, but not today.

No. Not today.

Today, you cared for each other, even though you didn’t know how, even though you didn’t want to, even though it was hard. Tomorrow, you can both care even more.

Immediately started bawling. Whoops.

Reminder to self: it isn't even the big things that make you feel cared for. Sometimes it's just a very simple joy.

[Main Masterlist]

[hassedah]

hi, could you write a headcanon where y/n has complicated homework and asks for help from the boys and girls, thanks in advance

The boys help MC with its homework:

Hi! How are you? I hope you are well! ^^

Here's the headcanons you asked! Here, I assumed that the MC was at high school. It's a parental relationship with the boys. You can assume that the MC is the biological child of one of the boys or that they simply adopted a child at some point.

I hope you enjoy it! ^^

Take care of yourself and have a nice day! ^^

Vladimir :

Vladimir had teachers hired by his parents for him and his brothers and sisters. When it wasn't one of his parents who took time out to give them lessons. So he would have preferred you to have lessons at home, rather than see you go off to see other people. After all, he's worried about you and he's never sure you'll be safe at school.

He often supervises your homework. It's not that he wants to be controlling, it's just his mother-hen side shining through. On more than one occasion, he's helped you with your homework, especially when it's maths - after all, Vladimir wouldn't hesitate to do maths for fun.

Tonight you were in a bind. You don't usually do your homework at the last minute. OK, sometimes you did, but that wasn't the case this time. You'd been working on this maths assignment for over five hours. What's more, it was a graded homework - it wouldn't have been much fun otherwise. Five hours of trying, re-trying, re-re-trying to find the solution to this problem, only to come up with a different result every time. You'd tried contacting your friends for help, but they'd all had different results too. In desperation, you stared at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling for several minutes, as if the answer might have fallen from a candle.

"MC? What are you doing up at this time of night, aren't you going to school tomorrow?

-Normally if…," you mumbled, turning your head slowly towards him.

-And why are you doing your homework at this hour?"

You looked at him silently for several seconds before sighing in the same dramatic tone Raphaël might have used.

"I'm desperate, I'll never make it. It's not a failure, it's a catastrophe. I don't have a choice now, I can't give this back tomorrow, so all I have to do is drown in the swamp or change my name and leave the country.

-For God's sake, don't talk like that, you sound like Raphaël. What can't you do in this homework? It can't be that bad.

-Everything Vava. All of it. I can't do it so well that I'm questioning my own first name. It turns out that my name isn't MC and I've been wrong all along, and maybe the rain isn't rain and the wind isn't wind… I'm not even sure that 2 and 2 make 4 any more… "

Vladimir rolled his eyes when he heard you speak before pulling up a chair to sit next to you.

"Come on, don't talk nonsense and show me that instead."

You handed him the sheet before letting your head fall dramatically back onto the table. Vladimir merely sighed before beginning to read out the instructions. There was a long moment of silence before he spoke.

"That's not this year's program.

-That's what the teacher gave us," you defend yourself immediately, "I'd like to spend my afternoons doing something other than staring at a maths paper. And… how do you know it's not on the syllabus?

-I've read the syllabus.

-Nobody reads the syllabus Vava...

-I just told you I did."

You looked at him again, one eyebrow raised in doubt, before shrugging. Yes, coming from Vladimir it was actually quite logical, of course he would read this year's syllabus.

"But… if it's not on this year's syllabus, I'll never make it! You're not going to leave me with this, are you? You've got to help me, Vava.

-I wouldn't have a problem with that…" replied the vampire.

A big smile appears on your face as you cling to his arm.

"Please help me! I'll never ask you for anything again. I'll be the quietest person in this mansion. I want to go to sleep so badly, I don't want to do maths ever again. Help me, Vava!

-I'll help you, it's OK, don't shout in my ears."

You let out a cry of joy and Vladimir winced in pain, yet he made no comment and simply started doing the calculations. He was fast, very fast, and in just a few minutes your maths exercise was finished and all you had to do was copy it onto a clean sheet of paper.

Béliath :

It was her sister who taught Beliath everything. There isn't really a school in the world of succubi, well… there is one, but only for succubi, incubi and half-demons don't have access to it. So Beliath was quite enthusiastic about the idea of enrolling you in a school. He's always the first to want gossip about your classmates and the only one who really cares.

He never helps you with your homework. It's not that he's not interested, but his level in many subjects is not excellent. For example, he has no knowledge of biology, physics or chemistry, and the only knowledge he has of history is that of the periods in which he lived, and even then he confuses a lot of things.

Tonight, you had gone to bed feeling light-headed and in good spirits at the thought of being able to enjoy your bed, its wonderful blankets and comfortable pillows. Until your conscience jolted you awake, and you scrambled for your school bag full of dread before realising that you hadn't done a maths exercise. It's not that you're not good at maths, or anything, but it's three o'clock in the morning, your mind is foggy with fatigue and you feel like you can't think straight. You look at the paper in despair, you'll never get it right, the instructions seem to be written in another language.

"MC! What are you doing up? It's three in the morning!"

You jumped and almost dropped the mobile phone you were using for light before turning to Beliath.

"You could knock before coming in!

-At three in the morning? When you're supposed to be asleep?

-Yes. And how did you know I wasn't asleep anyway?

-I saw the light under your door. I got worried.

-If someone wanted to murder me they wouldn't take the time to switch the light on first… or they'd be bloody stupid.

-I worried that you weren't feeling well, that you were ill.

-Mm. Yeah, that makes sense.

-So, what are you doing?"

You shook the sheet of paper in reply and Beliath closed the door to crouch on the floor beside you.

"What's this?" the incubus asked before turning the sheet of paper over and over, as if a secret might be lurking inside.

"My maths homework…

-And... why are you doing this homework so late?

-I forgot it! It happens to everyone! I had lots of important stuff to do and lots of other homework too. We're sweltering under homework at the moment, the teachers are trying to make us all burn out. I do so much homework that I even dream about it at night.

-You're exaggerating a bit...

-Please, Bel, help me!

-No. That's your problem. I've already got mine.

-Please, Vava will kill me! I'll be buried under her cyclamen before I can say "phew". I've already completely forgotten about last week's homework. You can't leave me like this."

Beliath sighed, but he sat down next to you again. They were hieroglyphics to him, literally, why were there letters in the middle of numbers and figures?

"Yes…. No… but. Have you seen my math level? Go and ask Vladimir.

-So you really want me dead, do you?" you ask, looking into his eyes with a serious expression.

Beliath looked at you for several seconds before rolling his eyes, no doubt you spent a lot of time with Raphaël to manage to be as dramatic as he was.

"Rah, it's OK. I'll help you… but don't expect it to be a success…"

You would have howled with joy, if you hadn't been afraid of alerting Vladimir. Beliath took your paper before starting work. He was rather slow, but little by little you managed to find the solution, even if it took you a long hour and by the end you felt as if you were constantly on the verge of falling asleep.

Ivan :

Ivan is one of the few members of the manor who actually went to public school. It's not an activity he enjoyed very much and often he would have preferred to be elsewhere. So he doesn't hesitate to cover for you when he knows you've skipped lessons. After all, he always feels sorry for you when you tell him that you still have a lesson with Mrs Delanay.

He sometimes helps you with your homework, quite often in fact. He wasn't particularly attentive in class and rarely did his homework, but that doesn't mean he didn't understand what was going on. He always got better marks in the arts, but art and music were fascinating courses, much more so than physics or chemistry…

You glanced angrily at the sheet of paper in front of you, and if it had been able to see your gaze, no doubt it would have run away to avoid your wrath… unfortunately, it was a sheet of paper, a sheet of paper with an art exercise on it. It wasn't that you weren't gifted in the subject, it was just that you had no inspiration for the subject "something scary" as your teacher had said, but well, you live with six vampires who organise blood-drinking parties in your own home, so your idea of what's scary isn't really the same as your classmates', so you're in danger of going off topic…

A desperate sigh escapes your lips as you let your head fall back against the table.

"Aren't you feeling well MC?"

You flinch as you hear Ivan's voice behind you, the vampire standing in the doorway to the living room, you shrug defeatedly.

"I've got writer's block... but for the painter... I'll never finish this project...

-Don't say that," Ivan consoles you, coming to sit next to me. What do you have to do? I was pretty good at drawing when I was at school, and Pierrick's a good teach.

You handed him the sheet of paper with the instructions on it with a sad look on your face and Ivan read it. Finally, he scratched his head before putting the sheet down again.

"Yeah, I can see the problem… your notion of scary is probably not the same as everyone else's.

-Right! What do I do now?

-We could ask Aaron…

-I have to do a drawing, an art painting, not give nightmares to the teacher and the rest of the class!

-That's true…" mumbled Ivan.

-I'm stuck… I've been at it for hours… I can't come up with any ideas, I'm struggling and yet I'm trying… What's more, thinking about it all the time makes my brain feel like it's slowing down."

Ivan nodded. He understood the problem pretty well. You were both silent for several seconds before he exclaimed.

"Oh, oh, I've got an idea!. Do the Twisted Man from Conjuring.

-The twisted man… Ivan, that's not scary…, you protest. Stopping Beliath's mother from killing us all, that was scary!

-Yes, it's not scary for you, but it could be for others. You could take inspiration from the Slenderman.

-Is the Slenderman scary?" you ask, full of doubt.

-He was very popular when I was at school, everyone told stories about him.

You sigh, it might be a good idea, if you change it enough.

-Anyway, it's not like I've got any other ideas. Let's just try this…"

You looked up reference images on your mobile phone with Ivan's help, and the vampire even went to the library for a moment to look for art books that might help you find inspiration. You stopped for a moment to look at a series of engravings depicting Dances Macabre from medieval times. Ivan made a few sketches with you to try and give you some ideas. At the end of the day, you finally had a drawing that you thought was good enough to give to your teacher.

Ivan :

Aaron never set foot in a school; his mother taught him everything. It was nice of course, but he didn't learn to read and write very well because of it and if his mother hadn't had to do the accounts for her dressmaking job, he probably wouldn't have learned to do maths. The idea of you going to a school was therefore very appealing to him. Like Vladimir, however, he was worried about your safety at school and insisted on visiting it himself. Did he frighten your teachers and classmates? Yes, a bit, but at least nobody bothers you.

He doesn't often help you with your homework. It's not that he doesn't want to, it's just that apart from a few history subjects, poetry and fauna and flora, he knows he doesn't have the necessary knowledge to be useful to you.

This evening you were working on a presentation given by your history teacher. "The Hundred Years' War". You were looking at the paper in front of you with some frustration. You still had a little time to finish the paper, but you wanted to get it perfect. It would, after all, be the last straw to live with vampires and fail your history presentation. You crossed your arms and groaned at your poster. This was the fourth time you'd done it and you still didn't like it. How could you talk about this war in just 10 minutes?

You sighed again, before pulling out a new poster to start all over again.

"MC? You seem annoyed tonight, is something wrong?"

You gasped as you heard Aaron's voice behind you, narrowly missing dropping your pen.

"Aaron! Don't come in like that! You'll give me a heart attack.

-Sorry," laughed the wolf, before walking over and looking at what you're working on. The Hundred Years' War… I fought in that…

-I know, you've already told me…, you turned slowly to your work before sighing again. I can't do it Aaron… I've been doing it over and over again for hours and it never satisfies me.

-You're too hard on yourself. Do you want me to help you?

-You'd help me," you exclaim, turning to Aaron.

-Of course, since I'm offering. Tell me exactly what you have to do."

Your eyes lit up at the news, Aaron is concise and to the point. You don't think you could find anyone better suited than him to help you sum up the Hundred Years' War in ten minutes or so. You explain your subject quickly and the wolf nods.

"Yes, I can see the problem, it's not easy to summarise such a war in such a short time. We'll see what we can do, don't worry. I'd start by giving a brief summary of the context, the main belligerents, then the stakes, maybe a brief aside on one of the battles, if you have time, and finally the consequences of the war.

-That would be about two minutes per subject…

-You don't have to talk about a battle if you think it's too short. The most important thing is the context, what's at stake and the consequences. For the belligerents, you can assume that the rest of your class already knows them."

You nodded before starting to look for an outline for your presentation. Aaron's advice was useful; even though he often underestimates his ability to speak eloquently, the turns of phrase he suggests have the advantage of being both beautiful and precise. Little by little, your presentation is refined, and after two hours of work it's almost entirely finished, and Aaron also seems satisfied. Once you've finished, you practise your presentation and you're right on time.

Raphaël :

He had teachers hired by his parents and learned to paint with his father. He wasn't really an attentive student, at least not when it came to anything that didn't have to do with art. He skipped a lot of lessons to go out and play with his friends and more than once fell asleep during lessons. Like Vladimir, he would have preferred you to have lessons at home, where at least he's sure you're safe. Unlike Vladimir, he totally covers for you if you skip lessons, listen, he used to do the same thing, he's not going to criticise.

Sometimes he helps you with your homework. As long as it's not maths, physics or biology. He's very knowledgeable on most subjects, but he often talks too much. You can't ask him a question without him launching into long explanations that don't really relate to your question in the end.

Tonight, you were revising one last time for your music lesson the next day, or rather for your music exam. You knew the piece by heart, you'd played it many times without the slightest mistake, but last night you couldn't do it any more. You cursed the piano with an angry growl. Why was it so difficult? It was supposed to be simple, but your fingers were getting all tangled up and making a mess of the keys.

Not wanting to admit defeat, you tried again, your fingers glided over the piano keys with a certain degree of habit, but they slipped on the last few notes, and you let out a raging howl as you barely restrained yourself from hitting the poor piano.

"MC, MC, calm down. You're too stressed to play tonight…"

You turned towards Raphaël, who had just entered the large living room.

"My exam is tomorrow, I can't stop until it's perfect," you reply immediately. "I can't present something that's only passable.

-It won't be "just passable", you're playing very well MC. But you've been playing for hours, and anyone in your place would be exhausted. I'm sure that if you take a break to relax a bit and enjoy yourself, you'll be able to do it again.

-But I can't relax at the moment," you protest. I could do it perfectly yesterday!"

At the end of your sentence, you let your head fall back to stare at the ceiling. Raphaël moves a little closer to you as he continues to speak.

"I know how frustrating it can be when you don't get to play what you want to play and I can assure you that a bit of rest can work wonders. I'll make you some hot chocolate if you like and you can tell me what fun you've had this week. When you try again later I'm sure you'll be able to do it.

-I don't have much interesting to say," you mumble wearily.

-I'm sure you're right, there's always something funny going on at your school," Raphaël smiles at you before putting a hand on your shoulder. Didn't you do a play not long ago?

-Oh no, please don't talk about this any more!" you mumble, thinking with your hands on your face.

Raphaël laughs before answering, "I'm going to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate and get some cakes, so why don't you sit down at the table and wait for me.

Raphaël left and after a sigh you decided to get up and go and sit at the table in the living room. He brought you a cup of hot chocolate while you continued to stare at the piano, as well as the little biscuits he had promised you, which were indeed your favourites. You ate them, mumbling mainly about your music lessons, before slowly changing the subject as the discussion progressed. Raphaël asked you questions about what you were doing at school and about your friends. You relaxed little by little until you were smiling again.

When you sat down again to play the piano later that evening, you managed the piece without making a single mistake.

Ethan :

Along with Ivan, Ethan is the only one who went to a state school. He was a very good pupil, without really needing to work. He always had an ability to understand things easily and he took advantage of that a lot, mainly by being inattentive in class and acting like a clown in the classroom. He thought the idea of sending you to high school was a good one, after all, you'd be bored to death if all you had for company were a bunch of boring old vampires. Like Aaron, he's only worried about the problems you might encounter, as long as none of your classmates are bothering you he's not worried.

He doesn't help you with your homework in general, unless you're having trouble with a physics, chemistry or biology assignment, but he does this by complaining (in fact, he's happy to help you, but he still hates the idea of having to do homework, even when it's not his own).

This evening, you were trying to finish a chemistry assignment… trying, because you'd been at it all morning and you'd finally got to the last exercise. You'd almost finished, which was the most important thing, but your eyes were falling out from exhaustion and you couldn't understand anything about the last exercise. It wasn't for want of trying to understand, though. You read and reread and reread the instructions, but nothing made sense any more. It was as if the instructions for the exercise had suddenly been written in a language you didn't understand.

You sighed before letting your head fall back into your arms, the thought of working even just five minutes longer made you want to cry. Why had the teacher given you such a long and complicated exercise! None of the other teachers did that, she was always the only one to make you crumble over exercises, each more complicated than the last. A third sigh escaped your lips. You still had that damned exercise to do.

"You look desperate tonight, is something wrong?"

You gasped before turning to Ethan. He was standing in the doorway looking at you. You couldn't help but sigh again before pointing to all the papers scattered on the table around you.

"I've still got a chemistry exercise to do… and I can't take it any more…

-I can see that," Ethan replies before coming closer. "Come on, show me this exercise. You're going to make a hurricane sighing like that."

You handed him the sheet, too happy to get help to think of protesting. Ethan read the instructions before frowning.

"That's a lot of work for one person," Ethan points out.

-It's because of the teacher," you answer. It's always like that with her… She gives us more homework than all the other teachers in the school put together.

-Can't you tell her that she's giving you too much work?

-If it was as simple as that I wouldn't do it…" you sigh again before slumping back in the chair. I'm fed up… I'm so tired I want to cry… plus I don't understand anything she's asking. I'm going to go crazy if this keeps up…"

Ethan looks at you as you stare exhaustedly at your work on the table. Normally he'd run away, but you look so tired he can't bring himself to do it.

"MC? How long have you been working on all this?" asks the vampire, gesturing towards your homework.

-Since this morning… "

Ethan sighs before sitting down next to you.

"Come on, give it up. I'll do the last exercise for you."

You sit up suddenly, surprised by the announcement, and exclaim.

"What?! What? Really?

-Yes, I really do. I'm not saying this as a joke and I'm only doing it because you look exhausted.

-Thank you Ethan," you sigh in relief before letting your head fall back into your arms. I could never have finished it without you."

The vampire rolls his eyes but starts to do the exercise, while you, without even realising it, have fallen asleep slumped on the table.

Neil :

Neil has always enjoyed learning things. If he'd been liked by his father, he'd probably have had much better teachers, but he had to learn a lot on his own. He wasn't really keen on the idea of you going to a school… do you really want to be around stupid, useless humans on a regular basis? He could have paid teachers to give you lessons at home… But he gave in to your demands. But you can't go to just any school! You have to go to the best private school in the area. After all, you can't just go to anyone.

He'll help you with your homework as soon as you ask, listen, he wants you to become as good as he is and it won't work if he refuses to help you or explain what he knows. What's more, he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy teaching - it's really something he enjoys.

This evening you had an essay to do on the subject of 'Thaumaturgic kings', which was no easy task for you or your classmates. You'd been staring at the paper for half an hour without coming up with a plan for your dissertation. A quick search on the internet brought you across some university articles that were far too complicated for your level of understanding. You were at lycée, not university, and understanding all the nuances of these articles was just giving you a headache.

To top it all off, the teacher gave you some sources… in old French… so largely incomprehensible, just trying to decipher the writing made you feel like you were in an Indiana Jones film. You sighed in despair, you were never going to make it, that was a certainty and you couldn't afford to fail, it was out of the question.

"MC? You look sad tonight, is something wrong?"

You turned back to Neil, who was reading on the sofa, and sighed.

"I have to do an essay, but I can't understand the subject… let alone the sources… Why did people write so badly?

-Show me what your problem is. I might be able to help."

You handed Neil the exercise sheet as he came to join you at the table, and he sat down next to you to read it carefully.

"I see… "Thaumaturgic kings" refers to the healing powers granted to the king after his coronation. It's probably a rather complicated subject for someone your age…

-I don't know what to do, the teacher told us to do something simple, but I'm already struggling to understand what's going on and the sources are illegible!"

Neil bent down to pick up the sources you were pointing out before smiling.

"It's true that I've seen better writing… and there are a lot of abbreviations… didn't your teacher transcribe it for you in a more legible way?

-No. He left us with this!

-All right, then. I'll help you then. I'll start by reading the source for you, I think that'll be easier."

You nodded before bending over the text to try to follow. It was complicated, to say the least, and you interrupted Neil several times to try and understand certain abbreviations. Neil explained them to you patiently and little by little you even managed to decipher certain words.

"Wait, wait," you interrupted suddenly. Did you say Jean?

-Yes.

-But wait, Jean, it wasn't written like that before.

-Yes, it was. That's the problem with this kind of text - the spelling wasn't fixed.

-Not fixed, not fixed, there are limits after all, he could have decided on a way of writing it and stuck to it.

Neil laughs at your confusion before showing you another spelling a little further down the text.

"It's written in a different way here".

You sigh, a little disappointed by such unstable spelling, before continuing to listen to Neil.

You work on your essay together for a while longer, gradually understanding the subject better and better, and coming up with a plan for your essay no longer seems insurmountable. You quickly finish the work before going out for a walk in town with Neil.

Léandra :

She went to a sort of school for succubi when she was a child. It wasn't her favourite thing to do and most of the time she just skipped classes. Most things she learned from her mother or other older succubi. She was a bit put off by your idea of wanting to go to a school because… well it's not the most fun place in the world, but she gave in after all, if that's all it takes to please you.

She doesn't often help you with your homework. More often than not, she doesn't really understand it. Her knowledge of many human subjects is rather vague and she doesn't see the point in going into it any further. Occasionally, when she's in a good mood or the subject interests her, she'll come to you and try to help, although this is quite rare, but her help is always appreciated.

This evening you were working on an exercise that your art teacher had given you. You had to work on a painting about Julius Caesar, more precisely the painting : The Assassination of Julius Caesar by Karl Theodor Von Piloty. The painting was rather interesting, but you didn't really know how to talk about it. No matter how hard you looked for information about the painter, you couldn't find any. You sighed as you continued your search.

"Who's that guy?"

You jumped as Léandra appeared behind you, pointing at César on the painting.

An emperor," you reply.

-And… it's normal for him to be assassinated?

-Well, given that is Caesar… yes."

Léandra remains silent for a moment, shaking her head, seemingly deep in thought, then continues.

"It was the Roman emperor who had sex with Cleopatra? Was it?

-Yes, that's it," you answer.

The discussion ends and You continue to look through the books while Léandra stands around you without moving, finally you turning round once more to ask her.

"Do you want anything?

-What should you do with this painting?

-A presentation.

-Sounds boring… can't your teacher teach you to paint instead? That would probably be more fun.

-No… Are you going to stand over my shoulder for much longer? If you've got nothing better to do, you can help me, you know?"

You had proposed the idea without the slightest hope that Léandra would accept, and yet to your astonishment, she sat down at the table next to you before looking at you.

"What do you want me to do?

-Um… I need to gather some information about the painting and the painter to do my presentation… but it's a bit complicated, I can't find much…

-Okay, I'll help you. "

You continued to stare at Leandra as she suddenly started rummaging through the books for you. It was rather unusual, to be honest, and it took you several seconds to manage to concentrate again on the book you were reading before she interrupted you.

In the end, with Léandra's help you found a lot more information than if you'd searched on your own. It didn't take you long to write your talk and set up the power point for the presentation. And once you'd finished everything, Léandra invited you to go out with her into town so that you could finally have some fun.

Farah :

Farah learnt everything she needed to know from her older brother after they left the family. She learned to read and write from him, and he taught her all about flora and fauna and how to look after herself. So when you told her you wanted to go to a high school, she was all for it. But it was a bit complicated, the pack travels a lot and you couldn't travel with them while studying. So she rented you a small flat near the school and visits you every weekend to see how you're doing.

She will help you with your homework whenever she can, but can only do so at weekends. Farah is always happy to do this for you. She is, of course, much better at helping you with subjects such as flora and fauna or history. However, if she doesn't master something in particular, she can always find a member of the pack to help you.

This evening, you sat in your living room with your homework, waiting for Farah to arrive. You were working on an exercise about the beginnings of human agriculture. It wasn't as easy as you had initially hoped, and little by little your mind was getting muddled. You jumped when you heard the front door open and rushed to meet Farah, who was calling you.

"Farah!" you exclaimed with palpable joy. "I thought you'd get here later!

-We walked faster than I expected," smiled the werewolf. How was your week? Have you got a lot of homework today? I thought I'd take you shopping with the pack when you'd finished."

-I've been working for hours on an exercise on the beginnings of human agriculture.

-I see. Do you need any help?

You quickly looked over all the work you still had to do. Of course, you were capable of doing it on your own, but it had been so long since you'd spent time with the pack and Farah that the idea of spending the day on homework instead of having fun depressed you. You nodded.

"Yes, please!"

-All right, I'll help you then. The sooner it's done, the sooner we can go and enjoy ourselves."

Farah followed you into the living room, smiling, and you sat down around the table. As you worked, you told her what you had done during the week.

"Are you having a good time at high school at the moment?

-Yes, we are. We're preparing a play! We haven't decided which one we're going to do yet, but we can choose between : Sleeping Beauty, Little Red Riding Hood and Alice in Wonderland.

-Well, that sounds like fun, I hope you'll let me know when we can come and see it with the pack.

-Oh no, Farah, I'm going to get noticed if you all come."

The she-wolf laughed in amusement at your reaction, before resuming a few seconds later.

-You can ask Willie if you're nervous. He used to perform on stage when he was still human, so he knows how to deal with that sort of thing."

You nodded as you continued your homework, and with Farah's help it only took you an hour to finish it all. You left shortly afterwards to join the pack and go shopping together.

[meraki-yao]

1 💕

8 for Can I Have This Dance

2 Which scene was your favorite to write in I Need Comfort (But I Hate Being Comfortable)

Thank you for the ask dear!

1. Of the fics you’ve written, which is your favourite and why?

Honestly the fic I'm the proudest of is not an RWRB fic, it's a shadowhunters/malec song fic: Achilles Come Down

My best works and best creativities come from me projecting myself and putting my actual feelings into the fic. What happened with this fic is I had a really shitty day, went out for a run while listening to Achilles Come Down, thought of the fic and proceeded to dump all my feelings, spend the next entire day writing the fic, finishing it within 24 hours. Till this day I think it's the best thing I've ever written, ever.

But for RWRB, I'm gonna say I’d Hang the Moon for It to Shine on Him Sleeping. It's also partially me venting through both Henry and Catherine, but there's also this part where I wish we could see more or less what I wrote on screen, hopefully in the sequel. Writing in Catherine's pov was really fun. I'm really proud of that one.

2. Which scene was your favourite to write in I Need Comfort (But I Hate Being Comfortable)?

Oh, this was pure vent and very raw. I was going through a depressive episode those couple of days, so I kind of wrote down what I did for Henry and copied a couple of lines from my own diary for Henry's inner monologue. So my favourite scene to write was actually taking what's my own feelings and reframing it to fit Henry's narrative. So this part:

He’s kind of frustrated at himself. He’s in a much better place than he was in the past: he’s away from the palace, he’s writing his own book, he has a boyfriend who he loves and who loves him. It’s what he always wanted, he’s what he thought he would never get. The constant fear and despair of hiding his sexuality for his entire life, the thought of pretending to be straight and getting married to some noblewoman, the feeling that he doesn’t fit in the space, the dread that sticks to his skin and dyes his blood a dull shade of black like some toxic, viscous tar, that’s truly gone for good.

I'm kind of happy something so negative inside me can be translated into some sort of creative outlet.

8. Which scenes did you cut, and which were added in Can I Have This Dance?

I'm not sure if this counts as cutting because I didn't actually write it, but I considered putting the Paris scene for the first section instead of DNC night, but 1, I ended up deciding I wanted actual dancing, in the traditional sense of the word 2, I wasn't really ready to write smut at the time and felt like Paris was too heavy for me just to stuff it as a quarter of a fic. So I wrote DNC instead.

As for what scene was added, Alex and Henry dancing to their playlist was a later decision. I initially kind of just thought of them slow dancing in the kitchen or something, but then I remembered that playlist exist and added it in.